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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Hogan wasn't sure whether it was the tightness in his chest or the tight packing of people in the car that was making him feel queasy. As he, his four men, and Schultz crowded into Klink's car, he realised it was going to be a close fit and, never being fond of cramped quarters, he had tried to claim the front seat for himself. But lack of space meant Le Beau had to squeeze in between him and Schultz, who was at the wheel. And right now Le Beau was nauseatingly speaking of food, something Hogan could not stomach easily as his insides churned in anticipation of the mission ahead.
He had to admit Le Beau was doing a great job of piquing the guard's interest. Since they had left the camp fifteen minutes ago, Le Beau had tantalized Schultz's tastebuds with verbal images of the tasty morsels he had lovingly packed into the trunk of the car. That, thought Hogan, satisfied, and a dessert of charges and timers. And Schultz had happily taken the bait, at least once nearly running off the road while his mind was already feasting on the promised delicacies.
"Don't you worry, Schultz, you will be enjoying a lovely pastry soon enough," Le Beau said. "Maybe with some wine, a loaf of bread…"
"Yeah, but first he has to get us to Hammelburg in one piece," commented Newkirk from the back. "Take it easy, up there, will y', Schultzie?"
"We are nearly there," Schultz announced, more to satisfy his own cravings than to keep his charges informed. "And it is nearly lunch time!"
"It's 10:30 AM!" contradicted Carter.
"My day starts early, so my mealtimes do, too," defended the guard simply.
Hogan remained quiet, his eyes concentrating on the road ahead. His mind was already in the Landgasthaus, anxiously waiting for Voelker to provide them with the information the Allies needed to deter this Luftwaffe attack. And he was mentally going through their plan of action: he and Newkirk to break away and head to the rendezvous; Carter and Le Beau to arrange to get the cars booby-trapped; Kinch to keep Schultz occupied. Hogan regretted having to give Kinch a low-level job, no matter how vital it was. But in broad daylight in World War Two Germany, a black man could hardly pass himself off as anyone official. And he certainly did know the workings of Schultz's mind. It gave Hogan a small feeling of security to know that someone as sturdy as Kinch was going to be holding everything together for them.
In the back of his brain, the question of rigging the cars troubled Hogan. He knew that this mission could not be considered a success unless all of London's orders had been followed. He knew that the only way to ensure any offensive didn't get off the ground was for no one to escape with the campaign on paper—or in his mind. And he knew that there was no one else who could do this but him and his men.
But he could still hear the question: How do you defend yourself? If things went to plan a dozen lives would be sacrificed. To save thousands, he tried to argue with himself. But maybe the offensive will be abandoned and it will all come to nought… what will your defence be then? Hogan shifted in his cramped seat, almost as though trying to physically push the idea away. You're arguing with yourself over nothing, he reprimanded himself. Stop thinking and do your job.
"Are we there yet?" Carter whined, shaking Hogan out of his reverie.
"Carter, didn't your mother ever tell you that's an irritating question?" asked Kinch.
"All the time," Carter responded. "But she never answered it. So I still need to know."
Hogan shook his head. Comic relief.
None too soon for Hogan's taste, the car rolled into a fenced-in area in Hammelburg. Schultz pulled up beside a neglected building with several cars nearby in a concrete lot. "This is where Colonel Klink says his mechanic does his best work?" Schultz questioned doubtfully.
Hogan gratefully got out of the car and took in a deep breath. He and the others surveyed their surroundings. "This is where we were told to come, Schultz," he said. By our contact, he added silently.
"I don't see anyone," said Carter.
"Doesn't matter," chirped Hogan. "We'll just get working ourselves." He continued to look around, and noted a German soldier standing near the gate. "Friend of yours, Schultz?"
"No, Colonel Hogan," responded Schultz, glancing toward the man, who was now turning in their direction.
"Never mind," said Hogan. He nodded to Le Beau. "Louis, how about some brunch for our friend Schultz?"
"Ah, oui, mon Colonel," said the Corporal. He headed to the back of the car. "I only wish we had some wine and a nice stick of bread to put with this." Schultz, mouth nearly watering, came to Le Beau's side. Le Beau held up a hand to stop him. "Schultz, what did I say about you manhandling my creations?"
"I am sorry, Le Beau. I will keep my distance." And he stood at attention respectfully near the driver's door. Le Beau opened the back of the car, carefully removed the explosives from the basket, and emerged with the remaining spread.
"It will be a bit of a buffet today, gentlemen," Le Beau said. "And a dry one at that," he said with disgust. The French had to have wine with meals. Period.
"What is going on here?" came a gruff voice. Everyone turned to see the soldier who had been at the gate, standing behind Hogan.
"Heil Hitler," greeted Schultz, saluting the higher-ranked officer.
"Heil Hitler," the soldier responded, returning the salute. "What are you doing here with these men?"
"We are here to fix Kommandant Klink's car," Schultz began.
"That's right, from Stalag 13," piped up Carter.
"Colonel Robert Hogan, senior POW," said Hogan, extending his hand. The look on the German's face withered the smile on Hogan's, and he took back his hand.
"We are not supposed to have any unnecessary traffic in this area today," the soldier said. "By order of the SS."
Schultz shuddered at the mention of the Nazi police. "We were not informed, Herr Kapitan," Schultz wavered. "The Kommandant must have his car serviced by tomorrow."
"Why the crackdown?" Hogan asked good-naturedly.
"None of your business, American," said the soldier. Hogan shrugged. The soldier turned to Schultz. "I am Kapitan Strohm, SS. On special duty today. It is my responsibility to make sure there are no unnecessary intrusions. If your Kommandant has special needs he will have to make certain they do not interfere with SS business."
"Sergeant Hans Schultz. And I am sure they will not, sir!" Schultz said.
"What do these men need to do?"
"We're here to make sure everything is handled properly. We're the only mechanics the Kommandant trusts," Hogan said with a laugh.
"I am sorry to hear that," Strohm replied. Hogan exchanged looks with his men.
"Believe it or not, we actually are good mechanics and car detailers," Hogan said. "As a matter of fact we were just about to head out to get a few special parts to make this car something worthy of a Luftwaffe Colonel."
Schultz's mind drifted to the picnic that Le Beau had put back in the car when Strohm appeared. The last thing on his mind was getting spare parts for Klink's car. He wanted the buffet, wine or no wine.
"You will stay here, Sergeant Schultz. I will take this Colonel…Hogan, and…" he surveyed the others, then pointed to Newkirk, "you, with me, to get the things you need."
"Hey, now wait a minute," Hogan protested. "You can't just hand us over like a loaf of bread, Schultz. We don't even know this guy."
Strohm straightened as though to make himself taller. He reached into his breast coat pocket. "My papers," he said, handing them to Schultz. "You will understand, of course, that I cannot allow any disturbance today. If you want to fulfill your Kommandant's orders, you will have to involve me."
Schultz gazed vaguely at the papers and then handed them back. His own papers looked just as unremarkable. Only this man probably made more money than he did. Sighing, he nodded his head. "Perhaps you can get a bottle of wine while you are away, Colonel Hogan," he said.
"Wine?" questioned Strohm.
"And some bread, too, Colonel," said Le Beau.
"Bread? And wine?"
"Oh, and don't forget to set things up with that beautiful fraulein!" Carter added.
"Bread? Wine? Women? This is sounding more like a party than a work detail, Sergeant!" suspected Strohm.
"You fellas may have to get the bread and the wine on your own," Hogan said, starting to walk toward the gate. "We'll work on the fraulein…if I can get Chuckles here to agree to it."
Strohm glared at Hogan. "Someday, Colonel Hogan, the Gestapo may have reason to question you." Hogan stopped mid-step. "When that happens I hope I am there to witness it."
A scene flashed through Hogan's brain, one of those that had appeared often, trying to make his sometimes foggy Gestapo ordeal clear, but blessedly failing. He collected himself, then followed the prompting of Strohm's rifle and headed toward the gate with Newkirk close behind.