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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The men of Barracks Two stood uneasily outside their hut as the German officer paced slowly back and forth in front of them. Schultz had called them to formation awhile ago, and so far this new man to the camp had said not a word to them, choosing instead to study them as though watching lab rats in a cage.

Newkirk shifted restlessly. "Blimey, Schultz, it's cold out here. When are you going to let us go? At least at exercise period we can move around to keep warm."

At the sound of Newkirk's voice, Eichberger stopped pacing and faced him. "You are cold, Englander?" he asked.

Le Beau felt a shiver run down his spine, not from the weather, but from the ice in Eichberger's voice.

Newkirk shrugged, suddenly uncertain. "Well, sir, it's not that I'm complaining, you see, it's just that the cold dries out my skin," he said, half jokingly.

"You are speaking in formation," Eichberger answered. "That is verboten. You will spend three days in the cooler for this infraction of the rules. And if you think it is cold outside, it will seem like we are in the tropics by the time you get out of there."

Newkirk made to protest. Eichberger held up his hand. "You would do well to learn your lesson the first time, Englander. Otherwise you may find yourself with dry skin—permanently." He turned to Schultz. "Sergeant, you will take him now."

"Jawohl, Herr Captain." Schultz approached Newkirk with regret in his face. "Come, Newkirk, I have to take you to the cooler."

Newkirk mumbled, "It's okay, Schultz, I know it's not your fault." He passed Eichberger, not trying to hide his contempt, and glanced fleetingly back at his comrades. "See you in three, fellas."

The others nodded, trying to look encouraging without saying anything to irritate the new Kommandant. Eichberger turned to the others. "As for the rest of you," he said, "I will trust that you are smart enough not to follow the example set for you by the Englander. Any further infractions of the rules will be treated even more harshly, now that one of your own pigs has been put in a private pen." Eichberger laughed at his own joke.

Burkhalter turned to him. "These men used to share their barracks with Colonel Hogan. You will probably find them to be the most disruptive of the men here, since he had close relationships with many of them."

"Yes?" Eichberger replied, his eyes showing a new interest as he studied his charges. He turned and walked the line again, staring even more closely at the group. It did not escape his notice that the sullen eyes staring back at him were often brimming with ill-concealed hatred, but it did not bother him, and he looked back, letting a thin smile cross his lips. "A sloppy bunch of tin soldiers," he proclaimed. "Hardly the cream of any crop. Now that these sheep are without a shepherd, they will be no trouble for me, General Burkhalter. Of that I can assure you. Look at this one!" he said, pulling Le Beau out of line.

The Frenchman tried to pull away, but Eichberger had him by the scarf, and struggling was only making it tighter around his neck. "This is hardly a danger to the Third Reich. Oh, maybe to some farmer's imbecile daughter, perhaps, but not to our fine military machine."

Le Beau's anger brought strong color into his cheeks as Eichberger spoke. He said nothing but continued to pull back at his scarf until the German released it with a laugh, sending Le Beau sprawling toward the other prisoners. "Boche," Le Beau spat under his breath.

The word didn't escape Eichberger, and he whirled back toward the assembly. "Say it again, pig," he hissed at Le Beau, towering over him, crowding him so he could not move.

Le Beau stared back, the anger in his eyes shooting flames toward his antagonist. "I said you are a—"

"Louis!" cried Kinch, grabbing him by the arm before he could finish.

Eichberger laughed again. "Yes, you little piglet—listen to your black Mutterschwein." Kinch shook with rage but he knew better than to speak now. Eichberger smiled benignly. "Perhaps you will learn in time that I am not to be toyed with. You may have been protected by your precious Colonel Hogan, and coddled by Kommandant Klink, but you will not find that with me. The sooner you learn that lesson, the better for you. But feel free to take your time; I am quite happy to continue teaching you if you refuse to study." He turned to another guard standing nearby. "Dismiss these things; get them out of my sight."

"Jawohl, Herr Captain."

The men broke formation and headed back to the relative warmth of the barracks, feeling more like real prisoners of war than ever before.

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Hogan was just waking up, and feeling just as tired as when he had fallen asleep, when he heard footsteps approaching from the other end of the tunnel. He sat up to see Klink making his way tentatively toward him. "Hogan?"

Hogan nodded. "Kommandant," he said in reply.

Klink stopped and looked around him, taking in the desk, the radio equipment, the oil lamps, the ladder. He shook his head, as though dazed. "So it's true..." he breathed. "You really do have a..."

"An operation running down here? Well, we did have, at least until your pals in Berlin started getting exclusive about what officers they let into their little Stalag country clubs." Hogan nodded toward the desk chair. "Have a seat."

Klink went toward the chair, but was distracted by the radio. He followed a wire up the wall until it disappeared into the ceiling. "Where does this go?" he asked, pointing to it.

"To your office," Hogan answered. Klink's face took on a look of astonishment. "We needed an antenna, so we've got one in the flagpole. Ever wonder why we don't mind when you raise that hideous Nazi flag of yours?"

Klink opened his mouth to respond, then decided against it. "Hogan, what is all this?" he asked.

"I told you—sabotage and intelligence. A traveler's aid society for escaped prisoners and downed flyers. Anything London wants us to do."

"I do not understand how it is possible," Klink said, still disbelieving. "Where does this ladder go?"

"Up to the barracks."

"Your barracks?" Klink breathed in wonderment.

"That's right."

Klink grabbed the chair and sat down in it before he fell down. "So Hochstetter was right," he said. "I have been a fool."

Hogan was too tired to argue. "Maybe you just didn't want to see," he said.

"Then I was a fool and a traitor," Klink said bitterly. "Are all the prisoners part of this?"

"Not all of them; we only tell people what they need to know. The rule when they come in is No Escapes. If they want to try it, I organize a transfer and they're on their way—from someplace else."

"No escapes? Why?"

Hogan paused, knowing how this would sound to the proud German. "If we lost you, you might be replaced with someone I'd have less... influence... over. And then we'd have a bigger chance of having to shut down. With you in place we knew we could accomplish what we needed to."

"In other words, with an ineffectual man behind the desk you could run circles around the Germans."

"We're saving lives," Hogan said, starting to feel a prick of anger. "We're ending the war sooner."

"For the Allies," Klink accused.

"Of course for the Allies," Hogan snapped, irritable. "Do you honestly think a nut case like Hitler could fairly run the country, much less the world?"

Klink's first instinct was to stand up for the leader of his Fatherland. But as thoughts raced through his head, he swallowed the patriotism. "No," he whispered. "No, Hogan, I do not."

"Look what he's doing now—ordering the deaths of hundreds of men just because they have rank. What would stop him from ordering the massacre of thousands, or even millions, of others because of something they have no control over?"

Klink nodded. "You are right, Hogan. But it is my duty to defend my country. I love Germany."

"Then help it. Help get it away from this idiot."

"How?" Klink asked.

Hogan paused. "You have information the Allies need, Kommandant. Take the trip back to England willingly."

"You have said this before, Hogan—but I do not know of any such information that would help the Allies." Klink paused. "Nor do I know that I want to."

Hogan understood, but he stood his ground. "You won't have much choice in the end. We're going to get you to England, and you're going to give us what we need. Your cooperation would be wonderful, but it's not essential."

"And how are you going to do that?" Klink asked, a hint of accusation in his voice.

Hogan sighed. He'd had enough. "I'm not sure yet," he admitted. If Klink had not been so wrapped up in his own emotions, he would have noticed that Hogan was also being overwhelmed by his. The American shook his head wearily. "That's going to depend on Major Hochstetter, and on your replacement. And since I seem to be striking out lately, I'm not about to place any bets on what either of them is capable of."

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Le Beau whipped off his scarf and threw it on his bunk like it was contaminated. Carter approached him with soft steps and said quietly, "I'm sorry about what happened outside, Louis. Are you all right?"

Le Beau's face remained tight with anger, but he turned to his friend with words that he tried to keep civil. "Oui. Merci, mon ami." He looked at Kinch, who was fuming near the stove, gripping a cup so tightly that Le Beau could have sworn he saw the Sergeant's knuckles go white. "Merci, Kinch, for stepping in."

Kinch poured coffee into the cup with short, angry motions, causing some to spill over the rim and onto the floor. He didn't take notice. "I wish I didn't have to, Louis. I would have loved for you to do exactly what you were thinking." He stared at the bunk behind Le Beau, where he knew below their commanding officer was trapped. The anger whispered in his ears and tempted him to do irrational things, but he fought it down with the thought of Hogan's cool temperament under pressure. "But all it would have done was get you the same as Newkirk—or worse."

"Poor Peter," Carter said. "Stuck in the cooler for three days! Gee, Klink never did that when we spoke up."

"Klink isn't Eichberger. And there's no Colonel Hogan to intervene on our behalf, now, is there?" Kinch reminded him.

"No. Gee, I guess I didn't realize how much we depended on the Colonel to keep us out of trouble."

"I think that's something we'd better remember while we feel out Eichberger in the next few days," Le Beau declared. He tossed his beret on the bunk and moved toward the stove. "In the meantime I will make Newkirk something special to eat while he is down there, and the Colonel, too."

"What about us?" Carter asked.

"Why not? We all deserve something special for putting up with these filthy Boche. I will make a gourmet meal for all of us." And when I am mashing the potatoes, I will be thinking of that Captain Eichberger's head.

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A blond, pigtailed head peeped through the office door. "Herr General, Berlin is on the phone."

Burkhalter looked up from the paperwork he and Eichberger were perusing and smiled at the pretty blond secretary. "Thank you, Hilda. Put it through."

Hilda nodded and disappeared, and in a moment the phone at the desk rang. Burkhalter picked it up. "Burkhalter here." He paused, listening. Eichberger watched him carefully, not bothering to hide his study. "Ja, Reischmarshal. Are you sure?" Another pause. Burkhalter was starting to frown. "Of course, sir. No that changes nothing here at the moment. But I will pass on the information at once. Danke. Heil Hitler."

Burkhalter hung up the receiver and turned to Eichberger. "As I suspected. Only I wish the change of heart had come before this whole mess started." Eichberger tilted his head expectantly. "The Fuhrer's order to execute enemy officers has been rescinded."