I do not own any of the characters from the series Hogan's Heroes. However, I claim ownership of any original characters appearing in this story.

This story is a follow-up to "Monkey Business" (season 3), an episode which I visited in a previous story, "It's A Jungle Out There". If you want to know more about "the kangaroo incident", you'll find it there.

"Here comes Schultz. Ten bob says he'll fall for it."

"Ten bob? Betting beyond your means, aren't you? What have you got to back it up?"

"Expectations. Which is more than you can boast, you lousy Pommy bastard. Are you game?"

Newkirk cocked a speculative eye at the approaching Sergeant Schultz. "You ever known me turn down a wager? All right, MacDonald, you're on."

The big Australian grinned, then, as Schultz came within earshot, raised his voice: "All I'm saying is, I'm glad I don't have to chance my arm outside the wire at night. There's some things a man shouldn't have to face. If the Jerries can't keep their wild animals inside the zoo, they shouldn't be allowed to have 'em."

"You know they got their tiger back," said Newkirk, with the casual air of a man who had already lived his hour of glory in relation to big cats.

MacDonald scoffed. "Tigers? There's worse things than tigers out there. You just keep an eye on the patrols outside the wire. When they start coming back with one man less than they had to start with, you'll know why – G'day, Schultz, 'owyagoin, mate, orright?"

Schultz scowled at him. "I have asked you before, MacDonald. If you will not speak German, at least speak English."

"Okay, keep yer 'air on."

Schultz uttered a low rumble of disapproval. "What were you talking about?"

"Nothing you'd be interested in," said Newkirk. "We were just discussing the cricket."

"Cricket?"

"Test match. Barracks 4 against Barracks 6."

"Oh, is that so? That's not what it sounded like."

The Englishman and the Australian regarded him with matching expressions of mild condescension. "And just what would you know about a gentleman's game like cricket, Schultz?" enquired Newkirk.

"Who won?"

MacDonald fielded this one: "Won't know till they finish playing."

"And when will that be?"

"Another three days or so."

Once again, Schultz gave a wordless growl. "Jolly jokers. There is no game that lasts three days."

"Well, of course not," chortled Newkirk. "It's five days for a full test match."

"I don't believe it," Schultz grumbled. "And what is more, you were talking about something happening outside the wire. I heard you with my own ears."

Newkirk and MacDonald looked at each other. "You know what?" said MacDonald. "I'm going to tell him. Even if he's a Kraut, he deserves to be warned about what's out there."

"Out where?"

"Out there." MacDonald waved a hand towards the woods which surrounded the camp. "Right about where the night patrol goes every night. I'm surprised any of you have survived."

"Nice try, MacDonald," Newkirk put in, "but Schultz is too clever to fall for it. Don't pay any attention to him, Schultz. He's just pulling your leg. It's a joke."

"Would I joke about something like this? If you'd seen what I've seen..." MacDonald trailed off.

Schultz boggled at him. "Wh-wh-what have you seen?"

MacDonald hesitated, then gave a hollow laugh. "Nah, don't worry about it. You don't want to know. Anyway, it probably won't happen to you, unless you're on the night patrol – oh, are you? Sorry, Schultz, I didn't know. Well...look, just don't worry. It won't do you any good."

He turned around, as if heading back to his own barracks, but Schultz called him back: "Wait, MacDonald. You said I should be warned, even if I am a Kraut. So you have to tell me what is out there."

The anxious note in his voice caught the attention of a couple of the other guards as they approached from opposite directions, and their steps slowed. MacDonald glanced at them, then turned back to Schultz. "All right. On your own head be it. Quite literally. They always go for the head."

He put his hand on Schultz's shoulder, and leaned forward in a confidential manner, ignoring Hübner and Herbst as they inched closer. "Let's start at the beginning. Remember how the animals escaped from the Hammelburg Zoo after the bombing raid a couple of months back?"

"Oh, I am not going to forget that," replied Schultz emphatically. "They were all around the woods here for days afterwards. Some of them even got inside the camp."

"That's right, the kangaroos got in, didn't they?" MacDonald laughed under his breath. "That was a fun day, right, Newkirk?"

Newkirk shrugged. He'd been out of camp during the kangaroo incident, but he'd heard all about it.

"But you don't need to worry about roos, mate," MacDonald went on. "No, this is something much worse. You ever heard of koalas?"

Schultz's state of alarm dissipated into scorn. "What do you think, I'm stupid or something? I have seen koalas at the zoo. Why would I be scared of a cuddly little teddy bear?"

"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" observed Newkirk. "Told you, Schultz, he's having you on."

"Yeah, sure." MacDonald folded his arms. "Okay, Schultz, just imagine something just like that cuddly little teddy bear. Only it's not so little, and it's not so cuddly. And if it gets a chance, it'll kill you."

Newkirk gave voice to a skeptical grunt. "And just how would it do that, chum?"

"It's an ambush predator. Lurks up in the trees, for hours and hours, just waiting for you to wander past, and then, pow!"

Herbst uttered a squeak; Hübner's eyes bulged, and Schultz almost jumped out of his skin. "W-what?"

"It drops out of the branches, right onto your head," said MacDonald. "That's why they're called drop bears."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Now you're just having a laugh. Even Schultz isn't that daft. If there was any such thing as a killer koala, he'd have heard about it."

"That's right. I would have heard about it." But Schultz didn't seem to be completely sure.

"Besides, even if these so-called drop bears exist, and one of them has escaped from the zoo, and is hanging about in the woods," Newkirk went on, "the guards are all wearing steel helmets. They'd be safe enough."

MacDonald sniggered. "You reckon? A fully grown drop bear's a big beast. Think about it, Schultz, a hundred and fifty pounds of bone and muscle dropping onto your head from the top of a tree is no laughing matter. At the very least, it'll break your neck." He glanced at Hübner, who had drawn his head down between his shoulders as he considered the likely consequences of such an impact.

"And after that?" asked Herbst in a hushed tone.

"Well, after that," MacDonald went on, "our cuddly little friend can set about getting inside your helmet, which won't take long. The only thing more terrifying than a drop bear's claws are a drop bear's teeth. He'll rip that helmet open like a tin of sardines, and as for your skull..." He finished with a low whistle, shaking his head.

For a few seconds Schultz stared, his mouth open as he considered what horrors MacDonald must have left unsaid. Then he slowly relaxed into a chuckle. "Very funny. A ferocious animal hiding in the woods? Nobody would believe such a ridiculous story. You two, get back on patrol."

He dismissed the other guards with a gesture, and trundled off in the direction of the sergeants' mess. Newkirk glanced sideways at MacDonald. But MacDonald wasn't ready to pay up yet. "Okay, Schultz, suit yourself. But we're used to having you round the place, so do us a favour, all right? If you hear anything up in the trees while you're out in the woods at night – leaves rustling, or twigs breaking, or something that sounds like a demon cat from the depths of Hell that's just had one of its tails run over by a tank – don't stop to look, just run."

Schultz brushed this off with a wave of his hand, and kept going.

"Well?" Newkirk looked at MacDonald with his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his lips.

But MacDonald grinned back. "Not yet. Let's give him a couple of nights on patrol before we call it."

Two nights later, Newkirk had almost forgotten the whole business. To be fair, he had other matters on his mind by then. For one thing, he was halfway up a pine tree, with the splintered end of a broken branch digging into his spine. He moved a little to the left to get away from the spike, but a soft creaking from the limb beneath him warned him not to risk anything more.

If the goons heard that...!

It should have been a doddle. Leave camp after lights out, meet the Underground courier at the Cafe Mandelbaum, get back before he was missed. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, in the first place, his contact had turned out to be a girl. A very pretty girl, small and neat, with heart-melting brown eyes behind long lashes, a sweet, asymmetrical smile and a distractingly good figure. A clever girl, too; she'd had no trouble brushing off every one of his chat-up lines. Not that he'd given up easily, but for once persistence hadn't paid off; all he'd come away with was a keen sense of disappointment and a detailed map showing the location of the new testing site for some new German rocket-powered interceptor plane.

His attempts to prolong the rendezvous had made him late getting back to camp. This was not unusual, so he hadn't been too bothered about it. He hadn't even been worried when he heard the guard patrol approaching, just before he got to the tunnel entrance. Dodging the goons on the way back from a mission was all in a night's work. All he had to do was withdraw into the undergrowth until they'd gone by. Tonight, there was an additional guarantee of success, as solid as anyone could hope for, because Schultz was in charge of the patrol.

So as soon as Newkirk's ears had picked up the heavy plodding of Schultz's footsteps, and the unmistakable sniffle which accompanied Hübner's chronic hay fever, he had taken cover within a small thicket of young birch trees. That, as it turned out, had been his first mistake.

The second mistake had been his reaction when, just as he thought the coast was clear, an unexpected and very unwelcome voice had reached his ears: "Spread out, men, and keep your eyes open. He must be close by."

There was nowhere for Newkirk to retreat; the saplings had him surrounded. His only possible refuge was an ancient pine standing at the edge of the thicket, and he was halfway up the tree before he'd even thought about it. He had no idea how Major Hochstetter had managed to pick up his trail; but he knew what the consequences would be if the Gestapo found him outside the wire, wearing a German uniform and carrying secret military information.

The worst of it was, Hochstetter's arrival attracted the attention of the patrol. Schultz came lumbering back into view, uttering a high-pitched, slightly hysterical challenge: "Who goes there?"

"Keep your voice down!" Hochstetter snapped.

"M-Major Hochstetter?" Schultz lowered his rifle. "Thank goodness it is only you. I thought it was something – I mean, someone else."

Hochstetter advanced on him. "You thought I was someone else? Tell me, Schultz, who did you think I was?"

"N-nobody, Herr Major. At least..."

"Bah!" Hochstetter cut him off. "I have reason to suspect there is an enemy agent somewhere in these woods, disguised as an officer of the Wehrmacht. Have you seen or heard anything suspicious?"

"I – I see nothing, Herr Major."

Hochstetter swore under his breath. "The man was certainly heading in this direction. How can he have disappeared?"

"M-maybe the drop bear – "

Herbst finished up with a hiccough as Hübner gave him a sharp nudge, and Schultz hastily stepped into the breach: "Are you sure he came this way, Herr Major?"

From his position in the tree, Newkirk couldn't make out the look on Hochstetter's face, but he could imagine it, and it wasn't pretty. "He was seen to enter these woods, and is certainly on his way to Stalag 13."

"B-but why would he want to come here?"

"Why indeed?" Hochstetter turned on his heel, as two SS men came racing up. "Well?"

"There is no sign of him, Herr Major. He must have doubled back."

"So close to his destination? No, he must be somewhere nearby, waiting for a chance to reach his goal." Hochstetter looked around. "There are two possible directions he could have taken. We will spread out. You two, go that way. I will take this path. Schultz, come with me. As for these two..." He contemplated Herbst and Hübner for a few seconds. "Unlikely as it seems, they look even more incompetent than you, but they will have to do." He jabbed a finger at Herbst. "You will stay here and keep watch. And you," he snapped at Hübner, "go back along the trail. If our quarry has gone back that way, he is sure to return. Keep quiet, and do not forget, I want this man alive. If a single shot is fired, heads will roll."

"Bitte, Herr Major," asked Hübner tentatively, "should we not stay together?"

But Hochstetter had already gone, with a reluctant Schultz in his wake.

The two goons looked at each other in consternation, then Hübner gave an abject, catarrhal snort and set off to carry out his orders; and Herbst was left alone, pacing back and forth in front of the pine tree.

Newkirk was getting pins and needles in his lower extremities. He shuffled a few inches along his branch, but it gave another creak, followed by a crack, and he froze.

Below him, Herbst swung round, first one way, then the other. "Who's there?" he quavered. He was a nervy beggar at the best of times; left on his own in the dark, with an unknown, unseen enemy lurking somewhere nearby, he was liable to panic, forget Hochstetter's last threat, and open fire.

Either that, or he'll think MacDonald's drop bear has come for him, and he'll run like the clappers, thought Newkirk; and with this thought, suddenly he knew exactly how he could get Herbst out of the way.

He rejected the idea at once. Too risky by half.

On the other hand, you can't stay up this bloody tree for the rest of the war.

That settled it. He drew a deep breath, leaned forward, and emitted a low, menacing growl. Herbst spun round again, staring wide-eyed into the undergrowth as he searched for the source of the sound. He opened his mouth, but couldn't get a word out, and he clutched his rifle in front of him as if trying to hide behind it.

The branch cracked again. Newkirk felt it giving way beneath him, and he made a desperate grab for a higher limb. He latched onto it just in time, but almost let go as the shock of his full weight yanked down on his arm and shoulder. The branch crashed to earth, and Herbst uttered a wail of pure terror and flung himself face down across the path. His cry was echoed by a distant shriek from Hübner.

Newkirk didn't stop to think. He let go of the branch and made a rapid and undignified descent to ground level, landing in a heap at the base of the tree; then scrambled up and dashed towards the other side of the path, leaping over Herbst. As he dived into the shelter of the bushes, his foot caught on an exposed root, and he staggered and almost fell, but he made it into cover just as Schultz's voice sounded along the path: "Ach, du liebe – Herbst! Was ist passiert?"

For a few seconds Newkirk kept still, his heart pounding and his breath tearing in his throat. Then he turned around, suppressing a gasp as his shoulder gave a sharp twinge. He was going to know about that for a few days. His ankle hurt, too, and the palms of his hands were stinging where he'd scraped them on the bark of the pine tree. But he'd got off lightly, so far.

Peering through the foliage, he could see Schultz hovering over the unfortunate Herbst, who had managed to sit up. Hochstetter was there, too, his pistol in his hand. Within seconds, the pair of SS men stormed into view, almost bowling Hübner over as he came flying back from his solitary watch.

"What is going on?" demanded Hochstetter. "We heard shouting. I knew he would come back this way. Why didn't you arrest him? Where is he?"

Herbst was beyond making any response other than a high-pitched wheeze and a vague gesture in the general direction of the birch thicket. It was enough for Hochstetter. With an incoherent snarl of rage he took off in pursuit, his men racing after him.

"We will catch up with you," called Schultz, very quietly. He and Hübner had just managed to haul their unfortunate companion to his feet. "But first, I think we should take Herbst to the medical officer."

By this point, Hochstetter and his men could be heard trying to force their way through the saplings, making so much noise that they wouldn't have noticed if Schultz had shouted at them through a megaphone. Hübner, however, expressed his concurrence with a sniff, and Herbst with a little hysterical whimper. Taking that as permission enough, Schultz and Hüber closed up on either side of their stricken comrade, and the patrol started back towards Stalag 13. Newkirk breathed a soft sigh of relief. Another few moments and he could make a run for the tunnel entrance.

He rose up, then dropped again. Schultz had come to a stop. "Just one thing, Herbst," he said. "Was it..." He looked around nervously, then lowered his voice: "Was it the drop bear?"

Herbst gaped at him, blinked a couple of times, and finally opened his mouth to reply; but Schultz held up his hand. "Shh! Don't tell me."

He squared his shoulders, took a firmer grip on Herbst's arm, and marched his men away. Newkirk waited a few seconds longer before he moved off. A minute later, he reached the safety of the tunnel entrance.

No doubt about it; he should have been relieved. He'd gotten out of it much better than he had any right to expect. But there was one little niggle of discontent at the back of his mind.

He'd got himself out of a proper mess, that much was true. But he'd also lost his bet with MacDonald, and that stung even more than the bumps, bruises and scrapes he'd picked up along the way.

MacDonald was lounging outside his barracks after morning roll call. Newkirk strolled across from Barracks 2, and took up a position leaning against the wall next to him.

"All right, you won that one," he said. "Serves me right. I underestimated the one constant in this war – Schultz's gullibility."

"Yeah, he's a real galah, is old Schultz," replied MacDonald. "But I'll admit it, I wasn't sure he'd buy it, let alone those other two boofheads. Drop bears, lurking in the bush outside the camp? How likely is that?"

"Yes, I've heard some tall tales in my time. But that one was an absolute cracker."

"Bloody oath," drawled MacDonald. He paused, then added: "I mean, the zoo in Hammelburg never even had any drop bears. There's no zoo in the world can hold one of those bastards."

Instantly, Newkirk turned a searching gaze on him. MacDonald was looking out, past the barbed wire and beyond the wood towards the town. His eyes had narrowed, and his mouth was set into a thin, grim line. For a few breathless moments, Newkirk teetered on the edge of wondering whether, in fact, the whole fantastic yarn was actually…

But the idea was too disturbing to contemplate, and his subconscious rejected it before it had even taken form.

A speculative gleam came into his eye, as Corporal Langenscheidt came into view on his usual patrol. "Time for round two. My turn, double or nothing. And this time, there won't be any drop bears. What do you say?"

MacDonald chuckled, deep in his chest. "All right, Newkirk. You're on."