Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 10

Stop!

The three Underground agents separated at the edge of town. Activity in Hammelburg had settled for the night. The wind, too, had settled and the snow was now falling gently, burying the ravages of war beneath a layer of pure white. Willie headed east to the Hoffbrau where he would don his waiter attire and become visible before any acts of sabotage began. It was at the Hoffbrau where Willie first met Colonel Hogan, who was wearing a German uniform and being wined and dined by some German brass.1 Somehow the American officer had arranged a German escort to his rendezvous to pass along secret information. Willie had been so nervous he could barely talk and would have left the Underground that very night except that he was enormously impressed by the cool-talking, fast-acting young American, who even while being flanked by some of Germany's highest ranking officials was able to pull off a pass right under their noses. A man who could do that, Willie decided, could do just about anything.

South of town, Tiger and Lutz headed for Tiger's adopted great uncle Gustoff's home. They stayed in the shadows, appearing as lovers walking hand in hand and out for an intimate late night stroll. Lutz's plan was to escort Tiger home before heading to his parents' farm. Not that Tiger needed an escort—and she would be the first to tell you so—but Lutz had been raised differently, and he would escort Tiger home.

"It's all so misleading," Marie whispered.

Lutz looked at her, expecting her to continue and found himself captivated by her vision. The face was young and beautiful and was magnified by the sparkling of the snow clinging to her hat and hair. The illusion of carefree beauty was shattered, however, when he looked into her eyes. The war and the activities of the night, both past and present, were burned into them and abruptly broke the spell her beauty had cast over him. Just about to ask what she had meant by her comment, he was jerked to a halt by her suddenly tense hand in his. Following her gaze down the street, he immediately saw what had alarmed her.

A hurried man in a heavy coat, his hat pulled down in front blocking the snow from his face, was coming toward them. Lutz, placing his hands on Tiger's shoulders, pulled her further into the shadows under the tangled branches of a nearby snow-laden tree. They huddled together like lovers watching the figure continue to advance on them while looking intently at the ground, as if following some invisible trail of bread crumbs.

"It's the baker-Schiller," Lutz whispered.

"Morgan's father? Tiger asked. "What's he doing out here at this time of night?"

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"Put them outside. I want them bitter cold when they're used!"

The heavy manacles clanked as the guard wrestled them up and hurried to follow Hochstetter's orders. The links were thick, as were the cuffs, and were designed to weigh a prisoner down as well as to confine him.

Hochstetter watched them being carried outside, seeing not only the chains but the vision of the prisoner that would soon be in them. "He'll feel the sting of defeat down to his bones!" That I promise! The Major's gravely voice was anxious with anticipation as he paced, waiting for the radio to crackle to life with the coordinates of the saboteurs. He hated waiting but had come to realize it was a necessary evil. It was a lesson learned as he built previous snares for other ill-fated Underground groups. Ironically, it made him feel like a prisoner himself. So to offset this self imposed captivity, he planned his interrogation of the Underground leader Papa Bear. A man he had been tracking for too long. A man whose face he had given to the American—Colonel Hogan.

"It has to be Hogan; everything points to Stalag 13!" he mumbled, while flexing his fists causing his leather gloves to stretch and creak. He enjoyed the sound. It reminded him of the bare skin and bones of his prisoners stretching and popping under the stress and duress of interrogation, and it was helping him to fan his fantasy. Folding his hands into fists, he continued to play out the anticipated scene. The begging for mercy would follow. And it would be particularly satisfying coming from the man who had been the source of his embarrassment. Hochstetter's pacing stopped, and a smile curled the corner of his lips.

"Did you say something, Major?" Lieutenant Dresdner asked.

Hochstetter snapped out of his daze and spun on the lieutenant, as his imagined delight faded along with his patience. "Bah, enough of this waiting!" Hochstetter bellowed.

Dresdner motioned for the guards to follow him, as he rushed to follow Hochstetter out the door.

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-Splash!—

Idiot! Why don't you just shout, -Here I am!- Morgan's hand entered the icy water, catching himself as he stumbled over the wet rocks and twigs. Wishing he had had the presence of mind to grab his gloves before he ran from his home, he blew his warm breath into his hands while looking over the ground in front of him. Where are they? His fear had escalated as the trail, left by Hogan and his men, had become harder and harder to see. Now it seemed to disappear altogether in the shallow edges of the dark gurgling water in the bottom of the creek bed. Running on hope bordering on panic his instincts told him he was getting himself deeper and deeper into danger and should give up—My father's right…I don't know when to quit! He shook his head at the thought. But apparently he does. The bitterness of hearing his parents justifying their actions ate at him. I learned my ideals from you! I guess I should have learned to give up from you, too. Then, maybe, I wouldn't be out here freezing. His father's words played back to him. 'Live to fight another day, by knowing when to walk away,'. He considered those words now, but he couldn't bring himself to follow that logic. The men of Stalag 13 have done too much for us. Not only have they blown up bridges and factories, but entire families have been helped out of Germany. And…Morgan admitted, we need them; there is still much to be done.

He looked into the darkness ahead of him and pulling the cuffs of his coat down over his reddened hands he placed them under his arms, holding them close against his body, and continued blindly in the direction the trail had led not knowing he, too, was at this moment being tracked…visually.

Hegel hid in the shadows, his black uniform blending into the darkness. What was that sound? Waiting, he listened. It had hardly been discernable, a slight ruffle of sound…but out of sequence with the rhythmic swaying of the snow-laden trees. Then—was that movement? A rabbit bolted from its hiding place. Yes! Something startled that animal. There-where the creek turns! Hegel watched as a shadowy figure quickly disappeared.

Bad choice of direction, Papa Bear! You're heading right to where Major Hochstetter wants you! With no way of knowing that what he glimpsed was already an attempt to warn the infamous Papa Bear, he looked over his shoulder in the opposite direction and frowned. I needed to draw the patrols away, and there isn't much time. If Hochstetter's plan is to fail, I have to act quickly!

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Klink took a sip of his hot cocoa while standing in his pajamas in his darkened office watching the search lights rake the encampment. Barracks Two, Hogan's barracks, was dark and quiet…and it had better stay that way, Klink thought. He would stand for no monkey business while he was operating with fewer guards. Tonight, anyone who broke a rule could expect to be sent to the cooler. There would be zero tolerance. "Lights out an hour early," he remembered telling his senior POW, and he had followed through on his promise with no retaliation from Colonel Hogan. That, alone, made Klink nervous. And he had actually considered locking the American up just based on past experience. Except…then he really would have reason to worry about revenge!

"Well, it looks like you got the message, Hogan. Now maybe I can get some sleep!" Klink said out loud. Taking another swallow of hot cocoa, he walked back into his private quarters, locking the connecting door behind him.

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-splash—

Newkirk froze. What was that? Taking two quick steps to catch up, he jabbed Kinch's arm. Kinch turned and Newkirk walked his fingers up his hand before pointing at his ear. Kinch shot a startled glance past Newkirk and then turned back around and tagged Carter, quickly signing the warning. Carter, in turn, passed it to LeBeau, who, stepping next to Hogan, hurriedly gave the bad news.

Hogan clinched his jaw and nodded. -Great! - Pulling his gun he twirled his opposite hand in a circle and everyone fanned out to wait. Within seconds the sound of someone approaching became more discernable, and the five saboteurs prepared their ambush.

Soon Newkirk signaled a visual sighting and all breathing stopped. Come on you bloody idiot! That's it just a wee bit more… more… The shadowy figure finally passed in front of him and the Englander slipped out of the shadows simultaneously wrapping the crook of his arm around the intruder's neck quickly blocking off his air and any hope of calling out.

Instantaneously a foot slammed down on top of Newkirk's. Ow! You bloody… Stumbling to one side, Newkirk pulled his arm tighter around the struggling enemy and began a downward spiral. Carter, rushing up on Newkirk's left, caught an elbow in the face, knocking him backward, but not before he gave Newkirk a push keeping him on his feet. As Carter splattered onto the ground, Louis moved in on Newkirk's other side, grabbing the flailing arm of their enemy, and pinned it down. Kinch took the opening and stepping out of the darkness prepared to deliver the knock out blow. Carter scrambled to his feet, blood running from his nose, and rushed back to Newkirk's side, helping to steady the wiggling intruder. Hogan, carefully keeping watch, stood back, gun ready and aimed at the intruder ready to take him down should he break free.

Morgan? Hogan grabbed Kinch's elbow from behind stopping the knockout blow. "Wait!" Pushing past Kinch he placed his gloved hand over Morgan's mouth and signaled Newkirk to ease off. Morgan drew in a muffled breath and Hogan clamped his hand down tighter over the lad's mouth to keep him from exhaling in a cough.

Struggling to get control, the youth breathed out through his nose, and quickly used the same route to breathe in again, as Hogan did not offer to remove his hand. Blinking and swallowing hard, Morgan nodded his understanding to be quiet. Hogan jerked his head toward the darkness indicating to the others to take a quick look around.

Newkirk rubbed the top of his foot, and then looking at Carter saw the blood running down his buddy's chin. Pulling a kerchief from his pocket, he handed it to Carter, before punching Morgan hard on the shoulder and hobbling off.

"Mmm!" Morgan grabbed his arm.

"Shhh!" Hogan softly warned. –You're lucky that's all you got!

In a short time they were all back, assuring Hogan that they were alone. Hogan lowered his hand and asked, "What are you doing here?" Hogan's anger was barely contained. "And it had better be good! This stupid act could get us all killed!"

Morgan trembled, sweat glistening in his hair. He anxiously took some short breaths, trying to fill his burning lungs with enough air to speak.

"Trap!" The hoarseness of his voice heightened the warning.

Hogan's men's eyes widened as they looked from one another to their leader.

Hogan stared at Morgan. "Are you sure?" –Damn- "How do you know?" Hogan demanded, looking first at Morgan and then into the darkness.

"Oui, don't stop there! What kind of trap?" Louis shifted his weight nervously and turned to look over his shoulder.

"I tink you brode my node!" Carter stammered, more concerned with his immediate problem and still clutching the kerchief to his face.

Kinch walked over to Carter and pulled his hand with the bloody kerchief away. Then, placing his own hands on either side of Carter's nose, felt for deformity. Shaking his head, he assured "It's not broken. Believe me, with all the boxing I've done, I know when a nose is broken!"

Morgan, still staring uncomfortably into the stern face of Colonel Hogan, did not hear the conversation going on behind him. Blinking back the tears of shame over his father's actions, he replaced them with anger.

"My…my father…he's been giving information to…the Gestapo."

"Oh, well that's bloody marvelous!" Newkirk answered, as he took the handful of medicinal snow he had gathered and crammed it into Carter's face. Then, drawing his gun, he lowered his height a couple of inches. "Is there anything else you want to throw at us?"

"Quiet!" Hogan hissed through clenched teeth. Still looking at Morgan, he asked, "How much does your father know?" Hogan's face steeled as he braced for the answer.

"I don't know." Shaking his head, he continued, "Nothing that I know of."

"Then what could your dad tell them?" Kinch asked, as he washed the blood from his hands with snow. "You're not making any sense!"

"Morgan, get to the point; we could be sitting ducks here!" Hogan ordered.

Morgan swallowed some of the dryness out of his throat. "He had just been making observations of the townspeople from what I could tell, But he said that he told the Gestapo officer that it was…" Morgan paused, "…his own men that were spilling the most information about this secret factory." Morgan looked at Hogan. "It sounds like a set up, Colonel Hogan. I thought you should know." Morgan looked around at the men surrounding him. His eyes stopped on Carter's bloodied face. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"That doesn't help," Carter answered, still annoyed, and then put a fresh handful of snow on his throbbing nose.

"What do we do now, mon Colonel?"

Without waiting for an answer, Newkirk offered, "I say let's get the bloody 'ell out of here!"

Hogan hunkered down and his men followed. Eyeing his munitions man, he asked, "You all right, Carter?"

"He's all right, Colonel!" Newkirk answered.

"Is your name Carter?" LeBeau asked.

Kinch rubbed his eyes, sighing and shaking his head before staring disapprovingly at his comrades.

"Can it!" Hogan looked back at Carter waiting for his answer.

"Yes, sir…I think so…it's feeling better."

Hogan nodded, "Good, we need you."

That was all Carter needed to hear. He dropped the snow he was pressing to his nose from his hand.

Kinch, take Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau and put a time delay charge on the bridge leading back into Hammelburg, then see if you can take out a junction box feeding into the communication center in town. If not, blow up some track…or anything that will draw Hochstetter and his goons out of here. Give yourselves enough time to blow whatever it is before the bridge goes up and then get back to camp. I'm willing to bet Hochstetter has played the odds and pulled every available man to his factory ambush. If…it is an ambush. And ten will get you twenty that it is." Hogan stared off into space for a moment, before looking back at Kinch. "But that still doesn't tell me if the factory is real."

Kinch nodded, "What are you going to do, Colonel?"

"I'll stay here and keep watch. If this is really a dummy plant, when the explosions start Hochstetter should take all of his men and head to the activity."

LeBeau's eyes popped at the answer.

"You're staying…" Morgan, shocked, began to question that decision, causing Newkirk to give him a back hand to the chest. "Ugh!"

"Quiet, mate," Newkirk warned and then finished Morgan's question. "Colonel, do you plan on staying here alone?"

LeBeau added with some urgency, "Oui, Colonel, you can't stay here alone, one of us will stay, too! I volunteer!"

"I'll be all right." Hogan answered, in an, 'end of discussion' kind of voice.

LeBeau looked to Kinch for help. But Kinch only shook his head.

Not a prayer, Louis! There were times you could question the Colonel, but this was not one of those times. The Colonel was making fast decisions based on very little information. He would not allow anyone to take any unnecessary risks…no one except himself, that is.

Hogan looked at Carter. "Do you have enough dynamite in that bag you're carrying to leave me some?"

"Sure do, boy…I mean, sir!" Carter pulled out two compact bundles and carefully handed them over and pointed, "You set it here. You'll have ten minutes for each mark."

Hogan nodded and then looking at Morgan ordered, "You go back home. And get there before the fireworks!"

"Do you think they know about me?" Morgan asked, not sure that going home was a wise decision.

"You tell me. Would your parents turn you in if they were suspicious of you?'

"No!" The denial came out without hesitation, but Morgan hadn't thought his father would consort with the Gestapo either and his certainty wavered. Looking more confused he said, "At least, I don't think so."

Realizing the danger, was imminent but not upon them—yet— Hogan let go of some of his initial anger, and was now able to see the boy and not the threat. He realized how painful Morgan's realization of his father's actions, and his doubts about his own safety, would have been, and offered his insights to soften the blow.

"I think you're probably right. Your parents, most likely, are trying to protect you from the Gestapo. Besides, the Gestapo would have had you in for questioning if they thought you knew anything." Hogan shook his head, "Hochstetter is after Papa Bear, and he's most likely using you to get your parents to cooperate. But if you're afraid to go home, go to Tiger and have her hide you until we can get you out of Germany."

Hogan checked his watch, "Okay, enough talk." Looking at his men he ordered, "Get going. I'll meet you back at camp. And take Morgan out of here with you."

"Yes, sir," Kinch answered, while motioning Newkirk, Carter and Morgan to head out.

Newkirk, uncomfortable with showing emotions, looked at Hogan and mumbled, "Be careful, guv'nor," and then quickly stepped away, pulling Morgan to follow.

Carter observed Newkirk's awkward attempt at not showing his emotions and turned to sincerely offer his own. "Yeah, Colonel, be careful." Carter shuffled his feet, turning to fall in behind Morgan.

"Morgan," Hogan called in a curt whisper.

Morgan turned, looking at Hogan with trepidation.

"This was a foolish thing to do," the reprimand was said with force and meaning and then tempered with a softer, "Thanks!"

Morgan's mournful face lightened and he smiled for the first time since catching up with Hogan and his men. "You're welcome!" he answered, and then turned to follow Newkirk.

Kinch watched Morgan's changed demeanor and smiled. Then, turning back to his commanding officer, said what Hogan hadn't. "Brave kid!"

"Yeah, I hope it doesn't get him killed someday." The American Colonel looked away from the retreating threesome and back at Kinch.

Kinch smirked at the irony of Hogan's statement and then added, "Colonel, don't take any chances; we can come back for the factory later if it's legit."

"Kinch is right, mon Colonel," LeBeau agreed, stepping up beside the muscular Sergeant.

"If it's legit, we may never have a better opportunity. Now get going before those three walk into a patrol," Hogan answered with a half smile.

Kinch reluctantly turned to leave, nudging Louis ahead of him.

Looking back over his shoulder Louis whispered, "Bonne chance, Colonel!"

1 From the episode 10: "Top Hat, White Tie and Bomb Sight" Aired November 19th 1965.