I do not own Hogan's Heroes.
From the episode "The Kommandant Dies at Dawn." It is recommended that you watch that episode before reading.
This story fills in the gaps of that episode, and answers the question, "What makes Klink suddenly start wearing a belt in this episode?"
So far in the episode: Hogan and his men have information to pass on to the underground. They plan to use Klink's belt for this purpose.
After designing the belt and placing the information inside, Carter carried the leather belt into Hogan's office.
"Here you go, Colonel," he said. "I've made the belt like you asked. It's one of my best leather creations yet. I stitched it with thread that I treated to make it even stronger than the last thread I used and…"
"Great, Carter," Newkirk interrupted before Carter could launch into a long soliloquy about the belt.
Colonel Hogan laid out the plan. "Now we'll just need to swap it out for Klink's old belt. Newkirk, volunteer to clean the Kommandant's quarters. Then, make the swap."
"One problem," Kinch interjected. "Klink never wears a belt. There's no reason he would start wearing one now."
"Oui, that's right, Mon Colonel," LeBeau agreed. "Klink hasn't worn a belt since the incident a couple years ago."
Carter was barely holding in his laughter. "I can't blame him. Do you remember what he looked like hanging up there? Boy, that was some view!"
Hogan brought the conversation back on track. "Then we'll just have to find a way for Klink to have no choice but to wear a belt."
The men paused, each trying to think of a plan.
"Maybe we can tell him it's a gift from us," suggested LeBeau.
"He still wouldn't wear it. Maybe we can tell him that it's made of a special kind of material," said Carter. "Maybe moose, or giraffe, or…. Whale leather!"
"You're balmy, Carter. We just need someone to order 'im to wear it," said Newkirk.
"Actually, you're all right in a way," said Hogan. "Kinch, I need a package made up. Postmark it from Berlin."
"Who is it from?" asked Kinch.
"Make the signature from a general, but make the name illegible. We'll slip it into Klink's morning mail."
The next morning…
Hogan sauntered into the Kommandantur right after roll call.
"Hello, Hilda," he called in greeting. "Is the Kommandant in?"
"Ja, but he is in a very bad mood. I don't think he wants to see you."
"Nonsense. I'm sure my presence will cheer him up." Hogan knocked on the door, opening it at the same time.
"Hogan, can't you see how busy I am," Klink groused. "What do you want?"
"Well, sir, the men were hoping you might be available to judge the finals of our crab walk competition. Schultz will be fine for the distance portion, but we need someone with artistic finesse to judge their form."
"A crab walk competition? No wonder the Allies are losing the war. We goosestep, you crab walk."
Hogan took a quick glance around the room before spotting a familiar package on Klink's desk.
"Oh, what's this?" Hogan grabbed the package like a curious child.
"Leave that alone," Klink said petulantly. "That's none of your business."
'You're right, it's probably some old regulation manual or something. I sure don't want to see it. I mean, who'd want to send you anything?"
"Enough of your insolence, Hogan!" Klink demanded. "For your information, this came from Berlin. But I'm not sure who sent it."
"Yeah, yeah, of course. Well, I'm out of here." Hogan headed towards the door.
"Wait, Hogan! You will stay and watch me open my package."
"Fine, sir. But I'd hate for you to be disappointed." Hogan slouched into a chair and pilfered a cigar.
Klink tore open the package. "A belt! Why would anyone send me a belt?"
"And not just any old belt, either!" Hogan leaned closer to the object in question. "That's made from genuine whale leather!"
"Nonsense, it's just ordinary leather. Oh, there's a letter."
The Kommandant began reading aloud. "To Colonel Klink: We are pleased to honor you with this belt, made from the finest whale leather. Wear it well, and keep it on at all times. Signed, General… General…."
"General General, huh?" Hogan twisted his face into a suitably confused expression. "You Germans sure have funny names."
"Hogan! There's just one name, but I can't make it out."
Hogan peered helpfully at the scribbled letters. "Not General Von Hommschleikoff's signature? Congratulations, sir."
"Yes, yes, I see it now. General Von Hommschleikoff." Klink snapped his head towards Hogan. "What do you mean by 'congratulations?'"
"Well, it's just a rumor I've heard. I'm sure you don't want to hear it, so I'd better get going." Hogan pushed back his chair.
"Sit down, Hogan! What did you hear? You can tell me." A devious expression came over Klink's face.
"Well, just that when a man gets a belt in the mail, it means something is about to happen to him." Hogan rocked his chair back on two legs and gazed at the ceiling. "A cow's leather belt means a secret mission, a goat's leather belt means transfer to a combat unit, and a sheep's leather belt means, well, kaput."
Klink shuddered. "But this is a whale's leather belt. What does that mean?"
"A whale's leather belt means a promotion. Of course, you have to wear it as ordered, so I guess you won't be getting one of those."
"But I will wear it as ordered. I can just see it now. General Klink!"
"It does have a nice ring to it," agreed Hogan.
"The great General Klink, leader of men. It's a beautiful picture. Don't you agree, Hogan?"
Hogan saluted and headed for the door. "I refuse to answer on the grounds that I might tell the truth."
Klink shook his fist helplessly. "Hogan!"
The slamming of the door was the only response he got.
After the episode…
"Message from the underground, Colonel!" said Kinch. "They confirm pickup."
"Excellent. Newkirk, sneak into Klink's quarters tonight and steal the belt," ordered Hogan.
"Why?" Carter wondered aloud. "Even he has to notice that it's missing."
"We can always use the leather. And this way, he'll stop thinking about making general. At least, until we need him to start again."
The next day…
The guards seemed demoralized, and Klink dispensed with any speeches about the "glorious Third Reich" at roll call.
"They are still depressed that we had to cancel the firing squad," Schultz confided. "I think the deserters have left again."
A strident call from Klink interrupted them. "Hogan! I want to see you in my office right away!"
"What is it, Kommandant?" Hogan asked, walking into the office.
"Hogan, my belt has been stolen! We have to find it!" Klink was opening drawers in his desk frantically.
"Think the belt might have curled up in there for a nap, sir?" Hogan queried sarcastically.
"Hogan, this is a serious matter! I'll search this entire camp to find it if necessary!"
"I'm surprised you want to get involved in this matter," said Hogan seriously. "Well, it's your funeral. Guess your men will get to have that firing squad after all."
"After all? But what about the belt? And my promotion?" Klink grasped at the fleeting remnants of his dream.
"Gestapo. Clearly they were jealous of your record, and tried to get you through the belt. Probably had a bug planted in it. You know how they are. Why do you think Major Feldkamp tried so hard to get rid of you?"
"Hogan, you may be onto something," mused Klink. "Obviously the letter was a phony. Yes, now that I think about it, I'm sure that that signature was forged."
"I'm not going to disagree with you there." Hogan headed for the door. "Well, all's well that ends well, right, Kommandant?"
"I suppose so," Klink said distractedly. "But do you think the leather was actually genuine?"
"I don't know, Kommandant," said Hogan. "But it'd sure be a whale of a story if it was."
THE END