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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"Thawing out a bit, gov'nor?" asked Newkirk.

Hogan sat silently next to Newkirk in the car, shivering as his body temperature struggled to come back up to normal. Blowing into his cupped hands with a shaky, hollow breath, Hogan nodded briefly then tucked his hands back under his arms, wrapping himself up as tightly as possible. A tingling sensation in his cheeks and on the tips of his ears and nose told him progress was being made, but he was in no mood to concentrate on anything right now except the prospect of something warm to drink and a blanket to wrap around him, even one of the thin, scratchy blankets they got back at Stalag 13.

"You st-still haven't told me how you d-did this," Hogan stammered.

"Long story," Newkirk said. "We're nearly there." He pointed up ahead. "You were almost all the way back when I caught up with you."

Hogan looked where Newkirk was pointing. There was the camp in the distance. "You're g-going to have to leave me here," he said. "I'll come in th-through the tunnel. They won't be expecting you to have a passenger, and I don't want you to d-disappoint them."

Newkirk nodded. "Right." He pulled over. "I'll just bring this baby back and then head home," he said.

"How confident are you about being able to get in as easily as you were apparently able to get out?" Newkirk paused a beat longer than Hogan liked, so the Colonel decided, "You'd b-better leave the car outside the fence—make it look like one of Klink's guards was a naughty boy. Come back down through the tunnel with me. I'd hate to see all your ingenuity wasted."

Newkirk grinned. "Pop's going to be cranky!"

"Oh," Hogan added, "and let's make sure it's a bit harder to start in the morning, eh?"

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"Give the Colonel some coffee; the man's an ice block," Newkirk declared as he followed Hogan up the ladder and into Barracks Two.

Hogan moved towards the stove in the middle of the room, as Le Beau came up behind him, tugging at the sash on his coat. "Here, Colonel," he said, "you need to let the warm air in."

Hogan didn't feel like being fussed over but let Le Beau go through his paces, relieved just to see he and Carter had made it back safely. He reached for a cup and felt its warmth seep into his still-cold hand, and shakingly let Kinch fill it. He brought it up to his mouth and sighed as the steam from the brew tickled his face. He turned to make sure Newkirk was also getting warmed up, and offered him a cup to be filled as well. "Nice to be home," he said simply. The others nodded. "Now what's been going on?"

"Schultz headed out to the Hauserhoff tonight, Colonel, so we wanted to warn you," Kinch said. "The only way we could think of doing it was to get there."

"He was there, all right," Hogan said, taking another swallow of the thawing liquid. "And he was coming to meet my contact."

"What—the 'hot tomato' was a member of the Underground?" Newkirk asked.

"'Hot tomato?'" Hogan echoed. "Sophia, the waitress—she was the contact." Hogan suddenly remembered what he was carrying and pulled the envelope out of his pocket. "We'll have to make sure we get a good look at this." He looked back at Newkirk. "Why didn't you just call the place? Standing orders are no one takes a risk like that for one man without my say-so."

"By the time we found out, a call would have been too late. I figured if you were on the run we could try to find you. Or if you were caught in the place, I could pretend I was a Kraut and arrest you myself," Newkirk said, suddenly deflated. "It was a bad plan," he admitted. "Schultz could have recognized me, too."

"Then we'd have both been shot," Hogan said, almost severely. Newkirk looked at the floor uncomfortably, unhappy but knowing Hogan was right. Hogan relaxed and put his hand on Newkirk's shoulder. The Corporal looked at him. "But it was loyal and damned brave of you to do it," he added quietly. "You probably saved my life tonight. Thanks."

Hogan held out his hand; Newkirk, whose expression had slowly changed as Hogan's thanks poured out, took it. "It was an honor, gov'nor," he said quietly.

Hogan turned away, breaking the awkwardness. "But if you ever do that kind of thing again without good reason, I'll have you court-martialled. Now get out of that awful outfit before someone mistakes you for a real Kraut and makes you stand watch tonight."

Newkirk grinned and relaxed, and started pulling off the German uniform. "What else happened tonight? Le Beau, Carter?"

"We got everything we need, Colonel," Le Beau began.

"We sure have, boy—uh, Colonel," Carter added. "We've got silica and blasting caps and special paper for wrapping. We've got plenty of stuff we can use for blowing up ammo dumps and bridges and—"

"Okay, Carter, okay," Hogan said, trying to slow the enthusiastic Sergeant down. He sat down at the table and held his coffee cup with two hands, still trying to take in the warmth of his surroundings. "Sounds good."

"There was more, mon Colonel," Le Beau said.

Hogan paused at the seriousness in the Frenchman's tone. "What is it?" he asked, frowning.

"The Germans are turning an old factory nearby into a munitions plant," Le Beau said. "The contact says that means they will be able to replenish supplies to the Bosche soldiers in double time."

Hogan shook his head in disgust. "It means more dead men. Not to mention the number of patrols around the area will go through the roof. Did he say exactly where the plant was?"

"No, Colonel."

"There's only one factory in the immediate area, Colonel—the old confectionary plant," Kinch put in. "I checked it out when Louis told me what the contact said."

Hogan pursed his lips and tapped his cup with his thumbs, deep in thought. Suddenly he looked up at his ammunitions expert. "Carter, have we got enough stuff to blow up two bridges, an ammo dump, and a munitions plant?"

Carter's eyes widened. "Gee, Colonel, the plant, too?" He scratched his head, thinking. "Well, I'm sure I have enough for the bridges. I mean that will take about… and then if I use the right mixture of silica for the stuff going for the ammo dump, and it's placed just the right way…I suppose if we take some of the nitro and silica, and we put it together with some of the gunpowder I've been syphoning out of Schultz's packet…and we get to the plant early enough to—"

"I take it that's a yes?" Hogan managed to get in.

Carter stopped, shifted feet, nodded his head with a lopsided grin still spread over his face. "Oh—yeah, sure, Colonel."

Hogan nodded approvingly. "Good. Kinch, radio London and pass on the details from Sophia. And when we talk to London about our sabotage targets, make sure they know we have to add one to the list, okay? Might as well make our debut a big one."

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"We've made it to the cooler, Colonel."

Hogan looked up from his desk at Kinch's words the next day. "Already?"

"We're still working on loosening one of the concrete blocks so we can get in. Some of the fellas have been working all night, Colonel. They were so close they didn't want to stop." Kinch grinned.

Hogan nodded. "Dirt all distributed?"

"No one will ever know."

Hogan smiled in approval. "Tell the fellas we'll have some kind of celebration soon." Hogan tried to picture the network of tunnels being built beneath their feet. A large part of him still wanted to use it to get out of Germany himself, to get away from the bad food, and the constant vigil of enemy soldiers with guns, and the lice. To go back to the 504th which he commanded. To get back in the sky. And to try and forget the events that had brought him to Stalag 13 in the first place.

But it was not to be. He had accepted this unorthodox assignment, and for better or for worse, now he had to follow through. At least he had some good men under his command; he knew if he had hand-picked them, he couldn't have asked for better. "Dog pen is next, I guess." Kinch nodded. "Tell the fellas to take a couple of days off, then talk to Olsen about the route they're going to need to take to get there."

"Right, Colonel."

"What did London have to say?"

"They're really happy with the information you got from Sophia last night, Colonel. And they're happy to add the munitions plant to the list of targets; they said if you hadn't, they would have."

"I thought they might." We might as well go down with a blaze of glory. "Anything else?"

"No, sir. No time frame. Just ASAP."

"I can't tell you what we used to say that stood for, Kinch." Hogan shook his head. In his wry little group, very few abbreviations from Command had kept their original meanings. Except, possibly, SNAFU. He smiled to himself.

Kinch grinned widely. "Don't worry, sir; I know."

Hogan's smile expanded, then disappeared as shouting from outside the barracks caught his attention. "Raus, raus, raus, raus!Roll call! Everyone, roll call!"

"That's Schultz!" Hogan mused, coming out of his office. Kinch followed. The others were already heading outside. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Special formation, Colonel," Le Beau said, as he pulled his long scarf around his neck and headed out.

Hogan grabbed his crush cap, zipped up his jacket, and headed outside, turning up his collar as the continuing wind swirled past his neck. Lining up outside the hut with his men, Hogan watched silently as Schultz counted the men, reporting to Kommandant Klink, who approached suddenly from his office, riding crop firmly planted under his arm, that all were present and accounted for.

"Very good, Schultz," Klink responded curtly. He stood for a moment and seemed to study the prisoners.

Cold and, moreover, concerned, Hogan decided to speak up. "What's the problem, Kommandant? Your guards need practice adding? We're all here. We were all here this morning. We'll all be here for late afternoon roll call. Why the special?"

"Despite what you may think, Colonel Hogan, as Kommandant of this camp I can call for a roll call any time I like," Klink said. "There's nothing in your precious Geneva Convention that says I can't."

Hogan made a face. "Touchy!" he observed.

"And I can be touchy any time I want to as well," Klink added.

Hogan exchanged glances with Newkirk standing beside him. Newkirk shrugged. "Touchy about anything in particular today, Kommandant?" Hogan asked.

"As a matter of fact, Colonel Hogan, I am." Klink started pacing in front of the line. "Today one of the cars from the motor pool was found to be missing."

Hogan rocked on his feet and turned to his men. "Okay, fellas, everyone search your lockers, okay? We're looking for a car for the Kommandant. Nothing too flashy, just your basic black."

The men laughed and started to relax. "Silence!" Klink bellowed. The laughter slowly subsided.

"Oh, come on, Kommandant, you can't think any of us has it," Hogan said. "Our driving privileges have been revoked till the end of the war." Again quiet laughter. Klink's face started to turn red. Well at least one of us will be warm in this weather. Get to the point, Kommandant!

"For your information, Colonel Hogan, the car has been recovered. It was found about one hundred yards outside of camp. The keys were gone, it was out of fuel—" Hogan stole a quick glance at Newkirk, who tried to look innocent—"and some of the plugs were missing. It had to be pushed back to the motor pool this morning."

"Oh, well—good way to get warm in cold weather like this, sir." Hogan waited for Klink's quaking to stop before continuing. He turned serious. "So what does this have to do with the men, sir?"

"Hogan, only one of my guards had permission to be outside the camp last night. Only one of my guards had a car last night. His car came back. This one didn't. Someone knows something about this and is keeping it to himself. I want to know what happened."

Hogan shrugged. "Well we didn't take it. Have you asked your own men?"

Klink made a fist and started shaking it. Hogan knew he was close to winning. "Of course I asked them!" Klink answered through gritted teeth. "No one had it." He straightened. "But the guard at the gate did say he saw someone drive out of the camp with it last night."

"Well, who was it?" Hogan asked.

"He doesn't know," Klink said, deflated.

Hogan nodded and rocked back and forth on his heels. "There you go, fellas—the Escape Committee has a new plan. Hop in a car and head to the gate; the guard'll let you right through."

"Hogannnnn—"

"Don't worry, Kommandant; when we abandon it we'll make sure we leave it gassed up. Wouldn't be neighbourly to leave it empty like that."

"Diiiiiiiiissssss-miiiiiissssed."

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"What's this all about, Colonel?" Hogan started to ask as he entered Klink's office by command late that night. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw another man in the room with Klink, wearing a black uniform with swastika bands on the arms and a skull-and-crossbones insignia on his cap. Gestapo. "Sorry. Didn't realize you had company." Hogan felt a chill go through his body that had nothing to do with the weather.

"Colonel Hogan, this is Colonel Feldkamp from the Hammelburg Gestapo." Klink nodded toward the smaller man almost reluctantly. From the half-done up buttons on Klink's uniform, Hogan could tell that the Kommandant had been shaken out of bed as well. "He has been sent to…"

"To discuss some issues with you, Colonel Hogan," Feldkamp broke in, turning to Hogan. His demeanour was almost pleasant, something that did nothing to put Hogan at ease. "I believe we have some unfinished business."

Hogan tried to look relaxed. "Really, Colonel? I can't recall anything that didn't get said or done the last time I met with the Gestapo."

"That's not quite the way I understand it," Feldkamp replied. "Of course, it has been quite some time." Feldkamp was kneading his knuckles almost subconsciously. Hogan swallowed. "I believe my colleagues asked you some questions that you were unwilling to answer."

"Maybe they didn't ask nicely," Hogan answered, suddenly feeling hot even on this coldest of nights.

"Perhaps you will find their manners better this time, Colonel Hogan. They have come back with me and are waiting for us to have another… conversation… in the cooler. Would you care to join me?"

Feldkamp gestured toward the door, pulled on his gloves, nodded to a stunned Klink, and led the way out.

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Kinch stood huddled near the wall of the cooler, listening, cursing that they didn't yet have a secret entrance into the cells. After hearing the conversation between Hogan and Feldkamp on the coffee pot listening device, he had decided to take a run down the newly-dug tunnel to see what he could find out. So far just mumbling. A little bit of cheek from Hogan. Noises like clothing being pulled off—maybe Hogan's jacket, Kinch thought. A bit of mild roughing up. Then finally some real dialog.

"Any information that I might have had is several months old now; surely you don't want to hear that."

"Actually, Colonel Hogan, what we really want to know about now is the increased escape activity in the surrounding prison camps. The reports all seem to indicate that the prisoners were last seen heading toward this camp…before they disappeared without a trace."

"Maybe there's quicksand somewhere nearby."

"Maybe. But I think perhaps they are being helped, somehow."

"You can't think I have anything to do with that."

"That is what I intend to find out, Colonel Hogan."

"It'll be a cold day in Hell—no, wait—we've already got that. Maybe that's why you're still here, Feldkamp. You're already in Hell; you don't have to go anywhere else to fit right in."

Then over the next forty-five minutes, Kinch learned that it's even harder to listen helplessly to someone hopelessly outnumbered being badly beaten, than it is to watch. He could only hope the images his mind concocted with each sound of fist striking flesh, or each moan, were exaggerated. But he had the distinct feeling that they weren't.