Full Title: "Home Sweet Home," or "Five Times Karl Langescheidt Was Glad He Was Stationed At Stalag 13, and One Time He Wished He Was Anywhere Else".
Disclaimers: I don't own Hogan's Heroes or any of the characters.
A/N: German dialogue and terms will be indicated by italics. And, because I am far better with Spanish as a second language than German, any corrections on my grammar and/or spelling would be most appreciated! Thanks to konarciq for pointing out a few errors on my part. Cheers!
Part 1: First Impressions
Stalag 13 was not exactly like what Corporal Karl Langenscheidt thought it would be. When he'd been told that he was being transferred to the Luftstalag after losing his truck's cargo (though not his life) to an ambush by the Underground, he'd all but died right then and there. It could have been worse โ they could have sent him to the Russian front, after all. But Stalag 13 was reputed to be the toughest prison camp in all of Germany, commanded by the Iron Colonel, Oberst Wilhelm Klink, an officer of the old Prussian aristocracy. No prisoner had ever successfully escaped from his stalag, so when Karl arrived, he was expecting to find only the toughest guards, the most ruthless officers and soldiers of the Luftwaffe.
He was doomed.
The first thing he noticed about Stalag 13 was the prisoners cheerfully playing a ball game of rather indeterminate nature โ right in front of the kommandant's office. The German guards idled around, barely paying any attention at all. The largest of them, wearing the stripes of an Oberfeldwebel, appeared to be snacking on a bar of chocolate, which immediately set Karl's mouth watering. As he climbed out of the personnel truck, Karl heard a voice speaking in English, a language he spoke to some degree โ which no doubt played some part in his transfer here, rather than the Russian front.
"Schultz," a man said in a sing-song tone. "You've got a visitor!"
"Tell him to come back later. I'm busy," the sergeant replied in the same language, his mouth full of chocolate.
Karl came around the truck to stand at attention in front of the enormously fat sergeant and, strangely enough, an American officer, a handsome fellow with brown hair, dark eyes, and a keen grin at odds with his surroundings. "Sergeant Schultz," Karl said in German, "I am Corporal Karl Langenscheidt. I have just been transferred here."
The sergeant instantly hid the chocolate in his coat, suddenly becoming aware that someone was paying attention. The American officer's eyes sparkled. "Don't worry," the American said to Karl in English, "Stick around here a few weeks, and you'll be just as combat-ready as old Schultz here!"
"Jolly joker!" grumbled Schultz, also in English. "You're a prisoner here, Colonel Hogan. It is my job to see to the guards, not yours!"
"You keep saying that! I'll try to remember that for next time!" the strange American prisoner quipped, not at all intimidated. When Schultz shot him a bristling look of annoyance, the colonel relented, but it was clear that he only chose to leave of his own volition, rather than any of Schultz's doing.
Muttering under his breath, Schultz turned his attention to Karl. "Let me see your papers, Corporal," he said, switching to German. Karl handed over the documents for the sergeant's perusal. After a few moment's inspection, he handed them back. "Alles en Ordnung, Obergefreiter. Now you will see the kommandant. Follow me, Corporal."
The fat sergeant led Karl to the kommandantur. In the outer office, a lovely blonde-haired lady, a veritable vision of German womanhood, sat at her desk, tapping away on a typewriter. She looked up with a brilliant smile as they walked in. Schultz marched right over to her and popped a kiss on her cheek.
"Hello, baby," he smiled, his face flushed with pleasure as he addressed her. "Is the Big Shot busy?"
The secretary (what an inadequate label for such a beautiful woman!) peeked around Schultz's bulk and favored Karl with a pearly white smile. "A new man for him to give his indoctrination lecture?" she asked the sergeant, her eyes shining with mirth.
At this moment, Karl couldn't care less about the Iron Colonel. There was nowhere on Earth he'd rather be than right here at Stalag 13, drowning in the loveliness of a fair frรคulein.
