A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love.
With thanks to dust on the wind, whose wonderful Anzac Day piece "As we that are left grow old" was the inspiration for this story.
For all those who served their country, and in serving gave 'the last full measure of devotion'.
May 1943
It had been a beautiful sunny day, and the men of Barracks 2 were gathered in the common room just before evening roll call. Most of them were in a good humor, chatting quietly among themselves, but Carter seemed unusually distracted.
He wandered around the room, picking things up and putting them down again. Finally he asked, "Do you know what day it is tomorrow, Peter?"
Newkirk looked up as he shuffled the deck of cards again, slyly slipping the card of his choice onto the bottom. "Not a clue, mate. I 'ave more important things on my mind than keepin' track of the date."
"It will be dimanche," said LeBeau, who missed Newkirk's sleight of hand, despite watching him with understandable suspicion.
"He means Sunday," Kinch clarified, correctly interpreting Carter's befuddled look at LeBeau's response. This didn't seem to be enough information for Carter, so he added, "The thirtieth of May."
Carter gave an unhappy sigh. "That's what I thought. Tomorrow's Decoration Day."
Kinch whistled. "I've got to admit I'd forgotten."
"Me too," said Olsen, picking up the cards Newkirk had just dealt him. "And shame on me for forgetting. Decoration Day is a big deal back home in Lake Wobegon."
"It is in Bullfrog, too," said Carter. "But the big parade is at Crabapple Junction. Come to think of it, Muncie has a nice parade, too."
"But why is it called Decoration Day?" asked LeBeau. "What is it that you decorate on this day?"
"Graves," replied Carter.
"Graves?" Newkirk shook his head as he squinted at the cards in his hand. "And you 'ave a bloody parade to go along with this? If that ain't a typical Yank way of doin' things!"
Kinch's mustache quirked up at one corner in amusement. "The parades are respectful, Peter. It's all part of commemorating those who gave their lives in the service of their country. The tradition started after the Civil War." Then his look became somber, and he added, "My great-grandfather served in the First Michigan Colored Regiment during the Civil War. He never made it back home...buried somewhere in Georgia, I was told. Grandpa never knew him; he was only two when his dad's regiment left Detroit in 1864."
"So you do not have his grave to decorate?" LeBeau asked.
"Nope. Doesn't mean I don't remember him, though."
"Well, that's like it was with my Uncle Joe," said Carter. "He died in the first world war, and he was buried in France. My folks put up a marker for him at the Crabapple Junction cemetery, though. We decorate it every year. 'Course, I couldn't help last year, because by that time I had joined up." He sighed. "Can't help this year either."
"So this day is to honor those who have died fighting for your country." LeBeau nodded in approval. "But you can still honor them here, non?"
Carter's troubled look deepened. "I guess so. My family will be remembering Uncle Joe at home anyway, so that's okay. And I guess Kinch's family will be remembering his great-grandpa in Detroit. But I've been feeling bad lately 'cause it seems like there are some other folks we've forgotten, being busy with the operation and all. People we never even talk about."
Kinch nodded slowly. "I think I see what you're getting at here, Andrew."
"Et moi, aussi," said LeBeau. "You speak of our fellow airmen, the ones who did not survive to be captured as we were. They fought with valor, and who knows where their final resting place is?"
"Like Collins and Taylor," said Kinch sadly. "They never even got a chance to bail out when we were shot down."
Carter said in a constricted voice, "My best pal never made it either."
"I'd like a chance to remember me mates," said Newkirk, who was unusually subdued, the card game forgotten. "The lads who died at Dunkirk."
They all fell silent for a moment, remembering those they had lost.
Olsen roused himself from his abstraction. "Of course, we don't have a graveyard here at Stalag 13."
The unspoken thought went through all their minds. Not yet, thank God.
Kinch rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So there's nowhere to put markers for the guys we've lost. But there's no reason we can't have a remembrance. A ceremony, you know? Everyone here has lost buddies in this war."
Carter looked doubtful. "But will Klink allow it?"
"Leave him to me, fellas." The assembled men turned to see their commanding officer standing in the doorway of his quarters. Hogan smiled wryly as he looked around at the serious faces. "I'm sorry I hadn't thought of this myself. But it's a good idea, and somehow I don't think Klink will object."
…
The next morning after roll call, Colonel Klink had Schultz dismiss the prisoners and he returned to his office. Instead of attacking the mountain of paperwork on his desk, he went to the open window to watch the prisoners who were now gathered outside of Barracks 2. It appeared the entire camp had turned out for the occasion.
The guards were watchful, but at a gesture and a word from Schultz, they stood back at a respectful distance while the ceremony took place.
The prisoners seemed to be taking turns speaking, and then Hogan spoke, and Klink saw a few men wipe tears from their eyes. He couldn't hear exactly what Hogan said, and he didn't recognize the tune that they sang at the end, but he understood what they were doing. They were remembering, and honoring, their dead.
Klink nodded to himself as he watched. He had not objected when Hogan proposed the ceremony; much to Hogan's surprise, no doubt. But the Kommandant knew in his heart it was right that the prisoners should be allowed to do this. It was right that their fallen comrades be remembered in this way.
Johan, he thought, remembering a bitter day and a brave soldier back in 1917.
And he bowed his head.
A/N: In the United States, Memorial Day was commonly known as Decoration Day prior to WWII.
For those who might wonder just what Hogan said, and what song the group sang: I'd like to think that everyone has their own favorite readings and songs of commemoration (whether it be for Memorial Day, Remembrance Day, Anzac Day, or Volkstrauertag), and so I leave it to the reader's imagination.
As for me, I listen to the National Memorial Day Concert every year, and my favorite part has always been a song that was written in 1955, but it voices a wish that I think everyone at Stalag 13 would share:
Let there be peace on earth.