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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"Okay, so it's a pretty sure bet that Fleischer brought in the bomb," Hogan relayed to his men a short time later. "Either that or the friend Voelker was talking about gave it to him to give to Schultz. Whatever way he did it, we're not likely to see Fleischer again, and we've got big trouble if Schultz takes that parcel to Klink."
"It seems like the plan is to get rid of Klink and Schultz completely," Kinch surmised. "And with them gone…" Kinch's voice trailed off.
"The operation is gone," finished Hogan. "If a bomb goes off in this compound you can bet your bottom dollar Berlin's not going to send another Laurel and Hardy to run things here."
"It'd be bye-bye Kraut patsies… hello Gestapo," said Newkirk.
Hogan nodded. Aside from the obvious repercussions on their operations, he couldn't help but have a small, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when his mind considered what would become of Klink and Schultz personally if he and his men couldn't intercept the bomb. True, in the end they were the enemy, and true, he would follow orders if push came to shove. But if it weren't for Schultz turning his head the other way so often, Hogan truly believed that their operation wouldn't have survived as long as it had. And if Klink had not been, deep down, a compassionate man stuck in a role he did not relish, Hogan and his men could easily have suffered more physically —and mentally—in this camp than they had. Hogan found that he wanted to stop this disaster for Klink and Schultz's sakes, as well as for the sake of himself and his men, a thought that took his conscience by surprise.
"So what are we looking for, Colonel?" asked Kinch.
"Ah, there's the rub," Hogan quoted. "We know where…but we still don't know what. We're going to have to investigate first. And we have precious little time to do it. Kinch, can you get back into those quarters?"
"I think so, Colonel."
"Take Carter with you. You're going to have to play sniffer dog, Carter. Can you do that?"
"I'm part bloodhound, Colonel."
"Yeah, and you keep passin' on your fleas," teased Newkirk, giving him a playful shove.
Hogan allowed himself to enjoy the banter and gave a crooked smile before continuing. "See if you can find anything that could pass as a bomb. We're going to have to replace it, and quick. But don't try to diffuse it, just bring it back here. We don't know what sets it off and I don't want any dead heroes." He was trying to be lighthearted but wasn't succeeding. His concern was real. He trusted his men to try to do the right thing. But he also knew they were walking into danger, and it gnawed at him that he couldn't take the risk away from them. As a leader he had to knowingly send his men into jeopardy, and they had never shirked their duty. But he always felt like a father pushing his sons in front of moving vehicles, and knew that if something happened to any of them, the sorrow, and the guilt, would be unbearable.
"We'll be fine, Colonel," Kinch said, understanding. "We'll bring it here. It must be able to be handled, or Fleischer wouldn't have been able to give it to Schultz. We'll figure out how to get rid of it when we know what we're dealing with."
Hogan nodded, appreciating Kinch's unspoken insight into his commanding officer's worried mind. "Okay."
"You want us to head out now, Colonel?" asked Carter.
"No," Hogan said. "Let's give it a break. I told Schultz we'd be at him tomorrow, and I want you fellas to have plenty of light to work with. This is no time to use half-measures. We'll get you in there first thing in the morning."
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Kinch and Carter barged into the guard's quarters, buckets, mops and cloths banging and crashing, and got straight to work as they listened to Hogan smooth-talk Schultz outside. Kinch shook his head in amazement as he listened to the words drifting towards them. He didn't know how Hogan kept up this constant patter; it was certainly a gift that not all men had. A saying he had heard came back to Kinch: If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything. And the senior POW had to regularly come up with and support stories with no truth in them whatsoever; if he couldn't remember it all, there were lives, lots of them, at stake. Occasionally, but not often, Kinch had seen the pressure of this responsibility visibly wear on Hogan. The sign was in his eyes, when they suddenly lost their spark; when he seemed to be staring at nothing for a minute at a time; when he suddenly made a biting comment from left field, then wouldn't look at his men for shame of it, and made it up to them by making sure they got time off. But he wouldn't let on: the confidence of the men under his command was directly linked to his own, as was often the case in tight-knit groups, so he tried never to let them see his own cool demeanor falter. Not just any man could be a Papa Bear, Kinch pondered, digging through the closet loaded with heavy coats and long pants and assorted articles of clothing. Thank God for the one we've got.
"Hey, Kinch, look at this." Carter pushed some long underwear aside in a large drawer to reveal a brown-papered parcel tied with string.
Kinch stared at the package that he had never seen yesterday, not having been given access to what Schultz had told him was "too personal" a place to go. He nodded his agreement. "I think we've got it."
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"So what do we do with it?" Newkirk asked.
The men in Barracks Two were staring at the parcel Kinch and Carter brought back from the guards' station. The foot-by-foot, square, brown problem sat on the table in front of them, daring them to act. Hogan looked to his demolitions expert, the man he trusted above all in matters pertaining to explosives of any kind. "Carter?"
Carter screwed his face up, thinking. "Well it might be on a timer, but that's not likely," he said. "If it was, Klink might have time to get rid of it before it goes off."
"Okay," understood Hogan. "So it's pressure-sensitive. It's tied down in there and the first person to break that string goes shakes hands with Saint Peter."
"Uh-huh," confirmed Carter.
"So how do we get rid of it?" asked Kinch.
Hogan had one leg up on the bench, and now he leaned on it, rubbing his face as he considered. "I could try to diffuse it, Colonel," Carter offered.
"Not a chance, Andrew," Hogan said, not missing a beat. "We're not taking any chances. That thing is an unknown, and I'm not going to have you blowing yourself up over it."
"We could always give it back to Voelker when he shows up here," Newkirk said, cross that the man had left them in such a position. "It's his bloody gift anyway, isn't it?"
"We could," Hogan mused. "But I'd like to put it to better use than that."
"Why don't we use it to blow up that new railroad bridge we have been talking about hitting?" suggested Le Beau.
"Not a bad idea, Louis," nodded Hogan. "But it's not a timer-set or impact explosive." He turned to Carter. "Andrew, how would a bomb like this handle being couriered?"
Carter shrugged. "Gee, Colonel, I don't know," he said. "But if it's been made properly it can't be too sensitive or it would blow the minute someone looked at it cross-eyed. It made it this far, so it must be fairly sturdy. After all, Schultz didn't know what's in it, and he's no light touch."
Hogan looked around at his men. "What do you say we send a little gift to our friends at Gestapo Headquarters in Hammelburg?" Hogan smiled as he saw his men warm to the idea.
"That sounds like a great idea," Le Beau said over the din. "We can say it is from Berlin."
"Whatever we say, we can't connect it with Stalag 13 in any way," Hogan agreed. "Kinch, why don't we find out what delivery trucks we've got going out in the next day or two, and give our friends in Hammelburg a bang-up gift. In the meanwhile, we'll leave this little bundle at the far end of tunnel four. Make sure it stays sealed off to traffic, just in case. Newkirk, Le Beau, let's come up with a different gift for the Kommandant. But make sure it looks just like this one—on the outside, only. We'll sneak it back into the guards' quarters tonight."
"Yes, Colonel," the men agreed, and took off to do their jobs.
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"Colonel Hogan, I called you in here because I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to accept your men's kind plans to go into Hammelburg to meet that fraulein tonight."
"Oh, but Colonel--!" protested Hogan. Shortly after the meeting in the barracks, Hogan had been summoned to Klink's office. And after the activity of the last twenty-four hours, Hogan had nearly forgotten the set-up to the whole operation: getting Klink to think the men wanted to give him a birthday surprise.
"No, Hogan, no—" waving Hogan's protest away and going back around his desk.
"Oh, but Colonel, the men have really been looking forward to this!" Hogan said. "They said they really wanted to thank you for being such a compassionate—yet hard-working—Kommandant. And now you're going to throw it back in their faces!"
"I'm sorry, Colonel Hogan, that is the way it is in wartime." Klink sat down. "Sometimes men have to make sacrifices for the good of all. And with this inspection tour coming up I will have to be here in the camp at all times to make sure everything is in order for the Oberfuhrer's visit on Wednesday."
Hogan nodded resignedly. "Okay, Kommandant. But Mariel will be very disappointed."
"Mariel?" Klink said longingly.
"Yes, sir. A lovely young thing, just moved into the area. But don't worry, sir. She'll understand. She's a war widow, you know; she understands how these things happen." Hogan saluted in his usual carefree manner and headed back out the door. He had more pressing matters to attend to. And he could tell Mariel that she wouldn't have to pretend to enjoy the company of a pompous German officer this evening. Too bad he didn't have time to take Klink's place….