No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is inferred or implied. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.

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It was with mixed emotions that Colonel Klink watched the truck pull into camp just before sundown. That it had returned was a good sign: Colonel Hogan was more than likely being returned. But it equally gave the commandant a feeling of foreboding: Hogan was not likely to be the same fit man who had left in the wee hours of the morning. Throughout the day Klink had debated the idea of what to do if Hogan came back. ~~WHEN he comes back~~ he had forced himself to think, though he knew there was no guarantee. Not being completely naïve, Klink knew that Hogan would be tortured while in the hands of Schoreit and people like him, and that he would need more professional medical attention than he could receive in the prison camp. At the risk of having criticism rain down on him, Klink had decided to get in his private physician to look after his senior POW at Stalag 13. As the truck ground to a halt, he reminded himself of his decision, and prayed he could keep his resolve.

Underneath Barracks Two, the heroes had already been informed of Hogan's imminent return. The Underground had thoroughly examined him, and continued with precious penicillin to help fight the fever coursing through his body, but left his injuries mainly untouched. They changed him into the clothes his men had provided, dirtied and crushed, and then simply kept watch on him until they considered it time enough to take him back. Hogan had woken only briefly, but the morphine administered to help him cope with the pain sank him back into a troubled unconsciousness, away from his excruciating reality.

Knowing he was in good hands had not stopped Hogan's men from being anxious; they were on pins and needles all day, something that Klink had excused in light of what he knew would have been a frightening intrusion in the middle of the night. Klink responded to their anxiety by giving them time to themselves, and while the men told themselves that they should catch up on the sleep they did not get the night before, they found they could do no more than catnap, then wake up with a start, wondering if it was time for Hogan to be returned to them at last.

Now, the same Gestapo officer who had invaded Klink's quarters early in the day was climbing out of the truck, motioning for another soldier to unload its cargo from the back. He walked toward Klink with a smirk on his face. "Yes, Klink, your Colonel Hogan is only human," he said. "But he is a very strong human. He would say nothing about an Underground operation. Obviously he is not part of any sabotage ring, as I am certain he would not have been able to resist my persuasive questioning."

It was then that Klink saw a filthy, limp figure being dragged out of the truck and discarded onto the ground. The jacket was familiar, the hat thrown after him recognizable. "Good God-Colonel Hogan," Klink gasped. He broke away from the Gestapo officer and stood over Hogan. "Is he alive?" he breathed.

"At the moment," came the voice from behind him. "As I said, he is a very strong human. And perhaps too clever for his own good. You may do as you wish with him. Gute Jagd, Herr Oberst. Heil Hitler." And with a smart salute to the Fuhrer's health, the officer and the truck left the camp.

Klink took only a moment to gather his thoughts. He bent down to look at his senior POW more closely. Hogan had obviously been severely beaten. There was some movement but it appeared to be vague, involuntary. Aside from an occasional groan Klink could see no sign of alertness or consciousness. Hogan was filthy and bloody, and even lying nearly face down in the dirt Klink could see that his face had been targeted; a scabbing- over cut on his cheek brought horror scenes to his mind that Klink pushed away. He tried to turn Hogan over and was met with more persistent moans of protest, then silence. Any touch produced cringes from the American. It had obviously been a relentless interrogation.

"Schultz!" called Klink, unable to look any closer.

The Sergeant came bustling over. "Jawohl, Herr Kommand-" Schultz cut himself short when he saw Hogan. "Herr Kommandant-?" he started, unsure how to ask what he wanted to know.

"Come, Schultz, let us get him to his quarters. I am sure he will want to be with his men."

Schultz lifted Hogan, and Klink retrieved the American's cap, gripping it tensely as the crossed the compound. Hogan remained still and silent now. While the truck had been in camp, most of the prisoners had kept their distance. But now they were starting to gather, and the murmur was getting louder and angrier. "Out of the way, out of the way," Klink waved at the crowding men. As they got nearer to Barracks Two, Hogan's closest companions came barreling towards them. Le Beau was spewing invectives in his native tongue, and the others were clamoring to help. "The door, get the door," Klink ordered. Carter opened it quickly, then ran ahead to open the door to Hogan's room. Schultz very gently deposited Hogan on his bunk.

"I will send for my personal physician to tend to Colonel Hogan," Klink said, his voice oddly strangled. He turned and left the barracks without another word, still gripping Hogan's cap. Schultz turned to follow him, then looked back at the others.

"The Kommandant's doctor is very good," he said. He shuffled a bit on his feet. "We do not all agree with the way the Fatherland is conducting this war," he mumbled.

"Neither do we, Schultzie," Newkirk said.

"You want to be one of the good guys, don't you, Schultz?" said Carter.

"I want to be a proper and loyal German soldier!" Schultz suddenly stood tall and spoke loudly. Then he said in almost a whisper, "But I cannot be proud of my country when we treat good men like Colonel Hogan like this. Outside of the war, he is someone I would want to be a friend."

"He would be your friend, Schultz," predicted Le Beau kindly. He patted the Sergeant's arm. "Go on, now. See if you can get some firewood, it is too cold in here for him."

"Ja. Yes I will," Schultz said determinedly. And he left with new purpose in his step.

Newkirk immediately went to the lower bunk in the main room and tapped the side. It rose, and Little Red Riding Hood stepped into the Barracks, still in his Gestapo uniform. He followed Newkirk back to Hogan's bed.

Carter and Le Beau were watching as Kinch gave Hogan a quick examination of his own. "So what's the story?" Kinch asked the Underground agent.

"He woke once while with us, but was not very coherent. We gave him morphine to handle the discomfort, but stopped about three hours ago-if he came back here with no pain it would arouse suspicion, and we did not want to take a chance on a possible overdose if another doctor also gives him medication. We could not tend to his wounds for obvious reasons, but I can assure you they are many and serious. He has broken ribs, a broken ankle, his arms require washing and wrapping carefully-I would say ropes have caused those burns near his wrists. That cut on his face is threatening infection. We have given him penicillin and cleaned it a bit, but again we could not do more for fear of giving away what really transpired. He still has a fever; hopefully the penicillin will combat that. We have precious little of it, but we have left a supply downstairs. The Papa Bear's health is imperative. We have done all we can; I feel it is most inadequate given the risk the Colonel has taken to help our cause."

"You've done well, Red Riding Hood," said Kinch. "We couldn't have explained this without help, and that would have put us all in danger."

"You'd better go," said Carter. "Klink will be back soon."

"Fine," said Red Riding Hood. "I will be glad to get out of this disgusting attire. Please tell Papa Bear that the Underground is grateful. We are indebted to all of you, many times over." And he was escorted back to the tunnel, then slipped out of the camp.

A few minutes later, Klink burst back into the barracks, and told the men his physician would be at the camp within the hour. "I will give the good doctor authority to do as he sees fit," he added. The others nodded. "I want you to know, gentlemen, that I did try to stop the Gestapo from taking Colonel Hogan. I told Herr Colonel Schoreit that he had already been questioned." He looked at Hogan, repulsed by his injuries but unable to look away. "But that obviously made no difference," he said flatly.

"Thanks, Kommandant," said Newkirk.

"Yeah, thanks for sticking up for him," added Carter.

Klink merely nodded. "I will send the doctor over when he arrives." He paused. "The sooner Colonel Hogan recovers, the sooner this camp will return to normal," he said, only half intending it for the men. ~~The sooner I can stop feeling guilty for being a member of the Luftwaffe.~~

When Doctor Dreger arrived, he was ushered into Barracks Two, where the faces of four anxious men met him at the door. "Please, gentlemen, please, I will do what I can," he said to them. "But first you must let me examine him. Leave me, please."

He shooed them out of Hogan's quarters and shut the door behind him. Carter twiddled his thumbs; Kinch started and stopped making a cup of coffee four times; Newkirk read and reread the same page of an old book, never succeeding in having it make sense; and Le Beau drummed his fingers on the table, constantly looking over at the door. A couple of times they could hear some muffled noises, and once they heard an anguished cry come from Hogan, at which they all jumped and considered barging in for an explanation. But the noise stopped and the door remained silent and unyielding. Newkirk was reminded to his frustration that he did not have X- ray vision, though he did seem to be looking right through the page of the book he was holding.

After what seemed like hours Doctor Dreger finally emerged. He wiped his hands with a towel, then wiped his brow, shaking his head wearily. Silently he came further into the room and picked up a mug from the stove. Kinch poured some now lukewarm brown liquid into it. The doctor sighed heavily, then turned toward the men.

"Your Colonel Hogan is a very strong man," he said at last. Hogan's friends waited. Doctor Dreger took a long drink, then continued. "The Gestapo are not renowned for their tortuous methods without cause. Colonel Hogan as you no doubt know has some severe injuries and is battling an infection as well. Colonel Klink was wise to call in someone from the outside." He stopped, hoping that would be all that was necessary. But Klink had warned Dreger that Hogan's men were fiercely loyal, and would be expecting more. So he explained further. "He should be in hospital. But Colonel Klink is reluctant to do that," he added quickly, noticing the alarmed looks. "He thought, and I would have to agree, that it is better for a man to be among his friends when trying to recover from a traumatic experience, than to be in an unfamiliar environment."

"So how is he now, Doctor?" asked Kinch.

"He awakened while I was examining him. I-apologise for the-noise you no doubt heard. I would have preferred him to remain unaware that I was checking him over. I had to give quite a tug to remove his boot, and it was uncomfortable, to say the least. He is, however, resting easy now. Antibiotics will attend to the fever, and also to the infection from the cut on his face. That will, I hope, begin healing of its own accord in the next few days."

"What can we do, Docteur?" asked Le Beau.

"Be there for him," he said simply. "I will make sure you have proper medication, and will come to check and change his dressings. But the most arduous healing will need to be done in his mind, not his body. And he will need you for that."

"You can count on it," said Newkirk.

Doctor Dreger then instructed them on the proper methods of dispensing the antibiotics, promised to be back frequently to change the dressings and check on Hogan's progress, and left, to report to Klink. Hogan's men consoled each other, and kept vigil beside him. They knew all they could do now was wait.