No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.
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Silent as a cat, Kinch tightened the tool around the bar on the outside window to the cell in the cooler. Twisting it slightly, he listened for the scraping sound that indicated it was loosening, and then he continued, testing it every now and then with his fingers.
Inside the cell, Klink was lying, disconsolate, on the pallet that served as his bed. A far cry from my nice, warm quarters, he thought, full of self pity. Then he drew himself up, mentally, and told himself that he had certainly encountered worse sleeping quarters—like in the middle of a World War One bunker. He huffed a derisive laugh—at least there, he had a chance of escaping with his life. Here, he knew, there was little hope of avoiding being shot.
A scratching noise broke his reverie, and he sat up immediately, listening. Please, don't let there be any rats, he thought, shuddering. The guard in the hallway called, "Lights out, Kommandant," in an almost regretful voice, and suddenly the room was dark aside from a patch of moonlight, and footsteps faded in the distance. Klink pulled his feet up onto the bunk, listening to the continuing light scraping noise somewhere nearby.
Suddenly the sound became distinctly louder. Metal on concrete. Klink frowned, wondering about the source of the noise. Another scrape, and then a long pause. Light from the guard tower splashed through the cell, then disappeared, and the noise began again. "Who is that?" Klink asked sharply, starting to feel frightened.
"Sh!" came a voice, equally sharp. But no answer followed the reproach.
Another noise from the side of the cell caused Klink to jump. A louder, heavier sound that seemed labored and close to the ground. Klink hugged his knees, unable to decide what to do. In spite of himself, he tried desperately to see what was going on around him. But the night was conspiring against him as a cloud passed over the moon, leaving the cell in complete darkness.
Klink gave a start as he realized there was now another person in the cell. He tried to see who it was, but a very dim light emanating from the side wall was not bright enough to help. Trying to sound confident, Klink said, "Who are you?" When no answer came, he called loudly, "Guard! Guaaaaaard!"
"Blimey, Kommandant, you're going to have to learn to keep your mouth shut!"
Klink was sure he recognized the voice. But he didn't get a chance to contemplate the issue, because someone struck him from behind, sending his monocle flying and plunging his already dark world into blackness.
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Le Beau watched as Kinch waved madly across the compound. He abruptly stopped feeding the dogs, who sat, tails wagging expectantly, not at all concerned with the business of the camp. Then he retreated to the safety of the tunnel entrance, where, still holding the kennel above his head, he started to softly and expertly meow.
The din that followed was deafening and insistent. Le Beau disappeared back down the tunnel.
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Carter's binoculars had stayed focused on the dog pen from the moment he had made it to his target area. Now, he watched as Le Beau vanished from sight and the dogs started barking like mad. Smiling eagerly, Carter started fishing through the equipment he had removed from his pack, and pulled out a lighter, lit one of the smoke bombs he had brought with him, and tossed the device into the clearing before doing the same with several others and taking off back toward Stalag 13.
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"What is going on here?" Burkhalter called as he stumbled out of the VIP quarters, pulling on his coat and trying to see across the compound. There were dogs barking, sirens wailing, and guards running to and fro in a less than organized fashion.
He was met by Hochstetter who, fully dressed, was charging toward him. "General Burkhalter, it seems that Colonel Klink has escaped!"
"Escaped?" echoed Burkhalter. "How?"
"The bars on his window have been cut." He shook his head. "But they are too small; someone must have helped get him a key to the cell from there." He pointed toward the fence near the dog pen. "I imagine he went that way, as the dogs got riled up quite suddenly, and—"
"Look! Over there!" Burkhalter shouted, pointing past the fence and into the trees. Heavy smoke was billowing into the sky and forming a great cloud that slowly wafted toward the camp.
"He has started a forest fire!" Hochstetter yelled.
"Get some of the guards to go out and fight that fire before it takes over this camp, Hochstetter! The rest of them will have to search the area for Klink!"
Hochstetter raged on as he followed the General's orders. Meanwhile, he scanned the passing men for Sergeant Schultz, now even less convinced that the guard had nothing to do with Hogan's disappearance, now that his commanding officer had also mysteriously vanished right before his trial. He would have to deal with the incompetent fool when this wild night was under control.
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"Mission accomplished, sir," Newkirk reported to Hogan, as the American struggled to push his grogginess away. How long had he been asleep?
"Good. Where is he?" Hogan asked.
"Still at the other end of the tunnel, sir."
"Okay. Well, don't let him down this end yet. We're going to need to break this to him gently. What does he think is going on?"
"Well... nothing yet, gov'nor. He's still unconscious."
"Unconscious?" Hogan repeated loudly, then winced at the impact that had on his head. "Newkirk, what did you do?"
"Sorry, Colonel, but he was starting to shout for the guard, and we would have been caught dead to rights."
Hogan nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand gently. "You did the right thing," he admitted, grimacing. "Everyone else okay?"
"Oui, Colonel," came the voice of Le Beau. He appeared from another tunnel that spilled back toward this main passageway. "I saw Kinch sneak back this way before the alarms went off. And Carter is on his way."
"Hey, fellas, did you see that?" As if on cue, Carter's voice boomed through the underground area, and he showed up only seconds later, practically bursting with pride and unexpended energy. "I watched until I saw Louis go back down into the tunnel, and then I heard the dogs going crazy—you know, really barking up a storm, like they'd seen a real cat or something—and then I set those smoke bombs off all over the place! The Germans are going to go nuts trying to fight a fire that isn't there!" he said.
Hogan nodded tiredly. "What's going on upstairs?"
"The whole area's lousy with Krauts," Le Beau reported. "I saw Burkhalter trying to pull on his boots while he was screaming at Hochstetter about not being able to keep hold of anyone in the cooler here. The two of them are trying to organize a search for Klink."
Kinch appeared from the barracks. "Thanks to your idea of cutting through the bars, Colonel, Hochstetter is sure Klink took a more orthodox route out of the cell and is heading out to the woods somewhere."
"Did you cut the barbed wire on that side of the perimeter?"
"Yes, sir; right near the guard tower."
"Good; that'll take the heat off the prisoners for awhile." Hogan said. He tried to pretend he didn't see Wilson watching him for the signs of fatigue Hogan was trying to hide.
"Krauts are yelling for roll call!" a voice from above warned suddenly.
"You'd better go; they're probably looking for accomplices. Hurry up and get back in position. I'll look after Klink myself." Wilson gave a start of protest, but Hogan silenced him before he began, holding up a hand. "No one will miss me at roll call," he said. "But they're bound to notice if these four aren't there. And we can't leave Klink on his own."
Wilson nodded, defeated by Hogan's logic. Promising a swift return, the men scurried to change and get outside. Slowly, and with considerable discomfort, Hogan eased himself out of the cot. Wilson supported Hogan as he swayed unsteadily on his feet; then Hogan pulled away. "They'd miss you, too, Joe. I'd better do this on my own," he said. Wilson looked unconvinced. "Considering what he tried to do for me, the least I can do is explain."
"Well at least do me a favor—explain while you're sitting down. You're weak as a kitten, and you still have a fever. I don't need to have you deteriorate on me."
"You have my word," Hogan promised. "If I'm not standing up I'll be sitting down."
"That's very comforting," Wilson quipped. He shook his head as he watched Hogan drape his bomber jacket over his shoulders tenderly, perch his crush cap cockily on his head, and stumble with clear frailty down the tunnel to his new companion in exile.