No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.

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A little inaccuracy sometimes saves tons of explanation.

—Saki

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Chapter Fourteen

Half-Truths and Good Friends

As soon as Hogan left the room for his morning session with Wheeler, Newkirk picked up the telephone and started dialing. He didn't have the number memorized, so it took a few minutes for the long-distance operator to connect him with a certain home in Detroit. This could get tricky; Kinch was almost as good as Hogan at seeing right through me. Have to give it my best shot, then.

A voice muffled by sleep answered. "Hello?"

"Oh, blimey." Newkirk shook his head. "I didn't wake you, did I, mate?"

"Who's this? Newkirk? Peter, is that you?"

"Yeah, Kinch, it's me. Sorry if I got you up, but I didn't think you'd still be asleep so late." Newkirk glanced at the wall clock, confirming that it really did say eight o'clock.

Newkirk could hear a yawn being stifled through the phone line. "I'm not usually, but I've been working overtime in anticipation of your visit. I got off the graveyard shift about three hours ago, and... it's a little earlier where I am than where you are."

"Kinch, I... that's what I'm callin' you about. It looks like I may not be getting out to see you this time around."

The voice on the other end of the line grew concerned. Newkirk could picture Kinch's furrowed brow even as the man spoke. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah." The Englishman paused. "No, not really. You remember General Barton, Kinch? I went to this retirement party for him with the gov'nor nor a few nights ago. Well, after it was all said and done, I wound up driving us home because Rob was a bit too tired and..." Newkirk's voice trailed off, leaving silence on the phone line.

"And what?" Kinch asked immediately. Newkirk didn't answer right away. "And what?" Kinch repeated. The voice was getting more and more urgent. "Peter, what's going on? Is the Colonel all right?"

Newkirk noted that Kinch had also called Hogan "the Colonel." Funny, he thought, no matter how far the man goes, he'll always be "Colonel Hogan" to us. He hauled his thoughts back to his clearly anxious friend on the phone. "Oh, right. Sorry about that, mate." Gotta watch that; James Kinchloe is far too sharp a man for me wits to be off wandering just now. "The Colonel's fine; he just took a few hard knocks is all. I was driving, we got sideswiped and next thing I know I've smashed into a tree. I think I totally ruined the car in the process."

Kinch didn't seem convinced. "That's doesn't sound very good, Peter. Are you sure it's just 'a few hard knocks'? What happened to him? And what about you? Where are you?"

"Easy, Kinch, easy. We're both still in hospital, but it's the doctors being cautious on account of both of us getting knocked out for a while. That and I picked up a pretty nasty cough from being out in the snow a bit too long. Just don't go getting' the wind up, mate, we're both gonna come out all right in the end." Newkirk laughed softly. "That is, if we don't wind up driving each other round the bend before they give us the boot." Come on, Kinch. Listen to what I'm saying and don't dig too deeply into it.

But Kinch was more perceptive that Newkirk would have liked. "Going to come out okay? Knocked out for awhile? Peter, it doesn't sound like everything's fantastic over there. You're doing that little two-step you learned while we were in camp; I can hear it."

"There's nothing more to tell, mate. I smashed the Colonel's car and made a total mess of things with it. We both got banged up a good bit, and as I said, I picked up a little extra from being wet and cold longer than was good for me. As for doing any kind of two-step as you put it—the only two-step I'm doing is trying to dodge the local peelers. It seems they aren't taking too kindly to a visitor from London having been behind the wheel in a smash up."

Kinch's voice betrayed his doubt. "I don't know, Peter. It seems like an awfully long time to be in the hospital for a bit of a cough and a bang-up." He sighed. "Still, if you're not going to tell me anything, there's not much I can do about it. Can I talk to him?"

"He's having a bit of a kip just now, and you know how grouchy he can be when he wakes up. Tell you what, when he's up, I'll have him call you." Newkirk sighed softly. "Look, Kinch, I'm real sorry about spoiling everything we've been planning, but I'm going to stick around here until everything's straightened out. I don't feel right leaving the Colonel to deal with my mess with the car and all."

A short silence indicated Kinch was debating his answer. "All right, Peter," he answered eventually. "You know, it sounds like the weather was pretty bad over there, I doubt Rob would blame you for what happened with the car." A pause. "Unless you decided to drive like they do in London—they're crazy!"

"Oh do me a favor, mate! It's you lot that drive on the wrong side of the road!" Newkirk smiled as it seemed that Kinch was going to accept what he'd been saying—whether he believed it or not. "And before you say it, yes, I was driving on the right. But then, so was the bleedin' idiot that hit us!"

"Well, then, that's all there is to it. I'm disappointed, of course, but I understand. Make sure you look after Rob—and after yourself, all right? Maybe you can come when you're through there, or later in the year, if Jillian will let you out. Or maybe she'd actually come with you!"

"Yeah, we'll try to work it better next time so she can come along. In any case, after this little adventure, she may not let me out alone anymore." Laughing quietly, Newkirk went on. "If things settle here, I'll try to stop up for at least a day or so before I go home, but I'll definitely ring you before I do. Otherwise, I reckon we'll have to take another shot at it later on."

"Okay, Peter," Kinch said. "I'm glad you called. And hey—it's still great talking to you, man. You keep in touch."

"Always, mate. And who knows, we might be able to work things around so you can make the trip across the Pond yourself one of these days. You take care of yourself, James."

"Will do."

Newkirk said his good-byes and hung up the phone. That could have gone better, but at least Kinch isn't going to take the next bus down here. I hope. He leaned back, taking a few minutes to catch his breath before making his next call.

Another round of business with the long-distance operators, and Newkirk waited for Andrew Carter to pick up the phone. Let's see how this goes.

It was answered on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hallo, Andrew, it's Peter. How did your exams go?" Newkirk smiled to himself. Get Carter's attention on something else first, and he's usually easier to keep sidetracked. Let's hope that's still the case.

The puppy-like enthusiasm that was Carter bubbled through the line. "Peter! Hey, buddy! Good to hear from you! They've gone great—I think! Won't have the results for another week, though. What are you up to?"

"I'm sure you've done well, mate, and you'll be a real chemist before you know it. I'd love to be there to celebrate with you, but I've come onto a bit of a problem here in Washington."

"What kind of problem?" The buoyancy in Carter's voice dropped slightly. "You mean you can't come out to Muncie?"

"That's how it looks right now, Andrew. The Colonel and I were out late the other night, and I was driving because he was a bit tired, and, well, I smashed up the car. But don't worry," Newkirk went on without giving Carter a chance to speak up. "We're both fine; the doctors are just keeping us in hospital a few days to make sure, so I don't know exactly when I'll be able to travel on."

"Oh." All the cheerfulness was gone now. "Gee, I was looking forward to seeing ya, buddy," Carter said. "But you said you're in the hospital—are you sure you should be on the phone? I mean, are you too sick to be up like this?"

"At ease, Carter." Newkirk grinned as he quoted a line that Hogan had frequently used when the young Sergeant had taken off on a conversational tangent. "I'm quite up to being on the phone for a bit. To tell the truth, I think the doctors are glad I'm staying in one spot for a while; I think the gov'nor and I are gettin' on their nerves or something."

"How is he—the Colonel?" Carter asked. "He's not usually one to stay down for very long. Is he okay?"

"He's gonna be fine, mate. He's just getting in a few extra days of rest while he's got the chance."

Carter's voice gave away his suspicion. "Colonel Hogan never takes extra time," he said, unthinkingly referring to Hogan by his old rank—whenever he thought of Hogan, the former demolitions expert couldn't help but place the man on a pedestal, and that meant maintaining his status as "Colonel" and head of the no-longer-existent operation they all worked in at Stalag 13. "Are you sure the doctors didn't miss anything?"

"I'm sure. The gov'nor's all right, Andrew." Newkirk put as much sincerity into his voice as he could. "I was just ringing to let you know what's happened, that's all, and to tell you I might not be able to make it out to see you on this trip."

"Gee," Carter's disappointed voice sighed down the phone line. "Okay. Well, as long as you and the Colonel are all right," he said. "I'll be sorry to miss ya."

"I was looking forward to it as well. Maybe we can make arrangements later on and try again soon. However, if you get some time between classes, I'd really like for you to come visit London, and I promise to show you all around a real city."

Carter chuckled, a musical sound to Newkirk after Carter's disappointment. "I've already seen it, Peter. You were there with me, remember? I saw the zoo, and Hyde Park… and even that pub you said I had to try that warm beer at. That was disgusting."

Newkirk laughed in relief. I got through this one all right. "You just have no appreciation for a real pint is all, Andrew. Would it help if I mentioned that the zoo has finished making repairs and has all the animals back where they belong?"

"Are they really? Oh, boy!" Carter replied. "I'll be there just as soon as you say, boy—that is, if I'm not busy—y'know at a drug store—well that is, if I pass my exams. I mean I think I will but you never know and—" Carter stopped himself. His grin was visible in his voice. "I mean, yeah, I'd love to come. Sorry you can't make it out now, but we'll manage some time soon. Say hi to the Colonel for me, would ya?"

"You'll pass, Andrew, and you're always welcome to come whenever you can. I'll certainly say hi to the Colonel for you, mate."

"And you're sure he's okay? You promise?" Carter asked once more.

"Yes, Andrew. I promise."

"Well, okay. I'd better go, then, I still have some stuff to do before I go into work this morning. When you want to let me know what it is you're not telling me, you call me right back, okay? I don't want to have to worry about you guys." And before Newkirk could recover from his surprise enough to respond, Carter said his final cheerful, knowing goodbye, and hung up.

Newkirk placed the handset on its cradle, and sat staring at the phone in amazement. I should have known better than to think I could really fool either of them.

The Englishman shook his head and put the phone back onto the bedside table. "It's a good thing I'm not trying to make my living as an actor, isn't it?" He laughed quietly at himself. "And I'm talking to myself again."