Karl Langenscheidt had long ago given up trying to understand what went on at Stalag 13 - it simply wasn't worth the trouble. Instead, he just went along, day by day, trying to just keep out of it.
Whatever "it" was.
Everyone knew that the American colonel ran the camp in everything but name. Karl didn't mind; Hogan was a far better administrator than Klink, and conditions here, while hardly paradise, were hardly comparable to more eastern stations. So, as long as things kept to the status quo, Karl was fairly happy.
It just got a bit weird sometimes.