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

xx-xx-xx

"Re-pooooooort!"

Wilhelm Klink's voice was a little too loud the next morning for Hogan's taste, and he lowered his head and turned slightly away from the din as Schultz turned to the Kommandant to announce that all the prisoners were in the camp at this early hour of the day. This is just routine, he tried to tell himself. You play with Klink a bit at roll call, you go into the tunnel... all stuff we've done before. Only this time you don't come back up. Nothing too scary, right? Right. So why am I shaking in my shoes?

"Herr Kommandant, all prisoners present and accounted for."

"Very good, Schultz!" Klink moved briskly toward the group of prisoners assembled outside Barracks Two and scrutinized them carefully, his eyes coming to rest on Colonel Hogan. He moved in closer. "Hogan, you are looking rather worn out this morning. Isn't your bed comfy enough?" he sneered.

Hogan looked into Klink's face with forced disinterest. The Kommandant's eyes were almost pleading, and Hogan could see the question in them: why aren't you gone? He shrugged and dug his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. "Let's just say the noise last night disturbed my dreams a little bit." Hogan squinted as he looked into the smoke-filled sky, and avoided taking in a deep breath, as he knew the air was still somewhat thick with the memories of burning oil.

"Never mind that, Hogan. That has nothing to do with you." Klink's grip tightened on his riding crop as he spoke through gritted teeth. "I expect to see you in my office after roll call, Colonel," he added, his eyes boring into the senior POW. The pleading, the questioning, remained.

Hogan knew what the topic of conversation would be when the two met. Just keep up appearances for a little longer, Klink. You can't give away what you've told me! "Whatever you say, Kommandant," he said coolly.

Klink backed up and started damage control. "Now, gentlemen, no doubt last night you heard some unexpected noises...some shouting...perhaps a bit of what sounded like panic," he added, trying to laughingly dismiss the frenzy that was Stalag 13 after Hogan had completed the mission to destroy the refinery last night. "But let me assure you that—"

Klink cut off as a car was heard barreling through the gates. Even in the early morning light the sheen off the black paint was disturbing. Hogan gave a brief glance to his men, who were starting to look distinctly uneasy. The car ground to a halt about thirty feet away and the door swung open. Klink turned to the prisoners as soon as he realized who was getting out. "Dismissed!" he said quickly, almost urgently.

Hogan didn't wait to be told twice. The sight of Gestapo Major Wolfgang Hochstetter started a chill that penetrated right through to his bones. He's early! Hogan realized. Real early! And, surrounded by his men, he tried to stop himself from actually running out of sight.

"You will stop, Hogan!" came a voice.

Hogan froze mid-step, still turned toward Barracks Two and safety. His hands turned to ice. He clenched his jaw to avoid saying anything; the muscles twitched angrily. He felt his men close in around him, but he could not look at them.

Footsteps came closer until he could feel someone standing directly behind him. "I need to speak with you, Colonel Hogan."

Deliberately, stiffly, more than calmly, Hogan turned around and faced the smaller man. He looked Hochstetter in the eye, something that had always bothered him, since he saw very little in the Gestapo officer's eyes that would lead to his soul. Hogan could feel his men shifting slightly. "Something I can do for you, Major?" Hogan said, fighting his hardest to maintain a calm exterior.

Hochstetter smiled, a sickening, sweet parting of his lips that gave Hogan an even greater sense of foreboding. The American felt beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead and under his collar. Don't let him see that you know what's going on!

"We had a bit of trouble last night, Hogan. One of our oil refineries was blown to Kingdom Come." Hochstetter moved in till he was nearly standing on Hogan's feet. Hogan straightened even more, until he was practically looking down his nose at the German. "I cannot help but think that somehow you had something to do with that."

Hogan just shook his head slowly. "You don't know what you're talking about, Major," he said.

"No matter," Hochstetter dismissed. "I will enjoy trying to find out... before we shoot you as planned. Take him!"

With a sudden wave of his hand, Hochstetter summoned two of the Gestapo guards that had accompanied him, and Hogan found himself being forcibly pulled by the arms. Knowing this time that regardless of the outcome of his interrogation he was to be executed, Hogan struggled, resisting the grips restraining him, practically being dragged away, as his men tried to pull him back. His ears were ringing; all he could hear was shouting, shouting. His men pulling, screaming, protesting. His breathing was labored, shaky; he knew it was too late for anything but panic. But panic was not about to save him.

The sudden sound of a gunshot ripped through the air, bringing all noise and movement to a halt. Hogan stood breathing heavily between the two guards. Le Beau's hand stayed on his upper arm, and he could sense it was Newkirk's hand on his shoulder from behind.

Hochstetter lowered his pistol. Calmly he looked at Hogan and said, "You are an Allied Air Corps officer and an enemy of the Third Reich. According to the wishes of the Fuhrer, you are to be executed, as there is no longer any room in our prison camps for enemy officers. But I have my own interest in your activities first, Colonel Hogan, and so you will be interrogated regarding the sabotage activities around this camp before your rightful departure." He nodded at his guards. "Take him to the solitary confinement cells. We will question him there before we shoot him."

The two guards jostled Hogan away from his men. "No—no!" came Le Beau's voice, as his grip tightened on Hogan. His hand was pried away and Le Beau was shoved back toward the others, as a guard gave him a warning wave of his rifle. Newkirk laid a restraining hand on the Frenchman's shoulder and stood staring, devastated, at the scene before him. Klink stood, dumbfounded, knowing he had to now succumb to the wishes of the Gestapo, who were following orders from the very top, and Schultz stood equally dumb nearby. He had known nothing of the command to do away with the high-ranking prisoner.

As the guards were about to pull Hogan away from the barracks area, Kinch stepped forward and silently handed Hogan his crush cap, which had fallen off in the scuffle. As Hogan took it, he silently told Kinch everything he had always wanted to say, and could see in the radio man's eyes the same thing happening. He glanced back toward Le Beau, whose eyes were filled with tears, and then toward Newkirk and Carter, who were standing, still stunned, shaking, and looking for all intents and purposes as though they were going to charge the Germans to stop this.

Obviously Hochstetter suspected this as well, as he gestured for a third guard to stand, rifle ready, between Hogan and his men. Kinch stepped back to the others.

Hogan stared at the men he had worked with for so long. He wanted to say something glib, something light hearted. He wanted to take those looks off their faces, to say something to comfort them, to reassure them. But he couldn't think of a thing, so he simply nodded slightly and let his eyes talk for him, hoping they weren't relaying too much of the absolute terror he was feeling now, and then allowed himself to be led away.

xx-xx-xx

The order to confine all prisoners to Barracks after the heartbreak outside had little impact on the men of Barracks Two, who would have retreated to their huts whether ordered to or not. Louis Le Beau, who would normally have been cooking up a storm by now, sat impotently at the common room table, occasionally wiping away the tears that were streaming ceaselessly down his cheeks. He looked at no one, wallowing in absolute misery.

Newkirk sat across from him, punishing the deck of cards that had the misfortune to be nearest his hand when he stumbled back into the barracks. He split the deck in two, then ground one half into the other mercilessly, pushing all the harder when any of the cards refused to submit to his will. Then he would start the process over again, with no intention of ever starting a game. His concentration was extraordinary. But it was the only thing stopping him from breaking down, whenever he felt stinging in the back of his eyes, and saw Hogan's struggle with the guards playing out all too clearly before him.

Kinch, too, remained quiet, sitting on the bunk that hid the tunnel below, remembering. All he could do was remember. Hogan's trust in him had been unwavering, such a unique thing in a time when people had barely gotten used to living alongside colored people, much less working closely with them. But Hogan had been mentally colorblind, as were Newkirk, Le Beau, and Carter. And suddenly, Kinch knew his life had been changed for the better, even though he had been stuck in a German Prisoner of War camp. He had seen what was possible, and he could never turn back. And one of the men responsible for that change was now sitting in solitary confinement, awaiting death. Kinch was numb.

The ghost of the group was Carter. When the men filed, dazed, back into the building, Carter had headed straight for Hogan's quarters. At first he stood in the doorway, just staring. Then, he shuffled inside and stared at Hogan's bunk. Finally, he sat down at Hogan's desk, and just looked at nothing at all. He had told Hogan last night that he was scared, and Hogan had tried to reassure him that everything would be fine. And Colonel Hogan was always right; everything usually was fine. But today it wasn't.

Carter's eyes were full with unshed tears. He could feel them brimming on his bottom lids, waiting to spill. But he couldn't let them fall on the Colonel's floor. Hogan would not have wanted Carter to cry; he would have wanted him to be strong. On the other hand, Carter thought, whenever the Sergeant felt himself becoming too emotionally involved in something, the Colonel had always been quite firm in telling him that it was Carter's humanness that helped him do his job with the least risk to anyone not targeted by their activities. That it was his emotion that helped him to save lives. And so Carter let the tears out, and a heart-wrenching sob escaped his throat as he shook in his agony over what was to come.

Suddenly the room was filled with Hogan's closest companions, who, in concentrating on comforting Carter, were all really supporting each other. With things now being so radically different from what they had planned, all they could do for the moment was think minute to minute. It would be some time before they could consider the future, or before they wanted to.