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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Carter came out of the tunnel, grinning as he ducked under the string of laundry that hid the open bunk from casual view. "Where's Colonel Hogan?" He looked at Newkirk and Le Beau, who were in the middle of a hand of gin. "Wait'll you guys see how great these pictures turned out!"
Newkirk smiled and pointed to the closed office door. "He's in there, Carter," he started to say. But he cut himself off and ducked as the Sergeant rushed around the table, nearly knocking him in the head with the wooden bar that held the negative strips.
"Blimey, mate! Watch what you're doing, will ya?" Newkirk called as Carter disappeared into the office. He turned back to his cards, gave Le Beau a grin and spread the hand on the table. "Gin."
The Frenchman muttered under his breath as he laid his own cards out and started counting points.
Hogan answered quickly when he heard the knock. "Come in!"
Carter rushed in, his precious work waving in along with him. "Colonel, we've got 'em! Everything's all set! Take a look!"
Hogan took the offered magnifying glass and quickly looked over the negatives. "That's great, Carter. Good work. Get Kinch working on a full set so I can read these without going blind. I've got just the message for the Germans to hear, and we don't have much time left."
"You betcha, boy—I mean sir. We'll get right on it!" Carter picked up his magnifying glass and grinned as he headed back into the common room.
Hogan shook his head. He couldn't help smiling at the young Sergeant's enthusiasm. The mission wasn't over by a long shot, but it did seem like things were starting to go their way. Finally, he thought. He grabbed his empty coffee cup and went in search of a refill.
Newkirk and Le Beau were the only ones in the common room not rolled up in their bunks trying to stay warm, and Hogan sat down to watch the game in progress, trying to get his mind off of waiting for the photographs.
Le Beau shuffled and dealt, picking up his hand while Newkirk was busy arranging his own cards one-handed. The Englishman had picked up several cards and fumbled them into order before doing the same to the rest. Hogan watched Newkirk's fingers closely, trying to see how the Corporal was coping with his injury.
The Colonel wasn't the only one watching the Englishman's fingers. Le Beau was also interested, but for other reasons. Eh, maybe I stand a chance of winning, since Newkirk isn't able to play up to his usual standard. Perhaps it is not fair of me to take advantage... but I did not force him to the table. Le Beau smiled to himself; right now he needed only one more card to go out with.
And there it was. Newkirk had just drawn it, then sat back and studied it for a minute before casually flipping it onto the discard pile. Le Beau stared, then started to reach for it when Newkirk spoke up. "Hang on, mate, not quite done with my play here. Got a bit of trouble holding all my cards, you know."
The Frenchman nodded. "Sorry, Pierre. What were you going to do?"
"Just this." Newkirk smiled as he showed his victim his perfect hand. "Gin."
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"The pictures are all ready, Colonel," Carter said, handing a set of prints to Hogan in his office.
Hogan thumbed through the photographs and nodded approvingly. "Great. Go out tonight with Le Beau and get them to the Underground. They'll pass them on to Du Bois, who'll transmit the message from France back to our people in Hammelburg."
"That seems like an awful lot of trouble, Colonel. Why don't we just transmit it ourselves?" Carter asked. "I mean, we have the code, and we've got our own radio."
Hogan thought about Maurice Du Bois. The French Resistance fighter had been involved with the operation on more than one occasion, and had agreed readily when Hogan had had Kinch ask him to take yet another risk. "The message can't be seen to come from within Germany. We'll have Du Bois transmit it from France on a frequency we know is being monitored by the Germans. The Krauts will think the Resistance is passing on orders from London, and they'll be more likely to move the Ack-Ack guns."
"Not bad, gov'nor." Newkirk looked doubtfully at Hogan as he, Le Beau, and Kinch filed into the office. I reckon it's all right to play Devil's Advocate again. "But what if the Krauts decide they don't need to drop their defenses? That'd leave our boys flyin' right into a death trap."
Hogan grinned disarmingly. "That's why we have General Kinchmeyer," he answered, wrapping an arm around the radio man's shoulders.
Kinch raised an eyebrow as he looked at his commanding officer. "General Kinchmeyer?"
"The Underground's going to keep watch at Leipzig and tell us when Krauts move out. If they don't, the General here will call and stir the pot. If all goes well, our boys will be clear to do the bombing run."
"Diabolical," Newkirk marveled.
Hogan picked up the paper he had been scribbling on and started reading. "'Planes to strike railway yards at Madgeburg in force. Bombers to approach target at approximately twenty-two hundred hours tomorrow. All Allied operatives in area to evacuate prior to mission. Vital installation. Failure not an option. Use all means necessary to destroy. Please acknowledge.'" Hogan looked up from the clipboard and gave one of his most mischievous smiles. "That ought to make the Krauts feel a little threatened."
Le Beau shook his head. "A perfect plan, Colonel."
"If it is, it'll be the first one."
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Hogan stood shivering in his bomber jacket in the light snow outside Barracks Two, waiting for the afternoon head count. He shoved his hands under his armpits, thinking longingly of the gloves he used to have that had worn beyond repair in the first storm of the season. He looked down the line at his men and saw that some of them, too, were suffering more than their share of the cold.
Newkirk turned up the collar of his overcoat against the wind, glad that he was able to keep his bandaged hand out of sight by using the excuse of trying to keep warm. "Hey, Schultzie, why can't we have this bleedin' roll call inside the barracks? That would be a lot better than having to stomp around in the snow for an hour!"
"Jolly joker," muttered Schultz through the scarf he managed to get wrapped around his thick neck.
"Come on, Schultz, where's Klink?" Hogan complained. "It's cold out here, and my men don't have new gloves yet, thanks to the normal German efficiency in delivering the Red Cross packages."
"I am sorry, Colonel Hogan." The German guard had a genuine look of regret and concern on his face as he spoke. "With the weather the way it is..." He trailed off and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat.
"That's enough!" came a voice from across the yard. The men looked out to see Klink approaching briskly. "I will not tolerate any more disparaging of my men!" Klink came to a halt only inches in front of Hogan. The American stared him right in the eye as he continued. "If you want those Red Cross packages so badly, Colonel Hogan, you will learn to control your tongue."
Hogan's face took on a determined, restrained expression. "And if you want to stay on friendly terms with the Protecting Power, Kommandant, you'll get my men some warm clothing."
The men continued stomping their feet to try and keep warm, but all eyes were fixed on the battle of wills between the two Colonels. Respect for their senior POW officer kept them silent, even though they, too, longed to speak out against the conditions they were forced to live in. They knew Hogan would do his best for all of them.
Klink stayed quiet, letting the silence build between him the American officer. When he did speak, his voice was quiet and authoritative. "Colonel Hogan. Your Red Cross packages will arrive as soon as the roads clear enough to allow the truck to come. You will recall that even your own men could not clear enough snow to have one of the camp trucks to meet the one carrying your precious parcels." Another pause to let that sink in. "And may I remind you that your men are already under a camp-wide punishment due to your lack of discipline? If this problem persists, I shall be forced to increase the sentence to three weeks of early lights-out."
Hogan bit his lip and let his eyes fall away from Klink's. What he wanted most of all was to head butt the Kommandant into some semblance of sense. But having the lights put out in the barracks early was a psychological killer, especially when the cold was this bitter and the nights were so long. The only thing keeping some of these men from despair was their ability to socialize, to spend time with other prisoners, discussing their hopes and dreams. Lights out before time would put an end to that, and for some of the men under Hogan's command, that would be too much to handle. Hogan took a deep breath, and nodded acquiescence. "I apologize, Kommandant," he said in a soft voice. "I'll see it doesn't happen again." He lowered his eyes, knowing he was doing what was best, but still ashamed to face his men.
Klink took Hogan's lowered gaze as one of submission. "Very well," Klink said crisply, condescendingly. Hogan bristled. "Now, gentlemen, I think we have wasted enough time out here in the cold, thanks to your dear Colonel Hogan. I, for one, am going to retreat to my quarters tonight with a nice hot cup of cocoa and a good book, and I might suggest you all do the same."
"Not without our bloody Red Cross packages, we can't," Newkirk muttered under his breath. Hogan cast him a sideways glance but said nothing.
"If you heed my wise advice, you will watch your behavior. I expect no bad reports from the guards." Klink looked briefly at Schultz. "Diiiiiss-miiiiiiiiiiissed."
Schultz waved the prisoners back to the barracks, anxious to get out of the cold himself. The men filed back into the building, trying to warm themselves up again as quickly as they could.
Newkirk glared at the closed barracks door, envisioning the Kommandant tucked up in his nice warm bed while the prisoners were making do with moth-eaten blankets and wood-chip mattresses. He spoke softly, his voice roughened by anger. "It'd be worth thirty days in the cooler to march over there and punch 'is lights out, the ruddy—"
Kinch wheeled around, grabbing Newkirk's shoulder and turning him away from the door. The American leaned over and whispered the Englishman's ear. "Lay off, Newkirk! The Colonel's got enough on his plate right now without you adding to it."
"For what it's worth, Pierre, I agree with you." Le Beau hung his scarf over one of the clotheslines. "But I must also agree with Kinch. Rest assured, mon ami, that it will one day be our turn to decide what punishments are handed to our beloved Kommandant."
Hogan's mind barely registered the exchange. He was still burning with humiliation inside; knowing he had done the only thing possible made little difference to his wounded pride. But he swallowed and rubbed his forehead, then turned to the others. "Klink's given us the opening we need," he said wearily. "If he's planning to be tucked up all snug in his bed tonight, we shouldn't have much trouble getting the code and message out to the Underground to pass on to Du Bois."
"Everything's ready to go! You just give us the word, boy, and those pictures will be on their way to France before Le Beau can say 'sacre chats'!" Carter grinned, pleased that his part of the mission was going to be a piece of pie. But the look faded from his face when he caught Hogan's grim expression. "Um, sir? Are you ok?"
Hogan smiled briefly and shook his head to lift his mood. "Yeah, I'm fine, Carter. I think I just haven't gotten enough sleep lately. Maybe we should have let Klink shut the lights out early anyway," he said ruefully. "It was almost worth it, just to see the look on his face when I showed him who's really the boss around here."
Kinch saw the dimmed light in Hogan's eyes and spoke up. "Look at it this way, Colonel. With the early lights-out thing hanging over our heads, old Klink's convinced himself that he's got you where he wants you, and he's not gonna expect us to be up to anything tonight. He'll sleep like a good little Kraut and leave us free to work." Kinch looked across the room, meeting Hogan's eyes. "We all know why you let Klink win out there, sir. And I think I speak for everyone when I say that we're proud to have you as our commanding officer."
Hogan's raw nerves took in Kinch's words like a soothing balm, and the Colonel smiled slowly. "Thanks, fellas," he said. "Let's take advantage of the peace while we have it. Be ready to go right after bed check. And then we can all get some sleep. At least until it starts all over again, tomorrow."
