No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Le Beau's facial muscles tightened, and his eyes started darting around the room as though looking for something to land on but finding nothing. He wanted to let loose a diatribe against the German forces, but somehow the day had already become overwhelming and he could only feel heavy inside. The Colonel would know what to do. Impossible as it seemed, he believed that Hogan would know, somehow, how to stop this from happening. But Hogan was in no condition to stop a single German soldier, much less a German division, from rolling boastfully through the little Frenchman's beloved Paris. The Nazis had cut down the commander to whom he felt more loyalty than he had to anyone before; and they had cut down his homeland. To do it again, just to humiliate the French, was more than Le Beau felt he could accept.

"They will not do it," he said, struggling to remain composed. He stood up, and declared, "Colonel Hogan will find a way to stop them. They will not do it." And he left his friends, and went inside Hogan's room.

The others remained silent in their own thoughts. No one had missed the tears in the man's eyes. Newkirk's mind drifted to his own homeland, which had been heavily bombed by the Germans with devastating results. Quietly, he said, "What does London think we can do about it, Kinch? Do they know what happened to the Colonel?"

"They know he had trouble but not what type," he replied. "I didn't enlighten them much further. When they asked for the Colonel I told them he was with Klink. The tanks heading to France are supposed to be part of a newly developed line of Panzers, a prototype of sorts, with some cutting edge technological advances. London wants us to find out what those advances are."

"And I suppose they think the Nazis would like to give us a guided tour, do they?" Newkirk said indignantly. His humor had left him when he'd discovered Colonel Hogan writhing in agony on the bunk earlier in the day. His slim hold on optimism had followed when he saw Le Beau's spirits crumble. All he had left was sarcasm, anger.

Carter spoke up, unwilling before now to speak in the middle of the raw emotion that had been filling the room. "How do we do that, Kinch?" he asked simply.

"The information the Colonel had was pretty complete," Kinch said, his eyes drifting toward the closed door. "The tanks are traveling near Stalag 13 in three days." He sighed. Being in charge of this was not his wish, and it added to his long list of reasons why he desperately wanted Hogan to recover soon. "Maybe if we can detain them, we could get a chance to find out what makes them so special."

"How do we detain them—hold a cocktail party?" asked Newkirk.

"The Colonel will think of something," Kinch said wistfully, hoping he didn't sound as disheartened as he was. "He always does."

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

"Vous penserez à quelque chose, Colonel. Vous devez penser à quelque chose. Vous toujours."

Hogan was considering lifting his heavy eyelids when he heard the muttering beside him. Still muddled by the sedative, he was unable to distinguish the voice or the language, and so contented himself to remain unmoving. Slowly, as his mind cleared, the speaker's identity became known. It was Le Beau, holding some sort of vigil, thought Hogan kindly, or making some sort of petition. His already tenuous grasp on French was lost under a blanket of dull pain right now, and he could not understand what the man was saying. "Ils ne doivent pas défiler mon patrie aimée plus loin. Vous devez trouver une manière de les arrêter."

"Find a way to stop…what?"  Hogan asked softly, opening his eyes against his wishes.

"Colonel," Le Beau jumped, startled. "I am sorry, Colonel. I did not intend to wake you." Le Beau stood up from the chair he had claimed beside Hogan's bedside.

"You didn't," Hogan said. His mind was racing up and down his body, taking stock of his condition. Still very tender and immeasurably sore, Hogan was nonetheless relieved to find that he was not feeling as much discomfort as he had earlier. He was, however, alert enough to realize that it was the sedative that was responsible for blocking the pain from his mind, and that it would soon wear off now that he was awake. So he wanted to take the opportunity he had now to get appraised of the situation. "What's going on, Louis?"

Le Beau turned away, as though to hide embarrassment at being caught out. How could he bring this to the Colonel now, when he was so helpless himself? "It is nothing, Colonel," he said, heading toward the door. "I was just worried about you."

Easy though it would have been easier to accept the answer and drift back to sleep, Hogan knew Le Beau was lying. And a distressed Le Beau was something Hogan always despaired at seeing. "Le Beau—" The Frenchman stopped midstep on his way out of the room. "What's happening? Is everyone all right? Is someone hurt?"

Le Beau turned back to Hogan, eyes fixed on the floor. "No one is hurt, Colonel."

"So what are you worrying about?"

"The Germans…" he started reluctantly. "They are planning to go back through Paris."

Hogan looked at Le Beau carefully. This little man was amongst the proudest he had ever known. A man who loved his country more than he loved a good and loyal woman. A man who had nearly abandoned Hogan's whole operation when De Gaulle had called his countrymen home, when he could make so much more of a concrete difference to the war effort right here at Stalag 13. This kind of news would be devastating to the Corporal, Hogan knew. He struggled to a sitting position over Le Beau's sudden protests, and, trying to clear the fog from his mind, attempted to draw him out.

"Did Kinch get this from London?" he asked.

"Yes. It was in the coded information that you handed over."

Hogan stopped, feeling shame wash over him again. That Tiger handed over. "An offensive strike?" he asked quietly.

"No; a show of superiority." Then Hogan watched the anger take over Le Beau's face and creep into his voice. "They want to humiliate my people just to show the rest of the world how wonderful they are. They think the French people are just dogs to be kicked, not people to be respected," he spat.

Hogan sympathized. How hard it must be for him to be so close to this, and unable to do anything about it. Hogan could think of no words that were adequate. Nothing could combat the humiliation Le Beau would be feeling. Awkwardly, he offered, "It's all for show, Louis. The French people know they are better than the Nazis."

Le Beau turned to Hogan and burst, "We have to stop them, Colonel!"

Hogan suddenly understood the murmurings he had awakened to. Le Beau was asking him to find a way to avert this. Had he been in top shape, he would have considered it a difficult challenge; right now, he thought it near impossible. Closing his eyes to the returning pain, he said, "That's a pretty big order."

"Oui," Le Beau admitted. He made a fist and punched his other hand with it. "Give me ten minutes with one of those filthy Krauts on Thursday and—"

"Thursday?" Hogan asked. Why did that day stand out? He tried to think, but could not put his finger on it. He brought his hand up to his injured left torso; the nerves were starting to scream, and a splitting headache was hammering the front of his skull. He tried hard to ignore them.

"Oui, Colonel. London says they are passing near the camp in three days. I would like to have just one chance to—"

"Louis," Hogan said, a small light glimmering in his eyes, "you may have your chance yet." He had just remembered his conversation with Klink. How long ago had that been? Days? Weeks? Or just a few hours ago? "Fill me in. We might at least be able to put them off for awhile." Le Beau turned to him with a new hope and gratitude in his eyes. "But first… I think I'm going to need to see Wilson."

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Carter pointed to the approaching plane from the cover of the brush. He and Le Beau watched as a small parcel was ejected from the aircraft, and a parachute unfurled itself, slowing the parcel's speedy descent to a casual float. Under cover of the night, and with the polish on their faces and dark clothing that was the uniform of their trade, the pair followed the path the bundle made, then started to disentangle it from its parachute. Rustling behind them made them turn quickly. Le Beau hugged the package to himself as Carter lithely drew his gun.

"What do you have there?" came the faceless voice.

"Come out where we can see you," Carter said boldly. The voice was not overly harsh. Carter wondered if they were simply encountering a desperate civilian. "We have no food."

"I do not want food," the voice said huskily, the English heavily accented.

"Come out," Carter said, with more menace in his voice. "You're surrounded here."

A slight figure came out from behind a nearby tree. Carter tensed and held his weapon firmly. Le Beau reached for his weapon with one free hand, keeping their precious cargo close to his body. "I would expect not," said the voice. But the small pistol in the hands of the darkened figure was lowered anyway. "Colonel Hogan's men do not operate that way." The figure was now exposed by the moonlight.

"Tiger?" questioned Le Beau, incredulous. "Qu'est-ce c'est--?"

"We are in desperate need of supplies. Most nights we are now scouring the countryside for what we require. I saw the parachute and decided to take a chance," she said. "I did not know it would be you who would be here trying to retrieve it."

"It is medicine. Morphine for the Colonel," Le Beau replied.

"Colonel Hogan?" Tiger answered, worried. "He is in much pain?"

"Oui," Le Beau replied. "We had no medicine at the camp. We must get this to him now."

"C'mon," Carter urged, suddenly finding himself as the sensible one. "Let's get outta here. We can have our reunion later. We've gotta get back."

He and Le Beau raced stealthily back to the tunnel entrance, with Tiger close behind. Leaving Le Beau to help her down to the tunnel floor, Carter sprinted ahead with the package. He was met at the top of the entry into the barracks by Newkirk, who reached out for the bundle before Carter was even fully back in the room. "C'mon, mate, give; we need it right away," he said anxiously. Turning without further explanation, Newkirk disappeared into Hogan's room and closed the door.

Surprised, Carter hauled himself back into the barracks, and turned to help Tiger in behind him, with Le Beau bringing up the rear. "What's going on?" he asked Kinch, whose eyes were widening at the sight of Tiger.

"The Colonel really needs that medication. Good job," was all he said.

Tiger brushed herself off a bit and approached Kinchloe shyly. "Bon soir," she said. "It has been many months since I have seen you, Sergeant."

Kinch nodded. "Yes, ma'am. A long time." He looked questioningly at Carter and Le Beau.

"You'll never guess who we ran into out there," Le Beau started lightly, then turned serious. "How is the Colonel?"

"He'll be a lot better in a minute," Kinch admitted. "Wilson couldn't give him another sedative with the pickup time so close. It's been pretty rough the last half hour or so."

Tiger's eyes expressed concern. "Colonel Hogan was very badly wounded when we found him. We did our best to help him, but I was afraid we did not do enough—"

"You did fine," Kinch assured her. "He got back in one piece. His wound site was clean and the bullet was gone." Kinch shuddered to think how that had been accomplished, with no exit wound apparent, and tried to block out the image of someone removing a bullet from Hogan's chest with no proper surgical equipment. "It was lucky you were there."

"As I have told the others, we are getting desperate for supplies; we have been out most nights looking for things we can use. We cannot depend solely on you for our support; it was purely par hasard... remercient Dieu... that we discovered Colonel Hogan last night."

"Speaking of which, what happened to the contact? Why didn't he warn the Colonel?" asked Carter.

"The agreement has always been to leave if your contact does not show up. Colonel Hogan was over twenty minutes late; he could not take a chance. Later, when we thought it was safe, we decided to head out for supplies and it was then that we found the Colonel."

The door to Hogan's room opened, and Newkirk and Wilson appeared. Wilson wiped his brow with his sleeve, and reached for the coffee on the stove. Newkirk, slightly ashen-faced, came and sat at the table, then did a double-take when he saw the visitor. "Bloody 'ell—sorry, ma'am—but, where did you come from?"

Tiger smiled gently. "From down there," she said, pointing to the bunk where she and the others had emerged. "I hope you do not mind."

"Mind?" Newkirk echoed. "Since when do I mind a pretty face?" Wilson handed Newkirk a cup and poured some coffee into it. "Thanks." Newkirk gestured to Tiger. "Sergeant Joseph Wilson, Tiger," he said as way of introduction. "Wilson's the camp medicine man," Newkirk said. Turning to Wilson, he said, "Tiger was apparently involved in rescuing the gov'nor last night."

Wilson nodded acknowledgment. "We're grateful. You did a good job on his wound."

"How is he?" asked Tiger.

"He's pretty banged up, in a lot of pain since the shock's worn off. But he'll sleep now," Wilson said. "That morphine is a blessing. Thanks, fellas."

"D'accord. Anything for the Colonel," said Le Beau. He turned to Tiger. "There is bad news from London about the information the Colonel was carrying."

Tiger looked at Le Beau questioningly. "What is it? Did something happen? It was so hard to get him to let it go—"

"It all got through," Le Beau replied. He led Tiger to the table, and they sat down. "The Nazis are planning to march through Paris again, ma chere." Tiger's façade of strength seemed to crumble. At once frightened and angry, she looked at the faces of the men in the room in the hopes that someone would deny Le Beau's claims. No one did. "They want to use the French to get to the Allies. To show them how strong they are." Tiger could think of nothing to say. She simply grasped Le Beau's hands. "But the Colonel thinks there may be a way to stop them," Le Beau said, with hope in his voice. "We have to believe in him."

Papa Bear, Tiger thought. Always with the schemes. What can you do that will help my people now?