This is the final chapter! Thank you to everyone for your support. All of your feedback helped and prompted me to expand the story. (which was originally 11 chapters in my outline!) Thank you for your support of my O/C, Sgt. Maddock! He was thrown into a situation and performed his duty. I think he deserves a promotion and lots of medals. I had several readers beg me not to kill him off! (wasn't going to happen...this is marked general/humor)

And I bounced ideas off a lot of you! And asked your opinions. Thank you for all of your personal help! Abracadebra, Bits and Pieces, Book-em-Again, ColHogan, Konarciq, Missy the Least, Sgt. Hakeswill, Sgt. Moffitt, Willwrites4fics. There may be others, and if I missed any of you, my apologies.

Please check the forums for more information regarding camp numbering systems, my sources, etc. It may take me a while to put the information together, but I should hopefully post something sometime in November.

Chapter 35

Epilogue: Egg on our Face

The person considered most responsible for making good use of the naming errors was enjoying a rare weekend off. She spent some time with Corporal Langenscheidt, and then met with Oskar and Greta Schnitzer for brunch on Sunday morning. Max and Otto were also present, and Helga updated her friends with the latest information on the numbering issue.

"Colonel Hogan will work on permanently removing the only remaining mine blueprint from the Dusseldorf office," she reported between bites of Greta's delicious pastry.

"I still cannot believe all this was wrong from the beginning," Otto said.

"Well, yes and no." Oskar had a hard time wrapping his head around exactly what was incorrect, but as far as he knew, the numbering mistake still existed and it still played an integral role in setting up the tunnel system, and the operation. "Whether it is thirteen, six or two, it does not matter. It is what it is, and thanks to Helga here, and the inefficiency of every department, our role is clear. The tunnel system gets bigger, and we expand our operation."

"Well, I still feel we should have noticed the error as well. After all, you have all seen the maps." Greta refilled the empty coffee cups and cut some more slices of cake.

"Well, my dear. Colonel Hogan said that when he was still in England, his superiors did not even notice. And we are all amateurs," Oskar told her.

Helga giggled. "You should have seen the Kommandant when he figured out his camp should be labeled Luft Stalag 2. Or at least that is what we think. He was insulted. But thankfully, Colonel Hogan put thoughts into his head, and the matter is closed. I agree it is quite confusing, and I don't blame anyone for thinking it should be numbered camp six."

"Not even that officer that came in two years ago?" Max asked.

"No, not even Wolfram Gratz," Helga replied. "Besides, he supposedly told the Kommandant, and I quote."And now I've forgotten your name, and your pitiful camp."

Wehrmacht Oberst Wolfram Gratz was a bureaucrat of the first order. Caring little about the war, politics, or ideology, he determined his place in the scheme of things was to make sure every T was crossed, every I was dotted, and that everything was filed in accordance with regulations. In other words, he created fear and turmoil in his path. He had not thought about the small POW camp in Hamelburg (with one 'm') for quite some time-over two years-in fact; which, not surprisingly, coincided with the inspection he conducted. However, a small notice in a journal garnered his attention. Luft Stalag 13, led by Oberst Wilhelm Klink, was apparently escape-proof. Not only that, but the camp now proudly housed an American colonel, the capture of this man leading to the promotion of one General Biedenbender.

Gratz cared little about Biedenbender or the American. What he did care about was Klink's inability to change the camp number to the correct number; number six, reflecting the military district in the area. Gratz felt a bit magnanimous this morning, and he decided to give Klink the benefit of the doubt. The Kommandant appeared to be scared of his own shadow, and he thought Klink must have attempted to rectify the mistake. So, Gratz controlled his anger and decided to investigate. Perhaps the writer of the article made a mistake. He picked up his phone. "Oberfeldwebel, come in here, please."

Gratz's Master Sergeant was a man made of the same cloth; his life and work revolved around regulation and discipline, and he eagerly dealt proficiently with any task. He entered Gratz's office and saluted. His salutes were, of course, crisp and per regulation.

"Look into this for me. I informed this Kommandant over two years ago that his camp number was incorrect. Verify if the journal made an error and if he got the number changed, or if this camp number is still against regulations."

The sergeant glanced at the article and looked up. "Yes, sir. I will have the information for you by the end of the day." He saluted again and spun on his heels.

This sergeant went right to the source. He called the camp, and then apologized for calling the incorrect phone number. So it is still thirteen, he noted. Gratz did not inform the sergeant what the correct number should be, but the sergeant knew exactly where to go for that information. After several minutes, he sighed. This was a pickle of the first order, he decided. Rectifying the mistake would mean more changes down the line. Nevertheless, regulations were regulations, and these mistakes could not go unnoticed. What would happen to the German army if no one followed the rules?

"I have discovered that the number of that camp in Hamelburg has not been changed," the sergeant reported to Gratz shortly afterwards. 'Perhaps changing the thirteen to two would cause an issue with the other camps down the line, and he decided not to comply. Or his superior, General Burkhalter, ordered him to let it go." He then stepped back and waited for his superior's reaction to his report. It was not what he expected.

"Two? What do you mean, two?" Gratz stood up and walked in front of his sergeant. "It should be six. They are in the sixth military district."

The sergeant, secure in the knowledge that he was correct, and that his superior was mistaken, made a fatal mistake. He pointed out the error. "Luft Stalag numbers are normally assigned based on the order in which they opened. Klink's camp opened not long after the camp at Barth, which began with no number and then went to two, and is now Stalag 1. Though it appears that numbers and locations have moved around, I do not think the military district plays a role in numbering."

"Are you insinuating that I do not know my numbers?"

"No, sir. I never said anything of the sort."

Gratz, seeing the smug look on the sergeant's face, realized he never liked his aide. His posting was due to some family connection, and his propensity for showing off was downright irritating. He dismissed the man and then removed a map from his drawer. Sure enough, he never noticed the discrepancy. Somehow, he must have missed the memo, or he neglected to read a section of the procedure manual. Gratz took out his anger at himself on the absent sergeant, and decided to send his aide packing.

"You think you know so much about regulations and prison camps. How would you like to be assigned to the system? No more cushy Berlin posting for you."

Like many officers working in the bureaucratic maze of the Third Reich, Gratz was unable to own up to his own shortcomings. It was also safer to let some things go. With numbers, names and locations of these camps changing all over the continent, Gratz put the Luft Stalag numbering issue out of his mind for the rest of the war.

Meanwhile, Oberfeldwebel Reinhold Franks worked his way through the entire prison camp system. After raising the efficiency rating at Stalag 5, he ironically found himself sent to Luft Stalag 13 to help whip the camp into shape after the Kommandant received a bad report from the Inspector General. Unfortunately for Franks, his unstoppable force met up with an unmovable object, and he was defeated by a group of men whose ability to arrange the type of shenanigans that brought Franks down, were a direct result of the naming mistake that got him sent to the POW camp system in the first place. This irony, of course, remained a secret to everyone.

the end

Franks appeared in the season 2 episode, "Colonel Klink's Secret Weapon." After a poor grade from the Inspector General, Klink acquires Sergeant Franks, who knows every regulation in the book. Eventually, Franks runs the men ragged and threatens Klink with a trip to the Russian Front (what happened to Feldkamp from Stalag 5.)The men trash the camp and ruin Franks' uniform, getting the best of him...using regulation against him. A downed flier, Lt. Bigelow, (who suspiciously looks like Sgt. Olsen) takes Franks with him to London. (rather than the Gestapo). Klink boasts to Hogan that he got rid of Franks on his own. There is a detailed description of the episode on the Hogan's Heroes' wiki.