As he neared Barracks 2, Colonel Hogan caught the distinct scent of dough, and glanced around the courtyard. Schultz presented a clearly visible silhouette off by one of the guards' barracks, chatting to one of the guards - from his wild gesticulations and swaying posture he was complaining about something. If he wandered a dozen yards more this direction he'd be within sniffing range.
He entered the building and found LeBeau, Carter, and Foster sitting around the table, hands white with flour, rolling dough balls between their hands and adding them to the pyramid growing near the stove.
Hogan watched them for a minute and then asked, "How are you going to cook buns when we don't have an oven?"
"I have a plan," LeBeau stated confidently.
"I'll take your word for it. Hey, and be careful, you know Schultz'll be here within the hour."
"Oh, it won't really start to smell until we start to cook them," LeBeau said, "I even had a bit of butter to add."
"Aw, he'll show up soon enough anyways trying to avoid those SS men," Foster said, plucking another lump of sticky dough from the bowl. "If they don't beat him here."
"Boy, that's true," Carter agreed, "It's unnerving, having all those guys watching us all the time."
"Almost like being in a prison camp?" Hogan asked.
"Yeah!" Foster and Carter answered together, emphatically.
"Oh, well!" Hogan scoffed. "Now that's just unacceptable."
"Truly a shame," Newkirk drawled from his place at his bunk where he laid on his back idly fiddling with a playing card, making it disappear from one hand, reappear in the other, and vice versa. Newkirk had been doing quite well with the whole disaster, with not much more than his usual amount of complaining, until the SS guards caught on that he and the other "troublemakers" in camp liked to play poker together in the rec hall. Now their table was never under less than three pairs of beady eyes and there were about 10 men in camp whom nobody really wanted to be around (moreso than the others, that is), Barracks 2's Englishman being one of them. "Can't get a minute's peace without somebody poking around somewhere."
To prove his point, the door swung open, and an SS man stood in the doorway, glaring at them for several seconds.
"Sorry," Hogan said blithely, "We're not open yet."
He sent Hogan a withering look and strode out, leaving the door open to let in the cold air.
Hogan reached out and pushed it shut. "If looks could kill, fellas, you'd be in search of a new CO. Anyways," He shook his head. "I'm sneaking along with Schultz this afternoon to get Cohen back."
Everyone brightened, save for Newkirk, who scoffed. "Fine treat he's coming back to."
"It's about the same as when he left," LeBeau offered.
"Oh, sure it is," Newkirk flicked the card into the air and it fluttered down just out of reach of his groping fingers. "But I daresay when I get back to London I'd like it if it doesn't look like the same rat's nest it did when I left." After a moment he laughed. "Course, it'll probably look a fair bit worse." His voice wavered on the last word and he wordlessly accepted his card back when Carter handed it up.
That afternoon, at twenty minutes to the hour, Hogan planted himself outside barracks two, where he had a view of the distant entry to the motorpool and the row of buildings from which Schultz would emerge after giving last parting orders to his subordinates.
At ten til, he did just that, and Hogan stepped out and walked across the yard, falling behind him, completely silent, and followed him into the motorpool, nodding stiffly to the SS guards, as if it were the most natural and Klink-sanctioned activity in the whole camp.
Schultz failed to notice him, until they were well down the road, and Hogan pulled off the tarp he'd been hiding under and climbed over the back of the lorry, through the canvas flap into the passenger seat.
The guard, for his part, nearly crashed the truck, spluttering and stammering - "Co-Co-Colonel Hogan! What are you doing here! This is not allowed! This is against all regulations, Colonel Hogan, please, why must you make everything so hard, we must bring you back, oh, why does this always happen to me, Ach du Lieber!"
"Schultz, Schultz!" Hogan sighed deeply. "We can't go back now. How are you supposed to explain it?"
Schultz's face turned bright red with irritation and he fairly shook. "Colonel Hogan, you snuck along! Like a - a - a - what are they called! The people on the ships!"
"Oh, you mean stowaways?"
"Yes! The stow-aways!" His pronunciation was more stunted and punctuated. "You were a stow-away!"
Hogan frowned. "Well, Schultz, you can't do that! How are you supposed to explain how I got here in the first place? Didn't you see me follow you in?"
"What do you mean follow me in?" He jabbed a sharp thumb into his chest. "I did nothing!"
"Exactly, Schultz. I was right behind you walking into the motorpool. You really think the SS guys are gonna think you didn't notice? And besides, do you really want them to believe you?"
Schultz glared and Hogan went on. "Come on, I just want to come with to get the kid."
"Oooooooh!" Schultz puffed up. "Fine! No monkey business!"
"Yeah, sure, I guess," Hogan pouted and slouched back in the seat.
Schultz screwed his face in a frown and hunched over the wheel, pouting indignantly the rest of the way to the hospital.
Hogan lingered a distance away while Schultz talked to the nurse behind the desk, and then made a show of following him to Cohen's room.
They both stopped short halfway, at the sight of a scrawny little German corporal,, somehow being glared down upon by a man several inches shorter than he, babbling about some sort of regulations - or something.
"Herr Major!" He squeaked, practically leaping in front of Major Hochstetter as he tried to slip around him.
That - that was Langenscheidt, standing in front of the door, gripping his gun in both hands, eyes wide with anticipation of chilly Russian winters, Langenscheidt, denying Major Hochstetter access to the room.
"Major, the corporal is a Luftwaffe prisoner and if you wish to speak to him you must first speak with Kommandant Klink, bitte, sir." He exclaimed tightly. Hogan wondered if he knew those words were coming out of his mouth.
Hochstetter grit his teeth, "Corporal."
"Hochstetter! Fancy seeing you here!" Hogan quickly stepped forward, inching himself between Hochstetter and Langenscheidt. "What brings you to this fine establishment?"
Hochstetter turned on him. "What is this man doing here, Corporal?!"
"Aaah…." Langenscheidt had frozen stiff.
"Bitte," Suddenly Schultz had worked up the guts to intervene, if a bit timidly. "I am guarding Colonel Hogan, we are here to pick up Co - the corporal." He just stopped himself from saying Cohen's name.
Hochstetter glared at him and he quickly withered back. "Colonel Hogan, I happened to be visiting a colleague - you recall the conversation from dinner the other night."
Barnes. Uh-oh.
"Vaguely," Hogan said casually, "What was his name? Baum - something?"
"Baumgartner, ja. Well, I came to see if I could identify him, and decided I may as well stop in on the little Jude before I did." He turned beady eyes on Schultz. "And Corporal Langenscheidt here is a bit reluctant to let me in."
More than uh-oh. Hogan should have known. What were the chances Hochstetter would recognize Barnes?
Pretty good.
"I am sorry, Herr Major, but those are my orders, directly from the Kommandant." Granted, Langenscheidt was happily throwing the blame on Klink, but Hogan was surprised at the young man's stamina. He looked like a light breeze might knock him over, but by golly, he was going to stay planted in front of that door until it happened.
Hochstetter scowled, and pinned Hogan with a death glare.
Nobody said anything.
Hochstetter spun and strode down the hall. His subordinate quickly skittered after him.
"Langenscheidt!" Hogan exclaimed. "That was amazing!"
Langenscheidt squeaked.
Hogan patted his shoulder. "I'm proud of you."
"Ach! That was wonderful, Langenscheidt," Schultz said proudly, "You did so well."
Hogan frowned at him. "I didn't see you doing anything to help. If anything, you only stirred the pot! Isn't that right?" He turned to Langenscheidt, who, rather astutely, decided to simply open the door to the room and let the Colonel and Schultz in. The conversation was left.
"Cohen." Hogan grinned at the young man sitting on the end of the bed, already back in his uniform with hands folded tightly in his lap. "You ready to go?"
"Yes sir!" His voice was only slightly raspy, and Hogan pretended not to notice the sharp wince as he sprung up and saluted the Colonel.
"Well, then, let's get going." Hogan slung an arm around his shoulders and as he leaned close to Cohen, he murmured, "Follow my lead."
Cohen didn't acknowledge the soft order, he knew better than that.
As they exited the room, lead by Schultz and followed by Langenscheidt, Hogan suddenly exclaimed, "Golly!" And pointed with a comically conspicuous motion.
Both Schultz and Langenscheidt turned to the supposed surprise, and even Cohen jumped a little bit, but Hogan grabbed him and yanked him into the next room, flipping the "Do Not Disturb" sign and shutting the door softly.
"Barnes is here," He explained quietly, after checking that the occupant of the room was asleep. "And Hochstetter's going to talk to him. We need to hide him."
Cohen nodded, wide-eyed, apparently momentarily shocked speechless.
They heard Schultz and Langenscheidt begin to panic, and doors opening and shutting all around them. The doorknob creaked and Hogan started to pull Cohen back behind a wardrobe, but then the person on the other side moved on.
Hogan waited a minute or two, and then moved to the door. He cracked it slightly, peeked out, and then motioned for Cohen to follow him.
They quickly moved down the hall, to the elevator.
It was a quick ride up, and thankfully the hall was empty. Hogan lead the way to Barnes' room, and checked inside before stepping all the way in.
Again, he moved past the occupant of the first bad - his condition hadn't changed much - and stepped behind the second curtain.
Barnes was awake, and as the two entered he dropped the paperback into his lap. "Colonel?"
"Hochstetter's going to be here any minute." Hogan wasted no time.
"Oh!" Barnes shifted, trying to sit up. "Oh, well that's just perfect. What are we going to do?" He grimaced, hand moving to his chest. Cohen awkwardly helped him, still shocked speechless by confusion, concern, and the rapidly escalating sense of urgency between all three of them.
"Let me think." Hogan frowned. "They'll come in - let me think. He'd recognize Cohen, wouldn't he." And himself.
He glanced at the man in the other bed. "That's it. Barnes, lay back down."
Barnes did so, eyeing Hogan curiously, and Hogan tugged the sheets up over his head. "Alright, act dead."
"Uh, yes, sir."
"Shush! You're dead." Hogan grabbed the clipboard from the end of the bed and strode to the other occupant of the room.
He replaced that man's with Barnes' - Baumgartner's - and vice versa. "I hope we beat him with the elevator."
He looked around, waved Cohen over, and pulled him into the wardrobe against the wall.
The two of them barely fit inside, but Hogan managed to pull the door shut.
"We all good?" He called softly.
"A little cra -" Cohen started, but Hogan shushed him sharply.
The door creaked open.