No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended. The character of Joe Wilson belongs to L. J. Groundwater.

Chapter Eleven: Klink's Office

"…so you see, Klink," said Burkhalter, his expansive stomach protruding as he leaned back in Klink's own chair as Hogan let himself into the office, "…your little phone call to Luftwaffe High Command was ill advised."

"But I have a responsibility to my men," Klink whined. "I was thinking only of them!"

Klink was sitting on the edge of one of the office chairs and Schmedler was plying his stethoscope on the colonel's bared chest. Hogan smirked as he noticed how Burkhalter was carefully not looking in that direction.

"Bah!" Hochstetter burst out. "You were thinking only of yourself! I should have you shot…"

At that, Klink sat upright, waving Schmedler away. "You can't do that… I was just doing my duty… General Burkhalter, tell him he can't do that!"

Burkhalter sighed, his eyes closed. "Sometimes, Klink, I wish I could let him."

"Yes, but then he remembers your perfect record, Kommandant," Hogan chimed in. "And then he realizes how important you are to the Reich!"

Burkhalter burst out laughing. "Important… a POW Kommandant?"

Hochstetter, however, was not amused. "What is this man doing here?" he demanded. "Hogan, how did you get in here?"

"Well, I looked around for Helga but she wasn't there," Hogan said. "She sick, Kommandant? My men would like to send her a card if she's sick. We like Helga."

"She's… I don't know," Klink muttered. Schmedler was looking into his ears. Hogan felt a flash of sympathy for the German colonel — it must feel embarrassing to be examined in this way in front of others, particularly when the doctor was making such disapproving noises as he conducted the exam.

"She's been assigned elsewhere — just for a few days," Hochstetter snapped. "So you can save your sympathy, Hogan."

"Assigned elsewhere?" Klink said, blinking rapidly. "What do you mean, Major? By whose authority?"

"By mine," Burkhalter said smugly, stretching a little. "Doctor, what have you to report?"

Schmedler straightened up, looking a little worried. "Too many side-effects. Tinnitus, heart palpitations, swollen glands, headache."

"Well, if we were to keep dosing Germans, that would be of concern to us, doctor," Burkhalter nodded. "But as it is…"

"General!" Hochstetter burst out. "Must I remind you that this is a top-secret project? And that we have an enemy of the Reich right here in the room with us? Not to mention a complete and total numbskull?" he added, looking balefully over at Klink.

"Hey," Hogan called out, indignantly, "who are you calling a complete and total numbskull?"

"He means me, Hogan," Klink admitted wearily.

"Oh, that's all right then," Hogan grinned as though relieved.

"Yes, that's all right… well, no, it is not!" Klink said, his own indignation rearing up. "Major, you should apologize for that!"

"Bah!" Hochstetter called out.

"In any case, Major," Burkhalter said, interrupting the incipient spat, "it is up to me to decide on the risks of Hogan — and even Klink — knowing what is going on."

"That man is the most dangerous…!" Hochstetter stopped mid-exclamation, seeing Burkhalter's eyebrows raise. "As you say, General," he capitulated, his face drawn into an uncomfortable simper. "As you say."

"Hogan, have your men been feeling poorly lately, like Klink and many of the guards?" Burkhalter asked him. Schmedler inched closer, his stethoscope in his hand, pointing it at Hogan.

Hogan instinctively backed away from the doctor. "We've been the same, General. Whatever it is you're doping my men with has been making us feel quite ill. It's a violation of the Geneva Convention to use my men as guinea pigs in this way, you know."

Burkhalter smiled broadly. Hogan often wondered if the scar the General wore so prominently on his face — his trophy from his Heidelberg years — ever hurt him when he creased it like that.

"When we Germans win the war, Hogan, there will be no more Geneva Convention. So it doesn't bother me to violate it now."

"Well, sure, if you win," Hogan said musingly. "And I guess if you don't, you'll be hung for war crimes anyway, won't you? So I can see why it doesn't bother you."

Burkhalter's smile faltered, then flared out more widely than before. "He who lives shall see, Hogan," he said philosophically.

"We're wasting valuable time," Hochstetter muttered.

Burkhalter sat up, pushing the chair back and smacking his hands flat on Klink's desk. Klink jumped a little at the unexpected noise. "True," said the General. "Hogan, we have no time for you now."

"Hogan, disss-missed," Klink said in his most authoritative tones.

Hogan shrugged. "Okay, Kommandant. I just wanted to tell you that I'm afraid I can't control those of my men who have been waking up early." He turned and began to walk out.

"Who have…what?" Hochstetter cried out, clearly taken aback. Hogan kept walking.

"Hogan!" Klink called. Hogan paused ever so slightly, then kept going — more slowly now.

"Hogan!" boomed Burkhalter. "Halt or I'll have you shot!"

Hogan turned back, pretending surprise. "What? Oh, sorry, General. I thought I was dismissed."

"What do you mean, Hogan — those men who have been waking up early?" Burkhalter asked.

"Well, you know. The drug seems to ease off some guys earlier than others. Not the Germans, though," Hogan smirked. "We started to notice that it was always the POWs who got up first. And then the escape committee met…"

"Klink!" Burkhalter boomed at him. "Why do you permit these men to have an escape committee?"

"Why, General, they don't tell me when they meet," poor Klink stammered.

Burkhalter shook his head impatiently. "Idiot!" He sighed. "How much earlier do you POWs wake up, Hogan?" he asked

"Earlier and earlier. Last time, it was almost a day earlier. Why, we could have waved goodbye to your trucks as they drove out of camp, Major."

"Could have… waved goodbye… to our trucks?" Hochstetter gasped, appalled.

"Sure, you know, Major. That long row of military vehicles you brought in here while we were all sleeping."

Hochstetter's eyes flashed. "Doctor! Do you hear that?"

"It is inconceivable, Major. The dosage has been raised each time," Schmedler stated flatly. "I will need to conduct some tests on these men."

Burkhalter leaned over Klink's desk. "I think our good Colonel Hogan is bluffing," he said.

"Bluffing? Me? Nah. I'm a lousy poker hand. Ask any of my guys."

"Colonel Hogan, if the General says you are bluffing…" Klink started.

"Shut up, Klink," Burkhalter interrupted him. "Hogan. Admit it. You saw the treads left in the frozen ground from the convoy and decided to make us all worry a little in here. It was very clever but it didn't fool me," he added smugly.

Hogan shrugged. "If you say so, General Burkhalter. All I can say is, you need to be careful there isn't a mass escape around here the next time we all fall asleep."

"Major! You will post extra guards on Hogan and his men while they are sleeping! There, Colonel, that should take care of your little prison break."

"But I must examine them!" Schmedler said. "If they are becoming immune to the dosage, it will require additional calibrations."

"And you will have your chance, Doctor," Burkhalter said. "Hogan will permit you to examine him now."

"Yes!" Hochstetter crowed. "That will give us some answers. Go right ahead, Doctor."

"Hey!" Hogan cried out. "I'm not letting him paw me again. That quack…."

"Hogan," Klink ordered, "you will do as you are told. Let the quack paw you."

"Klink!" Burkhalter boomed out. Klink, startled, looked at him like a deer in headlights. Burkhalter shook his head. "Forgive him, doctor. He's an idiot."

"Yes, yes," Klink nodded, wearily, sinking down into his chair with his hand waving in surrender to his dignity. "I'm an idiot."

"And a very unhealthy one at that," Schmedler muttered beneath his breath, fumbling in his bag for his instruments. "Come over here, Hogan."

"Can't a guy have some privacy?" Hogan whined. "I mean, really!"

"If a colonel of the Reich can submit to a public examination, Hogan, you can, too," Burkhalter told him. "Go ahead, doctor."

The doctor brought his bag close to Hogan, opening it and setting it close to him. Hogan saw a flash of green inside the bottom of the bag. The American colonel winced as the doctor's sour breath bathed his face while he looked into his eyes and then his ears. Then Schmedler told Hogan to strip off his shirt.

Hogan seemed to have trouble with his shirt button — the sleeve got caught and the entire shirt somehow got spread over the doctor's bag for a moment before he managed to free himself. Tsking in irritation, Hogan bundled up the shirt and pushed it beside him. Then he settled down, complying with the examination.

Schmedler took his time and it was nearly a half hour later that Hogan was finally dismissed. He whistled as he walked out the door and saw Newkirk on the porch, sweeping.

"Take this to DuBois," he said, slipping him a vial of the antidote. "Tell him he needs to come up with enough for the entire camp by tonight."

"I'm proud of you, sir," Newkirk told him, beaming. "The shirt trick I taught you?"

Hogan laughed. "Go on. We haven't much time."