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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"Okay, I want to make sure someone's got a full view of Tiger at all times," Hogan was saying to his men the next morning. Standing outside Barracks Two and looking out across the compound, Hogan was aware of that sense of foreboding he had whenever he was surrounded by German brass. But he was grateful that he was facing the day with a few hours' solid rest, thanks to Newkirk's unsolicited trip to Wilson late last night. The medic's ministrations had given him enough relief to fall into a dreamless sleep until roll call, and this morning he had only a constant but dull ache where the night before had been a ceaseless and unbearable throb. "Le Beau, as our photography expert, you're going to be organizing Tiger, and that means you'll be with her most of the time. Make the most of it."
"Oui, Colonel."
"Newkirk, you'll be the fashion consultant. If Tiger needs a change of clothes or some fine-tuning, you'll be there to do it. We don't want any Krauts getting near that camera of Carter's."
"Right, sir."
"Carter, there's film in the camera?"
Carter grinned sheepishly. "There is now, sir."
Hogan shook his head, an amused smiled touching his lips. "Good. You're going to have to be close by, too, just in case something goes wrong with the camera."
"You want me near Tiger—when she's changing her clothes?" Carter gasped. "Gee, Colonel, I don't think a fella should be around when a lady is getting dressed—"
"Carter!" Hogan stopped him, pinching the bridge of his nose as he grimaced. He loved Carter, he couldn't deny it; the innocence of the man was endearing and touching. But this morning it was more than Hogan could take.
"Yes, Colonel?" Carter asked, hesitant.
"I'm not asking you to watch her get undressed. Just make sure the camera works. If she has to change, we'll make sure your back is turned, okay?"
Carter relaxed. "Thanks, Colonel," he said, relieved.
"Kinch, anything from London?"
"Nothing, Colonel. But the Underground reports more troop movements heading toward the French border, probably in anticipation of those tanks."
"Well, they're in for a disappointment. Make sure the telephone lines out of and into Klink's office are routed through our switchboard."
"Right, Colonel," Kinch said. "What for, sir?"
"Ah, Kinch," Hogan sighed, "do you want to be a Sergeant all your life? I have a feeling before today is over, you will have been given a pretty big promotion." The others raised their eyebrows. "By the German Army." Hogan nodded his head in the direction of the Kommandant's office as he saw Burkhalter and Klink emerge. "There's old Rosy Cheeks now," he said.
"Burkhalter looks a bit green around the gills this morning," Kinch observed.
"I'm surprised his gills didn't fall off after what he drank last night," Newkirk said.
"I'm surprised he's vertical," Hogan added.
Klink and Burkhalter made their way toward the tank still standing in the middle of the compound. Shortly after, Hochstetter and Oppenheimer came out of Klink's office and headed to Barracks Four. "Okay, let's go," Hogan ordered quietly.
Led by Hogan, who was taking long, confident strides, the group approached Klink and Burkhalter. "Good morning, Kommandant!" Hogan said cheerfully. "General."
"What's so good about it?" Burkhalter said, his surliness returned.
"Beautiful day for a photo shoot. What do you think, Le Beau?"
"Oui, Colonel, almost perfect. Of course the exposure may have to be left a bit longer when we are in the shadow of the tank." Hogan looked at Le Beau with a touch of surprise; what was he talking about? Le Beau shrugged, to tell Hogan that he didn't know either, but he thought it might sound knowledgeable.
"Well, there you go, Kommandant; you'll have to make sure you have a longer exposure. Of course, your Herr Oppenheimer will probably know that; too bad you won't be using the expertise of Le Beau here," Hogan started spinning his yarn.
"What expertise?" Klink asked, bewildered.
"Well, back in France, Louis was quite the fashion photographer—you know the French, sir, quite conscious of how a woman looks. And who better to know that then a French man? Of course, even if you could use Le Beau, I doubt he'd want to cooperate. I mean, after all, you're doing this to bring the French to their knees. Oh, it would be ironic, all right, but—"
"Perhaps you have an idea there, Hogan," Burkhalter put in.
"No. No, sir. I won't let you do it—it's against the Geneva Convention to ask a man to do something to the detriment of his own country. You can't have Le Beau; you can't."
"Hogan," Klink said, trying to sound smooth, "General Burkhalter thinks it would be helpful to have Le Beau coordinate the photographs." He smiled through clenched teeth. "There would be ample reward."
"Oh, really?" asked Le Beau. "Like what?"
"No, Louis," Hogan protested strongly. "They're asking you to turn your back on your countrymen. Don't listen to 'em."
"Like what?" Louis asked again.
"Le Beau, I order you to refuse to do this," Hogan snapped. He turned to Burkhalter and Klink. "Colonel, if you have Le Beau run this session, the propaganda will be so good the French will lose hope forever. Those poor people won't be able to resist the Nazis once Le Beau lends his talent to these photographs. It's unfair, and I won't let him do it."
"An extra piece of white bread for each man next week?" Klink proposed.
"Done," Le Beau agreed.
Hogan let out an exasperated grunt. "You've sold out, Le Beau. I hope you choke on your crust."
Hogan turned his back on the group and looked toward Barracks Four. Oppenheimer and Hochstetter were coming out, with Tiger close beside them. Hogan gave a slight nod to Newkirk, who parted from the others and started heading toward the approaching party.
"Oh, no, no, no," Newkirk lamented, shaking his head in disgust. "You can't have her looking like that. Who'd ever believe she's French?"
"Why, what's the matter with her?" Klink asked, still puzzled.
"Well, it's obvious, sir," Newkirk continued, brushing Oppenheimer away from Tiger and starting to pick at her hair. "Look at this hair; it's not fit for a model. Fit for a rat's nest, perhaps, but not much else."
Hogan exchanged glances with Kinch; they were bound to get in trouble for that remark later.
"It looks all right to me," Burkhalter protested.
"Oh, you're too kind, General; this girl is obviously just a peasant when it comes to fashion." Tiger moved her eyes to where Newkirk's fingers were toying with her locks, her expression becoming set but saying nothing. She allowed the Corporal to pull her away from the Germans. "Clearly, I'll have to take charge here," he declared, then looked at Le Beau. "All right with you, Louis?"
"Ah, oui, Pierre; anything that can turn her into someone worthy of being called a Frenchwoman is quite agreeable to me."
"Awright, awright, you two," Hogan complained. "You're not making the lady feel very confident. If you two want to go and do something nice for the Krauts, that's your business—we'll discuss it later—but don't insult the poor girl. Carter, Kinch, I'm ordering you to make sure these two don't get carried away. Keep close watch on their activities. I don't want them giving aid and comfort the enemy. And I sure as silk don't want them making her look any better than she has to."
"Actually, Colonel Hogan, I was hoping that one of the prisoners might be willing to pose with the lady," Oppenheimer spoke up.
Now that's making it just a little too easy, Hogan thought, pleased but cautious. "I don't know about that either," he said.
"Come now, Hogan," Burkhalter chided. "You were the one talking yesterday about accepting the inevitable. Why don't you be the one to take some pictures with her?"
"Not on your life," Hogan retorted. He lifted a chin over toward Tiger as she came up beside him with Newkirk and the Germans at her side. "You haven't even asked her what she wants. What makes you so sure she's going to smile for the birdie?"
"She is aware, Colonel Hogan, that after this little delay she will be coming back to Gestapo Headquarters with me for questioning," Hochstetter informed him. "She also knows that her cooperation would be duly noted when the time comes."
"What makes you so sure she's a spy?" Hogan asked, uneasy.
"Why else would a French woman be wandering around in the woods outside a prison camp, eh?" Hochstetter replied. He turned to look Tiger in the face, then carefully ran a finger down her jaw line. She turned her head away from him.
"Maybe she just liked the look of the barbed wire," Hogan said, clenching his fists to stop from throwing himself at the Major. "It's lovely at this time of year."
"Enough of this," Burkhalter interrupted. "Hogan, if you refuse to do it, you will have to order one of your men to do it."
"I can't order anyone to support this," Hogan said. "It'd be wrong and unfair."
Carter spoke up hesitantly. "Um—Colonel—if you don't mind, I'll do it, sir."
Hogan tried to look surprised and hurt. "You, Carter?"
"Well, gee, photography's always been my hobby. And—and it's been a long time since I've had a chance to stand next to a pretty girl, sir."
So long you've forgotten what you're supposed to do with them! Hogan thought benignly, remembering the young Sergeant's protests about being too close to Tiger earlier. Good for you, Carter—you know what this one's going to take. "Hardly seems like a reason to betray your country," Hogan grumbled.
Klink laughed gleefully. "It appears you are losing control of this situation, Colonel Hogan. Three of your men are quite happy to be involved in this project for Herr Oppenheimer." Klink set his eyes on Kinch. "Do I hear four?"
Hogan looked at Kinch, who shrugged. "Can't see myself in fashion or photography, Kommandant," he said. "Although I sure would like to work with a pretty woman myself."
"Maybe you can develop the pictures," Hogan said sarcastically.
"I'm afraid Herr Oppenheimer probably works alone on that, Sergeant Kinchloe," Klink responded. "But there might be something else you can do."
"What, like spit and polish the tank?" Hogan said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Where's Werden anyway?" he asked.
"General Werden will be joining us shortly," Burkhalter answered shortly. "He is still… freshening up after last night."
Hogan snorted. "You mean he's got a hangover and he doesn't want to face the daylight without making sure he has his proper military bearing."
"I'm sure the General means no such thing, Hogan," Klink berated him.
"I'm sure the General means exactly that such thing," Burkhalter said, with a smile that Hogan was sure had a touch of smugness to it. "That's the last time Werden will tell me that he can handle his liquor better than I can."
If that was handling it, Hogan thought, bemused, I'd hate to see him out of control. "Let's get this show on the road," he said aloud. "The sooner this is over with, the better I'll like it."
And that's the truth.