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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"You're sure about this?" Hogan asked for what seemed to Newkirk to be the fourth time in the last half hour.
"Positive," Newkirk said again, following Hogan out under the fence. Carter brought up the rear as the trio crouched near to the ground and made their way toward the hiding spot they had originally agreed on.
With a grunt of discomfort, Hogan pushed underbrush out of the way and stepped as quietly as possible into the darkness. Newkirk watched carefully; Hogan was still suffering from the aftereffects of his injuries, and occasionally stopped unexpectedly. Casually brushing aside any concern, Hogan remarked that he merely needed a moment to think. But the grimace, or the limp that hurt just to watch, told Newkirk otherwise. Escaping unarmed, and in their government-issue uniforms, was a strange experience. So used to traipsing in and out of the camp at will, armed, and in civilian clothes or in camouflage, the change from their usual routine had their nerves even more on edge than they had expected. Blimey, was this what I felt like when I first got shot down? wondered Newkirk, trying to shake the unease.
When they reached the secluded area, Newkirk made sure Hogan sat down. Claiming that Carter had the better eyes, Newkirk said that the American Sergeant would be the one to keep a look out for Hochstetter. Hogan didn't argue—a telling sign to Newkirk—and resigned himself to waiting, stretching out his bad leg and wrapping his arms around his good one so he could use his right knee as a head rest.
Afraid to speak in case they were already being observed, Carter scanned their surroundings, looking for patrols, for Hochstetter, and for anything else that might catch them unawares. So far there was nothing but darkness and trees. Not an animal, not an insect, not a leaf falling. Normally he would have been thrilled with the silence; tonight, possibly because of the Colonel's less than perfect health, it worried him. That doesn't make sense, he told himself. But he trusted his instincts, and stayed on the alert.
"When's Hochstetter due, Colonel?" whispered Newkirk in Hogan's ear.
"Any minute," Hogan answered from underneath his arms. Send them back, he told himself, whenever a clear thought allowed itself in. It's bound to be a double cross. Order them back.
All was quiet for what seemed like an eternity. Then Hogan mumbled something and Newkirk strained to hear. "What was that, Colonel?" he asked.
"I said I don't like this; you'd better take Carter and get out of here." There, he'd said it.
"Hochstetter's expecting all three of us," Newkirk replied, warning bells starting to ring in him. Hogan was expecting trouble, and he was asking Newkirk and Carter to leave him to it. Well that wasn't likely to happen!
"You can't always get what you want," Hogan answered. "Head back to camp. That's an order." And he lowered his head again.
"Someone's coming!" came Carter's loud whisper. Newkirk nearly smiled at the timing. There was no way they could leave Hogan now.
Hogan raised his head from his arms and looked toward where Carter was indicating. Sure enough, there was Hochstetter, this time flanked by two guards carrying rifles. Making no effort to maintain the quiet of the night, he tramped through the underbrush and stopped at Hogan's feet. "There is little time," he said.
Hogan looked up at him. "Glad you could make it," he said. Pushing his hands against the ground, Hogan stood up.
"You didn't have any trouble getting out, I presume?" asked Hochstetter.
"I wouldn't miss our little rendezvous," Hogan said. "Had to say thank you for the last week of agony."
"I did what was necessary, Hogan."
Hogan snorted. "Right." He shook his head. "I might have to work with you, but I don't have to like you, you bastard."
Hochstetter shrugged impatiently. "That does not concern me."
"I didn't think it would." He nodded toward Newkirk and Carter. "My men are ready. Tell us what to do."
Hochstetter turned and pointed towards a small path. "We will go this way to the bridge. I have the dummy explosives there. We will wire them to the bridge and then my men and I will arrest you and take you back to Gestapo Headquarters. After a brief interrogation you will be released to the Allies."
Hogan frowned. "Interrogation?" Carter and Newkirk looked at each other.
"Of course, Hogan. Just for show, you understand."
"Oh, I understand far too well," Hogan answered. What the hell have I gotten Carter and Newkirk into?
"You will get what we agreed upon, Hogan," Hochstetter said, turning and walking away. The guards came up behind him and motioned for the men to follow.
I doubt that, Hogan thought. You never had any intention of getting us out. A body-racking chill suddenly hit him as he realized he was trapped, and he had trapped two of his best men with him. What have I done?
"C'mon," muttered Newkirk, nudging Hogan into action.
At once both disoriented and stunned, Hogan could only move on. He looked from Newkirk to Carter and back. "I—I—" he faltered, unsure of what he was trying to say.
"Don't worry, Colonel. You've got it all worked out. Plan B, remember?" Newkirk spoke softly, taking in Hogan's uncertainty. He was hit with a wave of anger; this lack of confidence was all Hochstetter's fault. That bastard had stolen a key part of Hogan's personality, a part vital to the operation's success. Who would believe the men could get away with the things they did unless Hogan was there cheering them on? How would they get away with this?
"I don't have a Plan B," Hogan hissed.
Newkirk went cold at Hogan's obvious fear. "Sure you do, gov'nor: us," he said, trying to sound confident.
"To be quite honest, I'd feel better if you were back at camp," Hogan answered, concentrating more than necessary on the road ahead of them.
"I know, gov'nor," Newkirk said. "But the men wouldn't."
Hogan's eyes thanked Newkirk in the dimness. Then Hogan turned back to check that Carter was still following. "You okay?" he asked, falling into step with him.
"Sure, Colonel," Carter answered. "Just thinking about the charges. You know if we wire it right—"
"Save it for the real thing," Hogan said.
"Begging your pardon, Colonel, but you're not looking real good," Carter said.
Hogan paused. He knew he must look awful; over the course of the evening, the last dose of morphine that he had allowed Wilson to give him had worn off, and without it he was starting to be acutely aware of the fact that he had not completely recovered from the violent beatings he had received in Hammelburg. Still, the fact that one of his men had noticed niggled at him, since he knew it meant they were going to be focusing more on him than on the task at hand. And that, especially in this situation, could be a fatal distraction. "Looks can be deceiving," he said simply.
"Well, yeah, some of the time. But y'know, Colonel, you've been doing an awful lot of walking tonight, and with your leg—"
"Carter," Newkirk broke in, noticing Hogan's slowing pace and dropping back to walk with them, "let's try not to aggravate the nice men behind us with the rifles, eh?" He pushed the Sergeant ahead a bit and away from Hogan.
Carter glanced back at the guards, then ahead at Hochstetter, and they all walked the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the bridge, Hochstetter led them to an obscured area and revealed a cache of explosives equipment. "Here is what we will use," he said. He gestured for Hogan, Newkirk, and Carter to reach in and take some of it. "If you get started right away we can be done in no time."
Hogan picked up a stick of dynamite and looked at Hochstetter. "You're going to have to help us out here; it's not like we know what to do."
Hochstetter looked disappointed. "Now, now, Hogan. You are grown men; surely you can put something together that will look presentable. Nevertheless…" He reached for some charges and some wires and started fiddling with them, clearly not familiar with the way to handle or set them.
Carter couldn't help himself. "No, Major, you have to put the white one in the other direction. Otherwise you won't get as good a—"
"Carter!" Hogan warned severely.
Carter realized his mistake instantly. "As—as good a—a creative effect. You know, in the moonlight," he fumbled. "The white of the wires next to that would not have a nice aesthetic look—"
"Arts student in college," Hogan explained, as Hochstetter eyed Carter suspiciously.
"He does the same thing in the barracks," put in Newkirk. "Always trying to rearrange the dirt to make it look pleasing to the eye."
"We'd better do it ourselves," Hogan said. "He's very temperamental about his art."
"Just get to work," Hochstetter growled, shoving the pieces he had been working on into Hogan's hands. Hogan twisted some wires around a stick of dynamite with a flourish, and allowed Carter to frown and "tsk" and rearrange it so it would be more artistic—and, unbeknownst to Hochstetter, quite deadly.
Newkirk went directly to work on wiring the bridge, glancing at his watch and wondering how Kinch and Le Beau were making out on their end, and hoping they wouldn't be far off.