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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"Herr Captain, all prisoners are present and accounted for."

It was a very different group of men facing the Kommandant of Stalag 13 for roll call the next morning. Though there was nothing visible to tip Eichberger off to the fact, these men were now a determined and resolute unit, who vowed to put up with anything to accomplish their goal of getting Hogan to safety as soon as possible. And that meant making Eichberger as friendly as they could.

"Very good." Eichberger looked at the assembled group before him with the eye of a man who knew his place—above anyone else. And in truth, in this camp, he was the top of the heap. Burkhalter had left late last night, so Stalag 13 was now his. He would not waste the opportunities being in charge of this prison presented. "This morning, I had a look around this compound and observed that it is looking a bit... disorderly, shall we say? I will take volunteers to do a clean up duty that includes trash disposal, some painting, and some carrying."

Hogan's men looked at each other, all thinking the same thing. This was one of those times when Hogan would normally speak up and bargain with Klink for some privileges in exchange for the manpower. But Hogan wasn't here, and they had a job to do. Carter stepped forward tentatively. "Captain, I volunteer to help."

Eichberger looked with interest at the Sergeant. "Yes?" he said.

Kinch squeezed out from the back of the line. "Me, too," he added.

A small smile tugged at the sides of Eichberger's mouth. His eyes scanned the group, waiting.

"Yeah, I guess I could use the exercise," came Olsen's voice, as he, too, pulled away from the rest.

"Well, I haven't had much of that either," Newkirk piped up, and he stood beside Olsen, hands in his pockets.

Eichberger smiled at Newkirk's offer to help. This was one who may have learned his lesson quickly. Standing there with his head lowered and his eyes studying his shoes, Newkirk looked like Eichberger wanted every prisoner to look: obedient, resigned, and hopeless. "Very good, gentlemen," he said. "I offer no reward or special privilege for this work. But as you will come to see, I can be a very reasonable man to work with. You have no commanding officer of your own to liaise with me at present, but in the meanwhile, you may have no fear of approaching me. I simply ask the respect that is due to members of the master race—the people who have, after all, conquered at least yourselves." He waited for his words to sink in.

And they did. Every man in the lineup was feeling a tension that came with nearly unbearable anger, but, thinking of Hogan in the tunnels below, they kept their emotions under control and swallowed the bitterness that burned in their throats. "We don't need a reward, sir," Carter said shakily. "We always like to have the camp looking nice. Colonel Hogan always said it's our home and we have to take care of it."

Eichberger nodded smoothly, just once, in deference to this unseen Colonel Hogan, whose influence on these men seemed phenomenal. "It sounds like your Colonel Hogan was a sensible man," he allowed. He smirked. "It's a shame he's not here now to see you looking after your surroundings," he said. He again waited for his words to impact on the men, and though he could see the changes as they physically shifted to bear the increasing tension they were feeling, he was surprised they did not speak out. "If he had only waited before escaping from this camp, he would have been able to see you cowering, broken men doing the menial jobs that are your lot. I have no doubt that the Gestapo would have grown tired of their fun with him, and let him return to you. After all, even the Fuhrer had changed his mind about the Colonel's future."

"Changed his mind, sir?" Kinch dared.

Eichberger turned to face him. For a moment Kinch thought he had pushed his luck, and that he would suffer some unreasonable punishment for asking a question. But the Captain simply smiled benignly before answering. "That's right, Sergeant. Our Esteemed Leader decided that it would be too disruptive to the prison camps to execute the officers. So he commanded that the practice be stopped."

How many men had already been killed by the time he decided that? Le Beau thought indignantly. And how fast would we have lost Colonel Hogan if Hochstetter had not been the imbecile they sent to follow through the order? "Pardonnez-moi, Captain. Are you saying that if the Colonel had not already been shot, he would have been let go?"

"From that foolish Major Hochstetter, perhaps. But not from Stalag 13." He smiled at Le Beau as if dealing with a somewhat dimwitted child. Le Beau cooked under his clothing but remained silent. "Yes, your Colonel Hogan might have been right here beside you, perhaps even joining you in your work."

You make it sound like that would have been demeaning for him. Well, I've got news for you, buddy, the Colonel was never above working right along side us when he needed to, officer or not. Kinch cleared his throat. "Sir, when would you like us to start?"

Eichberger continued smiling broadly, something that was disturbing to the men, who had become used to his short temper when dealing with them. "After breakfast. You must not work on an empty stomach. Report to Sergeant Schultz at oh-eight-hundred. You are dismissed."

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"Schultzie, is it true that ol' Scramble Brains changed his mind about shooting all the officers?" Newkirk asked later that morning. He grunted as he picked up a box in the supply hut and moved it to another area so he could sweep underneath.

Schultz moved deftly out of Newkirk's way but did nothing to help as the Englishman struggled with the heavy carton. But then, his mind was on so many other things that he barely noticed the man standing next to him. "Ja, Newkirk, I think so," he answered. Schultz yawned. The last few days had given him little opportunity for sleep, with worry over Hogan, Klink, and his own future playing on his mind. "They have not told me, but I heard General Burkhalter talking with the Captain before he left. They did not know I could hear."

Newkirk dropped the crate heavily on the floor and picked up the broom. "Nice of the old man to bring it to our attention like that," he said. "Now that the Colonel's gone and all."

Schultz nodded. As much as he missed Colonel Hogan, his mind was still uppermost on his own commander, Colonel Klink. "I worry about the Kommandant," he said.

Newkirk paused in his sweeping. "I know you do, Schultzie," he said, biting his tongue. "He wasn't a bad Kraut compared with some of the others around here."

Schultz nodded. "I know that he and Colonel Hogan did not always get along, but Kommandant Klink always tried his best to keep things peaceful around here."

Newkirk nodded. "You can say that for him," he agreed. "Ol' Klink was never much for controversy—too much of a chance to get sent to the Russian front!" Schultz nodded and swallowed hard. Newkirk watched him with some pity, then said, "He showed a lot of guts in the end, Schultz. Trying to help Colonel Hogan like that was the most amazing thing I think he ever did."

"And he paid for it," Schultz said, with only a trace of bitterness. "We were warned what happens when we help the Allies, and he paid for it."

Newkirk was taken aback by the anger lacing the guard's voice. Schultz had never been a man to express any enmity towards the prisoners. But today his voice had an edge to it that was unmistakable. "He followed his conscience, Schultz. He did the humane thing."

Schultz snorted derisively. "The Fuhrer is not interested in the humane thing," he replied. "If he was, he would not have ordered officers to be shot in the first place." He moved toward the door. "And then changed his mind, so the deaths of all those who were already killed would seem like an even bigger tragedy." He sighed heavily. "Finish with those boxes, Englander, without taking anything as a souvenir, if you can. After that, you can go. I will tell Captain Eichberger that you have done everything that he requested."

Newkirk watched Schultz carefully as he walked out the door, stooped like he was holding the weight of the world on his shoulders.

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"What is it about me that makes me so invaluable to you, Hogan?" asked Klink. The question had been playing heavily on his mind since Hogan had first mentioned it. Everything he had encountered in the last few days had been mind-boggling—a tunnel network under the camp, radios, intelligence, sabotage. A neat, tightly run operation functioning smoothly right under his nose. And a No Escape policy that destroyed any shred of pride Klink had tried to retain as Kommandant of Stalag 13; there was no doubt to him now that the camp was really under the control of Colonel Hogan—of Papa Bear. Klink had only been a puppet, a paper doll dressed up and used for purposes that he had not even guessed at.

Hogan had played him for a fool, no matter how the American tried to cushion the blow.

And Klink had spent hours contemplating the fact that Hogan had, indeed, tried to make the destruction of the German's perception of reality as painless as possible. Hogan had spoken of Klink's humane running of the camp, of the relatively painless life that the men had lived under Klink's command, when there was rumor of unconscionable treatment at other Stalags. He had told Klink that more than once the operation had survived only due to the unwitting intervention of Klink, when the Kommandant was trying to do the right thing in the face of what was clearly the wrong thing. That Hogan himself had much to thank Klink for—not all men would risk their own lives to warn an enemy of danger. That Klink stood as more than a mere propaganda sheet for the Third Reich; in the end, he wanted Germany to win the war with honor, and he had proven that by his actions.

Klink wanted to take comfort in Hogan's words. He wanted to believe that it might make some difference when—not if, Klink was beginning to believe, but when—Hogan managed to get him out the country and into the hands of the Allies in England.

But he couldn't. Klink would have to leave his beloved Germany. His mother and brother would worry about what happened to him until he was secure in a prison camp himself—as a prisoner, not the Kommandant, he thought with some irony—and able to write a letter home to explain what had happened. If he was allowed to. Nothing Hogan could say to him now would change that.

But this idea that the Allies found Klink to be so important both soothed his shattered ego, and intrigued him. Nothing Klink had ever been told indicated that he was anything special. How ironic, thought Klink, that it is only in being taken by the enemy that one is shown his worth.

"You're not invaluable to me," Hogan answered, putting down the book that he had started reading four times that day. But, as in the other three attempts, he had been unable to get past the first ten pages; his mind was too busy with other things to be able to concentrate on all the elements of a story outside of his current reality. "But you've sure got something Headquarters wants."

Klink came to stand before Hogan at his bunk. "And what is that, Colonel?"

Hogan sighed. He knew that this, among other things, would be of concern to Klink. And while he didn't want to tell him, Hogan caved in. "I shouldn't tell you—" He watched as Klink's face changed, increasing in anxiety as it had over the last few days; "—but I guess I owe you at least that much in exchange for what you tried to do for me."

Klink seemed to brace himself for an impact. Hogan gestured for him to grab a chair and sit down. "You have a list, Colonel," Hogan began, when Klink seemed settled in. "A list of all the people who the Nazis will round up if anything happens to Hitler and his band of Merry Men."

"People?"

"Suspects. People Berlin thinks are connected to Allied war efforts. They're out there and operating now because the Germans are hoping to follow a trail right into the heart of Allied operations. But if anything happens, the people on that list will be the first ones they nab. These people are sitting in a rabbit trap—and the door could slam shut at any time. We need to know who's on that list, so we can warn them, and possibly get them out now, before it's too late."

Klink shook his head, bewildered. "I have no such list," he said.

"You do, but you don't know about it. It's locked away in your brain." Klink stared blankly at the American. "At some stage you were hypnotized, and the list was embedded in your subconscious. You have to be put under again to get to the names."

Klink scoffed. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, Colonel," Klink said. "Why would someone entrust me with this list, then station me way out here at a Luft Stalag?"

"You're safer that way, aren't you? Who's going to look for a list like that with a prison warden?" Klink shifted uncomfortably at the job description. He had always thought of his work as nobler than that. But somewhere inside he realized Hogan was simply making a point, and refused to take offense. "They plant this in your brain, don't tell you so you can't blab it to anyone by mistake, then ship you off to a nice, safe, out-of-the-way place where they can keep tabs on you until the time is right. A perfect plan."

Klink nodded slowly. He hated to admit it, but Hogan was right. It was a perfect plan. A perfect secret. And once again, Klink thought ruefully, he had been a perfect dupe.

Hogan noticed Klink's reaction and added softly, "I know this has all come as a bit of a shock to you." Hogan looked down. "I'm sorry to have to be the one to explain it all. But we only did what we had to do. I never manipulated you just for fun, Kommandant, and that's the truth. I was doing my job."

"I can't help but feel that I have been a fool for the past three years, Hogan. Hochstetter could see what was happening, but I couldn't. Maybe I didn't want to."

"Maybe you didn't." Hogan replied. He had no answers for the Kommandant. "Let's have a game of chess," he said, abruptly changing the subject.

"What?"

"Chess—let's have a game. I usually play with Kinch down here when he's stuck on the radio, but you're not a bad player, either, so what do you say?"

"'Not a bad player'?" Klink repeated. "I'll remind you that I am victorious almost every time we play, Colonel Hogan."

"You may find I'm a different player now that I have nothing to lose by knocking your socks off, Kommandant."

"Bring it on, Hogan. Bring it on."

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Le Beau brought lunch downstairs to the refugees along with the daily camp gossip. He could not help but mention the apparent change in Eichberger's treatment of the prisoners, and his announcement that Hitler's order to execute officers in prison camps had been withdrawn.

Hogan leapt on this information. "Are you sure? Is this confirmed, Louis?" he asked.

Le Beau shrugged. "Schultz said he heard Burkhalter and Eichberger talking about it."

Klink winced at hearing the men discuss these officers without the use of their rank. But he said nothing, too fascinated with the talk to be upset by semantics. "How did Eichberger seem to feel about this?"

Le Beau considered. "He said if the Fuhrer had changed his mind while you were still in camp, then Hochstetter should have released you back to the camp."

"No bloodthirsty Kraut waiting to slit my throat on principle?"

"It did not seem so, Colonel."

"Louis, tell Kinch I want him to get on the horn and see if he can confirm that the execution order's been withdrawn; it might just be a trick to expose us. Then I want you fellas to keep at Eichberger; see what you can find out about how he feels about that retraction, and whether he'll honor it."

"Oui, Colonel. And if it all checks out?"

Hogan's eyes took on a gleam for the first time in weeks. "Louis, I'm getting tired of this tunnel. I want to go back to my nice, drafty office. And what better way than for me to walk right back in through the front gate?"