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xx-xx-xx

I've got to get out of here!

A panic unlike any he had ever felt before was coursing through Hogan's mind and body like a runaway train on a downhill track. Pacing was impossible; sitting still was even less possible. Hogan was twitching like a nervous cat and so unaccustomed to the unease that he started to question his own sanity.

I have to escape! How many nails were in that loose board in the ceiling? Eight. Would have been more if he had had the chance to get to it after the second time it nearly came crashing down on his head after a fierce rainstorm.

I'll just... go through the tunnel and get to the Underground, and they'll get me out, just like we've gotten everyone else out who's needed to go before me. He took a good look at a knot in the plank near the bed—he'd never noticed before that it seemed to resemble a sparrow in flight. He wondered how that had formed.

Yeah, right, then the Gestapo comes plowing through the camp and starts having a field day with my men... they discover the operation and everyone is shot. One, two, three, four pencils sitting in the old tin can converted to a holder on his desk. One of them was strangely dull... Carter must have taken one to do some of that light sketching he had been caught out doing in secret last week. The embarrassment of the poor Sergeant when he had his talent unveiled!

Just go... you've got to just go. No one would expect you to sit here and just wait to be shot in cold blood. Hogan noticed his crush cap was starting to look worn along the brim. Time to ask the Red Cross to finagle another one for him. There was nothing he liked about looking sloppy in uniform, even if it wasn't dress uniform.

Who would take over the operation? How would it run? And how long before Hitler's order gets extended? What about my men? The sky was turning a dark grey; rain would be coming this afternoon, and if it got cold enough tonight, snow would come next. Hogan thought of the two flyers he had seen shot down—were their bodies still out there, waiting for the snow to provide them with a coffin? Or had they been taken away? In either case, their families would be confronted with heartbreaking news soon enough.

Hogan pressed the balls of his hands fiercely into his eyes, his fists pushing against his forehead, the fire in his brain making him nearly gasp for air. He had to find a way to concentrate, to regain control of his traumatized mind and his panicked emotions.

Two days. Klink told him he had two days before the Gestapo showed up and made sure that Hogan wasn't taking up any more space in the barracks. It would take Hogan that long to bring himself under control, he thought fleetingly to himself. But in the meantime, he had to come up with a plan, if there was one. And fast.

xx-xx-xx

Darkness was settling in on the camp, and still Hogan had not come out of his quarters except when summoned for roll call. Kinch had told the others what he had witnessed, in low tones so as not to disturb their commanding officer, and since then the group had been on pins and needles, wondering if and when Hogan would reveal what was going on. It had not escaped any of their notice when Hogan had stood to be counted, that there was a distinct unease between him and Klink, and that Hogan had been uncharacteristically silent, with his eyes mainly studying the cold, cracked ground beneath his feet. When he did look at his men, it was with scrutinizing, almost fearful eyes that were now puffy red pools over black, heavy circles. Everyone had wanted to ask what was wrong, and how they could help. But no one dared. When Hogan was ready, he would tell.

But the wait was killing them.

Kinch suddenly appeared from below, holding a piece of paper that normally he would not hesitate to take directly to Hogan, even if he was asleep. But now, he suspected that Hogan was not only not asleep, but not necessarily able to cope with anything else to complicate what was appearing to be an abnormally complicated and confusing week already.

"Something going on, Kinch?" asked Newkirk, blowing a stream of smoke from one of the cigarettes that he hadn't stopped smoking since he last saw Hogan. The gov'nor's mood can't be good for my health, Newkirk remembered thinking, as he lit his seventh one.

"More from London about their order not to leave the camp," he replied.

"Do tell," Newkirk said, as Carter and Le Beau gathered close.

"You know it has to go to the Colonel first," Kinch replied. They turned almost as one toward the closed door.

"Oh yes?" Le Beau said. "And you want to disturb him now?"

Kinch shrugged, uncertain. "You know he'd be more upset if we walked on egg shells around him. He doesn't like his mood to affect the operation."

"Oui, but there is something different about the way he is acting this time, Kinch. I have never seen him like this."

Carter nodded agreement as he sat down at the table. "Yeah. I mean, the Colonel's never missed a chance to have a go at Colonel Klink before. And he always looks him in the eye. But this afternoon he was just... there. But not there."

For once no one corrected Carter. This time he seemed right on target, even if it sounded wrong. "Still, it's the Colonel's orders that he hears what London has to say straight off." Kinch braced himself and headed for Hogan's door. "No matter what he's doing in there."

Kinch knocked softly on the door to Hogan's quarters as the others crowded behind him, trying to get a look inside the room. Hogan's soft order to enter was almost enough to send them all in the opposite direction, but Kinch, determined to do the right thing, opened the door.

Kinch's eyes had to adjust to the dimness as Hogan hadn't turned on his light. Blinking, he made out the still figure of his commanding officer sitting on the edge of his bunk, leaning with his elbows on his thighs, staring at nothing. "Colonel?" Kinch said, edging his way in, reluctantly.

"Yeah, Kinch." The voice was hollow, weary.

"Message from London, Colonel."

Hogan raised his head, a flicker of interest reflected in his eyes with help from the light from the common room. "What is it?"

"They said orders to stand down have been due to unconfirmed reports of a big shake-up at Hitler's headquarters. Rumors of serious recriminations for anyone caught outside a prison camp."

Hogan's mind went back to those two children he had watched be mowed down last night. "Yeah, well, you can tell them it's not unconfirmed."

"Also, they say they have confirmed the location of an oil refinery about ten miles from here that the Krauts have been using to supply troops, and they've also been keeping convoy trucks there that carry fuel and weapons heading for the Eastern front."

"And?"

"And... they want us to do something about it, sir. The convoy is supposed to be heading out tomorrow night at midnight."

Hogan snorted. "They want us to stand down, and they want us to go out?"

"They were just explaining the stand down order," Kinch added. "They say now they want us to proceed with caution... immediately."

Hogan laughed bitterly. Kinch flinched. "Expendable. That's what we've always been, right?" Hogan stood up. "Okay, Kinch. Tell London we accept. No, make that, tell them I accept. You fellas aren't going out till we know it's a bit safer than what I saw last night. I myself have nothing to lose."

He brushed past Kinch as the others raced for an inconspicuous post elsewhere in the barracks, and walked out into the compound.

Kinch looked at the others, bewildered. "'Nothing to lose'?"

"Something's going on, mate," Newkirk declared. "There's a big something eating at the gov'nor, and he's holding back."

"And another bit of happy news came in, too," Kinch added.

"What else could there be?" Carter asked.

"The Underground reports lots of patrols still in the area, and a couple of locals say they're sure they're being watched. They're going to have to close up shop until things cool off."

"Lovely," Le Beau nearly spat. "So we are to go out, knowing that the Krauts are all over the place, and have no back up? Mon Colonel is right—they do not think of us as anything but rag dolls to throw away when they are done playing with us."

"Does the gov'nor know all this?" Newkirk asked.

Kinch shook his head. "But the way he's acting, there's more to this than meets the eye, and we won't know what it is till he cracks and tells us."

xx-xx-xx

"General Burkhalter's car has just pulled into camp," Le Beau announced the next morning, turning from the laundry he was carefully hanging on the makeshift clothes line. Hogan pulled away from the wall he was leaning against and without a word walked away. The others exchanged worried looks and burst back into the barracks to activate the listening device they had planted in Klink's office—connected to a coffee pot receiver they kept under Hogan's desk.

"...that you are going to make sure everything is done according to the Fuhrer's orders, Klink," Burkhalter was saying when they got it working.

Hogan's men raised their eyebrows. "Of course, General Burkhalter," Klink replied, sounding less than enthusiastic.

"What's the matter, Klink? I thought you would be more than happy to have Hogan out of your hair."

"Oh, I am, I am." Klink was so quick to respond that his answer was nearly missed as the men gasped at Burkhalter's revelation. Hogan leaving? "It's just that it is so sudden."

"You know how the Fuhrer is when he gets an idea," Burkhalter said. The aging General paced slowly in front of Klink's desk, nodding his head as he agreed with the speed of the command down the ranks. But if there was one thing Albert Burkhalter had learned as a member of Hitler's staff, it was not to hesitate for a second when the Fuhrer demanded action. Otherwise, he could be on the receiving end of one of the man's less than rational temper tantrums. "He wants to make sure this is done immediately. At all camps, and in all places."

"But General Burkhalter, the last time the Fuhrer suggested something like this, Reichsmarshal Goering talked him out of it!" Klink reminded him. He added in a lower voice, "And it is against the Geneva Prisoner of War Convention."

"Do you think it is wise to remind the Fuhrer of such things, Klink?"

"No, Herr General," Klink nearly whimpered. "It's just that... if we do this now, and then the Fuhrer changes his mind..."

Hogan's men were becoming more and more concerned as they listened to the exchange. None of what was being said made sense. But if Hogan was leaving, perhaps Klink had told him so, and Hogan had simply been unable to find a way to break the news to them? That, at least, would account for his mood.

"The Gestapo is coming in tomorrow, Klink. You are to give them your complete cooperation."

"Of course, Herr General."

"You have, of course, kept this a secret?"

"Oh, of course, General Burkhalter. No one knows about this." A pause. "I wish I didn't know about it."

"You have become too comfortable with Hogan, Klink. You need to be more detached. This order of the Fuhrer's in the end will perhaps be good for you. And it will free up some space in your camp—you are always telling me you need more room for your prisoners, since no one ever escapes." Burkhalter laughed.

Le Beau's stomach turned. "He is talking about taking mon Colonel away from us, and he is laughing."

"Yes, sir," Klink labored to answer. "You know, General Burkhalter, I cannot help but think that in Colonel Hogan's case, execution is not the best answer—"

A collective gasp escaped the eavesdroppers' mouths. What was that Klink just said?

"...better if perhaps the Gestapo were to take Hogan back to Headquarters for more intensive questioning. You know he has always been considered such an important prisoner. And if he is somehow responsible for the activities around the camp, as Major Hochstetter says, then perhaps Hogan could be of more use if he—"

"Ach—Hochstetter," Burkhalter dismissed, pouring himself a glass of schnapps from Klink's decanter; "he is a small man with a big mouth. But he is Gestapo. And when he gets here tomorrow, I am sure he will be quite happy to do the work the Fuhrer has commanded of him."

All too happy, Klink thought. He sat at his desk. "General Burkhalter, Hogan has been quite vocal lately about escaping." Maybe if I can prepare him for Hogan not being here when the time comes...

The prisoners looked at each other, confused. This was anything but true; as a matter of fact, Hogan always made a point of assuring Klink that he would do anything not to ruin the Kommandant's perfect No Escape record. What was Klink trying to do?

"Escaping?" Burkhalter repeated. He turned to Klink. "Well, you have two choices, Klink. You can either put Hogan in the cooler to make sure he is here tomorrow, or you can let him escape—with the Fuhrer's order that there be no room in prison camps for enemy air corps officers, when he is caught the same goal will be achieved, yes? I expect you would be more anxious to put him in the cooler; that way your No Escapes record will remain unbroken."

Klink swallowed the bad taste that rose into his throat. My record is nothing next to an innocent human life. "The other prisoners will be very upset when this happens," he managed to say.

"That is what you have guards for. If the prisoners are out of control, your guards can control them... with their rifles. Where is Hogan now?"

"I expect he is in his quarters, General."

"Does he suspect anything?"

"I don't think so, Herr General."

"You have not faced Hogan with that same sour face you are showing me, have you? That would be a red flag to a bull like Hogan, Klink."

"No, Herr General. I think it was just something I ate."

At that moment the door to Barracks Two flew open. Hogan's men quickly disassembled the coffee pot and shoved it under Hogan's desk. Hogan walked in just as they were finishing. "Anything good on the pot?" he asked.

No one answered. Hogan looked from one man to the other, registering their pale faces, their traumatized eyes, their pity. They knew. "So, you know what's going on," he said, walking back out to the common room.

The men followed. "You've got to leave, Colonel," Le Beau said, the first to dare speak.

"'E's right, sir, you can't stay with an order like that 'anging over your 'ead. Come tomorrow, Hochstetter'll be here to do his worst," Newkirk agreed.

Hogan paused at the stove, holding a cup but unable to remember what to do with it.

"Klink told Burkhalter he didn't tell you. How did you find out?" Kinch asked.

"Klink told me," Hogan said, disturbed by the weakness of his own voice. He carried his empty cup to the table. "He couldn't keep it to himself." He tried to force a grin onto his face. "You know how I always charm him." The grin disappeared as he played ineffectively with the cup. "He practically begged me to escape."

"For once I agree with the filthy Boche," Le Beau admitted.

"Louis's right, boy—I mean sir!" Carter said. "Otherwise the Gestapo's gonna—"

"Carter!" Kinch chastised the Sergeant into silence. He turned to Hogan. "Colonel, we'll get you out through the tunnel."

Hogan shook his head. "There'll be Krauts all over the woods. With that order out it'd be one sighting and bang: I'm dead." Hogan stood up. "We still have a mission to complete, right? That oil refinery and those trucks are going to drag this war out and get more of our boys killed. Hochstetter's not coming till tomorrow; that gives me a whole day before I have to panic, right?"

"Right," Kinch said, trying to support Hogan's attempt at lightness—the Colonel's automatic defense against what must be a feeling of pure panic. "That's plenty of time."

"I might get the Underground to give me a hand; I don't want you fellas involved while all this is going on. The 'no prisoners' order doesn't include enlisted men yet, but what happened last night makes me wonder if anyone will really take notice of that."

"No go, Colonel," Kinch said regretfully. Hogan looked at him questioningly. "The Underground says they're being watched like hawks at the moment; they're shutting down till the Krauts ease up."

Hogan shook his head and sighed heavily. "Well, that's that, then." Hogan swirled imaginary contents in his empty cup and headed toward his room. "Guess I'm on my own. London always said they'd deny knowledge of our activities if we were caught. No one takes a chance on this one but me. And that's an order."