Prisoners of Honor
by 80sarcades
Author's note: AU fiction. What would have happened if Hogan and his men were captured and the operation blown?
From a military aspect, we all know that the Colonel had some kind of escape plan in place if things went wrong (thankfully, for a TV series, it never did:-). But what if everything went wrong in one night with no hope of escape? This isn't a 'Hogan and his men are captured and have to provide diamonds plot', this is the worst case scenario…with a twist at the end. NO torture scenes depicted, other than implied.
Personally, I enjoy the humorous angle of HH but had to write this one; if this story isn't your cup of tea I invite you to read another story I just posted titled Where is Colonel Hogan? Otherwise, enjoy this story; don't forget to read and review!
Chapter 1: A Bad Feeling
Something was wrong.
Hogan couldn't shake the bad feeling away even as he briefed his men on the upcoming mission. If it were his choice, he wouldn't do it; however, orders were orders. That still applied even if you were running an underground operation underneath a POW camp in the middle of Germany.
An agent in the OKW had alerted his handlers in London that a research facility near Stalag 13 would be receiving a major shipment of heavy water. Hogan himself had no idea what the stuff was - something to do with nuclear experiments, whatever those were - but for whatever reason London was adamant that the shipment be destroyed. The sooner, the better.
The message had also said that the trucks carrying the water would arrive at the facility sometime around 2100 that night. Due to the nature of the shipment, it would also be heavily guarded during transport so intercepting it on the road was out. That left the facility itself, which was only slightly less dangerous to infiltrate due to guard posts and controls.
Given the time frame and distance - the target was five miles away - Hogan knew that he and his men could complete the operation and still have time to return to camp barring any complications They also, thanks to reconnaissance by the local underground, had a general plan of the facility and knew where the water would likely be stored. Best of all, they would be able to cause havoc at the research facility itself. Until recently the nearly deserted buildings had been lightly guarded by second-line troops and not worth the effort to destroy due to the other plentiful targets in the area. It was still unclear what actually went on behind those walls, but the threat it now represented to the Allied cause would soon be extinguished.
Timing, of course, was key to the plan. Once at the facility, the Germans would believe that the special shipment was safe and under guard so their alert times would be off. Information about the patrols and defenses were double checked, then checked again. Two escape routes back to the camp were planned and studied. The only wild card in the deck was Major Hochstetter, their neighborhood Gestapo nemesis; any hint of sabotage would send him straight to Stalag 13 to check on his 'favorite' prisoner. If they timed it right, he and his men would be back in camp posing as dutiful Luftwaffe prisoners. After all, the Colonel thought wryly, whoever heard of POW's committing sabotage? If only they knew…
Despite the contingency planning, Hogan still had a sour taste in his mouth about the whole operation. Although he was prepared to go on the mission himself, his men quickly voted him down.
"Wouldn't hear of it, Colonel," Newkirk said, shaking his head. "You're going to need all of us for this one."
LeBeau nodded in agreement. "Oui, Colonel," the little Frenchman replied. "I would not let you put yourself at risk. That is what we are all here for."
"If it shortens the war, then I'm all for it, Colonel," Kinch piped in. "It's been a while since I've gone out of camp anyway." A crooked grin crossed his dark face. "Besides, I've got the perfect camouflage; how can you deny that?"
The rest of the men laughed. Although he was the second-in-command, Sergeant Kinchloe's black skin limited the missions he could go out on. Tonight, however, would be different. The last member of the group held up an explosive charge and sorrowfully looked at it.
"It's a shame that we won't get to see my bombs go off," Sergeant Carter said sadly before smiling at the Colonel. "I really outdid myself this time, boy. When these babies go off, it'll be Wow, Zing, Zoom-"
"Carter," Newkirk said, interrupting, "you're the only one I know who gets excited about blowing things up. Regular Guy Fawkes, you are."
Carter, of course, took the insult as a compliment. "Why gee, thanks, Newkirk," he gushed. "You know, if he had one of these babies back then-"
"CARTER!" the other men yelled, almost in unison. The Sergeant stopped and blushed in embarrassment.
"Well, gee guys," he said, a sheepish look on his face, "Can't a guy have fun for a change?"
In response, Newkirk playfully punched Carter in the arm and grinned. After a moment, so did LeBeau.
"Guys…" Hogan said warningly. The other men quieted down and looked at the Senior POW. "Okay," he conceded, nodding his acceptance. "We'll do this together. Let's go over it once more…"
With their planning done, the waiting game began. As the afternoon light slowly faded into darkness, each man dealt with nervousness in different ways. LeBeau made an apple strudel for Schultz while Newkirk played solitaire with an old deck of playing cards. Kinch, of course, stayed down in the tunnels beneath Barracks Two to tinker with his radio. Carter, oddly enough, doodled chemical formulas on an old scratch paper. Meanwhile, Colonel Hogan tried to read a worn Red Cross book even as his mind raced over the night's details again and again. It would be a busy week. In addition to this, there were several other sabotage missions planned; a high-level contact was also supposed to meet with him in two days. Then again, things could be worse, he wryly thought. We could have another visit from Burkhalter's sister. Or, I could listen to Klink's love life, or lack thereof. That's reason enough to escape for good.
Eventually, the natural light was replaced by artificial ones from the guard towers. As they did every night, the guards lined the men up for roll call; satisfied with their count, they then confined the men to their barracks. In the tunnels, the men geared up in black outfits before checking their weapons and equipment one final time. Hogan and Carter then donned Luftwaffe uniforms over their outfits before the group made their way to the emergency entrance. One by one, each man quietly slipped out of the tree trunk and made their way into the woods and to the rally point.
Fortunately, a truck had been 'volunteered' from the Stalag's motor pool for the night's exercise. It wasn't long before they were positioned on a small rise overlooking the facility as they waited for the convoy to arrive. Nothing, as far as they could tell in the dim moonlight, had changed. Luckily, no dogs were in evidence; it would have made the operation much more difficult had they been there. Hogan wondered idly if there was a shortage of German Shepherds. Either that, or they were all at the Russian front.. Poor bastards, he thought.
German punctuality was with them as the convoy arrived on precisely on time. Outdoor lights flared into life as the steel drums were unloaded from the trucks by workers in grey coveralls before being taken into one of the buildings. The men carrying the barrels struggled against their heavy weight until the last one was in place and the building locked. Darkness returned to the facility as the trucks rumbled back to life and slowly filed out of the facility grounds. Oddly, two trucks stayed behind; the vehicles were parked a short distance from the front of the target building. Their drivers then jumped on one of the departing trucks and left with the rest of the convoy. Are those trucks assigned to the facility? Hogan wondered. Not that it mattered in the long run.
The plan, as everyone knew, was simple. Sneak into the building holding the drums, set the charges, and then place more explosives at various points on the way out. By the time they went off, they should be either in camp or close to it. The truck that brought them to the facility would be parked on a nearby side road in open view with certain engine parts switched for nonworking ones. It would hopefully convince the Germans that the truck had broken down close to camp and was waiting for a tow to be repaired. That, of course, was the worse case scenario; Hogan planned to have the truck back at the camp by morning if all went well.
Using hand signals in the dim light, the Colonel motioned for his men to move towards the research facility. Each of them evaded the roving patrols and were soon gathered at the south fence. Quiet work with wire cutters enabled them to move past that barrier before they sneaked to their target. Newkirk worked his silent magic with the lock on the front door before they made their way inside the building. Using their flashlights, they quickly noted the steel drums stacked in neat rows against the wall of one of the large rooms. The other windowless rooms appeared to be empty.
As they set the explosive charges, Hogan quickly noticed that something was wrong.
He bumped one of the barrels by accident. As he expected, the metal container was heavy; however, that wasn't what concerned him. The lack of sloshing water did. Curious, he undid the metal cap on top and used his flashlight to peer down into the hole to see…
…sand. Regular, ordinary, sand.
"Check your tanks," Hogan called in a quiet whisper to his men. Even before they said anything, Hogan knew the truth.
Someone had duped them.
Next: Chapter 2: Caught