Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 7

Plots and Ploys

Hegel breathed in the aroma of warm bread. The delectable smell filled his senses and a fleeting look of pleasure escaped, while he looked around the bakery and studied the regulars.

"You do a good business here, Herr Schiller," Hegel marveled.

Schiller, his eyes downcast, nodded. Hegel had been making his morning visits for several days now, and gradually becoming part of the normal morning clientele. His relaxed air and pleasant smile was putting the townspeople at ease.

"Danke, Herr Major." Looking over at an empty corner of his store, Schiller moved toward it, bringing Hegel with him. "We have some very good pumpernickel today!"

Hegel picked up a loaf as if examining it and lowering his voice, asked, "What have you learned?"

There was a slight pause, followed with a hesitant answer. "There are mumblings of a…secret ball bearing factory north of town." Schiller shrugged, despondently, "But I imagine you know about that."

Hegel raised an eyebrow. So there is a leak from Stalag 13. That realization excited him, although he warned himself it still didn't mean it was the American Colonel. "Who's asking?"

Schiller cringed inside as he tried to avoid giving a direct answer. "It was just random comments." He waited, hoping that would be enough.

The Gestapo Major stared tight lipped, his eyes flashing fire, as he waited for the baker to go on.

Schiller continued, with dread, "It was just idle gossip. Someone mentioned they heard a rumor and another said they had, too. But no one seemed to know exactly where the factory was supposed to be located," Schiller stalled. "They were just more or less asking if anyone else had heard anything."

Still no names were given.

"Who?" Hegel persisted; his tone of voice demanded an answer.

Schiller postponed answering as the faces of his sons appeared before him. They were good sons, and he would do what he could to protect them. Reaching for the loaf of bread he remarked, so as to be heard by his other customers, "I'll wrap this up for you, Herr Major." Reluctantly, he again lowered his voice, surrendering to the evitable, and whispered, "Gustoff. Gustoff Bader and …"

"Gustoff Bader? The old man, Gustoff Bader?" Hegel asked, surprised.

"Ja," Schiller answered abruptly. He was glad to be interrupted, before he had time to give the second name. Turning, he took the bread to wrap it, hoping to leave his shame behind him with the Gestapo Major. It was the life of one old man…in exchange for the lives of his sons. Certainly no one would blame him for that! One life that was all but spent, in exchange for his sons, who had their whole lives ahead of them, surely he could be forgiven for making this…bargain with the devil.

Hegel was deep in thought, replaying the interrogation of Herr Bader. It was beginning to dawn on him that…he had been duped! The old man he had questioned, the one whose mind was apparently gone, had performed masterfully. Hegel shook his head at his own gullibility. He would make up for misjudging the old codger…later. First, though, he would follow up on Hochstetter's premise. The magnitude of such a discovery, if it turned out to be true, was beyond belief. His plan to use Schiller to gather information was working. What could a plant inside of Stalag 13 find out? Picking up a bread roll, he tore a hunk off and stuffed it in his mouth, smiling.

An elderly lady, bustling by, mistook Hegel's smile of conquest for a greeting and smiled in return. "Guten tag, Herr Major. I'm so glad to see you here with us of a morning. It makes me feel so safe."

"Guten morgen, gnadige Frau," Hegel practically sang, as he clicked his heals and bowed, appearing quite the dashing figure in his black Gestapo uniform. "It's a lovely day isn't it?" High on the knowledge of his latest discovery, he exuded charm. Then, not waiting for an answer, he stepped to the counter and took the bread Schiller had wrapped for him.

"Add it to my account. I'll settle up at the end of the week." Nodding his "Good Days" to the other clientele, he headed for the door, narrowly missing the youth rushing past him.

The boy did not stop to offer an apology and Hegel decided not to pursue the lack of respect. Now was not the time to deal with youthful exuberance. The mood of his presence among the townspeople was being set. He was being accepted by them and the atmosphere around him was beginning to feel relaxed. Continuing on, he walked out onto the sidewalk, handed the bread to his driver, and stepped into the open door of his waiting staff car.

The automobile had barely pulled away from the curb, when the young man, who stood staring at the disappearing vehicle, was quickly startled from his trance.

"Morgan, you're late!" Schiller called out.

Morgan spun around.

"Get an apron on and help me with these customers!"

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"…feizehn, vierzehn, funfzehn." Schultz looked with satisfaction at Hogan as he turned to meet the Kommandant.

"Reepooort!" Klink wrestled his hand around the end of the swagger stick that was tucked neatly under his arm.

"All present and accounted for, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz announced, proudly.

Klink scowled and looked the line of men up and down beginning and ending with…Hogan.

"Colonel Hogan…"

Hogan, who had been scanning the surrounding barracks and watching his men shivering in the cold, snapped his attention back to Klink.

"…it has come to my attention that there has been some pilfering of firewood from the camp woodpile."

Hogan straightened and crossed his arms in front of him. "Well, I hope you're not accusing us! It's probably your men. Those increased patrols you placed inside of the camp after Hochstetter's last visit make for a lot of cold guards!"

"My guards do not take things without orders!" Klink bellowed.

"Oh, yeah, well ask them what happened to that last batch of blankets the Red Cross sent us!"

A low rumbling of agreement issued from Hogan's men.

"Silence!" Klink glared at the line of POW's. "If I hear of any more wood disappearing, your men will be out chopping more wood, and keeping the fires going in the guards huts!"

More grumbling began to flow from the POW's but was quickly cut off with a "Disisssmissssed," as Klink proceeded to the next barracks to deliver his ultimatum.

"'E has some nerve!" Newkirk complained, as he broke out of rank and turned to the other men. "Sittin' in his' nice warm quarters, telling us to leave his bleedin' wood alone!"

"I agree with Newkirk, Colonel!" Carter said, stepping up from behind. "It's been really cold lately."

Kinch took a step forward placing himself between the disgruntled men and his CO. "Do you want me to tell the men to stop, Colonel?"

Hogan spun around from the steady gaze he had been following Klink with and looked Kinch dead on.

"No! If Klink wants us to cut more wood, we'll cut more wood."

"I am not filling the guard's stoves with wood!" Louis proclaimed, crossing his arms in defiance.

"Yes, you are! If we have to stoke stoves to keep warm…we'll stoke stoves," Hogan stubbornly proclaimed. "Of course, where the smoke from those stoves goes…is not our problem!" Hogan announced with the slightest hint of a devilish smile.

The spark of derision caught like kindling, and his men were soon in agreement and planning ways to stop up a flue, as they headed back inside.

Hogan grabbed his cup from the table and walked to the coffee pot.

"Colonel, may I have a word with you?" Kinch asked as he closed the barrack door.

"Sure, Kinch," Hogan answered. Kinch picked up his cup and held it out. Hogan filled it, and then setting the pot down, nodded toward his door, "Come into my office."

Hogan stepped inside, "I take it you disagree with my decision out there." Hogan took a sip of his coffee as he closed his door.

"What...oh…no, sir, it's not that!" Kinch quickly answered. "No, I was wondering," Kinch fumbled, "about…why…I mean sending the Underground to…" Kinch looked up troubled. He didn't like questioning his commanding officer, but this had been eating at him since last night. "Well, sir, I thought you were suspicious of Hochstetter's information."

Hogan nodded, "So, why didn't I tell Tiger? Is that what you want to know?"

"Yes, sir," Kinch nodded.

Hogan walked to his desk and sat down while motioning for Kinch to take a seat on his lower bunk. Taking one more, thoughtful sip of coffee he answered. "If I had told her I thought this might be a Hochstetter trap, she…um…her unit…wouldn't be looking for random bits of information that could be pieced together later, they would be trying to fit their information together as they searched, which could lead to rash acts resulting in mistakes being made. If Hochstetter is planning something, I don't want to give him any help."

Kinch looked at the floor. "So you're telling me, it's the burden of command to know the whole story." Looking up he studied Hogan's face.

Hogan smiled, ruefully, "We get to do all the worrying. They get to blindly follow orders, and blame us if anything goes wrong."

Grimacing, Kinch shook his head "I'm sorry I asked!"

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Hochstetter walked the perimeter of the old warehouse. It took very little to make the, once deserted building look like a hotbed of activity. A few trucks full of empty boxes moving in and out. Troops discreetly stationed around the outside, a couple of well placed check points along the roads and…instant secret factory. But the picture he was seeing in his mind, as he gazed around, was not the well laid plan before him. It was the smoldering debris of the munitions factory. Its destruction had been a slap in his face.

His melancholy mood was disrupted as a car rolled up the narrow road behind him. Hochstetter spun around to see who it was, and a questioning frown appeared on his face.

"Major Hegel, what are you doing out here?" Hochstetter asked meeting Hegel as he exited the car.

"I'm giving credence to this secret factory of yours. If you want its existence to leak out, you have to have some important traffic coming and going." Hegel smiled. "A little honey to draw the bees!"

Hochstetter nodded, tugging at his gloves and nervously flexing his fists as the leather crackled and squeaked. He looked around. This time the scene registered and he was satisfied with what he saw. If he didn't know better, he himself might think there was a factory here.

"Ja, the workers from the munitions plant have been notified to report to Gestapo headquarters for reassignment. That should clinch the rumors we have started."

Hegel shook his head, "Hmm… Ja… maybe."

"What?" Hochstetter questioned. "You don't sound convinced."

"No," Hegel turned looking the area over. "You have probably done enough…"

"But?" Hochstetter prodded.

"But…if you really think Hogan is involved…why not make it easier on him? Why not pull some of the guards from Stalag 13 on the pretense of helping with nighttime security."

Hochstetter stared at Hegel. "Yes," A smile began to curl his lips as he cackled, "That may not be a bad idea. I'll stop at Stalag 13 and order Klink to give me some of his guards." Hochstetter turned and looked at Hegel. "You know, I like how you think."

Hegel smiled. Hochstetter had no idea what was really going on in Hegel's mind. If this man has been clever enough to operate under all of our noses for this length of time, I would be very disappointed if pulling troops out of Stalag 13 didn't send up some flags. This was one trap Hegel wanted to see fail. He would trap the American Colonel in his own way and for his own advantage.

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