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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Newkirk, Le Beau, and Kinch stood uncomfortably in the common room of the barracks, shifting feet, looking from one thing to another, waiting. Tonight's radio contact with London had gone off as planned, and all seemed right with the world for a few moments, until Hogan's facial expression had changed to match the incredulous, slightly angry voice that practically shouted, "What?" back down the line. His outburst had surprised the others, who were waiting to glean more details from Hogan's responses, but all the Colonel said after that was, "You must be out of your mind!" and, more calmly after a very long silence, "I don't know; I'll have to think about it." Then he signed off curtly, again leaving Kinch to the planning of another contact, and, with only a cursory glance at his subordinates, quickly made tracks up the ladder to the barracks.

"What was that all about?" asked Newkirk.

"I don't know," Kinch answered. "But it doesn't seem like the Colonel to talk like that to his superiors. He was speaking to General Butler!"

"Well, whatever the fine General said obviously didn't go down too well."

So the trio ascended the ladder, and found Hogan pacing the barracks, rubbing his right shoulder. Le Beau made a mental note to make sure Wilson brought another compress for the Colonel once he found out what was going on. He knew Hogan wouldn't accept one now anyway, even if the pain was crushing him; the pacing was becoming a telling sign that the American officer's mind was working too fast to worry about anything else, including his own health.

"They must be crazy," Hogan finally muttered, still pacing. A few more steps, then: "How do they expect me to pull that off?"

Newkirk could have sworn the floor was wearing out where Hogan was walking. He had rarely seen the American so worked up, and was getting worried. What would make a man like Hogan say his superior officer was out of his mind?

Hogan suddenly stopped pacing and looked at the men as though seeing them for the first time. His hand dropped from his shoulder. "London's happy we have contact with them and the Underground," he said, almost formally. The others nodded. But they said nothing, which Hogan understood was a signal that they were waiting for an explanation. But how do I explain something I don't understand myself? "London's got a proposition for me. A command they want me to take for the remainder of the war," he started uncomfortably.

"Bloody nice of them, isn't it?" Newkirk said. "What a shame you happen to be in a prison camp." Le Beau muttered his agreement. Kinch just nodded and gave a slight chuckle.

"Yeah, well that's just it; they're perfectly happy for me to stay right here," Hogan said.

Le Beau suddenly understood. Hogan was upset because London seemed willing to accept that he would remain a prisoner of war. That there would be little the Allies could do, according to the rules of war, that would allow him to get out before the conflict was over. And that could be a long way away. "It is hard to accept, Colonel," he offered gently. "But the Allies will conquer soon, and we will all go home again."

"That's not it," Hogan said, shaking his head, though he appreciated Le Beau's attempt to comfort him. "They don't want me to try to get out. They want me to stay here for the duration—on purpose."

The others all started talking at once. Finally, Kinch's words got through. "What do they want you to do, Colonel?"

"They want—" He looked around at the empty barracks, still wondering if all the bugs that had been planted by the Germans had been found as they thought. But they swept the barracks every day, including just this morning, and nothing had been discovered. So, trusting the work the men had done, he resumed. "They want me to head an operation from here. Intelligence. Sabotage. Channeling escaped prisoners to the Underground for passage out of Germany." Hogan shook his head, frustrated. "From a POW camp!"

"It sounds like they want a bleedin' branch office!" Newkirk declared.

"It sounds like they want the impossible," Hogan corrected him. "There are too many random factors."

"They must think you can do it, or they would not ask, Colonel," Le Beau said cautiously.

"Of course that would mean that I couldn't escape from this hell hole either," Hogan added. He stopped, for a moment thinking of the escape he had managed to pull off. He had been free….

The others looked away, uncomfortable. It was every prisoner's dream—his right—to try and escape. When under Allied command, a flyer could get time between missions to let his guard down, or a furlough to release some of the stress. But in a prison camp, there was no letting down his guard, no stress release. It was being under the nose and control of the enemy twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. For a man who had already given up freedom once voluntarily, the idea of his imprisonment being reinforced for the rest of the war seemed like a cruelty.

Newkirk shook his head slowly. "It's an awful lot to ask, gov'nor," he said.

Hogan lowered his troubled eyes and absentmindedly started massaging his shoulder again. "Too many wild cards," he muttered, as though the men were no longer in the room. He started pacing again, deep in thought. "Too many unknowns."

Kinch stepped forward hesitantly. "Why don't you go to bed, Colonel? It will all seem clearer in the morning." He looked to the others for backup.

"Oui, Colonel. Things will look different tomorrow." Le Beau shrugged when Hogan did not respond.

Finally Hogan looked at the men again. "I can't see them looking any differently than they do now," he said simply. "They're crazy. It won't work." He grabbed a cup and shakily poured himself some old, bitter coffee. "I'll be in my quarters, pretending to sleep."

The others exchanged looks as Hogan retreated, and Le Beau left to find Wilson. If Allied High Command was going to forsake Hogan, Le Beau was determined that he himself would not. He could only hope Hogan would accept the help.

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Breathing easier after Wilson's welcome but unexpected visit, Hogan lay on his bunk and let his mind race. What if they could manage to keep the Germans off-balance? What if being stuck in this prison camp could really make a difference to the war effort—and help determine the outcome? How many people could they save if they were operating right in the middle of enemy territory?

You're nuts, Hogan chided himself as he felt his resistance to the idea faltering. What kind of idiot thinks he can outwit the Germans right under their noses? He sat up and took a swig of coffee but didn't taste it. Still, Klink might be easily led; he doesn't seem too keen on letting Berlin get everything they want from him. Hogan frowned thoughtfully. But that would mean we'd have to make sure he stays in place. Hogan snorted suddenly. Who's we, Hogan, huh? You'd have to have a team to make this work. And I can't see anyone insane enough to say they'd like to stay in a prison camp if they have a chance to get out. And you can't ask them to.

"Problem solved," he said aloud. "One man can't do it. Game over." And, somehow not quite satisfied, he took advantage of the numbness of his shoulder, lay down again, and closed his eyes.