Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Between The Lines

By Marty Breedlove

Chapter One

"Colonel, there's a woman selling milk out in the compound."

"A woman?"

"Yes, sir. Schultz let her in. Better hurry if you want any!" The face disappeared and was soon followed by the slamming of the barracks door.

I'd better get up and see what's going on. Yawning, Hogan threw the blanket back and slid his legs over the edge of the bunk with a shiver. He'd been having trouble getting and staying warm since the accident… or at least since what Klink thought was an accident.

Colonel Robert Hogan was the American senior prisoner of war officer at Luft Stalag 13, a location from which he also operated a successful rescue and sabotage operation behind enemy lines, and all without his German captors' knowledge. After being wounded on a mission, Hogan's men had conned their Kommandant, Oberst Klink, into believing the tower guards accidentally wounded the Colonel while firing warning shots into a darkened compound. Hogan had lost a significant amount of blood and was still not completely recovered. His descent from the upper bunk to the floor took concentrated effort.

Selling milk in a POW camp? That's not something you see every day. Why would a farmer bring milk here to sell?

Grabbing his jacket, he stopped by the stove in the common room, filled his mug with hot coffee and made his way to the barracks window. Sure enough, there was a woman by the front gate with a cart. His men looked like bees at a hive. I don't know how good the milk is, but… Hogan smiled …she's going to sell out.

The thought of cold milk brought on another shiver and he wondered if he would ever feel warm again. His eyes drifted back to the "milk maid". Draining his cup of the last of the warm coffee, he headed for the door. Cold milk held no allure for him, but the view—well, that was worth a closer look.

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It turned out the milk maid brought more than milk. She also delivered a request for a meeting from someone named 'Robinson Crusoe', the code name for commandos. The message had not been well-received by the Colonel. His gut instinct yelled "trap!", but after voicing his concern to his men, and their subsequent no vote, he decided to go anyway.

"We'll make contact at ten o'clock tonight." 1

Kinch straightened. "Hey, I demand a recount!"

"Write to your Congressman," Hogan answered as he walked away.

Carter frowned and, looking at his buddies, began to recount their overturned "no" votes. "One…two…three…"

"Forget it!" Newkirk griped.

LeBeau turned and watched their "milk-maid" leaving. "Le Colonel won't chance turning his back on someone who needs help."

"Well, let him bloody well go alone!"

"You don't mean that!" Carter accused.

Newkirk kicked at the ground and shook his head. "No. I wouldn't want to leave anybody stranded in Germany."

Kinch shrugged and regaining his momentarily lost composure, again rallied to support his CO. "Like the Colonel says 'We've got pay piling up back home.' It's only right that we earn it."

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-Later that day-

Hogan looked at his watch. "It is now 1300. We'll head out at 2130 minus 10."

A sudden knock at the door brought the conversation to a halt. Five heads turned as the Colonel's door opened and Schultz stuck his head in.

"I thought I'd find you in here." Pushing the door open wider, Schultz entered Hogan's room. "Sorry to interrupt, Colonel Hogan, but the Kommandant wants to see you."

"What does he want?" Hogan's eyes widened and he looked at his watch again. "It's not time for my daily torture session."

Grimacing, he thought of the violin solos he was forced to sit through daily. Hogan had won that favor following a chess match in which he had expounded on Klink's brilliance. Klink in return, shared his observation that Hogan spent a lot of time pacing and could improve on his own chess game if he would learn how to relax. The violin sessions were Klink's way of teaching Hogan to play a better game of chess. 2

All too aware of Klink's prowess with the violin, Schultz, too, made a face. "I'm glad it's you and not me. But, if it helps, I don't think the Kommandant wants to see you about that. He's still in his office. It's probably about camp business."

Sighing, Hogan looked at his men. "I'd better go see what he wants. We're done here anyway. We'll dress after final roll call."

Schultz frowned, "Dress after roll call? Don't you mean undress? 'Lights out' will follow thirty minutes after that."

"Right Schultzie," Newkirk agreed. "We knew what the Colonel meant."

Not convinced there wasn't some monkey business going on, Schultz panicked. "Wh…wh…why did you have to tell them to…" Schultz caught the glint in Hogan's eye and it stopped him cold. "Never mind, I don't want to know! Come, Colonel Hogan, before you get me into trouble."

"Oui, better not keep the Kommandant waiting," LeBeau laughed.

"I wasn't referring to the Kommandant," Schultz muttered, looking at them all suspiciously. With a shake of his head, he fell in behind Hogan and disappeared out the door.

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"Your men are pilfering firewood and I won't stand for it!"

Klink pounded his fist on the desk and glared up at Hogan.

It had been an extremely cold winter and if it wasn't for the extra firewood his men had been...acquiring...they would freeze.

Fighting another chill, Hogan shivered, trying to camouflage it with a shrug. "I still say, it's your own guards. They're the ones with access to the firewood. My men would be caught before they could carry it back across the compound to their barracks! Why don't you just have your men go out and cut some more. It's not like their isn't a whole forest of wood out there!"

Despite Klink's anger, Hogan's disguised tremor did not go unnoticed. The Kommandant was keenly observant—when he wanted to be. His discreet skills of observation had helped him to survive one war and, with a little luck, he hoped they would help him to survive this one.

"Colonel Hogan, I saw… that is… I know you…"

Frowning, Hogan realized he had been caught. He straightened and clenched his teeth against any concession Klink might offer for his benefit.

Seeing the familiar stoic stance, Klink veered away from the allowance he was about to make and instead demanded, "My men have prisoners to guard. It will be your men out there getting frostbite while chopping more wood. I don't know how your men are doing it, but I want it stopped!"

Once again on comfortable ground and looking out for the welfare of his men, Hogan countered with a stalemate, "Just as I want the pilfering from our Red Cross packages stopped!"

Klink looked down at his desk in frustration, then picked up his pencil and snorted, "You heard me, Colonel Hogan. That is all! I'll see you in my quarters at seven. You're dismissed."

Hogan frowned at the reminder of the seven o'clock violin concerto. Immediately his mind switched gears, and he again tried to think of a way out of this daily routine. Klink had been rock solid in keeping this appointment and it was driving Hogan up the wall. Still deep in thought, Hogan turned to leave.

"Colonel Hogan."

Opening the door, Hogan stopped and looked back.

"You didn't salute," Klink announced, waiting for the obligatory courtesy.

The muscles in Hogan's jaw hardened as he simultaneously flipped off a tense salute and disappeared, leaving Klink to salute a closed door.

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-Meanwhile-

Myra entered Hegel's office still wearing the common clothes of a farm girl.

"Well, I can't say your taste in clothes is improving, my dear," Hegel smirked, leaning back in his chair.

Myra laughed and teased. "I brought you some milk."

"I hope you brought me more than that." Hegel straightened in his seat; his eyes searched the beautiful face in front of him for an answer. "Did they take the bait?"

Smiling coyly, Myra nodded, "I'm sure they will be there."

Pulling off the heavy wool shawl resting on her shoulders, she continued. "They couldn't risk giving me an answer. That big sergeant kept hanging around drooling over me. But I saw the prisoners gather together and disappear around the side of the barracks. I'm sure Colonel Hogan got the message."

Hegel smiled. "Now the only question is did you look helpless enough to be trusted?"

"They'll be there." Myra dropped the shawl in a nearby chair and walked around the desk. Hegel turned his chair to meet her and standing, pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss.

Pulling back from his embrace she asked, "Have you picked the guards that will go with me tonight?"

"Don't worry my dear. You will be well protected. There will be a sniper behind you in the woods. If anything goes wrong just step away. Otherwise, when you are ready, raise your left hand and he will join you. If we do this right, not a shot will be fired."

Myra smiled, and laying her head on Hegel's shoulder, whispered, "I trust you."

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"Where's Colonel Hogan?" Louis asked, entering the changing area accompanied by the smell of fresh coffee.

Drawn to the aroma, Newkirk placed his cigarette between his lips and grabbed a cup. "He's still getting serenaded by Klink."

"He's keeping him kind of late tonight, isn't he?" Carter asked, as he checked his watch, drawing it up next to his ear.

"The Colonel's on his way across the compound," Kinch announced, as he approached the group. "Since I won't be out there with you remember to keep an eye on him tonight. He's still not at a hundred percent."

Newkirk's voice took on a serious tone. "Don't worry, mate. I won't take my eyes off him."

"Oui, neither will I," LeBeau agreed.

Hearing the concern being shared, Carter had an idea. "Heck, why don't we just tell him to stay here? We can handle this."

Kinch looked at Carter and blinked. "You think it would be that easy, do you?

"Sure. We could just say…"

"Shhh, Carter, here he comes." Kinch lowered his voice and looked Carter in the eye. "Just don't say anything."

Hogan rounded the corner. "Is everybody ready?"

Kinch nodded. "Almost, I'll go check the area around the emergency exit while you guys finish up."

Newkirk slipped his gun into his belt. "Ole Klink kept you late tonight."

"Don't remind me," Hogan grumbled as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Yeah, he doesn't usually keep you past 'lights out'," Carter agreed.

"Here, Colonel, have some coffee. Maybe it will help you forget." LeBeau coyly held out the steaming mug, hoping he could get some extra warmth into the Colonel before they went out.

"Mmm, thanks Louis." Grateful for the warmth, Hogan sent the liquid streaming down his throat.

"You chaps ready?" Newkirk asked, nodding his head toward the exit. He was hoping to get the others alone so they could talk about how best to keep the Colonel from doing more than he should tonight. "We'll meet you at the exit, Colonel."

"I'll be right behind you," Hogan answered as the three disappeared. Setting his cup aside, he pulled on his black shirt and rubbed his arms, trying to generate some heat. I can't risk being distracted by the cold. Looking through the clothes rack he pulled out a black jacket and slipped it on.

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Getting out of camp had been easy. Even with Schultz practically asleep on top of the tunnel exit. The weather, too, was giving them a break. The cloud cover was keeping it warmer than it had been the past few nights.

Hogan had ordered his men to give him a head start, now, making his way through the woods, he began to relax thinking hewas just being paranoid. Everything would be fine.

"Colonel Hogan."

Hogan turned in the direction of the voice and called out in a low voice, "Myra?" Seeing their Milk Maid friend, he crossed the road, stopping in front of the embankment on which she was standing.

"You came alone?"

"Yeah, where's Robinson Crusoe?"

"Oh, you'll meet him in good time. But first there are certain precautions we must take."

Hogan reached down to steady himself as he climbed up the embankment and when he looked up he was staring into the muzzle of a loaded gun.

"You are under arrest, Gestapo." Myra looked into her prisoner's face as her words registered. It was a handsome face and for a moment her sneer softened. However, it quickly returned at the sound of Hogan's voice. It did not contain the fear she had expected.

"Some precaution!" Hogan answered, disgusted with himself. This was twice in a row he'd misjudged a situation. He was just getting over his last near miss and now he was in another mess. His eyes focused on the gun calculating his chances if he rushed her? At this range—not good.

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"How could he bleedin' disappear so fast?"

"We were supposed to wait fifteen minutes. He's not going to be happy that we disobeyed his orders," Carter complained.

"We had to, Carter. You heard Kinch. He said to keep an eye on him," LeBeau answered as he scanned the woods. "Hey, there's le Colonel."

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Following orders, Hogan turned to lead Myra down the road hoping to be gone before his men arrived. Suddenly, he felt a gun press into his back and he soon saw why. His men had just walked into the clearing across the road. Hogan's eyes hardened, they could not have waited fifteen minutes.

"You did not come alone."

"I'm a terrible liar." And my men are deaf.

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-Fifteen minutes later at the back of a German truck-

"You three in first." Myra continued giving orders while keeping her gun buried in Hogan's back.

Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau climbed in the truck and were immediately ushered forward by one of the two guards waiting for them.

"All right, Colonel Hogan, now you."

Hogan turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse behind him and felt the gun press harder into his back as Myra's hand squeezed tighter onto the trigger. Raising his hands in surrender he stepped toward the truck.

"Don't get trigger-happy, I'm going."

Barely inside the truck, the second guard grabbed him by his still healing left arm and shoved him to his knees.

"Ugh," Hogan groaned, and looked over at his men. They were lined up against the side of the truck, sitting on their hands. The other guard held his rifle on them. Any movement and…

"Lie face down, Colonel," Myra ordered. "And put your hands on the back of your head."

"Is this really necessary? You've got us."

"Do it, or I'll shoot one of your men."

"All right, all right. I'm down." Hogan answered, stretching out on the cold truck bed.

"I said hands behind your head!"

Stifling another groan, Hogan slowly eased his left arm into position, clasping his fingers together on the back of his head. The tip of a rifle came to rest just below them, at the base of his skull. He closed his eyes in anticipation.

"Now, don't move and you and your men will stay alive."

Momentarily relieved, Hogan exhaled before again tensing. Yeah—but for how long?

1 This story is written around the episode "Diamonds In The Rough"

2 Reference my earlier story "Christmas Morning"