No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes character is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.
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Though the ventilation in the main tunnel out of Stalag 13 had been greatly improved, Hogan was still finding it hard to breathe as he and his group headed out for the night. Unfortunately, he knew it had nothing to do with the availability of fresh air in the tunnel, and everything to do with his anxiety. He was the first one out; with a cautious, tentative push of the hollowed-out tree stump that served as a tunnel exit outside the camp, Hogan waited for a brief moment, listening for any sounds of patrols, and for the sweep of a light from the guards' tower. When the light curved past, Hogan hauled himself out of the tunnel and into the night, quickly reaching down to pull out Louis Le Beau. The two then waited, face down against the cold, hard earth, for the searchlights to pass again, and then Newkirk pulled himself up and out. Kinch followed, reaching down for two large offered sacks of explosives, and, after another sweep of the lights, Carter followed, closing the lid of the tunnel behind him. Then the group melted into the shadow of the nearby trees.
Hogan motioned for the group to separate enough to all find cover within the forest, two of them carrying the explosives carefully with them. He listened for patrols, or any indication from the camp that their escape had been discovered. Nothing. Just the whistle of an increasing wind that was biting their faces. The cold is an enemy, too. We'll have to make short work of this or we could be dealing with more than the Germans!
Hogan had had his men memorize the directions to the targets before they left the camp, so he had no doubt that if any man got separated from the others, he would be able to find his way home. But they still all seemed content to wait for him to lead the way, so, drawing in a calming breath, he pulled away from the shadow of the tree and gestured in the direction they would be taking.
Hogan felt four pairs of eyes glued to his back as he moved cautiously through the woods. Pausing now and then to orient himself and to listen, he nodded briefly in relief that the only sound he heard was the sudden halting of the men behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw only eyes reflecting pale moonlight, anxiety, and hope. He turned back and kept walking, trying to think only of the work ahead, and not the past that kept licking like burning flames at the corners of his mind.
After what seemed like an eternity, Hogan came to an abrupt halt. The others encircled him. Hogan pointed ahead, squinting in the darkness. "That's it," he said in a low voice. The others turned to look where he had pointed. In the distance they could see a clearing, with at this stage barely distinguishable objects gathered together, and a few buildings, all surrounded by high fencing. The ammo dump. Hogan felt his stomach tighten.
"So the bridge is a mile east of here," Le Beau whispered.
"Yep. Kinch, Carter—you know what to do."
"Right, Colonel," Kinch answered. "We'll rendezvous in an hour."
Hogan nodded. "Good luck." He watched, fighting for detachment, as Kinch and Carter made sure they had the right explosives pack and headed off into the darkness. Then he deliberately turned back and faced the two men remaining. "We've got some work to do of our own." Hogan noticed their eyes were still following their retreating comrades. "If we don't get moving, they're going to finish before we will, and we'll never live it down," he said.
Newkirk shrugged. "I bet Carter that I could make a bigger explosion than he could with his ruddy bombs."
"And Kinch said he would cook for a week if he finishes first—and he cannot cook, Colonel," Le Beau added. "So we had better hurry, or we will lose the war due to food poisoning."
Hogan nodded. That his men were trying to overcome their anxieties made him all the more resolute about making sure everything went smoothly. "Then we'd better go," Hogan replied. "I can barely take the taste of his coffee!"
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"We're gonna have to get to it at the base," Carter said, pointing.
Kinch looked at the bridge before them, looming large in the night, and looking, quite suddenly, far too exposed for any man to be hanging around if he didn't want to get shot. "You mean on those support beams?" he whispered.
"Yep. If we can wire up those beams, and then add a few timed explosions to the mix, we'll be looking at a pile of twigs in no time."
"It worries me how enthusiastic you are about these things, Carter."
Carter looked up from rummaging in the big sack they had brought with them. "Well, gee, Kinch, if you're going to do a good job, you've gotta like your work."
"How did you get to like this work in the first place?" Kinch asked, thinking perhaps he didn't really want to know the answer.
"Well, it was an accident, really. It started on my uncle's farm. Y'see, he let me drive his tractor one day, and I drove it out so far I found a little broken down bridge. And I remember thinking, 'Gee, it's so rickety, it could be dangerous if anyone tries to go over it.' But I wasn't sure how to take it down in pieces, so I thought—"
Kinch waved his hand in surrender. "Okay, okay; let's concentrate on taking this one down first. I'll get the rest of that story later… otherwise I won't get the chance to show off my culinary skills. Louis thinks he's the only one who can cook around here…well I'll show him a bit of Cajun that he'll never forget!"
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Le Beau's eyes followed the German uniform that was treading a path back and forth not thirty feet away from where he crouched in the darkness. Back, forth. Back, forth. No change of pace. The exact same number of steps in each direction, with the same short, sharp swivel as the soldier in question carried out his duty to protect the goods behind him. This didn't look like something Le Beau wanted to encounter tonight. Judging by the expression on Hogan's face, it wasn't something the senior officer was impressed with, either.
A muscle in Hogan's jaw was twitching, making him look angry as well as stressed. His dark eyes were darting back and forth, looking for signs of anyone else in the area, summing up the situation and trying to take this turn of events on board. He had considered that there might be someone guarding the dump; it was a possibility he had wanted to put out of his mind. But the idea had continued to gnaw at him, and he had never really stopped working on a contingency plan if they didn't have smooth sailing all the way through.
Unfortunately, the contingency plan included violence to the person in their way, which, no matter how necessary Hogan knew it was, niggled at him, since the man going through his paces directly in their path was probably some poor grunt who had been given this rotten shift because of his lowly rank or some minor infraction of the rules that he probably hadn't even known about in the first place.
The guard seemed to be on his own. Hogan looked around the perimeter of the heavy chain link fencing and saw no one, and no other gate for entry other than the one the solitary soldier was guarding. Overconfident bastards, Hogan thought. Better take advantage of it while we can; once we get rolling, they'll get wise to the idea of one poor soul doing the work all on his own!
Hogan looked past the guard to the setting behind him. Countless drums filled with what was probably fuel; bundles that were strapped together to look like bales of hay containing God-knows-what; a couple of large, barrack-like buildings that were in darkness; and other crates and containers scattered around the area. This was going to take more than one or two well-aimed explosives to set off a chain reaction.
There was nothing else to be done for it; Hogan nodded toward Newkirk, and the RAF Corporal dug into the pack and started pulling out some of the small, compact explosives that Carter had designed in the last couple of days. He handed a few to Le Beau, and some to Hogan, then put the bag down and turned back toward the living obstacle before them. Hogan quickly surveyed their surroundings and gestured pointedly toward some underbrush a few feet from where they were standing. Newkirk nodded, drew in a breath, and moved away from his companions.
Hogan waited until Newkirk had moved in closer to the German guard, then called out with a shout that seemed to indicate someone was in trouble, without actually saying any clear words. The soldier immediately stopped his pace, and brought his rifle to the ready. "Was ist los?" he called. The man moved away from his post and closer to the wooded area where Newkirk was hidden.
It was all over quickly; Newkirk's gun came down heavily on the back of the guard's neck, and with a strangled gasp the soldier slumped to the ground. Another blow to ensure a long-term headache, and Newkirk dragged him to the area where Hogan had pointed, then gave the thumbs-up.
Hogan nudged Le Beau, and the two of them hurried to Newkirk's side. Hogan thrust the remaining explosives at him, then uttered quietly, "Toss the stuff, and then run for cover. When this baby blows, we're in for a real shock, and I don't want either of you to get hurled into a tree. As soon as it's safe, we go; I'm sure company will be coming all too soon."
"Oui, Colonel," Le Beau answered.
"Right, gov'nor," added Newkirk.
Hogan took a final look at the guard lying unconscious near his feet and moved quickly and quietly toward the fence. Working his way down to where he could more accurately direct his aim, he looked for a target that was close enough to other ammunition to start a domino effect. His eyes stopped on a cluster of barrels a few feet on the other side of the fence. The collection stopped at another group of crates, which backed into a small building further inside the wire.
Hogan looked back toward Newkirk and Le Beau, whose outlines he could barely make out in the darkness. Le Beau was crouched down near a small join in the fencing, already attaching some dynamite to it, with long fuses ready to be set. Newkirk was much further along, an arm poised and ready to toss the incendiaries he had taken for himself.
Hogan quickly pushed the dynamite he was carrying through the fence, holding fast to the long fuses, then wove the line around the links, leaving only an inch or so hanging out. Then he pulled out his matches, gave a final look toward the two Corporals, and lit the fuses. The others were doing the same. Then Hogan ran quickly along the fence line in the opposite direction and, pulling a pin on the small explosives he had taken, he hurled the devices over the barriers and as far as he could into the main compound of the dump.
He was just turning from the fence toward the cover of the trees as the first explosion ripped through the night. Hogan felt a rumbling under his feet, then as the blasts increased in ferocity, the force knocked him off his feet, and he crawled behind the closest cover he could find, covering his head and lying as low and small as he could manage. Adrenalin causing him to draw heavy breaths, Hogan took the quickest of glances towards where he had just seen Le Beau and Newkirk. He could see no one near the fence, or anywhere else, and the roar of the explosions was blotting out all other sounds, hurting his ears and making him wince with discomfort and fear. Somewhere in the midst of the booming, screaming death of the ammo dump, he heard an alarm siren starting to wail; he doubted anyone farther away than he was would be able to even hear it.
Then the heat washed forward with the force of a physical blow, and glancing up, Hogan could see flames reaching up to the sky, flinging debris and ammunition in the air like feathers, and sending overwhelming heat rolling forward. Hogan lowered his head to protect his face from the hot air and the twisted metal and splintered containers being thrown like old rag dolls hundreds of feet away. Hugging the trembling earth, Hogan inched further away from the thundering inferno. Small arms ammo was being set off, sounding like popping corn in the midst of the carnage, and hand flares were blazing into the sky, like a deranged fireworks display.
A large, burning shell fragment whistled overhead, slamming into the tree behind Hogan and immediately causing it to burn. Several more followed, and Hogan realized he wasn't going to be able to stay where he was and expect to remain alive and well. One swift move brought him to his feet, and he raced, with no care for appearances, as far away as he could manage before another teeth-rattling explosion pushed him to his knees. A large, heaven-sent boulder was only a few feet away, and, trying to protect himself from the onslaught, he stumbled behind it, frantic for himself and for his comrades, whom he still could not see.
Suddenly something touched him, and he jerked his head up from the shelter of his arms to see Newkirk standing beside him. He screamed something that Hogan could barely hear as a whisper, and the two of them ducked as yet more explosions ripped through the night. "Where's Le Beau?" yelled Hogan.
Newkirk squinted as though trying to make out the words. Then he pointed farther away to another patch of trees that had not yet been consumed by flame. Hogan looked carefully, starting to cough from the dirt and dust being whipped up by the firestorm, and eventually saw the prone form of the Frenchman under a tree. Alarmed, Hogan broke from the shelter of the boulder and, unsteadily on the still-shaking ground, raced for Le Beau. "Louis!" he shouted, feeling in the din that his voice was barely a whisper.
Hogan's relief when Le Beau looked up from the ground was almost overwhelming. The Frenchman had only been protecting himself, and now, he tugged at Hogan's shirt to pull him down as well. Newkirk appeared beside them, panting.
"Let's get outta here!" Hogan called. The others nodded agreement. Newkirk helped Le Beau up, and, dodging shrapnel and other burning debris, they raced toward the rendezvous point, hoping upon hope that Kinch and Carter would be there, so they could all head home.