Chapter 3:
The weather in London was mucky and grim. It had been raining for the past three days, and today was especially bad. There were severe thunderstorms booming across the entire city.
In a psychiatric hospital, Colonel Robert Hogan was sitting in a chair in his room reading a book as he listened to the rain and thunder. He was wearing brown pants, brown shoes, and a blue striped button up shirt. He looked up, as soon as he heard the door click and open. His doctor, Dr. Walter Andrews, walked in smiling and carrying a clipboard.
The man was a tad older than Hogan. Around mid 40s to early 50s. He had grayish brown hair, a mustache that matched, and grayish blue eyes.
"Well, Robert; how are you feeling, today?" Dr. Andrews asked friendly. He had a thick British accent.
Hogan smiled and sighed.
"I'm alright...content, actually," The American officer said, as he put his book in his lap gently.
"You've improved a lot in six months. If you keep it up, I'll discharge you in about another week. I heard General Berkman needs some help in Headquarters," The doctor said.
"It would be a nice change in scenery from this room I'm cooped up in." Hogan chuckled.
"You would say that, yes."
Hogan's smile turned into a sad one, and he turned his head to the window, then sighed.
"You alright, Robert?" Andrews asked worried.
Hogan nodded softly.
"I'm alright, Doctor...I just miss a few people is all," Hogan said.
"Your men back in Germany," He said, knowing the answer already.
The American nodded sadly.
Andrews closed the door and walked over to Hogan. He sat down on Hogan's bed and faced his patient.
"I'm sure they miss you, too, just as much...if not, more." Andrews began.
"I'm worried about them. Are they safe? Are they hurt? Is Hochstetter leaving them be...I don't have answers to any of these questions, Doctor," Hogan said worried.
"I'm sure your men are just fine. By what you've said about them, they sound like a good group of smart guys."
Hogan could not help but smile.
"They are. They're loyal, nice to everyone, and clever...the best commanding team I've ever had," Hogan said, as he reminisced the many happy memories he had with his men before he got sick. He sighed again. "Is it wrong for me to feel like I failed them?"
"You didn't fail them, Robert. It's not your fault for growing ill. All men have breaking points, and you just happened to hit yours."
"I know...I just feel like I could have done something to stop it before it had a chance to get worse."
"There was nothing you could do to stop it, Robert. The minute it happened, there was no chance of stopping it. Neither you nor your men could have done anything different to keep it from happening."
"You sure, Doctor?"
"Positive. The only thing that could help you was specialized medical care, which could not be given to you anywhere in Germany."
"I think it was Hadamar where Klink was sending me...I could be wrong, though. I was in and out of it."
"Nasty place, it is."
"Doctor...do you think I'll see my men again?"
"I wouldn't shut the thought out of mind. I think if your men respect you and care for you as much as they do, they'll do everything they can to see you again."
Hogan smiled at his doctor.
"Thanks," Hogan said sincerely.
Andrews smirked.
"No need to thank me, Robert. I'm simply doing my job as your therapist."
Hogan nodded.
"Well, I've got a few other patients I need to check in with. I'll leave you be to read your book now," Andrews said.
"See you later, Doctor." Hogan replied.
Andrews stood up and walked out of his patient's room.
Alone again, the American picked up his book and began reading again, when his thoughts started to wander and distract him. He could not stop thinking about his men: Carter, LeBeau, Kinch, and Newkirk. He missed LeBeau's cooking and the little Frenchman's excitement to do an assignment. He missed talking to Kinch and staying up late hours of the night waiting for the others to come back from a mission with him. Then there was Newkirk. The Englishman's sarcasm and sense of humor was something he also felt a bit empty without. Newkirk always knew how to make him laugh no matter what the situation was. And Carter, who he could not forget about. His caring attitude and naïveté was acknowledged to be absent. His demolitions expert always told him what a good job he was doing as a commanding officer and that he was the best one around. Even at times where the officer himself did not feel that was true. Hogan could not help but smile. As much as he missed them, they always brought a smile to his face and a reason for him to continue to get better again. Something was bothering him, however. He felt as if something were happening back in Germany; something that was not good for him nor his men he had left behind back in Stalag 13. He was unsure whether or not to listen to that feeling or ignore it. His gut usually did not lie to him, but with everything that had happened since Terry died, he could never be too careful. He decided to ignore it for now, but would address it later if it became an issue.
Sighing, he looked down at his book, smiled, and resumed reading in peace as he listened to the pitter patter of rain on his window and the roaring of the thunder outside.
Back in Germany, the prisoners of Stalag 13 were doing their usual activities of either socializing with others or playing sports. The opposing volleyball team that Newkirk and Carter's team would take on for the championship game were currently practicing for the upcoming match.
Kinch leaned against the barracks like Hogan had always done and watched the other prisoners. LeBeau was sitting on the bench knitting something that looked like a blanket for his bunk. Carter was making a yo-yo out of wood and string, and Newkirk was smoking a cigarette, as he rolled a soccer ball back and forth with his foot. The four had stayed up half of the night trying to think of what to do regarding Hochstetter. They had to tackle this problem carefully. Anything too big would be suspicious and anything too little would be just as bad.
"I got an idea," Newkirk said, as he took his cigarette out of his mouth. "What if we said that the Gov'nor's body was sent back to the States for burial?"
"No, the Germans may try to contact the Americans. With them not knowing what's going on over here, our cover would be blown the minute the Krauts found out that no one's body had recently been sent back to the States," Kinch replied.
"We could blow up a munitions dump to take the attention off of the Colonel," LeBeau said, as he continued focusing on his knitting.
Kinch took in a breath of air.
"If we did it, Hochstetter would grow assumptions that the Colonel had something to do with it. He would be in more trouble than he was before," the radioman answered.
"Why does this situation gotta be so bloody difficult?" Newkirk moaned, taking another drag on his cigarette.
"I say we get rid of Hochstetter," LeBeau grumbled.
"LeBeau," Kinch warned.
"What? I can't express my opinion now?!" LeBeau replied.
Kinch sighed and laid his head on the side of the barracks. His mind was vacant of any idea. He was standing in front of a brick wall and could not see the other side or what was going on. How he wished Hogan was there at the moment. He always had an idea or some clever scheme to get the guys out of whatever scrap they had gotten themselves into.
"God...if I never thought there was a tougher situation we've dealt with before, this is certainly one of them," Kinch simply said.
Carter gave a small smile and turned to look at his three best friends.
"You guys remember when we had to blow up that ball bearing plant that was so well secured? And how we all thought that it would be impossible to ever accomplish it? The Colonel told us that 'there's no mission that's impossible; you just have to find another way for it to work'," the young sergeant said, remembering his commanding officer's words of wisdom. Remembering Hogan's advice he had given him in the time frame he knew him always helped Carter get through the toughest of times. This situation was one of those times.
LeBeau nodded sadly and put his knitting down.
"Oui. The Colonel would not want us to be throwing in the towel so quickly," he said. He began thinking of Hogan's determination and strength to get through difficult situations and suddenly felt stronger.
"But what are we gonna do about it, that's the million dollar question." Newkirk asked.
They all just sat there for what felt like forever in silence. They were brainstorming ideas that would be logical and not incredulous to get Hochstetter to drop the whole thing regarding Hogan and the possibility of him still being in Germany wandering around somewhere. After a long moment of complete silence, Carter broke the silence with a suggestion.
"What if we got Barbara to help us somehow?" (1)
LeBeau gasped.
"Ma petite chérie," LeBeau said, mesmerized of his love.
"Yah had to bring her up, Andrew?!" Newkirk exclaimed.
"Sorry...I thought it was a good idea," Carter said, growing insecure.
Kinch turned to the young man, and snapped his fingers while smiling at him.
"Carter, that's an excellent idea!" He cried.
"It is?" Carter asked stunned.
"LeBeau, you said Barbara works at the Hofbrau every Thursday night?"
"Oui...she sings her angelic voice out to everyone," LeBeau said dreamily.
"Just make sure you don't send Louis. We'll get nothing done that way," Newkirk said agitated.
"Actually, you, Louis, and Carter are going to have to go out and see her," Kinch said, crossing his arms.
"Really?" Carter asked, growing excited.
"I need all three of you to go out there and bring back as much information as possible."
"Oh, boy, I can't believe I'm finally gonna meet Barbara!" Carter cheered.
"You'll love her, mon ami. She's an angel I tell you," LeBeau said, sure of himself.
Newkirk sighed.
"Don't worry, Kinch...I'll make sure we bring home what you wanna hear." The Englishman groaned, shaking his head disapprovingly.
(1) Barbara Wagner is an underground member I created and was introduced in my story "Hogan's Heroes: Finding the Silver Lining". A detailed description of her will be in the next chapter.