Chapter 5:

Kinch was rocking Gracie back and forth as she continued crying profusely. She was not hungry, did not need a diaper change, and was not sick either. All that happened with each attempt of calming her down was more crying and louder wailing.

"You're all right, Gracie; you're all right, darling." The sergeant hushed her.

The baby girl continued to cry.

"Give her here, mate; used to do this thing all the time when Mavis was little," Newkirk said, holding out his arms.

Kinch carefully handed Gracie to Newkirk, and the Englishman started gently rocking her from side to side, hushing her once and a while.

"Now no need to cry, little mate. You're safe here with us. If yah think the Gov'nor's gonna let anything happen to yah, you gotta 'nother thing coming. Those Gestapo and Luftwaffe Krauts couldn't harm yah if they tried. Colonel Hogan's gonna protect yah until he knows absolutely certain that you're safe and alright." He cooed.

Gracie's wailing droned on.

Newkirk sighed and tried to think quickly on his feet. He was absolutely amazed at how fast his commanding officers could come up with ideas. He pondered and pondered and pondered, when one finally popped into his head, but he was very self conscious of doing it. He cleared his throat hesitantly and started singing in the key of C Major.

"Yankee Doodle went to town, riding on a pony. Stuck a feather in his cap, and called it 'macaroni'." He was starting the second verse, when LeBeau interrupted him abruptly.

"What are you doing, Pierre?" He asked.

"I'm trying to sing a lullaby; ever heard of such a thing?" Newkirk asked, agitation clearly heard in his tone.

"And you picked 'Yankee Doodle' for a lullaby?" Kinch asked.

"Do yah mates got a better idea?"

Kinch, Carter, and LeBeau all fell silent for a brief moment, then they all started singing the legendary American Revolution song.

"Yankee Doodle went to town, riding on a pony. Stuck a feather in his cap, and called it 'macaroni'."

Hogan casually entered inside the barracks and stared questionably at his men, who were dancing around the main area with a furiously bawling Gracie.

"What's going on here?" He asked, putting a fist on his hip.

All the men froze in their spots, looked to their commanding officer, then shifted uncomfortably in their spots.

"We were trying to calm Gracie down by singing," LeBeau answered.

"She's done nothing but cry since you left, Sir." Carter added.

Hogan walked over and gently took Gracie from Newkirk's arms. He started rocking and hushing her, cooing to her every so often. The baby stopped crying when she recognized a familiar warm aura return and looked up to find out who was holding her. Seeing it was the friendly colonel again, she smiled and made little noises. Hogan gave a small smile in return and kissed her on the top of her tiny head.

"Well, I don't believe it," LeBeau said, crossing his arms.

"Colonel, she does like you after all." Kinch added, with a grin.

"I guess she was crying because she wanted you to come back to her," Carter hypothesized.

Hogan smiled as he kept looking at Gracie, rocking her gently from side to side. She was beginning to grow tired and was starting to fall back to sleep.

"You just go to sleep, Gracie; I'll be here when you wake up," he said softly.

Gracie slowly closed her eyes and nodded off to sleep.

"I tell yah the Gov'nor's gonna make the best damn father this world's ever seen," Newkirk said, amazed at the American's gift with children.

"Who knew he had such a liking to little kids." The radioman added.

"Especially when he always acts so tough and brave." LeBeau chimed in.

Hogan looked up and raised an eyebrow, eyeing his men carefully.

"Not that you aren't brave, mon Colonel. You're the bravest man I know alive." The Frenchman quickly corrected himself.

The colonel smirked in response.

"I know what you meant, LeBeau...and you guys are right. I do have a soft spot when it comes to kids. It's the reason this assignment's so important to me. I want this innocent little life to get away from here as soon as possible...so she can live a happy, safe life," Hogan answered, looking down at Gracie.

"And she will, Gov'nor. You and the four of us will make sure of it." Newkirk replied.

"I know we will...I still have a right to worry, though. This isn't just another agent this time around; we're talking about a sweet baby girl who doesn't deserve to live through this war to begin with."

"You make a point on that one, Colonel."

Hogan sat down at the table, still cradling the little infant who was fast asleep in his arms. His smile grew wider and smirked every time Gracie squirmed around in his arms.

Kinch smiled at his commanding officer, turned to the others, then back again at Hogan.

"Colonel, why don't you go to your quarters; give you some peace and quiet in there," he suggested.

Hogan looked up at Kinch and nodded. He got up from the table and approached his quarters door trying to make as little of noise as possible. He opened the door with his one hand, stepped inside the small room, then quietly closed the door behind him. Once he had vanished from sight, the four flyers grabbed a seat at the table and resumed their conversation.

"Boy...I never knew Colonel Hogan had such a love for children," Carter said.

"All human beings love children...if they're decent ones, that is," LeBeau answered.

"No, Andrew's right, Louis. Colonel seems different compared to the other blokes I've seen before." Newkirk added.

"He has the love of children like a l'enseignant." The Frenchman replied.

"An en suite what?" Kinch asked.

"L'enseignant; it's French for 'teacher'. 'Mentor'. 'Guide'." LeBeau translated.

"Make that a bloody good teacher. I had too many during my education that were just downright unbearable," Newkirk commented. "Mr. Jeffress was the worst of them blokes. Made us read 60 pages a night, write eleven essays, and threw in a surprise quiz in the mix every time you least expected it."

"The question is did you do any of it," the staff sergeant said.

"Every last one of them...that I found useful, that is."

LeBeau rolled his eyes, shook his head, then returned his attention to the two sergeants.

"Do you think he'll be able to say goodbye to Gracie so easily, then?" Carter asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Kinch let out a large breath of air.

"It's difficult to tell. This situation is so unique and novel...far more than usual. We may see a side of Colonel Hogan we've never seen before," he answered.

"If yah ask me, the Gov'nor's just gonna lock it up inside him and not show how he's truly feeling," Newkirk said, grim. "Always has to put away his own thoughts and feelings to the side in order to help someone else."

"Whatever happens, I can be sure of this; it's gonna affect Colonel Hogan in some sort of way: positive or negative," Kinch stated.

Carter smiled small.

"Sure seems to like her," he said softly.

The English corporal could not help but smirk.

"Sure does...seems to melt whenever he's around her." He added.

"Like I said before; when this war ends, he's gonna make a magnifique le papa," LeBeau said, with confidence.

"Who knew a little baby could turn our strong, tough colonel into a big teddy bear." The radioman added, trying to not smirk.

"Well," Newkirk began, grabbing a deck of cards out of his jacket pocket. "I don't know about you blokes, but I for one am up for a game of gin."

"I could go for a round," Carter answered.

"I'm taking both of you down." Kinch added in.

"Just wait until I show you how the French do it," LeBeau said, grabbing the deck from his friend's hands. He shuffled them up a few times, then dealt each person a hand.

Hogan sat down in his desk chair and held Gracie close to him while he continued rocking her softly. He could not stop himself from smiling at her. She was simply just too sweet to not to. She brought a strong feeling of happiness and innocence to the drafty, cold POW camp. Despite the mucky conditions and the fall temperatures dying away for the season, she made him feel warm and as if it were summer instead of the lingering winter slowly approaching.

"Looks like you don't get along well without me around, do you," he said friendly.

Gracie remained sound asleep in the colonel's arms. The only noise heard throughout the room was her faint breathing.

"Hope you don't cause me any trouble with Klink here. He's not as friendly as I am...I won't let him do anything to you, though. Not while I'm around."

Gracie made soft, little grunts and moved her head around a little before putting it back in place.

Hogan sighed with contentment, then began to frown. He knew eventually the submarine would come and take her away to England. Of course, that is what he wanted for her: to grow up in a safe country with two people that would love her and look out for her. He did, however, enjoy having Gracie here in Stalag 13, too. She made things seem a lot easier than they actually were. Holding her made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She made life in Stalag 13 a little more bearable. With all those reasons, there was one that kept ruling out everything else he had in mind: it was not safe to keep her here in Germany. As much as he wanted her to stay with him and the boys, she had to get to London immediately. It was either that or risk letting Hochstetter, the Gestapo, or even the SS get a hold of her. And the last thing Hogan wanted for Gracie was to know he was responsible for her getting into the cold clutches of the Germans under Hitler's command. No, she had to leave; that was final. He decided to push those thoughts out of mind and just focus on what was happening in the present. He looked back down at the baby in his and smiled again.

"Sure wish more people could be like you, sweetpea. Maybe we wouldn't be stuck in this war if it were that way," he said softly

He smiled, stood up and walked over to Gracie's crib, then gently lay her down inside it. Hogan knelt down besides the small bed and watched her for a while as he rocked her in the crib. He opened his mouth and began to softly sing 'Yankee Doodle' to her.

Another day came by, and Hogan and Newkirk were standing against the barracks wall as they watched Kinch, Carter, and LeBeau play a game of soccer. Hogan held Gracie, wearing yellow footie pajamas, up against his shoulder and bounced her softly. It made her smile and coo once and awhile, making both he and Newkirk beam in the glistening sunlight. She also looked around at her surroundings to make out what everything and who everyone was. There was so much to see, so much to hear, so much to learn. She wanted to take in as much of it as she could.

Had Gracie not been there, the Englishman would have been taking a drag on a cigarette. The colonel had made it very clear, though, that under no circumstances was anyone to smoke around the baby. The men all agreed to it, her being the only exception for it. Had it been one of the other prisoners, they would have made that man just suck it up and deal with it.

At the moment, both Hogan and Newkirk were distracted from watching the soccer game. They saw Klink's office window opened with the kommandant himself pacing back and forth like a mad man. His facial expression looked tired and worn, yet alert and on the edge. Usually that was not a problem; all the men in Stalag 13 knew how Klink got when expecting a visit from General Burkhalter. This, however, was a completely different situation. He seemed to be on apprehensive and scared blind about something. Something that was psychologically disturbing and causing him to get very little sleep. Hogan could not help himself but wonder what it was the man was so shook up over.

"Am I the only one noticing it, or are you seeing Klink act more anxious than usual recently, too?" He asked Newkirk.

"He does seem to be a little bit more jumpy than usual, Sir," the corporal answered.

"I wonder why."

"Could have gotten one of them chain letters in the mail."

"No...Klink thinks those are just a bunch of teenagers trying to get a scare out of adults...I think he's trying to hide something from everyone else around camp and Burkhalter. But I'm not sure what."

"Come on, Colonel. What would Klink have that he felt the need to hide from everybody?"

Hogan pursed his lips and tried to generate a few ideas, when he was brought out of his thoughts by Carter screaming his name.

"Colonel, watch out!"

Before he realized it, there was a soccer ball flying towards him. Hogan swiftly ducked down and held Gracie's little head protectively. The ball smacked against the barracks wall before falling to the ground a few feet in front of him and Newkirk. He rose to his feet and gave Carter an angry glare.

"Carter, I told you and the guys to not to kick the ball over here! You could have seriously hurt Gracie!"

The technical sergeant turned a bright red and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry, Colonel; I wasn't paying attention and suddenly noticed the ball flying towards me. I guess I panicked and whacked it over in your direction on instinct," he said.

"Well, pay more attention next time, or you'll be seeing the rank of corporal flying at you."

"Yes, Sir,"

Hogan gave one more warning glare, then returned his attention to Newkirk. Gracie made little noises, causing Hogan to turn his head downwards and smiled at her.

"You okay, there? Almost got your head taken off there." He cooed.

Gracie smiled at Hogan and made more coo noises. The American colonel chuckled and began swaying gently back and forth with Gracie. He paused when he looked up to see Baker entering inside the barracks. He stopped the sergeant.

"Baker," he said.

"Yeah, Colonel," Baker answered.

"Take Gracie inside the barracks and into my quarters. Stay with her and make sure she doesn't start crying or anything."

"Roger, Colonel."

The assistant radioman gently grabbed a hold of the newborn, placed her in his arms, then the two disappeared inside the barracks. Once out of sight, he looked to his English corporal again and began a new conversation with him. It ended before it even started, when they both heard a door slam shut and saw Klink make his way towards Carter and the others. He was steaming hot with anger for some reason, and neither Hogan nor Newkirk had realized the man had seen everything occur from his office window.

"Sergeant Carter!" Klink bellowed. "What do you think you're doing here?!"

"Just playing a little soccer, Kommandant. Why, what's wrong?" Kinch asked, furrowing his eyebrows with confusion.

"What's wrong! You could've seriously injured Colonel Hogan! You realize what you could've done had that hit him hard enough?"

"Aw gee, Kommandant; I said I was sorry," the technical sergeant groaned. Great, he thought. Someone else to give him grief about it.

"Sorry's not good enough this time, Sergeant! Don't you know how dangerous it is for him to be around an environment such as this in his current condition?!"

Carter's eyes wide, both confused and a bit terrified. Sick? Was Hogan sick with something? He had not heard anything regarding him being sick.

"Condition," Carter repeated. "What condition?"

"Condition!" Hogan exclaimed.

"Hogan, stay out of this! Any type of stress is not good for you right now," Klink ordered. With that being said, the German colonel walked over to LeBeau, who was currently holding the soccer ball, and yanked it out of his grasp.

"Hey!" The French corporal cried.

"This ball is confiscated from all the prisoners until further notice!" Klink remarked, his blue eyes blazing.

All the men moaned and slowly dispersed to join in other activities going on.

"Kommandant, I wanna know about this supposed condition I'm in," Hogan ordered.

"One more outburst out of you, Hogan, and I'll put you in the cooler for the rest of war...even after the war!" He snapped. The kommandant turned on his boots and made his way up into the Kommandantur's, slamming the door behind him with a loud 'bang'!

The American colonel raised his eyebrow and turned to look back at Newkirk.

"Newkirk," he began, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "What did Klink mean by 'my condition'?"

"You're guess is as bloody well as mine is, Sir," the corporal answered.

Carter bolted towards to Hogan, his jaw hanging slightly ajar.

"Colonel, you're sick?" He asked, the anxiety visible in his voice. "Are you all right? Is it serious? What is it?"

"No, I am not sick...not that I'm aware of, that is." the colonel said, crossing his arms.

"Well, if you're not sick, then what was Klink talking about?" Carter replied, his anxiety quickly melting into deep confusion.

Soon enough, Kinch and LeBeau were gathering around their commander and asking him the same questions.

"Colonel, what did Klink mean by 'your condition'?" LeBeau asked.

"What condition exactly do you have, Colonel? Is it serious?" Kinch added, just as concerned as the others.

"I have no condition that I'm aware of. I just had my physical with Wilson last week, and he hadn't reported anything that was worth concern. A little weight gain, but nothing life-threatening or anything. Unless he found something afterwards, which even then he would tell me before reporting it to Klink." Hogan clarified, trying to think of a logical explanation for the kommandant's sudden, neurotic behavior.

"But you're not dying...right?" Carter asked, the last word sounding more like a plea.

Hogan gave a friendly smile.

"No, Carter; I'm not dying. I'm as healthy as can be, I assure you," he said kindly.

The young sergeant gave a small smile back and nodded.

"Good; 'cause I'd sure hate to lose yah, boy. I mean Colonel." He replied.

Hogan smirked.

"Well, Sir," Newkirk started. "What do we do?"

"Let's get into my office quick and turn on the coffee pot. I've got a feeling Klink will be having a meeting with Schultz in a few minutes," the Allied officer answered, heading for the barracks door.

"Why Schultz?" LeBeau asked, befuddled.

"Isn't it obvious? Who's Klink been spending the last couple of days with chit chatting about something privately?"

All the men turned to face one another, nodded, then went inside the barracks and into Hogan's quarters. They plugged in the fake coffee pot, flicked the switch to turn on the device, and tuned in their ears to what would become the most bizarre conversation they had ever heard.

Klink was pacing furiously back and forth across his office. He was growing impatient with his slow, lazy sergeant of the guard. It was not long before Schultz opened the office door and appeared inside the room. He stood tall and proudly saluted his commander.

"Here as you requested, Herr Kommandant," Schultz said affirmatively.

"What took you so long? I requested your presence twenty minutes ago!" Klink scolded.

"Herr Kommandant, I would have been here sooner, but there was a big fight that broke out in barracks fifteen. I've told Colonel Hogan a hundred times to separate those two corporals into other barracks', but he wants them to come to neutral terms with one another. I think he's crazy, but that is just me."

"I called you here exactly because of Colonel Hogan," Klink made his way to his desk chair, picked up the soccer ball from earlier, and made his way back to his sergeant, showing him the spherical object. "Schultz, what is this?"

"That, Herr Kommandant, is what the prisoners call a 'soccer ball'."

"I know what it is, dummkopf; what's it doing here in camp?!"

"It's used for recreational sports and exercising, Herr Kommandant."

"Do you realize that this almost killed Hogan's unborn babies earlier this morning?! Schultz, I told you to get rid of every dangerous object in the prisoners' grasp until further notice."

"You consider a soccer ball a dangerous item?"

The colonel threw the soccer ball above Schultz's head, making it hit the door that lead into his quarters. It slapped against the door and rolled back to Klink a few feet ahead of him.

"That object is a walking hazard for Colonel Hogan and the twins that he's carrying. Now I want it gotten rid of at once!"

"I will make sure it never happens again, Herr Kommandant. I swear to you, Herr Kommandant."

"It better not...or you'll be carrying a full field pack marching through the streets of Stalingrad."

"Jawohl, Herr Commandant...please don't send me to the Russian Front, Herr Kommandant. It will never happen again."

"Oh Schultz, what am I going to do? I've got a prisoner with a baby on the way, and I have no idea on what I'm going to do with it. If it stays here, it will be in without a doubt serious danger. If I give orders to hand it over to the Luftwaffe, Colonel Hogan will without a doubt refuse to hand his child over. Those are the only two options I have been able to come up with, and both of them are terrible ideas."

"You could always tell General Burkhalter the truth."

"Schultz, what kind of suggestion is that?! Should I call Major Hochstetter and tell him he looks like an angry, little troll while I'm at it?!"

Klink plopped into his desk chair and put a hand to his pounding head.

Schultz snickered a bit, causing the kommandant to shoot back a harsh, fiery glare. The sergeant fell silent almost instantaneously and looked back at Klink timidly.

"Klink thinks I'm having a baby?!" Hogan exclaimed.

"Two of 'em," Newkirk added.

"Impossible," Carter said, shaking his head. "Your body just isn't capable of doing so, Colonel."

"Thank you...Dr. Obvious," Kinch remarked, his arms crossed.

"Blimey...Klink's more bloody crackers than I thought he was." The Englishman gasped.

LeBeau was trying to hold back his snickering, but it proved useless. He earned an unamused glare from his commander.

"What's so funny?" He asked. "You know what'll happen if Klink tells Burkhalter this?"

"I'm sorry, Colonel...it's just a little funny is all." LeBeau answered, fighting back a grin.

Kinch smirked, finding Klink's wild assumption a bit hysterical himself.

"It is kinda funny, Colonel. Who knew Klink would fall for such a ridiculous idea," he said.

"But how? Where in the world would Klink get the idea of that I'm..." Hogan paused briefly, then shuttered as he paced back and forth across his room. "I can't even say the word."

"You mean preg..." The technical sergeant was quickly cut off by the colonel.

"Carter!" He moaned.

"It could have been when I jokingly told Schultz about Gracie," LeBeau suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

"Old Schultzie must have taken it the wrong way when he heard it. Got it even more twisted up when he heard us talking about Colonel Hogan possibly having twins someday," Newkirk concluded.

Hogan stopped pacing, turned to face his men, and gave a devious grin. His brown eyes were just twinkling with mischief all over.

"I know that look; Old Gov'nor's up to something."

"What are you thinking of, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"If having twins is what Klink wants, then having twins he'll get." Hogan replied, grinning from ear to ear.

"What do you mean?" Carter asked, dumbfounded.

"I mean were gonna go along with Klink's wild scenario to give him a taste of his own medicine." Hogan turned to his French corporal. "LeBeau, find a small pillow; I want it to make me look at least four months...you know."

"Oui, Colonel," LeBeau replied. He ran out of the room and headed for the fake bunk bed. Once he was out of sight, Hogan made his attention to the remaining men before him.

"Kinch, Newkirk, Carter, help me think of what I can say and act like to make this real convincing," he said. "I want Klink on the verge of having a panic attack with this one."

"I know some people get food cravings. Usually it's a food they particularly aren't fond of, but make of it as you will, Sir," Kinch answered. "You eating raspberries by the bowl would make it real convincing."

The colonel puckered his face.

"Uck," he remarked. "I hate raspberries...but I guess I'll live through it. What else do you boys got?"

"Some back pain maybe, but make it minor. Klink might order you to severe bedrest otherwise," Carter said.

"I know people get bad mood swings; happy, angry, crying for no absolute reason, laughing at something that wasn't entirely funny...you get the point, Sir." Newkirk added.

Hogan nodded, taking careful note of everything they were saying.

"Okay," he answered. "I think I can manage that."

"Boy, Klink's gonna flip his lid about this," Carter said energetically.

"Men, Stalag 13's about to gain two more prisoners," Hogan spoke, smiling devilish.

Kinch, Newkirk, and Carter turned to one another with devilish smiles of their own, then turned back to Hogan and nodded.