Author's Note: I don't own Hogan's Heroes. This is a fictional story any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.
"What if they ask for papers?" Olsen asked, as he nervously gazed at the hotel. They had made it to Dusseldorf and, by Hogan's calculations, had less than fifteen minutes to get into the hotel, find the film, and get out. If they took any longer than that, they wouldn't be able to check in on Carter before they had to be back for roll call.
"Relax." Hogan instructed, "Be confident. The more confident you are the less doubtful they will be and they'll be less likely to ask for papers." He wasn't as nervous as Olsen, but he wasn't exactly crazy about the idea of marching into a hotel that was still crawling with Gestapo, either.
"Colonel, I don't think this is a good idea." Olsen said, again, hoping his commander would listen this time. He wasn't used to this sort of thing. Sure, he'd hung out on the other side of the wire when the heroes needed. He was even used as a stand in for the colonel, once… but, this was keeping up a German persona in front of Gestapo. He'd almost passed out when he was talking with Lutzen all those weeks ago. "I don't speak German that well and my accent is terrible."
Hogan pulled on black, leather gloves and grinned, "Where's your sense of adventure?"
"I left it back at camp." Olsen muttered to Hogan's back as the officer climbed out of the car. Olsen followed the Colonel up to the hotel.
The few Gestapo men that were still gathered in the dinning room looked up when they entered the hotel. Olsen turned his back on them choosing, instead to speak with the desk clerk. "Good evening, I need a room for the night."
The clerk shook his head, "I cannot. At least, not until the Gestapo are done with their investigation."
Hogan sighed in an exaggerated manner. Olsen did his best to look offended, "The major needs a place to sleep for the night, before going to Berlin in the morning."
The clerk shrugged his shoulders with his palms upward, "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I am just following their orders. Perhaps, the major could sleep on the train?"
Hogan motioned for Olsen to follow him and, to Olsen's utter disbelief, he marched up to the Gestapo agents. "Where is your superior?" he asked, his German, far better than Olsen's, was very convincing. The corporal eyed him uncertainly. Hogan glared and lowered his voice an octave, "Bring me your superior, quickly!"
Olsen flinched at the tone, as did the corporal. He stuttered as he turned on his heel and hurried off to find his superior. Hogan grinned and whispered, "See? Confidence, that's all you need."
Olsen shook his head, thinking to himself, there's a reason I'm only the outside man.
Olsen didn't have a chance to respond when an older, lanky man rushed forward and snapped to a salute, "Sergeant Johan Hinde, Major."
Hogan saluted lazily, "Tell the clerk to register me so I can get some sleep."
Sergeant Hinde looked over to the clerk and back to Hogan, "I'm not sure I can do that, Herr Major." Hogan opened his mouth to speak, but Sergeant Hinde hurried on, "You see, this hotel has been sealed by Gestapo authority. I, respectfully, suggest that you return to the train."
"We are not traveling by train." Olsen said, hoping his accent didn't sound terrible. "We cannot sleep in the car and we will only be here for a couple of hours, as the Major needs to be in Berlin before noon."
"Lieutenant!" Hogan chastised him, "Try and maintain security protocols. We do not know who may overhear us." He gave the sergeant a withering gaze.
Olsen snapped his heels together and bowed his head, "Forgive me, Major."
Sergeant Hinde, shifted uneasily, "If it is only for a couple of hours. If you would just inform me or the corporal when you leave." He walked to the front desk and mumbled a few word to the clerk. "Major, the clerk will handle your registration."
Hogan returned his salute and chuckled as Sergeant Hinde made himself scarce. Olsen quickly signed the registrar and the clerk pointed to the stairs. "Up the steps, three doors down on the right."
"Danke." Olsen said, turning to follow Hogan up the staircase. Hogan glanced around when he reached the top. "Watch the steps." he whispered, to Olsen. Seeing only one table in the hallway, he quickly moved down the hallway until he reached it and prodded the dirt. After a moment, he pulled out a brown paper package about the size of a ring box. He shoved the package into his coat pocket and rejoined Olsen.
"As we go down the steps, I want you to apologize profusely." Hogan commanded, "I'll take it from there." Olsen nodded ambled down the steps, apologizing.
Hogan started to yell about the cleanliness of the hotel, "I saw a rat as large as my dog… and he's a German Shepherd!"
The clerk came out from behind the desk, wringing his hands with his eyes wide. Olsen handed him the key and then wiped his hands on his coat, "We've changed our minds… the car will suffice."
Sergeant Hinde appeared in the doorway a moment later, "What is going on?"
Hogan spun around and stomped up to him, "Sergeant, I insist you shut this establishment down, entirely. The rooms are dirty, the linens are filthy, and I think there might be bed bugs!" He threw his hand up, "What's next? Moldy food from room service?!"
Hogan stalked out of the door. Olsen shrugged to Hinde and rushed after his commanding officer.
"That was easier than I thought it would be." Olsen said, catching up and opening his car door. Hogan grinned, as he slid behind the wheel, "I told you… confidence, nothing but confidence."
1********************************1
LeBeau put the finishing touches on the Rhenish Mussels, just as Langenschiedt showed up with two privates in tow. "I am to deliver the dinner to the kommandant's office." he said, pleasantly.
LeBeau nodded, "It is ready. I suggest the Muscadet, from the Kommandant's private stock, to go with the meal."
Langenschiedt nodded and had one of the guards fetch the wine. He put the trays on the small rolling cart and turned to the other guard, "Private Huber, you will take the prisoner back to his barracks, while I deliver this to the Kommandant."
"Corporal," Huber piped up, "after I return the cockroach to his barracks, may I go off duty? I mean, I was supposed to go off duty before, but the prisoners escaped. Now that they are all back…"
Langenschiedt said, over his shoulder as he pushed the cart through the door, "Check with Sergeant Schultz first, but I see no reason why you can't."
"Danke." Huber glared at LeBeau and gave him a shove, "Move, cockroach."
LeBeau, thrown of balance, stumbled into the door. He caught himself from falling completely to the floor, but not before he struck his nose against the door jamb. The little Frenchman straightened and muttered under his breath, but continued on to the barracks.
LeBeau kept up a quick pace, for every time he started to slow down, Private Huber stuck his rifle in the middle of his back. To say the least, he was relieved to make it back to the barracks and even more relieved that Huber didn't follow him into the barracks.
"Le boche are cranky tonight." LeBeau said, taking off his jacket and tossing it on his bunk. He gingerly felt is nose, "I bet it will be bruised tomorrow."
"Colonel said that you were to get Miss Boucher ready for her trip." Private Walters said, as he examined his friend's nose, "Afterward, I would get some ice on that nose, it's starting to swell."
"The colonel also said, he wanted a complete job done on her hair and clothes… he even suggested that she wear fake glasses." Slim said, adding after a moment, "You haven't seen Peter have you, Louis?"
"Non, not since Lutzen's kraut was here." LeBeau said, heading for the tunnel entrance. "Try at the infirmary… after what happened with Lutzen, he and Joe became close."
Slim nodded and followed him down into the tunnel. They parted ways when LeBeau reached the 'Guest Quarters', but Slim asked him to keep an eye out for Newkirk and to get him started on the traveling papers if he turned up.
LeBeau assured him he would and turned to the small doorway. He found Jocelyn sitting on the cot in the corner with her back to the entrance. He heard her whimpering. LeBeau swallowed hard and squared his shoulders then he knocked gently on the wooden brace.
"Jocelyn?" the sobs stopped and he saw her back stiffen, "I have to get you ready to go."
She turned and gave him a half-smile that didn't reach her red, tear-filled eyes, "Trying to get rid of me so soon, Louis?"
"Never, cherie." LeBeau moved to her, sat on the cot and slipped his arm around her waist, "If I had my way, you would stay with me always."
She put her head on his shoulder and allowed her eyes to drift closed, "It has been too long… too much pain and horror… too much death."
He nodded, putting his other arm around her, effectively wrapping her into a warm embrace. "I think we have grown up very much in the past couple of years. I'm sorry about your mama. I had no idea what had happened to her or you, for that matter."
Jocelyn pulled out of the embrace, "Nor I, you. We heard of the defeat at Dunkerque and then less than two weeks later the Nazis were all over Paris. We went into hiding and…" she broke off, burying her head in his chest. LeBeau rubbed comforting, circles into her back, "What happened after the underground got you out of Paris?"
"I began to work for them. Small jobs at first then the rolls got bigger and bigger." she straightened again, and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. "I'm not sure how they caught on to me, but I was told on the train not to go back to Berlin." she blew her nose.
"It does not matter." LeBeau stood and pulled her to her feet, "We have much work to do."
Jocelyn looked confused, "What work?"
"You're getting remade, cherie." LeBeau led her to the salon and he laughed out loud when she squealed. "I thought you'd like this."
"Louis, this is incredible… I haven't seen this many cosmetics in one place in a very long time." She giggled as she dug through the lipsticks and face powders. LeBeau grabbed her hand and pulled her across the 'hallway' and opened the ladies wardrobe. Jocelyn's mouth dropped open, "H-h-how?" she stuttered, as she ran her hand over the racks of clothes. They were German fashioned, of course, but they were new and sturdy.
"Pierre is a genius with the needle and thread." LeBeau explained, "He would design them and set a whole group of prisoners to work on them. We have a couple of common sizes. So, we'll pick one out, tailor it to you, and voila."
"Incredible." She smiled as she pulled a black dress with a green, suit coat. "Remember when I wore this colour on that picnic and you told me it made my hair look like wildfire?"
LeBeau took the dress from her and replaced it, "I remember, but Colonel Hogan wants your entire appearance changed… even your lovely hair has to be dyed."
Jocelyn sighed, "I suppose you want to cut it, too." he nodded and she smiled, unhappily, "Oh, well… it's just hair, it will grow back."
"And I know you will be lovely no matter what." LeBeau grinned, "We'll let you pick your new hair color then you can pick an outfit. I'll tailor it while you dye your hair."
"I thought, that Pierre was the tailor?" she questioned as he guided her back to the salon, "Shouldn't he be doing it? I mean, I never knew you to be a sewing master."
"Pierre will be working on your papers." he explained, "He's the tailor, forger, and the best thief I know."
She raised an eyebrow, "This war has made strange bedfellows."
"Mais oui." LeBeau chuckled, "Come, we need to get busy. I want to get you out of danger as quick as possible."
1******************************1
Newkirk quietly closed the door behind him. He stood for a moment and glanced around the room. There were bunks, much like in the prisoners barracks, only these had heavy, plush blankets… without any holes in them! He thought about swiping some of them, but decided that he probably wouldn't get away with it and Hogan would have his hide.
Hogan would have his hide if he got caught here, period. He was not only breaking curfew, but he was also in an out-of-bounds area. He pushed those thought aside and went back to his reason for being here. He moved away from the door and sneaked over to the first set of bunks. Peering around them, he searched for Wilburt.
He found Wilburt sitting, with his head in his hands, in the bunk diagonally across from where Newkirk stood. The Englishman took a cautious step into the middle of the room and he noticed that a plate of food was sitting on the table. Wurst and Sauerkraut? 'E must be in bad shape to turn down that... or I'm just used to Schultzie's appetite.
"'Ello, Wilburt." he whispered. Wilburt's head snapped up and he immediately regretted that and let out a groan. "You all right?" he asked, reluctantly concerned about the young man.
"What are you doing here?" Wilburt asked, stiffly, keeping his head down, "You will get into a lot of trouble."
Newkirk limped over to the bench and sat, with his back to the table, in front of Wilburt. "I wanted to talk with you." Wilburt looked up, only slower this time. His eyes met Newkirk's and his head cocked to the side. Newkirk almost laughed, thinking that he looked like a curious puppy.
"What did you want to talk to me about?" Wilburt ground out between clenched teeth, "I thought you and you comrades hated me?"
Any trace of a smile disappeared from Newkirk's face, "You can't really blame us. You coulda blown the whistle on Lutzen, long 'fore anyone got 'urt." Wliburt duck his head and Newkirk softened his tone, "I just wanted to ask you why… Why did you let me escape in Dusseldorf and why didn't you tell Burkhalter?"
Wilburt shrugged, "It does not matter, I just did."
"There 'as to be a reason." Newkirk pressed, "You don't just wake up one morning and decide you've 'ad enough of 'urting people for kicks."
Wilburt glared, "I never hurt anyone… not really. I just cleaned up after he was done." he stood, leaning against the bunk post, "I had to do what he said… I had to keep my mama safe. I'm sorry for what happened to you, but it's not my fault."
Newkirk stood and grabbed hold of his arm, guiding him to the table, "Sit and eat. I ain't 'ere to bust ya up about 'elping Lutzen." he forced the German to sit at the table and handed him a fork.
Wilburt took the fork and started to eat, "Then I ask again, what are you here for? And don't tell me you want to know why I did something decent."
"All right, then..." Newkirk crossed his arms, "tell me where we stand."
Wilburt stopped eating and spoke around the bite of bratwurst in his mouth. "We are in the guard's barracks." he said, confusedly.
"No, I mean are you 'oldin' out on us, to get a better deal with Burkhalter?" Newkirk clarified, "Will your bout of good conscience run out when it suits you?"
Wilburt looked down at his plate, stirring its contents around, "Well… I made a deal." Newkirk blanched. Wilburt continued, quickly, "Nothing like what you are thinking. No… I made a deal with your kommandant, Colonel Klink."
"What kind of a deal could 'e make?" Newkirk wondered out loud, "'E's got no pull with anybody."
Wilburt grinned, "He suggested that I deny that any of you were involved with anything. That I let General Lutzen take all of the blame for everything and, in return, he would get me transferred to the Luftwaffe, under him. He was worried about his record at the camp." Wilburt gave him a funny look, "I asked what he would do if his prisoners were the men and at first, he said it was impossible. Then he said it wouldn't matter, as long as you were all back at camp. He's a very strange man."
Newkirk snorted, "That's the iron weasel, protect 'imself at all cost."
Wilburt started to answer when the door to the barracks opened. Newkirk dove to the floor and crawled under the closest bunk. A tall private strode, tiredly, into the room. He looked surprised, saying in rapid German, "What are you doing here? Who authorized you to be in here?"
Wilburt turned around, expecting to see the Englander standing beside him. When he didn't see him anywhere, Wilburt realized that the private was talking to him. "I am Corporal Fielderbach, S.S. I was given these quarters as a place to stay, by Kommandant Klink."
The private relaxed, "Oh, I'm sorry, corporal. My name is Oskar, Oskar Huber." he sat down on the bottom bunk behind Wilburt. "With all the craziness going on, a man can't be too careful."
Wilburt turned to face him and caught a glimpse of Newkirk's blue uniform underneath the bunk that Huber sat on. He gasped and quickly covered it by coughing. Huber jumped to his feet and pounded on Wilburt's back until he waved the private off, "Danke, a piece of wurst went down the wrong way." Huber nodded returning to his bunk and he reached down to take off his boots. "You were saying about the craziness?" Wilburt said, attempting to distract him as Newkirk scrunched further back. "What craziness?"
"Weird goings-on..." Huber said, taking his boot off, but keeping his eyes on Wilburt. "A Tiger Tank appeared at the gate with orders to put down a riot."
"What's so strange about that?" Wilburt asked.
"There was no riot." Huber said, pulling off his other boot and undoing his uniform coat, "And then the tank disappears and no one can find it, only to reappear and try to run people over."
Wilburt's mouth dropped open, "How?"
Huber shrugged, "No one knows… Well, I think the Sergeant knows something, but Schultz is just soft." he chuckled, "But I think the strangest thing had to be when a plane took off from the prisoner's Recreation Hall."
"A plane?" Wiburt said, slowly, "In the Recreation Hall? How did that happen?"
"Kommandant Klink doesn't know and he doesn't want to know." Huber said, taking his coat off and stretching out on the bed, "He ordered us all to forget, but there are strange goings-on." he yawned, "I need to get some sleep… we'll talk later, ja?"
Wilburt nodded and turned back to his dinner. After ten or fifteen minutes, Wilburt had finished his dinner and Huber was snoring softly. "You can come out now." Wilburt whispered. Newkirk climbed out as quietly as he could and sneaked across the room, with Wilburt right behind him. "We must speak later, Englander. You have some explaining of your own."
Newkirk glanced at Huber then at Wilburt, "We'll see." and without another word he exited the building. He dodged the lights and guards until he made it back to barracks two.
"There you are!" Slim said, exasperatedly, "I've been looking all over for you. What were you doing outside?"
Newkirk shrugged, "Just 'ad an errand… What'd you need, mate?"
Slim looked unconvinced, but he didn't press it, "Colonel wants you to get all the girl's papers ready." Newkirk went to the Colonel's office and stuck his head in, but found only Baker, manning the coffee pot. "Where's the Colonel?" he asked.
Baker shrugged, "He and Olsen took off about an hour ago."
Stepping back into the common room, he asked where Kinch or LeBeau was. Slim pointed to the tunnel entrance, "Louis is down getting the girl's clothes and hair changed and Kinch is on the radio."
Newkirk nodded and hurried over to the bunk. "Ta, mate." he called over his shoulder.
1****************************************1
"Come, private." Mrs. Voll encouraged, the guard at Carter's door. Dr. Voll had used him to get Carter into the guest room and not long after that she had received a telephone call from the camp. Hogan had made arrangements to sneak into their home in the morning to check on Carter. The window of time he had specified was upon them and she was having a hard time getting the guard away from Carter's door. "You have been up all night. Breakfast and some coffee would perk you right up." she beamed a pleasant smile.
"I have to remain at the prisoner's door." he insisted, "It is my duty."
She put both hands on her hips and said in a firm, motherly voice, "Is it your duty to starve? No, you can fulfill your duty better if you are not weak and sleepy. Come." this time she demanded.
He bit his lip, indecision written all over his face, "That is logical, Mrs. Voll." he looked at the door he was guarding, "If your sure he cannot escape?"
She chuckled as she linked her arm with his, "Of course he can't. He's too weak and the doctor is with him, if there is any trouble you can be back there in seconds."
He smiled as she led him into the kitchen where the smells of fresh bread, meats and cheeses, and coffee were too tempting to resist.
As soon as Dr. Voll heard them leave the door, he opened it and peeked out. Seeing no one, he crept to the front door. He opened it and his heart almost stopped, when the loud creak echoed in the hall. He paused and cursed under his breath, remembering he was supposed to put oil in the hinges months ago.
Turning around, he listened for the sound of footsteps, breathing a sigh of relief when he heard nothing.
"Doc?" Dr. Voll jumped and spun back to the door. Hogan raised and eyebrow at the doctor's expression, "Something wrong?" he asked.
"Nein, you just startled me." Dr. Voll whispered, motioning Hogan and Olsen to come in. "You must be very quiet. One of the guards from your stalag is in the kitchen with Frieda."
Hogan followed the doctor into the room that only two months earlier held another one of his men. He felt a pang of guilt wash over him. He knew that no one could have foretold what happened to Newkirk, but he couldn't help but feel that they should have gotten rid of Lutzen before attempting another mission.
"How is he?" Olsen asked, quickly taking his eyes away from Carter's damaged face. Hogan also flinched, the bruises on his face had been much lighter several hours ago. Now, they covered most of his face. Dr. Voll smiled reassuringly, "Much like Peter, it looks worse than it is. His injuries are not as plentiful as Peter's, but he has lost more blood. I didn't know a man could lose that much blood and still be alive." Dr. Voll shook his head in amazement, "He's got a gaurdian angel looking out for him… yes, indeed."
Hogan smiled, "Doc, in this line of work, I've learned never to under-estimate God or Carter."
"Hiya, Colonel." Cater mumbled, his eye barely open, "Whatchya doin' here?"
Hogan sat down gently on the side of the bed, "Came to check on you. How are you feeling?"
Carter closed his eyes and tried to lick his lips, "Thirsty, I'm so thirsty."
Doctor Voll went over to the table beside the only window in the room. He picked up a glass and filled it less than half full. "Here," he said softly, gently propping up Carter's head, "drink it slowly. Don't gulp it, Andrew… sip."
After he had taken several swallows, he pushed the cup away, "What happened to the girl? And Lutzen? And how did I get out of the cellar? And…."
"Easy, Carter." Hogan put a hand on his shoulder, "One question at a time. The girl is safe and she'll be on her way to England in a couple of days."
"Lutzen's been taken care of, Burkhalter and Hochstetter saw to that." Olsen added, answering the second question.
"And we'll tell you the whole story about the heroic rescue of Sergeant Andrew J. Carter another time. We have to get back to the camp. Roll call is in twenty minutes, we'll be cutting it close as it is."
"Andrew needs his sleep anyway." Dr. Voll said, "You go to sleep and next time you wake up, Mrs. Voll will have some broth for you to eat." Carter sort of smiled and mumbled a quiet good-bye that morphed into a yawn. Hogan and Olsen smiled and quickly said their good-byes. Dr. Voll ushered them to the door. Olsen hurried out to the car and got in. Hogan lingered at the door for a moment, "When will he be able to come home?"
"That depends on how well, he does." Dr. Voll shrugged, "He is, how do you Americans say it? Not yet out of the woods."
1*********************************1
"Where are they?" Schultz whined. He had gotten very little sleep the night before, due to his throbbing ankle. Helga had told him to keep off of it for a few days, but Klink had told him to be at roll call or else. "Didn't you learn anything from last night? And with Major Hochstetter and General Burkhalter here? Where are they?"
"They'll be here." Kinch tried to assure him, but the worry that edged his voice wasn't that convincing.
Schultz whined again, "Haven't I been a good Sergeant-of-the-Guard? I have treated you fairly, I have not seen too much, and this is how you repay me? Sending me to the Russian Front!"
"Shhh, Schultzie." Newkirk chastised, "Someone might 'ear you. 'Ogan'll be 'ere, or my name isn't Peter Newkirk."
The door to the Kommandanture opened and Burkhalter, Hochstetter, and Klink filed out. Schultz marched miserably over to the kommandant before he had a chance to holler for the report, "Herr, Kommandant. I beg to report that Colonel Hogan is not in the camp and he has taken Sergeant Olsen with him."
Burkhalter and Hochstetter rolled their eyes and Klink bellowed, "Dummkopf, are you blind?"
"Go easy on him, Kommandant." Hogan said sideling up beside, Schultz. "He's had a rough night, what with that ankle and all. Why if he were an allied soldier, he'd get a couple of days off to rest."
"I will decide what to do with my men, Hogan." Klink said waving his finger in the American's face, "Schultz, go count again."
"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz snapped into a salute, wincing slightly at the sharp twinge in his ankle. "Back in line, Colonel Hogan."
Hogan walked back to the formation of men. Klink escorted Burkhalter to his vehicle and Hochstetter went to his. Hogan waved cheerfully, "Thanks for coming!" he hollered, "Stop by any time."
"Colonel Hogan, please!" Schultz begged, his eyes wide.
"What?" Hogan asked, innocently. "I was just being polite."
After the cars drove off, Klink stormed over to the formation. "REPORT!" he yelled. Schultz reported all prisoners accounted for and Klink glared at Hogan. "When Carter is well and is back at camp, the entire camp will go without their evening lights for ninety days and they will not receive any white bread for that same length of time." The men erupted into complaints. Hogan tried to quiet them down, but Klink was fuming. "Since you like that so much, the Recreation Hall will be padlocked for six months!"
"Six months?!" Hogan cried, his eyes wide.
"Would you like to go for nine months?!" Klink screeched.
Hogan held up his hand in defeat, "No, Kommandant. You win, but you sure take all of the fun out of being a prisoner."
Klink smiled in a pompous, self-satisfied way, "I know. DISMISSED!"
Hogan watched Klink stalk back to his office, before heading into the barracks. No sooner was he inside then the men crowded around him complaining about the punishment. "All right, hold it down!" Hogan hollered, putting his hands up. "Klink's just a little hot under the collar at the moment. We did cause him some trouble. Give him some time to cool off and I'll get the punishment reduced." One of the men asked about Carter and Hogan crossed his arms, "He should be okay, he's with Dr. and Mrs. Voll. They'll take good care of him and he'll be home before you know it. Now, get back to business as usual."
The men were still grumbling, but disbursed back to their various activities. LeBeau went back to the stove and poured the egg mixture into the hot skillet, while Newkirk and Kinch sat down at the table.
"Did you get in touch with London?" Hogan asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee and stifling a yawn.
"Yes, sir." Kinch replied, "I got in touch with them and the Underground. The Underground will have someone at the usual spot whenever we send them word."
"And the girl's papers are done and Louis 'as 'er ready to go." Newkirk piped up.
Hogan nodded, "We'll move her out the day after tomorrow. After we get some sleep."
Olsen laid down on his bunk and yawned, "Thank you, sir. I feel like I could sleep for a month."
"Not until you eat your breakfast, mon ami." LeBeau said, carrying a pan of scrambled eggs to the table. "It's ready now."
Olsen shook his head, "I don't want any."
Newkirk grinned, as he held his plate out for LeBeau to scoop eggs on to it. "The outside man isn't used to all the action."
Hogan thankfully accepted the plate offered to him, "Kinch tell London to have the sub at the rendezvous tomorrow night."
"No go, Colonel." Kinch shook his head, "They want that film tonight. London said, they wanted to get some use out of the information before the German's make it obsolete." he looked as if he wanted to say more, but was holding back.
"What else did they say, Kinch?" Hogan pressed, having a feeling he all ready knew.
"Well, sir, they aren't very happy about how this mission went..." he paused, "They, umm, suggested that, if you can't handle a simple mission like this, maybe our operation isn't worth the expense of keeping it running."
Newkirk choked on his eggs, "Blimey, if they think it's so easy, 'ow 'bout they come 'ere and do themselves."
LeBeau was rambling in French, as he slammed the frying pan back on the stove. Kinch shrugged, "I'm sorry, Colonel. That's what they said."
Hogan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Never mind. "
"But, Colonel..." Newkirk started.
"I said never mind." Hogan cut him off, "I'll deal with this. Olsen, LeBeau, after breakfast, you two get some sleep. You'll take the film to the sub. Kinch, get London on the line, I want to talk with them."
"Colonel, don't you think you should get some sleep before you do that?" Olsen suggested.
Hogan started to shake his head until Kinch agreed with Olsen, "It might be better to wait until they have the film, they'll be in a better mood."
"Plus, if you sleep first, you'll 'ave all your wits about you." Newkirk added.
"Oui, Colonel." LeBeau said, "It could be quite a tussle, you wouldn't want to say anything out of temper."
Hogan looked around the table and set his plate down, "All right, I'll get a nap first, but when I get up I want London on the radio."
"Yes, sir." Kinch nodded. Hogan went to his office, stretched out on the bottom bunk, and was asleep in moments.
P.S. Haha! Last chapter and it is a long one... I fought hard with the first section,(hence the late update)but after I jumped that hurtle, it was smooth sailing. As always, I LOVE feedback, if you have any comments or criticisms send me a review or a PM. The epilogue will be up soon. Enjoy!
