Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters
belongs to others and no infringement or
ownership is intended.
Marty Breedlove
Chapter 12
Best Laid Plans
Hegel looking at…nothing…raised his gun and fired.
The Corporal spun back around and raising his arm, brought it down, signaling for his men to fire, too!
A force of bullets shot out blindly into the blackness.
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Carter stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder.
"Ere, mate." The Englander tucked the explosives on the inside of the track between the ties and extended the end of the wire toward Carter. "Andrew, pay attention." Newkirk looked in the direction Carter was staring and frowned. Then, barely whispering, he asked, "Did you hear something?"
"No…I guess not." Carter turned back around and taking the wire, began tying it into the timer.
"Well, then, lets finish this before Kinch and LeBeau wonder what's taking us so long and come looking for us."
"Do you think they'll have any trouble cutting the communication lines feeding into Hammelburg?" Carter asked.
Newkirk grabbed his hat off his head and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. "They'd better not, ′cause when these tracks blow every goon for miles will be swarming all over this place."
Looking up, Carter nodded. "That's it; we've got ten minutes!"
Newkirk blinked back at him and urgently demanded, "Then let's get going!"
Carter smiled; it always rattled Newkirk to be standing next to a ticking timer. "Sure, um, which way's the footbridge from here?"
"Blimey Carter, how'd you ever get to be 'Little Deer who goes swift and sure through forest' if you get lost all the time?"
"Well…" Carter thought for a moment.
Newkirk's anxiety was mounting and he rolled his eyes. This was not the time for one of Carter's long-winded stories. "Never mind, we've got to get moving before these rails blow." His outburst surprised even him and, blushing, he added, "Kinch wants us on Stalag 13's side of the river before the action starts."
That said, Newkirk hurriedly turned to lead the way, missing the mischievous grin on Carter's face.
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LeBeau and Kinch finished their task and now waited at the rendezvous point for their two comrades.
"What is taking them so long?" Louis fretted. "They should be here!"
"We are here!" Carter stepped out of the shadows, and LeBeau broke into a smile that he immediately wiped off his face to give credit to his reprimand.
"What took you so long?" LeBeau demanded.
"What took us so long? Just because all you had to do was snip some bleeding wires! We had to…" Newkirk fumed.
"Quiet down! We have to get going." Kinch turned and silently began leading them closer to the foot bridge that would take them back across the river separating them from Stalag 13.
As they made their approach a lone guard loomed in front of them at the entrance to the bridge. Kinch motioned for everyone to drop down and indicated the barrier in front of them. Looking at his watch, he saw their time was running short if they were going to make it to the other side of the river before the explosions started.
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Rat…tat…tat…ping. Tat…tat…tat…tat…tat…zing…
What the…!
Adrenalin flowing, Hogan's heart raced, rushing oxygen to muscles and organs, preparing his body to…
Run, genius, before you become a hole in the ground!
Chips of limbs, tree bark, and clumps of snow pummeled him as he ran, listening to the pinging and ringing of bullets careening off of trees and rocks.
"Agh," he groaned as bits of wood stung his face as he ran without direction.
Find cover…now!
Desperately, his eyes darted across the dark snowscape while hot lead seared the skin over his left shoulder, as it went whizzing past his ear. Reflexively jerking his body in the opposite direction and lowering his head, he ran from tree to tree, skillfully twisting and dodging, trying to keep himself between the lead projectiles and the explosives at his waist.
Too many guns…
His left arm, seemingly of its own volition, suddenly flew forward, no longer cocooning the explosives at his waist.
What the… Looking down, his puzzled brain finally caught up with the exiting slug as the dispersing force wave reverberated through his body.
"Ugh!"
Simultaneously, fire exploded across his back, as the impact of another bullet sent him crashing down to his knees, flipping him into a diagonal roll, leaving him flat on his back with a moan.
"Mmm."
Immediately forcing himself back up on his knees, shock spread through him, drenching his face in sweat. He painfully pulled his errant left arm back over the bulging bundles still nestled inside his jacket, and, blinking, forced his eyes to focus and survey the damage. Blood was everywhere. It dripped off his injured arm as he traced the damage back to his left side. Disgusted with himself for getting shot, he commanded…
Stay on your feet!
Pulling his right knee up, he stubbornly planted his foot squarely on the ground, and forced his left foot forward. The earth pitched and rolled as he fought to stay conscious. Desperately needing to disappear, he propelled himself over what he made out to be the edge of a shallow embankment and limply rolled into a dip in the forest floor coming to rest against a fallen tree.
"Ahh!" A fire storm of pain shot through his battered body. His world spun and he closed his eyes to fight back the nausea, as bullets continued to whiz over head.
And then, suddenly…it was quiet.
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The German squad shot into the darkness.
The Corporal fired incessantly, changing directions with each squeeze of the trigger and straining to see through the smoke- and steam-filled air. The snap and pow of the hammer and gunpowder flashed off the tip of his gun, creating a wild and insane dance of fire and smoke in a deafening chorus.
Time seemed to go into slow motion. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the men under his command in various crouching and lunging positions, firing as wildly as he was.
"Halt!" Hegel raised his arm and brought it down in a stop motion. "Cease firing!"
The echoes were still reverberating through the woods when Hochstetter caught up and stormed through the patrol to where Hegel stood, arm hanging at his side, gun pointing at the ground.
"Where are they?" Hochstetter looked beyond Hegel, his own gun pointing into the snow-filled night searching for a target to fire on.
"False alarm, Major Hochstetter. I saw movement and fired before I realized it was only a rabbit." Gesturing to the patrol that was with him he continued, "These men started firing before I could stop them." It was all Hegel could do to look sincere. His plan should work He had lulled Hochstetter away from the side of the forest where he had seen what he believed to be Underground activity. This ought to guarantee Hochstetter will come up empty handed.
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Heart beating wildly, breathing labored, Hogan clutched at the agony in his side and opened his eyes, struggling to hear the inevitable approach of the enemy over the ringing in his ears.
But instead…
Voices?
Hogan held his breath and listened.
Yeah…talking…but what are they saying? He couldn't quite make it out. They don't seem to be getting any closer…at least not yet.
He exhaled. If he could act now, while they were reconnoitering, perhaps…
Got to move…got to…
Attempting to lean forward he fell back with a moan and closed his eyes, as another spasm of pain forced him to bite his lip to keep from crying out.
His body wasn't cooperating. He tried again, but his muscles had liquefied. He needed time. Time to pull himself together, time…he didn't have. He had no choice but to wait for the enemy to come and collect him. Sorry guys, he apologized. His whole body tingled as the cold snow melted on his face, keeping him conscious, for which he was grateful. If he was leaving this world by Hochstetter's hand, at least he'd like to see it coming. He wished he could offer the same advantage to his men. Once Hochstetter identified him, his men would have to run for their lives.
His right hand pressed into his side. He could feel the blood oozing between his fingers. Looking up, he caught a brief glimpse of the heavens, as the moon shone through a break in the clouds, and a small smart-aleck smirk twisted at the corner of his lips. Next time...You take point!
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Lutz back at the spot where he and Tiger had watched the trucks going in and out of the woods on the road leading to the suspected factory, peered over the rim of the hill. It was quiet. Relieved, he was about to slip over the crest and work his way down when…
Gunfire! He snapped his head in the direction of the noise.
"No!" The word spilled out with determination as if to will this not to be happening. And then, suddenly, as if obeying his order, the multiple rapid firing of guns stopped.
Lutz rolled over and slid down under the crest of the hill.
That's not a good sign. There should have…would have…been more of an exchange unless the Gestapo got the drop on them…and… Lutz took in a sobering breath, but the luxury of exhaling was ripped away as the sky he was staring at suddenly rumbled and lit with fire. Gasping his breath in deeper, he pressed himself back into the side of the hill, instinctively shying away from the explosions.
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