Colonel Hogan stepped through the door from the Kommandant's office and, by way of the plothole created by canon's many floorplan changes, entered a large room crowded with people dressed in olive-drab, khaki, and Luftwaffe blue. The sound of conversation in several languages filled the room, punctuated by hearty laughter that could only come from Sergeant Schultz. Hogan spotted Colonel Klink and Tirathon chatting near the table of coffee and snacks and joined them.
"Everyone here?" he asked them.
"Yes, except for Sergeant Carter who is in the staff infirmary with a wrenched knee," Klink replied.
"Glomping injury?"
Klink nodded. "One of the girls in Barracks 11. She is spending the night in the cooler and has been ordered to write an essay about the experience."
"I'm surprised he was the only one. Our boys must be getting faster. Well, let's get this meeting started. We've got a lot to cover," Hogan said.
Colonel Klink turned to the room and proclaimed "This meeting will come to order!" A few of the closer people stopped talking for a moment, then returned to their conversations. Klink turned to Hogan with a plaintive look.
"You heard the Kommandant. Pipe down, everyone!" Hogan bellowed. Conversations stopped mid-sentence.
"Thank you, Colonel Hogan," Klink said. He looked around the now-quiet room, unfolded several typewritten pages of notes, and cleared his throat. "First, I have some announcements. Staff members who still have not been assigned quarters should speak with Fraulein Helga. Those who cannot find their quarters should speak to Coordinator Tirathon, who informs me that there have been some difficulties with unstable plotholes. Second, everyone who picked Sergeant Carter in the glomping pool should speak with Corporal Newkirk after this meeting to collect their winnings. Finally, the problem with the laundry service has been resolved; there should be no further difficulties with excess starch." Several people around the room visibly relaxed at the last announcement. Klink accepted a glass of water from Sergeant Schultz and sipped it before he continued.
"Now there is the matter of course assignments. We still need instructors for "That's No Tiger! Armored Fighting Vehicles and You" and "Secret Weapons Programs". If you are able to teach either class, please see Colonel Hogan or me after the meeting. Also, Hans Teppel will be delayed several days, so "Intelligence Agencies of the World" and "Deus Ex Machina" will be exchanged on the class schedule with "Principles of Subterranean Construction" and "The Geneva Convention: What's in it for You?" Other than those matters, the schedule is now set for the first two months of the session. Tomorrow..." Klink was abruptly cut off by a loud outburst from a back corner of the room.
"What is this woman doing here?"
"Wolfie, dahling, I just adore short men. And besides, we will be teaching classes together. We should get to know each other better."
"Teaching ... classes ...together?" Hochstetter's voice held an edge of panic.
"All right, you two," Hogan interrupted before things got out of hand, or at least any further out of hand. "Major Hochstetter, get control of yourself. Marya, the rules against glomping apply to the staff as well as the students."
"But you know how much I love men in uniform," Marya began. Hogan cut her off again.
"Love him on your own time, not in my staff meeting." Hogan visibly suppressed his irritation, and Klink continued.
"Someone passed me a note." Klink read it, and fixed a British officer by the snack table with a piercing glare. "With regard to your request, Colonel Crittendon, thank you for offering, but although Sergeant Carter has a wrenched knee, you will not be teaching his explosives class."
Somewhere in the back, someone muttered "Because we need the camp where it is." Klink shifted the eagle gaze to Newkirk. After a moment of glaring at an innocently smiling Newkirk, Klink turned the meeting over to Hogan.
"The only announcement I have for today is now that the students have settled in, the guards will be releasing the minis from their pen. As most of you probably know, a mini appears when a fan writer misspells one of our names. For some reason, ours show up as hats. Be particularly careful around Shulz, Shultz, and the innumerable misspellings of Corporal Langenscheidt. I don't want to hear of anyone in the infirmary because they took a header over a walking helmet. If nobody else has anything to add," Hogan waited a moment, looking around the room but conspicuously overlooking Crittendon and Hochstetter, "then we're through. Today, while the students are still somewhat stunned by what they've been through, is the last peaceful day we're going to have for a while. Chef LeBeau's people have a feast waiting for us in the staff dining room. Let's enjoy it while it lasts. This meeting is dismissed."