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 was so certain that what his eyes fell on as he awakened was a dream, that he closed them again. It wasn't until he heard a persistent, beckoning voice calling him, and felt fingers rubbing the back of his hand in a smooth, gentle circle, that he realized he had not been still dreaming, but was, in fact, quite conscious.
"Colonel. Colonel Hogan." Opening his eyes reluctantly, Hogan lazily turned his head toward the voice that was caressing his senses with endless gentleness. Maybe it is dream, he thought. It's certainly not a nightmare.
A drowsy smile tried to cross his lips. "Tiger?" he whispered, reluctant to disturb the reverie.
A kind, compassionate face looked down on him. "We meet again," she said softly, her hand still stroking his in a comforting gesture.
"Am I still at Stalag 13?" he wondered, confused by the pain and the drugs.
"Oui, Colonel. You have been asleep for a long time." Hogan tried hard to remember but gave up when only flashes went through his mind. "The morphine," she prompted. "Corporal Le Beau and Sergeant Carter brought it back last night. I came with them."
Hogan nodded, still blessedly numb to much more than a dull, aching feeling in his upper chest and side. "Time?" he asked, finding his tongue heavy.
"It is early morning. Do you have pain?"
"Some. Not like it was before, though." Hogan wondered how he was going to make it to roll call, when he could barely keep his eyes open. Then, forcing himself to think more clearly, he said, "The Krauts are planning to go into Paris. I'm sorry."
"Corporal Le Beau seems to think the great Papa Bear can do something about this," Tiger responded. She smiled to show him she was not being unkind. "What kind of man can stop the advance of the German army?"
"My mother always said I was an ambitious boy," he answered.
Tiger smiled. "You must be mending; your impertinence is returning."
"It's what keeps me going."
Hogan and Tiger lapsed into silence, Tiger still absentmindedly running her hand along Hogan's arm. Hogan simply lay in a half-dazed state, thinking vaguely that Tiger should be out of the camp, trying to focus his thoughts but finding himself unable to in the face of the comfort of his companion. "Wake me for roll call," he finally mumbled, as he fell back to sleep.
Tiger murmured assent and left him to rest undisturbed.
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Colonel Klink paused in his frantic preparations for Thursday's events to consider what he had seen out in the compound this morning. Used to being greeted outside Barracks Two by an outspoken senior POW officer, he was amazed to see Hogan still out of sorts, and quite subdued by all accounts. Moreover, when the men were dismissed after the count, he was surprised to see Hogan's man Kinchloe head to Barracks Five and emerge with Sergeant Wilson, who accompanied him back to Hogan's quarters. For a moment Klink considered going himself to find out what was going on—after all, Wilson was the camp medic for the men. If someone was ill, it was his job as kommandant to make it his business. Not to mention that somewhere in his mind was a genuine concern for his charges, especially Colonel Hogan, whom he somehow felt an odd attachment to—almost like a friend. But how could these two men be friends, in such a world as it was at present?
He had wanted to share with Hogan the plans he had made for the special day—to gloat, almost, if he admitted it. Who else in the camp could he share this victory with? While Sergeant Hans Schultz was his closest ranking countryman, he was still merely the Sergeant of the Guards, and while loyal, Klink hardly considered this man his equal. He doubted Schultz could appreciate the feelings of pride that he had at this time, and he wanted to share them with someone whom he felt could almost read his mind. In this, Klink was sure Hogan was adept. The American always seemed to know which buttons to push, for the bad and for the good. And even though they were on opposite sides of the war, Klink always had a feeling that Hogan, somehow, was the one in control. And let's face it, Klink admitted only to himself, when Hogan is in control everything seems to turn out all right in the end.
Don't look for trouble, Klink finally decided. If Hogan really needed help, Klink believed his men would not hesitate to come to him to get it, German officer or not. Hogan's men would do anything for him, he realized wistfully. That kind of respect only follows an honorable man. So he continued with his planning, resolved to simply fill Hogan in later, to have him take his part in the festivities, as Klink wanted.
Klink's plans to review the ceremony over a glass of schnapps and a fresh cigar were thwarted when Helga announced a call from General Albert Burkhalter. Though he always did his best to please the portly officer, Klink always seemed a step behind, and "Yes, sir, 'Shut up and get my snow shoes,'" almost always seemed to be part of a conversation with the man. So now he sighed, putting aside his niggling concern for his senior POW, and picked up the phone.
"General Burkhalter, what a pleasant surprise, sir!" Klink sang into the receiver, a broad smile lighting his features. "Yes, General, I suppose I should have expected a call from you about the ceremony this week," he said after a pause, a bit of the shine disappearing. "Yes, sir, we are preparing Stalag 13 for the General's visit. Every man here is doing his very best, and I am personally overseeing the decorating of the camp…. Yes, sir, I'm sure it will manage to go over well anyway…." Klink's monocle nearly dropped off his face as his face sagged with humiliation. "Yes, General, we will be ready, sir—what's that?" he asked, a bit of interest returning. "Why, yes, sir, of course we can always make room for more…. Yes, we would be delighted to have General Werden and his men join us….Of course, General Burkhalter, all will be in readiness….Yes, General, the guest quarters will be spotless…. Yes, sir, Colonel Hogan has promised he will keep his men in line, sir," Klink said, nodding. Just as quickly he started shaking his head. "No, sir, I don't think that's always a good thing for the Luftwaffe either…. Yes, General…. Heil, Hitler." And he hung up.
Klink sighed. Well, for better or for worse, he would have to see Hogan now.
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"Klink's on the way!" Carter announced, bursting into the barracks from the compound.
Le Beau stood up from the table, drawing Tiger up with him. "You have to hide, ma plus chere." Tiger stood up, waiting for direction. "Down in the tunnel," he added, as Newkirk tapped the side of the bunk bed that released the catch. Newkirk handed her down underneath the barracks and then secured the bunk back in place, striking a casual pose in front of it. Kinch stole a quick glance toward Hogan's silent room, then grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. Carter sat on his bunk and grabbed a book, trying to look nonchalant. Newkirk reached over and silently turned the book over so the words were right side up.
The door opened seconds later, and Sergeant Schultz ambled in, toting his rifle, followed by Klink. "Achtung!" he ordered. No one moved.
Making his way to the center of the room, Klink issued an "At ease, gentlemen," before he even realized that no one had stood at attention. "Gentlemen, there is a very important work detail you need to be part of…." He drifted off as he noticed Hogan was not with his men. "Where is Colonel Hogan?" he asked.
Hogan's men exchanged urgent glances. Hogan had been in a deep but troubled sleep only moments before, still very weak from his injuries. During his last visit, Wilson had warned them that any slight exertion would exhaust the Colonel as he recovered from the shock and the loss of blood, so they were trying their best to keep Hogan out of the Germans' way, even as he protested that there was work to do. "He's—uh—" Kinch faltered.
"He's right here." Hogan's voice startled the men, who turned to see him emerging from his quarters. Fully dressed and eyes almost unnaturally bright, the Colonel approached the kommandant. "Can't a guy write a letter around here?" he asked.
Klink turned to face the senior POW, and was again taken aback by the less than robust demeanor of the American. Momentarily put off his mission, Klink scrutinized Hogan's abused face. "Colonel Hogan, I expected your men to be out in the compound by now. I need your men to…" He stopped as he noticed Hogan's attention seeming to drift. "Colonel Hogan, do I not have your interest?"
Hogan's eyes moved back to Klink. The truth was, his mind was simply unable to focus properly. "Of course, Kommandant. Just making sure my men aren't up to their old tricks," he said, with a glance toward Kinch. Better reinforce the charade; otherwise I'll have no excuse for being out of circulation. There's too much to do to be playing Maintenance Man. "They haven't really gotten over their fight yet, and I didn't want them bickering in front you, sir. It wouldn't be dignified."
Kinch nodded fleetingly toward Le Beau and Newkirk.
"That is admirable, Colonel Hogan. We need to keep this positive attitude in place for Thursday!" Klink reminded him. "However, I have come by to see you because—"
"I don't care what you say, you little frog, I'm tellin' you you're wrong!" Newkirk burst suddenly.
Klink turned to see the Englishman facing off against Le Beau.
"The English always think they are right… no one else could ever know anything!" Le Beau retorted. He turned away from Newkirk, crossing his arms, and letting out a loud, derisive snort.
"Colonel Hogan," Klink resumed, trying to ignore the ruckus, "I need your men to clean out the exercise area in the main part of the compound. We have, of course, our special visitors coming the day after tomorrow. And now I am told there will be even more of them, staying overnight at the camp—as well as a special demonstration of the German Army's—"
"Don't you turn your back on me, you arrogant sod," Newkirk continued.
"—new tank," Klink tried to finish. "We are going to need a larger viewing area, and—"
"I can turn my back whenever I please, especially if there is no one worth worrying about behind me," Le Beau retorted.
"Hey, fellas," Hogan admonished, furrowing his brow. He turned to Klink. "Anything you want, Kommandant. Just let me handle these men first, okay?" He tried to maneuver Klink out towards the door, anxious to start analyzing the new development. Schultz just watched with surprise, and some disappointment, that the two men who were considered close friends could suddenly be so cross with each other. Hogan turned his attention to Le Beau and Newkirk. "Now come on, fellas," he said, approaching them as though to facilitate peace, "hasn't this gone on long enough?"
Suddenly the two men were on each other. Carter jumped up to try and break them apart, and Kinch flew in as well. Klink merely turned to watch in amazement. Hogan reached in to try to pull the arguing pair apart. "You'd better go, sir. This might get ugly," he said, desperate to get Klink out of the way. "Knock it off," he commanded. Le Beau and Newkirk didn't seem to listen. "I said, knock it o—!"
Hogan cut off abruptly as in the melee someone struck the still fresh wound on his chest. All the blood drained from his face, and he froze, wide-eyed, trying desperately to focus on something, anything, to stop himself from screaming in pain. The fighting came to a sudden halt as the others realized what had happened, and Hogan slowly, stiffly turned to Klink, who was still standing by the door, watching. Figures he wouldn't get involved, Newkirk thought fleetingly.
"I'll have the men out soon, Kommandant," Hogan promised in a rough voice. He wondered if Klink could see the sweat of pain springing onto his brow.
"Very well, Hogan," Klink replied, confused by what he had just seen, but more worried about the impact it would have on Thursday's events. "See that you do. Sergeant Schultz will show you what needs to be done." He turned on his heel and left.
Schultz paused on his way out. "Please, do not fight," he said. "There is a war on. You need all the friends you can get."
As the door closed behind him, Kinch slipped his arms under Hogan's to catch the man he knew would not be standing for long. Hogan gasped and collapsed against the radioman, trying to pull himself together, his right hand shaking as he brought it up to wipe some of the sweat from his face. Kinch quickly settled Hogan down on Carter's bunk and looked apprehensively at the others.
"We're sorry, Colonel," Newkirk said. "We were just trying to—"
"I know; it's all right," Hogan whispered, not looking at anyone, trying hard to will away the nausea he was feeling. "Kinch—?" he started.
"I'll get the morphine, Colonel," Kinch answered. He moved past Carter, who was motionless with worry, and tapped on the bunk that led to the tunnel.
Hopping down through the hole, Kinch told Tiger it was safe to emerge, and she came back up into the barracks, catching her breath when she saw Hogan looking colorless and strained on the bunk. "What happened?" she asked, sitting beside him.
"Don't ask," Newkirk said. "Carter, go get Wilson," he added, as much to bring the young Sergeant back to reality as to help Hogan. Carter nodded and burst out of the building.
"Let's get him into his room," Newkirk suggested. Le Beau, still quiet, came up beside Hogan, and the two of them managed to maneuver the Colonel onto his bunk, Tiger following anxiously behind. Hogan's body trembled on the mattress as he concentrated on keeping his breathing calm, even though he was starting to panic about how he could plan to take advantage of the German tanks coming into the camp if he didn't get past this crippling pain in the next few hours.
Kinch, Carter, and Wilson came in all at once. "Had a bit of a knock, eh, Colonel?" Wilson asked grimly. Hogan tried to respond but could only look at the medic with pleading eyes. "Don't worry, Colonel, it'll be okay." He turned to Kinch, who had prepared the syringe, and accepted the medicine from him. "I'll just give you this morphine, Colonel," he said, injecting the officer, "then I'll have another look, okay?" Hogan still didn't answer. His eyes were closed, his breathing sharp and shallow. Wilson thanked Hogan's men and asked them to leave, but Tiger lingered and he did not push her to go.
"Boy, that wasn't good," Kinch remarked wearily as they made their way back to the table in the common room.
"And it's not getting better," Newkirk added. "With ol' Klink wanting us outside cleaning up. He'll expect the Colonel to be outside with us. And even if he was well, he'd want to be in here scheming."
"Klink said there's a new German tank being demonstrated here," Carter piped up. "Maybe it has to do with the information that the Colonel passed on to London the other night."
Le Beau looked at him. "Then it would mean these are the tanks to go through Paris," he said. Carter shrugged. "We will have to stop them. We will have to give the Colonel time to come up with a plan."
Kinch wondered if Hogan would be up to doing anything in the next twenty-four hours. Looking to the Colonel's quarters, he said, "Then we'll have to watch where our fists end up the next time we put on a little show for the Kommandant."