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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"Here's the water, Colonel," Carter said, handing a cup to Hogan.

Hogan took the offering and swallowed the two aspirins he had ready and waiting. "Thanks," he said. He took a long drink and handed the cup back to the young Sergeant. He rubbed his drawn face tiredly.

"Are you sure we can't get a medicine drop from London for you?" Carter asked, the only time he'd voiced the much-thought wish out loud. "I mean if you don't like what Joe has, maybe Headquarters could—"

"I need to know what's going on," Hogan said with a slight shake of his head.

Carter nodded reluctant agreement. "Well, you should at least take a nap, Colonel," he suggested, noting Hogan's glassy eyes.

"Love to, Carter, but I can't do that right now," Hogan answered. He leaned back against the blanket he was still using to cushion his tender back muscles, wincing slightly as he did so. "There's too much to do."

"There is?"

"Mmhmm." Hogan stifled a yawn. "Klink's up to his eyeballs in paperwork and brass. And London's waiting for something brilliant from us to help ready Bomber Command to drop their balloons over Berlin."

"I suppose," Carter agreed. "You know, it's too bad we can't use those two fellas from Berlin somehow. I mean, that'd be perfect, wouldn't it?" he asked.

Hogan nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, but the question is how?" he replied. "We've got one bean-counter and one pencil-pusher and one rather wobbly Kommandant. The only thing those men listen to is themselves, and they're not saying much." He paused, just a beat, as an idea rushed through his brain. "Unless…" Carter watched, fascinated, as Hogan's eyes seemed to suddenly focus on something in the distance. The Colonel abruptly snapped back into the room. "I need some time to think about this. Carter, where's Schafer now?"

"I'm not sure, Colonel."

Just then Le Beau and Newkirk walked into Hogan's office. "That Captain Lehmann is on his way over here, Colonel. We just saw him leave Klink's office," Le Beau reported.

Hogan nodded. "Well, that's one headache out of Klink's way for a few minutes. Can you keep Lehmann occupied for a little while to give Klink a break?"

Newkirk nodded. "Anything you say, gov'nor." And they were gone.

"Carter?"

"Yes, Colonel?"

Hogan looked into Carter's eager, willing eyes, and for just the briefest second his mind flashed back to his—imagined?—conversation with Kleinschmidt about the young demolitions expert. Hogan had told the German that Carter could manage to stay positive anywhere, in almost any circumstances. He felt a measure of mental anguish at the memory, mixed with a strangely calming knowledge that he had been right—at least about Carter. He looked again at the man before him.

"Yes, Colonel?" Carter repeated.

Hogan hesitated, then let out a breath. "Just… make sure those two don't get carried away," he said, quite sure that those were not the words he intended to say.

Carter grinned. "That'll be hard with someone like Newkirk, sir," he said. "But I'll try."

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A few minutes later, chaos was reigning in Barracks Two. "But you see, I only have the one cup, sir!" Newkirk was calling over the ceaseless racket around him. Lehmann had come to the barracks trailed by Sergeant Schultz, and was casually making his way around the common room, picking up and moving around things at a leisurely pace. The men in the hut were doing everything they could to keep the Captain occupied, with Schultz calling out hopelessly for the prisoners to be nice to the visitor and let him get on with his job.

"Schultzie! Schultzie!" Le Beau was waving from his bunk. "Let the nice Kraut look at the way we live! Here," he said, throwing a threadbare towel toward the guard and watching it land on the barrel of his rifle, "let him use my very best towel to wash up with!"

"Yeah, before he sits down to a nice, cold cup of acorns—I mean, coffee!" called Goldman from the table.

"I've saved a seat for you right here, Captain!" Carter said, patting the bench beside him.

"Boys, boys!" Schultz called, trying desperately to be heard. "Please. Captain Lehmann is just trying to count what you have; he does not want to wash up or have coffee!"

"That's a shame," Newkirk said, shaking his head. He came around so he was almost on top of the visitor. "I thought he might like a bit of the real camp experience, you know?" He patted his stomach. "Nothing like a touch of the ol' indigestion to make you feel right at home in the Stalag!"

Lehmann pulled away, his mouth turned down in a disgusted frown. "I am not interested in a 'camp experience,'" he said curtly. He turned to Schultz. "And I suggest that you bring these prisoners under control, Sergeant!"

"Jawohl, Herr Captain," Schultz said, unhappy about being chastised, and embarrassed that he hadn't thought of getting the prisoners to obey on his own. He shook his head at the men, looking more like a disappointed parent than a dangerous prison guard, then, noting the look of surprise and disdain on Lehmann's face, he frowned and tried to look stern. "The prisoners are to come to order and allow the Captain to do his work!" he called. He waved his rifle around, even though he only held it by the barrel, so it looked more like a baton than a weapon. "You will show him what he needs to see, and you will behave!" He let the butt of the rifle rest on the ground as his face and voice melted into a pleading whole. "Bitte?"

Carter glanced guiltily at the others, who were also exchanging contrite looks as they weighed up their limited options. Colonel Hogan wanted Lehmann tied up and kept away from Klink for awhile. Lehmann himself was clearly not interested in anything but business. And getting Schultz into trouble could mean serious trouble for the operation.

Newkirk was the first to speak once the commotion had died down. "We didn't mean anything by it, Schultzie. You know we just get excited when visitors come to town."

"Yeah—life gets pretty dull around here," Kinch said, coming up behind Carter and propping his foot up on the bench. "When someone finally shows up, we want to show off a little bit."

"Show off?" Lehmann echoed, shaking his head. "You are acting like a cage full of monkeys. That is hardly showing off!"

Carter shrugged. "Gee, I dunno about that; the monkeys in the zoo I used to go to back home always jumped around a lot, and the zookeeper always told us they were showing off."

Kinch lowered his head and tried to hide a smile behind his moustache.

Lehmann waved away the explanation. "I have seen enough in here," he said, turning abruptly and heading toward Hogan's office. "What is behind this door?"

Hogan's men immediately leapt up and scrambled for the office. Schultz backed up toward the door to the barracks, not wanting to get trampled, and tried to call out over the sound of heavy footsteps and benches scraping across the floor.

"You don't want to go in there, Captain," Kinch tried to stop the German.

"No, Captain, there's nothing in there for you," Newkirk agreed.

"Nothing at all!" Carter piped up.

"Oui, you would be bored in there," Le Beau predicted.

Lehman stopped, drew himself up straight, and glared at the men. Then he turned an angry eye on Schultz. "What is in there, Sergeant?" he asked.

Schultz, who had drawn himself to attention, let his shoulders drop. "Herr Captain, that is Colonel Hogan's quarters. He is the senior prisoner of war in camp." Noting the looks on the faces of the residents of the barracks, he added, "He is… probably resting. He was hurt in a car accident and is still getting better."

"Well, then, he won't mind a little company," Lehmann said, and, looking determinedly at Hogan's men, he pushed his way past into the Colonel's quarters.

As they had with Schafer, Hogan's men crowded into the room behind the German. Only this time, Hogan wasn't sleeping. He was sitting up in the bed, much the way Carter had left him, holding a book with his right hand. He frowned at the intrusion and let the book down gently on his blanket-covered legs. "Doesn't anyone in this hotel pay attention to the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door?" he quipped. Any trace of humor that might have accompanied the question was markedly absent.

Lehmann came further into the room and approached the American officer. "You are Colonel Hogan," he said. His eyes ran up and down the bed, up along the upper bunk, around the room.

Hogan straightened in his bunk. "I could have told you that," he answered sourly. "It's you who's the stranger around here. Who are you?"

"I am Captain Lehmann, Colonel. Central Supply. I am here conducting an audit on your Kommandant, Wilhelm Klink."

"Well, there's only one of him," Hogan answered humorlessly.

"Thank Heaven for that, sir," came Newkirk's voice. He shrugged apologetically when Hogan looked his way.

Hogan looked back at Lehmann. "Satisfied?"

Lehmann smiled thinly. "Hardly," he replied, still staring down at Hogan. Hogan did not look away. "I hear you were in an unfortunate car crash," he said.

Hogan's eyes fell. "There's rarely a fortunate one," he answered softly.

Lehmann ignored the sarcasm. "I understand from Major Schafer that a fine young German soldier lost his life, while you… you, Colonel Hogan, lived."

Hogan said nothing. Lehmann furrowed his brow. "Colonel Hogan—is that a blanket behind you?"

Hogan took a slow, disinterested look behind him. "Well, would you look at that?" he said, his tone filled with slow irony. "I thought it was my feather pillow." He raised an eyebrow, then looked back at Lehmann. "The maid must have taken it when she changed the towels this morning."

Lehmann raised his chin. "The regulation is one blanket per prisoner, Colonel Hogan. You are using two."

A deadly silence fell over the room. "I have two bunks," Hogan said.

Schultz looked from one officer to the other. "Herr Captain, because of Colonel Hogan's injuries—" he began nervously.

Lehmann ignored him. "Nevertheless, Colonel, you are only one man. One man; one blanket. That is the allotment allowed."

Hogan's men seethed with barely concealed rage from behind the German. First, an enemy officer was trying to use Hogan as a propaganda piece—and now, another one was trying to humiliate the Colonel because he was still recovering from the accident that had nearly killed him! They glared at the Captain, shifting with an angry energy that Hogan couldn't help but notice. He glanced in their direction but did not address them.

"And so what do you suggest, Captain?" Hogan asked thinly.

"I do not suggest anything to prisoners, Colonel Hogan," Lehmann answered. "The allowed distribution is one blanket per prisoner. You have two; therefore, you are breaching regulations, as well as depriving another man of his entitlement."

At that, Hogan, with difficulty, pulled himself to a sitting position. Slowly, smoothly, and never taking his eyes off the Captain, he reached behind him and drew the rolled-up blanket out from the bunk. Without looking to see where it landed, he pushed it onto the floor, then used his right hand to keep himself propped up on the bed. "Now Klink passes your audit," he said, his voice low, and dangerous. His eyes, smoldering with fire, were nevertheless lifeless. A long mutual stare passed between the two men. "So get out."

A tiny, triumphant, infuriating smile curled its way onto Lehmann's lips. Reaching down, he bundled up the extra blanket and nodded once in Hogan's direction before turning toward the door, where Hogan's men formed a solid wall in front of the German. Almost as one they moved aside, not trusting themselves to speak, or to look at their commanding officer. "Thank you, Colonel," Lehmann said, looking back at Hogan, whose face was as stony as his men's; "now some other poor, unfortunate man can also be warm this winter. And that is what you want, isn't it?"

The muscles in Hogan's jaw tensed as he struggled to keep his silence. He watched Lehmann depart, and his men and Schultz follow him. Then he let go of the breath he had been unconsciously holding and melted back down onto the bunk.