This is a sequel to my story 'For You, the War is Over', inspired by a comment on the Larry Hovis website about a spin off from the Hogan's Heroes show that never ended up being written.

1975, an undisclosed location in London, England.

One stubby finger was rubbing thoughtfully over his graying sideburns while the other hand tapped mindlessly on the desk. No one could have accused the elderly man of staring through his aide, but he conveyed the distinct impression that his attention was not on the sandy-haired young man standing so patiently in the doorway of the office.

"Excuse me, General?"

"Yes, Phillips, what is it?"

"Is something wrong, sir? You've been scowling at that portrait on the wall for nearly ten minutes."

"Have I? I have a headache, Phillips. A big nasty headache known as the Iron Curtain. Downing Street heard about the incident at the Belgian embassy and wants something else put in place immediately."

"Sir, weren't the French involved in that? Why not ask them for some assistance?"

"I'm not handing over a British mission and British agents for the French intelligence to mess around with! I've learned my lesson—keep a firm hand on the reins . . . unless the Americans decide to get involved."

"May I make a suggestion, sir?"

"Please do, and some tea while you're at it."

"Here's the tea, sir, Earl Grey as usual, and that suggestion I mentioned. I happen to be in touch with an old schoolmate, and it occurred to me that he may be the answer to the problem. I put his file somewhere on your desk yesterday."

"Hmm, oh yes . . . here it is. A schoolmate, you say?"

"Actually, he was up at school with my younger brothers and was in the same class as the twins. But he knows my entire family quite well."

"Seems an interesting sort of chap—Phillips! Is this—do you happen to know what his father does?"

"He's recently become president of the Spotswood Bank, General. Do you know him, sir . . . sir?"

"Phillips, are you old enough to recall the war?"

"I was born during the Blitz, if that counts for anything."

"Never mind then. During the war, I had the perfect solution to my present-day little problem. A team of men operating behind enemy lines that make today's agents seem like bumbling clods. It seemed as though they could do anything—although it was usually through the most unconventional means imaginable."

"A pity you can't use them again, sir."

"Quite so. You know . . . Phillips, I have an idea. I am writing a list of names that I want you to investigate thoroughly. Pull whatever strings are necessary to get me every possible scrap of information about these men. If this works it could be the greatest intelligence opportunity in thirty years. Here is the list, and remember that I need the information by yesterday!"

"Right away, sir."

"General, I've assembled the files that you requested last week. I must say, sir, that the US State Department has been most helpful in this matter. It wouldn't at all surprise me—"

"Thank you, Phillips. What have you learned?"

"Here's your tea, sir. I have a basic background for each of them if you'll review the files . . . your first choice was unfortunately killed in a helicopter crash a few years ago. The lieutenant was flying a chopper that malfunctioned weeks before he was due to be shipped to Vietnam from the US base in Germany. There were no survivors."

"Hmph. Any brothers, by any chance?"

"Yes sir, actually there is one older brother. I found quite a lot in the USAAF files. Currently holding the rank of captain, graduated from West Point but is serving in a different department to his father—"

"Who I see made the rank of Lieutenant General. I always said he'd make general or be shot."

"Quite, sir. The captain is unmarried, votes Republican, trained as a pilot and is qualified in a rather surprising number of different aircraft, holds security clearance equal to our level seven, and has a reputation for somewhat outrageous military maneuvers. When I made the initial inquiry, the sergeant I spoke with seemed to assume that I was investigating on behalf of a young lady, however I was given to understand that the captain is not currently involved with any particular young lady."

"Chip off the old block."

"Beg pardon, General, I didn't quite catch that?"

"Never mind, Phillips. You weren't born until the Blitz."

"If you say so, sir. The next file is that of the engineering and sound specialist. The State Department was most reluctant to provide any information on this gentleman, as it seems that they have employed his services in the past and do not wish to be hindered should they desire to do so again."

"Never mind the State Department!"

"Yes sir. He graduated from high school with a degree in engineering and went directly into the employ of an electrical company, of which he is a valued and dependable employee. On three occasions he has contracted to the State Department to supply and install private listening devices in certain buildings. He is not married and his hobby is fishing, rigorously every other weekend except in cases of severe personal illness or a death in the family."

"You are a fount of wisdom, Phillips."

"Thank you, sir. If I may venture a comment, I think it highly unlikely that the gentleman in question would blend in with the local population . . . should he ever be called upon to perform a mission on European or Soviet soil."

"That's my problem, Phillips. What about the other chaps?"

"The last of the three Americans is working in the pyrotechnics factory which was recently sold by his father to move onto a wheat farm—"

"I believe I understood the general gist of that sentence, but I warn you that you may need to repeat it later."

"In that case, would you care for another lump of sugar in your tea? As I was saying, the American is located in South Dakota. He is said to enjoy a gift for language and is involved in tutoring European immigrants, however is known to lack personal ambition and has refused promotion on at least one occasion."

"Interesting. I wonder what makes the chap tick."

"To move on to our French connection, General, I have here a list of the restaurants owned by the family. Although based in Paris, where the, ahem, potential agent is currently managing the original business, they have branches in five other cities around France. He has an informal but extremely wide circle of contacts and acquaintance around Europe on both sides of the Curtain, and is an expert marksman."

"Now we come to your childhood's playmate, I take it. Excellent tea, by the way."

"Thank you, sir. Charlie is approximately one hundred and seventy-seven centimeters tall. He has dark hair and weighs somewhere in the vicinity of seventy-seven kilograms—"

"Phillips! And wipe that smile off your face!"

"Sorry, General. Charlie has taken over the job of security for the Spotswood Bank, which is the role his father vacated to take over the presidency. He has never been in trouble with the law as a result of his activities, but he is a skilled safecracker and has occasionally been called on to test the security of art museums by breaking into them—strictly by invitation only. For three weeks last year he was involved romantically with my youngest sister Alice, but the relationship came to a mutually friendly end and he remains a close friend of our family."

"Thank you, Phillips, you've done an excellent job. I do want to make something clear from the outset, though."

"What is that, sir?"

"If this works out as I hope it does, you will definitely share the credit. If it turns into a disaster, I am fully prepared to take all the blame onto my own shoulders. I'm due for retirement anyway. Would you care to have the rest of the afternoon off while I go over these files? We'll begin proceedings first thing in the morning."

"Thank you, sir. Good afternoon, General Wembley."