Disclaimer: I do not own Hogan's Heroes.

Author's Note: I was kind of tired when I first read the prompts, but an idea popped into my head instantly when I saw them. Believe it or not, this is actually a less ridiculous version…

Every substance on earth has a weak point. Now what those weak points are varies from object to object, but they all still have weak points. For example, if you wanted slay a dragon, you would look for the weak spot in his scales. If you wanted to sink a ship, you would aim the cannon at water level. And if you wanted to keep Colonel Hogan from getting back to camp on time, you would throw a squirrel at his head.

You wouldn't immediately think "squirrel," would you? And yet the sad fact remains that Colonel Hogan, the brave and dashing mastermind, was felled by a squirrel. Or rather, the squirrel fell from its precarious perch right above his head and brought the good Colonel down with him.

Now ordinarily this would not be too much trouble. After all, if it had ever happened before, and no one is saying that it ever did, the underground agent he was meeting would simply step back in shock before coming to his senses and taking action. He might mutter a quiet, "again?" while slinging the unfortunate gentleman over one shoulder and carting him off back to camp, but the fact remains that he would take the Colonel back to his camp so as not to miss roll call.

And yet things do not always happen the same way every time, and not every underground agent in Hammelburg knew exactly who the Colonel was and where to find his return address. So when a regular midnight meeting went awry in a rather bushy-tailed manner, one agent decided to break with custom. "Well," he told himself as he grabbed a limp wrist and dragged the larger man through the forest and back to his car, "that was unexpected. Still, maybe if I take him home with me the others will know what to do."

Unfortunately for all involved, "the others" had no clue what to do other than to pull off his shoes, loosen his tie, and tuck him into bed. After all, he had to wake up some time. So as the sunrise got closer and closer and the underground agents fondly nicknamed Papa Bear das Eichhӧrnchen, roll call approached in Stalag XIII and the prisoners realized that their fearless leader was not there. It was not a funny situation.

Irony, however, is.

"We have to do something!"

"We know that, Andrew. So either give us an idea or be quiet so the rest of us can think of one ourselves."

At Newkirk's disgruntled comment, all of the prisoners went silent. There was less than ten minutes before Sergeant Schultz would come through the door and herd them out, and by now they were all certain that the Colonel would not make it back in time.

"If it were any of us, the Colonel would just convince Klink that we were in the cooler and that Klink forgot," LeBeau suggested, but Kinch stopped him.

"There's no way Klink would believe he forgot about sending him to the cooler. He might believe anything else, but you know how he feels about one-upping Colonel Hogan."

"Well then it's simple," Carter chimed in, "we just get Klink to believe that someone else is the Colonel."

"And how do we do that?" Newkirk asked.

"We tell him that he forgot what the Colonel looks like. Or we could make him think he needs to get his eyes examined."

"No," Kinch sighed, "Colonel Hogan could convince him of any of that. But we would need Colonel Hogan to actually be here for that to happen. Besides, then we would have to explain why the man pretending to be the Colonel is not at roll call. We don't have any escapees in the tunnel to pull into service right now."

"I still think it's a good idea," Carter muttered. All the men fell silent again for perhaps half a precious minute more. All of a sudden Carter cocked his head to one side as though listening. And then, before anyone could ask what he thought he heard, he lunged to the side with his hands outstretched, landing on one side with his back to the others. He was still for a moment. "I've got it!" he suddenly cried victoriously.

"Got what, an idea?" Olsen asked, confused by the other man's actions.

"No, the squirrel that's been making noise in the rafters." Carter sat up and turned so that the others could all see the bulging-bellied beast he held by the stomach. It was a testament to Carter's skills with catching animals that the others did not need much time to process this latest catch.

"What good does that do?" Newkirk asked, making a note to himself to personally see that Carter washed his gloves before touching anything else.

"Now we don't have to listen to him scampering around up there all night," Carter said, not quite getting why Newkirk, as an upper bunk person, was not even happier about it than he himself was.

"The Colonel is gone and we can't cover for 'im! The next step for the Germans is to drag in Hochstetter, and he'll make short work of this entire camp, and you want us to be happy that you caught the squirrel." Several prisoners muttered agreements with Newkirk's assessment, and Carter's smile faltered a little.

"Wait," Kinch said, holding up a hand. All mutters stopped, and a thoughtful expression, not unlike the Colonel sometimes wore, crossed Kinch's face. "It's a long shot, but if we do this right, it just might work."

"You expect me to believe that this is Colonel Hogan?" Schultz asked in amazement as he stared at the group of poker-faced prisoners. "But that is impossible!"

"Schultz, we don't have an explanation for it either," Kinch said seriously, "but he was like this when we went into his office a minute ago."

"Why did you go into his office?"

"He wasn't awake yet, and we didn't want him to be late for roll call. We all know how Klink doesn't like that, so we wanted to make sure you would not get in trouble."

"But are you sure it's him?" Schultz questioned again, touched by how kind the prisoners were to him but still surprised by what they were telling him.

"As sure as we can be."

"He even got up and started trying to pace, like how the Colonel does when he's thinking," Carter added.

"Ja, he does pace. Soon he will wear a hole in the floor."

"See, it is him. No ordinary squirrel would do that," Kinch pointed out.

"But how did he turn into a squirrel? I have told you time and again to stay out of monkey business."

"Schultz, we honestly have no idea what happened to him. He seemed fine last night, and no one saw him between then and now. Your guess is as good as ours."

"But a squirrel?"

"You wouldn't immediately think 'squirrel,' would you?" Olsen agreed, and LeBeau nodded.

"But what will I tell Colonel Klink? He is sure to ask about this."

"Just tell him the truth. Colonel Hogan turned into a squirrel overnight. He can't possibly argue with you about it."

Schultz still seemed unsure, but then Newkirk appeared in front of him with two chocolate bars, and the guard gave in.

When Hogan woke up, he was surprised to find himself in a soft bed in a cozy room. The furniture was handcrafted, woodland creatures chirped happily outside the window, and the sun shone brightly and merrily.

"Wait a minute," he thought. "I should be at roll call long before now!" And with that, all the coziness of the room turned to choking concern. He flung aside the handmade heirloom quilt and jumped out of bed, his stockinged feet hitting the woven woolen rug with a tiny thump (after all, cozy cottages inherently muffle all noises). He stuffed his feet into his shoes and made to walk to the door when suddenly it opened.

His contact from the previous night peeked in and, seeing that the guest was awake, smiled and stepped in. "Good morning," he said cheerily, setting a tray with an egg and slice of toast on the bedside table. "I hope you are feeling better. That strike you took to the skull had you out cold before I knew what was happening."

"Strike?" Hogan asked, not remembering being attacked and wondering how they escaped an attack if he had been unconscious. The man in front of him hardly looked capable of a daring rescue.

"Strike, blow, bolt from the blue, or however you want to call it."

"Did the attacker get away?" Hogan asked, puzzled as to why this man seemed so fine with everything.

"Of course he did, the nimble little creature. I almost think he was more shocked to fall on you than anything else."

"Fall on me?" Hogan faltered, trying to block memories from past times that he used to hope were not real.

"Ja. You wouldn't immediately think 'squirrel,' would you?"

"Actually I did," Hogan muttered, his worst fears confirmed. "But why am I here?" he asked, clearly changing the subject to one less perilous. "I needed to be back with my men this morning."

"Ah, that is the hard point. We both know the value of not revealing our true identities, and I simply had no idea where the best place to take you would be, so I brought you to my group's safe-house. It was the best I could do on a short notice."

"Okay," Hogan agreed, understanding the man's reasoning even if he did not like it. There was no telling what was happening back at camp now. Based on the position of the sun, it was several hours past roll call, and Klink would no doubt have all the men he could spare out looking for him. It would not be easy to sneak back into camp.

Still, the idea of squirrels, as dreaded as the crafty creatures were, gave him an idea of how to reach the camp again. Considering the context, it would be hatefully humiliating, and yet it just might work.

Klink could not believe what he was hearing. "You expect me to believe that that is Colonel Hogan? People cannot turn into squirrels!"

"Shh," Newkirk soothed the squirrel sitting on the Kommandant's desk before sending Klink an affronted glare. "You shouldn't call 'im a 'that.' He might be a squirrel right now, but we think he can still understand us."

"Hrmph. Why would you think that?"

"Well, you wouldn't immediately think 'squirrel,' would you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"If you were turned into a squirrel, you wouldn't immediately think only in squirrel language. After all that time of bein' a human, you'd still remember a lot of English."

There was a brief pause in the conversation while the squirrel fiddled with the latch on Klink's humidor. "I still don't believe that it is really him. After all, it—he—is grey."

"Grey?" Newkirk asked, actually looking puzzled by Klink's reasoning. But then Schultz agreed with his commanding officer.

"Ja. Colonel Hogan might be going grey, but I would think he would be more of a brown squirrel."

"See, it actually makes sense," Kinch corrected the two Germans. "This is an eastern gray squirrel. They originally come from America. I know it sounds impossible for a man to turn into a squirrel, but it makes sense for Colonel Hogan to turn into one usually found in America."

Klink and Schultz looked at each other, neither knowing enough about squirrels to tell if Kinch was telling the truth, but neither willing to admit it in front of the prisoners. They all watched as the squirrel, still wearing the miniature bomber jacket Newkirk had whipped seemingly out of nowhere before they came to the Kommandantur, put its tiny cap on top of Klink's helmet.

"Fine, he can stay with you. But until he turns back into a human, he is no longer the senior POW officer."

Kinch and Newkirk scooped up the squirrel and left the Kommandantur. That had been easier than either man expected. Still, it hadn't hurt that the squirrel had magically behaved in all the right ways.

By the time Hogan made it to his destination, his nerves were in bad shape. It was normal to suspect every sound around you as belonging to the enemy when you had the same occupation as Hogan and his men, but now Hogan found himself suspecting every sound above him as well. Every time the wind whistled through the leaves, he had the urge to look up and make sure there was no freefalling fluffball coming his way from the skies above. The urge was strong. So much so, in fact, that he almost wished it were raining, just so he could have an excuse to use the perfectly unparalleled protection of an umbrella.

Still, he made it to his destination relatively unscathed, and the familiar sounds of dogs barking made him relax just a little. After all, no squirrel would go near a barking dog.

Glancing around one last time, Hogan walked up the short path and knocked on Herr Schnitzer's door. He tried not to look anxious as he waited, but after the past few hours he'd had, waiting at the door was not fun. At last he heard footsteps approaching on the other side, and the door opened to reveal Herr Schnitzer Senior. Thankfully he recognized Colonel Hogan and motioned for him to come inside.

"Is there something we can do for you?" the older man asked him as he motioned for Hogan to take a seat.

"I need to be smuggled back into camp in the dog truck. I was meeting a contact last night, and the mission went wrong. Now roll call has passed, and I need to get back into camp without any search parties finding me first."

"I am sure Oskar will help you," the elderly veterinarian assured him, "but he was already called to the Stalag this morning. All he was told was that there was an emergency with one of the animals."

Hogan processed the information, guessing that LeBeau must have made up the story to keep the inevitable search parties from using the dogs to track him. He was proud of how good his men were at making last-minute judgement calls.

"Okay," he acknowledged. "I can wait until he gets back."

Oskar Schnitzer examined the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed bundle in his hands, wondering whether the squirrel was in shock from so much handling or just unnaturally calm around humans. He knew the prisoners here were good with animals, but there was just something slightly unbelievable about the fact that the squirrel was accepting its newfound lot in life as calmly as if it really were Colonel Hogan. He almost shuddered at the thought, not wanting to imagine what schemes were going through the miniature beast's brain right now.

"Well," he told Colonel Klink and Sergeant Schultz as the two looked on. "I can say that this is most certainly the real Colonel Hogan. If nothing else, the glint in his eyes should tell you everything." Oskar had no idea what was really going on here, but he understood the hints from the prisoners well enough to know what his role here was supposed to be.

"I still can't believe it," Klink moaned. "How could the prisoners start turning into squirrels? If this is some new escape plot, I'll never hear the end of it from General Burkhalter."

Oskar glanced at the prisoners standing just close enough to overhear the conversation, silently asking if he should keep talking. One of them made a small motion for him to continue, so he took a deep breath and started talking again, making sure to keep his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don't think that this was done by the prisoners," he told Klink, who looked up at him in surprise.

"What do you mean? Who else could have done it?"

"The sorcerers."

"The sorcerers? What do you mean?"

"My family has lived here longer than you know, and there are stories about sorcerers turning people into animals whenever they wanted to get rid of someone without killing them."

"And you think someone would want to do that to Hogan?"

"Maybe not as the real target," Schnitzer said, leaning in closer to Klink. "They may have been practicing for someone else, or maybe the spell missed the real target and hit your prisoner instead. After all, if a sorcerer wanted something to go unnoticed, he would probably disguise his plan by turning the target into something commonplace. If you were looking for a missing man, you wouldn't immediately think 'squirrel,' would you?"

"I suppose not," Klink agreed, "but what do you mean by the real target?"

"People always try to get rid of other people who have power," Schnitzer replied, gesturing vaguely at Klink's uniform. The officer instantly gulped at looked around suspiciously, and Oskar knew his hint had been received. He liked to think that he could tell an entertaining story when he wanted to, and he knew that as long as he kept the details vague, the prisoners could twist whatever he came up with to best fit their plans.

"Does your family remember how to turn the animals back into humans?"

"I do not know," Oskar ruefully answered the scared man. "But I can go home and ask my father. He knows much more than I do about the old stories."

Klink nodded to him, and he motioned for Schultz to come closer. "I want all the guards on full alert until the sorcerers are captured."

"But Kommandant, what will we do with them after we catch them?"

For a moment Klink looked puzzled, as though he was unsure what to do next with his plan. Then he relaxed as he settled on an old standby. "Ninety days in the cooler to whomever turned Colonel Hogan into a squirrel!"

When Oskar finally reached his home again, he was still no closer to figuring out why Hogan's men were claiming that the Colonel had become a squirrel even though he thought about it during his entire drive back. He knew that Papa Bear had some unusual schemes, to say the least, but this one seemed far more ridiculous than usual.

And then he actually walked inside his house, and there Papa Bear was in the flesh—and he most certainly was not a squirrel.

"Colonel Hogan," Oskar said in surprise, "Why are you here?"

The Colonel sighed a bit, ducking his head and pinching his nose. If it were not unthinkable, Oskar would have said he looked slightly ashamed. "Long story short, I was delayed getting back to camp. I need to get back in there now without any guards or search parties finding me." The Colonel hesitated and glanced up at Oskar and his father, seemingly misinterpreting their expressions as asking how he would explain his absence. "I'm thinking once I'm in, I'll say I won a game of hide-and seek that started last night."

"Colonel Hogan," Oskar said, "there are no guards or search parties looking for you. They think you're still in the camp."

"They do? Why?"

"Your men—they told the guards and the Kommandant that you, well, that some time last night, you magically turned into a squirrel."

Colonel Hogan paled far more than Oskar would have thought. After a few beats, he finally spoke again. "Why would my men say that?"

"That is a good question," Schnitzer Sr. agreed, rubbing his chin in speculation. "If you were trying to explain a missing man to your prison guards, you wouldn't immediately think 'squirrel,' would you?"

"I do not know," Oskar replied with a small shake of his head. "I have been trying to figure it out ever since they told me. I had to pretend that you had been turned into a squirrel by a sorcerer who was practicing to take out your Kommandant."

"And he believed you?"

"You would be surprised by how much that squirrel acts like you."

"So now I have to figure out how to pretend to be someone who turned back into a human after being a squirrel," Hogan groaned. Oskar had the vague feeling that Hogan had a grudge against squirrels, but he was not really sure about it.

"Ha, you could get a beautiful fräulein to come into camp and kiss the squirrel!" Schnitzer Sr. laughed.

"Nein," Oskar said, not believing there were many women who would want to try that, even for a good cause. "I have another idea instead."

Two hours later, the veterinarian's vehicle pulled up to the camp gates. Oskar was of course driving, and beside him were his father and a nice elderly lady named Gretchen that he knew from Hammelburg. In the back of the truck was Hogan, hidden away and hoping that no one would think to look in there and find him.

"You are back already?" Sergeant Schultz asked. "I thought you said it could be weeks before you found out how to break the enchantment."

"We were lucky," Oskar explained. "Gretchen was visiting with my father when I told him what had happened, and they started comparing the stories they knew from childhood. They remembered just enough to know who to ask for the counterspell." Oskar waved a piece of paper in the air in front of him, and Schultz reached out and took it.

"This does not look like any language I've ever read," he muttered.

"It is special," Gretchen told him sincerely. "Those little boxes all have their own meanings, if you know how to read them."

"I know nothing," Schultz replied graciously as he handed the paper to the elderly lady, who bestowed him with the sweetest smile she had. Oskar took the familiar mantra as a sign to proceed, so he backed his truck up next to the Barracks 2 window, giving Colonel Hogan as good of a way to sneak into the place as possible.

Schnitzer Sr. and Gretchen got out of the truck and started walking around the camp, pretending to argue over where the most magical piece of ground was but instead moving towards another barracks window. All attention was focused on the two of them, so Oskar took the opportunity to pull one of Hogan's men aside.

"Bring them the squirrel and a smoke bomb." The man nodded and hurried off. When he returned, Oskar's father and Gretchen were in place, now no longer arguing but instead talking about how the weather was affecting their joints lately. They stopped as the leather-lapelled squirrel was brought closer, and Schnitzer Sr. reached out to take it in his hands. Oskar motioned for everyone, prisoner, guard, and Kommandant alike, to stay back, presumably because it was dangerous but really because they did not want anyone to have a close view. Gretchen held the paper in one hand and waved the other over the squirrel while speaking just loudly enough that no one could make out any actual words.

Then all of a sudden there was a pop and a cloud of thick smoke rose up between them. After a second or two, Oskar's father and Gretchen backed away from where they were before and Colonel Hogan, fully human and all, walked out of the smoke, coughing and trying to get a good breath after unfortunately inhaling at exactly the wrong moment.

There was a pause, and then all around the camp the prisoners, and a few guards, started applauding. Oskar smiled to himself, happy that everything had gone so well.

"And you're sure that the sorcerers won't try to enchant anyone again?" Klink asked as Oskar climbed back into his truck with his father and Gretchen.

"Ja," he replied. "Obviously they will know now that we can break their spells, so it is pointless to try. But," he couldn't help adding quietly as an afterthought, "if Colonel Hogan ever has a…relapse, let me know as soon as you can."

"A relapse?" Klink repeated, nearly dropping his monocle in surprise. "Do you think that's possible?"

Schnitzer nodded solemnly, doing his best to keep from laughing at the Kommandant's expression. "It is probably best not to tell Colonel Hogan, though. It would only upset him. And if he ever does anything strange, like hoarding acorns, don't draw any special attention to it."

Klink was left nodding bonelessly as Schnitzer pulled away.

For his own part, Hogan was glad to be back with his men. There was no way he would ever tell them the real reason why he was late, just like he hadn't the other two times, but he appreciated their quick thinking that had kept him out of trouble.

Still, as he lay awake that night, the sound of a couple of squirrels chattering on the roof was anything but peaceful.

"Squeak squeak squeakety squeakums." one chirped.

"Squeakety squeak squeakers?" the other replied, and Hogan, to his horror, almost felt like he knew exactly what they were saying.

"If Auntie Velvetears ever finds out what you did to get out of gathering duty today, she won't be happy."

"Nonsense, you wouldn't immediately think 'human,' would you?"

Author's Note: In case anyone is curious, the paper with the boxes that have their own meanings is a chart knitting pattern. They are not as common as spelled-out patterns, but I like them enough that I sometimes convert patterns into charts. I think it makes them easier to see what the overall project will look like. Also, the squirrel-speak at the end is based off the Disney movie, The Emperor's New Groove, which I also do not own.