A/N: This in my first attempt at a story which deals with the touchy subject of male rape and it's effect on one of our Heroes and those he works with. I will try to be realistic yet keep the story believable. For those of you who read it, I hope you enjoy. And for those who don't, or it's not your thing, I understand. I also want to thank Bits and Pieces for her assistance in reviewing these chapters and helping me stay on track with this story.

Warning: This first chapter contains a scene that is not too explicit.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Hogan's Heroes nor its characters. But I do own the DVD collection and enjoy watching them.

The Assault

Chapter 1

"That should do the job," Colonel Robert Hogan said as he finished planting the last of the explosives along the bottom of the bridge he, Kinch and Newkirk were to blow up tonight. He then got to his feet and motioned for the others to follow him back to camp. They had only gotten a few feet when they heard it.

"Halt!" shouted a voice. Hogan's blood froze. The voice belonged to a German. He glanced at the others.

"Split up and run!" he ordered. The three men raced away and split up a few minutes later, bullets whizzing past their heads. They returned fire in the direction of the sound of voices, footsteps and gunfire.

As Hogan ran, he suddenly yelped as a burning sensation struck his leg causing him to lose his balance and fall sprawling on the ground, his weapon flying from his hand. As he started to get to his feet, he froze at hearing the cocking of a rifle and felt it pressing against the base of his skull.

"Don't move or I will blow your brains out, swine!" the guard with the rifle pressed against his head ordered.

"Wouldn't think of it," Hogan replied, not moving. He suddenly heard three more rifles being cocked and felt them being aimed at him. One of the guards put a boot on the small of his back. Hogan's only thought was hoping that Newkirk and Kinch made it back to camp.

"Well, well, look what we have here, Fritz," one of the others said, his speech slightly slurred. Reaching down, he grabbed a fist full of Hogan's thick black hair and jerked his head backward so he could look into his eyes. "Looks like we have ourselves either a spy or a saboteur. I wonder which he is?"

The guard holding the rifle against Hogan's head looked at Fritz. "Henrik, we don't have any handcuffs. We turned them in at headquarters before leaving for the day."

"Doesn't matter," said Henrik with a grin. "We can use his belt to tie his arms behind him. See to it will you, Fritz."

Fritz knelt down beside Hogan and reaching under him, managed to unbuckle his belt and pull it off. He then roughly jerked Hogan's arms behind him, overlapped his wrists and proceeded to wrap his belt around them before looping the belt tightly through the buckle. Hogan winced as the leather began cutting into his flesh from being so tight. Then Fritz roughly seized Hogan by one arm and jerked him to his feet. He spun him around so he could look Hogan in the face. He noticed the black grease smeared on the Colonel's face. He smirked. "We have a pretty face here, Henrik. A very pretty face." Seizing a fist full of Hogan's windbreaker and turtleneck under it, he pulled him close. The Colonel smelled the beer on his breath and knew at least two of the guards had been drinking; he wasn't certain about the other two. "What do we do with this pretty face boy?" he said looking at Henrik and the others.

"You could let me go," Hogan suggested sweetly. "I was only out for an evening stroll anyway."

Henrik chuckled. "We have a funny man here. Shall we show him what we do with funny men?" Then, without warning, he jammed his rifle butt into Hogan's abdomen causing the Colonel to bend over in pain having the breath knocked out of him. He then felt a fist connect with his jaw sending his sprawling across a fallen tree lying nearby landing on his stomach. One of the guards again rested a boot on the Colonel's back, pinning him where he fell.

"Henrik, that isn't what we do with comedians," Fritz said still slurring his words.

"It isn't? Then why don't you show me what we do." Henrik watched Fritz unbutton and remove his topcoat and toss it on the ground beside his rifle.

Hogan, believing he was about to be executed, said a silent prayer and turned his head expecting to see the muzzle of a rifle aimed at him. Instead, what he saw not only shocked but horrified him as he immediately realized what was about to happen.

These guys can't be serious! he thought to himself as he stared at the guard closest to him.

He saw the guard named Fritz standing over him unfastening his trousers.

Hogan bit his lower lip until it bled and kept his eyes squeezed shut as the abuse continued. So far it had been only Fritz. And now the guard named Henrik was having at him. Hogan refused to cry out in pain from the attack. He refused to give them the satisfaction. But the pain was unbearable as well as humiliating. He wished he could just get his hands free he'd teach them a lesson they'd never forget for torturing him this way. The bastards! he told himself in silent anger. He felt as if he was being torn apart. He only hoped he would survive long enough to get his hands on these four and repay them for this humiliation and dehumanizing attack being inflicted on his person.(1)

Finally, Henrik was done. He got up and looked at the oldest of the guards. "Your turn, Reinhold," he said taking the man's rifle and pointing it at Hogan. Henrik knelt down in front of the American. Through his tears of both pain and rage, Hogan managed a look at the guard. He saw a smirk appear. "Enjoying yourself, swine?" he asked with a chuckle. He saw Hogan grit his teeth from Reinhold's assault. "Nein? Well, we must make sure you do." He looked up for a moment at Reinhold. "Reinhold, our friend here is not enjoying himself. And seeing as he asked for it, we must see he at least gets some pleasure from it. See what you and Hans can do to accommodate our friend here." Before he stood up Henrik caught a cunningly evil smile on Reinhold's face.

Hogan gritted his teeth from the pain as Reinhold seemed to increase the intensity of his assault by digging his fingers painfully into Hogan's shoulders. A handkerchief was then viciously shoved in his mouth gagging him. The abuse from Reinhold continued for what seemed like forever. Then he heard a voice.

"Hurry up, Reinhold. I want to put the finishing touches on our comedian! I want him to never forget his enjoyable experience!"

The pain, to Hogan, ranked up there with the worst pain he had ever endured as a prisoner. If only I could get my hands free, he told himself, after I made them stop I would make them all pay! All of them! If I could just get loose! As Reinhold continued his assault, Hogan strained to free his hands from the belt binding his arms behind him. His quickly realized his struggle to free himself only excited Reinhold more causing him to dig his fingers more into his shoulders as the guard intensified his assault on him. Slowly, Hogan's pain and rage increased. He embarrassingly felt his body shudder in response to the assault on it. He felt so ashamed of himself for not being able to maintain control on top of his pain and rage.

Kinch and Newkirk met up about a mile from the tree stump. They looked around nervously; but all was quiet and still.

"You seen the Gov'nor?" Newkirk asked Kinch.

"No. Have you?"

Newkirk shook his head. "You don't suppose they caught him, do you?"

"I hope not. But there's no way to be sure unless we go look for him."

"Then what are we waiting for?" asked Newkirk as he started off, but stopped when he felt Kinch's hand on his arm. "What?"

"We're gonna need help. We'd better return to camp and get LeBeau and Carter to go with us."

"Kinch, there's no time! The Colonel could be in trouble! And every minute we waste returning to camp means that much longer the Krauts have the Gov'nor!"

"Don't you think I know that! But the two of us against who knows how many Krauts won't help the Colonel. Now let's go!"

With a glance over his shoulder, Newkirk reluctantly followed Kinch back to camp.

Three of the guards stood watching as Hans now assaulted the American. They laughed and egged him on which forced him to intensify his assault as well by also digging his fingers into Hogan's already painful shoulders. Hans chuckled at the American's apparent pain and discomfort. He smirked having watched the American's reaction with Reinhold symbolize their complete sexual control over him. He continued digging his fingers painfully into Hogan's shoulders which the Colonel felt even through his windbreaker. He hurt all over, especially from the waist down. He couldn't believe this was happening to him.

You're all dead men! Hogan told himself. I will kill every one of you bastards! God help you! as he fought unsuccessfully to free his arms from their restraint. As he couldn't, he mercifully passed out soon afterward from the pain.

Finally, after what again seemed like an eternity, Hans was finished. Getting to his feet, he refastened his trousers and with the others stood and looked down at the man they had each violently assaulted.

"Should we shoot him now, Henrik?" asked Reinhold eagerly.

Henrik looked at the unconscious man on the ground. Kneeling down, he pulled up Hogan's trousers but left them unfastened. "We must leave the comedian looking neat," he smirked. "And yes. A bullet to the head is just what he needs. I don't think we should take a chance he wouldn't tell what happened. He has supplied us not only with entertainment, but allowed us to express our own power and control over his kind. Let's finish him off now and then go. All this has made me hungry. Come, after disposing of him, we will go into town and have some dinner."

The four men picked up their weapons and talked about who it would be that would have the pleasure of putting a bullet in Hogan's head. But first, they had a good laugh at the total domination of the American.

Kinch led the way through the woods with Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter behind him. They were all armed with pistols.

"How much further, Kinch?" asked LeBeau. "If the Colonel got away, don't you think we should have run into him by now?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Kinch replied continuing on. He didn't want to admit he was afraid that his commanding officer may have been captured and taken to either SS or Gestapo headquarters. He was also afraid if it was Gestapo headquarters and Hochstetter found out, he would have all the proof he needed that the Colonel was connected to the underground.

Just then, the men heard voices up ahead. Kinch motioned for the others to be quiet and get down. They all crouched low in the bushes. Kinch strained to see what was in front of them.

"What is it?" Newkirk whispered.

"Four SS guards," Kinch replied whispering. "There's also someone lying face-down on top of a downed tree. I can't see who it is though."

"Is it the Colonel?" asked LeBeau, frightened more than before at hearing the SS had somebody on the ground.

Suddenly they heard moaning. Kinch noticed Newkirk about to reply when he heard the soft sound again. This time the others looked at Kinch.

"That sounds like the Colonel," LeBeau remarked, now angry and scared.

Henrik, hearing the moaning, glanced down at the now semi-conscious man. "Reinhold, as you haven't had the pleasure yet, I will let you put a bullet in the American's head." He stepped out of the way as Reinhold picked up his rifle and checked it. He took off the safety and aimed the muzzle at Hogan's head, his finger on the trigger. The Colonel slowly turned his head sideways, bracing for the shot which would end his life. It was then that Kinch got a look at his features in the moonlight; his eyes widened in terror. "Oh my God!" Kinch uttered in shock. "It's the Colonel!" He hurried forward with the others behind him. Kinch fired at the guard who had his rifle aimed at Hogan's head while the others, in shock, turned and ran into the woods. Reinhold was dead before he hit the ground from a bullet in the head. LeBeau and Carter pursued the other three while Newkirk and Kinch stayed with their commanding officer. Kinch unbuckled the belt binding Hogan's wrists and noticed they were bloody. He then gently turned the Colonel onto his back and removed the gag from his mouth.

"Colonel. Colonel Hogan. Are you hurt, sir?" asked Kinch, frightened.

Hogan's eyes fluttered open. He recognized Kinch holding him. "Help…me…hurt…"

"Where are you hurt, Colonel? I don't see any blood on you."

"He's been shot in the leg, mate," the Englander replied. "There's a bloody hole in the right pants leg."

Carter and LeBeau dejectedly rejoined them. Kinch and Newkirk looked around. "Well?" Kinch asked them.

"They got away, mon ami," LeBeau replied, annoyed. "But they were SS. No doubt about it."

"How's the Colonel?" asked Carter softly.

"He's been shot in the leg," Newkirk replied. "That and the blood on his wrists from having them bound too tightly with his belt are the only injuries we could find."

A moan was heard. As the men watched, they saw Hogan wince from the pain he was feeling. "More…pain…hurt…"

Both Kinch and Newkirk suddenly sensed their commanding officer was in more pain than could be expected from a simple bullet wound and injured wrists. It was then Kinch felt Newkirk's hand on his arm. He looked at the Englander.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Kinch, they used the Gov'nor's belt to bind his arms behind him. "But why is the button on his waistband undone, then?"

Kinch's eyes followed Newkirk's to the waistband of Hogan's trousers. The undone button on the Colonel's waistband caused Kinch to bite his lower lip as his anger festered if what he thought had happened had indeed happened.

Carter and LeBeau exchanged confused and frightened looks. "What is it, Kinch? What did they do to the Colonel?" asked LeBeau.

Kinch glanced at Newkirk whose rage was boiling. Then, he looked over his shoulder at Carter and the Frenchman, anger burning in his eyes. LeBeau put a hand over his mouth as it dawned on him as to what Kinch and Newkirk suspected.

"Mon Dieu!" was all the Frenchman uttered.

"What?" asked Carter, confused. "I don't get it."

"Carter!" Newkirk began rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I hope to God I'm wrong. But if I'm not, those three bastards who got away are gonna pay and pay dearly for what they did."

"What did they do?" Carter asked still not getting it.

"I'd rather not say until Wilson's had a chance to check the Gov'nor for injuries," Newkirk explained in as gentle a tone as possible. He didn't want to terrify Carter with what he suspected had been done to their commanding officer. Carter was an innocent, and had probably never been exposed to this kind of thing, and it would be best if he was protected from the knowledge there were people who did this kind of thing to other people.

"Kinch…" Hogan murmured.

The radioman turned his attention to the Colonel. "What is it, sir?"

"…Fritz…Henrik…Rein…hold…Hans…don't tell…hurt…so bad…"

"It's okay, Colonel. We killed one of them. The others got away, but we'll find them. Right now we have to get you back to camp so Wilson can check you out. Can you at least stand up?"

"Don't think so…no…pain…so much…pain…"

Tucking his weapon into the waistband of his trousers, Kinch looked at LeBeau. "Louie, see if there's any identification on that bastard over there."

"Oui. Right away." The Frenchman hurried to where Reinhold's body lay, a bloody circle in the center of his forehead. Avoiding looking at it, LeBeau hastily went through the dead Kraut's pockets before finding his wallet. Opening it, he glanced at the identification before tucking it inside his pants pocket. He rejoined the others. "Filthy Bosche's name is, or was, Reinhold Mueller."

Hearing the dead man's name brought memories of the assault back to Hogan's mind. He whimpered from the pain the memory brought to him. Both the pain and the shame he now felt.

Kinch, getting on one knee, gently scooped Hogan up and cradled him in his strong arms despite the whimpering from the injured officer. Kinch hated causing the Colonel any additional pain, but it couldn't be helped. "I'll be as gentle as I can, Colonel," he said allowing Hogan's head to lay against his chest with closed eyes. Nobody noticed that Hogan had since passed out.

(1) Gang rape is more common in cases involving male than female victims. It is also considered the ultimate form of punishment. Male rape goes as far back as the Vikings who raped male captives to establish their dominance over them.

Germans were prohibited from raping male prisoners by the Nuremberg Race Laws of 1938 as it would be considered a sign of homosexuality and punishable by sterilization. But some Germans did it anyway despite the risk of the harsh punishment they could suffer if found out. Also, during WW2, Soviet soldiers sexually assaulted male German POWs and vice versa.

Prior to that, they were bound by the German Military Laws against the sexual assault on male captives.