Author's Note: Thank you to everyone whose read and reviewed and enjoyed this story. I'd like to give a big shout out to honu59 for being an amazing beta as always. Also, thanks to all the participants of the Hogan's Heroes Write-a-Thon in August - I had been working on this story on and off for around four years and got stuck around the halfway point and your support helped me finally finish the first draft and start posting. I am truly grateful to be part of such a awesome community.

Chapter Thirteen: Heroes

"Morning, General," Hogan said as he snapped off a quick salute and then took a seat where his CO was pointing.

General O'Malley looked exhausted as he stared at his charge from behind his desk. "Hogan, what am I supposed to do with you? You disobeyed a direct order, threatened a fellow officer, commandeered military property, took an unauthorized mission to Germany and risked the security of our remaining operations by putting yourself back within the enemy's reach."

Hogan couldn't help it; he flashed O'Malley one of his best grins and suggested, "Congratulate me on a job well done."

"Hogan!"

That familiar cry was music to his ears. But he resisted the temptation to continued teasing his superior and instead spoke the truth, "I'm not sorry, sir. I acted to save the lives of my men and I would do it again if necessary."

The General sighed. "That silver tongue and cocky attitude of yours was very useful when you used it against the Germans, but if you aren't careful, you're going to dig yourself a hole one day that not even I will be able to get you out of."

"Sir, I am grateful that you intervened with Allied Command on my behalf."

"You're welcome, but don't do it again. Especially not when I tell you Command's proposed solution for dealing with the sudden appearance of an entire camp of POWs."

Hogan didn't have to ask; he knew it would be bad. After all, it was the most obvious and tidy solution. "You want to keep them in prison."

O'Malley winced. "Not in prison. But they will be assigned to a remote, secluded base full of amenities, with orders to remain there until the end of the war."

"General, my men will not accept this. They are expecting permission to return home. And considering the skills my men have perfected over the last several years, I pity anyone charged with keeping them from their families."

"Colonel, some people might perceive that last statement as a threat."

Hogan took a deep breath and pushed down his anger. This wasn't Klink whom he could bully. "I'm just speaking the truth, sir."

"We could allow a few select men to "escape" in order to lend their skills to the war effort. No one is suggesting that a man of your talents be wasted by sitting on the sidelines."

"I will not abandon my men."

"I'm not asking you to."

Hogan's mind raced while considering his best path forward. He needed to convince the brass that his men deserved more than a pat on head and an order to go away quietly. Any agreement they came to would affect his men - for good or ill - for the rest of their lives. "General, I need you to understand that while carrying out our operations, many of my men engaged in activities that, if they became known, could reflect badly on them."

"You are referring to Corporal Newkirk's broadcast with Berlin Betty, I presume."

"Among others. LeBeau disobeyed an order from his commanding officer to return to fight to free France. Carter served a stint in the German army. Kinchloe and Baker performed tasks that my country will happily sweep under the rug rather than acknowledge the heroism of colored men. We are all guilty of fraternizing with the enemy. And plenty of men will judge us harshly simply for being prisoners of war. And if you send us from one prison to another, that's all my men will be - prisoners of war."

O'Malley looked sympathetic, but his tone remained firm. "I agree that your concerns are valid, but unless you are able to propose another solution, we don't have a choice."

"Good thing I have a plan, sir. All we need to do is tell the world the truth." Hogan held up a hand before the General could protest. "Not the whole truth, mind you. Just one small sliver of it."

"And what would that sliver be?"

"That we escaped."

It had only been a week, but Hans Schultz had decided that he liked being a prisoner of war more than being a guard. He no longer had to worry about managing guards, disciplining the prisoners or pleasing Klink. There was no more forcing reluctant men to get up in the morning, no middle of the night patrols to walk and, most importantly, no monkey business. He could nap whenever he wanted, ate better meals than he ever had in the camp mess, and was provided with plenty of paper to jot down his thoughts and plans.

The friendly man, John, who watched over him, had shown an interest in his drawings and Schultz was more than happy to share his designs for new toys. The guard had four children of his own and the two men spent hours talking about which designs they thought their children would like best.

It was only at night when the guards changed that Schultz was reminded that there was still a war being waged and he had no way of knowing how his wife and children were faring. He wondered what they believed. Had they heard that he was missing, that he had deserted, or did they believe that he was dead? Had he even been gone long enough for them to be concerned?

A knock on his cell door interrupted his thoughts. That was odd. His captors never knocked. Though to be fair, he had never knocked at Stalag Thirteen either. Curious, he said, "Come in." The door opened and Schultz smiled. "Colonel Hogan!"

"Hi, Schultz. They giving you enough to eat?"

"Oh, the food is wunderbar. But do you think it would be possible for LeBeau to make some strudel?"

Hogan laughed. "LeBeau's been barred from the kitchen. The locals aren't too happy with his opinions on British cuisine."

"That's too bad." Then leaning in conspiratorially, he said, "I know I shouldn't ask, but did you hear about Kinchloe and the others?"

"I ate breakfast with Kinch this morning. Everyone made it out safely."

"I'm glad." He wanted to ask about his men, but he knew that even if Hogan somehow knew what became of them, he would never tell.

Hogan walked over and began rifling through the papers on the table. "Your guard says you've been busy making plans for after the war."

Schultz grabbed his favorite - designs for a new line of wooden toys - and held it out to the American. "Do you want to see? It will take time to convert the factory back over, but once we do, I hope to get operations up and running. I want to see children playing again."

"That would be nice," Hogan admitted. "But first we need to end this war and I'm told you turned down a job offer to help us."

Schultz winced; John had brought up the possibility the other day, but he had responded by asking the Englishman if he was interested running a Schatze Toy Shop in London. Hogan, however, would not be so easily distracted so he settled for the truth, "I am not made for war."

"You weren't much of a guard, but I've read your record; your service in the last war was commendable."

He hated the way Hogan's compliments lifted his pride. He knew what the American was doing. And if he wasn't careful, he would fall for it, just as he had so many times before. "Colonel Hogan, please. If you wanted to, you could make me do what I do not want to do. And I do not want to fight anyone."

The American looked taken aback at that statement. He paused for a few moments to collect his thoughts before saying, "Alright, Schultz, no pressure. It's just that with all the things you choose not to see or hear or know, we wondered..."

"Colonel Hogan, you are not my enemy. Germany is not my enemy. I do not believe in taking sides." He had to make the officer understand.

Hogan sighed. "If you are sure this is what you want then I won't ask again."

"Thank you, Colonel."

Setting down the papers he had been pursuing, Hogan changed the subject. "There's some debate over sending you to a regular POW camp. I doubt you'd want to spend the rest of the war in solitary, but we both know that you knew more than you ever let on."

He did not want that either. "Colonel Hogan, tell them I will say nothing. I know-"

"Nothing," Hogan interrupted. "I will, Schultz." He rose and walked to the door. But before he left, the American turned and said, "Thank you for taking good care of my men. You were the best guard a POW could ever ask for."

Colonel Wilhelm Klink, former Kommandant of Stalag Thirteen, sat listlessly on the edge of his cot. He couldn't bring himself to get up. He was unmotivated to read the German books his captors left him or write on the papers piled on the table. Instead, he stared out the window, listening to the sounds of the airbase and wondering where everything had gone wrong. But it didn't matter how long he sat there, the answer never came.

His misery was interrupted by the sound of keys jingling as they were inserted into the lock. He watched his cell door open and the architect of his downfall walk inside.

"Colonel Hogan, have you come to gloat?"

The American officer sat down in a chair and set a box on the table. "No, I came to ask if you'd like to play a game of chess."

Part of him wanted to say yes, but every time Hogan had ever approached him, it was because he wanted something. And knowing that he was incapable of ascertaining his enemy's motives, Klink decided that it was best not to reply.

After setting up the board, Hogan ordered, "Play, Colonel. Take it from an experienced prisoner - you'll go crazy if you just mope around all day."

Klink huffed. "You never just sat around. You were always getting me into trouble."

"And who always made sure to get you out of trouble?"

"Out of trouble?" Klink rose to his feet and gestured at the cell surrounding him. "You ruined my career. My record! You let me believe you were tame and then played me for a fool."

"Colonel..." Hogan paused. "Wilhelm, I don't believe you are a fool. You were afraid and full of pride, but not a fool. And the truth is that the only reason Stalag Thirteen worked as well as it did was because you were also a good man."

Out of all the things for which Klink expected to be condemned, being too nice was not high on that list. He didn't like the direction this conversation was heading. "What do you want?"

"Sorry?"

"Colonel Hogan, you always want something."

"You're right, I do. I'm supposed to speak with you about doing some work for our side."

"I won't betray my country," Klink insisted.

"I never thought you would, sir."

"Then why are you really here?"

"To ask why."

Klink didn't have to ask for clarification. Not when he had asked himself the same question a dozen times a day. Why had he chosen to overlook all the strange occurrences at Stalag Thirteen? Why had he allowed himself to be so easily misled? Why had he let everything happen?

He wasn't a traitor. He wasn't a fool. But he had chosen time and time again to believe Hogan's explanations, to convince himself that he was in control and that as long as all the prisoners were present, everything else was fine. And now as he stood in that cell staring at his enemy, Klink finally allowed himself to admit that he knew the answer. He had known it all along. "I wanted to believe it was true."

Hogan nodded in understanding. "Thank you, sir." Then gesturing towards the board, he said,

"Sit."

The German sat but he didn't touch the pieces. Looking up at his enemy, he realized that he, too, needed to ask the same question. "Why?"

"Those late nights in your office was a kindness you didn't have to give me; I want to return the favor."

Could it really be? A genuine offer. Would he ever really know? Even though it was his greatest fault, he chose to believe that the offer of friendship was real. So Klink reached out a hand, picked up a white pawn and moved it forward.

Hogan knew immediately that something was up from the second that he walked into the mess hall and noticed his men waiting for him to appear. His main team was huddled in a circle and he saw newspapers changing hands. His heart began to race. What had the reporters said? Had they honored his wishes?

Kinch spotted him first. "Colonel, catch!"

He caught the paper tossed his way and immediately read the headline:

HOGAN'S HEROES

Hogan bit back a curse. Who in his right mind had approved that headline? Then looking at the cover photo, he was pleased to see that it was a picture of him with Kinch, Carter, Newkirk, LeBeau and Baker. At least they had listened to him about something. Even though he was afraid of what else the article would say, there was only one way to find out.

A group of POWs, led by Colonel Robert Hogan of the USAAF, organized and carried out a mass escape of prisoners from Camp Thirteen. Almost three hundred men made the perilous journey from Germany to England.

General O'Malley of the Allied Command said it was the first time in military history that an escape of this magnitude had been accomplished successfully. "We are proud of the courage of our fighting men who choose to risk their lives to deal a devastating blow to our enemies. We hope that their story will serve as an inspiration to our forces on the front lines and at home.

Hogan was assisted by an international team of men including Technical Sergeant Andrew Carter, Staff Sergeant James Kinchloe and Staff Sergeant Richard Baker of the USAAF, Corporal Peter Newkirk of the RAF and Corporal Louis LeBeau of the Free French Forces.

The remainder of the article summarized the rest of the official story: that they were a group of POWs who banded together, dug a tunnel, built a radio (he was very pleased to see that both Kinch and Baker had been given their due for that) and organized a mass escape by plane to London. There was no mention of the Underground or any hints that the men were more than just escaped prisoners. They were only described as a determined and resourceful group of men who pulled off an escape previously thought impossible.

The only major player missing from the article was Olsen. But that wasn't too surprising as he had spotted the former POW meeting with various Intelligence officers. He would not be surprised if one day he learned that his friend had chosen to return to Germany.

"Officers!" Newkirk exclaimed as he waved his paper in front of his CO. "They always take the credit."

"They called us heroes!" Carter shouted in delight.

"Hogan's heroes," LeBeau mocked.

Hogan groaned. "If I hear that phrase out of anyone's mouth again, he's going to be on KP for the rest of the war."

"A little late for that, sir," Baker said with a grin.

Kinch skimmed through his own copy. "Imagine what the folks back home will say when they see this."

"It'll be weird," Newkirk admitted. "Biscuit?" he asked, holding out a bag, one of many parcels of food his family had given to him when he had been granted permission to visit yesterday. "Mavis is going to go right around the bend when she finds out I hid this from her."

"It's strange," Baker said as he munched on a cookie. "After everything we've been through, we're going to be famous for escaping."

The irony did not escape Hogan either. Because the truth was that his men were heroes, and a large part of what made them heroic was that they had chosen to stay in Stalag Thirteen. Their evacuation signaled a failure of their larger mission; though a failure that they had somehow salvaged into a morale-boosting piece of propaganda.

"Do you think we'll meet the President?" Carter asked.

"Carter!" LeBeau exclaimed.

"What? We're famous now, right? We're not going to be able to go home and pretend like nothing happened."

"You're not wrong, Carter," Hogan said. He could picture the tours and the interviews already. He was going to have to fight to be stationed somewhere useful.

Kinch's eyes twinkled with mischief when he met his CO's gaze. "What do we do now, sir?'

Hogan grinned. "Briefings are over, nondisclosures signed and ... I believe, Newkirk, you promised us a pint at your favorite pub."

"The first round is on me," the Englishman replied.

"I'll buy the second," Carter said.

LeBeau, however, looked skeptical. "Does this place have decent food?"

"Decent? I have you know that you'll never eat a better meal than the one you get at a proper English pub."

Hogan smiled while his men laughed and continued their banter. It was hard to believe that in just a few days, they would go their separate ways. That in time, the years in Stalag Thirteen would become nothing more than a memory.

But as Hogan surrounded himself with the men he considered family, a sudden thought entered his mind. When he had uttered the code phrase in Klink's office that fateful day, he had truly believed that the words of that the familiar rhyme had come true and that no one would be able put his team back together again. But he was wrong. With some help from the king's men, but mostly their own courage and wit, the heroes of Stalag Thirteen had carried out one last impossible mission: they had put Humpty Dumpty back together again.