Chocolate
Schultz knows what's happening. They know he knows, he knows they know. They all know he could stop knowing nothing at any moment. He won't, if he can help it. But he could.
So they bribe him. Candy, mostly. He's not sure whether to be offended that they think he's for sale or that his price is so low, but he takes what they offer as a price for doing what he'd intended to, anyway.
Every couple of weeks, he sends his children a package. It's wartime; chocolate is hard to come by. They shouldn't be cheated out of everything.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*
Bitter
The cooler. Again.
He's only here because he was stupid enough to fight for a country that would have happily locked him up themselves if they knew all the facts.
Well, fool me once. He's done with war, with patriotism, with risking his life and getting nothing but a knife in the back in return. From here on out, he intends to survive, and to hell with anyone else.
Eventually, the guards drag in another POW. Whatever he's shouting, it probably isn't French for 'Lovely weather we're having.' Against his better judgement, he calls out to him.
Saves his soul in the process, too.
*.*.*.*.*.*
Preparation
There are days when London's brass is a bigger threat to Hogan's sanity than Berlin's. Goldilocks, do this, Goldilocks, do that, Goldilocks, what the hell's taking so long?
They don't see. They don't know. They don't see LeBeau ruining his eyes forging passports by candlelight, or Carter reinventing the wheel to juryrig improvised bombs. They don't see Newkirk run ragged sneaking out of camp 'acquiring' supplies, or Kinch running interference with homemade radios and chutzpah.
Things take more inside the wire—more time. Effort. Guts. They've got the last in spades; they don't grudge the second. Two out of three…?
*.*.*.*.*
Tomorrow
When Today's a bust, think about Tomorrow, or try to. Best not to think about Yesterday much, but everyone does, so that's that.
Tomorrow isn't so bad, except for its habit of turning into Today when you'd rather it didn't. It's not always friendly—Tomorrow has its share of terrors, and it's not shy about parading them across your mind—but it isn't always your enemy, either. Sometimes it promises good things, if you hang on. Sometimes it even delivers.
…Twenty-nine Tomorrows. Or one long Today. It's so dark in here it's hard to know where Tomorrow begins and ends.
*.*.*.*.*
Lies
Hogan lies. He has to.
You have my word as an officer; no monkey business.
Of course I didn't have anything to do with it!
The men look on you as a father, Kommandant; they respect you.
And then, the lies to his own side. Those are harder to justify.
I've got everything under control.
We can do this, I'm sure of it.
He'll be fine.
He's learned to lie with a straight face, steady voice, and quiet conscience. It's easy. It's almost too easy. Why is this lie so much harder to tell?
Don't worry, Mom. I'm being careful.