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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"The men want to have a dance in the Rec Hall tomorrow night, Kommandant," Hogan said to Klink later that day. "They're feeling the need to rumba."

"Rumba?" echoed Klink, bewildered. "Colonel Hogan, there are no women here to—rumba—with."

"Well I admit it's pretty hard, considering we don't even have any Xavier Cugat records… but we're willing to use our imaginations, sir. Do you happen to have a copy of 'I've Got a Gal in Kalamazoo'?"

"Hogan," Klink said through gritted teeth. "You are getting far too comfortable here. You should remember that you are a prisoner and still of great interest to Berlin. Your… rumbas… are of no concern to me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hogan asked, his stomach tightening.

"It means, Colonel Hogan, that the next time the Gestapo wants to speak with you, I won't be as generous as to give you forewarning. That backfired badly on me the last time. I will not be made a fool of again."

You will if I can help it, Hogan thought. "I understand, Kommandant. But all my men want now is to relieve their boredom. They want to dance, and it's good exercise. And we're supposed to have exercise periods. According to the Geneva Convention—"

Klink held up a hand to stop him. "Please, Colonel Hogan—all you do is quote the Geneva Convention to me."

"Well, Kommandant, it's my job to make sure the men are treated in a manner that respects their status as prisoners of war. And we're entitled to some entertainment as well as exercise."

"Very well, Hogan; you can have your dance tomorrow night. But it will end at twenty-two hundred hours, you understand? Everyone is to be back in the barracks by twenty-two hundred thirty, and your men will clean up the hall the next morning. There will be no chance for any escapes, Colonel Hogan. I am posting extra guards outside the gates and inside the camp. All prisoners will be escorted throughout the compound. Understood?"

"Certainly, Kommandant." Hogan smiled. "You're all heart, sir," he said, placing his crush cap back on his head and saluting. "I'll tell the men. Of course, you're invited, Kommandant. After all, some of these fellas are still just pups—they'll need a chaperone."

"Dismissed, Hogan," Klink waved him away.

"And a dance partner!" Hogan finished, as Klink insisted on his dismissal again. Good, Hogan thought as he left the office. Just the distraction we need to get the men from Stalag 9 out of here.

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"So that's the plan," Hogan said to his men, gathered around him in the common room. Killian, Troy, and Bailey had come up from the tunnel to hear the arrangements. "When we've got them distracted at the Rec Hall, we'll be getting you out through the tunnel."

"Do you think this will really work, Colonel?" asked Killian. "I mean it seems pretty far-fetched."

"Everything about this has been far-fetched," countered Troy. "Why can't this work?"

"That's the spirit," Newkirk commended him.

"If anyone is going to pull this off, it's going to be Colonel Hogan," Bailey declared.

Hogan smiled, grateful for Bailey's unwavering support. "Thanks, Bailey," he said. He turned to the other escapees. "You guys are right—this is an insane plan. But it's the only one we've got. Once that party's in full swing and we think it's safe, you'll be heading out. There'll be Underground agents waiting in a safe place near the tunnel exit with recognition codes. They'll get you out of the area and out of Germany, and you'll be in England within a day after that, if all goes to plan."

"But how are you going to distract the guards? They're expecting you all to be at the party," Killian persisted.

"Leave that to me. You just be ready to go. Don't forget to pack your toothbrush."

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Hogan did his best to keep warm while he hovered outside the Recreation Hall near the guards. A heavy, biting wind was blowing, and he was tempted to keep his head tucked down into his jacket. But if he did, he wouldn't be able to see what he needed to see for tonight's escape plan. The record player in the hall was blaring Die Goldene Sieben's "Weil der D-Zugfnhrer heute Hochzeit macht, much to the fright of Klink, who came over to remind Schultz that this piece of music was now banned as per order of Propaganda Minister Goebbel. "What's the chance of him coming to our little high school dance, Kommandant?" asked Hogan, stamping his feet against the cold, when the Kommandant came by for the second time.

"I don't know, and I don't want to know," Klink said. "That record should be burned!"

"I didn't want to destroy it, sir; we got it from your private collection." Klink looked around quickly, to make sure no one else had overheard that he was holding verboten materials. "Besides, if we had a copy of Chattanooga Choo Choo, or Green Eyes, we wouldn't have to play this stuff," Hogan insisted.

The record faded out. Hogan looked briefly inside the hall at the crowd of men. Newkirk nodded toward the American officer, then put on another record that caused Klink to look at Hogan in disbelief. "I'm in the Mood for Love?" he said, shaking his head.

"I admit it's a little unorthodox, sir, but we don't have anything else. And the men are desperate for entertainment, sir."

Schultz had started humming to himself, and was swaying back and forth in time with the music. "Schultz, shut up," Klink ordered. The guard stopped. "Why aren't you inside with your men, Colonel Hogan? It is nearly time to end this little gathering of yours."

"To be honest, Kommandant, I'm not much of a dance man myself. I just thought it would be something different for the men. You know, to distract them from the fact that the Allies aren't really doing very well." Hogan glanced inside again. It's now or never. Le Beau made his way close to the exit and nodded. "Perhaps you'd like to—"

"No, Hogan, I am not interested in joining in with the revelry of the prisoners," Klink interrupted. "Besides, I do a terrible two-step."

"Oh, well that's easy, sir." Hogan came across to take Klink's hands. "If you can do the waltz, you can dance almost anything! Now, first you move your right foot back—"

"Hogan!"

Hogan paused, but didn't let go. "Oh, sorry, sir—perhaps you'd rather dance with someone else. Schultz, how about you?"

Things started moving so fast, Klink didn't have a chance to protest. "Here, let me hold your rifle—there you go," he said, turning Schultz to face the Kommandant. "Then you have to put your arm around his waist—no, like this," Hogan persisted, maneuvering Schultz's arms and pulling the two Germans away from the door. "Whoops!—Better watch it there, it's a bit slippery, Schultz!" Hogan shot a fast look back to the door of the Rec Hall. Le Beau was gone. Daring a fleeting look into the compound, he saw Le Beau stealthily making his way back toward Barracks Two. As he was still a couple of buildings away, Hogan continued the instruction, until Klink finally got hold of himself long enough to break away from the Sergeant of the Guard and shake himself free of Hogan's determined teaching. "That's enough!" he blustered. Hogan, seeing Le Beau shut the door to Barracks Two behind him, gave up instantly. Klink snatched the rifle Hogan was holding and shoved it back into the guard's hands. "Schultz, take your rifle." Schultz gave Hogan a disappointed look. "Hogan, this is the last dance you will have for quite some time. Schultz, make sure that the prisoners are returned to their barracks immediately following this party, then call down the extra guards from the perimeter."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz replied, trying his best to look soldierly as the strains of You and I reached his ears.

"Hogan, you and your men will clean up this mess first thing after roll call in the morning," Klink said.

"Of course, Kommandant," Hogan said, then he turned toward Barracks Two.

"Where are you going, Colonel Hogan?" Klink asked.

Hogan turned back, drawing his jacket in closer. "We never did get any rumba music." He shrugged. "It just wasn't the same. Good night, Kommandant."

Klink looked at Schultz, bewildered by his senior POW officer, then returned Hogan's offered salute. "Good night, Hogan."

Using the kerosene lamp from the common room, Hogan quickly made his way down the tunnel to meet Bailey, Troy, Killian, and Le Beau. "You all ready?" he asked nodding in their direction.

"We thought you weren't going to make it in time, Colonel," Le Beau said, his face darkened with polish.

"I nearly didn't. Klink's right: he does a terrible two-step." He turned toward the men from Stalag 9. "Now, you know what's happening? We're gonna take you upstairs. About a hundred yards down the road there's a truck waiting with a couple of Underground agents inside. They'll get you to a safe house tonight, and then they'll get you out of Germany. You should be in London by this time tomorrow."

"Sure, Colonel," Bailey said.

"Thanks for everything, Colonel Hogan," Troy said. "And thanks to everyone. We don't know how to repay you."

"Just get home safely," Hogan answered. "Le Beau, have you got the recognition code?"

"Oui, Colonel."

"Okay—then up you go. And be careful."

Le Beau took the lead, heading up the ladder with the flashlight. He tried pushing aside the planks, but found they wouldn't budge. "Colonel—the boards are stuck—they must have frozen in the cold weather."

Killian gestured for Le Beau to come down. "Let me up there; I'll give it a push."

"Careful," Hogan warned. "If they move too fast and there's a Kraut nearby, the first thing you'll see is a rifle barrel pointed towards your face."

"I'll be gentle as a kitten, Colonel," Killian answered. The others watched tensely as Killian worked the planks. Eventually, grudgingly, one gave in, and Killian moved it back and forth. "There we go—all set," he said, looking down at the others.

"Okay, come down—we'll let Le Beau go out first."

Killian dropped to the floor of the tunnel. "Thanks, Colonel Hogan," he said, extending his hand.

Hogan took it. "You're welcome. Let's not see you again, okay?"

Killian grinned and turned to follow Le Beau, who was waiting to push the plank out.

"Colonel Hogan, it's been a pleasure, sir." Troy saluted the American officer, who smiled slightly and returned the salute.

"Pleasure's all ours." He looked up as Bailey came to stand before him. "Come on, Le Beau—get moving."

"Oui, Colonel."

Le Beau carefully and silently shifted the board out of the way, exposing only his head and surveying his surroundings. Eventually he climbed all the way out, and gestured for the others to follow.

"You'd better get a move on, too," Hogan said to Bailey, as he watched Troy disappear through the hole. He turned to his Baby Bear, his expression full of unspoken thoughts. But he said nothing.

Bailey looked intently at his former commander, as though debating what to do. Finally, he urged earnestly, "Come with us, Papa."

Hogan shook his head. "There's room for three—you, Killian, and Troy."

"I'm sure they could squeeze you in," Bailey insisted. "You don't belong here. You've done your part, more than your part. You deserve to come."

"I can't," Hogan said quietly.

"You're letting them break you," Bailey said. Hogan stood silently. "You're letting the bastards win." Hogan didn't meet his eyes. "Listen, I don't know everything, Papa, but we were told a bit about what happened to you after we lost Goldilocks. What happened at the Dulag."

Hogan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "That's not something you need to know about," he said.

"Sure it is—because they crushed you. They cowed you so you wouldn't fight back. You just sit and accept your fate now. That's not the Papa Bear I knew. The one I knew would be fighting like hell against the Germans and wouldn't give up till the Nazis were obliterated."

"I am fighting back," said Hogan, his eyes suddenly flashing. "Don't you think getting you out of here is fighting?" Bailey furrowed his brow questioningly. "You said it yourself—I belong someplace where guys can learn from me. Headquarters is asking me to make this that place. Sure, I could escape. I could fly a few missions, earn my points, and get the hell out of the service and back home. And I'd love it. But one day over Hamburg my whole outlook changed. Now I have nine other men on my conscience. And they're telling me I could make this war up close and personal—kick the Nazis where it hurts, and right under their noses. You, Troy, and Killian are just one example of the damage we can do."

Bailey was wounded. That Papa Bear might not fly again was a shock to him. And that he seemed to be considering this suicidal assignment was insane. Hogan noticed his look, and added softly, "Look, I know it sounds nuts. I don't know if I'm going to stay yet. But it's something I have to consider. And I can't consider it if I'm running around Germany in the middle of the night. Once I'm out of here, I'm not coming back." Bailey's features softened a bit in understanding.

Le Beau's head appeared from above. He took in the intensity of the two men and remained silent.

Neither man noticed him. "They haven't gotten the best of me, I promise," Hogan said in a quiet voice.

Bailey nodded. "Okay," he said, grief still toying with his voice. He looked at Hogan. "I'm glad what we heard while we were at the Dulag was wrong."

"So am I."

Bailey suddenly surged forward and grabbed Hogan in a bear hug. Surprised but overwhelmed, Hogan returned the embrace, swallowing hard to keep his own emotions in check. "Promise me you'll always be Papa Bear," Bailey managed.

Hogan released him. "I will," he whispered. "I promise you I will."

The pair stood regarding each other in silence. Le Beau cleared his throat and said gently, "Colonel, the Underground will be waiting."

Bailey straightened suddenly, stood at attention, and offered Hogan one of his finest, crispest salutes. Hogan pulled himself together and returned the mark of respect, then relaxed only slightly and said, "I'll get word to you. Now get going."

Bailey nodded and started up the ladder to Le Beau. Hogan turned and quickly disappeared back down the tunnel.