No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.

xx-xx-xx

Colonel Hogan looked like a white, scared rabbit when he burst into the barracks from the tunnels some time later that night. Though he had tried his hardest to get his wild breathing—and his quickly pounding heart—under control before he faced his men, he had not really been successful, and when he emerged from underground, panting and sweating, eyes darting around constantly, the men under his command sat him at the table in the common room, trying to hide a new, mounting panic of their own.

"Carter, get a blanket," Kinch ordered. Carter nodded and grabbed a moth-eaten, slim cover from his own bunk. Kinch took it and tried to wrap it around Hogan's shoulders, while Le Beau put a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of Hogan.

Hogan shrugged away the blanket and the fussing, and quickly surveyed the room. "Where's Newkirk?" he asked, still moving ceaselessly. He shivered as though cold, then wiped his hand across his eyes and brow.

"He's still out, Colonel," Le Beau answered, looking worriedly toward Kinch. "He is due back within a couple of hours. Where are the pilots?"

Hogan stood up and ran his hand through his hair, still working off all the adrenalin that had rushed through his body earlier. He knew he had to be careful how he explained what he had seen, and right now he didn't have words to relay the events that wouldn't scare the men as much as he had been scared witnessing them. So he simply said, "They aren't coming." He stopped just long enough to give his men a look that they knew wasn't to be crossed or questioned. "Let me know when Newkirk gets back. Meanwhile no one leaves this camp without my say-so. Understand that? No one. And that's an order."

And he disappeared into his office, closing the door with a slam behind him.

The others looked at each other, bewildered. "Something went wrong," Kinch guessed.

"Oui. Mon Colonel looked scared," Le Beau noticed.

"And now Colonel Hogan doesn't want us to go out either," Kinch said.

"Well, what about Newkirk?" Carter asked. "I mean, if there's trouble, shouldn't we go get him?"

"London says no one leaves camp."

"Who cares about London?" Le Beau sneered. "They aren't here to see."

"Yeah, but if we went out, we'd also be crossing the Colonel. And I don't think he's in any mood to have his orders disobeyed."

Le Beau nodded acquiescence. "And I am in no mood to face his anger."

Carter looked glum. "I guess all we can do is wait till someone explains what's going on."

"Let's hope Newkirk struck out with his fraulein tonight," Kinch said, looking toward Hogan's door. Experience told him that there was a lot of walking happening on the other side of that door. Pace to the desk, pace to the bunk. Pace to the desk, pace to the bunk. And this time, there was more than mere plotting brewing in Hogan's mind; there was fear. Kinch shuddered at the thought; it took a lot for Hogan to actually show his particularly negative emotions. What had happened tonight to throw him so? "I don't think the Colonel will calm down until he comes back."

xx-xx-xx

Peter Newkirk stopped for the fourth time since he had hit the woods tonight, clutching the tree nearest him with a lover's intensity. Another bloody patrol; what's going on tonight? He knew Colonel Hogan had gone out to get the downed pilots, and had not insisted that Newkirk cancel his planned time away. But there were still many more patrols than normal; something must have gone wrong.

Newkirk shivered, missing the warmth of the small apartment he had been in only an hour earlier. Once in a rare while, Colonel Hogan gave in to Newkirk's wandering spirit and let him leave the camp for purely personal reasons; a four or five hour pass is how they preferred to think of it. Hogan knew that his men would take no unnecessary chances, and thought it might even be important that the men not stand out at other times by appearing to be complete strangers in Hammelburg when they went into town to meet contacts. Ruing the contrast between the young fraulein's comfortable sofa and the rough, cold bark of the tree he was embracing, Newkirk almost wished the Colonel had denied him the pleasure of being in a young woman's arms for the evening. This kind of ending to the night was almost a cruelty.

Is the gov'nor still out here, too? Newkirk wondered. He watched one of the German soldiers pass within a few feet of his hiding spot, and held his breath until it was safe to move again. Only another half mile, mate, and you'll be safe at home. I swear, Lord, no more loose women for me—at least until the war is over, or these bleedin' patrols are called off for good!

xx-xx-xx

The door to Hogan's office swung open, and the Colonel popped his head out. "Any sign of Newkirk?" he asked tersely, taking in the men sitting tensely at the table.

"Not yet, Colonel," Kinch answered. "But he's not due, sir. Don't worry yet; he's always on time."

Hogan didn't seem to take any comfort in those words. "Le Beau, head to the end of the tunnel. See if he's coming. But keep your head down. I don't want any problems tonight, got it?"

Le Beau glanced at the others. "Oui, Colonel." Hogan turned away to close his door and disappear into his worry chamber again. "Colonel—" Hogan stopped and looked at the Corporal. "What is happening, Colonel? Are you all right?"

Hogan remained unmoving for a moment, then visibly forced himself to relax. "Sorry, fellas," he said. "Bad night. I'll explain when I've had time to disassociate it all. I just want Newkirk back here."

Kinch nodded. "A lot of patrols out there, Colonel?"

"Let's just say they aren't your usual friendly neighbourhood Krauts," Hogan answered. His dark eyes changed as a scene replayed before him that only he could see. The others exchanged looks, and finally Le Beau banged the side of the bunk that revealed the entrance to the tunnel. "No," Hogan said, his eyes still troubled, "not your usual Krauts at all."

xx-xx-xx

"Newkirk, where have you been?"

The barracks was a flurry of activity in the time shortly after midnight, as Newkirk climbed back into the hut with an apologetic look on his face. "Caught outside," he answered. "Bloody patrols everywhere. Is the gov'nor mad at me?" he asked, glancing toward the closed door to Hogan's office.

"Are you kidding?" asked Le Beau, trying for the second time that night to get someone to accept his offer of warm coffee. "He has been out here every ten minutes asking if you are back—since ten thirty!"

Newkirk grabbed the coffee gratefully between his cold hands. "I wasn't due back until midnight!" He took a long, slow drink. "Where are the flyers?"

"Something must have gone wrong out there," Kinch said in a low voice. "The Colonel didn't come back with anyone, and he's been jumpy ever since. Won't talk."

Newkirk frowned. "Well, if was anything for him like it was for me, I can understand why."

Hogan's door opened suddenly, and the senior POW, looking composed and dressed once more in his regulation uniform and brown bomber jacket, came into the main room. Walking swiftly to Newkirk, he put his hand on the young man's shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. "Are you all right? How did you go getting back here?"

Newkirk accepted the look, registering some surprise inside—there didn't seem to be even a hint of a reprimand in Hogan's voice or demeanour. "Well, sir, it was a bit of an effort: there were goons everywhere; the woods were just crawling with them."

Hogan nodded grimly. "I know." He stood up straight and took in the room. "Okay, fellas, gather round. We've got a problem." The men pulled up closer to the common room table. Hogan put his foot up on a bench and took a deep breath before continuing. "When I went out tonight, I found one kid that was caught up in the trees. When he came down, I also found a German patrol waiting." The men grimaced collectively at the thought; it was far too easy to remember their own capture to think of someone else's objectively. "Another baby face suddenly walked in on the whole thing... and then the Krauts shot them both, close range."

For a moment, the others were too stunned to speak. Then Carter barely whispered, "Colonel, that's against the Geneva Convention, isn't it?"

"Do you see know of anyone out in the woods who could confirm that?" Hogan asked wearily. The others shook their heads slowly. "One of the Germans said something about taking no prisoners. Then they fanned out to look for the others. I had to take off or risk exposing us as well." Hogan stared hard at the table. "I don't mind telling you, it was a pretty sobering experience."

"Maybe that's what London was talking about," Kinch mused.

"London?" Hogan said.

"Yeah, Colonel. London radioed before you came back, saying they don't want anyone out of camp until further notice. They didn't give any reason. There didn't seem any point in mentioning it till now, since you made the same decision," Kinch added hastily. He waited for the fallout.

There wasn't any. "No," Hogan agreed, "I think I would have been just a little irritated with their sense of timing." He looked at Newkirk. "Looks like you and I broke the rules."

Newkirk shrugged. "So, same routine as always, sir."

"Yeah. Only this time I wish we had gone by the book!"

xx-xx-xx

Roll call the following morning was a quiet affair. Neither Hogan nor Klink had had much sleep, and the cold winter wind blowing around Barracks Two left no one in the mood for conversation. Curious though he was about the cause of Klink's unease in facing the assembly, Hogan nonetheless felt a slight sense of foreboding when he was summoned to the Kommandant's office after morning mess.

"You wanted to see me, Kommandant?" Hogan asked.

"Yes, Hogan," Klink replied, turning to face the American. Hogan looked carefully at Klink's face. There were dark circles under his eyes, and grooves in his forehead that seemed to indicate that he had spent a long time with a furrowed brow recently, thinking of things perhaps none too pleasant. What he didn't know was that Klink was making the same appraisal of him. "Hogan," Klink began. He stopped and then sat down at his desk.

Hogan looked at the Kommandant, growing more concerned by the minute. "Something wrong, Colonel Klink?" he asked.

"Hogan," Klink began again, "Hogan..." He couldn't finish what he knew he had to say.

Hogan swallowed hard. What the hell is going on? "Yes, Kommandant?"

"Hogan, you need to escape."