Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters

belongs to others and no infringement or

ownership is intended.

Marty Breedlove

Chapter 25

Ours Is Not To Reason Why…

Running an Underground organization… Assists Allied prisoners to escape… Has a network of tunnels under Stalag 13… Klink's office is wired… A cache of uniforms… Radio contact with London…

Hegel read through the report from Leutnant Kroger, alias Sergeant Williams for the fifth time and shook his head. All this right under Klink's nose and the fool has no idea! The Fatherland will soon be well rid of Klink, and this American Colonel.

Swinging his legs up onto his desk, Hegel took a mouthful of what had become his favorite reward for a job well done, cognac. The brandy rolled over his tongue and slid smoothly and effortlessly down his throat, radiating warmth as it went. Hegel leaned back in his chair.

All that remains is to decide how to expose this American Colonel. I could present my information to Himmler… Mmm, but then he would present it to the Fuhrer as his discovery… No, this is too big for that…

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come in," Hegel slid his feet to the floor. "Ah, Myra, do you have Leutnant Kroger's transfer papers ready?"

Lovely long legs glided across the room, depositing the blond secretary at Hegel's side.

"I do, Herr Major. All I need is your signature."

Picking up his pen Hegel smiled. "Myra, darling, what would I ever do without you?"

"For one thing, your nights would be a lot… colder." The answer playfully escaped from between her ruby lips, prompting a glance from Hegel.

Oh, you want to play a little cat and mouse. Reaching up, he pulled Myra onto his lap and stole a kiss. Just so you know who the mouse is.

"When are you going to put a diamond on my finger?" she purred in deviance, waving her left hand under his nose.

"Myra," Hegel teased. "is a diamond all that important when we have each other?" Hegel pursed his lips as Myra gently traced their outline with her finger.

"Don't you want to make a respectable woman out of me?" Pouting, she stood and picked up the transfer papers. Then, swaying her hips seductively, she retreated to the door.

Hegel smiled appreciatively and promised, "I'll take you someplace nice to eat tonight. Surely that will make you happy."

Looking back over her shoulder, she teased. "I guess it will have to do… for now."

Hegel stared at the closed door. It will have to do, period. You're fun, Myra, but that is as far as it goes. He poured himself another brandy and smirked. What is it with women? You take them out a few times and they think you want to marry them. A diamond indeed…

Hegel stopped, riveted in place as an idea formed in the cold calculating recesses of his mind. Diamonds? Yes… diamonds! Not traceable. Small enough to smuggle out of the country. The smirk changed to a full-fledged grin. Yes, that's it!

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Hogan curled the fingers of his left hand inward, forcing the pliable clay in his palm to ooze out between his knuckles. This ridiculous exercise was causing the muscle on the back of his arm that had been so badly torn by the misshapen ricocheting bullet, to burn with the effort. This is Wilson's idea of therapy? A sudden sharp pinch in his upper arm added a few more beads of perspiration to his already damp forehead.

"Ugh." A grunt slipped out before Hogan could swallow it and he shot a quick glance in Wilson's direction, hoping the medic hadn't heard him. Wilson did not turn around. Relieved, Hogan frowned and glared at Wilson's back. The morning's conversation—or should that be confrontation—played back through Hogan's mind, sending a rush of adrenalin pumping through his veins. Wilson and Kinch had both questioned his decision to exclude the medical team from knowing about their missions. I probably shouldn't have told Wilson that if he was told too much he would inevitably overstep his bounds and try to influence my decisions.

Since then, conversation between the two men had been… minimal.

Hogan eyed the ball of clay suspiciously. If this is what it takes to get me released from here and back in command, I'll do it twenty-four seven… but… "Are you sure this is going to put strength back in my arm, or is this just your sadistic way of getting even?"

Again looking at Wilson's back, Hogan could tell he had hit a nerve. The medic straightened slightly, as the pencil in his hand stopped moving. Without turning around, Wilson's irritated voice answered, "Sorry, Colonel, that kind of information is on a strictly 'need to know basis' If I tell you too much, you may try to use it to give medical advice."

Hearing a slightly different version of his own words thrown back at him raised the hackles on Hogan's neck. More clay squeezed out between taunt knuckles as his left hand formed a fist.

Stubborn medic! How do I make you understand? I won't put more people at risk than absolutely necessary. The majority of the time our assignments have gone off without a hitch. But if… or when… that should change and they catch us…

Hogan's stomach knotted as he acknowledged how close they had come to living that possibility. This whole incident could have very easily ended differently. It was only by a stroke of luck that my men were able to concoct a story plausible enough to allow us to stay in camp. If the guards hadn't been shooting at shadows, in reaction to the explosions and the decreased manpower in camp, the ruse of my getting shot by ricocheting bullets couldn't have happened. By all rights, my men should have abandoned me and headed for England.

Hogan held that thought for a moment, unable to decide whether to congratulate the men on their ingenuity or reprimand them for taking the risk. His head began to throb. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes to regroup. I'll decide later. Anyway, the odds of that ever happening again are… nil. So you see, Wilson… Hogan opened his eyes and focused on Wilson's back. "…you don't need to know the "what" and "when" about our missions. You just need to follow orders! But until I can find a way to get through this—wall—you've put up, you're not going to hear a word I say.

Tiredly looking at the clay in his fist, his temper flared again.

Fine, Wilson! You've ordered me to exercise my left arm for thirty minutes. I'll show you how to follow orders!

Balling the clay back into his left hand Hogan painfully and quickly worked the clay around in his fist, faster and faster, until the burning in his upper arm had become a raging fire and every ounce of his strength went to keeping his left hand going.

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Wilson cocked his head as the effort being exerted on the opposite side of the room played over his shoulder and into his ears. He's breathing heavy. Wilson looked at his watch. I'll give him fifteen minutes. That should wear him out enough that he'll be ready to get back to bed and rest. Wilson's smug smile faded as the morning's confrontation played back through his head. His and Kinch's effort to talk some sense into the Colonel had started out civilly enough, but soon digressed. After the Colonel had said his orders stood… things started getting out of hand, and both sides withdrew to their respective corners—the Colonel firm in his decision, and Wilson and Kinch still wanting to debate.

Stubborn, bull-headed… Putting the supplies he had just inventoried back on the shelf, Wilson crunched down on the pencil he held between his teeth. Accusing me of insubordination! I was not being insubordinate. I was simply questioning his… health! I have that right! Wilson flinched at himself. Well—I do! And with this kind of thinking… his sanity is in question! Wilson sighed. And contrary to popular opinion, I did not overstep my authority! I…

A sharp gasp cut through the inner turmoil going on in Wilson's head and he turned to look at what the Colonel was up to… this time! Seeing the sweat pouring down Hogan's red face, concern for his patient overcame his anger and he bounded across the room breaking his silence.

"What are you trying to do?" Wilson's hand shot out, pinning Hogan's left forearm to the table in front of him. Swiping the warm ball of clay out of the Colonel's fist, Wilson watched as a red stain wound its way around to the front of the dressing on Hogan's upper left arm. "Couldn't you feel that?"

Hogan looked into Wilson's face and panted, "I was following orders!"

Wilson's nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and shoved the table in front of Hogan out of his way while pulling his obstinate patient to his feet. "Come on. You're going back to bed!"

"Do you know how hard I've worked to get your body to produce those red blood cells?" Wilson asked. With Hogan back on his cot, his hand busily worked at unwrapping the bloody dressing. Nimble fingers examined the edges of the wound and soon found the source of the leak. "Why didn't you stop? It had to be hurting!" Wilson's anger pounded through his feet as he crossed the floor to get a fresh dressing.

"Following orders is painful sometimes!" Hogan answered.

Wilson felt his face flush. He had heard another version of those same words earlier that morning. So that's what this is about!

Placing some cotton balls in a metal basin, Wilson doused them with alcohol. Then grabbing the rest of his supplies, he marched back to Hogan, sat down, and slowly lifted the Colonel's left wrist, gently placing it on the pillow over his head, exposing the bloody wound. Using a gauze sponge, Wilson carefully began absorbing the blood that was obscuring his view. Well, it's not as bad as I feared. Sagging slightly with relief, Wilson continued to probe. There's just a small area in the center where the bullet came to rest that hasn't completely granulated in yet. His bullheadedness just caused it to pull apart a little.

Wilson pulled the basin closer and warned as he picked up one of the alcohol-soaked cotton balls, "This is going to sting." Passing it over the raw opening of the wound there was a sharp intake of air as Hogan attempted to pull his arm down.

"Don't move!" Wilson caught Hogan's elbow and placed it back over his head.

"That's an order—sir." Wilson chose his next sentence carefully. It was dangerously similar to one that was aimed at him earlier that morning.

"It's for your own good."

Wilson, undaunted by Hogan's glare, sprinkled a generous amount of sulfa over the oozing hole and began wrapping a clean pressure-dressing over it.

"I can follow orders, Sergeant, take a lesson!"

Wilson initiated firm eye contact and felt his gut clench as he prepared for battle. "I follow orders, too, sir! Rational, orders, that is!"

"Watch it, Sergeant! You're dangerously close to stepping over the line here!"

"Stepping over the line? Do you realize how close I came to losing you? Another thirty seconds… a minute… if I hadn't gotten that initial blood transfusion going on the first try… that would have been it for you!"

Wilson inhaled. Decorum—Joe! One, two, three… don't lose your head.

Wilson's slowly let his breath out and continued silently counting. Four, five, six… You can't go head to head with your commanding officer… seven, eight, nine…

"I'm waiting, Sergeant. You look like you have something you want to say."

Wilson hesitated, fighting against his better judgment as a healer and his fear of being caught unprepared like this again. I should let you rest, but this needs to be said. Or someday I'm going to be letting you 'Rest in Peace'.

"Yes, sir, I do! It's the same thing Kinch and I said earlier."

Wilson registered Hogan's eyes narrowing slightly and continued. "I understand where you're coming from, Colonel, but… I have a stake in these men, too. And if they come back injured…"

"You can't let friendship…" Hogan began.

Angry, Wilson bellowed, "It's not friendship! It's the welfare of the entire camp. And contrary to popular opinion, I do know it takes all five of you and … yes, sometimes even a few extras, to carry out London's orders. I'm also very aware that you are trying to keep the rest of us as safe as possible. But our odds of staying safe are greatly increased if the five of you remain intact. And my best chance of making sure that happens is if I can be prepared." Wilson looked down. There, he had finally said what had gotten lost in emotions that morning.

"Can I put my arm down now?" Hogan's calm question caught Wilson off guard. Blinking, he reached out helping to lower the weakened arm to the bed, and then waited for the boom. But it didn't come. Instead, Hogan pulled himself up into a sitting position and, leaning back against the wall, continued in a steady voice.

"You're wrong, Wilson. And if you hadn't made me lightheaded with that morphine this morning, I would have been able to think clearly enough to explain myself, instead of just demanding you follow orders and dismissing you and Kinch."

Hogan took in a breath. "I'm not just trying to keep the rest of the men in camp safe by keeping our missions on a need to know basis. I'm trying to keep our operation intact so we can help the rest of the Allied forces, and the Underground, win this war and protect the innocents on both sides who will be affected if this madman isn't stopped."

Hogan slid down the wall and let his head drop back on the pillow. "If just one man slips under interrogation, it's all over. And not just for us, but for all those working with us, too. It's too big a chance, and an unnecessary risk to take."

Wilson's focus had been on caring for the occasional injury and trying to prevent the spread of diseases that may cause an epidemic to sweep through the camp. The men and the life they had etched out behind the barbed wire surrounding them had become his world. The bigger picture had been relegated to the back of his mind. But the Colonel had dusted off their reason for being here in the middle of Germany. They were still soldiers, and very much a part of this war. And that meant people could get hurt and… maybe even die.

Wilson, still sitting next to Hogan, leaned over and drew the blanket up. "Okay, Colonel, you've finally got it through my thick head. What is going on outside the fence is larger than all of us, and I'll try not to let that slip again. But as a medic whose job it is to save lives, I can't promise I won't be angry the next time somebody gets injured and I have to try and save them when I'm slow off the starting line and have a little bit of nothing for supplies."

Hogan smiled and, closing his eyes, shifted lower in his cot, ready to drift off to sleep. "Nobody ever holds that against you, Wilson."

Wilson nodded to himself. I know that. But it's a small consolation when you're standing over a grave.

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-One week later-

"Major Hochstetter has finished his investigation." Myra placed the report on Hegel's desk.

The Major picked it up and thumbed through it. Hochstetter had targeted and arrested two more townspeople when he had been unable to find the baker's wife and youngest son. I guess we know why they couldn't be found, don't we "Papa Bear"? Hegel smiled.

"What are you smiling at? Did you read something funny in that report?" Myra asked.

Hegel looked up. He had not shared Leutnant Kroger's report with Myra—yet. I believe it's time we have a talk, my dear. Hegel was ready to get started on the next phase of his plan.

"Myra, darling, you remember Leutnant Kroger…"

"Oh! I almost forgot." Myra jumped as if remembering something urgent and left, returning a moment later with a letter. "This came for you, today." She handed the envelope to Hegel. "The Leutnant was killed in action. I still don't understand why he wanted to go and fight on the Eastern Front. He was serving the Fatherland right here."

Hegel's eyes widened at the news and then settled into a contended gleam. "Leutnant Kroger was a very patriotic young man." With a wife and child he wanted to protect. Hegel smiled as he remembered how he used their safety to manipulate the young Leutnant. One more loose end tied up.

Hegel stood, walked around the desk, and pulled Myra into his arms. "Myra, remember when you asked me for a diamond?"

Myra draped her arms around Hegel's neck and smiled demurely. "Is this a proposal?"

Hegel grinned. "Better than that. How would you like a handful of diamonds?"

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