Author's Note: This is your reminder that you all should read "Wings" by John Monk Saunders, I found a copy of it at a thrift store yesterday, read it last night, and cried. It's set in World War 1 and a very insightful and moving book.

Also, it appears that I have, again, forgotten to mention that I don't own these characters. Oops. I don't own these characters.

Hogan made two more trips to the "little boys' room", conveniently discerning the layout of the first and second floors, and, unconveniently, hiding in the supply closet for a half hour when two nurses got chatty in the hall. He may have been able to convince one, but he didn't want to take any more risks than he had to.

Finally, he made his way back to Schultz, plunked down in a chair, and said in his patented bored twelve-year-old voice, "When's Langenscheidt supposed to be back here so you can haul me back to Hell?"

Schultz rolled his eyes and looked at his watch. "Any time now."

"I do sincerely hope that he takes it upon himself to remain dutifully at his post," Hogan said. He did mean it.

"Oh, of course." Schultz nodded firmly. "Karl may be the only one who would not run off to the beer hall. That is why I assigned him. He can't hold his beer."

Hogan smirked. "Thanks, Schultz. You know you're not a bad guy."

"Danke."

"For a kraut, that is."

Schultz moaned.

Hogan smirked and looked up as the door to the room opened, and a nurse stepped in with Langenscheidt just behind her.

She pointed to where Hogan and Schultz, sat, and Langenscheidt hurriedly thanked her and scurried over.

"Hi there, Langenscheidt." Hogan stood up. "You ready for a week of the easiest guard duty you ever saw?"

"Ja." Langenscheidt smiled a little. Hogan had no doubt he would enjoy it.

Schultz sighed. "Lucky. Alright, let's go."

"Say hi for me when Cohen wakes up," Hogan smiled cheekily at Langenscheidt and the young guard sighed.

The ride back to camp was entirely uneventful, and when Hogan stepped into the barracks he was not surprised to see that the place was, again, a disaster.

"We had company?" He asked.

The response was a universal groan, and LeBeau said, "Mon Colonél, Hochstetter's goons have broken three of my good bowls since they arrived." With traditional French flare, he dropped the pieces of one onto Carter's bunk. "I'll have to cook in cups soon enough!"

Hogan watched him storm about a little more, and then looked at Kinch. "You get that list sent to London?"

"Yep," Kinch said. "They appreciated it."

"Not so much they have another assignment for us, do they?"

"Thankfully not," He sighed. "I told them about the situation, and since it's kind of their fault Garlotti and Barnes were in Nijmegen I think they felt a little bad about it."

Hogan sighed. "Well, works for me. Oh!" He looked up. "Talked to Barnes, by the way."

"What?" They all spun to face him.

"How is he?" Davis asked earnestly.

"Oh, he's alive," Hogan said. "Rough shape, but alive. He says hi." He pulled up his sleeve. "I copied this down from the clipboard but I don't know what any of it means."

Kinch frowned at the scribbles. "You'd have to ask Wilson, or Loewe. I doubt the medical terms are in my dictionary."

"Hmm." Hogan tugged his sleeve back down. "I'll do that. Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

"You mean besides the destruction of my utensils?" LeBeau flung his arms out.

Everyone sighed. Hogan got the impression LeBeau had been going on about this a while.

"Yes, LeBeau, besides that."

Kinch sighed and said, "Hochstetter was ranting to Klink earlier. He did try to arrange for a transfer into his authority. Klink wouldn't let him, though, unless he had a superior to authorize it."

"Well, they're not supposed to transfer between branches, are they?" Carter asked.

"No," Hogan said. "But if the big shots get involved, none of them particularly care about the Conventions. Not in the Gestapo, anyways."

"How likely is it that Hochstetter can get authorization?" Addison asked softly.

Hogan looked at him. "His colleagues all think he's nuts. It's a million to one chance he gets what he wants, and there's no way I'm letting him have any of you." He looked around to emphasize his point. "And speaking of which, let's make a plan to get Barnes out of the lion's den."

This brought them together, and the occupants crowded around the table as Kinch pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket (he always had them on him), and handed them to Hogan.

Hogan started drawing, not doing a particularly nice job, and talking. "This is about what the first floor lookes like. There's an elevator here and here, a flight of stairs here, the room Cohen's in is here." He turned the page and started scribbling again. "This is the second floor. Barnes is in 214. The second bed - of four. I didn't see any guards inside the building."

"So it shouldn't be too hard then, to get him out?" Olsen asked. "Once we come up with a story for it."

Newkirk scoffed. "Since when has anything turned out the way it should be?"

There was a collective grunt of agreement, and Hogan said, "We've got time to make a story yet. Cohen should be home in a day or two - Langenscheidt is guarding him. And it seems to me he's quite anticipating a few days of doing nothing, so I'm not worried about that." Not too worried, anyways. "Barnes isn't in any condition to go anywhere yet."

Davis frowned. "He gonna be okay, Colonel?"

Hogan shrugged. "I'm not a doctor. And I only talked do him for a few minutes." He really wasn't sure. "I'll ask Wilson about these." He motioned to his arm. "He'll know."

"Well, the man's got enough jackassery in him to keep him alive," Newkirk said. "And that's better than any medicine I've ever seen."

"Oh," LeBeau needled. "You speak from experience?"

"No. Newkirk lifted his chin. "Eyewitness experience."

LeBeau sputtered and flew into vehement French.

This broke up the small meeting, and Hogan stood and went into his office.

Kinch followed, and nudged the door shut behind him.

"Who'd Hochstetter try to transfer?" Hogan asked softly.

"Myself, Carter, Foster, and Joseph." Kinch replied.

Hogan winced. Kinch was the only one of the four he knew wouldn't let them force anything from him - the others would certainly rather die than give away the operation, but Joseph was small and panicky, Carter talked when he was delirious, and Foster relied so heavily on his God that Hogan wondered what would happen if, by some miracle, they managed to take Him away from the man. Maybe they could have lasted. But whether they talked or not, Hochstetter would kill them all in the end. Shot while trying to escape. Suspicion of espionage. Any reason that would look viable on paper.

"What do you think are the chances he'll get authorization, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

Hogan sighed. "I don't think he will. But be ready. Just in case."

Kinch nodded and Hogan said firmly. "But as long as it's in my power, Hochstetter isn't going to hurt any one of you. You have my word on that."