No ownership of Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.
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"Sacre bleu!" Le Beau couldn't help his outburst at the news Kinch had just delivered. "Kinch, we have to do something!"
"I'm not sure what we can do now--they're probably already there," Kinch answered, a ball of nervous energy.
"But if it's a trap we've gotta do SOMETHING, we can't just leave them to get captured!" Carter said.
London had just radioed through chilling news--their mission for the night had been uncovered by the Germans, and immediately called off. Hansel and Gretel wouldn't be at the rendezvous tonight, and Hogan was to cease operations immediately until things quieted down. Unfortunately, the message was a little too late--Hogan had left more than thirty minutes ago. Kinch tried to collect his thoughts. There had to be something they could do; they couldn't let Hogan, and possibly Newkirk, walk straight into enemy hands. If they were being sought, then Hochstetter would surely have a hand in any interrogation. And that wouldn't go well, especially for Hogan.
Kinch slammed his fist down on the table. "Why didn't they give us more warning? They must have KNOWN Colonel Hogan was going to be gone by now--and Red Riding Hood."
"That doesn't matter; what matters now is getting the Colonel and Newkirk back-- preferably WITHOUT any interference from the Gestapo," said Le Beau. He paused, thought. "We will have to go after them. If they don't come back here we won't have any way of knowing what has happened. At least if we are there we will be able to try to rescue them."
"Right," agreed Kinch. "I'll notify the Underground to keep a lookout for them. We're going to need all the eyes we can get."
"I'll start getting the next set of charges ready just in case," put in Carter. "We're going to run out at the rate I'm handing them out tonight!"
"Let's just get moving," urged Le Beau, impatient. "Every minute we stand here is another minute closer to the Gestapo getting to the Colonel and maybe Newkirk."
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The drive to the rendezvous point only took a few minutes, but Hogan was grateful for the warmth and the rest. He was briefed on more of the mission before his contact started driving; this shipment was the biggest single delivery of ammunition ordered for the duration of the war. Things weren't going well at the Russian front, and reinforcements were being sent, along with so much firepower that the Germans could not fail to make some progress, even if they were all blind shots. Hansel and Gretel had the details of when and where the delivery was coming, apparently by truck and by train. Hogan tried to think how he could possibly be in two places at once, and wished quite unexpectedly that he hadn't told Newkirk to stay behind. Carter was the expert, but he had wanted the Englishman's cool, unexcitable mind for this one. Now he had neither, and Hogan himself wasn't thinking well enough for one.
The car approached the rendezvous point slowly and quietly, pulling up in a darkened area. The driver pointed to a cluster of rocks about one hundred meters away that marked the meeting ground. "This is where I take my leave," said Little Red Riding Hood. "Your contacts will be here soon, Colonel Hogan."
Hogan looked around, concerned. "This isn't place we agreed on yesterday."
"No, Colonel. But don't worry. London told your men today when they changed security. Hansel and Gretel will be here as planned. I must take my leave. The car is too obvious to anyone passing; you can hide much better on your own."
Hogan extended his hand. "Thanks for the lift," he said.
The contact took it. "No thanks necessary," he replied. "Good luck. You're going to need it."
Hogan left the warmth of the vehicle, and without so much as a look in his direction the contact slipped quietly into the night. Hogan slid out his gun as he backed up to the trees. Defying any weariness, his level of alertness was high now; he didn't like being out of control, and a new rendezvous spot was reason enough to be cautious. He tried to calm the panic rising in his chest when he realised he wasn't sure exactly where he was. Some of the landmarks were familiar, but he had relied solely on his contact during the trip and had not done his usual surveillance of the route on the way over. It had been too tempting to absorb the softness of the seat, and the lulling purr of the engine. He should be about five miles from camp. But thinking about the length of the trip, he realised he was probably a bit further afield. ~~Maybe it's closer to the shipment's route,~~ he hoped, berating himself for not paying more attention earlier.
His eyes scanned around him, trying to take in every rock, every tree, every bush. Was that a man he saw near that scrub?--No, just a shadow from the stump nearby. Where were Hansel and Gretel? Surely it was the appointed hour. Maybe they had left-- Hogan had been slower than he thought; perhaps they thought he had abandoned the mission and returned to the safety of their own cover story lives. But that wasn't the set-up. Then again, neither was this.
Hogan heard what he thought was an owl calling in the trees beyond the rock cluster. A signal. Or was it really just an owl? Hogan wasn't sure. He didn't want to stick his neck out, and got a sudden sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong. He wasn't sure what, but his gut instinct was telling him that this time he was in over his head. He wanted to pass it off as the effects of his injuries, but he knew in his heart that it wasn't. If this really WAS the meeting point, Hansel and Gretel would have been here by now. Gun at the ready, he was nonetheless surprised to find himself slightly trembling as he tried to retreat further into the woods. He would follow the route the car had taken, at least that much Hogan was sure of. It would lead him back to the checkpoint and from there he could work his way back to Stalag 13. Mission aborted: all parties not present and accounted for.
Hogan turned and found himself facing the barrel of a rifle. "Well, Herr Colonel, a bit far from home, aren't you?"
Hogan felt his heart drop to his feet as he faced the young guard. SS. And this man knew who he was. He had walked straight into it, he thought. What had happened to Hansel and Gretel? And somehow, even though he knew all the right codes had been exchanged, Hogan couldn't help wondering if Little Red Riding Hood had been part of a plot to set him up, and Hansel and Gretel never had any intention of coming to this out-of-the-way place. How could he warn them? And how could he himself get away? All of these thoughts flashed through his mind in mere seconds. But he calmly answered, "My car broke down, and the auto club won't come this far out."
From his hiding spot Newkirk could see what was happening. He had hardly had time to think between the time he saw Hogan slipping through the trees, and now, when he was watching with increasing fear the encounter between Hogan and the SS guard. It had all happened in a matter of seconds. He had wanted to warn Hogan, but knew that doing so would only serve to get them both captured. He wanted to help now, but knew that the same result would occur. He could do more for his commanding officer by being able to alert the others than he could if they simply both disappeared off the face of the earth. But it was only a supernatural force that was stopping him from coming out shouting and shooting.
"What are you doing out here, Colonel Hogan?" the guard asked, prodding Hogan with the barrel of his rifle.
Hogan's thoughts drifted down to the explosives pack hidden under his shirt. He tightened his grip on his pistol. Trying to think fast, he felt a trickle of sweat run down the back of his shirt. It ran like ice down a hot shower wall. Why did this man know him? And did he dare try to make a move? As he felt his physical strength dripping away, he told himself he had to do something now... or never.
Newkirk was madly scouting the area--where had that other SS officer gone? Maybe if he could get that one, he and Hogan could overpower the other one together. ~~God, why is this happening? Please, PLEASE let the gov'nor get out of this one, and let us get HOME!~~
"Such a nice night I decided to go for a walk," Hogan was answering. ~~Blimey, even in the face of the bleeding SS!~~ thought Newkirk.
"Who were you meeting out here, Colonel?" insisted the guard. Newkirk watched, flinching, as Hogan made a desperate movement to disarm the guard using his own weapon. But the guard, by far the stronger of the pair, simply stepped out of the way, then used his rifle to strike Hogan, first on the arm and then across the back of the neck, sending the American's gun flying, and knocking Hogan to the ground.
Hogan gasped for breath, groaning while he rubbed his neck. His arm was sore where the first rifle blow had struck him, and Hogan got to his knees, caressing it. Holding his arm close to his body and bending over, he used the moment to secretly loosen the explosives pack from around his waist and let it slip soundlessly to the ground into the darkness.
"Get up," the man was poking him. "You will come with us now to Gestapo Headquarters. I'm sure you will have looser lips there."
As Hogan started to rise, the guard struck at his right leg with his rifle and laughed. Hogan cried out and staggered. It was then that it clicked--this was the guard in Barracks Two whose face he had focused on in order to avoid falling during Hochstetter's attempt to expose him. This meant only one thing to Hogan: the guard would have to be disposed of. How and when he wasn't sure. But it had to be before the man had a chance to tell Hochstetter, or it would surely be Hogan's life sacrificed instead.
The click of a safety device being removed from a weapon made Hogan turn around. Another SS guard had appeared, and was holding a gun cocked near his prisoner's head. Through now hazy vision Hogan watched the men who were controlling him. One pulled him to his feet and pushed him roughly toward the other. "Let's go. We can continue your walk on this nice evening, Colonel." The guard picked up Hogan's weapon, not noticing the waist pack Hogan had tried hiding under leaves, and ignored the stumbling of his badly limping captive.
Newkirk stayed stock still until he was sure the trio was gone. Then he stood up and ran as fast as he could back towards Stalag 13. He was going to need help, if he ever hoped to see Colonel Hogan alive again.
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"Sacre bleu!" Le Beau couldn't help his outburst at the news Kinch had just delivered. "Kinch, we have to do something!"
"I'm not sure what we can do now--they're probably already there," Kinch answered, a ball of nervous energy.
"But if it's a trap we've gotta do SOMETHING, we can't just leave them to get captured!" Carter said.
London had just radioed through chilling news--their mission for the night had been uncovered by the Germans, and immediately called off. Hansel and Gretel wouldn't be at the rendezvous tonight, and Hogan was to cease operations immediately until things quieted down. Unfortunately, the message was a little too late--Hogan had left more than thirty minutes ago. Kinch tried to collect his thoughts. There had to be something they could do; they couldn't let Hogan, and possibly Newkirk, walk straight into enemy hands. If they were being sought, then Hochstetter would surely have a hand in any interrogation. And that wouldn't go well, especially for Hogan.
Kinch slammed his fist down on the table. "Why didn't they give us more warning? They must have KNOWN Colonel Hogan was going to be gone by now--and Red Riding Hood."
"That doesn't matter; what matters now is getting the Colonel and Newkirk back-- preferably WITHOUT any interference from the Gestapo," said Le Beau. He paused, thought. "We will have to go after them. If they don't come back here we won't have any way of knowing what has happened. At least if we are there we will be able to try to rescue them."
"Right," agreed Kinch. "I'll notify the Underground to keep a lookout for them. We're going to need all the eyes we can get."
"I'll start getting the next set of charges ready just in case," put in Carter. "We're going to run out at the rate I'm handing them out tonight!"
"Let's just get moving," urged Le Beau, impatient. "Every minute we stand here is another minute closer to the Gestapo getting to the Colonel and maybe Newkirk."
***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****
The drive to the rendezvous point only took a few minutes, but Hogan was grateful for the warmth and the rest. He was briefed on more of the mission before his contact started driving; this shipment was the biggest single delivery of ammunition ordered for the duration of the war. Things weren't going well at the Russian front, and reinforcements were being sent, along with so much firepower that the Germans could not fail to make some progress, even if they were all blind shots. Hansel and Gretel had the details of when and where the delivery was coming, apparently by truck and by train. Hogan tried to think how he could possibly be in two places at once, and wished quite unexpectedly that he hadn't told Newkirk to stay behind. Carter was the expert, but he had wanted the Englishman's cool, unexcitable mind for this one. Now he had neither, and Hogan himself wasn't thinking well enough for one.
The car approached the rendezvous point slowly and quietly, pulling up in a darkened area. The driver pointed to a cluster of rocks about one hundred meters away that marked the meeting ground. "This is where I take my leave," said Little Red Riding Hood. "Your contacts will be here soon, Colonel Hogan."
Hogan looked around, concerned. "This isn't place we agreed on yesterday."
"No, Colonel. But don't worry. London told your men today when they changed security. Hansel and Gretel will be here as planned. I must take my leave. The car is too obvious to anyone passing; you can hide much better on your own."
Hogan extended his hand. "Thanks for the lift," he said.
The contact took it. "No thanks necessary," he replied. "Good luck. You're going to need it."
Hogan left the warmth of the vehicle, and without so much as a look in his direction the contact slipped quietly into the night. Hogan slid out his gun as he backed up to the trees. Defying any weariness, his level of alertness was high now; he didn't like being out of control, and a new rendezvous spot was reason enough to be cautious. He tried to calm the panic rising in his chest when he realised he wasn't sure exactly where he was. Some of the landmarks were familiar, but he had relied solely on his contact during the trip and had not done his usual surveillance of the route on the way over. It had been too tempting to absorb the softness of the seat, and the lulling purr of the engine. He should be about five miles from camp. But thinking about the length of the trip, he realised he was probably a bit further afield. ~~Maybe it's closer to the shipment's route,~~ he hoped, berating himself for not paying more attention earlier.
His eyes scanned around him, trying to take in every rock, every tree, every bush. Was that a man he saw near that scrub?--No, just a shadow from the stump nearby. Where were Hansel and Gretel? Surely it was the appointed hour. Maybe they had left-- Hogan had been slower than he thought; perhaps they thought he had abandoned the mission and returned to the safety of their own cover story lives. But that wasn't the set-up. Then again, neither was this.
Hogan heard what he thought was an owl calling in the trees beyond the rock cluster. A signal. Or was it really just an owl? Hogan wasn't sure. He didn't want to stick his neck out, and got a sudden sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong. He wasn't sure what, but his gut instinct was telling him that this time he was in over his head. He wanted to pass it off as the effects of his injuries, but he knew in his heart that it wasn't. If this really WAS the meeting point, Hansel and Gretel would have been here by now. Gun at the ready, he was nonetheless surprised to find himself slightly trembling as he tried to retreat further into the woods. He would follow the route the car had taken, at least that much Hogan was sure of. It would lead him back to the checkpoint and from there he could work his way back to Stalag 13. Mission aborted: all parties not present and accounted for.
Hogan turned and found himself facing the barrel of a rifle. "Well, Herr Colonel, a bit far from home, aren't you?"
Hogan felt his heart drop to his feet as he faced the young guard. SS. And this man knew who he was. He had walked straight into it, he thought. What had happened to Hansel and Gretel? And somehow, even though he knew all the right codes had been exchanged, Hogan couldn't help wondering if Little Red Riding Hood had been part of a plot to set him up, and Hansel and Gretel never had any intention of coming to this out-of-the-way place. How could he warn them? And how could he himself get away? All of these thoughts flashed through his mind in mere seconds. But he calmly answered, "My car broke down, and the auto club won't come this far out."
From his hiding spot Newkirk could see what was happening. He had hardly had time to think between the time he saw Hogan slipping through the trees, and now, when he was watching with increasing fear the encounter between Hogan and the SS guard. It had all happened in a matter of seconds. He had wanted to warn Hogan, but knew that doing so would only serve to get them both captured. He wanted to help now, but knew that the same result would occur. He could do more for his commanding officer by being able to alert the others than he could if they simply both disappeared off the face of the earth. But it was only a supernatural force that was stopping him from coming out shouting and shooting.
"What are you doing out here, Colonel Hogan?" the guard asked, prodding Hogan with the barrel of his rifle.
Hogan's thoughts drifted down to the explosives pack hidden under his shirt. He tightened his grip on his pistol. Trying to think fast, he felt a trickle of sweat run down the back of his shirt. It ran like ice down a hot shower wall. Why did this man know him? And did he dare try to make a move? As he felt his physical strength dripping away, he told himself he had to do something now... or never.
Newkirk was madly scouting the area--where had that other SS officer gone? Maybe if he could get that one, he and Hogan could overpower the other one together. ~~God, why is this happening? Please, PLEASE let the gov'nor get out of this one, and let us get HOME!~~
"Such a nice night I decided to go for a walk," Hogan was answering. ~~Blimey, even in the face of the bleeding SS!~~ thought Newkirk.
"Who were you meeting out here, Colonel?" insisted the guard. Newkirk watched, flinching, as Hogan made a desperate movement to disarm the guard using his own weapon. But the guard, by far the stronger of the pair, simply stepped out of the way, then used his rifle to strike Hogan, first on the arm and then across the back of the neck, sending the American's gun flying, and knocking Hogan to the ground.
Hogan gasped for breath, groaning while he rubbed his neck. His arm was sore where the first rifle blow had struck him, and Hogan got to his knees, caressing it. Holding his arm close to his body and bending over, he used the moment to secretly loosen the explosives pack from around his waist and let it slip soundlessly to the ground into the darkness.
"Get up," the man was poking him. "You will come with us now to Gestapo Headquarters. I'm sure you will have looser lips there."
As Hogan started to rise, the guard struck at his right leg with his rifle and laughed. Hogan cried out and staggered. It was then that it clicked--this was the guard in Barracks Two whose face he had focused on in order to avoid falling during Hochstetter's attempt to expose him. This meant only one thing to Hogan: the guard would have to be disposed of. How and when he wasn't sure. But it had to be before the man had a chance to tell Hochstetter, or it would surely be Hogan's life sacrificed instead.
The click of a safety device being removed from a weapon made Hogan turn around. Another SS guard had appeared, and was holding a gun cocked near his prisoner's head. Through now hazy vision Hogan watched the men who were controlling him. One pulled him to his feet and pushed him roughly toward the other. "Let's go. We can continue your walk on this nice evening, Colonel." The guard picked up Hogan's weapon, not noticing the waist pack Hogan had tried hiding under leaves, and ignored the stumbling of his badly limping captive.
Newkirk stayed stock still until he was sure the trio was gone. Then he stood up and ran as fast as he could back towards Stalag 13. He was going to need help, if he ever hoped to see Colonel Hogan alive again.
