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

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"Well, Herr Schoendorfer, I'm sure you will enjoy the wine and the company here this evening," Hogan said heartily, trying to get the older man's attention. Schoendorfer looked at the bottle held aloft in Newkirk's hand, and at Hilda, dressed in a pretty but simple dress, and shook his head. Hogan shrugged at Hilda's almost hurt look, and she turned to sit down on the sofa.

Newkirk raised his eyebrows at Hogan. "Now what?" he muttered under his breath.

"Food. Maybe food. Tell Louis to get moving on the meal. We have to find something that interests him." Hogan smiled broadly as Newkirk moved away. "Herr Schoendorfer, even a man of your intellect must have something that brings him pleasure. Now what might that be?" Hogan wondered, steering himself toward the scientist, who had turned away and was looking at a portrait of Hitler on the wall. "Ah, the Fuhrer. Well, I imagine he is a great inspiration for you," Hogan continued. "I must admit he doesn't do much for me. But he does seem to inspire others—like Churchill and Patton and Eisenhower!" Hogan laughed, and even Eichberger lifted the edges of his lips in a smile. But Schoendorfer stayed unaffected.

Hogan heaved a sigh. "Oh, boy!" he said softly. "Tough room." He turned to Eichberger. "How about some music, Kommandant?" he suggested.

Eichberger immediately came to his side. "A splendid idea, Hogan. Nothing like music to lend a lovely ambience to any setting."

Hogan rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. Overacting was something he didn't need. He met Eichberger over at the radio, while Schoendorfer seemed oblivious to the fuss being paid to him. "Careful, Eichberger," Hogan cautioned him. "Ham isn't one of my favorite meals."

Eichberger gave a brief nod and turned on the radio. The strains of "Lili Marleen" met their ears. Hogan frowned momentarily, then put his hand out to turn off the noise as the unexpected voice of Axis Sally penetrated the room, starting to announce the names of Allied soldiers most recently taken prisoner by the enemy in Italy. "How did we end up with this?" Hogan asked acidly. He hadn't been aware of Klink ever listening to propaganda broadcasts; Eichberger must have doctored the radio to be able to tune into this higher frequency, with broadcasts intended to wear down the Allied forces. Why he wanted to do this was a mystery Hogan refused to contemplate.

But as he started to turn the knob, he was surprised by a hand over his, stopping him. It was Schoendorfer, who stood, fascinated, listening. As Sally's smooth, calming voice filled the room, Hogan watched Schoendorfer smile. Hogan looked at Hilda and raised an eyebrow. She nodded and sidled up to the scientist, offering her arm and guiding him over to the sofa to listen. He accepted the gesture and moved with her, never taking his eyes off the radio.

"Surely he's seen a radio before?" Hogan said softly. Eichberger nodded. "Must be Axis Sally he likes."

Eichberger shrugged his ignorance of the matter. "Whatever it is, I think you have your insurance policy to keep him here." He glanced at the clock on the wall; it was six forty-five. "This garbage stays on till seven thirty."

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Carter very slowly and quietly moved the plank that covered the tunnel leading into the VIP hut. The room was dark and, he was satisfied after a moment of listening, empty. He pulled himself up and into the room, then turned back and drew in the flashlights being held up for him to take. Finally, he helped Kinch climb in, and the two got to work.

"What are we looking for?" Carter whispered as the pair started rifling through the things Schoendorfer had brought with him to camp.

"Rocket fuel plans, Carter. You know—scientific formulas, numbers, letters, stuff like that?"

Carter grinned in the darkness. "I know that bit," he said. "I mean, what will it be in?"

Kinch shrugged. "Could be anything. But it's written down, so it's gotta be somewhere."

"I hope the Colonel can manage to keep Schoendorfer away from here long enough for us to look. I mean he didn't seem like much of a party guy—did you see him when he came in?"

"Carter—concentrate on looking. We can work on his social skills after we track down his formula for the fuel."

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"You dance very nicely, Herr Schoendorfer," Hilda said encouragingly, as Bruno and the Swinging Tigers played "Tomorrow is Another Day." In truth, his moves were rather awkward, and Hilda felt herself being jerked around the room, but she had promised to do her best to keep the scientist happy—however it was he expressed that emotion—and so she determinedly kept up with his anything but fancy footwork. "How do you find time for it with your important work?"

The scientist didn't answer her, but smiled vaguely and tried to awkwardly twirl her around. As Newkirk passed by with an arrangement of flowers to place on the dinner table, Schoendorfer backed into him and nearly dropped Hilda, as Newkirk nearly dropped the vase. What followed was an almost frantic and confused ten seconds of apologies by Newkirk and a steadying of footing, ending in Hilda smiling a thank you to the British Corporal for getting her out of this terrible pairing.

Hogan drew up next to Newkirk as he placed the flowers on the table. "The papers aren't on him, sir," Newkirk said under his breath. "I just had a good feel for them. They must be in his quarters."

"Good work. Have Le Beau bring dinner out, then get word to Carter and Kinch. Now it's all up to them."

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Hogan was waiting for Kinch and Carter as they came back through the tunnel to the area under Barracks Two. Anxiously, he looked for any evidence of success, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a smile on Kinch's face. "Mission accomplished, Colonel," he said. "It took awhile but we found the formula. Carter got a lot of photos of it."

"Good work. Get to work developing them right away. We'll get them to the Underground and they'll get them out to London."

"Right away, Colonel," Carter said.

"I tell you what, Kinch," Hogan said, as Carter zipped ahead of them toward the dark room. "I'd almost have rather spent the night with Klink. Schoendorfer had the personality of a piece of cardboard."

Kinch laughed lightly. "That exciting, huh?"

"And his dancing is abominable. I'm going to owe Hilda a lot more than a pair of nylons tomorrow. Her feet won't be in any condition to step into them."

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Hogan spread a now-rare, genuine smile across his face as he examined the negatives of the film Carter and Kinch had brought back from Schoendorfer's quarters. "This is beautiful, fellas, just beautiful," he said. "London's gonna have to be pleased with these. You did a great job."

"They're ecstatic, Colonel," Kinch said, coming up beside him. "They said to pass on the message, 'Capital, old boy, simply capital.'"

Hogan shook his head once, always amused by the way Allied High Command showed its approval. "That's more than I could have hoped for," he quipped. He pulled the negatives down and handed them to Carter. "Get these ready to go. Kinch, what's the Underground say? Can they take Klink and the prints at the same time?"

Kinch shook his head. "No go, sir. They can take the photos but they say the network is still uncomfortable taking someone like Klink."

"They've taken bigger fish than him before!"

"They didn't have the Gestapo hanging around the area before."

"I thought they'd pulled out," Hogan said.

"They have, mostly. But they said they won't take a chance on Klink yet. They'll take the negatives, but not the man."

Hogan's temper, now quicker to flare than before Hochstetter's visit, and already simmering from the lack of help on London's part in this matter, came to a boil again. His eyes flashing, and his voice shaking slightly, Hogan burst, "What do I have to do to get a little cooperation around here?" And, tugging at the bottom of his jacket angrily, he disappeared down the tunnel, leaving the others to quietly watch his retreat.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Colonel Klink looked up with surprise as Hogan walked stiffly down the tunnel, grabbed a chair roughly, and sat down, putting his elbows on his knees and his forehead down to his fists. Even without hearing any of the conversation that had transpired just before Hogan appeared, Klink could tell that the American was extremely agitated. In fact, he had rarely seen Hogan this upset, and was at a bit of a loss as to how to react. Finally, he decided just to plunge in, no matter how badly worded the attempt.

"Is something wrong, Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan sat up at once and crossed his arms. "No," he said shortly, not trying to sound convincing. "No, nothing's wrong." He looked away, obviously still seething.

Klink put down the book he had been reading and tried to look Hogan in the eye. "With all due respect, Hogan, you are a terrible liar."

Hogan smirked at the irony in Klink's words. Oh, I don't know about that, he thought. But he remained silent as his mind returned to other things.

"Hogan," Klink started again hesitantly, "I may not be the person you want to confide in, but at least I am an officer. If something is troubling you that you cannot talk about with your men..."

"Why would my troubles interest you?" Hogan asked.

"We are trying to be friends, are we not?" Klink reminded him. Hogan nodded briefly. "And I understand that the burden of command can be heavy at times, even if you are running circles around the enemy."

Hogan noted the edge in Klink's voice and chided himself for not paying more attention to the Kommandant after his rescue from the cooler. True, there really hadn't been time for coddling, but Hogan felt he at least owed Klink something for all the trouble Hogan and his men had caused in the name of the Allies. And in the name of decency, to thank Klink for the chance he had taken in trying to keep Hogan from meeting an untimely end. "You don't know the half of it," Hogan said before he could stop himself. Then he added, "Actually, Colonel Klink, it's you who's giving me the trouble."

"Me?" Klink asked.

"Yeah. I can't seem to find anyone willing to take a chance on you." Hogan sighed. "London seems to be too busy to send anyone around to get you out, and the Underground is still too wary of the Gestapo to lead you out themselves. I may have to do the job myself. And that wasn't part of the plan."

"You would get me out of Germany?" Klink said.

Hogan shrugged. "I've gone out before."

"You've left Germany? Since you've been a prisoner here?" Klink wondered.

"More than once," Hogan answered. "And it looks like I'm going to have to do it again. Every minute you're in this tunnel is a minute more that countless agents are in danger. If the authorities are still looking for you, and they even suspect that we know what's locked up inside your head, they could call up that list and pull everyone on it before we have a chance to warn them, just to prove a point. And then we'd lose God knows how many good people." He paused, thinking. "You've got to go soon. I just wish I could figure out how."

Klink stayed silent, still unable to fathom his importance in this whole mess called World War Two. Especially after people like Burkhalter and Hochstetter had always made a point of drilling into him just how unimportant he was. At least Schultz had always, at least outwardly, seemed to consider Klink important. Which brought another thought into Klink's mind. How much did the guard actually know, that Klink himself had never guessed? "Hogan, how much does Sergeant Schultz know about all of this?"

Hogan took a moment before responding. He hadn't really given the guard much thought lately, other than making sure everything in camp ran smoothly, and making sure Schultz didn't suspect that Eichberger might be working with Hogan in some sabotage missions. "Schultz knows nothing," Hogan said, not anxious to spill the Sergeant's secrets.

"Hogan, I heard one of your men telling Schultz that he always knew more than he let on to. And I know the Sergeant actually saw one of your men come out of the tunnel and into the barracks. How can he know nothing?" Klink persisted.

"We don't tell him any more than we have to," Hogan replied. He noticed a sharpness creeping into his voice. Don't get riled up. You're just worried...and tired. God, you're so tired. "Schultz just has selective blindness once in awhile."

Klink snorted. "He must have a very wide selection," he said with some sarcasm. If he could ignore a big thing like a man coming out of a tunnel in the barracks, Klink could only imagine the myriad small things that the guard had chosen not to see.

"He has good reason," Hogan answered. "But those secrets aren't mine to tell." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What do you need to take with you?"

Klink considered all he had left behind. In his unexpected unseating, and his even more unexpected removal from the world above ground, Klink had had a lot of time to think about what he would miss, what he would not, and what he would savor and regret. So Hogan's question was easy to answer. "I have some special decorations that were in a locked drawer in my office from the last war. I would like to take them. And an address book that can keep me in touch with the people I hold most dear. Everything else is unimportant."

Hogan nodded. "You'll get them. Then I'll figure out how to get you out of here. I'm sorry I haven't been more helpful while you've been down here. There's just an awful lot I have to organize at the moment, and it hasn't been easy. I hope you're not claustrophobic."

Klink smiled briefly. "No, Hogan, anything but. Closed in places make me feel quite safe. And your men have been kind. I understand you have been preoccupied."

"You're very accommodating for a man whose whole life has been turned upside down."

"It appears we are, as you say, in the same boat, Hogan. Things are not quite the same for you either, are they?" Klink shook his head. "No, Hogan. I am almost content. Perhaps I am just happy that the war, at least for me, is over. Or it will be, when your Allied leaders are done with me. Certainly there are still things that bother me, even that make me angry. But what is the point of holding onto that now?" he asked, shrugging. "I will have many years to contemplate my obviously many oversights. History will judge me a fool."

"Or a hero," Hogan countered. Klink said nothing, but looked at him questioningly. "What you risked for me, Kommandant, was just as heroic as anything my men or I have done." Hogan stood up. "I'll get you out of here soon; I'll just have to organize the route and take you myself." Hogan started to turn away, rubbing his eyes, but he stopped and said, "Sorry if I seemed abrupt when I first came down here tonight. I'm just tired, and the Underground's uncooperativeness didn't help. But we'll get around it. And I'll make sure we get those things you wanted."

Hogan bade him good night, and Klink nodded wordlessly, still marveling at how Hogan always seemed to be able to turn himself around even in the face of hopelessness. He watched as Hogan walked, much more relaxed than the way he had arrived, back down toward his men. He is determined. And he is incredibly strong, despite the fear he tries so hard to hide from his men. He really is a true hero, Klink thought. And it was only then that Klink began to accept what Hogan had said—that Klink himself was a hero, something he had never honestly thought he could be.