Summary: A bitter winter is fostering bitter arguments among the heroes, but is it enough to make two of them desert?
A/N: Here goes. This is my first Hogan's Heroes fic. Constructive criticism is much appreciated. Please review. Forgive the brief attempts at French. And, of course, I've started this just as I'm about to get very busy, so it might take a while before I update.
Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish.
Chapter 1:
"I don't bloody well care," Newkirk yelled. "You can 'ave one of mine if you need it that badly."
"It is not funny, Pierre," LeBeau said. "Give me back my scarf. Maman bought that for me!"
"For the last time, Louis, I don't 'ave your scarf!"
Hogan rubbed his forehead standing in the doorway from his quarters. Would Klink really notice if he turned around and sat the day out?
"Alright men, enough of that. What's going on?" Hogan finally asked, as LeBeau continued to stand at the base of Newkirk's cot yelling up at the Englishman.
"He has stolen my scarf again, mon colonel!"
"Oh, for the love a…I didn't steal it, Colonel. What would I want with 'is bleedin' scarf?"
"You did too steal it!" LeBeau said, and then turned to Hogan. "He is mad because I stepped on his foot in the dark on the mission last night. It is absurd! It was an accident."
"Oh, like that coffee you spilled on my shirt Wednesday was an 'accident?'"
"You deserved that! You should never have told Wilson that I..."
"Boys, boys, settle down," Hogan pulled LeBeau away from the bunk.
"They've been at each other all week," Kinch groaned from where he was trying to read at the table.
"Listen guys, I know it's freezing and the sawdust for dinner has been particularly unappetizing lately and London is working us to the bone," Hogan grimaced, thinking about how true all of that was. "But let's try not to make it any worse for each other, OK?
"Fine, you are right, Colonel," LeBeau sighed dramatically. "Now, just give me the scarf Pierre."
"I 'aven't got your scarf."
"Why you…" and the bickering started all over. LeBeau's French accent and Newkirk's Cockney slang got so prevalent in their anger that Hogan was pretty sure that neither of them could even tell what the other was saying anymore. To make it worse, they both had colds and kept sneezing every few words.
"Roll call! Schnell!" Shultz suddenly shouted outside.
Hogan sighed. At least roll call would be 10 minutes where Newkirk and LeBeau couldn't bicker. Hogan kind of was looking forward to it, even if it was horribly cold.
Hogan had been wrong.
LeBeau and Newkirk were poking each other like three year olds and whispering at each other all through roll call. Maybe Hogan could try asking London again if there was any way they could all get a few days off to catch up on sleep. His men were getting agitated, and it wasn't just LeBeau and Newkirk. But if even their dear French-British duo was at war, things were getting bad.
When they finally were dismissed, LeBeau turned to Newkirk and thrust his finger into the Englishman's chest.
"I want it back now."
"Watch where you're pointing that," Newkirk swatted the hand away with a growl.
"Gee guys. Maybe Newkirk really doesn't have it. How about we all..," Carter tried to break them apart.
LeBeau gave Newkirk a shove.
Newkirk pushed back.
LeBeau threw a punch.
"Oww!" Carter was cradling his arm, where it had unintentionally intercepted the punch. He'd been trying to step between his friends.
"Oh, Carter, I'm so sorry! Let me see," LeBeau cried in shock.
"Now 'e's sorry," Newkirk huffed. "Here, let me see it, Carter."
"I am already looking after it," LeBeau said.
"Right, 'cause you can 'elp."
"Of course! And if I had my scarf, I would use it to make a sling," LeBeau said as the two turned away from Carter to face each other.
"Again with the ruddy scarf!"
"Just admit you took it!"
"Stop it!" Carter yelled before storming back into the barracks.
"That's enough out of you two. Newkirk, latrine duty. LeBeau, clean out the dog pen," Hogan said. When they looked ready to argue, he bellowed, "Now!"
Yes, nerves were definitely frayed. Even he was yelling now.
Newkirk waited around a moment until LeBeau was out of earshot.
"Sorry, Gov. Can you tell Carter we're sorry, too?" Newkirk asked.
"You guys need to stop this, Peter. Just give him back his scarf."
"I thought you knew me better than that. I wouldn't steal from one of me own mates. What do you all think I am? Some street thief? I'll admit I have sticky fingers, but I thought we were clear that I'd put 'em to good use in the Queen's service."
"Just give him back the scarf Newkirk. I know you were mad and I don't hold it against you," Hogan glanced at the corporal sharply. Newkirk looked a little hurt and didn't say anything for a long while as he walked alongside the colonel.
"Well, you'd better hope you find the scarf before I do. I'm likely to rip it to pieces if I see it."
"I know LeBeau and Newkirk were supposed to escort our defectors to the train station, but I'm guessing that's not such a good idea," Hogan shot them each a look of reprove. "So, Carter, I need you to go with Newkirk."
"Brilliant!" Newkirk cheered.
"Sure, colonel," Carter said, blatantly ignoring Newkirk. He was still upset that his friends had gotten so into their petty argument that they'd just ignored him. His arm really hurt, too!
"OK, let's go over the plan one more time," Hogan said. "Kinch radioed Spring Dipper and told him to bring Dr. Lander and his brother to the rendezvous point. Newkirk and Carter, you'll pick them up there and take them to the train station. You buy them two tickets for the 9 p.m. train to Switzerland and make sure they get the forged papers. Once our dear scientists are on their merry way, you too hurry back here.
"Meanwhile, LeBeau and I will set fire to their rooms so that it looks like that experimental compound of theirs reacted and they died in a chemical explosion. I know you were looking forward to the explosion Carter, but this is just how we're going to have to do this. Everyone got it?"
There was a mumbling of "Yes Sirs," as they changed into their disguises. LeBeau and Hogan were in their blacks and Carter and Newkirk put on civilian outfits.
As they all walked down the tunnel, Newkirk and LeBeau started arguing again.
"You know, it would be nice if you got on the train yourself. London would probably give you a medal for helping the war effort by leaving the rest of us alone," LeBeau said smugly.
"Well, maybe I will," Newkirk replied.
"You two keep this up, and maybe I will," Carter said as he passed them and started up the ladder.
"That's quite the fireworks display," Hogan whistled, as he looked over his shoulder back at the building they'd just set aflame. The fire station alarms were already ringing as they made their way back toward camp.
Hogan knew he needed to talk to LeBeau before they got back to the tree stump. Once they were far enough from town, he gently grabbed the Frenchman's shoulder and pulled him to a stop.
"Louis, I know it's been an awful month, but you and Peter need to end this war of yours. Morale is bad enough as it is. It doesn't help when you're so mad you keep burning the stew, and the men can't even bring themselves to play cards anymore after losing most of their money with Newkirk on the warpath. Your friendly banter has been one of the bright spots in this camp since long before I even showed up here. I once heard Corporal Rivers refer to it as the next best thing to a night at the movies. But lately the only show you guys have been putting on is a particularly bad soap opera."
"I know, colonel," LeBeau said quiety after a moment. "We will fix it."
"Good."
"Can you make him give me my scarf back?"
Hogan laughed.
"LeBeau, if we can't find the scarf, I'll take up knitting just for you."
"Colonel. Colonel Hogan, wake up."
Someone was shaking his shoulder, and Hogan was not pleased. It had to be hours before role call.
"Colonel," the voice whispered again, and he identified it as Kinch.
"Whah isss it?" Hogan asked sleepily, trying to sit up.
"Carter and Newkirk still aren't back yet sir."
"What time is it?"
"About 3 a.m. Sir. The train should have left six hours ago, and it only takes an hour to get back from the station, even on foot."
"Damn."
Hogan got out of bed and headed for the tunnels.
They had been sitting in the radio room for a while and Hogan was just debating a search party, when the radio picked up a signal.
"It's Spring Dipper, Sir," Kinch relayed and then paused. "He says that the Landers never got on the train."
"What about our boys?"
"He says Carter and Newkirk took them to the station, but then they disappeared."
Kinch looked to Hogan, wondering how to reply.
"Tell them him we'll come get the Landers and keep them in the tunnels until we figure out what's going on."
LeBeau seemed to have forgotten his fight with the Englishman and was fretting about Newkirk and Carter. He and Hogan met Spring Dipper and the Landers just off the side of the road.
"What happened?" Hogan asked.
"Your men left us! They got on the train with our tickets! You said you would help us! What if my brother and I had been caught?" one of the brothers yelled, although it was a timid yell. Both men seemed very shaken.
"They showed up on my doorstep half an hour ago," Spring Dipper explained. "They said they didn't come back right away because they weren't sure they could trust us after your men left."
"Hold on," Hogan started. "At what point did the men I sent leave? And how do we know you didn't just turn them over to the Gestapo? Talk quickly because I don't want to hang around in case you've got reinforcements coming for us next."
"How dare you! We were promised escape. They will kill us when they find us. We have nothing," the man was growing hysterical. He was either a good actor, or more likely, he was serious.
"OK, fine, I don't know what happened, but we'll hear the rest of this story when we get you somewhere safe. Are you sure you have no idea what might have happened to our men?"
"They are on our train!"
"Pier..They would do no such thing!" LeBeau was fuming and just barely stopped himself before accidently saying his friends' real names.
"Not now. Let's move," Hogan said, thoroughly sick of arguments.
Carter and Newkirk had never shown up. After the first 48 hours they'd finally run out of excuses for Klink. They hoped maybe Klink's escapee search would turn up something they hadn't.
LeBeau was absolutely miserable. Well, they all were.
Meals tasted all the worse without Carter there to make faces as he tried to swallow down the mess hall food. And where was the fun in blowing up a big bridge without Carter around? A little innocence went a long way to brighten up what could be a rather gruesome line of work.
And Newkirk, well, for all his faults, seemed to be have been good buddies with half the camp, Hogan included.
The CO had never realized how much time he spent just casually chatting with the RAF soldier. They had completely different backgrounds, but they got along in an odd way.
The clever corporal seemed to understand him better than anyone else in camp and his easygoing attitude made him easy to talk to when the colonel needed to vent a little. Not that he vented much, but even an officer reached his limit every now and then.
To make it all worse, the Landers' story checked out.
Newkirk and Carter appeared to have taken the scientists to the train station. They bought the tickets, as confirmed by the pretty cashier who remembered the two men with funny accents. The one was shamelessly flirting and the other seemed oblivious and wanted to get going.
Newkirk and Carter returned to the scientists on the chilly train platform but said they ought to hold onto the papers and tickets to keep them safe until the train was ready to leave. Carter saw some hot cider go by in another traveler's hand and tugged on Newkirk's arm, asking if he had any money. Newkirk told the men to wait out of sight near the end of the platform.
The coffee shop owner remembered the pair, too. At least, he remembered the grown man who clapped his hands with glee and asked if he could get marshmallows as his friend ordered one non-alcoholic apple cider and one tea. The friend tried to explain that marshmallows were for hot chocolate not cider, and they got into a rather amusing and cheerful debate.
But the Lander brothers swore they saw Carter get on the train, and someone with the Landers' tickets had indeed boarded the train.
That was where the trail ended.
As it began to look like they had really deserted, the feeling of missing their friends quickly became disbelief and anger. Kinch was furious and Hogan was disgusted.
LeBeau alone was a bit sympathetic. He was convinced that it was his fault, that he'd caused them to snap, and in a moment of folly they'd gotten on the train to spite him.
Hogan replied to that with two four letter words that Carter would have translated as "hogwash."
It was now five days later. Hogan sat down on the bench outside the barracks with an angry thump.
Sure, it had been a rough couple of weeks, but desertion? His mind just didn't buy it, but he knew it had to be true. Just wait until this got out around the camp. He harrumphed and scanned the compound.
Suddenly, he noticed something in the dirt beside the wash basin. He stood and walked over to pick up whatever had fallen out of the basin.
Hogan blinked. It was LeBeau's scarf.
Next chapter title: Would you believe it?
The stalag is just beginning to adjust to live without two of the heroes, but things are never that simple, are they?