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

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

The bleak sun came up early at Stalag 13, and when Hogan came out of his room after a now not uncommon restless night he found his men already up. Newkirk was sitting at the table, hunched over some papers, doing what appeared to be very detailed work.

"What's the go, Peter?" asked Hogan.

"I'm just making sure everything is perfect with these, Colonel," he said, holding up one of the documents he had put together for when he and Hogan went to the Landgasthaus.

Hogan nodded. So Newkirk was anxious too; it was unlike him to go back to work he had completed. "Don't worry, Newkirk. The papers are perfect. You're the best forger I know," Hogan said. "Actually I think you're the only forger I know. But don't let that detract from the compliment."

Newkirk chuckled, appreciating the effort Hogan was taking. "I won't," he said. "Thanks, Colonel. Everything all ready now?"

"Everything that can be," he said, pouring a cup of coffee. He sat down as Carter joined them. "You all packed, Andrew?"

"Oh, yes, sir!" Carter enthused. "I've got everything bundled up in a nice tidy package, ready to put in the back of the car with the uniforms Louis pressed yesterday."

"Good. When it comes out of the motor pool, you and Le Beau will make your move."

"Right, Colonel."

"Been in the tunnel yet today, Kinch?" asked Hogan.

"Not yet, sir," answered the radioman. "We're due for final contact from London at oh-seven-hundred-thirty hours."

"Okay," Hogan said, as Le Beau came and shoved a cup of steaming brew in his hands. "Thanks, Louis."

"Drink it," ordered the Frenchman. "And you will eat the breakfast I bring you, too," he added. "I do not want you to faint from hunger in front of the nice maniacs."

"If it'd make you happy, Le Beau, I'd eat the slop they serve here."

"I did not say anything about suicide," Le Beau answered. "Just make sure you eat."

"That goes for you fellas, too," said Hogan. "Rumbling stomachs look bad in a German uniform."

"I doubt we'll be starving with Schultz around," Newkirk predicted. "How many snack stops do you think we'll have to make on the way in?"

Hogan laughed quietly. "Not too many I hope—the meeting starts today."

The banter amongst the men continued, but Hogan backed out of it and observed. He had given up long ago trying to guess how he had come to be in charge of this diverse group of men.  What on the surface was a ragtag, undisciplined assortment, underneath was an organised, determined and dedicated team that used humour and self-deprecation to break up the tension that could tear apart an inter-dependent operation if left unchecked. Hogan counted himself as blessed for being able to work with these men, who, like him, knew what had to be done, and did it.

But though they trusted and counted on him, thanks to his rank Hogan still felt somewhat isolated from his men. He had never been one to pull rank, except when it would endanger his operation of the lives of the men under his command. But his duty also meant that he could not confide fully in his charges. The job of a senior officer was to keep his men's minds fixed on the job at hand, and safe from any unnecessary dangers. And wondering if their commander was shaking in his boots was not something that helped keep them focused. So with few exceptions, Hogan kept his thoughts and fears to himself, only in his weakest moments revealing any unease. The gnawing at his insides was telling him this was one of those moments. But he was determined to fight it this time. There was too much at stake for a single thought to sidetrack them, and he didn't think he could endure the guilt that would follow if anyone got hurt, or worse, killed, because of his own Achilles' heel.

His reflection didn't last long, though, as the familiar rousing to roll call brought them to their feet. As usual, Hogan strolled out after most of the others had left the barracks, zipping up his jacket and casually putting on his cap. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Hogan noted with wry amusement the almost effervescent strut of Colonel Klink as he approached from his office across the compound, stopping with a flourish in front of the gathered prisoners.

"Good morning gentlemen; Schultz," Klink greeted, rocking back and forth on his toes. Schultz just pursed his lips, used to the insults. "Report, Sergeant!" Klink almost sang.

"Herr Kommandant, all prisoners present and accounted for."

"Very good, Schultz," said Klink. He turned to the prisoners. "It has come to my attention, gentlemen, that there has not been ample opportunity for you to exhibit your humane tendencies here at Stalag 13. And because I am, after all, a compassionate kommandant, I have given Colonel Hogan permission to go to Hammelburg today with four of his men to put those inclinations into practice. They will be under armed guard, of course, and if they try to escape they will be shot." Hogan shook his head; Klink always did know how to make a heartening speech. "The rest of you will remain in camp, on light work detail for the day." Hogan shrugged. Not bad. "You may complete any heavy work first thing in the morning." Way to go, Kommandant, Hogan chided.

After this little oration, Klink seemed in a hurry to dismiss the men. He waved his hand as though to scatter them, then approached Hogan. "Nice touch, Kommandant. Light duties today," Hogan said, hiding his urge to explain to Klink how to really motivate people.

"Thank you, Hogan," Klink said. "Are you all ready to go?"

"Oh yes, sir. Le Beau and Carter have a few special polishes they'd like to bring along that will make the interior just perfect. You know how easy it is for it to become faded and worn without proper care." He glanced at his watch. "We'd better be on our way, Kommandant. Places to go… frauleins to see…."

"Of course, Hogan, of course. The car will be out of the motor pool in a few minutes. Schultz!" he called.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz came hastily and stood at attention.

"See that the car is ready immediately. Bring it to the front of my office."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant." He saluted, then relaxed, and leaned over to Hogan. "Colonel Hogan—"

"Yes, Schultz?"

"Corporal Le Beau—he is still planning to bring the food he has been cooking?"

"Of course, Schultz. Nice day like this we might even stop and have a picnic. He's packing a basket."

Schultz smiled. "I will get the car," he said, then dreamed his way away.

Hogan had a sudden inspiration, and called after him. "Oh, Schultz!"

"Yes, Colonel Hogan?"

"Le Beau's really fussy about his cooking. You'll have to let him pack the trunk alone, or he might think it's not fit to serve." And he might not be able to smuggle in the explosives and uniforms otherwise. "You know the French," he added with an indulgent smile.

"Of course, Colonel Hogan. I will see that he has complete privacy." He turned on his heel and shuffled quickly toward the motor pool.

"I knew you would," Hogan muttered.

"I have told Schultz that you are to be back by sunset, Hogan," Klink said sternly. Then his demeanour suddenly changed. "Will that be enough time to make arrangements with a beautiful fraulein?"

"Any fraulein with taste should agree to a lovely evening out with an esteemed member of the Luftwaffe in mere minutes." Klink looked as though he were reconsidering the time away. "But the car, of course, Colonel, will take longer. We'll do the best we can with it in the time we have. Your German mechanics might be good, but they don't pay any attention to the little details. And that's what women like: the details. It's the little things that win their heart."

"Of course you're right, Hogan. Take all the time you need."

Hogan smiled. This might not be so bad after all.