Just in case you're wondering who ends up losing his memory, you're about to find out!

Chapter 2

Hogan and Newkirk were making good time weaving through the woods to get to their rendezvous point. They had a lot further to go, but Hogan was confident that his plan would get them there on time. He checked his watch; it was just after nine, and their destination was less than half a mile away. Their contact was supposed to pass by on the road at approximately 10:00 a.m., which put them ahead of schedule.

They were just rounding a small hill when Hogan thought he heard something. He stopped, motioning Newkirk to do the same, and looked around slowly; straining his ears to pick up any sound out of the ordinary. He glanced at Newkirk, who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, indicating that he didn't hear anything. Satisfied that they were, indeed alone, he resumed his trek through the woods, waving at Newkirk to follow.

They reached the rendezvous point twenty minutes later, crouching down behind some thick brush to wait. They had a good view of the road, while being securely hidden at the same time. Hogan turned his head to look at Newkirk, who was on his left. "We've still got half an hour," he said as quietly as he could, "We might as well have a seat."

Looking grateful for a bit of rest, Newkirk plopped down onto the grass, a tired sigh escaping his lips. "Blimey," he whispered, "I'm gettin' too bloody old for this!"

Hogan sat down next to him, grinning. "You're younger than me, you know," he whispered back teasingly, "Why, this should be just a walk in the park for you!"

"A bloody long park, if you ask me, Colonel!" Newkirk answered, and then smiled back at Hogan.

Closer to camp, LeBeau and Carter watched the last of the tanks, 45 in all; make their way along the road. They had plenty of pictures to send to London, as soon as they could process and develop them. Now the trick was to get back to Stalag 13 without getting caught. They started back through the forest the way they'd come, Gretchen once again in the lead.

They'd hardly gone a few steps when Carter piped up, "Boy, there sure were a lot of tanks, weren't there, Louie? It's a good thing we got all these pictures…London's gonna love this, boy! Only next time, I hope we can plant some explosives on the road, you know? Wouldn't it be great to see those tanks go sailing into the air with a 'Blam!', and a 'Kerpow!', and lots of metal flying everywhere; like when we blew up those trucks a while back that were trying to use the camp as a gas station, and…" (1)

"Enough, Carter!" LeBeau finally cut in, exasperated. "Can't you stop talking for more than five minutes? Besides," he added, "We're supposed to be as quiet as possible so we don't draw any attention to ourselves. Do you want us to get caught?"

"Sorry," Carter apologized sheepishly, "I guess I get a little too excited sometimes."

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "Sometimes?" He mumbled, more to himself. "Look," he continued, a bit louder so Carter could hear him, "Why don't we worry about getting back to camp first, and then you can get as excited as you want, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Carter answered back dejectedly, wishing for the umpteenth time that he could learn to keep his mouth shut.

For the next few minutes they traveled in silence, following Gretchen, retracing their steps back toward Stalag 13. They were almost in sight of it when she stopped and turned to face them.

"This is as far as I go," she told them, barely above a whisper. "Your Luft-Stalag is just up ahead. I have to meet with the underground and let them know that we were successful." She smiled and was about to leave, when LeBeau grabbed her hand once more.

"Must you go so soon?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Gretchen gave LeBeau's hand a squeeze. "Yes," she replied softly, "But don't worry…I'm sure you will see me again." She gently extracted her hand, and lifted it to wave goodbye to Carter. "Auf Wiederschen!" She called out, then turned, and was gone.

Carter smiled back and waved. "Yeah, Auf Wiederschen!" He called out after her. "It was nice meeting you! I hope we can do this again, sometime!"

"Carter!" LeBeau hissed at him.

"What?" Carter replied, looking at LeBeau with a confused expression on his face.

"Why don't you speak a little louder?" LeBeau snapped, "I don't think the guards heard you!"

Carter's eyes widened. "Oh, right," he answered, dropping his voice to a whisper. He'd gotten carried away again, hadn't he? "Sorry, Louie," he apologized.

LeBeau opened his mouth to scold Carter some more, then thought better of it. He breathed a big sigh and just shook his head. "Come on," he said resignedly, grabbing Carter's arm, "Let's get back to camp."

Newkirk crouched behind the brush where he and Colonel Hogan had been hiding to watch the road. The Colonel was talking to their contact, whose car had shown up right on time. He shifted nervously, keeping watch, dividing his attention between Hogan and the surrounding woods. At last the exchange was finished, and Hogan started back toward him, waving at the underground agent as he drove away.

Hogan caught up to Newkirk and looked at him with a satisfied grin on his face. "Got it!" He announced, reaching up and patting the left side of his chest. The information was tucked securely in the breast pocket of his uniform shirt, underneath his jacket. "Now, let's get out of here, shall we?"

"Right, Colonel," Newkirk answered, and then added, "So who was the agent you talked to?"

"I don't think we've worked with him before," Hogan said, "But he's the shortest man I've ever seen!"

They headed back into the forest, moving as silently as possible, Hogan in the lead. They'd gone perhaps a quarter of a mile, when Hogan once again thought he heard something. He stopped, peering into the woods in the direction of the sound.

Newkirk came up next to him, looking concerned. "What's wrong, Colonel?" He asked, keeping his voice low.

Just then they both heard a noise up in the distance. It sounded suspiciously like twigs snapping, and they instantly knew what it was…a German Patrol!

Hogan leaned in close to Newkirk's ear. "Stay here," he whispered, "I'll go check it out."

Moving stealthily, Hogan crept through the underbrush, darting back and forth among the trees. The sound grew louder, and he knew he was close. He crouched down, concealing himself in the bushes, and peered out. Suddenly he saw them; five German soldiers, plodding through the woods single-file, looking tired and bored. And they were headed in Newkirk's direction!

Newkirk was waiting impatiently for Hogan to return. He was tempted to follow after him; he didn't like it when the Colonel went off by himself, risking his own life, with no one there to back him up. But he knew how angry Hogan would be if he didn't follow orders, so he stood there, trying to make up his mind, when he heard the sound of footsteps coming from a short distance behind him. He whirled around, but couldn't see anything. That decided it for him; he took off after Hogan, moving as quickly and quietly as possible.

Hogan watched until the soldiers were out of sight. He got up, turned around, and started back the way he'd come; nearly running in an effort to reach Newkirk before the patrol did.

Newkirk hurried in the direction that Hogan had taken, having a pretty good idea where he'd gone. Just then he heard more footsteps off to his right, and ducked behind a tree. When the sound of the footsteps faded, he stepped back out…directly in front of Colonel Hogan!

Hogan saw Newkirk magically appear about 6 feet in front of him. There was no way he could avoid it; he slammed full-force into him, sending them both flying to the ground. Newkirk landed on his back, smacking his head hard on a tree root that was protruding from the forest floor. Hogan landed heavily on top of him, shifting his head to the left just in time to keep it from colliding with Newkirk's. Hogan, dazed, just lay there for a moment or two. Then he blinked and started to push himself up, when the sound of shouting reached his ears. The soldiers must have heard them! As luck would have it, they had fallen right into a dense section of undergrowth, providing them with much-needed cover.

"Das ist hier entlang!" Hogan heard one of them yell, and he knew they were in danger of being discovered. He put his head down and rested his cheek on Newkirk's shoulder, watching through the thick vegetation for any sign of the patrol. The footsteps grew louder, and he saw a pair of boots come to a halt not ten feet in front of him. He held his breath, for what seemed like an eternity, when all of a sudden the boots started to move away. They hadn't seen them! Hogan exhaled, sighing in relief. He waited until the sound of footsteps faded completely, then brought his head up and looked at Newkirk.

"Newkirk, they're gone; we can get up now."

Newkirk didn't respond.

"Newkirk?" Hogan asked, starting to worry. He rolled off the Corporal and sat up, taking a closer look at him. Newkirk appeared to be unconscious.

Hogan placed his fingers on Newkirk's neck, checking his pulse; it was strong and regular. He reached up and lightly tapped Newkirk's cheek. "Newkirk, wake up!" He insisted, growing more concerned by the second. "C'mon Newkirk, open your eyes!"

Slowly Newkirk's eyes fluttered open. An intense, throbbing pain was emanating from the back of his head. He blinked a few times, trying to focus, but the pain was overwhelming; preventing him from thinking clearly.

Hogan saw Newkirk open his eyes, and he was overcome with relief. "Hey, welcome back!" He said, smiling, "You sure had me worried there for a minute!"

Newkirk didn't seem to be listening. He just stared straight up toward the tops of the trees.

Hogan was becoming concerned again. He contemplated his next course of action, and decided that the best thing now was to get Newkirk back to camp as soon as possible. Besides, he didn't want to risk getting caught by the patrol if it returned. "Newkirk, we need to get going," He stated, "Do you think you can sit up?"

Newkirk started to become aware of someone talking to him. He looked in the direction of the voice, but couldn't quite make out the figure hovering over him.

Hogan took that as a sign that Newkirk was ready to get up. "Here, let me help you," he said. He leaned down, slid his arm under Newkirk's shoulders, and pulled the Corporal up into a sitting position.

As he sat up, the throbbing in Newkirk's head intensified, forcing a groan out of him. He closed his eyes tightly, willing the pain to stop, but it kept rolling through his head in waves.

Gradually the throbbing subsided, and Newkirk once again opened his eyes. "Ow, me achin' head!" He exclaimed, reaching up and gingerly touching the knot that was forming back there. He started to look around, his gaze scrutinizing the unfamiliar surroundings. "Wha…what happened?" He stammered, "Where am I?" And then his eyes lighted on Hogan, and widened in surprise.

"And who the bloody hell are you?"

(1) "The Gasoline War", season five

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