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Hogan shut the door to Barracks Two behind him and immediately stopped and closed his eyes. Gotta get past this, he said to himself, trying to control his breathing and, through it, his pain. We're not done yet. He opened his eyes and looked around. The four bunks he knew whether waking or sleeping were empty. Two of them because the men were still with the Germans; the other two because they were out on the job. He hoped.

Hogan walked to the stove and picked up the kettle. The stale aroma of hours-old brew met his senses, but he started pouring anyway. He stopped suddenly as his upper chest protested the usually easy work of holding a cup. He quickly put down the kettle, swapped the cup to his right hand and took a sip, grimacing at the bitterness. Restless, he headed for his quarters, where he opened the window and looked out over the compound. Where are they? he wondered. Worried and yet thankful that he could not see Kinch or Carter near the tank inside the camp, he shut the window, shivering, and turned away.

He glanced longingly at his bunk. "I wish," he said aloud to his mattress. His chest and ribs hurt like hell, and his eyes were sensitive to the light in his room, reminding him his head wasn't in top shape either. "Now we've got medicine and I haven't got time to take it," he muttered ironically. He put the cup on his desk as he sat down carefully. I'll just take a minute, he thought, his aching mind nonetheless resisting the idea of focusing on something other than the mission at hand. In the end, his sense of duty won, and he stood up, unable to stay still for long and yet at pains to stay on the move. Gotta make sure the guys are able to get to that Panzer.

Hogan headed back outside, the voices from Klink's quarters still mixing with music faintly in the background. Looking around carefully, Hogan made his way through the shadows toward the building closest to the tank. I don't even know if they're back in camp yet, he thought, straining to see ahead of him. Great moon for a bombing raid, he realized, glancing at the sky, but not very helpful for sabotage. Hogan froze as he sensed the slightest movement at the next building. Pressing himself up against the hut, he squinted to see if it was friend or foe nearby. He hadn't actually seen Schultz go back into the guards' quarters, and it wouldn't be the first time Hogan had found the Sergeant asleep—or drunk—outside at a most inauspicious hour of the night. Hogan could make out nothing. He wouldn't be able to miss Schultz, he thought, and there didn't seem to be any armed guards; it must have been his imagination.

Convinced his mind had played a trick on him, Hogan decided to move to the next building. Supporting his throbbing ribs, he flowed from one hut to the next, nearly jumping out of his skin as he sensed that movement again, this time right on top of him. A hand touched his shoulder and he spun around, only to see Kinch putting a finger to his lips and indicating that Carter was beside him. Hogan nodded, and in the dimness silently asked Kinch for details. Kinch gave a thumbs-up as he pointed to the fence, then shook his head as his finger aimed at the Panzer standing a few yards away. Carter was glancing back and forth between Hogan and the tank, and held up a set of explosives ready to use, for Hogan to see. Hogan nodded again, held up a finger to indicate the others should follow his lead, and, steeling himself, straightened and headed out into the moonlight.

"Anschlag!" came a voice almost instantly, accompanied by the sound of a rifle being prepared to fire. "Halt!"

Hogan immediately raised his arms in surrender. Uhnn, that was dumb, he thought, as pain raced from his chest through to his left fingertips. He tried to take a deep breath, but that was a mistake his ribs weren't very forgiving about, and he bit his lip hard to avoid groaning aloud. What the hell are you doing, Hogan? he thought, his head swimming. He lowered his arms but left them spread out away from his body. "I was just out for a stroll," he protested, looking around to see if he had the guards' undivided attention.

"Sie werden von hier verschwinden. Sofort."

Hogan didn't need that translated; the threat was in the weapon that shone in the moonlight.  Keeping his hands in full view, he edged slowly in the direction of Klink's quarters, making sure the two guards were turning with him, and therefore away from the building in whose shadows Kinch and Carter had hidden. His eyes darted back and forth until he spied the pair dashing over to the tank behind the guards, unseen and unheard. Then he started his patter.

"I was over at the party tonight, you know," he said, as beads of perspiration started appearing on his forehead. "It was just too exciting, and I had to clear my head before going to sleep. You know what happens when you have a bit too much to drink…." The sweat stung his eyes as it made its way down his face. "Hey, speaking of which," he said, not giving up, since he hadn't seen Kinch or Carter yet emerge, "why didn't you guys get any credit for any of this? I mean, we'd have at least given you a drink if it had been up to us," he said, stalling for time.

The guards remained silent, menacing, and slightly uncertain about the ramblings of this American prisoner who was speaking a language they only vaguely had any grasp of. Hogan was beginning to lose hope, along with his strength, when a loud cry from behind him interrupted.

"What is this man doing here?"

Swell, Hogan thought. If it isn't my best friend, Hochstetter.

"I thought you were going to bed, Colonel Hogan," Hochstetter greeted, standing beside the senior POW. The guards lowered their rifles; Hogan gratefully dropped his arms by his sides.

"Well, I was, but I got here and realized I couldn't sleep. Must be something about all that rich food. Oh, and the music. And the wine. Did you try the wine, Major?" Hogan asked hopefully.

"I never drink when there is work to be done," Hochstetter said impatiently. "Unlike that Herr Oppenheimer," he nearly spat. "You are awfully close to this tank, Colonel Hogan. Don't you know that is verboten, even for you?"

"Oh, of course, Major," Hogan said apologetically. "I was just distracted by the idea of Juliet." He tried to look love-struck. "She was beautiful."

"Of course you were distracted by a beautiful lady, Hogan," came another voice. "Any young man who is not blind would be dreaming about that beautiful fraulein."

Burkhalter. Here we go again, Hogan thought. He turned to see the General stumbling toward them, with Klink close at his heels.

Under the tank, Kinch and Carter froze momentarily. This was getting too crowded for comfort.

Hogan thought of the pair hidden under the enemy war machine and tried to move the Germans away from the area. "This is turning into a real party!" he said, trying to sound hearty. "I thought you'd have all still been enjoying the music! Why don't you all head back and—"

"Alas, Hogan," interrupted Burkhalter, coming forward to put his arm heavily around Hogan's shoulders. Hogan winced as the overpowering smell of alcohol wafted across to him, and the General's embrace antagonized his injuries. "With the lovely Juliet no longer in our midst, it was disappointing to stay in the company of these gentlemen," Burkhalter said. Then, suddenly quite deadpan, he added, "They would not look nearly as attractive in a dress, not even if I were completely drunk." Then he laughed at his outrageous observation.

Klink laughed with him. "That's very good, General!" he said with exaggerated cheerfulness.

"You're right; I don't think the Kommandant would have the knees for it," Hogan said through gritted teeth, peeling Burkhalter off of him and trying to catch his breath.

Kinch let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and continued working, once again conscious of his amazement at Hogan's ability to play any hand he was dealt with seeming offhanded ease.

Burkhalter cackled again. "You should be with the young lady, Hogan," he said. "You were too much of a gentleman when you left the party. You should have used the time you had alone with her!"

Hogan felt sick for about the fourth time that night. He hated the thought that any of these men were having ideas about Tiger. "Ah, well, the General certainly has a way with women I'm afraid I lack, sir," he tried to laugh.

"Hogan, you flatter me." Burkhalter nodded sagely. "But you have always been good at spinning a tall tale." He broke into a smile. "But this time, Hogan, I like the way you are thinking!" And he laughed again. Hogan and Klink joined in; Hochstetter scowled.

"Herr General, Colonel Hogan should not be here! And begging your pardon, sir, but I do not think it is wise to encourage him to be with the girl. She is obviously part of a French resistance force—" Hochstetter tried.

"Bah!" Burkhalter dismissed the Gestapo officer's protest. "Tonight, Hochstetter, she is simply a beautiful woman. And Hogan has wasted his chance."

"Afraid I've been out of circulation too long, sir," Hogan quipped, with overwhelming relief seeing Carter and Kinch flit back to the safety of the shadows. "Well, it's late, and Major Hochstetter's right, I really should be in bed, so…I'll just bid you gentlemen good night."

Hogan threw out a sloppy salute and headed back to the barracks, Burkhalter's offer of giving him lessons in wooing the fairer sex echoing nauseatingly in his ears.

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"Everything's in place, Colonel," Kinch reported. "The charges are wrapped around that new device underneath the tanks, and they're so small it will seem more like they melted than that they were tampered with."

"That's right," Carter enthused. "There'll be a small explosion, which'll immobilize the tanks at first—that'll release an acid that will eat through the unit and work its way into the mechanics of it. It'll seem like it's got some kind of leak, and that will disguise the damage from the explosives. And eventually, ka-BOOM!"

"A good night overall," Hogan praised his men. Newkirk and Le Beau had just been released from busboy and kitchen duty, and Kinch and Carter were safely back in the hut. The Colonel wanted only to head to bed and try to ignore the stinging pain he was feeling, but he knew a debriefing and pat on the back was a routine a close-knit group like this could hardly afford to pass over, even for one night. He picked up the kettle at the stove automatically, with no real intention of having a drink.

Hogan's lightheadedness was played out by his hands, which clumsily knocked the shallow pan the kettle sat in off the stove and onto the floor. The loud clatter made him flinch, and he bent down to pick it up. Realizing his hands were visibly shaking, Hogan stood up, leaving the pan on the floor. "You guys did a great job tonight," he said abruptly. "We're in great shape for tomorrow. But it's late; let's hit the sack. See you in the morning," he said. The men exchanged looks as they bade him good night uncertainly. "Newkirk?" Hogan called, and disappeared into his room, knowing the Corporal would follow.

Wordlessly, Kinch reached down to pick up the pan Hogan had dropped. Then, like the others, he fidgeted, deep in his own thoughts, until Newkirk came out of Hogan's room only a minute later.

"Carter," Newkirk said, as he headed for the bunk that hid the tunnel, "the Colonel wants you to get that camera to Tiger right away; she's expecting it," he said, activating the spring that triggered the lower bunk to rise up.

"You betcha, boy," Carter answered.

"I'm going to go get Wilson," Newkirk declared from the top of the ladder. "The Colonel's really hurting; I think he could use help settling down for the night."

Le Beau bobbed his head in agreement. "He was not well tonight in Klink's quarters."

"He was even less well when we were outside dealing with that Panzer," Kinch added.

"I-I'll be glad when this is over," Carter stammered. "I don't like the Colonel having to worry about us. And this time he's got Tiger to worry about, too. And you know how protective he is of her."

"There's a good reason for that," Kinch said. "She's saved all of us more than once."

"And he's not very happy about having to ask her to get involved in this, especially with Hochstetter prowling around already," Newkirk added, stepping down to the tunnel

"He'll pull it off," Kinch predicted, taking off his jacket and stretching his stiff muscles. "He always does."

"Oui. But he is still feeling guilty about what happened out there the other night," Louis said, "and that is playing on his confidence."

"You'd have never known it listening to him tonight," Kinch related. "The Colonel's always able to pull out a rabbit, even when there's no hat." Let's just hope we don't have to test that theory tomorrow.