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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Hogan stood in the doorway to his quarters for the first time in over two months, and was unexpectedly overwhelmed by the sight. Everything was as he remembered it, and he had spent a lot of time remembering it while he was sleeping on a rickety cot in the cooler. The lumpy, worn mattresses covered his hard, uncomfortable bunk slats. The scratchy, thin blankets had been neatly spread over them, and his books were all neatly arranged on the shelf near the upper bunk.

Hogan looked over at the desk. His pencils were all sharp, sticking out of the now-rusting tin can that had been fashioned into a holder. Some papers were stacked precisely on the side, and a cup of steaming coffee was sitting in the middle.

Hesitantly, almost warily, Hogan ventured into the room. He fingered the clean, pressed dress shirt that someone had draped over the upper bunk post, and his eyes were drawn to the book that had been placed near the head of the lower bunk. Hogan picked up the book thoughtfully. Do not be afraid... His lips curved into a soft smile, and he started flipping pensively through the pages. You shall lift up your face toward God. You shall entreat him and he will hear you.... He nodded and continued, finding the book fell open to those passages he had apparently turned to again and again. I rock with grief, and am troubled at the voice of the enemy and the clamor of the wicked.... Fear and trembling come upon me, and horror overwhelms me, And I say, "Had I but wings like a dove, I would fly away and be at rest...."

Hogan closed his eyes and pictured the scene in his mind. Yes. Yes, he would fly away if he could. For a moment he was at peace. But he knew he couldn't leave, not now. And so he opened his eyes with a sigh, and walked over to his desk, putting the book down gently and picking up the coffee with his left hand. He took a sip and tried to get comfortable in his old surroundings.

A quiet knock on the open door pulled him out of his thoughts. "Colonel?"

Hogan looked up to see Le Beau peering in. "Come on in, Louis."

"Welcome back, Colonel," Le Beau said, coming to his side.

"Thanks." Hogan raised his cup slightly. "From you?"

"Oui, Colonel. So you feel more at home."

Hogan nodded. "Thanks," he said again. He looked around him. "Never thought I'd be happy to see this garbage can again."

"You have not been in the nicest places."

"This isn't exactly the Hotel Berlin," Hogan responded. He put down his cup and walked over to the window, opening it wide. "But at least it has a window."

Le Beau watched as his commanding officer brought himself back into the role he was meant to have. As far as Louis was concerned, there had never been a question of anyone but Hogan being in charge. If there was no Hogan, there was no operation. And though he was dedicated to the cause they had all been fighting for, if it came down to a choice between the operation and Hogan, Hogan would win hands down. "It has not been the same up here without you."

"It's been pretty ornery where I was, too," Hogan agreed. He continued to stare outside at the other buildings, at the barbed wire fences, at the stark sunlight.

"So what happens now, Colonel?" Hogan didn't answer. Le Beau furrowed his brow. "Colonel?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry," Hogan said, turning away from the window. "Eichberger says he wants to see me this afternoon. He says he's got the perfect way to prove what he says."

"Do you think he really is Black Forest, Colonel?"

"I have no doubt at all," Hogan replied. "What I have questions about is his loyalty to the Allies. I'm not quite satisfied yet. But I'm not sure what will make me happy, either. I'll just have to play it by ear."

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"You wanted to see me?" Hogan asked as he came into the office.

Eichberger looked up from his paperwork and gestured toward the chair before him. "Yes, yes, please, sit down, Colonel Hogan."

"I prefer to stand," Hogan answered.

Eichberger sighed. "Suit yourself." He laid his hands purposefully on the desk. "I need to know what reservations you have about me, Colonel. I need to know how I can allay your fears that I am working for the Nazis."

"Well, for starters you could recite the Pledge of Allegiance," Hogan replied.

Eichberger laughed softly. "A spy would not hesitate to swear an oath to a country he despised. I think you are toying with me."

"I never joke about my country."

"What about if I told you everything I know? Would that help?"

Hogan said nothing.

"I understand." Eichberger stood up and started pacing to help him think. "Allied Headquarters in London is running an operation out of Stalag 13, run by the former commander of the 504th Bomber Squadron, a certain Robert Hogan, Colonel, shot down about three years ago over Hamburg. Through a combination of good luck and hard work, Hogan and his men have been able to help hundreds of Allied prisoners to escape and get back to England, as well as completing countless sabotage missions in the area, making this one of the most ineffective areas of the war for the Germans in terms of production and transport. This Colonel Robert Hogan's code name is Papa Bear. His lair is a network of tunnels operating under the camp and leading out into the woods, with a small, core group of men inside the camp, and a large number of Underground agents outside the camp, to help him." Eichberger stopped to look at Hogan, who was following him with his eyes but remaining as expressionless as possible. "Since this Papa Bear's recent arrest, escape, and resulting recapture—and I'm not quite sure yet that that last bit was not deliberate, by the way—the number of unexplained acts of sabotage has dropped considerably, with the exception of a handful of minor disasters that seem to have been randomly and occasionally inexpertly handled."

Eichberger arrived back at his desk and faced Hogan head-on. "How am I doing so far?"

Hogan's expression gave nothing away. "Keep talking. This is interesting."

"I shall tell you another story," Eichberger continued. "There once was a man named Franz Eichberger. He was living in England, and he was terribly unhappy about the changes in his ancestral homeland through the 1930s. He was quite anxious to start working for the Allied cause, and thanks to some family connections had no problem infiltrating German military intelligence. He was a very strong man, a very determined man. He passed on information as required to Allied Headquarters back in London, and watched the exploits of the great Papa Bear with tremendous interest. He was thrilled when he was given his own code name: Black Forest. But then he was close to being discovered where he was, and he had to re-invent himself. So he pulled some strings and joined the Luftwaffe, determined to move closer and closer to this Papa Bear, to see if there was anything he could do to be part of his operation. You can imagine his surprise when he learned that the chance to become Kommandant of this camp arose. He immediately expressed his interest in this position, and set to work at once at gaining Papa Bear's trust, so he could help this extraordinary man out of what was obviously a difficult situation."

"That's very noble," Hogan observed. "Why did he drop out of sight of London?"

"Fear of being exposed. He came close more than once. In the end he decided that in order to protect those for whom he was working, he would simply blend in for awhile. But then the chance to make a real difference was too overwhelming, and he had to help Papa Bear," Eichberger finished, his voice dropping, "or risk becoming the traitor he was pretending to be." Hogan remained stoic. "My main contact in London has been Open Book." Eichberger started to look desperate. "Colonel, what else can I say?"

Hogan said nothing for a moment, taking everything in. Finally, he said, "Okay, I'll trust you. You've got the right guy." He sat down, and Eichberger did the same, eagerly leaning forward in his chair. "What do you think you can do?"

Eichberger spread his hands to take in the room. "Why, Colonel, from this position, we can do anything. Unlike when Klink was here, I can work with you; this camp can become the main hub of intelligence and sabotage activity, and a haven for prisoners, instead of a place to fear."

Hogan nodded briefly. "You're certainly ambitious."

"And why not—this is what we have dreamed of, yes? I cannot tell you enough what a privilege it is to work with you, Colonel Hogan. Your work is very highly respected back in London. And even amongst the Germans."

Hogan raised an eyebrow.

"They have watched you with great interest. But they have not been able to get any solid evidence against you. Surely you know they have been after you for years," Eichberger explained.

Hogan briefly raised his right hand and rubbed it gently. "I've gotten the picture, yeah."

Eichberger made a face of discomfort when he looked at the still bandaged, still discolored fingers. "The medic—he has fixed your hand?"

Hogan shrugged. "The best he can. Time will tell." He lowered his hand back into his lap. "London didn't send you here," he said calmly.

"No," Eichberger admitted. "No, they didn't." He shook his head. "They sent me to Germany, but coming to Stalag 13 was my idea. I told you they had because I thought you needed to be assured that I was a friend."

"Don't lie to me, Eichberger. Ever. That's a sure ticket out of my good books."

"I won't—I assure you, Colonel Hogan, it was meant for good. To show you my sincerity."

"Well, you got caught in the lie, and it nearly kept you out of the picture. If anyone's going to be telling tall tales around here, it's me, or you under my command. Got it?"

"Got it."

Hogan nodded. "Okay." His mind started ticking, and he started formulating plans for the first time in weeks. "We've got to get back on track."

"There is news of a convoy passing near this camp in a few days. Ammunition and fuel heading east. I can get full details. You—we can be back in business in no time."

"Okay," Hogan said. "Let me know what you find out." He stood up. "Meanwhile, if you don't mind, I'm going to have a shower, Kommandant."

Eichberger nodded once, as a small smile tugged at the edges of his lips. "Certainly. You may even take enough hot water for a shave."

Hogan raised his right hand again. "I'm afraid that's still someone else's job for awhile. But I'll take the hot water anyway. Meanwhile, I'd appreciate it if you could ask the Red Cross for some new shirts for me. I seem to have lost a couple in the last two months."

"By all means," Eichberger answered. "Hogan, were your men responsible for those acts of sabotage after you were arrested?"

Hogan stayed expressionless. "How would I know?" he asked evenly.

Eichberger smiled knowingly but allowed the response to pass. Hogan turned to go. "Oh, Colonel Hogan—" Hogan turned back toward him. "There's just one more thing I'm curious about."

"What's that?" Hogan asked.

"Colonel Klink. What actually became of him?"

Hogan considered, then replied, "I haven't the faintest idea."