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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"Okay, heads up," Hogan said as he descended into the cellar. The men had dozed off, more out of boredom than fatigue, and Hogan's call had them sitting bolt upright. "Here's what's happening." The men gathered close; Klink wanted to hear as well, but hung back a bit, still not ready to become one of Hogan's men. "There's no place that the whole group of us can meet along the Underground route and be safe. So I've asked London to arrange for three pickups to get us all back to Headquarters—the first two with the sub, the last with a plane. Kinch, you and Carter are going to go first, and you'll take Wilson with you. I want you to be the farthest away in case of trouble. We're used to this kind of thing, but poor Joe isn't, and I don't think it's necessary to try and get him used to the way we operate at this stage. Plus he can keep an eye on Carter in case he takes a turn."

"I won't!" Carter insisted. "Just don't let him near me with that stuff again—it stings."

Hogan nodded. "I'm sure you'll be fine, but I'd be happier if the medic was with you after you got knocked around in the tunnel."

Carter sighed and nodded, knowing he wouldn't be able to change the Colonel's mind even if dared to try.

"Next day, it's Newkirk and Le Beau. Then finally, I'll head out with Klink. If the Kommandant slows anyone down, it's going to be me. You fellas keep going. I've got the locations of your stops along the route here. Now don't deviate from them, and stick to the schedule. Otherwise, you'll foul it up for the folks behind you. Don't delay for any reason; the sub won't wait forever. The first group of you goes out tonight. Understood?"

The men were silent, oddly so, and Hogan frowned. "Is there a problem?"

More avoidance, shifting from foot to foot, staring at the ground instead of their commanding officer. Finally Newkirk spoke up. "I think we're thinking about saying goodbye, sir," he said gently.

Hogan nodded. "I know; I've been thinking about that, too. But we've got to get out of here, or we won't have a chance to attend the Stalag 13 POW reunion in ten years' time. Right?"

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Corporal Heinrich Manheim stopped for a moment to stretch and rest. He had been walking for the better part of the day, and after his gruesome discovery that morning, he was not anxious to find anything else, whether it helped the Fatherland or not. He had never met Eichberger, but it still made him angry to see him lying out there in the cold, lifeless, with that stunned look etched on his face. Americans. British. The French. Why were so many countries against Germany? Couldn't they understand that the Fatherland needed to win this war? That they had to get back their national pride?

No, Manheim thought, heading for a downed tree to sit on for a brief time to relieve his tired feet, no they don't. Well I do. He would have been happy to sleep, just for a few minutes, until he was due to meet his patrol partner a half a mile up the road in fourteen minutes. Unthinking, he closed his eyes and almost dizzily swayed back. He was abruptly awakened, however, when he heard as well as felt a metallic clang where he thought a tree should have been. He jumped up, startled, and turned around, rifle at the ready, to face whoever or whatever had snuck up on him.

But there was no one. Manheim scanned the area, then looked more closely at the spot where only seconds ago he had been resting. He squinted in the dimness, then a look of recognition crossed his face when he realized it was not a person, but a thing that he had encountered. He moved aside some branches and brushed away some light snow that had fallen earlier today, and found himself staring at a black, shiny car. A staff car.

"Sie sind in diese Richtung!" he exclaimed aloud. They have come in this direction!

His tiredness suddenly gone, the Corporal propped his rifle next to the fallen tree and quickly cleared off the rest of the car. With a thrill of fear, he shone his flashlight in the windows; empty, thank God. But there was no mistaking what it meant—the escaped American Colonel and possibly his companions had come through here, and they might still be in the area. "Friedrich!" he called, starting through the woods to where his patrol buddy was scouring the area himself. "Friedrich! Schnell, schnell, Sie sind in diese Richtung!" We'll get that evil American and his crew yet!

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"It's a great idea, Jenny; thank you," Hogan said gently. He looked at the older lady standing beside him in the cellar. The war had been hard on her, he knew. Though he knew very little about her or Willi Erickson, Hogan was certain that this simple couple had sacrificed a lot to help the Allies. His first encounter with them had been less than auspicious: he had burst in on them, gun drawn, certain that they were responsible for a breach in the Underground escape route for prisoners directed out of Stalag 13, and they had responded by smashing a chair over his head, thinking he was a Gestapo officer trying to fool them. Both parties had been wrong, and when Hogan had come back to consciousness, he had quickly learned that the Ericksons had been duped by the women working at the pub who were supposed to be on the side of the Allies, but who were instead leading escaped prisoners straight into the hands of the Gestapo.

Hogan had always harbored a little guilt at the way he had spoken to Jenny and Willi that day, and despite their repeated protests that he had done nothing wrong, the Colonel continued to carry a soft spot for them, and had tried to keep them out of direct conflict with the Germans as much as possible. But there was no avoiding it when he and the others were taking over their home.

Jenny smiled warmly at Hogan. She had come to like him very much. He reminded her of her favorite grandson, and his gentleness with her always gave her great pleasure. "Willi and I have no use for Gestapo uniforms at the moment—I don't think I could fool anyone into thinking I am one of them!"

Hogan's eyes smiled down at her. "Not in your wildest dreams. You're too humane."

Jenny put out a hand as though to touch Hogan's face softly, but she paused thoughtfully, hand outstretched, looking at Hogan's exhaustion, and drew it back to herself. "You need nourishment," she said, clearing her throat. "You did not eat when you came home."

Hogan nodded, suddenly calmed by her obvious care. "I'll come in a minute."

Jenny nodded and went back upstairs.

Hogan looked after her for a moment, then turned his attention back to his work. "Louis, go on up and grab those Gestapo uniforms; they're in the kitchen closet. Let's see if we can't make it a little easier to get out of here." Hogan turned to Wilson. "Wilson, how's your German?"

Wilson cleared his throat. "Ack-tong! Mack snell!" he declared. "Rowse, Amerikanner!"

Hogan cringed like he was in pain, and Kinch turned away to hide a chuckle. "You'd better let Carter do the talking," Hogan decided.

Wilson adjusted his shirt in mock self-defense. "There wasn't a lot of call for German in Albuquerque, you know."

Hogan grinned, "Well it wasn't exactly the native language in Bridgeport, either," he retorted. "So don't give me any blarney about not being able to learn languages, Sergeant. Just stick to all that Latin and Greek they use in medicine, okay?"

"Yeah-vole."

The others cried out in unison. "Stop that!"

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Willi had gone into the village and Jenny was straightening Wilson's German uniform when the front door burst open.

"Hände hoch! Jetzt!" A German soldier stamped into the kitchen, startling Jenny and making Wilson pale in fear. Another soldier stood close behind him, blocking the doorway. "Ah." The soldier dropped some of his menace when he saw Wilson, supposedly a member of the Gestapo, standing before him. "Verzeihung Herr Hauptmann. Ich habe sie nicht erkannt," he apologized, saluting.

Behind the cellar door, Hogan and his men had heard the shouting and the soldiers' entry. Hogan gestured for Carter to come forward. "Get out there and save Wilson," he whispered. "If he tries to speak German, we've had it."

Wilson was roused enough to shakily return the salute. He was almost visibly trembling, and was counting on some fancy talk from Jenny that he couldn't understand to stall the German soldier, when the cellar door swung open and Carter strode out, dressed in full Gestapo garb, and swinging his Luger like Klink's old riding crop. He barreled into the kitchen and stared hard at the German in the middle of the room. "Warum sind Sie hier, Unteroffizier?" he barked. Why are you here?

Taken by surprise, Manheim could only salute hastily and look around the room, trying to understand what was going on. "Herr Major, ich suche nach den entkommenen Gefangenen von Stalag 13. Ich entdeckte ein Auto zugedeckt im Wald ich glaube, dass sie gestohlen haben können." He hoped that telling the Major about the hidden car and his search for the escaped prisoners would please him. Perhaps the Major would reward him for his quick deduction that the prisoners might still be in the area.

"Und?" Carter looked expectantly at the Corporal, clearly not impressed.

Manheim hesitated. "Und… ich dachte, dass sie nahe sein konnten."

Carter scoffed, as though the idea of escaped prisoners being near an abandoned vehicle was laughable. "Wenn sie nahe waren, warum würde ich hier sein?" Carter bellowed, as though Manheim had offended him. Him, in this useless house, with prisoners on the loose? Manheim started to wither. He hadn't thought the Major would be here if the prisoners were somewhere else. He had just come here to search the house because it was close by and accidentally—and now, he thought, unfortunately—come across the Major obviously doing the same thing.

Carter turned his attention to Wilson, who was standing, stunned at the transformation of the mild-mannered American. "Und warum stehen Sie dort wie ein Idiot? Versteckt sich jemand in diesem Haus?"

Wilson was mute in fear and lack of understanding. All he could make out of that last tirade was "house" and "idiot", so he tried to put on a properly cowed response. It wasn't hard. "Nein?" Carter practically screamed in response to Wilson's silence. Wilson shook his head. "Ich dachte so nicht!" Carter looked back at Manheim, and momentarily calmed himself. "Kehren Sie zu Ihrer Abteilung zurück und berichten Sie, dass keiner hier ist. Ich habe bereits alles gründlich durchsucht." Go back and report that there is no one here. I have done a thorough search.

What? Leave without looking for himself? His superior officer would have his head! "Aber das Auto, Herr Major—"

Carter shrieked, "Das Auto bedeutet gar nichts! Gehen Sie!"

Manheim jumped at the dismissal of his discovery and the order to get out. No wonder that poor Captain looks scared to death! "Jawohl, Herr Major. Bitte entschuldigen Sie, gnädige Frau."

Jenny nodded a quiet acceptance of the Corporal's apologies. Manheim turned to the soldier who had come in with him—Thanks for standing up for me! he thought sarcastically—and, saluting Wilson and Carter, backed out of the house.

When they were sure the pair had left, Wilson sagged into a chair, and Carter grinned as Hogan and the others came out of the cellar. Klink stood amazed at Carter's performance, as the others gathered around him, excited.

"That was great, Carter!" Le Beau praised him.

Hogan looked at the medic. "Are you all right, Wilson?"

Wilson nodded shakily. "Are you sure you're on our side, Carter?"

Carter smiled broadly. "Oh, sure! That was just an act! You don't think I'd really—" He cut himself off as he realized Wilson was asking a rhetorical question. "Sorry I yelled at ya," he said sheepishly. "I just got carried away."

"That's okay," Wilson answered. "I didn't understand most of it anyway."

Hogan approached Jenny, who was still sitting at the kitchen table. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked gently.

Jenny looked up at him and smiled. "I am fine," she answered. "We have had visitors before. And I know that this young Sergeant would not do anything that could hurt me." Carter shifted feet, taking the statement with characteristic shyness. Jenny stood up. "Willi will be back soon. I will start getting you all dinner."

"Thanks, but we'd better get going," Hogan said, shaking his head. Jenny looked at him questioningly. "Carter bought us some time, but we don't know how long it's going to be before they come back. We'd better go while we can." Hogan added softly, "It was nice while it lasted."

Jenny squeezed Hogan's arm. "You can stay," she offered quietly.

Hogan shook his head again, touched. "No," he said, "it'd be too risky. They came once, they may come again. You and Willi have put yourself in too much danger for us already." He put his other hand on top of hers. "Thank you for everything." He let his eyes linger there, then put himself back in command mode. "Get your gear together, fellas; it's time to move out."