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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Newkirk crouched behind some bushes, catching his breath as his eyes swept the nearby area for any sign of a German patrol. So far, so good, but we're a long way from camp tonight for this job, and these woods are gonna be crawlin' with Krauts after the fireworks. Should make for an interesting time. He glanced over his shoulder and signaled for Hogan and Carter to move forward, then took off himself. Seems like I'm always on point, but at least this way, the Colonel can keep an eye on our new lad while I keep an eye on everything else.

Hogan tapped Carter's arm, and the pair followed the path taken by the Englishman, making sure they had their explosives in tow. Hogan nodded at Newkirk and pointed toward the east, where a clearing was visible, and, according to the instructions they had received earlier that day, the railroad track lay that they needed to destroy. They were nearly there. Newkirk gave a quick thumbs up, and headed into the edge of the clearing. Keeping himself within the trees, he started working his way around, making a final check for any patrolling Germans.

Finally the three of them gathered at the track where they would start their vital work. Without words, Hogan reiterated the orders he had given the others earlier in the night. Unpacking the explosives with Carter hovering at his side, Hogan raised his chin in the direction of the signal box. Newkirk took some of the fuse wire and explosives and headed out in that direction, while Carter picked up some of the dynamite and headed for the track itself. Hogan stood up, looking around cautiously, and moved out of the opening, dropping the sack that had carried their load out of sight. He drew his gun and continued to survey the area, watching, listening, feeling for any unwanted intrusion.

Newkirk crouched by the tracks, carefully attaching the fuse to a bundle of dynamite. That done, he let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and wiped the sweat from his face onto the sleeve of his uniform jacket. Tricky business, this. Here I am sweating through each step, and Carter makes it look like a Sunday stroll through Hyde Park. The Englishman shook his head as he began to bury the explosive in a hole he'd dug under the railroad track. There. One down, two more to go and I'm done. Best get crackin' then.

For his part, Carter had his charges set and was already trailing the wires back to where he'd left the timer. Boy, how do they do this kind of thing all the time? The way Newkirk led us through the woods to exactly where we needed to be, you'd think he was part Indian or something! And look at Colonel Hogan over there, calm as can be. The Sergeant picked up the timer and started attaching his wires to it. A fellow sure can feel safe with these guys around to keep an eye on things.

Hogan squinted his eyes, looking deep into the darkness, then glancing back to where Newkirk had just joined Carter at the railroad track to continue laying the explosives that would spell the end of the shipment heading to France. Hogan shrank a little deeper into his bomber jacket. They wouldn't be back at camp soon enough tonight for his liking. The idea of heading out in uniform didn't appeal to him, but being so far away from camp this time, he thought the trio might actually be afforded a little extra protection if they were caught outside the wire. In their black clothing and face paint, they could be shot on sight as saboteurs; miles from camp, and in their military-issue uniforms, they could more likely pass themselves off as escaped prisoners. Pass ourselves off? Hogan snorted softly in the dark night. We are escaped prisoners. Except we keep going back! Uncomfortable with the scenario but realizing the necessity of it, his compromise was that those going outside wore fake dog tags; that way, if they were captured by the enemy, there would be less chance of them being connected with Stalag 13, and the operation might remain safe. I wonder how Le Beau and Kinch are going with Townsend. The good Group Captain is about to see what a typical night is like for us chronic over-spenders. There's no champagne and caviar for my boys… but I can't think of anyone who deserves it more.

Finally getting his last charge set, Newkirk brought his wires over to Carter. "Glad that's done," he whispered. "Now get it all hooked up and we can scarper back to camp."

"Okay, Newkirk. I've just about..." Carter's voice trailed off as he connected the last wire, then turned the switch that started the timer. "That's it! All I've gotta do is hide this and we're all set!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Newkirk appreciated the young man's enthusiasm for explosives, but he wished Carter would learn to be a bit quieter about it.

"Sorry," Carter whispered.

Hogan turned toward the others, watching with some impatience as the pair fumbled noisily at the track. When they stood up and started walking toward him, he nodded. "Let's go," he said softly.

Suddenly Hogan stopped dead in his tracks and held up a hand to halt Newkirk and Carter. Newkirk put a hand on Carter's arm to still him. Gun at the ready, Hogan moved further into the brush, then motioned for the others to get out of sight. They quickly moved in close to Hogan, and Newkirk drew his pistol. "Patrol," Hogan said in a breath. "We've gotta get out of here, and I mean now." He took a close look at Carter, whose face seemed to pale even in the darkness. "Don't worry; this isn't as unusual as it seems." He looked at Newkirk. "Newkirk, you take Carter and sweep west; I'll lead them off to the south. You'll pass the rendezvous point—get Le Beau and Kinch and get back to camp. Don't let Townsend out of your sight."

"I'll see to it, gov'nor. Good luck." Newkirk gave Carter enough of a push to get the Sergeant moving, then the two of them took off westward to meet with the others.

Hogan watched their retreat, then, purposefully moving more towards the noise he heard in the underbrush, he started his own perilous retreat home.

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"Come on, come on," Le Beau urged impatiently. "This way!"

The English officer pulled his arm out of the harness as Kinch bundled up the parachute silk. "Doing my best, old chap," Townsend said breathlessly. "I don't do this kind of thing every day, you know."

"There are a lot of things men behind desks don't do," Le Beau muttered.

"Come on, let's get out of here, in case someone spots us," Kinch urged. "We've got orders to get you to the rendezvous point, Group Captain, and then get back to Stalag 13."

"Rendezvous point?" the Englishman repeated. "How many of you came out tonight?" he asked. He took large steps to catch up to Le Beau, who had plowed ahead, anxious to get home, and unhappy having to baby sit a man who was probably only here to cause trouble.

"Colonel Hogan and two others are on another mission just about a mile from here, sir. We're supposed to meet up with them and all go back to camp together," Kinch replied. "They're doing a job that came up at the last minute and couldn't be put off until later."

"Oh, I see," Townsend said, dodging a tree branch that came up at him unexpectedly. "Bit of a bad night for a visitor, it seems."

"Quiet; we are getting to the area," Le Beau said harshly. "We have to watch out for patrols."

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Newkirk put out his hand to stop Carter, then pulled the American down to crouch behind a bush. He leaned over and whispered, "Right then, we're where we're supposed to be, so we wait." The Englishman checked his pistol and started looking, and listening, for any sign of the others.

Carter nodded, giving Newkirk a wide-eyed look. "But what about Colonel Hogan?" he whispered back. "He's out there all alone and—"

Quickly putting his free hand over the Sergeant's mouth, Newkirk gave Carter a hard look. "I know that, which is why as soon as we see Le Beau or Kinch, you're gonna go back to camp with them, and I'm gonna go after the gov'nor. Got it?"

Carter frowned as Newkirk's hand left his face. "Well, gee, that isn't what the Colonel ordered us to do, Newkirk. I mean if he's out there alone, and you go back for him alone, then you'll both be alone. I mean not together alone, but alone alone."

"Let's just say there's been a change in plans then." Newkirk stopped as he heard rustling in the brush not far away, and raised his pistol to cover the area before letting out a soft, two-toned whistle. A three-note tune was his response. "That's them; let's go," Newkirk said, and he urged Carter into a tiny clearing.

A few seconds later, Le Beau, Kinch and Townsend appeared, the Englishman breathing heavily. "Quite a little stretch you've got to go, chaps," he said. "I used to handle this sort of thing quite easily; I must be out of practice."

"Well, we are all in great shape," Le Beau said sullenly. "Especially Colonel Hogan." He frowned as he looked around the meeting place. "Where is the Colonel?"

"Carter'll have to tell you; I've got a job to do." Newkirk was already turning to leave as he spoke. "You lot get on back to camp—Colonel's orders." Before anyone could speak up, the Englishman had disappeared back into the brush.

"Hey, Newkirk!" Carter started to call out, but Kinch hurriedly yanked at the man's arm, stopping him mid-cry.

"You trying to get us all killed?" Kinch hissed. "Where's the Colonel?"

"We ran into a patrol, so he told us to head this way and he'd lead them off in another direction. Newkirk was supposed to come back to camp with us and the Group Captain." Carter looked at Townsend. "Oh—uh, hi, uh, sir." He broke away from Kinch's grasp and saluted awkwardly.

"If that man has just gone off in violation of your commanding officer's orders, he's in for a bit of trouble," Townsend observed, giving Carter a strange look and returning the salute.

"Yeah, that's Newkirk," Kinch admitted, looking after where the Englishman had barreled off. He shook his head. "But if I wasn't here with you, I'd be joining him right now."

"What?" Townsend asked, astonished. "You want to disregard your commanding officer's orders?"

Kinch looked sharply at Townsend. "When Colonel Hogan's out on his own, the whole operation is at stake. And when he's out leading the Germans on a wild goose chase to keep us safe, you bet I want to be out there. Just like he'd be out there for us." He shook his head, frustrated. "Let's get back to camp and hope Newkirk can do the work for us."

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Hogan didn't stop when the branch hit him in the face. He had been looking all around him while running in case the patrol was closing in and had not seen the limb in time to duck when the pine needles poked him in the eye. With the back of his hand he wiped at the tears that formed in protection of the invaded eye and started pouring down his face. But he kept moving.

Sounds from behind him made him pause and then alter his course, then he heard quickening footsteps that made him speed up his own. He stumbled, tripping on something on the forest floor, and fell nearly face first to the ground. Raising his head out of the scrub, he held still, tightly gripping his gun, listening. All was suddenly quiet. He didn't like the odds, so he stayed where he was, waiting, breathing through the sharp stabs of pain radiating from the knee he had twisted as he landed hard, and wondering how long it would be before his men were safely back in camp.

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Newkirk ducked behind a tree, leaning against it as he tried to catch his breath. Sweat ran freely down his face despite the cool spring evening from running as fast as he could through the woods. He took the southern route away from the rail line, so if the Colonel's been able to stick to the plans we made in camp, he should be somewhere in this area. Now all I've got to do is find him, dodge the entire German Army, and get us back to Stalag 13 before morning roll call. The Englishman shook his head. Piece of cake.

Moving out cautiously, Newkirk started running again, only to pull up short when he heard something hit the ground hard. He dropped himself behind a fallen log, listening intently to the sudden silence. After several tense moments of hearing nothing but his own heartbeat hammering in his chest, he took the chance of whistling his two-toned signal, hoping desperately that it hadn't been a Kraut he'd heard falling.

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Hogan wiped one more time at his eye and stopped as he heard what sounded distinctly like the whistle of a pre-arranged signal. He frowned. His men were supposed to be heading back to camp. Still… Not wanting to chance it, he waited, breathing shallowly, then nodded to himself when he heard it again. It had to be a signal. I told them to go home! he thought fleetingly. Then he let that idea go and whistled back.

Newkirk grinned in relief, and answered the three-note whistle with one of his own before getting to his feet and heading for where the welcome sounds had come from. Innate caution kept his pistol in hand, ready for use as he drew closer. "Gov'nor?" he whispered. "Where are you?"

"I'm here," came a soft growl. Hogan struggled to sit up as Newkirk came into view. "I thought you were a Kraut patrol. What the hell are you doing here? I ordered you back to camp with Carter." Hogan hissed as he drew up his right leg, then ignored it and stared down the Corporal as he awkwardly stood.

Newkirk shoved his pistol into his belt as he reached Hogan. "I sent Carter back with the others, sir. He's fine, but you don't look too good yourself." Ducking his head to avoid meeting the Colonel's hard look, the Corporal dropped to one knee and reached out to Hogan, intending to examine the man's leg.

"Leave off," said Hogan, almost sharply, limping painfully away from the Englishman. "We don't have time for that. The patrols are still in the area; we have to get out of here. Did they get Townsend?"

"They did, sir." Newkirk nodded and glanced at his watch. "You're right about the patrols; not only that, but in about ten minutes, it's gonna look like someone's celebrating Guy Fawkes Night a few months early. We'd best be long gone before that happens." He paused, and gave Hogan a concerned look. "Are you up to it, Colonel?"

Hogan arched an eyebrow at Newkirk in the dim light. "I'd better be or I'll never make it back in time to avoid the fireworks. I prefer to wait for the Fourth of July." He turned away from Newkirk, scanning their surroundings. Then, waving his pistol, he motioned for the Englishman to follow him toward a course that would lead them home.

Newkirk followed silently, knowing that Hogan was right—they needed to be well away from the area, and fast. I'm in for it when we get back to camp, though. I've managed to avoid some of his less-important orders before by twistin' his words back on him, but this time I've gone and disobeyed a clear and direct order. He shook his head and studied his commanding officer for a moment before turning his eyes back to watch the surrounding woods. The gov'nor's got every right to be angry with me over it, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat, just so I could be certain he was safe.

Hogan motioned Newkirk to move ahead of him and behind a tree, and with difficulty he advanced to a concealed spot behind one on the opposite side of a narrow path. Gun held up close to his body and ready to aim, Hogan looked sharply at every shadow, listened to every movement, and waited for the quiet that would tell him all was well. He bit his lip against the pain in his knee that had intensified since they started walking, and eventually moved back out, nodding toward Newkirk and urging him out of hiding. He knew where they had to go. Hogan raised his chin toward a fallen tree well off the path. "There," he mouthed silently.

Newkirk nodded in reply, and started toward the tree when he whirled around to stare intently into the darkness. Holding up a hand, he tapped his ear, then pointed in the direction from which he'd heard the faint sound of metal striking metal and looked at Hogan to see if the Colonel had heard anything as well.

Hogan nodded and pointed back to the safety of the shadows. The Englishman faded back into the trees, his gun out and ready while hoping he wouldn't have to use it. He glanced at his commanding officer, waiting to see how Hogan wanted to play this out.

Hogan straightened as he slowly backed up to the edge of the clearing, then advanced just slightly, hoping to see what was out there in the blackness. Newkirk bit his lip, watching tensely as Hogan clearly struggled to pace himself with his bad leg to get closer to the source of the noise without giving himself away. But the Colonel continued edging in, his own pistol raised but shaking in a hand trembling with adrenalin and stress. Just when Newkirk thought he was going to have to move in himself, Hogan backed off and worked his way back to the Englishman, drawing him cautiously into the darkness.

"There's more than one," Hogan said in a hushed voice. "Some ahead of us to the left, some to the right. We'll have to retreat, and quietly, if we want to get out of here. And together we're an easier target." He paused and looked at Newkirk with an intensity born of urgency. "I'm gonna give you an order, and this time I want you to obey it." Newkirk swallowed hard and looked away, then turned back to Hogan and nodded. "These guys are to the north at the moment. We need to go south to get home. You're going to head southeast; I'm going to head southwest. You're going back to camp, and you're staying there. I'll be coming, too, once I lead them away. You got it?"

"And what happens when you get caught, sir?" Newkirk whispered harshly in reply. "The way you're moving now, you will get caught if you're alone. The way I see it, about the only chance you've got is if we stick together." The Corporal shook his head. "I'll do what you say, because I said I would, Colonel. Just you be sure to write and tell us where they've put you when it's all over."

Hogan's eyes flared for just a brief second, but he didn't give in to Newkirk's obvious attempt to get him to change his mind. "Better one of us caught then both of us," he said. "Go back and make sure Townsend sees that you obey orders."

Hogan was about to continue when he heard another sound—nearer, louder. "Swell," he hissed. "They're moving. And they're closer. We'll have to take our chances together. But if you don't start listening, Newkirk, I'll get you kicked you out of two armies." Without waiting for an answer, Hogan turned and started to hobble away from the noise.

Newkirk grinned briefly, despite the seriousness of the situation, as circumstances had conspired to help him get his way with Hogan, at least this time. As he followed the American, he kept glancing over his shoulder, fully expecting to see the entire German Army come crashing out of the brush. After a few minutes, realizing that he hadn't heard anything other than their own movements, Newkirk spoke up quietly. "I think we're in the clear, gov'nor." He stopped, and turned to look down their back trail, straining to hear anything unusual coming from the darkness.

"Good," Hogan practically gasped, almost immediately sitting heavily on the ground. He took panting breaths to slow his fast-beating heart, and with the back of his hand wiped the heavy layer of perspiration from his forehead. He stretched out his leg agonizingly, trying not to gasp at the excruciating pain that shot through him when he did. He tried to massage the swelling knee, but found it too tender even to touch. "Stop for a minute. We're only about three miles off now."

Leaning against a tree, Newkirk swept his side cap off and blotted the sweat from his face with his sleeve. "Colonel Hogan, there's something I've gotta ask you." He turned to face the American, trying to read the man's expression by the faint moonlight. "If we do get captured, the Jerries will separate us, won't they?"

Hogan nodded, still gulping in deep, cold breaths. "Maybe," he said. He ran a hand across his face and tried to stop the light-headedness that had settled in as he ran.

"We can't let that happen, sir. If we stick together, we can look out for each other, and I believe we'd both stand a better chance of escapin' than either of us would alone." Newkirk paused to give that statement a chance to sink in before he went on. "And there's only one way I know of to pull it off."

"One man escaping alone has a much higher chance of success," Hogan replied emotionlessly. "You know the odds, Newkirk." He paused. "And what makes you so sure we're going to be caught anyway?"

Newkirk shrugged. "Nothing; I was just asking, gov'nor," he said. "It's just that, with you being an officer and all, the Krauts will know they have a real prize, even if they don't know they've got Papa Bear. But if they think you're just an enlisted man, they might be more likely to leave you alone."

Hogan raised an eyebrow. "And how do you suggest they be made to think that?"

Newkirk's answer was brief and to the point. "By taking away your eagles, sir." Hogan shot a surprised look at the Corporal. "The Krauts have been known to make examples of officers," he said quietly. As you well know. "They think they have more to hide. If you're just one of the other ranks, sir, they might ignore you."

"And when they find out we're lying, we're both dead," Hogan replied harshly. His patience had disappeared with his energy, and his optimism. He swallowed a groan as he shifted his throbbing leg. "Forget it, Newkirk. We are who we are. Being separated might be a good thing—if they're concentrating on me, they won't be so worried about you. If we are captured, you concentrate on getting yourself back to Stalag 13. I'd make it an order, but that doesn't seem to matter much at the moment." Hogan snorted lightly, to show Newkirk he didn't hold the Englishman's disobedience against him. "Don't they teach you to obey orders in the RAF?"

"They tried, sir." Newkirk laughed softly. "But I only follow the ones that make sense."

Anything Hogan might have said in response was lost when the night sky was lit up by a brilliant orange fireball, and the ground trembled from the force of the explosions going off back at the train tracks. Hogan looked up and nodded, allowing a small smile of satisfaction to light his face. "Well, there go some of Carter's best," he said. "And that means we'd better get up and get going. The Krauts will be on the move now."

Hogan stood up but nearly fell over as his twisted knee screamed pain through his leg at his first step. He caught himself and waved away Newkirk's solicitous hands. "Let's go; let's go!" he urged, and he did his best to pull himself along as the sound of fast and heavy running suddenly burst through the trees. He tried to push the Corporal away. "We shouldn't have stopped—they're practically on top of us. Newkirk, get going—head back to camp. I'll hide and catch up when I can. Now go. Please!"

"All right, sir. Good luck." Newkirk gave Hogan a final look and sprinted off into the trees. He didn't go far, however, as he ducked behind the first one large enough to offer concealment. Something they did teach me in the RAF, mate: Never leave one of your own behind. The Englishman gritted his teeth as he watched Hogan's painful progress, wanting nothing more than to go back and help, but knowing his offer would only cause more delays while the Colonel argued with him about it.

A couple more steps and Hogan was down on the ground again and gripping his knee, clearly in agony. Newkirk moved from tree to tree, keeping watch but resisting the strong urge to make his presence known. Hogan wiped at his brow and struggled up again, jerking his head around quickly to listen for any approaching danger, and then stumbled forward toward a cluster of rocks and branches that could offer a place to hide. This time when he fell he wasn't so lucky; the large rock his head struck on the way down was hardly a soft pillow for him to rest on. But it was the one that would claim his consciousness, leaving him still on the forest floor.

"Bloody 'ell!" Newkirk swore softly as he scrambled back to Hogan's side. He started to pick the American up, hoping to carry him to safety, but the increasingly loud sounds of men crashing through the woods convinced the Englishman that he'd run out of time. "You can hate me for this later, gov'nor," Newkirk whispered, removing the eagle that denoted Hogan's rank from his collar and the pilot's wings from his shirt. "But I'm convinced that this is the only way you're gonna survive being taken prisoner again." Then he quickly stripped Hogan's leather jacket off his unconscious form and tucked the insignias into one of the pockets before stuffing the cherished coat into a nearby hollow log. A hurried glance around revealed the Colonel's crush cap lying nearby, and Newkirk picked it up, briefly studying the emblem before putting the cap into hiding with the jacket. I'm not certain if that's something only officers wear, so best play it safe.

Returning to his commanding officer, Newkirk reached over to shake the man's shoulder when a loud call of "Halt! Hände hoch!" rang through the darkness. Brilliant flashlight beams pierced the night, blinding him as he carefully stood and slowly raised his hands into the air. Well, here we go again.