(In the season 6 episode The Big Record the prisoners are told they can all record a message to send home to their families. But during the episode, the boys become preoccupied with finding out why the SS has taken control of their rec room and never actually record the messages. This is a missing scene fic that might have happened once the scheme ended and the boys decided to take Klink up on the offer.)

Colonel Robert Hogan heaved a deep sigh as he sat down at his desk and picked up the microphone. He closed his eyes and thought of home. It was so far away and it had been so long. But he willed himself to focus on picturing his parents there on the front porch. Then he took a deep breath and turned on the machine.

"Hi mom…hi pop, this is Rob," a strained chuckle escaped from the senior POW officer's lips. How strange that he was saying these words out loud in the middle of a POW camp in Germany. "It's been a long time," he said with a shake of his head, " it's been a long war."

"Anyway," he started again, trying hard to shake off his morose mood, "Our illustrious Kommandant has graciously allowed us prisoners to record a few words to send home to our families. So I'm hoping that this eventually finds its way home to you. I wish I could be there in person, but..." He paused searching for the right words, " well, I guess the war's not finished with me yet."

Hogan ran a hand through his hair and heaved another deep breath before going on, "I don't want any of you to worry about me. I'm safe and sound here at Stalag 13. I have a nice homey little office with a window, a French chef who makes sure I eat well, and the men under my command...," Hogan looked at the closed door that led out to the common room that housed his core group, "they're more than that...they're my friends. They take care of me and I do my best to return the favor."

Hogan fiddled with the cord of the microphone as he thought about all the things he wished he could say to his family...and all the things that had to remain unsaid. It was so hard to write to them, much less do this, when he could only speak about mundane, ordinary things that had nothing to do with his life at Stalag 13. He looked down at the last letter he'd received from his mother, neatly folded on top of a pile of papers on his desk. It had been cut to pieces by the Germans. But even with gaping holes, his mother's voice had still come through, calm, reassuring, worried, but steadfast.

Hogan cleared his throat and went on, " I've been trying to write every few weeks. I hope some of the letters have been getting to you. Mail is pretty sparse here. The last letter I got was from you mom and you were telling me about the summer in Cleveland. It's winter now, and there's snow on the ground, so it warmed us all up a bit to hear your stories."

It was time to wrap up, he knew. The record would be running out soon, and there was so much still left unsaid. " I hope everyone there is healthy and happy. I want you to know that I miss you all."

A knock suddenly sounded and the door opened, " mon colonel," LeBeau started before noticing the mic, "Oh, pardon sir."

"It's ok LeBeau. What is it?"

"Roll call, colonel."

"Ok, be right there."

The door shut as Hogan turned to say his goodbyes, "Sorry mom & pop, duty calls. I love you both. Give my love to everyone else and remember, don't worry about me, please...I'm fine...Oh, and mom, just in case, you may want to start knitting a pair of very large socks...I sort of promised Schultz."

"Roll call!" Schultz's cry echoed in the background.

"Well that's goodbye for now. I hope to be home with you all soon."

And he flipped off the switch that had so briefly linked him with his loved ones. The colonel shook his head as he grabbed his hat. What had he actually said to them? Not much of anything really...no substance, no details, just a few placating and encouraging words...lies really. He hadn't done much better than that nonsense on the list that Klink had given them.

"Raus every body. Raus, raus, raus."

2 months later in Cleveland, Ohio

"Oh my God Bob, that's him! It's Rob," June Hogan exclaimed as the record began to play. Her hand coming up to cover her mouth as he continued to speak.

"He sounds so tired," she nearly sobbed as she heard her son take a deep, ragged breath before trying to reassure his family there was no need to worry.

"War weary...he sounds war weary," Bob Hogan covered his face with his hands as he imagined his bright, boisterous boy who had always been full of good humor, locked away in a prison camp in the middle of Nazi Germany. It was enough to turn a man's stomach.

But when he talked about his men...was that pride he heard in his son's voice?

"Well at least he's got some good friends," June said softly as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Bob listened hard to the voice of his only son as he said his goodbyes and the record finished playing. Wrapping his arms around his wife and pulling her close he tried to muster all the positivity he could find in himself after hearing his son's voice coming from inside a POW camp.

"He'll be alright June, just like he says. Rob's a strong man. If he has anything to say about it he and everyone under his command will make it home to their loved ones when this blasted war is finally finished."

His wife nodded even as she continued to cry.

"Just pray it ends soon, June," he said as he soothed his tearful wife, " just pray it ends soon."