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"It is most unusual to be sharing an assignment with an Allied prisoner of war," Hochstetter said, his moustache twitching as he sat at his desk, tapping the surface with nervous energy. "Is it not?"

Hogan stood before him—he had never been offered the opportunity to sit down—in silence. He was sure he could not trust the Gestapo officer, and he was determined to say as little as possible in every meeting, to draw Hochstetter out, and to avoid saying anything that could compromise his operation. His eyes flitted to the guard standing nearby, rifle steady by his side, staring straight ahead, and occasionally at him.

"You are quiet, Hogan. You don't trust me." Hogan shrugged. "That is understandable. We are not typically on the same side." More silence. Hochstetter smiled in what could be translated as an attempt at reassurance. "Now, Hogan," he said silkily. "I have explained everything to you, yes? I released you as I promised, did I not? You have no real reason not to play along. If you are not an espionage agent for the Allies, if you are simply a demoralized, unambitious prisoner of war as you claim, you will lose nothing by helping the Gestapo to remove Klink."

"Except my self-respect," Hogan said simply. "Helping you could be considered an act of treason."

"Hogan, Hogan, we have gone through all of this already," Hochstetter said disarmingly. "You may consider this an act of self-preservation, nothing more, if it helps your lofty American conscience. He is an enemy officer as well. There is no more time for doubting. It is time to plan and time to take steps." Hochstetter's tone grew more dangerous. "I grow impatient to begin."

Hogan considered, then nodded. Despite his misgivings, Hochstetter was right: it was time to act. The sooner they got started, the sooner he could put this distasteful mission behind him, and the sooner he would feel that the operation was relatively safe. "Okay, Hochstetter, you win. But when I go home, I want to forget I ever laid eyes on you. Though I doubt I'll be able to."

Hochstetter smiled, something that always made Hogan feel slightly sick. "You do me a great honor, Hogan. I like to think of myself as somewhat unforgettable."

"Let's get to work," Hogan said. "I want to get out of here." He looked around. "I don't suppose you'd consider letting me sit in your presence?"

Hochstetter made a sound that Hogan thought might pass for a laugh. He gestured toward a chair nearby. "How rude of me—of course, Hogan. Sit. We have much to do."

Hogan pulled the chair up to the desk and, with a quick look back to the guard, sat down. "How are we going to do this?" he asked.

"I thought you might have some ideas for me, Hogan. A man who has been sitting in a prisoner of war camp for over a year must have had some thoughts on how to get out."

There's the trap, Hogan thought. "Oh I might have at one stage, but after awhile I simply resigned myself to my situation," he said casually.

"Oh, come, Hogan, surely you must have dreamed…longed…for the open air again. You were a flyer, an American hero. Barbed wire and roll calls cannot have appealed to you."

"They do lack some of the charms of home." Hogan paused. "Okay. I'll lay my cards on the table, Hochstetter. I'm helping you because I want to go home. Because I want to fly again. Because I hate the Nazis and all they stand for. And if the only way I can get out of this joke of a country is to move Klink out first, then I'll do it. There's no love lost between us. I don't owe him any favors." Except in return for the soft-heartedness that's saved me and my men more times than I can count.

"You will get your wish if all goes as I expect it will. No mind, Hogan, I have devised a plan of my own. You will escape from Stalag 13 and attempt to blow up the new bridge about two miles from your camp. This bridge is a strategic link for our convoys. You will be caught with explosives and a wired bridge."

"And shot as a spy," Hogan finished. "I'm not sure I like this plan."

"It will be me who finds you, Hogan. I will make sure that you are granted clemency, and then according to our agreement, I will release you to your countrymen."

"And what guarantee do I have that you'll honor this little bargain?"

"In the end, I am a simple gentleman like yourself. My word is my promise."

"Somehow you don't fill me with confidence."

"Cold feet, Colonel Hogan?" Hochstetter spread his arms in a gesture of resignation. "Your alternative is to submit to standard Gestapo interrogation for the unusual activities around Stalag 13. I can do that at any time, can I not? And we both know how unpleasant that can be."

"I get the picture," Hogan said. "You've convinced me. When do we get started?"

"Tomorrow night. You will break out underneath the fence near the guards' tower."

"And how do you expect me to do that?"

"It will be ready for you, Hogan. A mysterious power blackout will take over the camp at 2300 hours. You will use this opportunity to escape. I will be waiting nearby to take you to the bridge. You can do this alone?"

"It'd be better if I had a couple of men with me. It'd look pretty unrealistic for only one man to be trying to blow up a bridge, don't you think?"

"How many men?"

"Two." Carter, explosives genius. Newkirk, master con man.  "With the same carrot dangling in front of them as me—they'd have no reason to take this risk otherwise."

"Very well. Two, no more. I am not willing to release an entire camp for one man. Not even if the man is that idiot Klink."

"Agreed."

"You see, Colonel Hogan, I am a reasonable man. The fact that you do not approve of the Third Reich does not concern me. What concerns me is the end… not the means."

"I'm beginning to see that."

"I have great faith in you, Hogan." Hochstetter smiled again. Hogan was ignoring the pounding in his ears, telling him this was a dangerous alliance. "We should return you to Stalag 13 now. You will need to make arrangements for tomorrow night."

Hochstetter stood up. Hogan followed suit. But as he did so, the guard behind him suddenly grabbed hold of his left arm and pulled it up behind him, so far that Hogan was sure it would break. Tears stung his eyes as his already raw wrist was squeezed roughly. Pushed up against the wall, Hogan could see Hochstetter out of one eye, nodding. "Not too much, Corporal. We need him to be intact." Hogan thought his shoulder would pop out of its socket, and gritted his teeth. "You see, Hogan, if we return you to Stalag 13 in perfect condition, someone would suspect that we are in collusion. We cannot have that." The guard slammed Hogan's head against the wall, sending the room spinning and sending a trickle of blood down his temple. His knees buckled. Then the guard abruptly let go, and Hogan sank to the floor.

"You bastard," he gasped, gripping his burning shoulder. "You're enjoying this." He wiped away the blood that was getting in his right eye, and shook his head.

"Nonsense, Hogan. But I have a job to do, and I am a thorough taskmaster." He allowed the Corporal a couple more well-aimed kicks that left Hogan reeling, then put up a hand to stop him. "That should do nicely," he said, and he held a hand out to help Hogan off the floor.

Hogan glared at him and sat up, knocking Hochstetter's hand away. Gingerly cradling his tender ribs and trying to ignore the throbbing in his lower body from a particularly cruel kick, he dragged himself to his feet, staggered to the upturned chair, and set it right so he could collapse into it. He wiped again at his temple, and said nothing as he realized the precarious position he was actually in: if he played along with Hochstetter, strung him along, the Gestapo officer could have him shot at any time on trumped-up charges; if he didn't, the outcome could surely be the same. He really had nothing to lose by trying to use the situation to his advantage—except his health, and possibly his life. But that was the case in either scenario. But he doesn't have to enjoy it so much, Hogan thought. It's payback time for all the slices of humble pie we've served you, isn't it, Hochstetter?

"Let me out of here," he growled.

"Very well, Hogan. I will see you tomorrow night."

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"The Colonel is back!" Le Beau cried, as he saw a Gestapo staff car pull up in front of Klink's office. He scrambled outside with the others, straining to see from the barracks, as they knew Hogan didn't want any undue attention drawn to him.

They nearly couldn't stop themselves from rushing forward when they saw Hogan emerge from the car. He had only been gone for six hours, but he looked ten years older. Klink came instantly out of his office and the two of them exchanged words that the men could not hear. Then Hogan turned away from Klink and the Gestapo officer who had accompanied him back to camp, and limped across the compound, his men uncertain he would make it back to them. He was slightly bent over, obviously uncomfortable, and they could see what appeared to be dried blood on his face.

"I thought he was supposed to be having a friendly talk with Hochstetter," Kinch said under his breath.

"If that's friendly I'd hate to see what happens if they get into an argument," Newkirk remarked.

Hogan walked by them into the barracks with only a fleeting look. "It starts tomorrow," he said, barely audibly, and pushed past them.

"I'll get Wilson," Carter volunteered, and shot off towards the medic's quarters. Beyond worried, the others followed Hogan inside.

Their commanding officer had gone straight to his room and was lying on his bunk, curled in on himself as though to lessen the pain he was quite clearly experiencing. He had removed his crush cap but not his jacket. Kinch moved forward and offered to help Hogan take it off. "No," Hogan snapped, unwilling to rotate his throbbing shoulder to accomplish that.

Kinch saw bloody patches on the bandage that covered Hogan's wrist and understood his irritability. "Wilson's coming, Colonel," he said gently.

"No time for that," Hogan protested. But he didn't argue further. Instead, he focused on the mission at hand. "Hochstetter wants an escape tomorrow night. He wants us to pretend to blow up the new bridge outside camp. If we're caught it will be a victory for him, and an admission of total anarchy for Klink. We have to think of a way to sabotage that idea."

"You will, Colonel," Le Beau assured him, not really thinking of any mission at the moment.

Carter returned with Wilson. "Another encounter with our friends in the Gestapo, Colonel?" Wilson asked, moving in right away. He motioned for the others to back off, and gently turned Hogan onto his back. The senior POW's groans told him more than he wanted to hear. He scowled when he saw the blood on Hogan's face, and cursed when he saw more blood had seeped through Hogan's bandaged wrist. He shooed the men out of the room, and shut the door behind him.