Thinking his services were no longer needed, Schell had originally planned to return to Berlin that night. However, the plans Hogan and Anders had made to capture Pretzel sounded dangerous enough that he decided he had better postpone his trip another day "just in case."

While Schell treated Lang's injuries, Hogan and Anders examined Gottfried's lab book in the privacy of Hogan's office.

"Labs, crematoriums, barracks, arms magazines, farms, autopsy facilities, dissection facilities, holding cells. This looks like a plan for a complete biological experimentation facility," commented Anders.

"Take a look at this," Hogan read, "Anthrax, plague, typhoid, smallpox, the list goes on and on. Gottfried planned to look at every known thing under the sun. Look at the experiments he planned to perform. Not just on animals, but humans as well. 'Dissect healthy subjects to establish a baseline, inject subjects with pathogen, observe reaction of subjects to pathogen, tie healthy subjects to stakes given distances from a pathogen release point, release pathogens, study proximity affect of pathogens on the subjects, dissect subjects.' Sometimes he's dissecting them while they are still alive. All right outside Cologne, in our backyard. This is disgusting! Here, see for yourself."

Hogan passed the book to Anders.

Anders read the book in silence, not believing what he was seeing. He was so sure Hitler and, thus, Germany were anti-offensive bio. With his own ears he had heard the proclamations; yet here, undeniably, in black and white, were detailed plans for a very elaborate, very thorough offensive bio program. Gottfried had clearly been insane, even for a Gestapo officer. But, was this the work of a deranged officer, or was it possible Himmler had decided to launch an offensive bio program on his own initiative? It all ran counter to the facts. Anders pondered the question briefly. He read on, and then paused.

"I think you'd better take a look at this," he said quietly.

Hogan took the book and read the passage Anders pointed out to him. He turned pale.

"Gottfried planned to use Stalag 13 as a source for human subjects!"

Numb, Hogan put the book down on his desk, walked over to the window, cracked the shutters, and stared. He stared at the rows of barracks. He thought about the men sleeping inside, clueless to their potential fates. These were the same men who depended on Hogan to keep them safe. The thought of his men as the objects of Gottfried's perverse experiments made him physically ill. Suddenly the camp became smaller, more stifling than ever before.

Air, he needed air. Even in death Gottfried haunted him, choking him. Hogan wanted to run across the barracks, down the tunnel, out the emergency tunnel, and take the escape route back to England where he could breathe again, where he could be free from Gotffried and his terrors. But not free from the men who trusted him and depended on him, not free from himself!

Hogan's mind was drawn back to that brief moment in time shortly after his poisoning, when Hogan was so sure he was dying. Hogan remembered his regrets at not having adequately provided for his men. It seemed Hogan was being given a second chance, and he was not a man to make the same mistake twice. When he spoke, Hogan's voice bore the full weight of the responsibility he shouldered, strong and determined.

"I need to come up with an evacuation plan," Hogan announced still staring out the window.

Anders nodded in acknowledgment of Hogan's responsibility to the men in his charge. Mike had always worked alone. He couldn't image what it was like to carry the responsibility for other men's lives on a daily basis. He certainly didn't envy his friend in that regard. As Hogan, deep in thought, continued staring out the window, Mike walked over and put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Robert," he said softly. "Do what you must. An evacuation plan is an excellent idea. But before you make your final decision, let me give you the benefit of my intelligence and observation in this area.

"Hitler has been very adamant with his general staff 'No offensive biological warfare!' period, end of statement. The little funding that has been provided for biological warfare is strictly for defensive research, troop protection. Even so, there are no faculties dedicated solely to biological efforts. These efforts are performed mainly at chemical warfare installations. It's true Himmler is very much pro-offensive bio, but he is a minority and does not have Hitler's support. He doesn't even have the full support of his closest associates. Colonels Brandt and Klumm have both spoken out against it.(22) So I can't see Himmler or anybody else starting any major biological program, especially one of the magnitude Gottfried had proposed. Even if Gotffried were still alive, I doubt it would have gotten the support to be implemented. Too many people in high places are against it. Gottfried was a rogue.

"Even so, I can't stand here and tell you Gottfried couldn't have eventually convinced the high command to fund his program. I can't tell you somebody else in the future won't, or that the inmates of Stalag 13 will never be subjected to the inhumane experiments Gottfried proposed. But I can tell you this: I don't think it's likely to happen. Not in the near future, anyway. Whether or not the risk warrants evacuation of the camp, that's a decision you're better qualified to make than I. Just know that whatever decision you make, you have my full support."

There was a knock on the door announcing Carter's entrance.

"'Scuse me sirs, but Kinch just made contact with London. They are sending a plane tomorrow night to pick up Lang and the notebook. They want agent Anders to take possession of the notebook and accompany him. "

"Ok," Hogan replied, letting out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding, "Acknowledge orders. Tell London they'll be there, all three."

"Three, sir?"

"Yeah. Lang, Anders, and the notebook."

"Oh! Right, sir!"

"I can stay if you like. As long as London gets the book, I suspect they could care less what Lang or I do," Mike said as Carter left to relay Hogan's order to Kinch in the radio room.

"Stay and do what?"

"Help you evacuate camp."

"Who said I was going to evacuate camp?" Hogan responded with a twinkle in his eye.

"You did! A few minutes ago."

"No, I said I needed a plan," Hogan corrected. "I didn't say I was going to do it."

"So you're going to stay?"

"Like you said, the odds of anybody implementing a plan of the magnitude of Gottfried's in the near future are pretty small. There is no use in bailing out if we don't have to. Besides," the twinkle in Hogan's eyes broadened into a mischievous gleam, "Now that we know the plan, we can do something if they do decide to implement it."

Now, that was the Robert Mike had known most of his life — think big and never admit defeat. Maybe that was why he was so successful. Maybe that was why Mike had always liked him.

"There's a farm on the Hammelburg road with a couple nice horses. It's only 2400; the guys will be going to bed soon. Wanna race?"

Mike met Hogan's impish grin with one of his own. It had been a long time since he had raced horses, a LONG time.

Hogan and Anders spent most of the next day squirreled away in Hogan's office. Every so often the sounds of laughter would break through into the common room.

"Now, what do you suppose is going on in there?" Newkirk inquired, nodding toward Hogan's area.

"Top level strategy meeting?" suggested Carter.

"Nah, too much laughing. Strategy meetings are boring," LeBeau explained.

"How do you know? Have you ever been to one?"

"That's why it's called a meeting, because it's boring. If it was fun it would be called a party," Newkirk chimed in.

As darkness descended upon the camp, its permanent occupants began saying good-bye to their guests. Schell was the first to go.

"Doctor," Anders spoke first. "Thanks for everything."

"Yes, thank you very much," echoed Lang.

"I was glad I could be of help."

"If you are ever in this area again look us up. We're in the yellow pages under 'twenty-four hour service,'" Newkirk quipped.

"But leave the pufferfish at home," added Hogan.

Schell laughed, "Gladly. It's been a pleasure working with you men. Although I must admit, I wish it could have been under different circumstances. I hope my knowledge of pufferfish poison never has to be used this way again."

"I'll buy that! Doc, thanks again. LeBeau, take him out," Hogan ordered.

"Auf Wiedersehen," Schell replied.

A chorus of good-byes followed Schell as he and LeBeau went out the tunnel.

The next checkouts from the Stalag 13 hotel were Anders and Lang.

"Thank you, Colonel Hogan, for getting me out of Germany and saving my life."

"Well, as I recall, you saved my life also, so I guess that makes us even. Besides, some of the information in that notebook will be very useful to London."

"I just hope someday to be able to return to a Germany like I remember from my childhood."

"That's what we all hope," responded Anders.

"Germany was not always what it is now. Not all Germans are like the Nazis. Most are basically good people. They have been misguided." Just like me.

For Hogan's men, saying good-bye to Anders was especially hard. In the few days he had been in camp, he had become like one of the family. By saving Colonel Hogan's life, he had definitely saved their operation, quite possibly saving each of their lives and who knew how many more.

"Colonel, you've got a good group of men here. Men, I've enjoyed working with you. Keep up the good work." Mike shook each man's hand. "Take care of that old mule there," Mike said, nodding at Hogan. Hogan's response was a dirty look to end all dirty looks. "Take care of him, so I don't have to come back. I know he has nine lives, but I don't want to make a career out of saving each of them."

"Don't worry, we will," replied Kinch, "but you're more than welcome anytime. You don't need a reason."

"Just leave your Nazi turncoat buddies in Berlin where we can bomb them. I have better things to do with my time than to deal with your traitors," quipped Hogan.

Mike grinned.

"Ok, Carter, Newkirk, escort Lang and Anders to their plane.

"This way, gents."

Midway up the ladder Mike stopped and yelled, "Oh, Hogan," Hogan looked at him. "Take care of my bike!"

This time it was Hogan's turn to grin.

"My bike."

"Flip you for it after the war," Mike said and hastily exited the tunnel before Hogan could retort.

Kinch gave Hogan a puzzled look. "What was that all about?"

"Private joke," Hogan replied, climbing the ladder into the barracks. There was still one loose end he had to tie up.

Kinch contemplated the comment. From the moment Hogan had begun to come out from under the influence of the poison, he and Anders had hit it off amazingly well. It was almost like they had known each other all their lives. Hmm! Why shouldn't they hit it off, the colonel was a likeable person and so was Anders. Person! Kinch realized this was the first time since he had known Hogan that he had thought of him in terms of being a person as opposed to being an officer or "the colonel."

Kinch wondered what the colonel's life was really like. As the senior Allied officer in the area, Hogan shouldered the responsibility for the coordination of all the underground activity in the area as well as for his own unit. As senior officer of the camp, he was responsible for the well-being of every man in the camp. It was a delicate balancing act, and one which Hogan performed admirably without the benefit of a second-in-command. Kinch and the other guys worked hard and they accomplished a lot, but basically they followed orders. It was Hogan on whose shoulders it fell to give the orders and come up with the ideas. It was Hogan on whom the Nazis focused their attention when they had suspicions. It was Hogan and Hogan alone. And as this latest experience had taught Kinch, the consequences of a mistake or an error in judgment on his part could be dire.

For Robert Hogan the human being, life with those kinds of responsibilities had to be tough. Kinch couldn't understand how the colonel held up because he knew he, himself, couldn't. Outside of Klink and Crittendon (who really didn't count because Klink was the enemy, and Crittendon was just another problem), Anders was the first person to come through camp anywhere near Hogan's rank or intelligence. He was the first person to whom Hogan could be a person and not an officer. The first person the colonel could relate to as a human being.

Kinch could and would do anything he could to make the colonel's life easier and help him, but he could neither make the decisions nor help shoulder the responsibility. Worst of all, the rank barrier prevented him from being what the colonel needed most — a friend. Kinch hoped that someday, somebody a little less transient would come to camp that could fill the friendship role. In the meantime, Kinch made a promise to himself to take a page from Tiptoe's book and pray everyday, not only for himself, but also the other guys — and especially for the colonel.

Authors Note: Although there is one last chapter before this story is complete, I wanted to comment on a few of the assumptions in this story. In WWII both the Axis and the Allies believed the other side to be more advanced and involved in biological warfare than in reality they were. It is also true that Hitler and most of his general staff were adamantly against offensive biological warfare of any nature. A little known fact is that the Japanese had a very active offensive biological warfare program in place. Most of the atrocities I use in this story were realities in Japan. The character of Emil Gottfried that I created for this story has much in common with the real life General Ishii Shiro who commanded the infamous Unit 731 in Japan. For those readers interested in more information about the Japanese biological efforts I recommend reading Factories of Death: Japanese Biological Warfare, 1932-45 and the American Cover-up by Sheldon H. Harris. A word of warning, this book is not for the faint of heart.

(22) SIPRI Chemical and Biological Warfare Studies. Vol 18. Biological and Toxic Weapons Use from the Middle Ages to 1945. Oxford Press. 1999