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 turned away from their prisoner, wincing at the incessant noise. "Someone shut that guy up, will you?" he ordered, only half-kidding.

Newkirk eyed the German officer, whom they had had to practically drag back through the woods and down into the tunnel under the camp. Dietrich had not been particularly difficult to capture—he was just difficult to sedate. The man had not stopped struggling or shouting since he was taken. At one point, the group was so close to being given away that Kinch had shoved a gag in Dietrich's mouth. Now, Newkirk was tempted to do it again just to give them all a few minutes' peace.

"'E sounds like the screeching cat that used to live next door to me in London," Newkirk observed distastefully.

"We've gotta get this live wire out of here, and fast," Hogan said, nodding. "We can't keep him tied up down here for a week while the Underground figure out a way to get him out; the Krauts will break up the operation in no time with the racket he's making. We're going to need another plane." Hogan turned back to Dietrich and moved in close. "You got that, Fritz? We're gonna give you a nice ride across the Channel so you can tell us everything General von Hildebrand was doing with that nice new laboratory he's been spending so much time at."

Dietrich's eyes blazed, and before anyone could predict it, he spat venomously at Hogan, hitting the Colonel square on the cheek. Hogan raised an arm and turned away instinctively to protect himself as Dietrich jerked forward. Then he wiped his face with the back of his hand and glared at the German. "Gag him," he growled at no one in particular.

Newkirk's green eyes burned with fury at the insult to Hogan. He was next to Dietrich in an instant, his hand already coming up to strike the German. Catching himself at the last second, he leaned over and snarled into the captive man's ear. "Be very glad that we don't treat our prisoners the way you lot do." The Englishman grabbed the rolled kerchief they'd used as a gag and shoved it into Dietrich's mouth before anything else could happen.

Le Beau handed Hogan another kerchief to wipe his hands and face. "Boche. Cochon. Serpent…"

"Steady, Le Beau," Hogan said, brushing the cloth roughly against his face, then shoving it in his pocket. "Well, it's a cinch he's not going to give up any family secrets soon." Once again showing a calm exterior, Hogan turned back to Dietrich and looked him in the eye. The now-quiet German was watching Hogan intently, his eyes moving with the American, his hatred searing into Hogan, even in the dim light of the tunnel. "I'm afraid it was your love of the drink that was your downfall," Hogan said to the man. "Your pattern of hitting the Hofbrau most nights meant we could track you down quite nicely. You'll be on the wagon once you're in England, though, so you'll have a chance to kick the habit."

Hogan didn't move as Dietrich struggled against the ropes keeping his arms tight behind his back. Again the Colonel turned to Kinch. "London, Kinch. A plane."

Kinch nodded, his own anger still bubbling at the German's actions. "You bet, Colonel," he agreed, heading toward the radio.

Hogan made to follow. "Budget be damned," he said, aiming a small grin at Le Beau and Newkirk, who were still standing by the prisoner. "Let them get this guy out of our hair… before they have to fork out more money for earplugs."

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Le Beau sat at the table, writing a letter while taking his turn at guard duty. It was never a pleasant task, but with this particular prisoner, it was especially unpleasant. Captain Dietrich had been easy enough to capture; a quick snatch outside the Hofbrau and it was done. Grabbing him was one thing; keeping him looks like it might be another. He's done nothing but fight ever since. I can't wait to get him out of here.

The Frenchman pushed the paper away from him, distracted for the fourth time by the angry muffled mumblings coming from the German a few feet away. He turned toward the prisoner and shot him an angry look. "Why don't you just be quiet?" he sneered. "You have nothing to be angry with us about; if your precious Boche General did not entrust so much information to you and then make himself inaccessible, we would not have had to get you instead. Now you can share that information with the Allies, and we can get rid of you once and for all. You are nothing but trouble."

"Take it easy, Louis." Carter looked up from his game of cat's cradle and smiled. "We'll get this guy out of here soon enough, and things will get back to normal." The American paused for a moment, then laughed. "At least as normal as they ever are, anyway. Because this has to be the most unusual place I've ever been." Carter stopped for a moment and then said, "Well, not the most unusual. The most unusual place was probably an old cave my uncle took me to when I was about four years old. You see, it had all these little drawings in it, kind of like a caveman would have made, but it wasn't old enough to be a caveman's stuff. Plus I was sure that cavemen didn't have airplanes. At least I didn't think they did—you know, when I was four I wasn't sure about the timing of any of this stuff—"

"Cavemen and airplanes? I've never heard of such a thing as that." Le Beau rolled his eyes. "Are you sure you didn't knock yourself in the head in that cave?"

"Gee, I was just a kid!" Carter protested. "What did I know?" Carter turned fully toward Le Beau and away from Dietrich, who had finally quieted down. "I'll bet when you were four years old, you didn't know everything about the world, either!"

"Perhaps not," Le Beau conceded, looking back to the desk and shaking his head defiantly. "But at least I knew that cavemen could not fly airplanes!"

A sudden noise from behind made Carter bring his attention to their prisoner—or at least, he thought it did. When he looked to where the German had been put—tied with his arms behind him, in a hard chair near the tunnel wall—what he saw instead was an empty chair. "Hey!" he called, surprised.

Carter spun around to try and find Dietrich, but without warning found himself with being pulled from behind, with a rope digging into his neck. Carter gagged. "Louis!" he choked.

Le Beau gasped when he saw what was happening. Dietrich had worked loose his ropes and was now using Carter as a way to get out. The young Sergeant was red in the face, pursing his lips and trying to move along with the German's pull so he didn't feel so much pressure on his throat, and his worried eyes were locked on Le Beau, pleading. "Colonel Hogan!" Le Beau called as loudly as possible, tugging quickly on the rope that set off a distress alert upstairs. "Colonel Hogan!"

From up at the common room table where he was sipping a cup of coffee, Hogan heard the cry and, alarmed, raced to the bunk that hid the tunnel. He tripped the latch, putting out a hand for Kinch and Newkirk, who had immediately jumped up to follow, to stop them from coming with him in case there was trouble, and hopped down to the earth below.

What he saw startled him. Dietrich was standing behind Carter, pulling him toward the ladder by the rope. Carter was trying to move along with him, his hands up on the rope, trying to ease the pressure on his neck. Le Beau was standing shocked near the base of the ladder, where he had called for help, knowing he could not overpower the larger Dietrich.

Hogan absorbed the scene in seconds and took immediate action. With one swift move he came up beside Dietrich, who had been taken by surprise when Hogan dropped from above, and placed him in a stranglehold, forcing the German to loosen his grip on the rope he had pressed against Carter. Carter took the opportunity to twist himself around and slip out from under the rope, which he then snatched and kept away from the man's hands. "Gimme a hand!" Hogan managed as Dietrich struggled, thrashing and trying to get in a few well-aimed kicks to free himself from the Colonel's iron grip.

Suddenly Newkirk and Kinch came down from the barracks. Hogan gasped and doubled over as one of Dietrich's elbows met its target in his gut, and he momentarily lost his hold. Newkirk pulled up beside the Colonel and grabbed Dietrich roughly by the arm, with Kinch grasping the German's other side. The two jerked the man's arms behind his back, and Hogan took the rope and tied it tight around his wrists. Newkirk and Kinch stayed holding Dietrich, like sentries on guard. Catching his breath, Hogan reached down to pick up his crush cap, which had come off in the scuffle, and said breathlessly, "What happened? Carter, are you all right?"

Carter, still rubbing his neck, had watched Hogan and the others come in to subdue Dietrich with something akin to awe. In the few months he'd been with Hogan's group, he had seen some pretty amazing things, and almost all of them with very little violence. Hogan's style was brains over brawn, manipulation over manhandling. But when push came to shove, the Sergeant could see now that Hogan was just as much a man of action, able—and willing—to put himself in the middle of things. And the men who worked with him were just the same. It made the young man feel almost unworthy of being part Hogan's operation; he wasn't the physically aggressive type. "Yeah, Colonel, I'm fine," he said.

"We were talking and the Boche must have loosened his ropes, Colonel," Le Beau replied, coming up to make sure for himself Carter was unhurt.

Hogan rubbed his abdomen tenderly and threw a contemptuous look at Dietrich. "Tie up his hands and his feet, and get a couple more people down here. We're going to have to keep a closer eye on this one," he said irritably. "And make sure there are no weapons nearby," he added. "We can't take any chances. London said the plane's coming tonight. Let's just get through today."

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Short-tempered from a lack of sleep and concerns about Dietrich waiting in the tunnel, Hogan presented himself when ordered to Wilhelm Klink's office later that day. "You wanted to see me, Kommandant?" he asked, not really interested in what the German officer had to say.

Colonel Klink tidied some papers on his desk, then looked up at his senior Prisoner of War officer. "Yes, Colonel Hogan. Sit down." He waved the American to a chair, then eyed him for a moment before continuing. "I want a work detail, about twenty men, to clean up and do some repairs around the camp. Go see Corporal Langenscheidt to get the necessary tools and supplies."

Any pretense of good humor Hogan had immediately disappeared. "You're kidding," he said.

"No, Hogan, I am not kidding. The work needs to be done, and besides, the repairs would be for the benefit of the prisoners." Klink shook his head. "Why is this such a problem for you?"

Hogan raised an eyebrow and held a bit tighter to his crush cap. "I think the three details you got them to do last week were more than enough, sir," Hogan answered. "Plus I can't see how repairing the fence is going to help my men—especially since we're the ones who cut them open in the first place!" And what about everything else I have to do today? Like babysitting the nasty little Kraut boy downstairs?

"Colonel Hogan." Klink set his fists on the desk and stood. "All I have asked for is a work detail to do some repairs to some of the buildings; nothing has been said about working on the wire. I had it in mind to have the roof repaired on Barracks Twelve during this particular project." The Kommandant walked away from his desk and circled behind Hogan to look out the office window. "But if that does not interest you, then I suppose the roof will have to continue to leak."

Hogan grimaced. He'd been complaining about the leaky roof for three weeks, ever since the last rain storm had demonstrated how well it could be used as a strainer instead of a shelter. If he resisted now, any future requests for the welfare of his men might get brushed off. He swallowed his anger. "That's different," Hogan said with forced civility. "Of course my men will help get that done. When do they start?"

"Today, naturally." Klink walked back behind his desk and sat down. "I also want the trash picked up throughout the entire camp, and there are some odd repairs and paint work that need to be done as well." The German picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to Hogan. "There's the list; see that your men get started right away."

Hogan took the paper with a sigh and glanced at the writing on it. "I'm not sure we'll get to all this today, Kommandant," Hogan said.

"Why not?" Klink asked. "It's not like the prisoners have anything else to do." He laughed lightly at his own little joke.

Hogan didn't join in the levity. The amount of work Klink was asking the men to do would keep Hogan away from the barracks all day, and he didn't have the time to spare, not with Dietrich occupying his thoughts and an impending argument with London weighing on his mind. "As a matter of fact, we do," he answered.

"Really? And what might that be?"

"Well, Le Beau's teaching some of the men new ways to cook Spam, and Newkirk is holding a handicrafts class later on, after Carter is finished."

"Finished? With what?"

"With the new escape plan he's thinking up—everyone's in on it. He figures that all we need is another pound of butter and we can squeeze right through the gap in the fence near Barracks Ten—oops," Hogan said, snapping his fingers and wincing. "Didn't mean to give that away."

"Hogannnnn," Klink seethed, knowing that the American was once again making a mockery of the Kommandant's perfect no-escape record. "You have your orders; dismissed!"

"But Kommandant, there's a lot more on this list than just things that will benefit my men—"

Klink's hand came down on his desk with a loud thump. "Colonel Hogan. It would be as easy to remove the projects that will benefit the prisoners as it was to add them. Now, I suggest that you gather your men and get started before I make out a new, and much shorter, list." The Kommandant opened a desk drawer, took out a clean sheet of paper and picked up a pen. He paused and gave Hogan a long look. "Well, which shall it be?"

Hogan stood up abruptly, humiliation stinging behind his eyes as he knew he had no choice now but to back down or risk putting things the prisoners needed in jeopardy. And no matter what he had brewing on his own, the needs of the men who looked up to him in camp as senior POW officer came first. He took in and let out a deep breath. "You know, people like you give the war a bad name."

"I am not here to make friends with the prisoners, Hogan."

"Then you're doing a great job." And Hogan turned and stormed out of the room.