A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love.
A few missing scenes from "Hogan's Hofbräu".
It was just after roll call, and the residents of Barracks 2 watched with unconcealed envy as Colonel Robert Hogan peered at his reflection in the cracked mirror over the sink. He smoothed his hair carefully and straightened his tie, then brushed off his immaculate uniform. (It must be admitted that the garment set him off to advantage, in spite of—or maybe because of—the fact that it was a German uniform.)
"Any of that bay rum after-shave available, Kinch?" Hogan asked, and the other men in the common room all snickered and nudged each other knowingly.
Kinch grinned. "Yep, and it's the best concoction yet. You wouldn't believe the ingredients Carter used."
"Hey!" came the indignant response from Carter's bunk. "That's proprietary information, y'know. I made a bundle on that bay rum when I managed the drugstore in Muncie. No way am I gonna reveal the secret formula!"
"Your secret is safe with me, Carter." Hogan accepted the bottle proffered by Kinch, and splashed a judicious amount on his freshly shaven visage. He glanced at himself once more in the mirror and hummed a little tune.
LeBeau cleared his throat. "Mon Colonel, you will be careful at Hilda's Hofbräu tonight, oui?"
Hogan straightened and turned away from the sink, heaving a theatrical sigh. "I am prepared to do my duty, gentlemen. As difficult and dangerous as it may be."
"If it's going to be so ruddy difficult, why don't you send me instead, Colonel?" Newkirk suggested. "That uniform would fit me, and you know I 'ave a way with the birds."
His bunkmates regarded him with derision. "You have a way, all right," said Kinch, rolling his eyes.
"C'est vrai!" LeBeau agreed. "You should never be allowed near another woman again, Pierre. Especially a blonde one."
"Yeah!" Carter piped up. "I hear this Hilda is a blonde, and real pretty too. Better not let Newkirk go, Colonel."
"Never fear," Hogan assured them all. "This is one mission I must tackle by myself."
When Hogan (aka Major Hoople) arrived at Hilda's Hofbräu an hour later, he found a very busy beer garden indeed. It was crowded with men in uniform and their female companions, but the comely woman behind the bar greeted him as warmly as if he were her only customer.
She took him to a table nearby, which was already occupied by two Heer officers. They greeted him affably enough, and introduced themselves as Hauptmann Milheiser and Leutnant Dürnitz: apparently the same two who had visited Klink earlier in the day. Hilda served them with beer, and Hogan found himself chatting easily with his companions. After steering the conversation with his usual skill, Hogan ended up in possession of some valuable intelligence for London regarding the deployment of the Adolf Hitler Division.
But it wasn't enough. He excused himself and moved through the crowd, keeping his his ears open. There must be dozens of conversations going on: what an opportunity for eavesdropping! He needed a way to get his men here to listen in, but how? In the meantime, he felt sure it would be wise to cultivate the acquaintance of the lovely Hilda.
As the evening drew to an end and the occupants of the Hofbräu drifted out by twos and threes, Hilda's barman moved around the taproom preparing to close. At length he put on his overcoat and bade his employer a gruff goodbye. Hogan waited patiently as Hilda closed and locked the door, and he smiled when she invited him to sit down for a quiet chat.
Usually when Hogan was alone with a pretty girl, chatting was not uppermost on his mind. But tonight, after a few kisses and cuddles, he found his conversation with Hilda to be very useful indeed. She confided sadly that unless help could be found, she would have to close the Hofbräu. So Hogan seized the opportunity to suggest a work detail of POWs to act as wait staff for her.
Hilda was delighted. "That would be marvelous! Oh, Major, how can I ever express my appreciation?" she breathed, her cheek warm against his.
He pulled away to gaze at her ripe beauty and felt his blood heat. "Not at all, Liebchen. All I ask is the honor to serve you."
Her thick lashes dropped to hide her eyes. "You really wish to serve me?"
"In any way I can," Hogan said, gallant as ever.
Hilda got up and went to fetch her overcoat, giving him a laughing glance over her shoulder. "Then perhaps you could escort me home?"
Hogan smiled. This evening is certainly turning out well, he thought.
The streets of Hammelburg were quiet as Hogan and Hilda strolled toward her home on a side street a few blocks from the Hofbräu. He unlocked the door for her and Hilda slipped past him to turn on a floor lamp. She took his hat and coat and said brightly, "And now, Herr Major, perhaps you could do another favor for me?"
"Anything, Liebchen."
She took him by the hand and led him away—to the kitchen. Before he could say a word, Hilda switched on the overhead light and pointed to the sink. "The drain was blocked before I left home. Could you attend to it while I see to the children?"
"You want me to fix the drain?" Hogan's voice was a squeak of surprise as he automatically accepted the rubber plunger she handed him. Then her final words hit home. "Children?"
"Ja, the children. I have eight, you know. My eldest is fifteen and a very great help, but I always wake her to let her know I am home." She smiled fondly. "And the little ones have no doubt tossed off their covers. I shall be back very soon." She vanished from the kitchen and Hogan was left alone with his thoughts—and a clogged drain.
He sighed, took the plunger in hand and grimly approached the sink. A few unpleasant minutes later the drain was gurgling freely and Hogan gave another sigh, one of relief this time. He looked at his watch; maybe there was still time for some snuggling! Hilda should be certainly be in a grateful and melting mood by now...
There was a sound of footsteps behind him and Hogan turned to face his hostess. Hilda had changed into something more comfortable while upstairs—with the operative word being comfortable. He stared aghast at the lovely woman who was now wrapped in a heavy chenille bathrobe with thick wool socks on her feet and her golden hair hidden by some sort of nightcap. And...and...what was that on her face?
Hilda gave a merry trill of laughter at his look of dismay. "You are surprised to see my cold cream? At my age, it is so necessary." She stepped closer and peered into the sink. "It is fixed? Danke!"
"Bitte," Hogan responded weakly.
Hilda gave him a dazzling smile. "And could you please put that box on the high shelf over there? And perhaps change a light bulb for me?"
Twenty minutes, a leaky faucet and a stuck chimney damper later, Hogan found himself being hustled to the front door. Hilda handed him his hat and coat with admonitions to cover up well, since the night was so cold.
In a daze, Hogan stumbled through the doorway onto the front step. He turned back to look at Hilda, but before he could speak, she had one last instruction for him.
"Don't forget to bring your prisoners to the Hofbräu tomorrow!"
The door closed firmly in his face, and that was the end of that. He turned to go, for he had a weary three miles to hike back to the camp, with no romantic memories to keep him warm. As he trudged along, he tried to figure out where he had gone wrong. This had never happened to him before!
Women, he thought, shaking his head with disgust.
An exhausted Hogan finally made his way back to the tree stump entrance, and managed to get down the ladder without breaking his neck. In the tunnel he found his second-in-command waiting for him.
"Mission accomplished, sir?" Kinch inquired. "Did you get the information you were looking for?"
"Information?" Hogan said, suppressing a yawn as he tried to remember what his original mission had been. "Oh yeah, the information. I've got some stuff for you to transmit to London all right; the Hofbräu is lousy with men from the Adolf Hitler Division. And the boys can go over there tomorrow on a work detail—as waiters they'll be able to overhear all sorts of stuff. I arranged it all with Hilda."
Kinch's left eyebrow shot up and a smile slowly spread across his face. "You arranged it with Hilda? How did you manage that?"
Hogan thought about giving Kinch the true story, but decided against it. After all, he had an image to maintain.
"Sorry, Kinch. A gentleman never tells."