Crash Landing
Note and Disclaimer: I'll be saying this every time, even in my editing stages on the stories. I don't own the characters to Hogan's Heroes. I would like to thank those who have created this series. However, the characters I have created in this series (e.g. Colonel Michalovich) belong to me, so if you want to use them in any story you wish to write, please email me with permission first. Thank you!
"Roger that, London…I read you well and clear." Colonel Robert Hogan, surveying the Earth below him, flew his plane over the final miles of the English Channel, and over France, intent to bomb the latest ammo dump that the Underground had assigned his unit to do.
Hogan clicked his radio back on after his brief message – as if to dispel the unease of having the danger of German spies listening to him – to make sure that London heard him correctly and continued his mission when he knew he was in the clear. Germany was already in sight and his target was miles away at that point – a few minutes' time – so General Milton, Hogan's superior, needed to be reassured. He stood on the other side of the radio in London, intent on listening to the man who saved his life and his men's lives so many times before.
"I can see it coming up ahead," Hogan finally said to his superior on the other end quickly. "We know the assignment and how important it is. Papa Bear, over and out."
The latest destination that needed to be surveyed and bombed – Hamburg's main ammo dump – was already marked on the map that his partner and aide from London, Lieutenant Reginald Douglas of the R.A.F., held behind him. The Lieutenant himself was also watching the Allied planes behind them, a formation of four planes guarding their commanding officer's tail, and sighed with boredom as he, too, looked below at the same landscape he had been seeing for many missions.
"How long is it until we reach the ammo dump?" Hogan asked the aide, his eyes kept strictly on the scene before him and sometimes behind them. He didn't even look back at Douglas, especially after his radio call to London.
Douglas sighed again, this time in frustration and not boredom. This must be the millionth time he's asked me that in the last few minutes, he thought. Hell, he's tryin' to think about something else other than his demandin' lady so that he can concentrate. Damn, that bleedin' woman could change her mind anytime and swing her moods madly. It'll drive anyone bloody crazy. I can understand it.
Hogan heard Douglas ruffle open the map open again, checking the coordinates and forgetting about the "crazy woman" that visited his commanding officer for a while when they were still stationed in London.
"We're 'bout four miles from Hamburg now, Colonel Hogan," the native Briton answered. "We need to ready the bombs."
"Steady them then," Hogan replied, adjusting his goggles again, keeping a hand on the controls. "The Underground wants this one done today before the Germans send some of it to the Front Lines tonight." He paused. "I don't think the Eastern Front wouldn't need it, though."
"Too cold there, Sir," Douglas shook his head at the thought of the cold Front Lines, readying to release their deadly weapons. "Russians have already thawed from the winter, so they say. Thank God for them it's June and not the dead of winter anymore, although, and excuse me for this, Sir, but they could all share their secrets in keeping warm. Jolly 'ld England is even cold as bleedin' hell."
"Perhaps it's the vodka?" Hogan suggested with a laugh, veering his craft more to the left as he looked down his window quickly. "They drink so much, always are numb, and never share." He laughed again, picking up his radio. "This is Colonel Hogan. The target is within sight. Man your stations. I repeat, man your stations. The target is in sight."
After reassurances were said over the radio from the other pilots one by one, Hogan smiled, not only for his men, but also for another mission well done.
"Drop them, Douglas," Hogan then said, sighing, seeing the ammo dump below them. He, too, was bored somewhat and wished for the mission to be done. He was also thinking more of a hot shower at the new base in Southampton than anything else at the moment and could not wait until he landed back in England.
Much as I love these missions, girls and showers need to be part of some bargain here. Even Colonel Michalovich can be welcomed, if she would shut her mouth and stop the talk about death and war. It's too morbid. He would never think of his partner by her first name anymore. She was more of a colleague in war than a partner.
The whiz of the bombs, when released by Douglas and the other men, satisfied Hogan, even to distract him, once more, from the last events on his last night in London before transferring. A perfect set of shots, which was indicated through the explosions that his company made, had Hogan laughing.
"Let's head back to base, Douglas," was what Douglas heard as Hogan steered from the site and back towards France and the Channel and then, to England. "General Milton will be pleased with today's events. We just saved some men some trouble. Gotta thank the Underground for finding this."
"Yes, Sir," the aide answered, smiling too. "It was a good job we did, Sir."
It's been a good day indeed, Douglas then thought. My little lady wife will be there when I get back. And I bet the Colonel would like someone to talk to as well.