No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is implied.
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There's Hamburg down below, boys…. Let's show them what we're made of!… Hogan lay uncomfortably on the hard bunk in the cooler. Inexplicably his mind was drifting back to his final mission in the skies over Germany. Here come the Krauts!... Bentley, watch your left flank!... Kanowski, come along side and cover me!... Hell of a place for a dogfight…. He could still see the plane that shot him down as clearly as if it was in front of him now. And he could still smell the fear, his own, as he realized he was being outnumbered and he was watching his own squadron face a devastating defeat in the air. Please, old girl, please…don't give it up yet! Pull up! Come on, damn you, pull up! And a desperate leap into the sky as his girl, his bomber, the plane that had become almost an extension of his own body, gave up her struggle and sputtered to a stop, flames licking their way towards the cockpit where the American Colonel was frantically pulling out all the stops to coax her out of a tailspin. But it was not to be, and a cold, adrenalin-soaked parachute jump into skies bursting with enemy fire was the reward for this pilot, whose thoughts were on the few men still in the planes above him, and on the forbidding, enemy earth below.
How far he had come from that point. The thrill of fear that coursed through his veins when he jumped from the familiarity of his cockpit had been replaced by an intriguing mission: to help Allied prisoners to escape from Nazi Germany, and to cause as much chaos as possible in the meanwhile. To stay behind, while sending others home. To take more personal risks than those he took in the sky: to see his enemy face to face, one on one.
And now here he was: seeing the enemy almost more closely than he could accept, discovering that there were flesh-and-blood people under those German uniforms. Some, like Klink and Schultz, could actually reveal a depth of personality that Hogan found challenged his preconceived notions of his German captors. Others, like Hochstetter, only reinforced his experience that in the hearts of a few men was the root of darkness that, left unchecked, threatened to change the world for all time.
It was times like these that Hogan longed for the sky, and his beloved plane that kept him just out of reach of the emotions that came hand in hand with personal contact in a time of war. Knowing that Hochstetter would no doubt be coming to see Hogan in the morning, demanding an explanation, unleashing his anger and frustration on the American he ultimately had under his control, Hogan's mind refused to draw away from his cold fear: that at some stage, the darkness would win, and, with an overwhelming sense of personal failure, that he would not have been able to prevent it.
Hochstetter will be here tomorrow, thought Hogan. I'll have to play along. Hogan's mental isolation felt as acute as his physical isolation, and, trying desperately to put his chaotic thoughts in order, he drew further into himself. Finding no comfort in the process, he shifted painfully on the bunk. He knew he needed to get some rest for tomorrow, but his mind refused to shut down. When someone came through the secret entrance to the cooler connected to the tunnel network awhile later, he pretended to be asleep, and was left alone.
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Hogan didn't have to wait long for his prophesy about Hochstetter's arrival to be fulfilled. True to form, the small man's entry into Klink's office the next morning felt like the lid being ripped off a can—rough and dangerous. The men in Barracks Two scrambled for the coffee pot and listened as he and Klink bickered about Hogan, and then Le Beau was sent down the ladder to the tunnel near the cooler when Hochstetter headed in that direction, waving guards away as he went.
Hogan was expecting him, and stood up stiffly as Hochstetter was let into the cell. "Leave us," Hochstetter ordered the nearby guard. The guard nodded and went around the corner. "What happened last night?" Hochstetter asked angrily.
"I was caught," Hogan said, irritated. "Why else do you think I'm in the cooler?"
"I made sure you had every opportunity—"
"You made sure I had very little opportunity," Hogan contradicted him. "The lights went off and on so fast I wouldn't have gotten through even if the guards hadn't noticed me near the fence. They're just too good—I told you: this camp has a perfect record. I don't know what makes you think I can change it."
"Come, come, Hogan, I have more confidence in your abilities than that," Hochstetter said, his voice smoothing over again. "We will have to plan differently."
"I'm a little tied up at the moment."
"I will look after that for you: I will tell Klink you are to come back to Gestapo Headquarters with me for further interrogation. Instead, we will have another meeting about our strategy. You and I both know that Klink is a buffoon; sooner or later he will have to show his true colors."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Hogan said steadily.
"I am not asking for your approval, Colonel Hogan," answered Hochstetter. There was a silence between the two men as the meaning of the words settled in Hogan's mind. "I will go and inform Klink of your departure now."
Hochstetter summoned the guard and departed. A short time later, with the guard again distracted, Le Beau appeared, to find Hogan sitting on the bunk, unseeing. "Colonel, you cannot go back with him again," Le Beau started. Hogan simply stared ahead, his eyes troubled. "Colonel—we have to find a way to stop you from going, or that stinking monster will hurt you again," Le Beau insisted.
Hogan was still, answering in his head but unable to speak the words aloud. Stop him from taking me—how? God help me, there's nothing you can do. And he found he could not stop a slight tremble, a move that did not escape Le Beau's notice.
"We will stop this, Colonel. You will escape and then Hochstetter will stop taking you," Le Beau said, desperately.
"And he'll shut us down for sure," Hogan said as though from a distance. "I have to go, Louis. We can't afford to lose Klink."
"And we cannot afford to lose you, Colonel." Le Beau nearly panicked at the resignation in Hogan's voice.
"He'll be back soon; you'd better go," Hogan said. Suddenly he swapped back into his command approach. "Mind the store till I get back. Understood?" he said, his voice surprisingly strong.
"Oui, Colonel."
Hogan shuffled Le Beau back out through the tunnel, and waited for what he knew was next.
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When Hogan was returned late that night, he concentrated on being able to walk unaided back to the barracks. Somewhere in the back of his mind Hogan knew his mindset was changing—he was forgetting the reason for his meetings with Hochstetter, and was starting to focus solely on self-preservation. But, limping painfully back to his men, seeing nothing in front of him but knowing instinctively where he needed to go, he realized he had no control over what was happening. How could he have thought he could outwit the Gestapo? Hochstetter's strategy session had consisted of ranting and raving on the part of the German, interplayed with silky-smooth conversation intended to convince Hogan to continue with the plan. And though the roughing-up that followed had been anticipated, Hogan found he was no better steeled against the onslaught than if he had been taken by surprise, and he had struggled to maintain his bearings. Wryly, Hogan noted during the delivery of his injuries that Hochstetter seemed determined not to let him slip into the consolation of unconsciousness, not to injure him enough to make it feasible for him to say he could not possibly comply with Hochstetter's plans. No, Hochstetter was if nothing else quite exacting and detailed in his torture.
Blessedly Klink had not tried to debrief Hogan upon his return. Instead he told his senior POW that he would talk with him in the morning, and insisted on having the guard summon Wilson to the barracks again. Hogan wanted to resist—he wanted nothing else but to fall down and forget it all—but he had not the strength to do so, and so he nodded mutely and stumbled along. Entering the barracks, Hogan leaned heavily on the door, banging it against the bunk behind it and waking his men. They were at his side instantly as he started to sink into the room, and when he tried to indicate he wanted to be in his quarters, they helped him to his bunk and watched as he turned his face to his pillow and stifled a noise that they did not want to admit sounded like a sob.
Wilson arrived shortly thereafter, and turned them out. But by then Hogan had mercifully blacked out, and Wilson was able to work unhindered at repairing his broken body. He could only imagine what damage was being done to Hogan's mind.