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 waited until Schultz closed the door to the barracks, then quickly peeled off the bathrobe he had borrowed from Newkirk, revealing the darkest clothes he could scrounge from the others. A nod to Le Beau, and the Corporal pulled a can of black shoe polish out from under his mattress, while Kinch tapped the side of the bunk to make his way down into the tunnel. Newkirk pulled off the blanket that had been covering him and jumped down from his bunk, fully dressed in dark clothing. He reached up, grabbed the flashlight from under his own mattress, and waved it to show Hogan that he was ready for action.
Schultz had lingered longer in the barracks than Hogan would have liked, so the Colonel felt a strong sense of urgency to take action while they waited for Kinch to emerge from below. Le Beau came and started painting his commander's face with some of the shoe polish, to make it harder to be spotted outside the camp. When he was done, Hogan took the can and started doing the same to Newkirk, so deep in his thoughts that the RAF officer had to pull Hogan's hand away before he rubbed off some of his skin.
Speaking was kept to a minimum, as the others in the barracks, already in agreement with the plans, tensely watched the preparation. One of the prisoners, Olsen, kept watch in case any Germans headed back their way. Le Beau busied himself sorting some of the clothing that they had gathered from the other barracks to share with the escapees, and then with getting together ingredients to make some warm, nourishing food for them as well. Hogan paced, occasionally looking down toward the tunnel, but never daring to actually go down there. Newkirk finally stopped the walking by putting a hand on Hogan's arm. Hogan merely looked at him, as though seeking reassurances, and as Newkirk offered them silently, Hogan nodded, then started crossing and uncrossing his arms, and eventually resumed pacing.
Le Beau was about to go and physically hold Hogan still when Kinch's head appeared from the tunnel. Hogan stopped dead in his tracks. "They've gone, Colonel. The Underground reports that four men broke out of Stalag 9 about thirty minutes ago. They're heading in our direction, but of course they won't know exactly where they're going, so we're going to have to get them."
"Right." He looked at Le Beau. "Louis, make sure we have enough food for four men, and clean clothing, too."
"Oui, Colonel."
"Kinch, do we have medical supplies?"
"A few things here and there, Colonel. And Wilson gave us the things you asked for when you—saw him this afternoon."
Hogan silently thanked Heaven again for the blessings of a cold compress. "Any one of these men might not be in good shape. See that we've got blankets, bandages, everything ready."
"Right, Colonel."
"Newkirk—" he turned to the Englishman beside him.
"Here, sir."
"Are you ready for a taste of the outside?"
Newkirk took a deep breath and looked at this officer, this man whom he somehow couldn't fathom, but whom he somehow had learned to trust. "More than ever, Colonel," he said.
"Okay. Let's bring them in."
Hogan led Newkirk to the bunk, then turned to those staying behind. "You know the plan. If we don't come back in the next two hours, you make sure you close up everything, and I mean everything. We can't let the Krauts get near this tunnel, and no one's going to do anything stupid like trying to come out and find us. Clear?" Reluctant agreement greeted his order. "Meanwhile it's lights out before you draw attention to yourselves. Just keep a single light burning. If the Krauts complain, tell them Olsen's afraid of the dark." The men laughed softly at Hogan's attempt at lightness. He turned to Newkirk. "Let's go."
"Back in a tick, mates," Newkirk said, trying to sound hopeful as he followed Hogan down into the tunnel. "I'll bring you back some grass from the free side of the fence."
"Bonne chance," Le Beau almost whispered. "Come back safe."
When Newkirk hopped off the bottom rung of the ladder, he was already several paces behind Hogan, who was moving steadily down toward the darkness. "Hang about, Colonel; you're going to need the light," Newkirk said, taking several quick steps and turning on the flashlight. "Never knew you were so light on your feet," he said.
"Sprinter in high school," Hogan quipped.
They moved silently down the passageway, their footsteps and their breathing the only sounds penetrating the overwhelming stillness. Hogan tried to scan the tunnel in the dim light. If we pull this off, the first thing we're going to have to do is get more light down here. This is just creepy. He started to walk hunched over after awhile, as the ceiling of the tunnel got lower. And if I'm gonna be using this exit all the time, we're going to have to accept that I'm taller than this—otherwise Wilson's going to have to become a chiropractor, too.
The fact that their breathing was becoming more labored told Hogan that they were much farther down the tunnel than he could measure in the darkness. And we'll need proper ventilation. "We'll be there soon," he whispered to Newkirk.
Newkirk aimed his flashlight's beams ahead of them. "We're there, gov'nor," he said, indicating a higher and more open area about twenty feet away. "There's the ladder. We're outside the camp."
Hogan stopped to gather his thoughts before continuing. Or was it to steel his nerves? "Where does this come out?" he asked, knowing he had asked this before.
"Under a pile of branches and rubbish about thirty yards outside the fence, sir. The searchlights can still see us there. We'll need to time our departure carefully."
"Right," Hogan said.
The two of them stood for a minute, unmoving, both contemplating the enormity of what they were about to do. With no weapons, and no way of knowing what was waiting for them on the other side, they were quite possibly going to head straight into trouble. Now was the time to back out. Now was the time to refuse to try and pull off this crazy stunt. Now was the time to tell London this operation just wasn't going to happen. Now, if ever, was the time to head back upstairs to the barracks. To the other men. To relative safety.
To hopelessness.
"You still game?" Hogan asked softly.
Newkirk nodded. "Wild horses couldn't stop me, gov'nor," he said.
"Then let's do it." Hogan fleetingly savored the ability to stand fully erect again as he approached the ladder. Then, with a final look back down the tunnel, he climbed up towards the surface. A couple of wide planks were supporting a large patch of earth that had been painstakingly dug up and then placed loosely back onto the ground. Hogan gently moved one, then tentatively lifted the edge of the turf and pushed it away. A rush of cold night air swept over him, and he breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the freshness. Only as the coolness dried the sweat on his face did Hogan realize how tense he had been all along. With an encouraging glance towards Newkirk, he pushed his head through the opening and into the darkness.
Quickly getting his bearings, Hogan ducked as the camp searchlight swept the area. When he was sure it was past, he pulled himself completely out of the tunnel and onto the ground, darting for cover behind a large, nearby tree stump. A few seconds passed and then Newkirk's head appeared from below. Hogan gestured for the Corporal to join him, and the pair of them stayed unmoving in that spot for a full minute, their flashlight switched off, their senses on full alert. Hogan then covered the tunnel exit with the planks and the turf, making it look as undisturbed as possible, and the two of them disappeared into the darkness of the trees.
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"Kinch, stop pacing, you are getting as bad as Colonel Hogan."
Le Beau turned his back on the radio man and resumed stirring the pot on the stove, unable to take any more of people whose nervous energy involved walking like they were in a box with a red hot floor.
"Sorry, Louis; I guess he's rubbed off on me. They've been gone over thirty minutes. How do you think it's going?"
"I am not thinking about it," Le Beau lied, as he continued stirring. "I am making this food for the prisoners, and that is all I am worried about."
"So why have you been stirring it for the last fifteen minutes? There must be a hole in the bottom of the pot by now."
Le Beau's spoon stopped moving. "Okay, okay, so I am worried about them, too," he admitted guiltily. He turned to Kinch. "But they will be okay, Kinch. The Colonel knows what he is doing—and he has Pierre with him. Together they will be fine."
"Listen to that thunder—we're going to have a doozy of a storm. Let's hope they get back before it hits. Better make sure we've got enough warm food for all of them, just in case. Olsen, help me get more blankets and dry clothes downstairs. It never hurts to be prepared."
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"No sign yet, Colonel. What do you think it means?" Newkirk dared to whisper. The two of them had been scanning the area for almost an hour, moving close to the Hammelburg road, then back into the woods, trying to get sight of the escapees. So far nothing, except an increasing wind and some thunder that told Hogan they were going to have a tough go of it if something didn't happen soon.
"Maybe they're going out of their way to make sure the Krauts can't figure out where they're headed," Hogan guessed. "Or maybe they're lost."
"Or re-captured," Newkirk conjectured.
Hogan sighed. "We can't rule that out. But let's give them a bit more time. They could have had some trouble with the Krauts. That's not unheard of. I'd hate to head back with these guys still out here somewhere, looking for us."
"What do we do, then?"
"Let's head up the Hammelburg road and see if we can find them. But quietly; the last thing we want is to meet up with a patrol."
"Right."
The two of them pushed through the woods, making note of landmarks they could easily find even in the darkness. Only twice did Newkirk dare to switch on their flashlight, when an area was so dark that they worried they might be injured by stumbling into a trench or a hole if they tried to travel without a full picture of their surroundings. Eventually they came to a clearing, where they could see the road but remain protected by the night. They crouched behind a large tree trunk and surveyed the vicinity.
"No one here, sir," Newkirk said. "Everything quiet."
"I wonder," Hogan mused, looking around. "No patrols… they wouldn't bother being quiet. Newkirk, give me the flashlight for a second."
Newkirk handed over the light and watched as Hogan let off a Morse code in beams to the darkness before them. They waited, tense. Nothing. Hogan tried again. This time they were met with a rustling sound from the bushes across the road. Hogan pulled himself and Newkirk further into the shadows and watched as three figures emerged hesitantly, and headed in their direction. Hogan put a finger to his lips, hoping Newkirk could see this silent order, and stood stock still as the trio came within a few feet of them.
The sound of trampled branches and a curse that sounded anything but German met their ears. Hogan nodded to Newkirk but kept their flashlight turned off. "They'll call us heroes in fifty year's time," Hogan heard someone whisper loudly.
"I'd rather that be ten years," Hogan answered, tapping Newkirk's arm. He turned on the flashlight and they headed toward the voices.
"You think we will be alive then?" another voice said.
Hogan smiled. "We'd better be; I made reservations at my favorite restaurant." Suddenly they were standing right next to the escapees. Hogan switched off the flashlight and handed it to Newkirk. "You're the guys from Stalag 9?" he asked.
"Sure are. You've got someplace for us to go?"
"Yep—Stalag 13."
"A prison camp? Are you nuts?" asked one of the faceless voices.
"Look, I don't make the rules; I just follow them. We've got it all worked out. You just have to sneak back into camp with us."
"Into a prison camp?" asked the first voice.
"Sure it's a bit unorthodox," Newkirk admitted. "But why not make life a little interesting, eh? This way," he said, aiming the light ahead of them for a moment.
"I thought there were supposed to be four of you," Hogan said.
"There were, but we had a bit of trouble. That's why we've taken so long getting here. Palmer got caught. Patrols have been hunting for us. But we had a good head start; I think we gave them the slip."
"Yeah, well, there's no guarantee. Let's get outta here before we find out you're wrong. Newkirk, kill that light."
"Yes, sir."
"Here comes the rain," Hogan observed, as he felt a large drop land on his cheek. "At least that will make it harder for the dogs to track you. Let's get a move on. I'd hate to ruin your good shirt, Newkirk."
"And after I spent all day washing and pressing it!"