May 5, 1942
Colditz Officer's Camp

Much to Robert's surprise, finding his way down to Barracks 129 after hours wasn't too much of a challenge. He had spent the evening surveying as much of the prison camp as he could to make his evening trip in relative safety.

After this was accomplished, he had spent the day wrestling with his mind. Who had put the note on his bunk and why? Just how smart was he being, breaking rules only days after he had been interned at Colditz? Yet, despite all his misgivings, Robert's desire to be free, to escape from barred windows and guards, prevailed. The horror of this interrogation was never far from his mind, and after seeing the depressed condition of his fellow inmates, Robert knew that an extended time as a captive would drive him to the brink of insanity.

At just past eleven, a full hour after lights out, Robert slipped from his bunk, careful not to disturb his roommate. The man below him shifted slightly, his light snoring interrupted. Robert froze, knowing that if he was discovered on this night outing, chances were high he would be betrayed to the Germans.

Seconds crawled by, and after nearly a minute, Robert decided the man was going to remain in his uneasy sleep. The rest of the room remained undisturbed as he padded by. One man, near the door was crying softly in his sleep at some shy memory. In the dark, Robert estimated the man to be roughly twenty. Had this man experienced all Robert had? Probably not to the extremes, but to be in Colditz, the stranger must be a least a junior officer, which automatically subjugated him a degree of interrogation.

Upon reaching the doorway, Robert paused to check his surroundings, making sure the night guards followed the same pattern he had observed during the day. They did. While Colditz was rumored to be inescapable, the movement inside the fortress was not watched near as close. After all, what did it matter that a few prisoners slipped into other barracks, when it was certain that they couldn't leave the building?

The guard reached the greatest distance away from the doorway he would reach, and Robert slipped into the hallway. Trying his hardest to eliminate all noise, Robert managed to find a shadowy corner to hide in as the guard turned and moved back towards him. So far so good.

It took nearly half an hour of dodging other guards, but Robert eventually managed to make his way undetected to Barracks 129. The man on watch at the door spotted Robert and opened it wide enough to admit him.

Once inside, Robert stared about the room for a few moments in shock. All about, more then a dozen men were working quietly and efficiently on some odd job. The room was dimly lit by a smuggled lantern. When he entered the room, all work ceased.

In the stillness, an older man, who had previously been pouring over a stack of papers, removed himself from the group and approached Robert. He wore the insignia of a colonel.

"Robert Hogan?" he asked gruffly.

"Reporting, sir! "Robert said, saluting.

" Hogan," the strange colonel said, "You're probably wondering about the strange summoning my men and I have done some background checks on you since you arrived at Colditz. I have a couple men who have flown under you in the 504th. Your reputation obviously precedes you, and the men and I have decided to allow you into our trust. Are you interested?"

The decision took no more than a split second. Robert knew his sanity wouldn't survive the war intact as an ordinary prisoner; fighting back stood as the only acceptable alternative. "Absolutely."

The colonel smiled. "Good man, Hogan. I'm Randy Waltz, leader of the Colditz escape committee. We have no current projects on the table, but simply are preparing ourselves for escape as soon as an opportunity presents itself."

"Such as?"

"Forged passes, civilan clothing, papers, secreting rations, anything at all. We have enough desperate men to pull it off. That's not to say we haven't been caught at anything – quite to the contrary. The risks are great, Hogan. I've had many men physically punished being captured, endured isolation cells several times myself, and lost two good men that were 'shot while escaping'."

Robert saw the distance cloud Waltz's eyes. So the krauts, although they hid behind faces of humane wardens, weren't much above the Gestapo. He felt his stomach knot at his train of thought, and hardened himself with it.

"I can accept those risks, sir," Robert said resolutely. "What needs to be done?"

May 17th

Routine, Robert decided, was a dangerous thing. A few nights of successfully slipping down from his barracks to meet with the escape crew rendered him careless. The results had nearly led him to discovery. Just four days ago, a guard spotted a crew member in his self-tailored civilian clothing because the prisoner had forgotten to remove it before roll call. Simple events like that alerted Robert to how dangerous the business of subterfuge was in Colditz.

Still, it felt good to be doing something beyond rotting in a prison camp. Perhaps someday his efforts might reward him freedom and a chance to strike back at his captors for all the misery his captivity had wrought on him.

Tonight, he and Captain Paul Jennings shared the mission of retrieving ammunition from the supply room for the smuggled gun. Both knew the perils of such an investigation, and their actions tonight had been plotted for weeks.

Robert stood positioned outside the washrooms, waiting for Jennings's signal. The Captain volunteered to sacrifice himself for the sake of the mission by allowing the supply room guard to catch him out of his barracks after hours. Even if the Kommandant was in a good mood, that alone spelled at least thirty days in solitary. Make this work, Robert told himself. The price is too high to fail.

After his time in Colditz, Robert decided that all the rumors about the fortress were true except one: Colditz was not the worst place a POW could go - that position belonged solely to the Dulag Luft. But the enlisted man's talk about the fortresses strictness and inescapable record held mostly true. Tonight, however, Robert planned to change all that by gaining the escape crew real ammunition and rebuild the committee's hope.

Suddenly, a whistle broke the oppressive silence, and nearby much shouting began. Straining his ears, Robert picked up Jennings's British accent among all the German words. It was time.

Glancing about, Robert reassured himself that all focus lay Jennings. He managed to reach the door to the supply room unmolested. Trying to control his breathing and heart rate, he produced the homemade knife and began to pick the lock. It refused to yield to his frantic attempts.

Robert swore under his breath. Relax. You can do this. The shouting match was still continuing, and Robert inwardly thanked the captain for his sacrifice. He removed the blade from the lock and started fresh. This time, luck was with him. The lock slid open and Robert slipped inside the room.

It was dark inside, and he had no idea which shelf might hold the bullets he needed. Panic again threatened to overtake him as glanced about the large room. Breathe. He needed to make his search so his presence went unnoticed. Fortunately, his eyes adjusted and it only took him a few moments to locate the correct place. After a moment of scrambling, he found an open container and slipped the necessary bullets under his jacket. He decided it didn't matter if they were hidden well – if he was caught this evening they would be found regardless.

The voices outside were decreasing in volume, and Robert hurriedly departed the supply room, his heart rate falling. He managed to slip back inside the washroom before the guard returned to his usual routine. The play was to wait five minutes before slipping back to his barracks and hiding the bullets.

Nearly two minutes later, when Robert had begun to relax, shouting commenced again outside. Expletives flying through his brain, Robert instinctively knew his deed had been uncovered. The washroom was no longer safe – h e needed to quickly return to his bunk.

With a quick prayer, Robert made a break for his barracks. The confusion would occupy the guards, he told himself. Ten steps. Five. Three.

"Halt!"

Light surrounded him, and Robert raised his arms. Damn.

May 17th, 1942
Hogan Family Home
Indianapolis, Indiana

Rodger Hogan stared at the rain pouring down the windowsill, seeming to reflect his mood. Tomorrow was Greg's birthday. His oldest son was turning thirty. It should be a day of celebration, but Rodger knew tomorrow would yield nothing but mournful emotions on the part of all.

Laughter emitted from the next room. Emma, Danny, and Regina sat making plans for the wedding. It seemed like the plans never ended, but Rodger didn't mind. He knew it was their excuse for keeping minds away from the war. And besides, his only daughter needed a wedding fit for a queen.

"Rodger Hogan!" his wife's voice thundered into his thoughts. "I want you in here right now!"

Glad to move on to happier thoughts, even at his expense, Rodger hurriedly obeyed. He found the trio pouring over pictures of various reception halls.

"What is it, dear?" he asked innocently.

Regina glowered at him. "Did you or did you not tell your staff to prepare the office basement for the wedding reception?"

"Well…I…." Rodger wasn't sure what response his wife wanted. Experience told him he would pick the wrong one, regardless.

"Answer the question, Daddy," Emma chimed in sweetly.

Rodger really knew he was in trouble now. No good ever came out of Emma calling him Daddy. "Well….I guess I did." He winced, praying that was the awaited response.

Suddenly, his arms were full of a flurry of cloth that he later recognized as his daughter.

"Daddy, I knew you did! I'm so glad! See, Mom? I told you Daddy had it all taken care of. No details, no fussy arrangements with strangers – just leave it all to him. No worries about the reception."

Rodger blinked. That wasn't what he had meant at all when he had volunteered his basement casually to Danny and his secretary yesterday at work. He'd assume someone else would take care of all the arrangements.

He carefully detangled himself from his daughter. "I'm going to do all the arrangements form the receptions?"

Emma grinned sweetly. "See how eager he is to take part in my wedding, Danny?"

Rodger looked over at his future son-in-law. "What just happened?"

"I'm taking careful notes on how not to get manipulated by my fiancée," Danny said carefully.

At that point, all four of them burst into laughter. It was times like these that Rodger felt blessed to have a family. The laughter made all the tears worth it.

A car pulled into the driveway, the crunch of the tires on the gravel audible to all. Regina frowned. "Who comes calling on a day like this? Were you expecting anyone, Emma dear?"

The younger woman shook her head. Rodger felt a knot from in his stomach as he watched the occupant hurry up to the porch. The man was wearing a postal uniform. The atmosphere immediately tightened. "Rodger," his wife said, "you answer. I can't."

Obediently, Rodger opened the door for the young man. It was as he feared: another telegram had arrived.

He waited until the he had sat down among his family before opening it and reading it aloud.

Mr. and Mrs. Rodger Hogan,

This message is to inform you that we have received word that the status of Colonel Robert E. Hogan has been confirmed. He has been captured by the Axis Powers and is being held as a prisoner of war at Colditz Prison. Contact information will shortly follow.

Deepest regrets,

General Edmond Bevin, Allied High Command

"He's alive," Emma breathed, lying back on the sofa. "He's really alive."

"And a prisoner of war," Danny added.

Regina put a hand on his shoulder. "But alive, and relatively safe. My prayers went answered."

And then Regina surprised them all by beginning to weep uncontrollably, a mixture of all her emotions that had built up over the past few months. Her tears unlocked the dams within them all. Soon, as they had all been connected by laughter, they were now connected by tears.

A/N: I am going to try and complete this story now. I foresee no more than a couple weeks to completion. Thank you for your patience. Enjoy!