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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Klink stood facing Captain Lehmann, feeling somehow not unlike the way he used to feel when he was standing before the headmaster at school when he was about to be punished for doing something naughty. Only this time, he couldn't drop his head and look out from under the mussed-up hair that allowed him not to confront trouble eye to eye.

"Colonel Klink," Lehmann began, his tone slightly less friendly than Klink would have liked, "after having thoroughly inspecting the barracks, the supply hut and the kitchens, as well as the guards' quarters and your own, I must tell you that your quarterly inventory report was completely accurate."

Klink relaxed and smiled. Of course it was! "Danke, Captain. I worked very hard to make sure everything was exactly as Berlin wanted—"

"Unfortunately, that is not something that you should be proud of," Lehmann interrupted.

Klink's brilliant smile disappeared. "No, of course it isn't," he said, deflated. "Why isn't it?"

"Because it clearly shows that you are using far more supplies than necessary to run an ordinary prisoner of war camp!"

Klink's eyes suddenly lit up. "Ah, but Captain, this is not an ordinary prisoner of war camp!" he replied. "There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13! None of the other prisoner of war camps can boast such a marvelous record. Of course, in order to maintain this extraordinary record, I do find it necessary to occasionally reward the prisoners for their good behavior, and I have developed an understanding with Colonel Hogan, who is most cooperative about keeping the men in line."

Lehmann shook his head. "Rewarding prisoners is hardly the answer, Colonel. Clearly it costs too much to do such things. The answer is to be tougher on your prisoners. Your guards have guns, do they not? Then let them start to stay in camp out of fear and broken morale—instead out of laziness because they are treated as though they are in a rest camp!"

Rest camp? Klink couldn't help thinking of how ironic that sounded, even though his head was spinning. He thought of Colonel Hogan, whom Lehmann had deprived of the one simple thing that Klink had offered to help the American to recover. He still got butterflies in his stomach when he imagined the betrayal Hogan must have felt when the Captain had demanded that he give up his additional blanket. Yet another reminder that Hogan was a prisoner, not a free man—as if he needed any more reminding after a week in the hospital with minimal attention and grudgingly-given pain relievers, only administered when Klink himself had visited and saw Hogan writhing in such agony that the Kommandant demanded the injured man be given medication. When he realized what was going on, Klink had made regular visits to the hospital, which ensured that Hogan would get some relief at least once a day. Stalag 13—Germany—was certainly no rest camp for the American officer. And why should you care, Wilhelm? he chastised himself once again.

Klink offered a small, nervous laugh. "A rest camp. That's very funny." Lehmann's dark look changed his mind. "It's not very funny." He shook his head. "Not at all. No. But, Captain Lehmann, everything I use is thoroughly accounted for, as you yourself admitted. And it is all necessary for the smooth running of this—"

A knock on the door interrupted him mid-stream. Thank heaven, Klink thought unashamedly. "Yes, what is it?" The door opened and Major Schafer appeared. "Oh, Major! Come in, come in!" Klink gratefully waved the officer into the room. "What a pleasure to see you!"

Schafer looked at Klink with a slightly bemused expression. He saluted Klink, who returned the gesture. "Well, danke, Herr Kommandant, but I only saw you a couple of hours ago."

"Is that all it's been?" Klink asked. "Oh, it seems like much, much longer than that." He moved back behind his desk—strategically away from Lehmann, who was looking on with clear distaste. "Of course, when you are tied down with paperwork—you know, audits and other Luftwaffe matters—well, time just seems to speed up, doesn't it?"

Schafer's confused look remained for a few seconds, then he wiped it off to get to the subject at hand. "Yes, I… suppose it does," he replied.

"Now, what can I do for you, Major Schafer?"

"Well, Colonel Klink, to be honest, I was hoping to have some time with Captain Lehmann."

"Captain Lehmann?" Klink repeated dully.

"Yes, yes! I understand he has all the correspondence between you and Berlin in the last three months out for study."

"Yes, that is true," Lehmann said, stepping forward. He saluted Schafer, who returned the gesture with a "Heil Hitler." "It is all in the antechamber, Major. I am still sorting through it. What is it you need?"

Schafer let his eyes roam between Klink and the Captain. "I understand there were reports from this office to Berlin about the car accident that Colonel Hogan was in."

Klink frowned. "Well… yes… there was something."

"Excellent. Colonel Hogan and his men had much to say about his rescue, and the stories were absolutely fascinating."

"Fascinating?" Klink repeated. That's hardly the word I would use. "Well, yes, I suppose they were."

"And you, Kommandant, you heard it all first hand!"

"Ja, and I wish I hadn't," Klink muttered, his memories all too sharp. The blood… the suffering… he wished that on no man.

"If only someone had listened." Klink nodded at the statement. At last, someone else agreed that Hogan should have been given better treatment! "You handled it marvelously, Kommandant." Schafer turned to Lehmann. "Where are these reports? I am most anxious to continue this. I should have something to Berlin by tomorrow!"

"I have them in the outer office, Herr Major," Lehmann answered.

"Good. Show them to me, and I shall get to work."

"Jawohl, Herr Major." Lehmann turned to Klink. "I will return to Berlin tomorrow, Colonel. And we shall see what further action we must take. But I must warn you: it will not be good for you."

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"Schafer's still in Klink's office. I hope he's doing what I think he's doing; it's been quiet in there an awfully long time," Hogan said.

Le Beau nodded and brought Hogan a cup of fresh coffee, which the Colonel accepted with a small smile before turning to look back out the door of the barracks. How many times have I tried to distract le Colonel with food or drink? If only it were that easy… "I am sure it will be just perfect, Colonel," he assured Hogan. "Newkirk does very good work."

"Good enough to end up on the 'Wanted' posters at the post office," Kinch added mischievously.

"Now, hang on a second there, gentlemen," Newkirk protested. "I have never been on a 'Wanted' poster at the post office." He waited a beat, then added, "It's strictly Scotland Yard for me."

"I always wondered how they decide whose pictures go up in the post office," Carter mused. "Some of those guys are really scary-looking."

"Well, you don't land up there for winning a beauty contest, mate," Newkirk replied.

Le Beau put the last plate on the table and then turned to see if Hogan was going to join them. "Dinner is served," he said to Hogan's back. When he got no response, he looked at the others already seated and shrugged.

It was Carter who spoke up. "Colonel Hogan, are you gonna join us?" he asked.

Kinch watched his commanding officer carefully. When Newkirk and Carter related what had happened in the office with Schafer, the radio man had gone out in search of the Colonel. But when he spotted him, he decided to stay away. Hogan was wandering near the perimeter fences, leaning heavily on his cane, stopping occasionally to do what appeared to be wiping his eyes, only to resume the aimless drifting. When the officer finally returned to the barracks, his eyes were red and swollen, but his expression offered no opening for conversation, only a plea for solitude, and so Kinch decided once again to give Hogan his privacy.

Now, Hogan turned away from the door, his gaze wandering around the room and finally landing on the table. His eyes seemed to see right through it, holding what Le Beau had once described as "the thousand mile look," but at least, Kinch thought, they no longer reflected the destroyed soul of a man. Now, they reflected resignation, and weariness. That wasn't a lot better, but it was something.

"Sure, Carter," Hogan replied with only a hint of a smile, and he came and sat down at the table of the common room, leaning his cane up against the stove. "Can't have Le Beau's good cooking go to waste." He noticed the Frenchman's eyes watching him intently as he picked up his fork. "Thanks for cooking for us, Louis," he added quietly. Le Beau smiled, his eyes still locked on Hogan, and nodded. "I'm sure it's…"

Hogan's voice drifted off, as he looked at the plate and realized he had absolutely no appetite. He blinked himself into action and determinedly pierced a potato, pausing when it got halfway to his mouth to make himself focus again. He looked at his men, some of whom looked away when he caught them watching him, the others trying to speak volumes without saying a word. He put his fork back down on the plate, the food forgotten, and straightened his back. "What's happening with Lehmann?" he asked.

"He's leaving first thing tomorrow, sir," Newkirk replied at once.

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, gov'nor, the Captain's car is in the motor pool. Kinch and I gave it a right good polish this afternoon, didn't we?"

"That's right," Kinch confirmed; "it's all shiny and ready to go."

Hogan nodded. "And?"

Kinch shrugged. "And I've made sure the lock doesn't work quite as well as it used to."

Hogan finally smiled a real smile. "Good."

The bunk above the tunnel rose up and Olsen's head popped out. "Colonel—I've been monitoring the calls as you said—Major Schafer has just asked for a line out to Berlin."

"Right," Hogan replied. Kinch immediately got up and headed for the tunnel, and Hogan tried to follow, but found himself slowed by his still-unreliable leg. "Go on, Kinch," he said, waving the Sergeant toward the ladder. "I'll get there as soon as I can."

Kinch nodded and followed Olsen back down. Hogan took hold of his cane and hobbled toward the entrance. He took a fleeting look back at his rejected dinner, then turned guiltily to Le Beau. "I'm sorry, Louis," he offered. "Maybe later."

Le Beau sighed and stood up, removing Hogan's plate from the table. "Je compris, mon Colonel," he said, nodding. "I will save it for you."

"Thanks."

Hogan's men kept their eyes averted from the ladder as Hogan struggled to get below. Someday, everything would go back to normal.

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"That is correct, Herr General, everything the American said so far has been verified!"

Hogan listened carefully as Schafer spoke to his superiors. "Of course it has," Hogan said; "it's amazing what can be right when you write it down after it happens."

Kinch nodded and turned back to the equipment that let them listen to the whole phone conversation.

"The bombing of Stuttgart—the attack on Bremen—all of it happened just as the American said it would when he was pulled out of the wreckage. It is all in the letter the camp Kommandant sent to Berlin!" Schafer continued. Some doubts from the other end of the line. "I do not know why it did not get to the authorities, Herr General; I have a copy of it here from Colonel Klink's own files. Everything the American Colonel said about the guard was correct, and everything he said about Stuttgart and Bremen came to pass! In this case it would seem prudent if we would listen to the rest of the warnings…"

The rest of Hogan's men had finally given in to their curiosity and come down to the tunnel. Kinch turned to quiet them as Schafer continued, reading out the letter Newkirk had fashioned to the officer on the other end of the phone.

Hogan felt a tightening in his chest as Schafer then passionately retold everything the American officer had confessed to him—that Hogan had thought Kleinschmidt was alive, that the personal details he rambled about Gunter after his rescue all turned out to be correct, that the young guard seemed most anxious to share the Allies' offensive strike plans—possibly to avert disaster in the Fatherland if Hogan could pass on the details to the right people, Schafer postulated—that so far, the first two predictions Hogan had made were correct, and that no one was paying attention to the letter Klink sent, explaining that Berlin was not a realistic target, while Leipzig and Wiesbaden were next on the list.

Schafer's final, fervent suggestion was that Berlin take the warnings provided seriously, and move the flak batteries and other defense systems that were starting to gather near Berlin away from the area, and toward the cities mentioned in Klink's letter. He promised to have something in writing for the Propaganda Ministry the next day, for publication and circulation within the next two weeks. In return, his suggestion was promised serious consideration, which would be confirmed within the next twenty-four hours.

Hogan nodded as the call concluded, then turned to Kinch. "We'll have to keep monitoring the phones. We have to know what Berlin decides to do so we can contact London."

Kinch nodded. "Right, sir."

Hogan stopped, tried to stretch sore muscles, and then turned to Newkirk. "That letter may just have done the trick," he informed him. "Good work."

"Thank you, sir," Newkirk replied.

"Make sure you get it back when Lehmann's gone."

"Right, sir."

"You fellas go back upstairs and finish eating. I'll take first watch on the phone tap."

Short bursts of protests were cut off by the look on Hogan's face. The men exchanged slightly deflated looks and nodded their agreement, then followed orders. Hogan sat down in front of the equipment, and buried his face in his hands.