I had already uploaded the samples for Unsung Heroes, House and Legion, but I decided to have a series of "samples" instead so it'll be easier to keep track of them. :) So, this "sample" is actually extended because when I had uploaded it last time, I hadn't uploaded it all on purpose, but no y'all can read the whole chapter. :D
Note: This story will not be historically accurate, just like the show (Hogan's Heroes, which this is a parody of. It's a TV show that was based in a POW camp in Germany during WWII. The TV show was based off of the movie Stalag 17.)
I do not own Hogan's Heroes, HOA or the characters. But I own some; Colonel Kintz, Sergeant Fitz, General Herrmann, and Dr. Deforest!
Enjoy!
"Colonel Clarke," Colonel Kintz addressed, standing in front of the frosted window of his office, looking out into the small prisoners-of-war camp. He turned back to Jerome Clarke sharply; the heels of his German leather boots clicked together. "I pray that you and your men and women will not attempt to make an escape tonight while General Herrmann is here for dinner."
Jerome smiled. "Sir, you have my word; none of the prisoners here will attempt to break out of the camp."
"And remember, Colonel, a new prisoner will be arriving this afternoon. He's British, I believe. I'm sure you two will have much to talk about." Kintz looked back at the window, eyeing the prisoners in the yard; some tossing a ball between each other, some were talking amongst themselves, some doing work for misbehaving.
Jerome leaned toward Kintz's desk and placed his hands on the cigar box, giving the lid a tug. When it didn't budge, he rolled his blue eyes and pulled the stem out of the back where the hinges were. "I can't wait to meet him." he said, pulling out three cigars and sliding them into the pocket on the inside of his brown leather jacket. He put the stem back into the hinges and stood up, taking off his hat, running a hand through his hair and putting his cap back in place. "Is that all you needed me for, sir?"
"One more thing," Kintz said, turning and sitting at his desk. "All prisoners are confined to the barracks starting at 1800 hours tonight. Lights out at 2100 hours sharp."
"Sir, I object." Jerome frowned, taking off his hat and dropping it onto the German helmet that sat on the desk.
Kintz took the hat off the helmet and tossed it back to the British colonel. "What do you object to?"
"What do you expect us to do for the three hours we're not allowed to leave the barracks? We'll be bored out of our minds. The Red Cross shipments haven't come yet, which have our board game orders." He dropped the hat again.
"That is none of my concern, Colonel Clarke." Kintz said tiredly, taking the hat off his helmet again.
"Make the curfew time 2200 hours." He demanded.
"Very well, 2200—2200 hours," the German colonel looked up at him in confusion. "Why ten o'clock?"
"Then we have extra time to plan our escapes for tomorrow night and it won't disturb your meal with General Herrmann."
"Oh, yes, thank you," he nodded, saluting him.
Jerome saluted, a smirk plastered on his face. He turned and opened the door.
"Colonel Clarke," the commandant called, standing from his desk.
"Don't worry, Colonel, I was just joking. After all, there has never been an escape from Stalag 13, am I right?"
"Yes, yes, of course; you will not succeed, and anyone that tries will be severely punished—30 days in the Cooler."
"Understood," Jerome walked out and closed the door behind him. "Afternoon, Fräulein Elsa."
"Good afternoon, Colonel." The blonde secretary smiled flirtatiously.
Jerome left the commandant's office building and jogged down the steps, flicking the bill of his army cap. He marched across the yard into the shade of the second barrack.
"What Kintz have to say?" Staff Sergeant Eddie Miller asked, pulling the collar of his green jacket tighter around his neck.
"We're getting a new prisoner in today. And General Herrmann is paying the camp another visit tonight."
"Let me guess, we're confined to the barracks starting at 1900 hours?"
"1800. But I got our curfew bumped back to 2200 hours. We'll be able to get Peters and Marks out by then, right?"
"Affirmative, Patricia finished the IDs this morning."
"Good." Jerome rubbed his hands together and grinned, jerking his head toward the sergeant across the yard. "Fitz looks to be having a little bit of trouble."
"I think he'd appreciate a helping hand." Eddie smirked, following Jerome to the side of the German truck.
"Let me help you with that, Fitz." Jerome rushed up and grabbed the other end of the long, wooden box, labeled Rifles in German.
"Oh, thank you, Colonel Clarke." the pudgy sergeant breathed, lifting the end he held into Eddie's hands.
They set the box against the side of the storage building and went to grab another crate.
"So, Fitz, what do you know about the new prisoner that's coming here?" Jerome asked.
"Oh, no, I know nothing—oh, the new prisoner? I do know something. He'll be here soon, arriving in a prisoner truck."
"Well, that's a given," Eddie muttered under his breath.
"I guess for once, Fitz really does know nothing." Jerome chuckled.
They grabbed another box and Fitz smiled at them and then his blue eyes widened. "Oh no, Colonel, Sergeant, no—no, no," he shook his head and wrapped his short arms around the middle of the box and pulled on it.
"Fitz, what are you doing; we're trying to help you." Eddie protested.
"No, I cannot let prisoners haul firearms." He explained.
"Oh is that what these are?" the American said in fake realization, holding up one of the pistols from the box.
"Yes—no, Sergeant Miller, you pickpocket," Fitz scolded, taking the pistol from him.
"You say it like it's a bad thing." he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Fitz, why is Kintz stocking up on guns?" Jerome asked.
"Colonel Clarke, please," he begged. "Stay out of it. I know nothing."
With a roll of his eyes, the colonel shrugged and patted the jumpy Sergeant's shoulder. "That's okay, Fitz. But…I'm gonna have to report this to the Commandant. It's against the camp's rules to let prisoners handle guns, isn't it?"
"Oh, please, Colonel Clarke…" the German blew out a slow breath, his eyes glancing at the blue sky above them. "General Herrmann is visiting tonight."
"Yeah, we already know that." Eddie waved his hand dismissively.
"He's bringing an important man with him. A doctor."
"A doctor? Like, medical doctor or chemical doctor?" Jerome asked.
"Oh, Colonel Clarke, I've said too much already."
"That's alright, Fitz, we've got our ways of finding out the rest." Eddie assured him.
"Thank you, Sergeant." He said with a small, grateful smile.
"You're doing a great job helping your country lose the war, Fitz." Jerome congratulated, saluting him.
Fitz stood straighter and saluted, watching him walk away with his second in command. "Lose the war," he chuckled in amusement and then he frowned in realization. "Colonel Clarke!" But he had already disappeared into the barracks.
Jerome scratched his neck and let out a breath. "Damn, Jaffray."
First Lieutenant Mara Jaffray smiled across the table at him. She played with one of the cuffs on her military uniform jacket as he stared down at the chess board in concentration. He slowly moved his knight, eyes darting across the board, looking for a better play, but he took his hand away, finding nothing. And Mara lifted her queen up one space in return.
"Checkmate," she announced.
Jerome groaned, dragging his fingers through his hair in frustration.
"Just in time, the new prisoner's here." Eddie told them from where he stood, looking out the door of the building.
Jerome and Mara stood and filed out of the door behind Eddie, to the yard, watching the German truck pull up next to the commandant's office building. The dark-skinned soldier hopped out of the truck, a German private shoving his shoulder toward the front of the truck where Fitz stood.
As Fitz talked to the private and the driver of the truck, Jerome walked up to the prisoner. "Name, rank and serial number only, Sergeant," he said, quietly, holding onto his elbow.
"Yes, Colonel," he nodded.
"Colonel Clarke, you know the rules, you cannot talk with the new prisoners until they see the Commandant."
"I just wanted to know who won the game last night." He shrugged innocently.
Fitz muttered under his breath as he ushered the new prisoner into the commandant's office.
"What do you think, Colonel?" Eddie asked, coming up next to him.
"We'll take the usual precautions; Miller, when he showers, check his boots and clothes, make sure they were made in England. Trish, if any papers or personal belongings are brought to the barracks, check them out. Jaffray, see if he's friendly."
"Roger," Patricia nodded, heading to the barracks.
"Hello, Sergeant," Mara smiled, walking up to him as he walked toward the barracks.
"Oh, hello, Lieutenant," he saluted.
"At ease," she laughed lightly, patting his shoulder. "The only people you should salute to are the Germans, and occasionally Colonel Clarke, the senior ranking POW officer."
He nodded. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Alfred Lewis."
"Mara Jaffray," she responded, shaking his hand. "Has anyone ever called you Alfie?"
"Um, no, ma'am,"
"Well, I think it suits you."
"Really? I've always had people call me Alfred…"
"Are you nervous, Alfie?" she asked, pushing a stray strand of her black hair behind her ear.
"Only a little. I've never been captured before. Is it bad here?" he asked, turning to her quickly.
"We'll try to make your stay here as comfortable as possible," she assured him with a small smile pulling at her lips. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the gang."
"They're coming this way." Patricia announced. "He looks a little scared."
"Is Mara intimidating him?" Eddie chuckled, placing a card in the discard pile.
Jerome drew a card and looked up at him, arching an eyebrow. "Where was his uniform made?"
"It's British, alright." He replied.
"And I didn't have anything to look through. If he had anything on him, they confiscated it." Patricia spoke up, sitting next to Eddie at the table in the middle of the small room.
The door opened and in stepped Mara, followed by Alfie. He looked around the room, hands stuffed deeply in the pockets of his green jacket.
"Colonel, this is Technical Sergeant Alfred Lewis." She introduced. "Alfie, this is Sergeant Patricia Williamson, Staff Sergeant Eddie Miller, and Colonel Jerome Clarke."
Alfie lifted his hand to his green cap in a salute as Jerome stood up.
"At ease, Lewis; did you do what I told you?"
"Yes, sir, they asked me about my commanding officer, but I refused to answer any questions." He reported.
"Who's your commanding officer?" Eddie asked.
"General Allen Phillips,"
"That explains why. He's well known. We've worked with him in the past." Jerome breathed in and put a hand on Alfie's shoulder. "Now, I'm going to give you two choices; you can either escape, with our help of course, or you can stay here."
"Why would I stay? Isn't it sort of a prisoner's job to escape a POW camp, if you don't mind me asking, sir."
"Because we're a group of prisoners that are experts in getting prisoners, defectors, spies, and others out of the country and to safety. We also sabotage missions and blow things up. Whoever said POW camps are miserable?" he asked with a grin.
Alfie looked thoughtful for a moment. "Would you mind if I thought it over, sir?"
Eddie smirked, shuffling the deck of cards boredly. "Don't worry, Alf; when he tells us to start cleaning the commandant's office building, you need to start worrying and be serious."
"General Herrmann's car just pulled up. There's a civilian with him and four guards. This man is definitely important; Herrmann never travels with so many men." Patricia said, peeking through the cracked open door.
"Time to clean," Jerome smirked at Eddie. "Let's find out whatever we can about this doctor."
"You and your big mouth, Slimeball," Patricia said with a roll of her jade eyes.
"Look who's talking, Yacker." He shot back.
Mara smiled slightly, handing them cleaning supplies as they left the building. She motioned for Alfie to follow her and Jerome came up closely alongside her, hands in his jacket pockets. Patricia and Eddie went to work on sweeping the porch and Mara and Alfie started to clean the window as Jerome leaned against the wall next to the window where he could hear everything said in Kintz's office.
"Welcome, General Herrmann," Kintz said happily, his hands clasping together. "May I just say this is a great honor; we're so happy you decided to—"
"Kintz," the General cut him off loudly, his nasally voice making Jerome scrunch his face in mock pain, and Mara slapped his arm. Alfie looked between the two in curiosity and General Herrmann continued, "This is Doctor Alexandre Deforest."
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Kintz shook the man's hand. "We will do all we can to make your stay here as comfortable as possible. You know, I once knew a scientist that tried to—"
"Kintz," General Herrmann interrupted again. "Don't let anyone get to the doctor. It is important that he is guarded by your best men while he's working. His work will set us years ahead of the adversaries."
"Then who will guard the prisoners?" He turned to Deforest. "You know there's never been a successful escape, here, at Stalag 13."
"Don't let anything happen to him, Kintz." Herrmann warned. "Or I'll personally escort you to the Russian Front."
"Yes, General," he saluted.
Jerome pulled Mara away from the window by her sleeve. "We need to get to that doctor."
"I had a feeling you were going to say that." She chuckled.
"Now I know why they had that extra barracks built; it's not a barracks at all. It's a laboratory. I wonder what he's working on."
"Colonel Clarke, what is going on here?" Fitz asked, walking up next to him and Mara.
"Just tidying up the commandant's office, Fitz," he replied.
"Why?"
"We felt like it."
"You felt like it," he mumbled disbelievingly.
"Well, we're not confined to the barracks for another three hours. We could clean the whole camp by then."
"Maybe I should suggest that to the commandant." Fitz said, clicking his heels together.
"Maybe you should." Jerome crossed his arms over his chest challengingly.
"Maybe I will." And with that, Fitz marched up the front porch steps and walked through the door of the building.
"Okay," Jerome started, walking over to the others as they gathered in a semi-circle. "That's our ticket to getting to the doctor. He'll be working before dinner and after. Miller, radio London and let them know who the doctor is."
Eddie nodded and jogged off to the barracks.
"What did London have to say?" Jerome asked as Eddie fell into step with him.
"That guy's important. He specializes in nuclear projects. They want him silenced."
"That's a little dark for us," Patricia pointed out.
"Well, I can see why they'd want him dead, but you're right, Trix. This is different than our other missions."
"What do we do?" Mara asked.
"I'll figure out something." He assured them as they neared the doctor's laboratory.
Review?
"Beth, I hear you callin', but I can't come home right now. Me and the boys are playin' and we just can't find the sound." -Beth, KISS
-Rachel