No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.
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Le Beau couldn't count the number of times he had rubbed his eyes in the last four days. Every time he was tempted to succumb to sleep, he thought about the man beside him in the bunk, and told himself there was no way Colonel Hogan would be abandoned again. No matter what the others said to him, the Frenchman could not help but feel that this punishment could have been avoided, or at least mitigated, if the heroes had taken a more active approach when Hogan had not returned when they had expected.
They had all taken their turns sitting nearby, watching anxiously as Wilson made regular examinations of the Colonel and continued with painkillers and sedatives. When questioned he told them that Hogan was better off getting complete rest than being awake and trying to fight pain. He gently massaged a salve into the welts on Hogan's upper body and moved the Colonel's leg to check the effectiveness of the constant compresses he was using. Occasionally nodding solemnly, he told the men he was satisfied that Hogan was making progress, and would be allowed to return to his senses soon.
Klink continued making visits to the barracks as well, almost hesitantly entering Hogan's room and searching his face for answers. Though he knew that Wilson was keeping him sedated, Klink could not help but expect—hope?—that Hogan would just sit up and fire some glib comment at him. His phone call to General Burkhalter had had unexpected results: even the General felt that constantly pulling Hogan out of Stalag 13 was causing unwarranted trouble at the camp and needed to be stopped. But he told Klink he was counting on the kommandant to handle the situation himself, and Klink did not feel confident in facing the Gestapo. Perhaps if I did, you wouldn't look like this now, he told Hogan silently. The daily phone calls from Hochstetter didn't help quiet his nerves either. He didn't understand why the Major wanted to be constantly updated on Hogan's progress. Perhaps Newkirk was right: maybe he was waiting to pull Hogan away from the camp again, to do more damage than he had already done. Would Klink have the courage to stop him if he did? He knew he had the support of Burkhalter, but he wasn't sure he had the support of his own backbone. I will try, Colonel Hogan, he promised now, surprised at his own sincerity. I give you my word, I will try.
Kinch came into the room while Klink was lost in thought, with a damp cloth in his hands. "Excuse me, Kommandant, it's time for me to look after the Colonel."
Klink nodded and moved aside. He watched Kinch move the cloth across Hogan's face and touch it gingerly to his neck and arms. How gentle he is, thought Klink. Newkirk entered partway through the ritual and said something Klink couldn't hear. Kinch nodded and moved the blanket away from Hogan's left leg, removing the compress. Klink flinched involuntarily as the bruise underneath was revealed. Though most of the swelling had gone down, the violent color remained as an ugly reminder of Hogan's most recent disagreement with Hochstetter. Newkirk took the compress and left the room, and Kinch resumed his caring task. "We're waiting for you, Colonel," Klink heard him whisper. "Take your time and heal."
Newkirk came back in with another compress, which he placed with extraordinary tenderness on Hogan's knee, hiding most of the bruise. Kinch replaced the blanket and stood up, then the two of them left without speaking. Klink could only ponder what he knew, and what he had seen. Then he, too, left Hogan alone.
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"You must drink, Colonel Hogan," insisted Wilson gently. Two days later, after a gradual release from the drugs the medic had kept him on, Hogan woke up. Groggy, confused, and still uncomfortable, it had been hard for him to grasp at first that he had been returned to the camp by the Gestapo and cared for here by his friends with the blessings of Klink. His eyes told them that a part of him was still back in Hammelburg, but when they questioned him gently he would not answer. Now, after maneuvering Hogan into a sitting position, Wilson was holding a glass to his lips, and trying to get him to take a swallow.
"Can't take—" Hogan tried to protest.
"Yes, you can," Wilson said, trying not to be too stern, but knowing that authority, not gentle coaxing, was what Hogan needed. "Come on now; one sip." He pushed the cup onto Hogan's dry lips and tipped it up. He guessed Hogan would open his mouth to avoid being drenched, and he was right. Sputtering as it went down, Hogan tried to curse. Wilson gave a small smile. "Well, you left me no choice," he said. "How do you feel?"
"Don't ask me that for a month."
Wilson nodded. "The worst is over, Colonel. You'd have felt a lot worse in the last few days if you hadn't been sedated." Hogan grimaced at him. "I know you don't like to be unaware, Colonel, but it was for your own good. And I'm going to keep administering morphine for a few days more."
"I'm not arguing," Hogan said wearily. "Where's Kinch—and Carter and the others?"
"Just outside the door, Colonel. I know you have a lot to talk about, so I'll make myself scarce. But I'm leaving them instructions. And I'll be back in awhile."
Hogan nodded acquiescence and said a prayer of gratitude for people like Wilson as the others piled into the room.
"How are ya, Colonel?" asked Carter, as they settled themselves in.
"I'm putting a ban on that question for awhile, Carter," Hogan quipped. He wanted to smile but had a feeling that it wasn't showing on his face. "Things didn't go as I'd hoped the other day," he said, any trace of humor gone. The men remained quiet. "You kept things in order?" he asked.
"Oh, oui, Colonel," replied Le Beau, almost too enthusiastically.
"The explosives are in place under the bridge, Colonel. Just as you asked for," Kinch added.
"They're perfect, Colonel—you should see 'em. You'd never know they're not the ones Hochstetter left. But you'll know when they get set off, all right. We've put more firepower in those little sticks—"
"Carter," Hogan said, trying not to be impatient. Carter faltered to a stop. "You're giving me a headache."
"Sorry, Colonel," Carter said.
"They're good, I take it?" Hogan said, his own fondness for Carter not allowing him to be curt with the over-exuberant Sergeant for long.
"Sure are, boy—uh, Colonel."
"Then that's good enough for me. I trust you." Carter smiled. He knew he got carried away sometimes, and he appreciated Hogan's acceptance of it, especially now.
"We're going to have to get that bridge soon," Hogan continued. "We should have done it sooner, but Hochstetter had other things on his agenda." His eyes fixed on something the others couldn't see. They waited while he watched whatever it was play out in his mind's eye; then he brought his haunted gaze back to the present. "I'm afraid I haven't been much of a help."
"You've done more than your share, gov'nor," Newkirk countered. The others nodded agreement. "After all, while 'e's been paying attention to you, 'e's been leaving ol' Klink alone, 'asn't 'e?"
"Small blessings," Hogan muttered. "I'd hoped it would throw him off for good. I underestimated him."
"Hochstetter's been asking about you, Colonel," Kinch said. "Klink says he calls every day—sometimes twice—to check on your condition."
"I'm touched," Hogan said, sarcasm lacing his voice.
"Do you think it's because he wants to do this to you again, Colonel?" Le Beau asked.
"No, I think it's because he still wants to get Klink—and us—by getting us out to that bridge." Hogan stopped, reaching for information. Snatches of Hochstetter's monologue came to him with the memories of the individual blows that accompanied them. Unconsciously he started to physically close in on himself, to shield himself from the attack. Saying nothing, his men watched with a mixture of pity and despair until Hogan brought himself back to the present. "He's going to give me a code when he's ready for us," he said without emotion. "I guess he's waiting to find out when I can acknowledge it. I'm tired," he said abruptly, not wanting to talk any more. "Help me lie down, will you?" Kinch and Newkirk obliged, trying to ignore Hogan's unsuccessful attempts to hide his discomfort. "Thanks," he whispered, and almost immediately fell asleep.
Newkirk and Kinch looked at each other. "Time to put our plans in place," Newkirk said. "We just have to wait for the word from Hochstetter."
"Let's hope it works," Kinch said, looking at Hogan. "We're running out of time."