A/N The show had some little quirky flaws. Here are some of them. Written with the deepest admiration for the creativity, ability to find humor even in the dark and work of the show's creators. Finally finished after years in the making.

Road to ... Somewhere

Colonel Robert E. Hogan, US Army Air Forces, sighed contently as the truck rumbled along the way. For fighting in a foreign land, he surely had found a nice, almost magical, place. The vegetation always reminded him of the summers he'd spent in California, as if he'd taken this place with him. The plants and trees not only looked like the usual California landscape, they also smelled like it.

Carter, sitting to Hogan's right, drove the borrowed truck. Stalag XIII was extraordinary - from housing officers and enlisted men together, to freely sharing trucks and fuel in wartimes. Run by Colonel Klink, it clearly was the toughest POW camp in Germany - just for which army was yet to be determined.

The clear sky and nice weather provided the perfect background for their important mission from London. Apparently Hogan had also brought the California weather with him as it never rained. Their latest job required the whole team. Usually it was frowned upon if a CO went on missions himself, but their unique situation made this necessary regularly. Besides, he got lucky, nobody ever checked in or looked at the camp while he was away.

Hogan scratched his neck. The gray German uniform fit well but itched. On his nameplate stood proudly Major Hoganmueller. He just wasn't sure if the insignias matched the branch and rank but with so many different outfits it was easy to get confused. Who cared about the difference between Gestapo and SS as long as the job got done?

Carter slowed down as they neared a crossroad.

"Kinch?" Hogan asked, directing his voice to the back. Hiding there with Newkirk and LeBeau, his radioman waited for his part of the mission.

"Sir?"

"Which road do we need to take?"

After some rustling as he handled his maps, Kinch poked his head through the tarp. "Straight ahead is Hammelburg."

A deep frown. "London said the ammunition factory is near Düsseldorf. Hammelburg in Bavaria is too far away."

"All right. I'll use the other map."

Hogan waited. Suddenly a slight breeze caressed his face.

"Do you smell this?" Carter asked excitedly. Nobody with a steel helmet and the name Carterhausen should look so joyful. "It's seaweed. We're near the sea."

Still wrong. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Hogan waited for Kinch to find the map of the day. "Kinch?" The smell of the sea went away, making room for the bitter reek of the industrial Ruhr area.

"Got it." Kinch sounded triumphant. "Left. The road leads to a bridge we need to cross -"

"Wait. Didn't we blow this one up just last month?" Carter made no move to steer the truck in the right direction.

"Oui," LeBeau voiced his agreement from behind. "I remember it vividly."

They all did. It had been impressive, especially as a train was just crossing. Hogan could still see it in his mind. The bridge. The train. The explosion. It all happened perfectly synced. It could've been straight out of a movie. A scene for eternity, worthy to be repeated again and again.

Taking the risk to find his way impassable, Hogan pointed to the left. "Let's go."

"Sure boy, I mean, sir."

As Carter started again, Kinch added from behind, "Shortly before the bridge, there's roadblock according to Schultz. He almost hadn't been allowed through."

"No weekend pass again?" Hogan asked in jest, despite knowing that it could've been the real issue.

"No, just a soldier taking his job serious."

For a moment Hogan seemed worried. Then his frown smoothed out. "Newkirk's forgery is probably better than the original."

"Of course!"

While Hogan couldn't see the British corporal, his voice carried the proud note clearly.

Just as Kinch had warned, in view of the still standing bridge, a roadblock manned by three soldiers barred their way.

"Halt!" A young lieutenant, barely old enough to carry his assault rifle, a Sturmgewehr 44, stepped in front of the truck.

Carter slowed until they stopped while Hogan leveled his best relaxed yet annoyed glare at the German lieutenant.

"Ihre Papiere, bitte!"

"What's going on?" Hogan handed them over while the other two soldiers moved around the truck. Newkirk knew how to forge the necessary paper, even without a good original as he always seemed to guess the right words and format. But this time the lieutenant didn't let them pass. Instead, he hesitated, glancing from the papers to Hogan and back down again.

"Is there a problem, lieutenant?" Hogan said. "We need to be on time in Düsseldorf."

"Well ... sir," the lieutenant stammered. "You -" Then the young German seemed to remember his job. He straightened and said, "You need to come with me."

Hogan glanced at Carter, trying to gauge whether they could just drive through the roadblock. But at the other side of the bridge more soldiers waited. They'd just run into open gunfire. With a fake smile on his face, Hogan jumped out of the truck, ready for act two. "Do you know what this delay is costing us?"

"Sir-"

"The war! We cannot afford to lose any more time. You could be tried for treason. Or do you want to be sent to the Russian front?"

"The Russian Front? What's that?"

Hogan frowned. The word alone usually froze a German soldier. But the exemplar in front of him didn't seem bother.

"Oh, you mean the Eastern Front. I come from there," he said with the expected shudder in his voice. "And I don't want to get sent back, so I cannot let you pass without an explanation."

Hogan opened his mouth for another tirade but then stopped himself. "Explanation for what?"

"The truck." Helpfully, the lieutenant pointed to the monstrous vehicle behind them.

"What's wrong with it?"

"It has the wheel on the right side."

Hogan blinked. Then he turned and looked.

"In Germany, we drive on the right side of the road. That means the driver is sitting left."

Right. Thinking fast, Hogan went with the first best idea. He leaned forward. "You have a good eye. I think we'll forget about the trial."

"The truck, sir?" Like a dog with a bone, this soldier wasn't deterred easily.

"This is a highly classified matter. I cannot share details with you but ..." Hogan lowered his voice further. "We prepare the invasion."

"France?"

"No," Hogan whispered. "To Britain. We can't bring out trucks, so we need to practice driving theirs." Proud of his quick thinking Hogan straightened. His charm once again saving the day.

"Oh. I understand," the lieutenant whispered. "You're into deep cover. That's why you speak so badly German."

Hogan paused. He considered his German passable, just short of perfect. "Accent too heavy?"

"No accent. Just ... we're speaking English. I couldn't understand what you said in German. Lucky for you, I'm from Minnesota. You'd sound perfect there."

Hogan pressed his lips together, as the lieutenant gave him a conspicuous nod. "Your papers are good. For Britain." With a last salute, the German soldier sent them off.

Still thinking about the strange encounter, Hogan wasn't paying attention to his surroundings until LeBeau cursed.

"It's the same bridge."

"That's bonkers. How did the German rebuild it this fast?"

"I hope they did a good job, because we're driving across it right now."

"We blew it up. I pushed the trigger myself!" The tarp couldn't conceal LeBeau's anger. "By now, we have blown up all bridges around here."

At first, Hogan wanted to deny it because it was impossible but as he focused on the details of the bridge, he reached the same conclusion.

"Where are all the soldiers?" Carter asked instead of offering his opinion about the bridge. "Weren't they supposed to be here?"

They were but somebody had forgotten to keep them around. This could happen. "Doesn't matter, we have an important ammunition factory to destroy."

"Hopefully, this one stays destroyed. It's scary how fast they rebuild everything." Kinch the voice of reason.

Hogan nodded.

They made good time and arrived in Düsseldorf without too much trouble. The roads were well enough, the paperwork good for any kind of obstacle. Hiding the truck in plain sight by leaving it unguarded in the middle of the road, the whole team left. Hogan and Carter were in uniform, while Newkirk, LeBeau and Kinch wore black clothes.

With a grin, Hogan noted that the ammunition factory appeared deserted. Taking it as the gift it was, they threw Carter's bombs and left as fast as possible.

From a safe distance, they watched the explosion together. And while Hogan's team celebrated their win, Hogan fought against a terrible thought. Rubbing his eyes, Hogan pictured the scene, remembering the details. They ran to the barbed wire, threw their explosives and then everything went boom. It all seemed extremely familiar.

"Sir?" Kinch never missed anything.

"Am I the only one with a déjà vu?"

"What's a déjà vu?" Carter asked confused.

"If you have the feeling you'd experience something already," Kinch explained. LeBeau probably had known and Newkirk was too proud to ask. "And to answer your question, sir, I seem to remember some similar explosion last year."

"Oh, you mean, like blowing up the bridge? If we had seen it before?" Carter's face relaxed again in the way it did when he figured something out. "Sure, it's always the same."

"Why didn't you say something?" LeBeau demanded.

Carter shrugged. "As long as I'm the demolition expert here, we have the same explosion for every tunnel or bridge or building," he explained. "It always looks identical."

"We fight like crazy and don't make any progress?" Newkirk asked. That hurt. All the sleepless nights for nothing but the same explosion, night after night.

"That's ..." LeBeau looked like he wanted to cry.

"Look at the bright side. We know that this explosion will also have worked. We now just need to figure out how to get new material."

They accept the small comfort like good airmen and returned to their truck.

"How do we get back?" Newkirk asked. "I'd vote against another encounter with the trigger-happy lieutenant."

"There's no other route," Kinch said. "It's the only bridge that will bring us back to Stalag XIII in time for roll call."

"Actually, that's not correct."

Startled, Hogan and his men swirled around, facing a small woman standing between two trees.

"I'm Maria - your Underground contact."

"You're big bad wolf?"

"Ja." The woman said, opening her headscarf, allowing her long blond hair to fall to her shoulders, giving the agreed signal. "I need to leave for London tonight, but I wanted, just once, to see Papa Bear and his cubs myself."

Hogan stared. Newkirk, Kinch, LeBeau and Carter also stared.

Time slowed down, thankfully, as it gave Hogan enough space before German soldiers'd appeared to investigate the explosion. He stepped nearer, enjoying the smell of perfume, driving away the remnants of ash and gunpowder. He adjusted his uniform and received a small smile from Maria for his efforts. They only had a moment together, but a kiss would be enough. He closed his eyes as a finger tapped his shoulder, destroying the moment.

"Begging your pardon, governor."

"What is it, Newkirk?"

"I haven't flipped my magic coin yet."

Hogan sighed. "Why would you need to do that?"

"Well, we need to figure out whether the girl-of-the-week is foe or friend."

The woman, finally in Hogan's arms, didn't seem to mind. "All right, corporal. Throw the dice."

"Only a coin, sir." Newkirk played with it. "Heads means she's a Gestapo agent; tails she's a random Underground agent and if it lands on the edge - she's a competent female leader."

Hogan raised an eyebrow at the third option, but he hoped for tails. He didn't want to kiss a Gestapo agent again.

Newkirk threw the coin in the air, caught it, flipped in on his other hand and opened it.

Tails.

With a grin, Hogan turned back to the woman in his arm. "Fräulein Maria, I'd rather spent some time with you, but we need to get back to camp."

"Please don't leave me. Just come with me. Right behind the next crossroad, there's the way back to London. If we go now, we'll be home before the night is over. If you stay, your road back is filled with uncertainty and danger. You don't need to stay here and fight."

It sounded tempting. Apparently not only Hogan considered this option. All of his men were eagerly listening to the comforting offer from the woman with golden hair.

It was LeBeau who first shook his head. "London? What do I want in this terrible city? If your road would lead to Paris, I'd take it."

Kinch was the next who took a step back. "London isn't bad, but it's not the city where I can prove something to myself and the history books."

Carter shrugged. "I need to figure out how to really destroy this bridge, not reusing old footage."

"What about you, Colonel Hogan?" Maria asked. "Everybody would understand if you cannot take it anymore. You were already through it once - volunteering for your duty and paying a high price for it. You can also fight from a distance, you do not need to do it here in Germany. Come with me."

Hogan breathed out slowly through the nose. "Tempting, Fräulein, but I have a duty." It was more than that, but the word duty captured it perfectly.

That left Newkirk who still stared longingly in the direction of the road to London.

"Pierre?"

Not only LeBeau was worried. Hogan also wondered what his British corporal was thinking.

"I'd be home. No more screaming, no more fear, no more anger, no more wondering if what I do is enough or even the right thing."

"No more opportunity to offer a helping hand, to protect the one person you can actually protect," Kinch said, laying a hand on Newkirk's shoulder. "No more chances to make a difference."

Newkirk scowled. Then he nodded. "You're right, mate."

With a satisfied sigh, Hogan turned back to the helpful Underground agent. "We may not know what the road ahead brings us, but we know our duty and know that we can make a difference, even just for one downed pilot. We are shortening the war."

"Well, then you need to take this road." Maria pointed to the opposite direction. "Good luck."

LeBeau, Newkirk and Carter climbed into the truck, returning to their respective seats. Kinch hung back. Understanding he wanted to talk without an audience, Hogan also slowed.

"You meant it?"

"What?"

"Shortening the war?"

"Of course."

"Well," Kinch paused, "hate to break it to you, sir, but it may not be working."

Hogan frowned.

"We started 1942 our little Travelers Aid Mission. And we're running already for five seasons. That means ..."

Hogan scoffed and quickened his steps. "Our days are filled with so much work, it just feels longer."

Carter started the truck, it roared to life, and they were back on their way. The road was uncertain, the destination nebulous, but Hogan knew that he only had to navigate one crossroad after the other. He didn't need to know them all right now.

Carter braked hard.

"Blimey!" Curious faces peeked from the back.

"Damaged by last bombing raid," Hogan read the sign in the middle of the road. "Construction work needed."

"Of course we'd run out of luck just as I blew off the opportunity to good home and leave this mess," Newkirk muttered.

Hogan looked around, hoping that Maria was still around. As if his wish became reality, Maria appeared at the treeline.

"We can't go this route," Hogan explained as he had reached her just a few steps away from the truck. It seemed to be a German tradition to build all of their roads through forests without clearing much of the trees. But he wouldn't complain as it provided good cover for their missions.

"But it's the right one."

"Lady," Newkirk called out, "there are bomb craters. We shouldn't drive -"

"You need them, Corporal. It's the only road with plot holes big enough to drive a truck through. You hit the right one, and you're back in your camp without having to deal with uniforms, fences and how to get into a POW camp with a big truck unseen." With that Maria vanished into the woods, never to be seen again. Just like the German soldiers who were still absent.

And they stayed absent as Hogan climbed back onto the truck.

True to her word, Hogan and his men hit the perfect plot hole and arrived in the camp soon afterwards.

But their greeting was rather unwelcoming with both Sergeant Schultz and Colonel Klink waiting for them in the motor pool.

"Colonel Hogan!" Klink planted himself in front of Hogan, shaking a fist. "This time you went too far."

Hogan put his hands into his pockets and grinned; his men forming a semicircle behind him. "What do you mean 'too far'? We just went to Düsseldorf."

The End

A/N Thanks for reading. No matter what the new year will bring, may you always have hope, strength, courage and humor to face it all!