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.

Cover image: Wenceslaus Hollar (1607 – 1677)

Once again, here we go…

All right, so I'm not an officer, just a plain, ordinary enlisted man. All the same, I think I'm allowed to have an opinion, and my opinion is that I'm sick of it. All of it. I'm sick of the war, I'm sick of being in the army, I'm sick of being stuck in this lousy prison camp, and I'm really, really sick of the bunch of clowns I'm stuck here with.

I shouldn't even have been drafted, what with the hiatus hernia and all. But the army doc said it was just indigestion, and the army food would fix it. Yeah, sure it did.

But the thing is, I'm not army material. I'm a natural coward, I was born that way. They should have let me off just for that. Of course, they didn't, and of course they sent me to England and stuck me in a B17 as a tail gunner, and of course my very first bombing raid over Germany ended up just like I thought it would.

Okay, maybe I jumped from the plane earlier than I should have. Watching it fly off into the distance while I was still mid-air, I felt pretty sick. But that might have been a bit of reflux, seeing as I threw up when the parachute opened.

I'll admit it, I thought the worst was over when the Krauts picked me up and sent me here. It's not exactly a five-star resort, but our side won't bomb a POW camp, so I thought it'd be safe. Safer than flying bombing missions, anyway. All I needed to do was keep my head down, stay quiet, and wait for the war to be over.

Boy, was I ever wrong about that. I don't know what goes on at other camps, but here in Stalag 13 there ain't nobody allowed to sit it out. These guys are getting up to all kinds of stuff that prisoners of war ain't supposed to. Since I've been here, there's been a radio tower blown up, a cannon factory and a synthetic fuel plant demolished and a munitions train blown to smithereens. There was an army general and a Gestapo major both wiped out – on the same day! And let's not even get into what happened during the SS regiment's training exercise.

Sooner or later, the Germans are going to wise up, and when that happens, it's gonna be murder round here. And I mean, murder. But that's not the only reason I've been trying to steer clear of it. The main reason is, they're such a bunch of jerks.

This is what happened a few days ago. We – I mean, some of the guys in my barracks – we'd been assigned to a work detail, fixing up some of the roads around camp. Well, I didn't want to do that, so I went to the goon in charge and told him about my peptic ulcer, and how it had kept me awake all night, and he let me off. For a Kraut, Schultz is all right.

Anyway, I went back to the barracks and got into my bunk, and since it's so cold in there, I pulled the blanket right up over my head to keep my ears warm.. Now, my bunk's right in the corner, as far from the middle of the barracks as it can get. So when Colonel Hogan and his little gang came back in from wherever they'd been, they didn't even notice I was there, and I was half asleep and didn't really wake up till I heard one of them say my name:

"Shipley? Yeah, he's a real piece of work."

"He sure is. Boy, I'd like to punch him right in the face."

"So would every other bloke in camp, Carter. Join the queue."

"All right, settle down." That was the colonel. "Up to a point, I agree with all of you. Shipley's not the easiest man to get along with. But for now, we're stuck with him. And you never know, he might – might – turn out to be useful."

I think it was Kinchloe who answered him. "I doubt it, Colonel. I know you like to think everything that exists can be put to use, but I think Shipley might be the exception."

I should have jumped up and given him a sock on the jaw for that crack, but he's a lot bigger than me. So I just kept quiet. It was pretty hard, though, when the whole gang joined in.

"Well, at least we can take some comfort in knowing he's one of a kind."

"Dieu merci."

"Yeah, that's right. All the prisoners we've had through here, and none of them have been anything like Shipley. None of them have been so friendly…"

"None so brave…"

"None so honourable…"

"None so... innocent…"

"That's a bit unfair, Newkirk." Kinchloe again. "We don't know if it was him who swiped your cigarettes. As a matter of fact, he probably didn't. He's supposed to be asthmatic, remember?"

"Oh, he's anything you like, if it gets him out of doing any work. I'm surprised he didn't try to weasel out of today's work detail. He's just the type."

"Some days, Newkirk, so are you," said Hogan. "Anyway, Shipley's not our main concern right now. Kinch, is the meeting set for tonight?"

"All set, Colonel. The rendezvous is at the old mill on the Bauersdorf Road at twenty-one hundred hours. The agent's code name is Turquoise. She's a secretary in the Transport Ministry, pretty highly placed, and she's got some good intelligence for us."

"Will she be coming back with us?" Definitely the little Frenchman, and from the sound of things, he was hopeful.

"She doesn't have a choice. Once her bosses realise there's been a leak, they're gonna hone in on her. For her own safety, she has to get out."

There was a chortle from Carter: "With you guys around, she might not be much safer here."

His buddies started up at him, but Hogan cut them off. "Okay, before you all get too excited, Turquoise is not just some girl coming into camp, she's a valuable agent in need of our protection. So back off. Understood?" He waited a couple of seconds, then went on. "All right, now we're all on the same page, let's make sure it goes well. In the meantime, Klink's got a new code book, and I'd like to get hold of it today."

"What, right now?" Newkirk sounded pretty annoyed about that.

"Why not? It won't take long. I'll distract Klink, while Newkirk gets into the safe and grabs the book. The rest of you can keep the guards busy. After that, maybe some lunch, and then we can make a start on planning the Meilenheim Bridge job."

"You don't think we're overdoing things a bit, Colonel? That's a lot for one day."

"It's called multitasking, Newkirk."

"That's not even a real word."

"It is now. I just made it up, and you'd better keep it in your vocabulary, because we're gonna be doing a lot of it from now on."

"Brilliant. Thanks for a wonderful war."

The barracks door opened, and I heard them leaving. I waited for a bit before I looked up, in case anyone was still hanging round, but they'd all gone.

So there I was, in a real mess. What was I supposed to do – pretend like I didn't know what was up, or spill the beans to the Krauts, and maybe get a bit of credit in with the Kommandant? Either way, I was in big, big trouble.

Note: And here we are again, with another Short Story Speed Writing Challenge. The rules, and the story prompts, can be found in the forum here on ffnet.

If you're having trouble getting to the forum, please let me know by private message and I'll send them back the same way. Since I'm in Australia, and the time zones don't necessarily coincide, you can contact Abracadebra if you think I might be asleep, and she'll respond on my behalf.

Start writing, and have fun, and I'll see you all in two weeks.