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"Does everyone understand what they're doing?" Hogan asked. The Voelkers were waiting in the "sitting room" that had been constructed for them under the barracks, clutching all their worldly possessions, and each other. Hogan studied each of them, trying to gauge their readiness for this move. God help me if I ever have to do what they are doing, he thought. And he was filled with a new respect for them all, even Voelker. Frightened, Voelker had bravely done what he thought was necessary. And seeing the family huddled here together, even in their uncertainty, Hogan hoped he would have been able to do the same if he had needed to.

"Yes, Colonel."

"Fine. The truck will be arriving in about fifteen minutes. We'll move down to the exit soon." He looked at Erich, who was sitting with his mother. "We'll have to… put the blindfold back on," he said hesitantly, hating the necessity but knowing it could mean the difference between life and death.

"We understand, Colonel," said Mrs. Voelker. "Erich knows we are playing a special game. He has to guess what type of road we are on, whether we are in the city, or in the countryside, what kind of cars we are passing…."

Hogan admired the way she handled the situation. Mothers know best, he thought, and his mind flashed to his own family home, then just as quickly came back to the present. Some day… "We'll move you out when the truck gets to the main gates." Hogan made to move back down the tunnel, and found himself being followed yet again. He turned on his heel quickly and found Voelker there. "What is it?" asked Hogan.

"You have done as you said you would, Colonel Hogan, and I will do as I have promised," Voelker said, coming to him. "I will tell you about the bomb."

"Don't bother," Hogan said, bitingly. "We already found it."

"What?" Voelker replied, stunned.

"My men found it on Sunday. We're sending it to Gestapo Headquarters tomorrow. It will give a convenient explanation for the disappearance of Captain Strohm."

Voelker was silent for a moment. "If you already had it…"

"Then we didn't have to do all of this; that's right," Hogan filled in for him.

"Then why did you?" asked Voelker, dumbfounded.

"Because we promised we would. Because I told you we would have helped you if you had only asked. Because we're the good guys," Hogan nearly shouted. He paused. Now that he had seen Voelker's family he had a different perspective. But he was still angry, so angry. More calmly, he continued, "You put my operation, and the lives of my men—not to mention the lives of innumerable Underground agents—at risk with your stupid plan. If we hadn't found that bomb, it could have been delivered at any time, to anyone. We could have been shot as spies, our network could have completely crumbled, and your fellow countrymen would have been struggling to merely survive while you and yours were cozying up to some nice Yorkshire pudding by a fireplace across the Channel."

 Hogan couldn't hide the fury that was creeping into his voice. His eyes were alight, darting back and forth while he struggled to keep from screaming at the man. All the pressure he had been feeling during this ordeal had come to a head, and the cause of it was standing before him, even now doubting his men's earnestness. "Your little fiasco was selfish, Voelker. Selfish and badly thought-out. You didn't consider for one minute the consequences of your actions on countless others. You thought the end justified the means. And it doesn't." Hogan drew in a breath. Calm, Robert. Calm down. "But we're better than that. You see deep down, I understand why you did what you did. You've got a family, a great family, and they mean the world to you, more than this crummy war, more than anyone in it. You couldn't see past them to the big picture. And I accept that; I might have even done the same in your place. But someday you'll have time to think about all of this, when it's not so close to home. And I was determined to make sure you know you were fighting on the right side."

Voelker didn't say anything. He merely stood, his face showing the impact of Hogan's words. The Colonel was right. In his anger the American could have rightly brought a halt to this operation; he was not under pressure to help, now that the bomb had been discovered. "Colonel Hogan," Voelker nearly whispered, humbled by his own self-interest. He tried to look Hogan in the eye, but found he could not. "I was doing only what I thought I had to. I trusted no one." Hogan remained silent. "I will protect my family, Colonel Hogan," Voelker suddenly said proudly. Then, more quietly, "We owe you our lives, much more than I could ever repay."

"We're the guys in the white hats. The men of honor," Hogan said, almost without emotion. "You don't owe us anything." He thought about Voelker's wife and children waiting at the tunnel exit. "Make sure your family knows the truth about us," he said. "That they know we've been trying to help save lives." He straightened his jacket and, clearing his throat, added, "That's all the thanks we need."

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Hogan continued to toss and turn that night, tired but troubled by this operation not quite completed. He had had Kinch wait by the radio in the hopes of hearing from the Underground, but that had not happened. Finally, feeling guilty about having the radioman sit wearily near the equipment, he had sent Kinch off to bed and took his place. But even he, after another hour of waiting for a call that wasn't coming, had abandoned the hope of contact and had headed to his quarters.

Early the next morning, having been unable to sleep, Hogan himself met the Underground courier to hand over the parcel bomb. And later, still restless, Hogan's mind was on the final words he had exchanged with Voelker's wife. She had taken him aside, away from her family, gripping his forearms to look him in the eye. "Thank you for your kindness, Colonel Hogan. We shall remember you always."

There was a catch in her voice, and Hogan looked down at her, touched by her emotion. Sincerely, he said, "I'm glad we could help."

"You do not show your true self often, do you Colonel Hogan?" she asked softly.

In spite of himself Hogan noticed how soft her skin appeared. Though the war and its worry had aged her, close up he could see that Mrs. Voelker was still a woman in her prime, and beautiful when given the right circumstances. "I have to stay detached in my position, or I can't do my job."

"But you don't," she persisted. "You took such a risk getting us here during daylight hours. You had every reason to refuse us after what Kurt did, both last week in Hammelburg, and here. Yet you did not. You cannot say that is detached, Colonel." She looked earnestly at him. "You are a soldier. But you are a man as well."

Hogan tried to avoid her searching eyes, but found that he could not. "Is it that important to you?" he asked quietly, moved.

She squeezed his arms gently, kindly. "Perhaps it is important to you." Their eyes remained locked, Hogan unable to respond.

At that moment Voelker came into sight. "Katrina," he called. "It is time."

The woman smiled gently at Hogan, released his arms, and went to meet her husband.

In his mind, Hogan was still watching her walk away when Newkirk called from the window. "Schultz is on the way, Colonel." She was still looking at him. "Colonel," repeated Newkirk.

Hogan was jolted back to the present, nearly spilling his coffee. "Right," he said, collecting himself. "Okay."  He stood up, tucking his shirt into his trousers. A glance from Kinch told him there was still no word from the London about the fate of the Voelkers. All they knew at this stage was that they had safely gotten out of Stalag 13.

"Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant wants to see you in his office," said Schultz as he entered the room.

Hogan nodded. "What's it all about, Schultz?"

"I do not know, Colonel Hogan. And I prefer it that way."

Hogan shrugged his shoulders, grabbed his jacket and cap, and followed the guard to Klink's office.

"Colonel Hogan, I thought you would like to hear about our friend Captain Strohm," Klink said, as the senior POW came into the room.

"He's not my friend," Hogan retorted. "I prefer to think of him as a casual enemy acquaintance."

"You may be interested to hear that the Captain did not return to Gestapo Headquarters last night after he left here." Klink sat down, opened his humidor, and pulled out a cigar. Hogan reached out to take one for himself, and promptly drew his hand back as Klink snapped the lid shut and locked it. Don't you worry, Kommandant; there's more than one way to skin a humidor.

"Is that so? Maybe they didn't get their map from the auto club."

"The Gestapo is investigating; they think he may have been a spy," Klink revealed, awed. "Imagine; a man like that," he said, shaking his head.

"Oh, I don't think he was a spy, sir," Hogan said dismissively, innocently, eyeing the humidor.

"No? Why not, Hogan?" Klink asked with interest.

"Well for one thing," Hogan started, "a real spy wouldn't draw so much attention to himself the way Strohm did in Hammelburg."

"I'm not sure I see where you're heading," Klink said, getting up to pace. Hogan reached over and took the lighter off Klink's desk.

"You'd have thought a real spy would have been more discreet than to pick up an Allied POW in the middle of Hammelburg."

"Mmm," considered Klink, as Hogan held up the lighter to Klink's cigar with his right hand, while working the humidor's lock with his left.

"And to make disparaging remarks about the Iron Eagle in public," continued Hogan, successfully breaking through, as he had done many times before. Never taking his eyes off Klink, he took a handful of stogeys and shoved them into his jacket, and put one in his mouth. "Well that was beyond a joke, sir, and bound to attract unwanted attention." He handed Klink the lighter as he closed the humidor again and held out his cigar for Klink to help light up.

"Yes, that's very true, Hogan," Klink said, preoccupied with Hogan's proposal, and unwittingly doing as Hogan wanted.

"And to then be forced to come into a prison camp to apologise? No," Hogan said, inhaling contentedly and replacing the lighter, "a real spy would have had to have been much more clever than that." Hogan sat down, propping his feet up on the desk.

Klink's face took on a familiar look of frustration when he realised the smoke billowing towards him was coming from Hogan. He was about to reprimand his senior prisoner when the telephone rang. "Colonel Klink speaking, Heil Hitler." Klink's face changed to take on a look of amazement. "Really?" he said. Hogan puffed on his cigar, listening carefully. "That is very interesting, Herr Major. Thank you for letting me know…. What's that?…. Oh yes. Heil, Hitler." Klink hung up the receiver and sat down. "Colonel Hogan, you will never believe it."

"What's that?" asked Hogan.

"That was Gestapo Headquarters in Hammelburg. Apparently a package was delivered there today addressed to Captain Strohm. His superiors decided to open it to find out who might be trying to contact a suspected spy… and the package exploded!"

"Hmm. Much damage?" Hogan asked.

"Two Gestapo officers killed, and one of the offices was destroyed. He must have had his own enemies," pondered Klink. "Either that or someone suspected him of espionage and wanted to stop him."

"Well, we can't all be perfect," Hogan said. He stood up, saluted Klink and turned to go, then seemed to think better of it and turned back. "Oh, sir—the men were disappointed that you couldn't meet with that fraulein. So they scrounged together and managed to get you this." He reached back into his pocket and thrust the pilfered cigars at Klink.

Klink took them from Hogan, pleasantly surprised. "Why, thank you, Colonel Hogan," he said.

"It was nothing, sir. Just a token," Hogan said, and slipped out. As the outer door closed behind him he could hear Klink's voice crying, "Hogannnn!"

Hogan beat a path back to Barracks Two, and very briefly explained what had transpired. "It all went fine," Hogan said distractedly. He rubbed his face, trying to fight the tiredness that had started to come over him on his walk back.

"News from London, Colonel," Kinch said, appearing from below

Hogan sat down at the table and looked at him. "What is it?"

"Voelker and his family are in London; they've been picked up and are being debriefed now." Hogan shot a look at Kinch, asking more. "They're all okay. And the kids are fine."

Hogan nodded. He rested his chin in his hand, leaning on the table. His exhaustion was becoming more overpowering. "Good." He closed his eyes.

"Go to bed, Colonel," suggested Le Beau.

"Yeah, London says they're giving us a few days' reprieve for this one, Colonel," Kinch added. He motioned to Newkirk to move in, and the two of them pulled Hogan up from the table by the arms.

"Hey, what's the beef?" Hogan protested.

"It's beddie-bye time for all good little Colonels," Newkirk said, as he and Kinch led Hogan to his room.

Hogan resisted only mildly. Carter plucked the crush cap from his head, and as they deposited him on his bunk, Newkirk and Kinch pulled the bomber jacket from Hogan's back. Hogan automatically turned toward the wall and curled up. By the time Le Beau had grabbed a blanket from the upper bunk to lay over their commanding officer, Hogan was completely asleep. The Frenchman looked at the others questioningly.

"This one's finished now; he'll let himself rest," Kinch concluded.

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The white light was again flashing in Hogan's face as he sat strapped in the chair. He could not see, but he did not need to. He knew what was coming.

"How do you defend yourself?" asked the voice.

Despite the underlying menace, Hogan was bold now, and had a ready answer. "Yes, people die. Yes, I am responsible for it. I'm a soldier and I follow orders. But I save lives, too. I am still a man as well."

The bright, probing light disappeared. And Hogan slept on in peace as he found himself suddenly surrounded by soft, comforting warmth, with no dreams at all.