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 looked at the array of objects spread before him on the desk as Newkirk, Le Beau and Carter shuffled around Klink's office, making themselves look busy with the work of dusting and sweeping. So many items, small things that were a prisoner's simple comforts, poor men's luxuries: a small blanket, a plate, even a picture frame. Some of these things couldn't have come from camp supplies; they were simply taken to make some man's life that much more barren. Hogan swallowed the burning anger rising within him and turned with false brightness to Lehmann.

"That's quite a treasure trove you've collected there, Captain," Hogan declared, his voice somehow conveying immense admiration and respect. Newkirk, knowing how the Colonel would feel seeing the items, rolled his eyes toward the ceiling when he was sure no one was watching him. He shook his head in wonder as Hogan then said with a laugh that invited Lehmann to join in, "I didn't realize the men were such good hunters and gatherers."

Lehmann did not accept the invitation. "You mean thieves," he sniffed, tossing a tin cup carelessly back on the pile.

Hogan frowned. "Now, Captain, I must protest that sort of language—you don't know that the guards didn't just give the men those things!"

"Give?" Lehmann let out a short bark of a laugh. "I hardly think the guard would have given the prisoners a set of brass candlesticks!"

"A gift from home!" Hogan persisted. "Oh, sorry, Le Beau," he said. Hogan moved away from the desk as the Frenchman came by with the feather duster, prompting Lehmann to turn to face the Colonel. Now sure Lehmann's attention was fully on him, Hogan offered a clandestine nod to his men, who began pocketing several items from the cache, including cutlery, writing paper, candles, and even, underneath Carter's bulky fleece jacket, a coffee pot. Hogan barely missed a beat as he added, "I want you to know there are no hard feelings."

Lehmann raised his eyebrows in surprise. Newkirk spied the documents he needed to reach on Klink's desk and was about to add the doctored letter to the pile, when the German unexpectedly leaned back and laid his hand on top of them. Newkirk immediately jerked back and shot a worried look at Hogan, who saw everything.

"I must say I am surprised to hear you say that, Colonel," Lehmann said. "I would have thought—well, after our first meeting in your barracks…"

"Ancient history," Hogan announced, waving the confrontation away with his cane. Suddenly he seemed to lose his balance, and he pitched forward, his cane clattering to the floor. "Oop—!"

"Colonel!" Lehmann instantly sprang up to catch Hogan before he landed on his face. Hogan accepted the support from Lehmann, leaning heavily as though slow to recover from his misfortune. He watched secretively as Newkirk took the opportunity to slip his paper into the sheaf now freed from Lehmann's hand, then straightened and slipped another object under his jacket.

Hogan took the cane the Captain had retrieved from the floor and nodded gratefully in the German's direction. "Thanks," he said, brushing himself off. "Must have gotten a little too confident. I hate having to use this thing, but I guess I don't have much choice," he confided with an embarrassed laugh.

"You must be more careful, Colonel," Lehmann advised, not noticing when Hogan's eyes met Newkirk's. The Englishman nodded as he slipped something else out of sight. "From what Colonel Klink says, you are still not at all a well man."

"No, no, I suppose I'm not," Hogan agreed. "Anyway, I'm glad we've cleared the air, Captain. I just wasn't doing very well when we first met, and I didn't want you to leave with a bad impression."

Lehmann smiled. "That's very big of you, Colonel Hogan," he said, finally releasing Hogan's arm now that he was certain the American was steady on his feet.

"Good, good." Hogan's eyes made a quick sweep of the room. "Okay, fellas, that's enough cleaning for now. Let's get out of the Captain's way so he can finish his job."

Carter, Le Beau and Newkirk noisily agreed and worked their way slowly out of the office, as Hogan bade Lehmann goodbye.

Hogan left with a small degree of satisfaction. So far, so good.

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Schafer leaned in closer. "And Colonel Hogan was talking non-stop when you reached him inside the car?"

Newkirk leaned back a bit from the common room table. No matter how willing he was to follow Hogan's order to cooperate with the Major, the Colonel hadn't ordered anyone to enjoy it. "Well, not non-stop," Newkirk amended thoughtfully. "Just… really insistent-like. Like there was something really important he had to tell us, and he wanted to make sure we understood."

"Really?" Schafer breathed, entranced.

Newkirk nodded. "Yes, it was really strange. There he was, barely hanging on to life, and yet he was carrying on about what we thought at the time was bloody nonsense."

"Nonsense…" Schafer repeated while writing in his notebook. "What was he saying?"

"Well, now, a lot of it was hard to figure out," Newkirk replied. "He wasn't even fully conscious, you know."

This only stoked the German's interest. "Did he know that anyone was there when he was talking?"

Newkirk shrugged. "I'm not sure. But he was so anxious—you could say almost frantic."

"Could you make out any of it?"

"Bits and pieces," Newkirk replied. "Mostly ramblings about Kleinschmidt—you know, the Kraut—I mean, the guard—that was in the car with him."

Schafer nodded. "Anything else?"

"Hmm," Newkirk said, pretending to ponder the question. "I don't think so."

Carter tapped Newkirk's arm from beside him. "What about that other stuff—you know, about the attacks on Stuttgart, Bremen, Berlin—all that stuff?"

Newkirk turned to the Sergeant and nodded. "Oh, that's right—I forgot about that."

"Berlin? What did he say?" Schafer asked eagerly.

Newkirk frowned, "Oh, I can't remember now, Major. It was over three weeks ago. And to be quite honest, that's a nightmare I'd rather forget." That much is true, anyway, you bloody Kraut.

Schafer nodded. "Oh," he said, disappointed. Then, reluctantly, he added, "Well, I can understand that."

"Oh, now, hang on a minute," Newkirk said, as though a sudden burst of inspiration had hit him; "there was an official report made about the whole mess. You know, there had to be. Letters to Berlin, the whole lot—Kommandant Klink brought the Colonel to the hospital, and I remember him saying the gov'nor was still muttering about things. Probably would have written it all down, you know—he's a right efficient old eagle, our Kommandant. I'll bet there's something in his office about it."

Schafer looked up from his notebook, his hope renewed. "You're probably right!" he exclaimed. "I'll have to discuss this with the Kommandant."

"Oh, well, you probably don't have to bother the Kommandant," Carter said quickly. "Colonel Hogan said Captain Lehmann has got all the Kommandant's reports and correspondence to study for himself. It's probably all in his pile somewhere."

Schafer nodded. "That's fantastic." He smiled, a broad genuine smile. "Danke schoen, gentlemen, for your cooperation. This is a most extraordinary story, as you can well imagine."

Oh, we've imagined, all right, Newkirk thought as a slow smile spread across his face. The gov'nor's imagined all sorts of things, just for you. "Yes… yes, it is."

Schafer stood up. "So, where is Colonel Hogan? I still want to speak with him about this. Kommandant Klink said the Colonel was willing to sit down with me."

"He's in his office," Newkirk said, also rising. He led the way to Hogan's quarters, with Carter bringing up the rear. "Now, I must warn you, Major, this is very hard for the Colonel to talk about. You'd best not question what he says or he'll get very upset."

Schafer shook his head as his eyes widened. "I won't." He put a hand up to stop Newkirk before he knocked on the door. "I thought Colonel Hogan didn't believe any of this himself."

Newkirk shook his head dismissively. "He was just resisting the truth, Major. We all know what really happened out there."

Schafer nodded knowingly. "Right." He let go of Newkirk's arm.

The Englishman took a breath and then knocked on Hogan's door. "Colonel Hogan, sir. You have a visitor."

Newkirk opened the door and let Schafer and Carter pass in before him, and when he followed, the half-smile on his face disappeared. Hogan was upright on the bottom bunk, but he looked pale and strained and was clearly in pain. He was gripping his leg, alternately biting his lip and taking short, gasping breaths. He glanced up grimly when the three men entered.

Hogan's men forgot all about Schafer and came to the Colonel's side. Newkirk nearly called the whole plan off when he saw the perspiration coating the officer's face; Hogan wasn't putting on an act. "Gov'nor?"

Hogan just shook his head stiffly and looked up at Schafer. "Glad you could make it," he said between breaths.

Schafer hesitated when Hogan raised his chin to offer him a seat on the stool near the desk. "Perhaps this is a bad time for you, Colonel. I—"

"It's fine," Hogan shot back. He took a few breaths through gritted teeth, then looked at Newkirk's worried face. "It's fine," he repeated.

Newkirk didn't lose his anxious look. He glanced over at Carter, who seemed unsure how to proceed, then asked softly, "Colonel, do you want some of those pills that Klink got from the hospital?"

Even as the words left his mouth, Newkirk knew Hogan was going to react badly. The Colonel shot him a look that nearly shriveled the Corporal where he stood. Newkirk swallowed. It was the wrong thing to suggest, and he knew it. But he couldn't help but want to end Hogan's suffering right now, and he knew the spurned pills were the only thing that had given the officer any real relief. Hogan didn't answer, his eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, now fixed in concentration. Understanding, Newkirk straightened and said softly, "We'll… get you some aspirin, sir."

Hogan nodded once, then turned to Schafer. "So, you want to know about the accident."

Schafer was glad of the opportunity to break the tension in the room. "Yes, Colonel Hogan. It was most unfortunate."

"There's that word again," Hogan muttered, as Newkirk came back to him with the pills. Hogan took two aspirins out of the bottle and put them in his mouth, then accepted a cup of water from Carter and took a long drink. "Thanks," he said to Newkirk, his eyes conveying an apology that right now he could not express.

Newkirk nodded. "It's all right, gov'nor," he said in response to both Hogan's spoken and unspoken words. He took back the bottle and the cup. You don't have to explain. This has got to be a bloody hard thing for you to do.

Hogan turned back to Schafer and visibly turned his attention away from his pain. "From what I was told, when I was brought back to camp after the accident, Colonel Klink ordered that I be taken to the hospital immediately," he said matter-of-factly.

"Your injuries were quite serious, then," Schafer said.

Newkirk rolled his eyes. Stupid Kraut, he thought. What d'you think this was just about when we walked in? A hangnail?

"Yes," Hogan said, shooting a look at Newkirk, who he knew would be thinking the same thing he was. "They kept me there for a week."

Schafer nodded and leaned forward. "And what was it like, in the hospital?"

Hogan bit his lip and took a slow, measured breath. Then he tried to shrug casually as he replied, "I don't really remember. I was sedated some of the time, half out of my head in pain the rest."

"But the doctors treated you well, respectfully," Schafer prompted.

"I couldn't tell you," Hogan answered. "All I know is Klink took one look at me when I got back to camp and turned the truck around to go to the hospital. When I finally came into myself, I was in a hospital bed with a nurse that looked like Winston Churchill hovering over me."

Carter unsuccessfully smothered a laugh. Newkirk's eyes twinkled.

"I'd have married her, too," Hogan said, ignoring the German's perplexed look, "as long as she promised to keep wiping my face with that wonderful, cool, wet cloth."

"I see." Schafer took a few more notes, then lowered his voice. "I'd like to ask you about the accident itself, Colonel Hogan. So I can get a fuller understanding of things. Would that be all right?"

"Ask away," Hogan replied. Carter and Newkirk watched their commanding officer steel himself for the coming interrogation. An untrained eye would have spotted nothing. But to those who lived and worked so closely with Hogan, the signs were unmissable. Hogan took in a deep—yet, this time, shuddering, his men noticed—breath; he raised his chin; he swallowed purposefully. And his eyes became fixed and—not cold, Carter realized, but—guarded. Yes, that was it: guarded. As if he had to protect himself from whatever was going to come at him.

Schafer began carefully. "Tell me what happened that day, Colonel," he said gently.

Hogan nodded. "Corporal Kleinschmidt and I were going to scout out an area for firewood for the camp. There's… not a lot of good wood around here, and it's my responsibility to make sure the men have adequate heating in the winter. German winters can be quite cold," he said. "Even slightly west of the Russian front."

Schafer nodded, still writing.

"I don't remember exact details—apparently, we didn't get very far. Colonel Klink told me that the investigation into the crash showed Kleinschmidt simply ran off the road—poor conditions, lack of experience… all that."

"Yes, yes," Schafer agreed. He stopped writing. "What happened in the car, Colonel?"

Hogan grimaced and rode out a burst of pain from the red-hot poker that seemed to be incessantly twisting itself in his leg. "We waited to be rescued. I waited to be rescued," he amended. He looked fleetingly at Carter. The Sergeant was looking back at him intently. Hogan turned away.

"What did you do, while you waited?"

"There wasn't much I could do," Hogan replied. "I was trapped in the car. Kleinschmidt was—" His voice caught in his throat. Hogan swallowed. "Kleinschmidt was dead. All I could do was wait. And pray."

Carter frowned. Newkirk raised an eyebrow. There was an interminably long silence as Schafer scribbled in his notebook. "When you were found, Colonel Hogan… you said Corporal Kleinschmidt told you many things about himself while you were waiting for rescue. Things that were proven correct later on."

Hogan felt his throat constricting. "I was delirious," he blurted out. "I didn't know what I was saying." You are denying me….

"What about the talk about Stuttgart… and Berlin?"

Hogan looked sharply at the Major. "What about it?" he asked.

Schafer nearly jumped, startled by Hogan's intensity. Then he smiled and relaxed. "Well, Colonel—they say you were talking about German towns… while you were… delirious."

"That wouldn't be so unusual," Hogan countered. "I am in Germany, after all."

Carter was torn. Hogan was not saying any of the things they had discussed in his quarters before this began. "Selling" Schafer on the story about Berlin meant revealing the details of the time the Colonel was trapped in the car, which Hogan was clearly not doing now. Perhaps he had decided to go down a different path to get the same results? Instinct told Carter that wasn't the case. He tried to catch Hogan's eye. Well, he can always ignore me if he wants to, so... "Uh—Colonel, I hope you won't mind me saying so, but… well, I think you should tell the Major the truth about what happened that day."

Hogan looked up into Carter's eyes, and Carter's heart nearly broke in two. Hogan was plainly still struggling fiercely with the decision he had made to speak about his ordeal, even with some details altered to suit his own purposes. At that moment, Carter realized, Hogan was afraid. Not of some German officer trying to use him, not of failing in their mission to pave the way for the Allied bombing of Berlin. But of himself. "Tell the Major the truth, Colonel," Carter urged gently.

Hogan nodded mutely, then looked down at the floor. "I didn't think Kleinschmidt was dead," he whispered. Schafer leaned in closer to hear. Carter and Newkirk looked at each other, then simply watched as events unfolded. "He talked to me. If he hadn't been there to keep me talking, I don't think I would have survived till we were found."

"What did he say to you, Colonel?" Schafer asked softly.

"He told me about his family. He told me he had a brother and two sisters, and that his parents were… waiting for him," Hogan said emotionlessly. His staring eyes saw nothing, no one in the room. "He told me his name was Gunter, and he asked me about my men here in camp. He kept waking me up when I wanted to sleep. He said we both needed him to be stubborn, and that talking was making what was happening less frightening." A long pause. "He said I would be all right," Hogan said finally, quietly. "That war couldn't keep a good man down forever." Hogan closed his eyes, as tears built up behind them that he could not shed.

Carter was finding it difficult to see through the blurry vision his emotions had created. Still watching Hogan intently, he could see Newkirk out of the corner of his eye, shifting his feet uncomfortably, unsure what to do. Schafer was writing non-stop. Then suddenly, Hogan's voice, now stronger and more in control, broke the awkward silence.

"Yes, he told me lots of things," Hogan said, with a small, acknowledging nod toward Carter. "He told me the Allies were planning an attack on Stuttgart—and another attack on Bremen. Both of which, I have been told, happened."

"There were attacks on those two cities in the last two weeks, Colonel Hogan," Schafer confirmed. "Are you saying that Kleinschmidt told you about them before they happened?"

"That's right," Hogan answered, now sounding more self-assured. "He told me all about them."

"What else did he tell you, Colonel?" Schafer asked, barely stopping to breathe as he wrote.

Hogan shrugged. "I feel uncomfortable telling you this," he said truthfully. Then he added, "I could have imagined it all."

Schafer shook his head. "It hardly seems so—with all those details about his family, about those two Allied bombing attacks… Please, go on."

"He told me all about Berlin… how much he loved it… how foolish the Nazis are in abandoning other targeted cities in the mistaken belief that the Allies may try to bomb a city so deep in Germany…." He shook his head. The memory of the youthful soldier came into his head and refused to be shaken away. War cannot hold down a good man forever. Hogan let out a long, weary breath. If only I could believe that's true…

"I can't talk about this any more," Hogan said softly. "It's a burden, Major," he said, reaching for his cane with a trembling hand. He pulled himself up, not trying to hide the pain the action caused, and stood before the surprised German officer. "It's a burden I can't share with anyone." He nodded briefly toward Carter and Newkirk. "If you gentlemen will excuse me." Then he turned, and with the small amount of strength he had left, he walked out of the barracks.