A note from the authors - we wrote this story to honor and celebrate the 50th Anniversary of Hogan's Heroes. This story was written as a round robin which means that we took turns writing sections of the story, but there was no planning or collaboration behind the scenes as the challenge was to build off of whatever the person who went before you did (hence why things do get a little crazy). We had a blast writing this and hope that you enjoy reading the result.

The Nimrod Caper

By: Book 'em Again, FloatingPizza, Me & Sgt. Moffitt

Chapter One

March 8th, 1945

As Hogan sipped a cup of coffee, he surveyed his men lounging around the barracks. With no current missions to prepare for, they were taking advantage of the lull in action to read letters from home and play various games of chance. It was a familiar scene, one he could have described in detail blindfolded. From the way Newkirk held his cigarette to Carter's goofy grin to LeBeau's mutterings as he stirred a much too watered down soup, it was a scene that could have happened yesterday, last week or even last year.

Hogan knew these men. He knew their quirks, their likes, their dislikes. He knew what buttons to push to calm them down or rile them up. After years together, there was very little they could do to surprise one another anymore. So it was no small shock to the American officer when he noticed Kinch clattering up the ladder loud enough to be mistaken for a herd of elephants before pushing a few POWs out of the way like a linebacker trying to get through to the quarterback, as he hurried over to a spot where they had hidden a small radio. "Kinch, what ...?"

Kinch didn't look up as he grabbed the device and started fiddling with the dials. "London has a message for all of us."

"Over the BBC?"

"Yes, sir."

The barracks grew silent in anticipation. Hogan wasn't the only one surprised by the out-of-character behavior of the American POW. Something was up. Something big. Something that would almost certainly turn this day from a dull, monotonous one to one full of excitement and danger.

Kinch found the station in time for them to listen to the final few lines of "We'll Meet Again." Vera Lynn's vocals brought a smile to most of the men in the room. There was something comforting in the sound of a woman's voice.

When the music ended, a broadcaster said, "I have important news from the front lines. We can announce that yesterday Allied forces crossed the Rhine into Germany. I repeat, Allied forces are now in Germany."

If there was more to the message, Hogan didn't hear it as the entire barracks shook with cheers. This was a moment that they had all been waiting on for a long time. He remembered after Normandy his men had been convinced that they would be home by Christmas, only to have those dreams dashed as fighting at the border had stretched on for months. But now the Allies had finally broken through. They had hope again.

Hogan whistled and the cheers quieted down to a dull roar. Raising his voice, he said, "The war isn't over yet, gentlemen. It could take weeks or months for the army to reach us." Then looking at Kinch, he asked, "Is there more?"

"Yes, sir. We've been ordered to halt all rescue operations. The route to the coast is no longer safe. Our orders are to focus on intelligence gathering: troop movements, names of commanders in the area. They had a pretty long list."

The list Kinch handed over was indeed rather exhaustive. As Hogan read the orders, he quipped, "Basically if anything happens between the coast and Berlin, they want us to find out about it."

Newkirk, however, didn't find it funny. "Great! Who does London think we are? The closer the Allies come to us, the more German troops will be out there. How are we supposed to learn anything without getting shot?"

LeBeau agreed. "We didn't survive this long to die now."

Even Carter looked uneasy at the prospect. "Do you think we can really learn anything that will help?"

Hogan let anger creep into his voice. "You want to survive this war? Well, so do those poor guys fighting their way across Germany to us. They're risking their lives to save ours, the least we can do is return the favor."

When Hogan stopped, his men looked away as the objections ceased. They really were good men. They just needed a kick in the rear once in a while.

"Colonel," Baker called out from his place by the window, "You're going to want to see this."

Hogan hurried over. A quick glance outside showed an unfamiliar car come to a stop in front of Klink's office. He grinned; it looked like they were going to get started on their mission even sooner than anyone expected.

As the heroes rushed to listen in on the coffeepot, Major Wolfgang Hochstetter stomped into the Kommandant's office. "Klink," he stated as if it was a law of nature, "You will lend me some of your guards. I have word that a very dangerous man is in the area."

"Major Hochstetter, may I remind you that my camp is under the direction of General Burkhalter," Klink stated as he rose at his desk.

"I do not care, Klink," Hochsetter said as he removed his gloves. He picked up the phone and asked to be placed in touch with Berlin as Klink gave him a defeated look. "Ja, this is Major Hochstetter. Ja, I am here." He spoke a little more as Hogan entered Klink's office.

"Not now, Hogan," Klink said in a hushed voice as Hochstetter hung up the phone. "Major Hochstetter is looking for a very dangerous man."

"Al Capone's available if you can break him out of Alcatraz," Hogan offered. When Hochstetter glowered at him, Hogan nonchalantly added, "He'd make a good Gestapo agent."

"Schultz, escort Colonel Hogan out! This is a very delicate matter, and I cannot have the most dangerous man in Germany here," Hochstetter ordered.

Schultz had been standing inside Klink's door. He politely took Hogan's arm and explained, "The Major is probably on the lookout for Papa Bear again."

"For your information I have my eye on Papa Bear all the time. It is Nimrod I am searching for."

Hogan brushed Schultz's hand off. "Wow, so is this Nimrod more dangerous than Papa Bear? This is fun to have debates like this, isn't it, Schultz," Hogan asked, turning to the Sergeant of the Guard with feigned excitement. He realized later that he'd probably sounded a little too much like Carter in that aspect. "So, what makes this Nimrod more dangerous than Papa Bear?"

"Klink, what is this man doing here?" Hochstetter demanded to know.

Hogan folded his arms. "You know… it reminds me of when I was a boy. Who's the better centerfielder? Cobb or Speaker?"

"Cobb was Detroit and Speaker was Cleveland, right?" Schultz inquired. He'd heard so much about baseball from the men, he thought he recalled those facts.

"See, Schultz knows. Now, part of it is that Speaker played shallow because he couldn't go in as fast on fly balls, while Cobb played deep, so Speaker got lots of double plays…"

"WHAT IS THIS MAN DOING HERE?!"

Hogan shrugged. "Just a little hot stove baseball. So, let's analyze your guys: what's special about Nimrod? Who is he? How is he more dangerous?"

Sufficiently angered to reply without thinking, Hochstetter exploded while throwing down his gloves. "Nimrod is a very important British agent who supplies top secret information, one who because of the Allies' invasion has come even more dangerous than Papa Bear—and I continue to believe you and he are the same man!"

"Or she. Could be a woman," Hogan interjected to throw the Major off.

"Wouldn't that be Mama Bear then?" Schultz inquired.

"What do I care? I do not even care who Cobb or Speaker are!"

Still ignoring the Major's fury—which fueled his fire—Hogan said, "Well, of course, DiMaggio's probably got both topped now. Kinch has even mentioned a guy named Charleston…"

Finally with a chance to get a word in edgewise after lots of silent, timid gestures, Klink said, "Hogan, out!"

Hogan began to leave, but as he stood in the doorway he turned back. "Got any more tidbits for our hot stove debate about Nimrod versus Papa Bear—or Mama Bear?"

The Major was sufficiently calm now to simply order Hogan out, so the American colonel left. However, as he walked back to barracks 2, he had an idea of how they might get some of that information—if only they could figure out who Nimrod was.

Hogan slogged through the March mud back to Barracks 2 in a very thoughtful mood. Finding Nimrod was going to be a problem; the only contact the Heroes had ever had with the celebrated British spy was more than a year ago. A brief note (attached to secret plans for a German jet airplane) had been discovered inside a box containing a model airplane kit that had been supposedly supplied by the Red Cross:

My dear Colonel—

Clever, the way you got Wagner out of that prison camp. Kindly be just as clever and get these plans out of this one.

Until we meet again—

Nimrod

"Until we meet again"? They had never met Nimrod the first time around, and had never heard from him—or her—since. How on earth could they find the master spy now? Hogan shook his head as he opened the barracks door.

Kinch, Newkirk, Baker, LeBeau and Carter were waiting for him, and obviously what they had overheard on the coffeepot tap was not what they had expected. They stared at their commander with varying degrees of bewilderment, and Hogan stared back at them, not sure where to start.

Finally Kinch said, "Why the heck is Hochstetter wasting time looking for Nimrod? Any Gestapo officer with a brain in his head would be making tracks for Argentina right now!"

"Yeah, well, nobody ever accused Hochstetter of having brains," Hogan replied. "We're the ones who got him all worked up about Nimrod in the first place, remember. That's probably why he thinks he can pick up the trail of the master spy right here at Stalag 13."

Baker shook his head. "And now we're stuck with Hochstetter in our midst at a time like this."

"But why can't we just get rid of 'im, guv'nor?" Newkirk said in a plaintive tone. "What good is having Hochstetter on our doorstep?"

"I know how to get rid of him," Carter said, nodding wisely.

All eyes turned to him, and LeBeau cleared his throat. "Please enlighten us, mon ami."

"Yeah," said Hogan. "Please do."

Carter shrugged. "It's simple, guys. We just give him what he wants."

"Give him Nimrod?" Kinch began to laugh. "Even if we were willing to do something as treasonous as that, we don't have a clue who Nimrod is, any more than Hochstetter does."

"Hold on a minute," Hogan said. "Carter's on the right track, believe it or not. We should give Nimrod to Hochstetter."

"Crackers," Newkirk muttered to himself. "Round the bleedin' bend, he is." He raised his voice. "And supposin' we find Nimrod, Colonel? Why would we do something so stupid as to give 'im to Hochstetter?"

There was a familiar gleam in Hogan's eye as he wrapped his arms around himself. "Because Hochstetter believes Nimrod has important information that would hurt the German cause. That's the kind of information London is looking for right now." He paused. "Presumably Nimrod has not already transmitted this information to London."

Kinch's eyes widened. "And if he—or she—hasn't transmitted that information…"

"Then it is up to us to do it, vite!" LeBeau announced.

Carter looked from one face to another. "I was just trying to make a joke, guys! How would giving Nimrod to Hochstetter get us that information, anyway?"

"We don't even know who or where Nimrod is," Baker grumbled. "We're talking in circles here!"

"Not at all," said Hogan. "Nobody knows who Nimrod is, so all we have to do is produce him—or her—and Hochstetter will reveal everything we need to know."

"Okay, I get it," said Kinch. "So who's going to play Nimrod?"

"Good question," Hogan replied. "And the winner is…"