No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.
Author's note: the escape method used in this chapter is modified from an actual incident by the brave men on Stalag Luft 1, who have shown us that people can overcome anything.
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"Disssssss-missed!" Colonel Klink turned on his heel after the day's final roll call and headed back to his office.
"Are you ready, Colonel?" asked Le Beau in a low voice as the men dispersed.
"I think so," Hogan answered, his eyes still making a steady scan of the compound.
Newkirk pulled in close and casually pulled out a cigarette. "Have you got the money?" he asked under his breath as he lit it.
Hogan nodded, thinking of the wad of German cash the prisoners had managed to smuggle into camp over time, and which they had given without hesitation to him.
"The boys are ready, Colonel," said Kinch, breaking from a crowd of men who had started loud rallying near the guards' tower. A game of football was forming, teams being chosen and boundaries set.
"Are they sure they want to go through with this?" Hogan asked again. The tightness in his chest forced him to concentrate on his breathing. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure it would break through his ribs any minute. Now that the moment had arrived he was nervous, not certain at all about this plan the men were betting on for his sake. There was surely a more than even chance that the whole thing would fail, that he would be shot, and that the men would be punished for trying to help him.
Kinch nodded. "They're sure."
Hogan swallowed his Adam's apple for the third time since roll call. "Okay."
"Good luck, Colonel," Newkirk said, extending his hand.
Hogan took it. "Thanks," he said, hoping to convey everything he felt with that one word, yet knowing words were inadequate in light of the risk so many were taking.
Le Beau put his hand on top of Newkirk's and Hogan's. "Bonne chance; we will pray for you." He squeezed the hands under his.
"Thanks for everything, Colonel." Kinch added his hand, its mass covering the others, joining them all momentarily. The feeling of unity ran like a lightning bolt through them—they had all become so close over the last few weeks. Splitting up now was like losing a member of the family.
Hogan looked from one man to the other. "I won't forget you fellas," he said hoarsely.
"C'mon, gov'nor; we've got to get moving or we'll run out of time," Newkirk finally said.
The men broke up and Le Beau headed toward the gaming area, calling loudly for a game of football, and why could those pushy Americans not relinquish the ball to a little Frenchman? Kinch shook his head, smiling, gave Hogan a pat on the arm in a final farewell, and ran off after him, "defending" Le Beau against the loud onslaught that met his comment. Hogan and Newkirk started walking toward the area near the guard's tower in silence. All eyes scanning for guards and anyone's undue attention, the pair paused when they got to within fifteen yards of the fence. Newkirk signaled to another prisoner who was strategically placed on the opposite side of the tower, and then turned to Hogan.
"You know what to do," he said. "When you get out, hide out in the woods till you're sure no one's looking. Then head along the Hammelburg road. We'll tell Schnitzer what's going on when he comes to change the dogs tonight, and he'll pick you up. Watch for his truck. He'll get you to other members of the Underground. They'll hide you, do up some papers for you, give you some clothes, and get you out. It'll work, gov'nor. I know it will." Hogan nodded. "Good luck, sir. It's been a privilege to serve with someone as stubborn as you."
"I was about to say the same," Hogan said.
Hogan and Newkirk shook hands, then Newkirk gave him a quick nod and headed out into the open area. "Hey, who's side are you on, anyway?" he shouted to a burly Corporal, who seemed to be hogging the ball.
The ruckus started, with at least a dozen men running and throwing and shouting. Hogan slowly made his way to the shadows, watching. He kept checking the guard tower; no one had noticed him. He stepped very carefully over the guard rail and into the warning area, then waited.
"Now! Throw it here! Now!" he heard someone yell.
That was the signal. Hogan's muscles tensed; for a moment he wondered if he would be able to move when the time came. He hugged the furthest tower pole, concealing himself as much as he could. Then the ball became visible, flying gracefully over the guard rail on the opposite side, landing only a couple of feet away from the barbed wire fence. He saw a man on the ground point to himself as though to make sure that he was the one being identified, then he very slowly strolled to the area out of bounds where the ball was waiting.
No one looked at Hogan; he knew it was time to go. And, pulling himself up and along the pole, he managed to use the support beams like a ladder until he got to the top. He looked around quickly, feeling like this short maneuver had taken far too long. But when he looked he could only see the Corporal tossing the ball back into the open area of the camp, and almost imperceptibly nodding in Hogan's direction. "Come on, you guys, you can do better than that! Let's beat those RAF pansies!" he yelled.
The shouting that ensued was yet another signal to the others, who started screaming and brawling almost immediately. Hogan knew he had no time to waste and, putting his parachuting training into practice, made the leap over the fence to the hard ground below. The landing jolted him, and for a moment he felt all his old injuries coming to life again, as well as a sudden excruciating stab to his right shoulder. But without the luxury of time to recover from the drop, he picked himself up and clumsily ran for the cover of the woods as fast as he could manage, while the voices of the shouting men faded from his ears.
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"Schnitzer'll be here soon," Newkirk remarked to no one in particular.
"Yep," answered Kinch.
"Wonder how the Colonel is."
"Well we didn't hear any shooting; that's always a good sign."
"Did you see him leave?"
"I didn't look. Didn't want to take a chance that someone would notice."
"Me neither. I hope he makes it."
Silence.
"Schnitzer will be here soon," Newkirk said again. "He'll look after the gov'nor."
"If he makes it that far."
"He will, Louis. If anyone will make it, he will."
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"Get away from this area, now—away, away!" Schultz ordered, a bit more enthusiastically than the prisoners were used to. He was waving them away from the dog pen with his rifle. "You are not to come near the dogs! Away! Schnell!"
"What is the problem, Schultzie?" asked Le Beau, annoyed. "You know we like to see the new killer animals when they are brought in; why can't we stay?" He resisted being pushed out of the way by Schultz's weapon.
"No one is allowed to be near Herr Schnitzer when he comes with the dogs tonight, or any other time! Now bewegen Sie sich!"
"Okay, okay," Le Beau responded, arms crossed and frown firmly in place. "But see what kind of goodies you get from now on," he said.
"But, Le Beau, it is not my fault," Schultz pleaded. "The Kommandant has ordered me to keep everyone away. He says Herr Schnitzer is getting too friendly with the prisoners. I am just a soldier, Le Beau, I am only following orders. Now please go back to the barracks like a good cockroach…please, Le Beau." Le Beau considered, his eyebrows still meeting in the middle of his forehead. "And maybe you can make some wiener schnitzel, bitte? When I come later for lights out, it might be ready?"
"And pigs might be flying over Germany," Le Beau retorted, and walked off in a huff.
"Ham is nice," Schultz pondered, as he watched Le Beau retreat. He snapped to attention as he saw Klink approach and the dog truck pull through the gate. "Herr Kommandant, the men have been sent back to the barracks as ordered, sir."
"Very good, Schultz."
Schnitzer got out of his truck and approached the two Germans. "What is this about, Herr Oberst?" Schnitzer asked, surprised, as Klink came to meet him.
"Herr Schnitzer, it has come to my attention that the dogs seem to be much less attentive recently. Have you been continuing their training?" Klink asked.
"Ja, of course, Herr Oberst," Schnitzer responded. "They receive proper training as the guard dogs they are."
"Herr Schnitzer, I regret to say that you are most likely going to be replaced as our dog handler. We have noticed a change in the animals' demeanor. And as you have no other dogs—"
"Are you doubting my loyalty as a German citizen, Herr Oberst Klink?" asked Schnitzer.
"Of course not, Herr Schnitzer. Perhaps you are just too friendly—these dogs need to be vicious. Our prisoners could try to escape at any time, and the dogs must be prepared to hunt them down. You have become too close to the prisoners, I fear. You must not see them as simple men, mein Herr. They are desperate. But there has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13, and there never will be if I can help it." Schnitzer's eyes took on a hurt look. "I do not wish you any difficulties, Herr Schnitzer. Until my final decision is made on whether to replace you, you will have no contact at all with the prisoners."
"Of course, Herr Oberst," Schnitzer replied.
Klink turned to Schultz. "Schultz, see that Herr Schnitzer has no trouble getting the animals changed. Then see that his truck gets out of camp undisturbed."
"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz responded, saluting.
Klink returned the salute and, scowling—he hated to make the elderly veterinarian's life more difficult, but he couldn't have his dogs practically licking the prisoners in front of General Burkhalter—he returned to his office, to prepare for tomorrow's visit by the Gestapo.