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 looked toward Hogan's closed door yet again, hoping against hope that it would suddenly open and their commanding officer would come out and reassure them. But it didn't, and the Colonel didn't, and so the Sergeant sighed and looked back to his friends. "D'ya think we should go in and see if he's okay?" he asked, again.

"No," Kinch answered almost immediately, exactly as he had the last three times Carter asked this. "If he needed us, he'd tell us."

"Not bloody likely," Newkirk retorted. "But Kinch is right about one thing, Andrew—you're better off not going in there."

"What time did that Boche come for him last night?" Le Beau asked.

"Two a.m.," Kinch replied.

The group lapsed into silence. Hogan had already spent most of the day and evening with Oberholzer, locked away in a cell to which the men had no secret access, and returned well after evening roll call. Though there were only a couple of minor abrasions to show for his encounter at the time, Hogan's men suspected there were more hidden injuries that they would not be told about. And, also as they suspected, the Colonel had merely offered them a weary smile and "The guy's barking up the wrong tree," before disappearing into his room, where he could hide from their prying eyes and their concerned questions. Then, in the middle of the night, when everything appeared to have returned to normal, the lights had been switched on in the barracks, and two guards had come for Hogan again, not allowing him to return until several hours later, when the Colonel had again taken refuge in his quarters.

And he had stayed there, leaving his men sick with worry, and more than a little fear.

"Maybe I could offer him something to eat," Le Beau said after a moment, trying to think of a way to get himself into the room.

Newkirk shook his head. "Stomach's probably too sore for him to eat, if I know my Gestapo," he countered.

"He seems okay," Kinch said unconvincingly.

"What, in the whole thirty seconds we've seen him?" the Englishman snorted.

"Well then what?" Carter asked.

They didn't have time to work it out. Hogan's door opened and they immediately ceased their conversation. The Colonel came out, still wearing his jacket but minus his crush cap, and grabbed his coffee cup. "How old's this stuff?" he asked, holding up the kettle.

"Just a couple of hours, Colonel," Le Beau answered hastily.

"Good," Hogan said. He poured and took a drink, wincing visibly as he swallowed. Then he came and sat down at the table, where the others crowded in almost instantly, ready to ask questions.

"He's gone now, right, Colonel?" asked Carter. "He won't be coming back, will he—"

"I figured out what Oberholzer wants," Hogan said over Carter, purposefully ignoring the man's question.

"What's that, sir?" Newkirk asked.

"He's after you."

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Dennison ran his hands through his hair again, frustrated as he looked over the papers on the desk in front of him. No matter what he did, he just couldn't make it work. Some of his pilots weren't ready. There weren't enough planes. They were going into an area known to be teeming with anti-aircraft guns in broad daylight. He wanted to stop it, but he knew the mission was vital and he didn't know how to get around it.

Humphries's words echoed in his ears: cover all the angles, think of all the outcomes, and fight like hell. "I'm trying, Lewis, I'm trying," Dennison sighed. Absentmindedly, he fingered the eagles on his collar, a habit he had picked up after his promotion, as he constantly had to remind himself that it wasn't a dream. This time, the action made him think of the man who had been in this job before him, and for once he wished that Hogan's ghost really was right behind him. "What would you do to look after your men today, Colonel Hogan? What would you do?"

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"You wanted to see me, Kommandant?"

Klink looked up from his desk to see Hogan's head poked into the office, his hand still holding the doorknob. "Yes, yes, Hogan, come in," Klink said, standing. "Please shut the door."

Hogan did as he was told with a shrug and came to stand before the German's desk. Klink came around and moved in—too close, Hogan thought. Hogan shifted uncomfortably and tried not to look at Klink. "Something I can do for you, sir?" he asked.

"Major Oberholzer tells me you've been very… quiet," Klink began. Hogan frowned as Klink came around behind him and worked his way back to his desk. "He says you are not giving him many answers."

"He asks a lot of questions," Hogan said cautiously. "I don't have the answers to everything he wants to know."

"Hogan, the Major says he has no immediate plans to leave Stalag 13. He is under orders to question you until he sees fit to stop doing so." Klink waited; Hogan seemed to take the news without reaction. "I… want you to know that you are excused from roll calls while you are with Major Oberholzer."

"Isn't that nice?" Hogan replied sarcastically. "That way the Gestapo doesn't have any interruptions when it's playing Rough Boys in solitary."

Verdammt, Klink! the Kommandant thought to himself. Just admit to him that you want to see how he's holding up and be done with it, instead of aggravating him! "Hogan…"

"Yes?" Hogan's voice was challenging, angry.

Klink hesitated. "Make sure you see the medic if you need to when you are through with Oberholzer."

Hogan's tone changed as he absorbed the real meaning behind Klink's statement. "Thanks, Kommandant," Hogan muttered. "I'll keep it in mind. Right now, I think I just need to get some sleep."

"Then do so," Klink agreed, avoiding the angry red scrape emblazoned on Hogan's right cheek. "And if you are still asleep at roll call, I will have Schultz go into Barracks Two to make sure you are there."

Hogan nodded curtly, knowing appreciation was not what Klink wanted to hear. "Is there anything else you need, Kommandant?" he asked.

"Yes, Hogan. You promised me your men would do a complete service on my car; that has not yet been finished. Considering the circumstances, I'm willing to let that go for now, but I still want that done… when this business with Major Oberholzer is… through. Otherwise no extra writing paper next week as we agreed."

Hogan nodded, thinking how the last trip into Hammelburg to "fix" Klink's vehicle was how they had gotten the exact details of the plant to be bombed in the first place. "I already told you: the boys need more parts from Hammelburg. We couldn't get them all the last time we were there. When you let us go back, you'll have a perfectly running machine."

Klink gritted his teeth; his car never seemed to run "perfectly" for long after Hogan's ersatz mechanics were through with it. "For now," he sneered. "Hogan, your men are not the fine mechanics you make them out to be!"

"They're out of practice!" Hogan said defensively. "You see what it's like with only a couple of Kraut cars to work with, instead of the fine American cars that they keep in their driveways at home!"

Klink shook his head and waved away the argument dismissively, relieved that at least a small bit of normalcy had crept back into his relationship with the American. "Fine, fine. The trip will be organized, then. Have your men make up the list. You are dismissed."

Hogan turned to go, then hesitated and went back to Klink's desk. "Kommandant," he said expectantly.

Klink looked up from the paperwork he had plunged back into, to forget. "What is it, Hogan?"

"What's with the new creep? I mean, why didn't the Gestapo just send Feldkamp back for me?" Hogan asked, remembering rather unpleasant encounters he'd had with the Geheime Staatspolizei in the past. He didn't look forward to meeting with any of the interrogators; however, Oberholzer was disturbing him in a way he found difficult to cope with. The others had focused on Hogan's physical discomfort; Oberholzer was torturing his mind.

Klink studied Hogan's face for a moment, thrown by the idea that his senior POW officer might want back that monster Feldkamp instead of Oberholzer, who seemed, if nothing else, a bit more civilized. Oberholzer had not been nearly as physically aggressive as Feldkamp and his men had; indeed, Hogan seemed to be faring rather well. But then Klink's gaze returned to Hogan's eyes, and there he saw the results of the new Gestapo officer's visit. Whereas Hogan's eyes had always been bright and defiant, determined and still carrying a trace of wry humor, now, after the American's sessions with Oberholzer, the Kommandant realized that Hogan's eyes were distinctly duller, as though something inside him had been extinguished. Oberholzer was fighting his war in a whole different way, and it was beating Hogan, quickly.

Klink felt a twinge of sympathy. "I don't know, Hogan," he said with a shake of his head. He dropped his eyes back to his desk. "Go… get some sleep, and… just hope he goes away soon."

Klink didn't look up as Hogan left the office.

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"Message from London, Colonel."

Kinch spoke softly as he entered Hogan's quarters, not wanting to disturb him with anything about the operation at the moment, and yet knowing that Hogan had to be kept informed.

Hogan was resting, upright on the lower bunk with his eyes closed and using the wall as a headrest. He opened his eyes, looking no more awake than he had when his eyes were shut, and with a sigh looked back at the Sergeant. "What's going on, Kinch?" he asked.

Kinch winced at the weakness of Hogan's voice. "Allied Headquarters passes on thanks for the information about the munitions plant near Hammelburg and says they're planning to make quick work of it in three days." He paused. "They said you might be interested in knowing that they'll be sending the 504th to do it."

Hogan nodded but didn't answer, gently stretching clearly sore muscles. He flexed his fingers to try and offset the continued stinging in his wrists.

Kinch hesitated before saying more. "Colonel, you know Oberholzer is just trying to wear you down," he started awkwardly. You idiot. Of course he knows.

Hogan only nodded slightly. "That he is," he said softly.

"He'll say anything to get you to tell him what he wants," Kinch persisted. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Hogan smiled a little and closed his eyes again. He didn't want to have this conversation. "Maybe."

"Look. Colonel. You might not be in the air any more, but—"

"Kinch." The sudden strength of the Colonel's voice stopped the radio man. Hogan opened his eyes and sat up straight on the bunk. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'd really rather not talk about it, okay?" At Kinch's look of uncertainty, Hogan added, "I'll be all right. I just have to… get used to the way this goon operates. I'll be fine." Kinch simply watched his commanding officer. "I don't have to be in the air to have a good crew."

Kinch smiled, admiring Hogan's outer strength, while cursing the Colonel's inability to share his inner weakness and fear. But if he did, I wouldn't be able to walk out of here trying to convince myself that everything will be fine…. And that's what you want me to do, isn't it, Colonel? "Thanks, Colonel," Kinch replied. Then, determined to help support Hogan in the only way he could, the Sergeant added, "London also wants to know if we're still on track to blow up that munitions train scheduled to head east next week. Any message for them?"

Hogan considered. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "Tell them we're gonna have to lie low for awhile. I need some time to get around Oberholzer, and if he's aiming for the operation I want him to have as little ammunition as possible. If we don't get the train next week, we'll get the one scheduled to go after that. I don't want you fellas doing anything until this Kraut's gone. Got it?"

Kinch nodded. "Got it, Colonel."

"Good." Hogan ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his face with both hands. "I don't want to lose anyone else." He shook his head. "I'm going to sleep for awhile, Kinch. Wake me up in time for mess."

As Hogan lay down, Kinch tried to recover from the Colonel's words. Anyone else. That Kraut Major's getting to him. No, Colonel! Hang on! "Will do, sir," Kinch said quietly. "You get some good rest." And he backed out of the room, and worried.

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Hogan raised bloodshot eyes to the cell door as he heard it squeak open. He didn't know what time it was, unable to see his watch, as his wrists were held fast by restraints on the arms of the chair, and there was no window; just a bright, bare light bulb that had been on for hours, robbing him of any ability to sleep or even to rest. All he could do to escape was lower his head, which had left him with a very stiff neck, a headache he would only wish on his worst enemy, and an overwhelming weariness.

It was a clean and refreshed Oberholzer who entered. "Good morning, Colonel Hogan," he said cheerfully. "I trust you had a quiet night."

Hogan said nothing, chanting to himself that he would not rise to Oberholzer's clear attempts to goad him. But the Major would not accept silence today. "I said good morning, Colonel," he repeated more forcefully.

Hogan laughed to himself. Only the Gestapo could make a pleasant greeting sound like a threat. "Is that what time of day it is?" he finally answered. "I wasn't sure."

Oberholzer laughed loudly. Hogan flinched and turned his head away. "Of course; you wouldn't know would you?" The German laughed again.

"What do you want this time, Major?" Hogan asked. Hogan made the mistake of looking up again and this time saw the bare light. He squeezed his eyes shut as the brightness intensified the pounding in his head.

"The same as I have always wanted, Colonel Hogan," Oberholzer answered. "Tell me about the 504th."

Hogan let out a loud breath and shook his head slightly, still not opening his eyes. "Are you still on about that?" he asked. "I thought we agreed that you had no idea what you were talking about!"

"Enough!"

The shouted word echoed like thunder in the small room. Hogan breathed in and out through his mouth, to help soften the thumping inside his skull. He kept his head lowered, wondering if he had gone too far, and waited for the German's next move.

It was swift and harsh. Hogan felt his head being lifted by the hair and pulled back so the light was directly in his face. Eyes open or shut, Hogan could feel the glare of the bulb and a nausea building in his stomach as he felt his brain jerk around in his skull and then slam into his forehead from the inside. Aware that his wrists were shackled, he instinctively tried to kick away the Gestapo officer standing inches before him. But he failed, grimacing, as he was painfully reminded that his ankles were also restrained. Hogan swallowed the bile that rose into his throat, and panted as sweat ran down from his matted hair and stung his eyes.

"Is this what you want, Colonel Hogan?" Oberholzer growled through his teeth. He released Hogan's head with a violent shove. Hogan choked and then swallowed again, still panting and barely listening. "I thought we were well past this kind of physical intimidation." Oberholzer shook his head. He raised Hogan's face with his hand and gently fingered the scrape that his own ring had inflicted on the American's cheek. Hogan tried with all his strength not to react to the touch. The piercing light was overwhelming. "I am sorry about that scratch, Colonel," he said, shaking his head slightly with dismay. "I prefer not to leave marks." Oberholzer released his grip, and despite Hogan's best attempts, his head fell instantly. "Now. You may deny all you wish, Colonel Hogan, but our Intelligence is quite certain of your background, and it is on that information that I am basing my interrogation. You were the Commander of the 504th Bomb Group. You were given access to much secret information that even now can be valuable to us. You are involved in some rather… unorthodox activities, even now, as a prisoner or war. You will tell me what those activities are, and who helps you. You will submit, Colonel Hogan. Or you will suffer."

"Looks like a pretty sure bet either way," Hogan answered breathily, grateful that the restraints on his wrists stopped him from shaking excessively in front of his enemy.

Oberholzer cocked his head. "It might be, Colonel," he replied. "But that in the end is up to you. What is it to be?"

Damned Nazis. Damned Gestapo. Damned war! You won't get my men, in London… or in camp! Hogan clenched his fists and his jaw to steady himself. Then he looked past his now-ferocious headache and into Oberholzer's eyes. "Hogan, Robert E., Colonel, US Army Air Corps. Serial number 0876707. That's all I know. Sir."