My entry to the Hogan's Heroes Big Bang challenge.

Hogan has arrived to Stalag 13 and although he is the officer in charge of the stalag's POW population, that doesn't mean quite as much to every POW as he might expect. Please enjoy, and review if you like it, please. All chapter will be posted tonight, in response to the challenge.

Stalag 13, Germany

The wind swept through the barracks buildings in short gusts. Various POWs wandering the compound would huddle in whatever clothing they had, cursing against the bitter cold. Even the guards shivered in their layers of wool.

Hogan stood against the barracks' wall and watched the compound. He was beginning to feel out the various men of Barracks Two, taking their measure and finding that they were a great deal more than most officers would have assumed. Sergeant Kinchloe was the obvious surprise. The quiet sergeant commanded a great deal of respect among the other prisoners, completely atypical with mixed race groups in any military. Certainly there were a few men who showed contempt but for the most part, the POWs seemed to be relaxed about all of it.

A loud spate of French curses made him glance over to see the tiny LeBeau stomping away from a group of Americans who had been teasing him. It sounded like light-hearted America versus France arguing, and Hogan didn't feel any need to get involved.

His eyes came to rest on the troublesome English corporal and he straightened up slightly as he saw some sort of confrontation going on with one of the nastier guards. Trying to pacify the guard didn't seem to be working for Newkirk and he almost cringed at a louder shout. Hogan watched his head tilt down as he apparently wheedled his way out of whatever issue the guard had. The smaller corporal looked as if he were on the verge of fleeing at any moment, but probably was afraid of the consequences of running in the compound.

Hogan checked the rest of the compound but no one else seemed to be interested in what was happening. While Newkirk left no doubt of his disdain for officers in general, Hogan would not allow the young man to be abused by a guard without a protest. While Kinchloe, LeBeau and Olson seemed to be made of sterner stuff, Hogan wasn't sure he would be able to count on anything from the meek? Englishman.

Before he made half a dozen steps into the compound, the guard shoved Newkirk sharply, but then turned and left without more than a parting insult. Newkirk had staggered but still bobbed his head subserviently at the German before walking backwards a few steps.

Hogan paused, relieved that at least he hadn't been harmed. Then his gaze sharpened. Newkirk had twisted on his heel, his entire body posture changing abruptly from fearful nervousness to a cocky strut. He shook his left arm in an odd manner before flicking something into his palm from thin air. Hogan watched him examine whatever it was before tucking it into a pocket out of sight. The air of competent ease was so at odds with the body language of moments before that Hogan blinked. A pair of guards came around the end of a building into view and Newkirk shied away, instantly assuming the same mousy nervous mien all over again. He smiled and ducked his head at them, twisting to watch them go by as if one might make a grab for him at any moment.

As they passed the harmless English POW, Hogan caught the barest glimpse of Newkirk's expression. For just one instant, there was naked hatred and cunning and then it was gone just as quickly. Hogan found himself staring into intensely piercing eyes as Newkirk spotted him.

Hogan half-expected to see the return of the cringing act, but Newkirk gave him a slight nod of acknowledgment, wary but cocky. He realized the corporal had already figured out that Hogan had just seen through the little act and had decided within those fractions of a second that it didn't matter. His casual dismissal of Hogan as any threat did rankle just a little bit but the officer hide any reaction, simply returning a nod and flicking his gaze away, pretending to see nothing of note.

He needed to do some serious reevaluating. If there was one conman this good in the stalag, who knew what other talents there were to be exploited in his plans to stymie the Germans?

Newkirk was far out of sight and Hogan had wandered across over half of the compound before it occurred to him that Newkirk might just have known Hogan was watching the entire time. He stopped dead in his tracks to look behind himself but the Englishman was gone. Hogan felt slightly uneasy. After all, no conman wanted to feel as if he was being played as a mark by another.

Hogan walked through the compound slowly with Kinchloe. "So you're saying he's the one I have to win over? Why? He's a corporal. He's not even American." His eyes searched out one particular figure in blue and watched as the slender young man chatted with a group of other prisoners. "He doesn't look like he could threaten me. Heck, a strong wind could probably knock him down."

Kinchloe snorted softly. "Newkirk is tougher than he looks. Anything that knocks him over has to watch it because he'll get right back up. But it's not a physical threat, sir. He has a low opinion on officers in general and any officer who thinks he's going to run this camp and order the men around in particular."

"He's still just a corporal." Hogan was still watching the little group as they peered at Newkirk's hands and laughed. Apparently one of the guards was interested as well and slowly wandered closer.

"In a stalag, sir, rank doesn't always matter as much. Newkirk has been here longer than anyone else. And... he looks out for everyone. I don't know many guys that he hasn't gotten out of trouble with the goons." Kinch's voice got quiet. "I'm just saying, don't make him an enemy or you won't ever get things off the ground."

The English corporal was now showing some sort of cards to the guard too. "Okay, so I'll make friends." Hogan looked at Kinch closer. "Let me guess, he's saved your hide before too?"

"More than once." Kinch fidgeted nervously. "He's a good man, sir." Suddenly a little smile crossed his face. "That's LeBeau with him there now. The short Frenchman." He jerked his chin to indicate the newest man to join the group. "He's a chef, hot tempered as heck, but another good man. He'll jump up to defend his friends in a heartbeat, no matter how big the enemy is."

Hogan watched and raised an eyebrow. "You'd have to put the two of them together to make one decent sized guy, Kinch."

"Yeah well. Newkirk doesn't wear that heavy coat all the time because he's carrying a lot of natural padding. He's thin as a rail." Kinch took a breath and followed along as Hogan began walking again. "Half the time he can't eat anymore. He's so underweight, he can't stay warm for anything. Of course, God forbid someone try to help him. Touchy Englishman doesn't like to accept any help, doesn't matter how many times he's helped a guy out himself." Kinch glanced around. "LeBeau tries to keep him fed with what we can scrounge but it's just not enough. Everyone is losing weight, but.. Peter didn't have any to spare to begin with."

"I'm trying to work on the commandant about the rations already." Hogan looked at the figure again. "Maybe I can get some extra and give them to him."

"Pfft." The disparaging noise from Kinch was surprising. "Sorry, but you can't hand extra food to him. He'll just divvy it up among his friends. That's if he doesn't refuse outright, especially coming from you, sir. Nothing personal, but you are the only officer here."

"So, not only do you want me to lay low, make sure I don't offend him, try to get him better food but I've got to trick him into taking it?" Hogan shook his head. "You don't ask much."

"Don't worry, when I think of some difficult things to ask for, you'll be the first to know." Kinch grinned at the wry look. "Hey, this sort of stuff is why you get paid the big bucks."

"I think I'd rather lose a pay grade."

End Chapter 1