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

xx-xx-xx

"This your best stuff, Carter?" Hogan asked, taking a handful of explosives from the Sergeant and putting them into a pack.

Carter nodded, gulping, and kept handing Hogan the equipment he needed. He never said a word, just watched Hogan as the Colonel moved from one place to another. Hogan tried to ignore the puppy eyes and concentrate on the night ahead. He focused more than necessary on the actual packing of the bag, frowning as one explosive was fussy about sharing space. Hogan was uncomfortable being the subject of such intense scrutiny, and dealt with it by making constant small talk, and by avoiding stillness.

"This is how it's gonna go," Hogan said. "All you have to do is sit and wait. I'm going to go to the refinery, put some dynamite under those trucks, throw a few grenades, and get out of there. Hochstetter's not due till lunch time tomorrow. So in the morning I'll show up for roll call, play it nice and calm. That'll give Klink some witnesses to my being here, and it just might convince the Gestapo that there's nothing suspicious about the timing of my convenient disappearing act. That way, if it's at all possible, this unit can continue to operate."

Hogan took a chance on facing his men. All he saw were four pairs of anxious eyes. He looked away again and moved the pack toward the bunk that led to the tunnel as he added, "Just in case something happens between now and then—well, here are my orders for you for after I leave. Until a replacement shows up, and that shouldn't be too far off, Kinch, Newkirk—I want you two to make as many decisions as possible together. I need Kinch's cool-headedness, and Newkirk's hot-headedness. You need both to make a unit like this one work. Decisions made solely on logic won't work... but neither will those based fully on emotion. If you can't agree, you go Kinch's way." Newkirk and Kinch looked at each other, distressed at being appointed before Hogan had even left, and yet knowing it had to be done this way. Newkirk lowered his head, shoving his hands in his pockets and mumbling his understanding, while Kinch just nodded, then bowed his head low and stared at the floor.

Hogan looked at Le Beau and Carter. "I'll expect you two to give them your full support. And that you'll get everyone else to do the same." Carter and Le Beau nodded. "Whoever they send obviously isn't going to be an officer. But no matter what rank he's got, I expect you all to do as he says. I don't want any bad reports."

The group nodded numbly. The same words Hogan bit back were registering in all their minds: If you're alive to get reports at all. Hogan's men couldn't believe they were quite possibly getting their final commands from the man whom they had come to rely on over the last three years. Continue with someone else? It was impossible! And yet out of respect and acceptance of Hogan, they could only agree to whatever he asked of them.

Hogan turned to Carter. "Carter, your expertise is explosives. No one can beat you at that. Whatever Kinch and Newkirk decide to do—you make the decisions on how it gets blown up. Right?"

Carter could barely swallow. He didn't want to make decisions. Not because he was afraid to, but because it would mean Colonel Hogan wasn't there to guide them himself. He was ready to blurt all this out, but somehow his mouth wouldn't work for more than a few words, and he felt like he was being strangled. "Right, Colonel," he choked.

"Le Beau," Hogan began. He looked at the small Frenchman, whose eyes looked like two dark pools, threatening to spill over onto his cheeks.

Le Beau visibly straightened and swallowed hard, determined to be strong. "Oui, Colonel," he said, cursing the slight tremor in his voice.

"Louis, it's your job to make sure they all stay in line—of the group of us, you're probably the one who sees what's really going on in people's minds the most clearly. Use that vision for good, not evil. Okay?"

Louis practically whispered his answer, fighting to stop his bottom lip from trembling. "D'accord, mon Colonel."

Hogan punched the side of the bunk to release the ladder to the tunnel. "I'll see you later tonight." He double-checked his watch, glanced at his dark clothing, picked up the bag, and was gone.

xx-xx-xx

"London said no one is to go out."

"Bloody London told us to look after the refinery...and to protect Papa Bear at all costs!"

"But the Colonel's orders were to stay behind, too. And, boy, you know how mad he gets if we don't follow orders."

"Zut alors! Of all nights, he should not be alone tonight—think about what is coming for him; we should not have let him go on his own!"

"I say we tag along," Newkirk insisted.

"Oui, me too," Le Beau agreed.

Kinch furrowed his brow. He knew he was right. He knew they were all right. London's orders had been contradictory, but Hogan's had been quite clear: no one but the Colonel was to go to the refinery. Kinch wanted desperately to bend to Hogan's wishes. But, he reasoned, after tomorrow he would never have the chance to back up his commanding officer again. And if anything happened tonight, and they hadn't tried to help, they would have to live with that lack of action forever.

Still, he closed his eyes as he tried not to choke on his own words. "If we disobey Colonel Hogan's orders now, after all this time, he may think we're disregarding him before he's even gone."

"And if we do not follow him, he may think we are abandoning him before he is gone," Le Beau countered.

Newkirk blew out a last puff of smoke before crushing out his cigarette on the floor with his foot. "So, what's it to be, mates?"

xx-xx-xx

"Carter, do me a favor and get your elbow out of my ear."

"Sorry about that, Newkirk—but you said we have to stay close together."

"Blimey, any closer and you'll be inside me; now shove off!"

Louis Le Beau approached and gave them a stern look in the darkness. "Quiet, both of you. Do you want to be seen?"

"Sorry, Louis, it's just that Kinch said we had to make sure no one saw us—"

"Quiet, you guys." Kinch's voice carried over them all. He pointed in the distance. "There's the Colonel over there."

Newkirk squinted and looked in the direction of Kinch's finger. Sure enough, there, about thirty yards away, was Colonel Hogan, crouched low in the blackness, slipping silently out from underneath a truck just outside the gates surrounding the oil refinery he had been ordered to target. But as quickly has he had become visible, he was invisible again, something Newkirk both cursed and blessed. How were they supposed to keep an eye on someone they couldn't see? "Wish we could tell 'im we're here," he muttered.

"The compromise was we keep watch, but we only intervene if there's trouble," Le Beau reminded him.

"Well 'ow can we tell if there's trouble if we can't even see 'im?"

"Have you ever seen a Kraut react quietly to having his throat slit?" Le Beau said acidly.

"Enough, you guys," Kinch said. "Looks like Colonel Hogan is nearly done. Let's spread out and make sure the path home is clear. If he gets back before we do, our measly non-com stripes are going to be gone."

"I'll go this way," Carter said, heading west, and straight into Newkirk.

Newkirk gave Carter a slight push in the opposite direction. "That way toward home, mate," he said with a sigh. Blimey, gov'nor... don't leave me to deal with this on me own!

xx-xx-xx

Long after the explosions had died down and the noise of panicked madness had faded away outside, the dim light in Colonel Hogan's office had stayed on. Time passed, and the men in the common room had stayed awake, staring at the thin shaft of light that showed through the crack under the door to his quarters, and hoping somehow contradictorily that Hogan would either come out, or shut the light out and go to sleep. But he didn't, and so they didn't sleep either, their minds all focused on the coming day.

There was no sound coming from Hogan's room; indeed, after he returned from the mission, he gave a brief smile to his closest companions, assured them that all had gone well and that he had avoided the two patrols he had spotted, and then seemed to indicate that he wanted to turn in. Somewhat disappointed, the men had agreed and wished Hogan a peaceful sleep, but that was clearly not on the senior POW's mind.

Carter was the first to finally speak. "Maybe the Colonel's fallen asleep with the light on," he suggested.

Le Beau shook his head. "He never does that."

"Maybe he's listening to the coffee pot."

"The light's been out in Klink's office for over an hour," Kinch noted.

Newkirk kept his thoughts to himself. Maybe he's writing his will. He couldn't imagine what could be going through Hogan's mind right now. Three years of running a secret organization, three years of taking chances with his life for the good of the Allies, three years of building a trust and rapport with this ragtag bunch of ex-flyers—all to come to a sudden halt in less than six hours, and all because he was an officer. What was the good of being an officer anyway? Newkirk had always wondered. His opinion had always been that officers were self-important, self-centered, pompous prats, whose concern for their subordinates was a shallow one at best. That was, until he had met Colonel Hogan. And now, the man who had changed his view was facing the ultimate crisis—alone.

He wouldn't have it. Newkirk slipped quietly off his bunk and approached Hogan's door. The others said nothing, merely looking at him with warnings in their eyes. Newkirk ignored them and knocked very quietly, half wishing that Hogan wouldn't answer.

But he did. "Yeah?"

Newkirk opened the door and peered inside. Hogan was sitting on his lower bunk with his feet up. He appeared to have been reading, as there was an open book on his lap, but he closed it as he greeted the Corporal. "What is it, Newkirk?" Hogan asked.

Newkirk registered the almost complete lack of emotion or energy in Hogan's voice. Surprised, but determined not to show it, he closed the door most of the way behind him and approached his commanding officer. "Uh—just making sure everything's all right, gov'nor," he stammered. "You don't usually stay up this late after an assignment, sir."

Hogan looked back, noncommittal. "You don't either." Newkirk said nothing. Hogan shrugged. "Got a lot on my mind tonight. It's not every day you have to go running from the firing squad."

Newkirk shifted uneasily. "No, I guess it's not." He tried to laugh. "Blimey, I should say it's a bloody good thing it's not, too!"

Hogan nodded, with just a hint of a smile. "You okay about being given temporary command with Kinch until my replacement comes?"

"Oh, yeah, Colonel, I've got no problems with that." He had so far successfully avoided looking Hogan in the eye. Now, he took the best look at Hogan's floor that he had ever taken. "Just thinking how much better it would be if you were able to stay in command yourself, sir."

"There was always the chance any of us would have to go, Newkirk," Hogan said quietly.

"Yeah, but not like this," Newkirk protested. Maybe too strongly, he thought, as he saw Hogan look away uncomfortably. "You ready to go downstairs, Colonel? Anything we can do?" Newkirk asked awkwardly.

"Just make sure Le Beau remembers I'm down there when he's making dinner. Don't give my share to Schultz, okay?"

Newkirk nodded and let a hint of a smile pass his lips. "Double rations for you till you're picked up, gov'nor. Promise."

Hogan nodded. "You'd better get some sleep," he said. "You'll have a lot to take over in the morning. I'll only be around as an advisor for a little while—you're going to have to learn to do it on your own."

Newkirk turned to go. "G'night, gov'nor."

"Good night, Newkirk."

Newkirk was about to leave when another knock on the door stopped him. "Colonel Hogan?"

"Come on in, Carter," Hogan said. Newkirk turned to Hogan and nodded his farewell, unwilling to reveal himself while the Sergeant was present. Hogan understood and nodded back, then turned his attention to the Sergeant who was almost hopping from foot to foot. "Something on your mind?"

Carter moved reluctantly into the room, as though he were acting in spite of himself. Hogan watched as the young man obviously considered his words, then gave up the pretense he was building and suddenly blurted out, "I'm scared, Colonel."

Hogan swung his feet onto the floor and sat up. "Tell me what it's all about," he said.

Carter started pacing in front of Hogan. "Well, I didn't want to bother you with this, Colonel. I mean I know you've got a lot of stuff to think about and all. But I'm scared for you, and I'm scared for us—I'm just plain scared!"

Hogan nodded. Carter couldn't express it eloquently, but he said it better than anyone else could have. "Sit down, Carter," he said. Carter pulled out Hogan's desk chair and sat on it so he could use the back as a resting place for his arms. "Take a deep breath and start over. What are you scared about?"

Carter looked surprised. "Well, gosh, Colonel. I'm scared for you. I mean, suppose the Germans catch on that you're in the tunnel? Suppose they find you and drag you out of there?" Suddenly Carter looked guilty. "Sorry," he said in a whisper. "I guess that's a bad thing to ask you."

Hogan stood up. "Carter," he said through an exhale of breath, "you're not saying anything that hasn't been running through my mind for the past two days," he said. "But when you consider it, this has always been a possibility. What's been to stop the Krauts from catching us any time? We've always known there's a risk with the tunnel. Only this time I'll be staying in it, and they'll be looking for me somewhere else. So that makes it an even safer place to be, right?"

Carter nodded, uncertain. "I never thought of it like that before," he said.

"So put your mind at rest. Being in the tunnel is probably a pretty good place to be—the Krauts won't think I'm hiding in my own basement." Carter bobbed his head. "I'll be quiet as a church mouse down there; promise. No one will ever know."

Gee, Colonel, I don't know how we're going to operate without you," Carter said. "You always keep so calm, even when things seem hopeless. I mean you always manage to find a way out of everything." He looked down at the floor. "I wish you could find a way out of this. I'm sure Kinch and Newkirk will do a great job but—I haven't worked for anybody but you."

Hogan smiled benignly at the explosives expert, the last to join his band of saboteurs. When he first arrived, Carter had been unconfident, even awkward at presenting his expertise to the others. But over the course of time, he had proven himself more than capable. And, as he was showing Hogan now, even more than loyal. Hogan put a hand on his shoulder. "You've done great things, Carter," he said. "And I expect to hear about plenty more of them when I get home. Just remember to use the code."

Carter smiled up at Hogan. "I will, sir," he said. He stood up. "You'd better go to sleep, Colonel. You'll be busy in the morning."

Hogan nodded. "Okay, Carter," he said. Carter smiled again and turned to go. "Oh, and Carter—" Carter turned back. "Nice stuff you gave me tonight. It worked like a charm."

"I know; it looked great," Carter said before he could stop himself. Hogan raised an eyebrow. "Uh—I mean, we looked out the barracks window, and all you could see was the... sight of the ...uh... the flames were just..."

Hogan shook his head. "It's okay, Carter. I know you fellas tailed me." Carter tried to deny it but Hogan put up a hand to stop him. "It was like watching Laurel and Hardy. You and Newkirk are made for each other." Hogan thought of his two men, of whom he had caught a glimpse ahead of him as he approached the tree stump entrance to the main tunnel. "Look after each other, all right?"

Carter swallowed, hard. "Yes, Colonel. And you take care of yourself, too."

Hogan nodded and the men said goodnight. Hogan thought for a minute, staring at the closed door. Then he turned back to the book he had left on the bunk. His dog-eared Bible. How many times he had referred to it during his tenure as head of this operation. How many times it had offered comfort and inspiration. But now, with his head spinning and his heart surging, its power seemed to be failing him. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid. He read the passage again, and again, until the words blurred on the page. But no matter how much he willed it, he could not put his fear aside, and eventually put the book down on his desk, unable to do anything but repeat the phrases, turning them into an order: The Lord is close to all who call on Him... Do not be afraid.

But he was always terrible at following orders, and Hogan remained awake and anxious for most of the night, with several men only yards away doing the same. Though he was tempted several times to come out and join them, Hogan was unwilling to make them more fearful, and so he remained in his quarters. He had never felt so alone.