A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't receive any payment for this; it is truly a labor of love.
As always, when an actual scene from the episode is presented, actual dialogue from the scene is included. Cohen's thoughts, of course, are his own.
Kommandant Klink is taken hostage and Major Hochstetter must investigate! "The Missing Klink" as experienced by Cohen.
Professor Howard Cohen, known to his colleagues at the Gestapo (and almost everyone else in Germany) as Major Wolfgang Hochstetter, drove through the familiar gates of Stalag 13. He was not in a good mood, for he had been summoned by Captain Grüber, Klink's second in command, and things were in an uproar. As usual.
Oh, hell. Here we go again—sometimes I think I'm babysitting this camp. But I can't let anyone else investigate the weird stuff that keeps happening here—they'd all get shot! Klink included.
The staff car pulled to a stop outside the Kommandantur. Cohen climbed out of the back seat and nodded to the driver. He mentally shook himself, and, assuming the role of Hochstetter, stomped up the steps to the building, followed by two Gestapo underlings.
Storming into Colonel Klink's office, Cohen fixed the hapless Sergeant Schultz with a steely eye and got right in his face.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU HAVE LOST COLONEL KLINK!"
He could feel himself turning red and feared his eyes were starting to bulge. This was not an act, not this time. What on earth had that nincompoop Klink gotten himself into this time? Cohen had enough to worry about with the imminent execution of the Underground leader Hans Wagner, without any anxieties about the safety of Stalag 13 added to his plate. Not to mention worrying about those secret plans he was carrying around, the ones London was so eager to get its hands on...
"M-M-Major Hochstetter, sir, I am trying to explain," Schultz's eyes were terrified.
"So explain!" Cohen barked.
Schultz quaveringly explained, with tears in his eyes, how the vicious Underground thugs had held him at gunpoint and kidnapped the Kommandant, but he was unable to give Cohen a meaningful description of the kidnappers. He did somehow remember to give him a note demanding Wagner's release in exchange for the return of Colonel Klink, however.
Cohen took the note and stared at the message scrawled on it, stunned by this bit of news. The Underground wanted to use Klink as a bargaining chip to save Wagner? General Burkhalter, who was already seated in Klink's office, just rolled his eyes, but Cohen was frantically trying to think of a way to get him to agree to the exchange.
It would solve all my problems—well, at least two of them anyway. But who in their right mind would want Klink back? I'm pretty sure Burkhalter doesn't!
Cohen sighed inwardly as the door to the office burst open and Colonel Robert Hogan, United States Army Air Corps, catapulted in. Somehow Hogan always seemed to know when something was up, and today was no different.
"Major Hochstetter—I'm glad I caught you before you left!" he greeted Cohen cheerfully.
Me too. Maybe you can explain what is going on here.
"I won't be leaving for three days," he told Hogan with a frown.
"Yeah," said Hogan. "But you'll probably be too busy then."
"He's busy now," said Burkhalter.
Startled, Hogan swung around to face him. "General Burkhalter! What train did you come in on?"
Burkhalter eyed him with disfavor. "I didn't come in on any train."
"Colonel Klink thought you were taking the Berlin Express," said Hogan, who seemed somewhat taken aback.
"Just because he's afraid to fly, he thinks everybody else is too." Burkhalter gave a snort of disgust. "That Dummkopf let me wait at the airport for two hours!"
"That certainly is annoying, General, but I've got something much more important to discuss right now." Hogan paused. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
"Of course you are," said Burkhalter acidly. "I have never seen you when you are not interrupting."
Hogan looked at him with puppy-dog eyes. "What I have to say will only take a second."
Burkhalter heaved an exasperated sigh. "All right, Hogan. What is it?"
Hogan walked over to Cohen and addressed him. "Well, I understand the Underground will release Colonel Klink if the Gestapo frees Hans Wagner. Isn't that what they're demanding?"
Gotta love these sideways conversations with Hogan. I expect the plan to exchange a hostage for Wagner was his idea to begin with. But why choose Klink, of all people, for a hostage? Oh, I get it. Burkhalter was supposed to have been on the Berlin Express, and should have been in the car during the hold-up. Probably the Underground just grabbed who they could.
"Ja, that is what they are demanding," he told Hogan. "Klink goes free if Wagner goes free."
Hogan grinned. "I certainly call that a fair deal."
Yeah, right. Just try getting Burkhalter to agree to it!
"Ja, so would I," said Cohen. "If I were on the other side!"
Face facts, Hogan. Can you really come up with a reason to trade Wagner for Klink?
Cohen continued, "Hans Wagner is the brains behind the entire Underground operation. He is highly intelligent, courageous, and a leader."
"What about Colonel Klink?" demanded Hogan.
"What about him?" Burkhalter growled.
"Well, he's also a man of outstanding qualities," said Hogan. "Right, Schultz?"
Cohen turned to Schultz. "Such as?" he asked politely.
This should be good.
"Oh!" said Schultz. "There are so many..."
"Name one."
Schultz pondered this for a bit. "Well, there are not that many..."
Cohen turned back to Hogan. "The execution takes place tomorrow...as scheduled."
Unless you can come up with something quick, Hogan. Burkhalter's not gonna budge!
"And then Wagner's brother shoots Colonel Klink!" Hogan went back over to where Burkhalter was sitting, and as his voice rose Cohen could detect a note of panic. "Now, come on, General! Think of how long you've known Colonel Klink. Think of the things you two have been through together!"
"If I do," said Burkhalter, "I'm liable to shoot him myself."
He hauled himself to his feet. "Schultz!"
"Jawohl!" Schultz came to attention.
"Colonel Hogan is leaving," Burkhalter told him.
"Ja?" Schultz shook Hogan's hand. "Goodbye."
"Dummkopf!" Cohen shouted. "Get him out of here! Raus! Raus! Raus!"
Chastened, Schultz escorted Hogan from the office.
So much for that bright idea—for once Hogan couldn't talk Burkhalter into seeing things his way. Now what? I can't reveal my interest in saving Wagner's life, or that idiot Klink's either, for that matter. The Gestapo couldn't care less about such things.
After a few moments of silence, General Burkhalter prepared to leave. "Naturally, you will do everything in your power to apprehend the parties responsible for this outrage."
"We will leave no stone unturned," Cohen assured him.
"Well, don't go to all that trouble," Burkhalter muttered.
Fortunately, just as the General was turning to go, the phone rang and Cohen hurried to answer it. "Klink's private line is ringing...that's odd." He picked up the receiver. "Hallo?"
On the phone, a voice speaking English with a cultured accent spoke. The owner of the voice apparently thought Klink himself had answered. "Is it safe to talk, Klink?"
Cohen glanced at Burkhalter, who had abandoned his intention of leaving and was now approaching the desk. "Ja, it's safe."
Who on earth is this?
"Well, we've got another one for you, Nimrod, and it's a big one, old boy," the voice said. "Anyone...ah...wise to you yet?"
"N-o-o..." Cohen gripped the receiver and tried not to show his bewilderment.
Nimrod? What the hell...!
"Good show. After this, Nimrod, G2's pulling you out. Now I have a coded message. Listen closely..."
Aware that Burkhalter was leaning over his shoulder, Cohen frantically scribbled down the message. "Ja...ja...ja!"
"Memorize it, old boy, and then...eat it!" instructed the voice on the phone.
Cohen hung up the phone, thinking fast. He turned to Burkhalter. "We've got him—we've got him!"
Burkhalter said impatiently, "We've got who?"
Better make this good. If I can make Burkhalter believe Klink is Nimrod, that makes him worth exchanging for Wagner. At least I hope so.
"Nimrod!" he told Burkhalter triumphantly.
Burkhalter was flabbergasted. "Nimrod? That British agent?"
"Ja, that's right, the most wanted man in Germany, and we've got him!" Cohen paused, and allowed an anguished expression to cross his face. "No, we don't got him, they got him! But we can still get him!"
Utterly exasperated, Burkhalter demanded, "What are you babbling about?"
Improvising quickly, Cohen said, "That phone call, it was a message—oh, excuse me a moment. Mairzy doats, little boy blue." He closed his eyes, repeating the words, and then crammed the notepaper into his mouth and started to chew. With his mouth full, he said to Burkhalter, "I realize this is hard to believe, General, but Klink—"
"HOCHSTETTER!" Burkhalter thundered. "Take that paper out of your mouth."
"I'm sorry, General, but I got so excited—this news has me so excited!" Cohen took the chewed-up paper from his mouth and held it out to Burkhalter. "Here! Read this!"
Burkhalter backed away in revulsion. "You read it to me."
"Well, it's in code. It's some kind of instructions for Nimrod. I'll call headquarters and have them send a cryptologist—" Cohen froze, remembering.
Oh, hell, I can't do that!
"No, wait a minute!" he said desperately. "I'm a cryptologist, I was the top man in my unit—this will be no trick at all!"
Lies, all lies. But I gotta buy some time...
So Cohen sat down at Klink's desk and stared at the words he had written on the paper, which were now somewhat blurred after being chewed. He picked up a pencil, pulled a yellow notepad in front of him, and began to scribble on the top sheet. With an exasperated curse, he crumpled the paper, tossed it aside, and started on a new sheet.
The long-suffering Burkhalter sat by while Cohen muttered to himself and scribbled, and the pile of crumpled paper on Klink's desk grew and grew. Finally Cohen got to his feet and waved a paper at Burkhalter. "I got it, I told you—didn't I tell you I could break this code?"
Burkhalter said grimly, "For two hours you have been telling me that."
Cohen said (making it up as he went along), "What they're using here is a variation on the old Pfiesenhoffer cipher—basic vowel substitutes. A becomes E, if followed by P. When preceded by U, then E becomes B, and U becomes E, and sometimes Y...except after C. However..."
Burkhalter interrupted. "Just read the message."
Cohen peered at the paper in his hand. "I—am—foul—glurch—let—in—cragnik!" He handed the paper triumphantly to Burkhalter.
Burkhalter stared at the paper in disbelief. "This is the message? Obviously it is not the code!"
Cohen took the paper back, abashed. "Ja, obviously it's not the code. Oh, it's the old double loop method! I will try this, in no time at all..."
Burkhalter rose ponderously. "Why don't you just call headquarters and let them send over an expert? This whole thing doesn't make sense! The idea of Klink being a British agent is ridiculous!"
Cohen sat down at the desk with a thump. Delaying tactics were obviously at an end.
Come on, guys, I know you're listening in. I'm dying here! Hogan, what is taking you so long? I know damn well you were behind that phone call...Nimrod, my foot. And here I am, like an idiot, making up solutions to a code that doesn't exist.
He tried for a placating tone with Burkhalter. "Ja, I could not believe it myself, but you were here, you heard the phone ring, you saw me write down the message, so you know I'm not crazy!"
"Yes, I heard the phone ring," said Burkhalter. "I heard you say 'Mairzy doats', and I watched you eat a wad of paper."
Hoooogan!
Just as Burkhalter made Cohen call for an actual cryptologist, RAF Corporal Newkirk breezed in with a broom, a wastebasket and a cheeky grin.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, I was told I had to come and clean up the Kommandant's office."
"Go ahead," said Burkhalter. "You might as well start with the desk." And indeed the pile of crumpled paper had assumed monumental proportions.
"All right, sir." Newkirk started to stuff some of the crumpled paper into his wastebasket. "He's been keeping you busy, I see, sir!"
Cohen glared at him as he spoke into the phone, "Gestapo Headquarters, please..."
Newkirk pulled one of the pieces of paper from the wastebasket and uncrumpled it. "Oh, my goodness me—the old Wellington cipher!"
"Wellington cipher?" queried Burkhalter as he came forward to look at the paper.
Newkirk glanced up from the paper. "It's the first one they taught us at cryptology, this was. I don't suppose they've used this code for...oh...over a hundred years."
Cohen thankfully hung up the phone at a gesture from Burkhalter, and waited for the General's response to this.
"We have just been talking about that ourselves," said Burkhalter mendaciously.
"Yes," agreed Cohen, barely able to disguise his relief.
Burkhalter looked at Newkirk. "You know this Wellington cipher?"
Newkirk said, with a touch of modesty, "Well, I'm not an expert like the Major, sir."
"Don't be too sure of that," replied Burkhalter, with a withering glance at Cohen. "Let's see if your translation is the same as his."
"All right, sir. It'd be a bit of a challenge." Newkirk plucked a pencil from the desk and crossed the room to sit down with the paper in hand. "I haven't done this for years. Very simple, though. Now, I make it out to be...hmm. Secret...plans...hidden. What is this? Looks like a name...Hilda! Secret plans hidden Hilda's desk! Does that sound right to you, sir?"
You have got to be kidding me! That is the dumbest thing I ever...
"Sounds perfect!" said Cohen, and he ran for the door to Hilda's office, with Burkhalter on his heels.
Much later, in Klink's office...
"That does it," said Cohen. "I have taken all the necessary precautions. In a few minutes, Nimrod will be my prisoner."
The exchange should have taken place by now. I can only hope that everything worked out okay...my nerves are shot!
Burkhalter sat with a sheaf of papers in his hand, freshly retrieved from the bottom drawer of Hilda's desk. "It just doesn't seem possible, how I could have been so fooled by Klink."
"Ah, Nimrod is a very brilliant man!" Cohen hastened to assure him.
"Yes, but Klink is such a stupid one."
"That is where he was truly brilliant!" said Cohen. "You only thought he was stupid."
Burkhalter glared at him. "Everybody thought he was stupid!"
Cohen couldn't disagree with that, so he wisely kept quiet as he watched the General peruse the papers.
Burkhalter turned them over in his hands and frowned. "How do you suppose he got these? I haven't even been shown these plans."
"It's of a new aircraft, isn't it?" asked Cohen.
"Ja," Burkhalter said slowly. "It seems awfully big..."
Sensing some doubt on Burkhalter's part, Cohen threw himself into his performance. Adopting a fussy manner worthy of Klink himself, he looked at his watch. "Any time now! Now, let us remember to act calmly, General, I do not want him to suspect anything when he walks in. These guards are trigger-happy, and I want Nimrod alive!"
That idiot Klink should be here soon. I just need Burkhalter to believe Klink's Nimrod until I'm sure Wagner's safe...
Just then, Hilda walked into the outer office and took off her coat. "He's here," she announced.
"He's here!" Cohen waved wildly at the guards he had assembled in the office. "Hold your fire!"
Accompanied by two Gestapo guards, Klink swept into the outer office. Spotting Cohen and Burkhalter in the doorway of his office, he came forward with his usual effusive manner.
"Oh, General Burkhalter! Oh, oh, Major Hochstetter! Oh, my dear friends. What I have been through!"
"Don't move, or you're a dead man," said Burkhalter.
Klink cringed as two Lugers were pointed at his head. "I don't understand."
Cohen sneered, "Don't you, Nimrod?"
Klink's jaw dropped. "Nimrod?"
"What is your real name?" demanded Cohen.
Klink looked frantically from Cohen to Burkhalter and back again. "My name is Wilhelm Klink. Now, anyone knows that. You all know that...Wilhelm Klink!"
The Lugers were pointed at Klink's head again.
"This is a little joke? Oh, marvelous! After what I've been through, I could use a good laugh." Klink laughed nervously until he saw the unamused expressions on Cohen's and Burkhalter's faces. "No one could use a good laugh?"
Really, this is tough on poor old Klink. First he gets kidnapped and now he's threatened with the Gestapo. Bad day all around. Could've been worse, though, if Burkhalter hadn't agreed to the exchange.
"Bah! After questioning at headquarters, we will see who laughs last!" Cohen hauled Klink into the office, and left him with four guards all pointing guns at him.
In the outer office Cohen told a puzzled Hilda, "Fräulein Hilda, will you please send for my car?" He turned to Burkhalter. "If ever I saw a guilty man, that is the one!"
Burkhalter shook his head. "He still looks like stupid old Klink to me."
"I think, General, you will be convinced once I have gotten a signed confession!"
Of course, that's not gonna happen. Now, how do we end this farce?
As if on cue, Hogan burst into the outer office, giving a yelp of fright as two guards immediately pointed their guns at him. He raised his hands and looked at the guards uneasily.
Well, what did you expect? You know we've got the evil Nimrod in here!
Cohen waved the guards away, and Hogan came farther into the office.
"I just want to see the Kommandant a moment," he said.
"The Kommandant will not be seeing anyone for awhile," Cohen told him.
"It'll only take a second," Hogan assured him. "I wanted to ask if he had gotten the plans yet for the Hindenburg. The men are eager to work on the models they got from the Red Cross."
"Hindenburg?" said Burkhalter.
"Models?" said Cohen.
"Oh, there they are." Hogan hurried over to a stack of boxes that had been standing on a cabinet. "That's swell."
Burkhalter looked at him sharply, and then looked at the plans in his hand again.
"Oh, you've got the plans, too? Good." Hogan snatched them from Burkhalter's hand and rushed from the office, calling over his shoulder, "Give my best to Klink!"
A bit bewildered by Hogan's whirlwind visit, Cohen said to Burkhalter, "The plans! You gave him the plans!"
Burkhalter looked as though he were in danger of exploding. "Those plans are for a dirigible! A big bag, filled with hot air, just like you!"
Look who's talking! And it took you all this time to figure out those plans weren't actually for an airplane?
"But the phone call...the code!" Cohen protested.
He was interrupted by Hilda's phone ringing. She answered it, and with a rueful glance at Cohen, handed him the receiver.
"Hallo, Hochstetter here."
On the phone, the cultured British voice spoke again. "Just called to let you know that Hans Wagner arrived safely. I do hope Colonel Klink did too. And...awfully nice doing business with you, Major."
Gee, thanks, Hogan. You run all the shenanigans and I get all the grief. At least Wagner's okay. And Klink's back. That's good...I think.
Cohen hung up the phone and smiled weakly at the apoplectic Burkhalter.
"How do you volunteer for duty at the Eastern Front?"
"No problem," Burkhalter growled. "I'll have you there by tomorrow."
Fortunately, General Burkhalter did not carry out his threat to send Major Hochstetter to the Eastern Front—at least, not for the moment.
Cohen drove away from Stalag 13 in his usual state of exasperation, but this time, at least, Hogan did not get off totally scot-free. Cohen had decided that since Hogan had used him as a patsy, it was fair enough that Hogan and his men should help him out.
While waiting for Klink's return, Cohen had slipped his own secret plans, the ones that London wanted so badly, into one of the model airplane boxes, grinning evilly as he included a note that was sure to make Hogan just as crazy as Hogan had made him.
My dear Colonel—
Clever the way you got Wagner out of that prison camp. Kindly be just as clever and get these plans out of this one.
Till we meet again—
Nimrod