Hogan clutched the bag of jellybeans protectively, as if his very life depended upon its safety. Well, maybe his life didn't depend upon it, but his sanity certainly did. It was crazy and impossible and downright silly that this could solve his problem. But then again, Hogan mused, the problem itself was crazy and impossible and downright silly.

He paused just outside his barracks, hand resting on the door as he looked down at the brown bag. Did he waste time having Carter analyze it? No, they were just jellybeans for Pete sakes. Just like the 'water' had just been water. A frustrated growl rumbled in his throat. When this was all over, he was going to send all the water he could to London- maybe they could find something Carter couldn't.

No, he wasn't going to waste time with Carter. He was just going to give the bag to one of his men and have them dive in. But which one? Hogan quickly weighed his options. He wasn't too worried about Carter, who was already half-way normal. And though Olsen and Newkirk were wearing on his nerves a little, they could wait too. LeBeau, however, was quickly forgetting his English and that could lead to problems. Hogan waved that worry aside; there were plenty of French speakers in camp that could help out.

Hogan looked back down at the bag. If this crazy idea did solve his problems, he would need to get his hands on more jellybeans which would require a drop from London. Which would require a call to London. Which would require his radioman.

Kinch it was.

Hogan felt a small weight lift from his shoulders. Radio expertise aside, he could really use Kinch's calm, level-headed support to keep him sane.

Unfortunately, this five-year-old version of Kinch wasn't quite as logical and level-headed as the one Hogan was use to.

"I don't like the black ones," Kinch grumbled as Hogan tried for the third time to talk some sense into him. It was like beating his head into a brick wall. Kinch sat on the edge of his bunk, arms folded across his chest, jaw set and eyes defiant.

"You don't like being a kid either, do you?" Hogan countered. For a brief moment, confusion played across Kinch's features before being replaced with suspicion. Hogan was half-tempted to just shove the candy down Kinch's throat. "Look, I'm you're commanding officer and I'm ordering you to eat this bag of candy, got it?"

Kinch let out a contemptuous snort. "Don't gotta do nothing," he muttered.

Hogan sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Kinch." He rested a hand on Kinch's shoulder, causing Kinch to tense. There was a mountain of distrust in the boy's eyes. "Kinch, pull yourself together. I need you."

The softness of his tone seemed to crack the hard shell around Kinch. The boy studied him intently, as if honestly trying to figure out why he should trust him. Finally, Kinch's body sagged with relief and he let out a long sigh. "Colonel."

"Yeah. You okay?"

"It took me a minute," Kinch said softly. "Forgot who you were."

"You're not the only one. Sure you're okay? You remember now?" Kinch nodded. "Good. Now eat the damn candy."

Kinch groaned but took the bag from Hogan. He squeezed his eyes shut and popped a handful into his mouth. "Yuck."

"Good boy. The whole bag now."

Kinch looked wounded at the order, but obediently grabbed another handful. Hogan clapped him on the knee and gave him a small smile.

"Hey, why does he get dessert?" Olsen asked from the table where he and the rest of the children were eating their dinner.

"It's not dessert, it's medicine," Hogan said calmly.

"Looks like jellybeans," Olsen argued.

"Well they aren't."

Olsen looked from Hogan to Kinch, who was making horrible faces, and shrugged. "Okay," he said before turning back to his soup.

Well that was easy. None of the other children questioned Kinch's medicine, too intent on eating their food as loudly as they could. Hogan tensed as the sounds of slurping grated against his nerves. But he wasn't about to start a potential war over getting them to eat civilly. Instead, he marched into his room and shut the door firmly behind him.

Once in the quiet of his room, Hogan began to pace. The whole jellybean idea had better pay off, Hogan groused to himself. If it didn't he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do. Either way, he would have to wait until morning to find out so there was no use worrying about it now. There were problems he had to deal with at the moment. Like how he was going to deal with General Burkhalter.

There was no time to wait for Kinch to get back to normal. Even if his radioman was good to go in the morning, it would be too late for General Kinchmeyer to do anything.

They could always contact the underground and have them come up with something. Nope, that was out too. Hogan wasn't sure the radio was even working after Kinch had fiddled with it earlier. And if they waited until morning, the underground might not be able to pull anything together.

No radio meant no contacting London for an air raid either.

Hogan grunted in frustration. He was so use to having so many resources at his disposal. Now he had very few. Hell, he couldn't even use the most important part of his operation- his men.

He had other men, sure, but none of them had the qualifications or experience of his core team. Kinch, Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter were the best at what they did. They weren't easily replaced. But they were all out of commission now so there was no use griping- it wouldn't help him think of a solution.

Hogan stopped mid-step as a thought struck him. So far, all he could think about were the things he couldn't do with this situation. But there had to be some advantages to having a bunch of kids around.

Grabbing his elbows, Hogan rocked on his heels for a moment before continuing his pacing around the room. Maybe he could somehow distract Burkhlater using a few of the kids outside camp. Maybe…

No. It was too dangerous, wasn't it. What if he sent them out and they completely forgot what they were doing? The Gestapo would have no qualms about executing a bunch of kids, he was sure. But then again, who would ever suspect a bunch of kids in the middle of Germany as being Allied spies?

A knock at his door shook him from his thoughts. The door opened slightly as Carter poked his head into the room. "Colonel?"

"Yeah?"

"Schultz just brought Colonel Klink here," Carter reported.

Hogan sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, I'll be right out."

"You okay, Colonel?" Carter asked. "You look tired."

"I'm okay. Just past my bedtime," Hogan replied. "Come on, let's get Klink settled."

"Settled?" Carter repeated, a horrified look crossing his face. "You mean, he's spending the night?"

"Yeah. Look, don't ask. It wasn't really my idea."

Carter gave him an incredulous look. "Whose idea was it then?"

"Klink's."

"Klink's? You mean you let Kommandant Klink talk you into this?"

"I said don't ask," Hogan groaned. How exactly had Klink talked him into this anyway? Hogan shrugged. If anyone asked, he would just tell them the Kommandant had threatened him with life in the cooler. That sounded a whole lot better than saying Klink and his big eyes had Hogan wrapped around his little finger.

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz greeted with a salute when Hogan came into the common room. "Escorting Kommandant Klink to your hut as ordered."

"Fine, fine, Schultz," Hogan acknowledged with a lazy salute.

"Well, goodnight, Colonel Hogan," Schultz said as he moved to leave. He paused at the door and gave Hogan a little grin. "And good luck."

"Thanks a lot, Schultz," Hogan grumbled. He looked down at Klink who looked back expectantly. The Kommandant was clad in an oversized pyjama shirt and clutched a pillow and blanket in his hands.

"Blimey, wots he doing here with all that?" Newkirk asked suspiciously as he slid off the bench and ambled up to Klink. Klink took a small step closer to Hogan, watching Newkirk warily. "He spending the night?"

Hogan nodded and put a hand on Klink's shoulder. He quickly took it off and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah he is."

Newkirk looked like someone had smacked him. "You're barmy! Letting him stay here with us? He's the bleedin' Kommandant!"

"All right, all right, hold up!" Hogan hollered when Newkirk's statement caused the other men to kick up a ruckus of complaint. "Yes, the Kommandant is staying the night. Hopefully it'll help him remember what's going on around here." His explanation was met with a roomful of incredulous looks. "Look fellas, we have more important things to worry about right now."

"Like what?" Newkirk challenged.

"Like what we're going to do about General Burkhalter in the morning."

"Still haven't come up with anything, Colonel?" Carter asked.

"No. And there's no way we can let him see you all like this. Do you realize what the Krauts would do if they get a hold of this water?" There were some frightening possibilities to be considered.

"That's true," Kinch said from his bunk. "But what makes you think Klink and the guards aren't going to tell Burkhalter about the water anyway?"

"I'm pretty sure I can convince Klink to keep quiet," Hogan said with a shrug.

Newkirk snorted. "Couldn't even convince him to stay in his own quarters tonight."

Hogan shot Newkirk a pointed look. "All right, Newkirk, I'm not thrilled about it either, but it's not the end of the world. And I don't need you fighting me over it either."

"Yeah, lighten up, Newkirk," Olsen scolded.

"Nor do I need help from the peanut gallery, Olsen." Olsen pouted and looked down at his soup. Ah geez, now he felt like a heel. Since when did he develop such a guilty conscience?

"Colonel Hogan," Klink finally said, tugging on Hogan's pant leg. "What is going on?"

"Nothing," Hogan replied in German. "Just trying to figure out what we're going to do about General Burkhalter."

"He can't see me like this!" Klink exclaimed.

"Well he will if we don't think of anything." He looked back at his men. "All right, I need ideas."

There was a moment of silence before Carter perked up. "Say, why don't we just blow up the road leading to Stalag 13! I've got some nice sticks of dynamite down in the tunnel."

"Which you aren't allowed to use until you're back to normal," Hogan shot back. "Besides, that just might make Burkhalter or the Gestapo suspicious."

"Mon colonel," LeBeau piped up. "I… j'ai… " The little corporal scrunched up his face as if trying to figure out how to say what he wanted. Finally he sighed and stood up at his place on the bench. Puffing out his cheeks he moved his arm out over his stomach and then pointed to himself.

"You're General Burkhalter," Hogan guessed. LeBeau nodded and then pointed down to his soup. He took a sip of it and then clutched his throat before hopping off the bench. He twirled and spun about for a moment or so, making gagging noises before dramatically collapsing to the floor. He writhed about and then stilled, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

Hogan bit back a laugh. "Very theatrical, but we're not poisoning Burkhalter." LeBeau opened one eye and looked up at Hogan. "No, LeBeau. Non!" LeBeau scowled and picked himself off the ground, muttering to himself in French. "Look, we'd have to get him into camp to poison him anyway," Hogan explained, trying to make amends. "Besides, we can't just kill him. He's a pain, but what if we got stuck with someone even worse?"

LeBeau apparently didn't understand and continued to pout. Hogan sighed. "Any other ideas?" He was getting a headache.

"I know!" Carter exclaimed. "Why don't we give Burkhalter a glass of the water and have him turn into a kid too!"

"No!" Hogan cried abruptly. No way, no how! It was one thing to deal with kiddie Klink and his men, it was another to deal with a kiddie Burkhalter. "Besides, we don't want Burkhalter to find out about the water."

"Well why don't we…" Carter started but trailed off.

"Why don't we what?" Hogan prodded.

"It's silly," Carter admitted with a shrug, looking down at his feet and kicking an imaginary rock.

"Let's have it."

"Well, I remember when my cousin Tommy and me set up a lemonade stand last… in the summer… once. We set up on a main road and a bunch of people came. See, I was visiting him in the big city and it was sure hot and… well, why don't we do that? Set up a stand and drug Burkhalter's drink? Just knock him out for a while or something…"

"A lemonade stand's a little too American, don't you think?"

"I told you it was silly," Carter sighed.

"Yeah…" Hogan grabbed his chin and started to pace. "But it just might work. With a little modification."

"Really?"

"Really. The trick would be getting Burkhalter to stop at it."

"Just need to right incentive," Kinch said. He swiped his arm in front of him. "'Support General Kinchmeyer's much adored children. Fresh lemonade. Five cents. Cooled to perfection with thoughts of the Russian Front.'"

Hogan snorted. He really was going insane because he was seriously considering the whole scenario. He just had to find a way to make it work.