.

The first line in this story is originally from "Accidental Truths," by Tuttle4077

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

and I will admit, that this is a bit cruel.

There must've been something wrong with the mirror. It had to be the light. Hogan swung the door of his locker a bit closer and then changed the angle. He looked again. No. It didn't work. He pushed the door back further. Again, no change. He tilted his head up, and tilted it back. He turned a bit to the right, and then to the left.

"Son of a…" He held his tongue, lest the men outside heard the type of words that should never come out of the mouth of a commanding officer, at least publicly, that is.

"Damn, I've only been here two years, and it looks like I've aged six. Whoever said gray hair makes a man look distinguished was obviously blind."

The colonel continued to get dressed. Removing his slacks from the hanger, he admired the creases…LeBeau had done his usual terrific job of ironing…and pulled them on. He tucked in his shirt, buckled his belt, and then once again looked at the man staring back at him from the mirror. He shook his head, and in disgust, grabbed his crush cap and plopped it on his head, hoping to hide the signs of aging that had suddenly seemed to crop up overnight.

His staff was gathered around the table in the common room. They were engrossed in a card game, and failed to notice that their commanding officer had left his office.

"Ahem."

The card game stopped in mid-deal. All four looked up.

"Morning, Colonel," Carter said with a bit of wariness, for he noticed the look on Hogan's face. "Roll call in two minutes," he added helpfully.

"I know," was the reply. "Where's everyone else?"

"Already outside. Something wrong, sir?" asked Kinch.

"No. Nothing wrong," Hogan snapped. He walked over to the table and stared at Newkirk. "You're out of regulation, Corporal. And out of fashion. Shave off those sideburns." Without waiting for an answer, he walked out of the hut, slamming the door behind him.

LeBeau stood up and leaned over the astonished British corporal. "I warned you he would eventually notice."

Newkirk slammed down the card deck. "Can't catch a break, can I? You mark my words, they'll make a comeback," he said as he stroked his chin.

"Don't know what you're griping about, Newkirk," said Kinch. "You've had him like that for months. I'm surprised he didn't notice them earlier."

"Never mind that. What's the matter with Colonel Hogan?" Concern was etched on Carter's face.

"Got off on the wrong side of bed this morning, if you ask me."

"Well, Newkirk. I can't see how that's possible. The other side is the wall."

Newkirk shook his head. "It's a saying, Andrew."

The four men hurried outside and took their place in formation. It was cold, and they immediately began blowing on their hands, and stamping their feet in order to keep warm. While the rest of the barracks did the same, and as Schultz headed over to begin the count, Hogan remained still and silent.

Even Schultz noticed the colonel's change in demeanor. "Something wrong, Colonel Hogan?" he asked. "Are you ill?"

"No. I'm fine."

The tone in the colonel's voice surprised the sergeant, and he quickly stepped back, wondering if the normally cheery American officer had got off on the wrong side of bed that morning. Fortunately for Schultz, however, everyone was where he was supposed to be, and for that he was grateful. He turned and waited to make his report to the Kommandant.

HhHhH

The Kommandant was late, his morning routine taking longer than usual.

There must've been something wrong with the mirror. Assuming it had to be the light, Klink turned one way, then the other. He moved his face closer to the mirror, and peered at the face staring back at him. No, there was nothing wrong. The mirror was fine.

"It can't be," he muttered, as he stroked his bald pate. "How can I lose this much hair in so short a time? Mmmph." He shook his fist, then turned quickly and stomped out of the bathroom. He was now late for inspection, and this made him angrier. His first stop would be Barracks two, where he would inspect the formation of men and exchange morning pleasantries with the Senior POW officer, Colonel Hogan.

Hogan! That was it. Since Hogan's arrival, Klink realized, he had been losing hair at a ferocious rate. Klink recalled he had almost a full head of hair before the American officer arrived at Stalag 13. Hogan had been at the camp just over two years, and in those two years, Klink had lost so much hair that his pate resembled a bowling ball. Now thoroughly disgusted, the Kommandant grabbed his cap and swagger cane, and left his quarters, slamming the door behind him. The Kommandant slapped the cap onto his head, and marched over to Barracks two. Even from a distance, the guards and prisoners in the compound could sense trouble brewing.

"The Iron Eagle appears to be in a bad mood this morning, sir," Olsen whispered from his spot behind Hogan.

Hogan answered with a grunt, and stared blankly ahead.

"Repooorttt!" Klink yelled as he approached.

"All present and accounted for," Schultz replied.

Klink approached Hogan and glared at the colonel for a brief moment. Hogan glared back.

Hogan won the stare-down as the Kommandant blinked first. He noticed that Hogan appeared off this morning. The pilot's arms were not wrapped around his chest, but were down at his side, and his posture was ramrod straight.

"Is there something wrong, Colonel Hogan? Are you ill?"

"No, sir. Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Hogan tilted his head for a moment. "What about you? You seem off as well."

"Aha!" Klink exclaimed. "You admit there is something wrong!"

"I didn't admit to anything, sir!" Hogan stepped forward a bit, while at the same time, Klink matched the colonel's stride and stepped forward as well. "If you don't mind me getting personal, you seem out-of-sorts. We all noticed it when you were walking over here. Didn't we men?" Hogan couldn't help but fall into machination mode; it was as natural and easy as falling off a log.

His men all answered with sympathetic mutters and words of concern.

"Very well then. You are correct. Something is amiss." Klink removed his cap. "You're responsible for this!"

"Pardon me?" Hogan replied. "Something wrong with your head? What did I do?"

"Since you arrived here, Hogan, I've been losing hair at a remarkable rate. Normally it takes years to go bald. You've only been here two."

"That's true," Schultz agreed. "I've noticed."

Klink turned. "Who asked you? As I was saying. Look at this. I could be in violation of blackout regulations."

"So, you're bald. Things could be worse. You could be sent to the Russian Front. Then your head would really be cold." Hogan chuckled. "You lose most of your body heat through your head," he added.

"That is not helpful," Klink replied.

"Instead of saying you're bald, sir. Why don't you say you're follicly challenged? That has a better ring to it."

"I come from a long line of military men blessed with full heads of hair into their 70's and 80's. Clearly, Hogan, you are responsible for this."

"Come on. That's a bit of a stretch. What have I done?"

"Strange things have been happening in this camp since you arrived. Don't deny it." Klink slapped his left hand with the swagger cane a bit too hard, and he grimaced in pain.

"Haven't I gotten you out of precarious situations? Would you like me to make a list?" Hogan began counting off on his fingers. "Let's see. There was the time…"

"That's enough!"

"You know, Kommandant. If anyone has a right to complain about rapid aging, it's me. Look at this!" Hogan removed his cap.

"Look at what?" Klink asked.

"My hair!"

Klink looked, and sure enough, not only was Hogan's hairline receding, but the man was turning, no-he had turned-gray. Klink felt vindicated. He knew something was bothering the American officer.

Intrigued by this interesting new development and the repartee between the two colonels, the entire barracks gathered around.

"Blimey," Newkirk said. "So that's what got in his knickers in a twist? A bit of gray hair?"

"Yeah," Carter chuckled. "And he took it out on you. I'd go in right now and shave off those sideburns."

"I think it makes you look distinguished, Colonel Hogan," Schultz said.

"Who asked you?" Hogan and Klink replied in unison.

Schultz stepped back, mumbling something about vain officers and how everyone had aged about a decade since the war started.

"At least, Colonel Hogan. You still have some hair."

"You still have a bit on the sides, Kommandant," Hogan said as he put his cap back on his head.

"Yes. Well that is true," Klink agreed, as he did the same.

Hogan was beginning to feel a bit ridiculous. Worrying about gray hair when millions were dying was, well, selfish.

"Poor diet and stress take a toll, Kommandant," he said. "On everyone."

Klink nodded. "Duly noted." He paused for a moment. "You may dismiss your men, Hogan." Klink turned and walked over to the next set of barracks. He too, felt a bit foolish, although he admitted to himself that he would be first in line for the cure for baldness, if one ever became available.

The men of Barracks two shuffled back into the hut. A few then left to head towards the mess hall for breakfast, while the rest decided to make do with the food they had available to them in the barracks.

Hogan poured himself a cup of coffee, and then turned to Newkirk. "You think there's any chance of needing a gas mask around here?"

"I highly doubt it, Guv'nor."

Hogan nodded. "You can keep your sideburns, for now."

"Thank you, sir."

After breakfast, when Hogan left the barracks to see to official business, the four men closest to the colonel headed down into an area of the tunnels where they couldn't be overheard.

"To tell you the truth, I never noticed the gray hair. Seemed to happen overnight," Newkirk admitted to the other three.

"I think women notice those things more than men," LeBeau said.

The others nodded in agreement.

"So, you don't think he's realized…?" Carter asked.

"It's been a week," Newkirk replied. "If Colonel Hogan hasn't realized I've let out his slacks by now, I don't think he ever will."

Yes, I am poking fun at Richard Dawson's out-of-place sideburns, and of course, at Bob Crane's change in appearance, especially in the last season. Actors do age, and when a show lasts much longer than the war, it is all the more obvious. (look at Alan Alda in MASH)

In the first season episode, "Go Light on the Heavy Water," Klink is fooled into thinking that heavy water brought into camp can actually make hair grow. He's shown being a bit vain about his appearance and very concerned about his baldness.

And I'd like to thank Sgt. Hakeswill for suggesting the use of Klink in this story, which I just wrote and got up at the last minute.