Chapter One

Seven years removed from the end of one of the greatest covert missions ever undertaken - okay, that's the way the brass remembers it. Hogan shook his head. We've always loved our tall tales in the U.S., haven't we, Robert. Then again, he and his crew had done a good job. It paled, of course, to the terrible atrocities which he would have liked to have prevented, had he known.

Now, here he was, awakening after a flight from Tokyo to Seoul. The jet lag had quickly ended for Hogan - having stayed up many nights on missions in World War Two meant his body was almost jet lag-proof. Still, there was some semblance of tiredness as he got into a jeep. Now, this is what I like, thought Hogan. No pretentiousness, no false glory, just a man who happens to wear a general's star riding in a li'l ol'jeep.

"Remember, Sir," spoke a CIA officer, "I've met with these people. Especially that Captain Pierce - don't expect formalities too much from him."

Hogan smiled. "When have I expected formalities from anyone; aside from the expected 'Sir' or 'General' from underlings? Thanks." He took a folder from the officer, and the jeep departed.

Hogan studied the folder's items despite the bumpy terrain. "That doesn't make you carsick, Sir," came the driver, making small talk.

"No, I've been through so much worse."

"Like what, Sir?"

"Can't reveal most of it, but you wouldn't believe all the dangerous things I've done if I told you." He would tell about one or two small things if he had to. However, that statement usually quieted the enlisted men down. They were free to invent all sorts of amazing things about what Hogan used to do. The general chuckled. Maybe you've brought some of that "legend" stuff onto yourself, Robert. Perhaps it's the enlisted men who start those fanciful stories that make you seem greater than any fictional spy or detective.

Hogan scanned the compound as they entered, then smiled as he walked into the outer office. A sense of deja vu overtook him as he saw a young man in a German uniform sifting through some files. The German turned and saluted courteously. It wasn't an incredibly sharp salute, but Hogan was not his countryman, nor was the young man anxious to be a soldier. "Good afternoon, General," came the man in broken English. "Welcome to the 4077th M*A*S*H. How may I help you?"

"I'd like to speak to Colonel Potter, Lieutenant..."

"Schultz, Sir." Hogan raised an eyebrow. "The commanding officer is indisposed at the moment; he is in surgery."

Hogan shook the man's hand. "Robert Hogan, sen-." He couldn't believe he'd almost said "senior prisoner of war officer." The name and uniform - though not a Nazi one - must have done it. "That is, General, U.S. Air Force, Special Missions." A doctor walked out of a back room somewhere in scrubs as Hogan said this.

Before Hogan could consider whether to explain his near gaffe, the lieutenant introduced the medic, though without hand gestures. "General Hogan, Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce, Captain Pierce, General Robert Hogan."

Sensing the doctors felt a little uneasy, and recalling the warnings, Hogan chose to befriend Pierce quickly. He used his normal way - humor. "That was a little confusing - are you Captain Pierce or General Hogan."

Hawkeye Pierce smiled. At last, a general with a sense of humor. "You speak my language."

"I've heard quite a bit about this place. I guess Colonel Potter is still in surgery." He was. "Maybe you can help me; I understand you're treating a North Korean, Wang Hoo Li."

"I know noth-ing about that name," came the lieutenant.

I've gotta ask now, considered the general, the tone's too similar. "Say, did you happen to have a father who was a guard at a German POW camp, Stalag 13?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well, he served with me...well, I was there too. He ever mention a Colonel Hogan?"

Schultz's eyes grew big. "You're THAT Hogan?" Instantly, Hogan worried that Schultz, after the war, had begun to know all too much. The younger Schultz shook Hogan's hand vehemently. "It is an honor to meet you. I sometimes wondered whether Father made you up."

Hawkeye held up a hand. "Wait, I'm confused...you're an American, and he was a German, right?" Hogan nodded. "I thought they were on opposing sides. Or did I miss the news one day?

"Well, my dad was not," remarked the German.

"He did a whole lot of good for our side by not doing anything." Turning to the German, he inquired "what all has he told you?"

"Many amazing stories; I do not know how many are true - Father likes to tell big funny stories sometimes." He smirked. "I imagine some are true?"

Hogan smiled. "Maybe. What are you doing here?"

Pierce smiled. "Schultz is doing medical residency of sorts. He got drafted a few months ago into coming on this U.N. outing, and one of the German M*A*S*H units loaned him to us so he could learn in a slightly more advanced place."

"Just like your father, huh, don't want to be a soldier?" And like Hawkeye, too, Hogan mused.

"That is right. My father will be near here tomorrow, he rebuilt his toy company, and they are touring some of the orphanages."

Hogan looked at Pierce. "Do you think maybe he could come up and see us a little bit?"

"He'd probably like that. Write a note for Radar to see if he can get in touch with your dad."

Hogan requested that his presence be kept secret. "I'd like to surprise him. Once more, for old time's sake. Maybe I could even borrow a flier's jacket?" Hogan was graying around the temples, and about twenty pounds heavier, but he could still look the part. "Now, about that Korean."

"I'm sorry, we're not at liberty to say which side he's on, he just woke up." Pierce knew, of course, that the dog tags had clearly listed him as an enemy, but he didn't want anyone bugging him about treating an "enemy." He was a doctor, and had sworn to treat anyone.

Hogan, of course, knew this. "Look, Hawkeye," he began, taking Pierce aback at the use of his nickname, "I know where you're coming from. I dealt with friendly Germans quite often in my days in World War Two. But there are certain reasons I must speak with him."

Hawkeye sighed. "Soon?"

"The sooner the better. It could be quite vital."

He hated to disturb any of his patients, but this Hogan fellow seemed...how would he put it? Down to Earth? Certainly absent much of the legalism that the military forced upon people. He'd only saluted someone once himself - that was the boyish corporal, Radar O'Reilly, after Radar had been wounded in action. And he'd never saluted a superior. Yes, Hawkeye determined, maybe this man would understand when Hawkeye laid down rules against wearying patients. As he explained the man's medical condition, Hogan smiled, quickly agreeing to Pierce's terms. After all, that friendliness and his willingness to understand the doctor's protocol overriding military protocol were why the CIA had requested him for this mission.

Hawkeye explained that it might be very hard to communicate with the wounded warrior. However, Hogan stunned him by speaking to the man in rather fluent Korean. Pierce and Schultz glanced at each other in the post-op room as Colonel Potter exited the operating room, exhausted from an extended surgery. Before removing his bloody scrubs, he moseyed over to the men. "What in tarnations," he muttered after several moments, gawking at the American general conversing in Korean. To Pierce, he remarked "I feel like I just walked into my barn and had one of my chickens oinking at me."

"I'm just as baffled as you are, Colonel," spoke Hawkeye. To the general, he remarked "excuse me, General, I think the man is getting a little tired. He just recovered from having been turned inside-out."

Hogan bade the man adieu and stood. "That'll do for now. Oh, you must be Colonel Potter." The CO confirmed this. "General Robert Hogan." They exchanged salutes. "Can we talk in your office?"

Potter discarded his scarlet-covered doctor's items as he inquired into Hogan's business. "Not too often we get a general visiting, Sir."

"This is a special mission; I'm normally in Europe, but I heard something pretty big could be up here. And, it turns out my concerns were legitimate." He followed Potter into the office, and the two sat. "I'd done a little behind the scenes work, and had been studying Korean for a couple years just so the few times I've had cause to be over here to debrief spies I could do it. I'm very good with picking up languages."

"So I noticed. I always thought I could tell when a horse or a cow sounded sick enough to call the vet, but I doubt I could ever speak the language."

"That would be hard." Hogan considered how often he'd been in another colonel's office, back in Germany. Glancing over at the artwork on a canvas, he realized that these colonels shared a passion, except for one thing. This Potter actually had talent, whereas Klink had attempted painting several times after Hogan had conned him into it to get some secret maps to the Underground. Each time, Klink had appeared only a little better than Hogan's five-year-old niece. "I know German, a fair deal of Dutch and Russian, and enough French to get by, and now enough Korean to find out that we have a big problem."

"Anything we can help with here?"

Hogan sighed, wondering if there was anything. He'd like to be able to obtain some help, but he didn't know how Potter's group could. Then again, a doctor or two would be a big help. Hawkeye seemed a logical choice, since Schultz's son had blond hair and more would need changed with makeup. However, would Hawkeye go along?

Finally, the general decided, he had to explain a little. "Wang and his brother, Sung, run a small operation which filtered some secrets to our side. When Wang was shot down, we were hoping one of our units would pick him up and treat him; luckily, yours did." Potter nodded. "He was actually defecting."

Potter raised an eyebrow. I always told that Major Burns he needed to remember you catch more flies with honey than buttermilk, the farmer-doctor pondered. If he'd worked even a little bit at being nice to these people we might have treated some people who would then want to come over. "And his brother?"

"In hiding; we'd like to get him out if we can. However, there's a more serious problem, and it's why I got sent."

"Figured they wouldn't send a general just to debrief."

"You're right, Potter. This is my line of work. See, the Soviets want to transport some American POWs from North Korean hospital units to Soviet gulags. They're running an operation in one such camp; the people are just listed as dead or left as missing." Hogan sighed. "We could use a doctor or two; I was thinking of Hawkeye, and hoping you could help convince him."

Potter chuckled. "Don't know if you can convince him; he's as unmilitary as they come."

"You know that German you've got on loan, Schultz? His dad was the same way. But he looked the other way for us. Hawkeye's work would be proactive; actually stopping this planned shipment. And, part of his work would be doing surgeries."

"And you infiltrate and get them out later." Hogan nodded. Potter was starting to understand. It did sound like Hawkeye would be okay with it, but he saw two problems. "First, how long would this be; he's our best doctor, I don't want to lose him."

"Just a couple days; we'll say he's on loan."

"Okay, and second, he doesn't speak Korean. Unless there's a lot he hasn't told us about himself," Potter concluded. Nobody could be that secretive, could they? Then again, what had this elder Schultz been up to? Seemed like their young doctor hadn't told them everything about his dad, either, except that he liked to spin tall tales. Then again, maybe Dr. Schultz didn't realize they were true.

"No, he doesn't, but how many Koreans know any Russian? They could think English was Russian if they've never heard it."

Potter nearly guffawed. "I'm sorry, General, it's just that this idea is starting to sound outlandish. Almost like when Tom Sawyer went through all those crazy stunts to free Jim when he was already free to begin with in 'Huck Finn.'"

Hogan smiled. "I've been told my ideas are unusual, but they've always worked." As Potter contemplated the man skeptically, he deduced that perhaps later, a story or two should be told about his operation. He would just corroborate whatever Schultz happened to have told. Back to the present problem, he explained. "It makes sense, a Russian doctor on loan for the last part of this mission doesn't know Korean, I'd have to translate, I know Korean."

"Hmmm..."

"The Koreans there don't know Russian or English; at least early on we'll have to figure out which do and don't know any. They hear a man speaking a very foreign language, they're told it's Russian, and what do they know?"

Potter was beginning to warm to the idea. As long as his best doctor wasn't in any danger, he could use Schultz as a replacement for a while, though he was only, basically, a med student. After all, they merely patched people up there for the better hospitals in Tokyo. "General, that's the most unusual idea I have ever heard. However, I have heard a good deal about you. Stories of an Underground operation right inside Germany? I guess I have no choice but to believe you know what you're doing."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't risk lives if I didn't know this wasn't absolutely necessary. And, workable. I have a few other men coming to help. Another doctor would also be helpful" Yes, Potter would make a fair Russian, but Hawkeye was so non-military, he might make them believe their own Communist propaganda about there being no more distinctions between people. How people could believe that kind of lie and see the depravity that existed there he had no idea. But, he'd seen so much wickedness in Germany during the previous war, maybe nothing should surprise him.

"I'll see if Hawkeye's pal, Captain B.J. Hunnicutt, would be willing." A very youthful-looking corporal walked into the room.

"You were going to send for me, Sir?"

Hogan turned as Radar saluted him. He returned the greeting. "How did you know that?"

"Well, begging the general's pardon, but usually if a general does happen in here it means I'm needed for something," Radar explained.

"Yeah, call Hawkeye and B.J. in here, ask Major Houlihan to assist Schultz on post-op," requested Potter, explaining to Hogan "Houlihan's our chief nurse, she's really good with medical stuff, she'll be able to help Schultz enough while..."

Potter was interrupted by the corporal, who had suddenly perked his ears and remained very still. "Looks like they'll all be pretty busy for a while." Before they knew what happened, Radar was on the loudspeaker shouting "attention, all personnel, incoming wounded!" Only then did they hear the helicopters. I could have used a man like that on my team, Hogan mused, suddenly slightly jealous.

General Hogan had been shown to the guest quarters by Radar while the doctors worked. He finalized his plans during the surgeries, catching a slight nap before wandering into the post-op room a few hours later. To his surprise, he recognized a familiar face. "Carter?"

A man with a bandaged leg and left hand looked up groggy. "Yes...Colonel Hogan?" Am I seeing things? Is it really still World War Two? It can't be, can it?

Hogan understood what odd thoughts must be going through the man's mind. "No, you're not having flashbacks. This is Korea. And I'm a general, here for a special assignment." He turned and saw someone very familiar - maybe I'm having flashbacks, he mused. "Foster?"

"No, sir," spoke the man next to Dr. Hunnicutt, "my name is Mulcahy. I'm the camp chaplain."

Hogan laughed . "Sorry. You look just like a man I was stationed with in World War Two." Turning to Hunnicutt, who sported clean white scrubs, he asked: "What's his prognosis?"

B.J. pulled up a chair and offered it to the general, who accepted. He pulled up another and sat beside Carter as Mulcahy knelt. "That's what we wanted to talk to him about when he awakened. He was in a dogfight and got shot down. Carter, do you remember that?" He nodded. "You were crushed beneath some metal when you crashed. I'm afraid we had to amputate part of your left foot."

Mulcahy quickly added "no matter what you've lost on the outside, it's your spirit that matters. That's the real you."

Carter nodded, looking somewhat melancholy. "Boy, of all the luck; I work with explosives all the time in World War Two, and lose part of a foot in a plane crash." He wept a little, but also chuckled. "It's almost funny how that works."

Hogan held one hand while Mulcahy took the other. Hunnicutt was first to speak after a moment of silence, though. "We checked your wallet, you've got a cute little boy."

"Yeah," he said through tears, "his name's Hogan." The general blushed slightly.

Hunnicutt explained. "I've got a little girl at home. She's never met her daddy yet, she was born after I got sent overseas. How old is yours?"

"Two; he'll be three in about five months."

"You'll be home well before his birthday," uttered the chaplain. "I'm sure he'll be eager to see you." Carter nodded, smiling. What a way to get sent home. Oh, well, at least it's not in a body bag. "If you need to talk more I'm always available."

"Thanks. The colonel...the general, that is, and I have been on lots of dangerous missions, so it's not like I never thought about it." He looked at Hogan wondering if he could say more.

Hogan chose to speak. He explained. "We did covert work in Germany together. He might be ready to talk to me some, if it's okay with you." Since his condition was stable, the doctor agreed. Hogan considered that he could probably make Carter feel useful even as he lay recuperating.

Chapter Two

Hawkeye raised his eyebrows after dinner that evening. "You want us to what?" Sitting in an office with Hogan, B.J., and Potter, he determined that he'd just heard the most astounding thing he could imagine.

"It's nothing I haven't done before," noted Hogan as if he were discussing simple arithmetic. "They'll believe it just because they're told; it's the same with any dictatorship."

"I'll buy that," noted Pierce.

"And you're saying we go in as doctors, work on our men, and get them out...how?" The voice was B.J.'s.

Hogan explained. "I need to get details on how that M*A*S*H unit runs up there, but it seems like we can have a sub parked nearby to get a few, and use the choppers for the others." What I wouldn't have given to have helicopters for some of our missions, he told himself. Sure would have been easier than air drops.

"But we don't speak Russian," protested Hawkeye.

"So, neither do they." When the captains continued to complain, Hogan said "hello, how are you, I am fine" in a foreign language. "What language was that?"

BJ guessed "Chinese, I don't know."

"It's all Greek to me - which means it's probably Turkish."

Hogan smiled. "What if I told you it was Swahili?" The men agreed it might be, and asked if it was. Hogan said "well, Hawkeye said it was all Greek, so it must be Greek, right? Except it's not - it was Dutch."

Hawkeye quipped "well, then Dutch is Greek to me; now are you Finnish-ed." All caught the witticism and snickered.

Sitting up in his chair, BJ suddenly expounded "I think I've got it now. We don't know one language from the other; why should they?"

"Precisely," came the general. "Yeah, they might have more who know a little Chinese, but that's why you're Russians; plus you don't have to wear makeup like you would to look Chinese."

Hawkeye recalled the time he'd been in a jeep accident and suffered a head wound. He'd talked for well over an hour till Radar came and found him, so he wouldn't lose consciousness. The only rise he'd gotten out of the Korean family he was with was when he'd been expounding on the human hand, and began juggling. They hadn't understood a word he'd said. If they could be convinced he was Russian, just maybe...

"I won't say I don't think it's bizarre," noted Potter, "but it sounds like General Hogan's taken all the precautions, and it looks good."

"There'll be an escape route in case you're discovered, a chopper hidden in the hills near there can get you back to the 4077th. Now, we do have a couple days, and my other men won't be here till tomorrow, anyway. Still, I want us to be leaving for the North by 0800 the next day," remarked Hogan. Turning to Potter, he told him "a British doctor will be on loan to help you from Tokyo, in case you get swamped during this time."

"I understand, General. Just get my men - and those Allied men - back here in one piece," Potter emphasized.

"Well, this should be nice, everyone needs a little adventure in life, eh, Hawk?"

"If you say so," remarked Pierce. "Though my idea of undercover work is usually getting a nurse in bed with me." Hogan laughed. His man was right - he and Hawkeye had a lot in common.

The next morning, General Hogan got in line with the doctors for breakfast. "The best meal of the day," Hawkeye remarked, "everything's almost the right color. Usually we have meat and a salad, and what's brown should be green and what's green should be brown."

"Are you sure you wish to eat with these lowlifes," came the somewhat snobby voice of Major Charles Winchester ahead of him.

"I've never minded eating with the lower ranks; I've always felt we should live as a team, not just act like it on the outside." Hogan stared at perhaps the ugliest nun he'd ever seen sitting at a different table as they walked to their seats.

"I was referring to the fact they are so coarse in their habits...is there a problem, General, you seem suddenly preoccupied."

"Nun," spoke Hugan with a mouth full of food.

Winchester smiled. "Well, I'm glad that there are no problems. I hope you are enjoying your visit."

Hogan smiled as he wiped his chin. "No, I mean I thought I saw a repulsive looking nun."

Suddenly, Corporal Max Klinger, dressed in a nun's habit, walked over to the table. As Winchester rolled his eyes, Klinger greeted them. "What brings you to our happy hole in the ground, General?"

In response to the unspoken query, Hawkeye remarked "meet my sister, the sister. Actually, General Hogan, this is Corporal Max Klinger, the camp's court jester. Corporal Klinger, General Robert Hogan."

Hogan returned the salute, then expressed relief. "For a minute I thought I was seeing the second ugliest woman ever."

BJ was incredulous. "You've seen worse?"

"This one German general's sister looked like him in drag, but was over a hundred pounds heavier." To Klinger, he inquired "do you know Korean?"

"Sir, I know more about Korea than I ever wanted to know; I just want to get out of here pronto."

"Ever do covert work? Not that you'd look like a Korean woman, but maybe a Russian one."

"Are you crazy? I'm crazy. No soldier in his right mind goes around trying to get into a convent."

Hogan turned back to his meal. "Too bad, you don't look much worse than one of my men did when he dressed up as a lady for a couple covert activities."

Potter sat down with his tray. "I see you've met Corporal Klinger. He's been bucking for a Section 8 ever since this war began." Hogan nodded. This fellow, and the CO before him, have withstood him for a good while, then. I wonder how Klink would have handled Klinger? He snickered, considering that Klink was so gullible, he might have sent Klinger home in a matter of weeks. Of course, the fellow might also have wound up on the Russian Front.

Hogan had been unable to obtain a flier's jacket, but that was just as well. His presence still stunned Schultz as his son Albert, the doctor, pointed the table out to him before resuming his rounds. The guard absently said "hello, Sister, good morning, Colonel Hogan" before sitting down with his food. As he prepared to dig in, his eyes grew big. "Colonel...Hogan?" That man is everywhere, isn't he, Schultz surmised as he looked to his left, behind him at Klinger, then looked back to his plate and mumbled "Hogan, perhaps I saw, but behind me, I could not have seen what I just saw."

"Hey, Schultz, long time, no see." They stood and clasped hands warmly, Schultz warily eyeing Klinger.

"It is great to see you again." He smirked and jerked a thumb toward Klinger. "Up to some monkey business again, hmmm?" I know that's not a lady, he told himself. At least, I hope it's not.

Hogan smiled. "Well, yes, I plan to be, but he's not part of it."

Schultz sat back down and remarked "at least we are on the same side this time. Uh...you are doing it for NATO, right?"

Hogan laughed. Yes, his operation certainly had to make the ex-guard wonder at times. "We are, Schultz. Care to join me in a drink later; a couple of my men are coming in early today, and Carter's already here, in the recovery area."

"I already saw him; I gave him a stuffed bear for himself, and one for his little boy." The ex-guard remarked that "I do not drink any more, but Carter and I are going to join that Radar in a bottle of grape knee-high later."

BJ quipped "there's no way you'd ever fit."

"Oh, come on, since the end of World War Two I have lost twenty pounds," came Schultz.

"And gained what, fifty," inquired Pierce.

"Hah, you jolly jokers." The guard explained that "Albert said he had a surprise for me if I came up, and I suppose you are it." Hogan nodded. "I imagine your monkey business back in Germany helped you get that promotion?"

"You could say that." The general inquired "what have you been telling about that?"

"Well," Schultz explained, "I love to tell lots of tall tales to my kids. I usually do not tell exactly what happened, but sometimes I take little things I saw and make them very wild. It makes them feel good when I can tell them things about what I did during the war, and they can think like the entire nation was not so evil." He sighed a bit, grumbling. "Though I am beginning to believe my eldest, Oskar, is right. He is studying to be a Lutheran minister, and says he believes the dividing of our nation and of Berlin is a punishment from God for the Holocaust, that it will last a generation or more."

"The Holocaust was a terrible example of just how low humanity can go," Potter remarked.

Desiring to shift the topic to more pleasant things, Hogan was about to inquire into Schultz's toy company when he saw two people in British uniforms. One was a doctor, the other was a sergeant whom he quickly recognized as Peter Newkirk. Hogan stood and signaled for Newkirk to come over and join them. As Newkirk sat, he spotted Schultz and quipped: "Mighty glad to see me in me own uniform, huh?"

Wide-eyed, Schultz inquired as introductions were made "who else is going to show up?"

"Well, Carter was a surprise, though we can use him. We were gonna have this place we're going to bombed later, but now we might be able to take better care of it." Winchester, unaware of the planned excursion, inquired as to the place. "Just a little mission Pierce and Hunnicutt are going on with me, you'll find out after they're back."

"You're welcome to go instead, Charles," spoke BJ.

Winchester smiled. "Much as I would like to, this statement of finding out 'after they are back' smells too much like spy work, and we Winchesters do not spy on people."

Hawkeye insisted it would be fun. "You even get to impersonate a Russian; without even speaking the language. Besides," he continued, mimicking Winchester's voice, "I thought the thespian in you Winchesters would love a chance to play the fool."

Winchester appeared intrigued for a moment, but shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. While it is true that we Winchesters do quite a bit of Shakespearean acting in our spare moments, I prefer to impersonate more of the pensive individual. A Hamlet, one who sharply analyzes every plausibility, rather than a love-starved Romeo who gets himself into something he shan't extract himself from readily."

Schultz wrinkled his nose and leaned toward Hogan. "What did he say?"

Hawkeye, overhearing, jumped in. "He likes to play people who think for so long they never get anything done."

"LeBeau should be showing up shortly," remarked the general. "I've invited him to leave his cafe and cook a dish or two when I've needed to wine and dine foreign dignitaries, and so I thought a chef would be helpful."

"Well, don't pit him against this food, it's beyond hope," declared Hawkeye.

"What good will he do up there," inquired BJ. "Or do their MASH units get actual food?"

"He'll work in a variety of areas, I'll tell you when we get there. Actually, drugging peoples' drinks might play a large part," he added.

Newkirk left and brought back the British doctor who would assist while Pierce and Hunnicutt were gone. After introductions were made, and breakfast consumed, Winchester left to show the new medic around the camp. Hogan, Newkirk, Hawkeye, and BJ went into the Swamp, where the doctors lived, and Hogan outlined his plans.

LeBeau arrived around lunchtime, and immediately wished he'd brought pizza-making supplies along. "I'd rather cook cardboard than some of this stuff."

"We were spoiled at Stalag 13," agreed Carter as they visited in the post-op room. The sergeant was trying to get used to crutches. "I mean, you cooked some great stuff. In the real military you can't just swipe things from the enemy or go out into the forest."

The Frenchman nodded. "Oui, it was your bad luck to get drafted again, I guess."

Carter shrugged. "Well, it's like the Father says, I know I'm gonna be running to see my Savior when I get to Heaven. And, I can do a little good here. You know who's the head of communications over in Tokyo," he inquired as Radar walked into the room.

"Who?"

"Kinch; Hogan spoke so highly of him when he got drafted this time, he went to officers' school."

Radar told Carter "General Hogan asked me to have you help me brush up on Morse Code, after you're done with some other stuff I'm not supposed to know anything about."

"Morse Code?" LeBeau raised his eyebrows, pronouncing that "I knew this was a poor area, but you mean they don't have telephones up there?"

Carter explained. "They do, but the General - boy, that still sounds weird - wanted something in case we had to contact him. Remember, he's supposed to be Korean, so he's not supposed to know English."

As Carter followed Radar to a telegraph set up next to the phone, the corporal remarked "from what I heard, they don't know English up there, either."

"A phone could be tapped, though, whereas they'd need to be on the right frequency and able to break the code with this."

Radar smiled as Carter pulled out a code book Hogan devised for this mission. "Wow, this is gonna be as much fun as when I got my Flash Gordon decoder ring when I was little. Did you guys do this a lot in World War Two?"

"Yeah," Carter remarked as they went over the Morse alphabet. "You know Sparky, the operator you always talk to?" Radar nodded. "His CO worked with us; he's a real communications whiz."

Radar thought a minute. "Gee, that's funny, as often as we've talked, you know I've never seen Sparky's face. Wonder what he looks like." Carter flipped out a picture taken of the Heroes on Liveration Day and showed him Kinch. "Wow, I never imagined a man like that at their base."

"I guess blacks are pretty unusual back in Ottumwa?"

"No, I mean a man with a mustache; everyone's expected to be clean-shaven back home."

At that point, Hawkeye and BJ walked into the room. "Greetings, tovariches," spoke Hawkeye.

BJ quipped "your tovar itches? Well, I can prescribe you some ointment, but I wouldn't be scratching it in public."

The others chuckled, after which Hawkeye said "we're going to learn a few common phrases in Russian, just in case, then Carter's making us up some good fake beards. I just wish Newkirk or LeBeau could make me a Russian uniform that doesn't itch."

"That's a good way to throw 'em off track." Radar explained to Carter "they never wear uniforms."

"At least they're not like that Klinger. I'd hate to see my doctor running around in a nurse's outfit."

Hawkeye spoke a couple more phrases, then announced: "By the way, guess what BJ stands for now?"

Embarrassed, Hunnicutt shook his head. "Come on, Hawk, they don't have to know that."

"Boris Jukovich Honicuski." He laughed. "BJ is now a 'Boris.'"

"Hey, as least I can still call myself 'BJ,' if you go back to Benjamin instead of 'Boris' you'll blow the operation."

"Hey, General Hogan has a way of getting out of scrapes; I've spoken English accidentally a couple times," Carter remarked. "He could have used someone like Radar; he'd have been a lot more efficient than me."

"Don't bet on it," BJ remarked.

"When Radar first came to us, he was so green and inefficient we thought he was a North Korean plant," quipped Hawkeye. Carter appeared dumbfounded, and Pierce nodded. "I'm serious, he improved so much in the first three months, it was incredible. Now we'd be lost without him."

"Come on, I'm not that important," Radar remarked, slightly embarrassed.

"You are when you realize your likely replacement wears dresses," noted Pierce.

Chapter Three

General Hogan, after enduring many puns about it, finally decided he couldn't avoid the fake ID created for him - a Colonel Hoo Chin La. He did, however, limit his men to one wisecrack per hour about the name. Just like old times, Robert, he considered, you just have two doctors replacing Kinch and Carter. And, Carter would be available back at the 4077th if anything was needed, with Kinch monitoring radio traffic as well.

The five landed in a borrowed helicopter with the insignia of the Red Cross on it. A truck would take Hogan, Pierce, Hunnicutt, Newkirk, and LeBeau to the North Korean 912th, as they called it. Hogan, or Hoo, quickly handed papers to the guard at the front gate. This sure is more heavily guarded than our camp, considered Pierce. It probably reminds Hogan more of Stalag 13. Which it did.

After Hogan explained that his men knew no Korean, as they were from Russia, the sentry escorted him to the commander's office. A colonel Ying Li Ho greeted them, exchanging bows with the impersonator. Hogan's men did the same. "What brings you to this unit," inquired the colonel.

In remarkably fluent Korean, Hogan explained. "I have been in the Soviet Union for quite a while," he explained as he glanced at the picture of the Korean dictator Kim Il Sung. "Our illustrious leader, Kim, has asked for the co-operation of Stalin in transferring the Americans to Soviet gulags. There are some Soviets I have brought to assist - Doctors Piersinski and Honicuski, Captain Newkirski, and Lieutenant LeBoski, both Soviet air corpsmen."

"I see. Of course, you know, Colonel Hoo, this is a very top secret operation. If the Americans suspected something, it could mean war - even nuclear."

Hogan shook his head. "Our little workers' paradise would not stand a chance, would it," he deadpanned.

"No. The honorable Kim Il Sung has done great things for this country, we are hoping we can continue to be of great help to our Soviet comrades."

Hawkeye, anxious to show he was paying attention, spoke excitedly. "Da! Comrades," he exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. "Tovariches!"

As the colonel stared, Hogan explained. "He gets a little excited sometimes. Especially when he hears his own language; he doesn't speak Korean."

"I see - I would have thought they would teach them some for this mission," noted the colonel, a little perplexed.

"Look, the American swine are in enough of an uproar that they are fighting Chinese here. If it was learned the Soviets were teaching their people Korean they might suspect something, right?" After a moment, the Korean nodded. Okay, this guy might be a little harder to convince, mulled Hogan. However, he at least fell for the first, and most logical, explanation. We're in good shape.

The Korean showed the men to the medical area, but explained. "We had not been planning on moving these for quite some days; I am afraid some are not in good shape to move." That's what Hawkeye and BJ are here to fix, Hogan considered.

As planned, Newkirk whispered in Hogan's ear. "Yes, you're right, Newkirski." Hogan turned to the Korean and exclaimed "Comrade Stalin will be most displeased; he felt you had a high quality rating. It would be a shame to have to tell him otherwise."

"Well, I understand, but...we just did not think it would be this fast that you came, until you called yesterday." As he opened the door to the post-op wing, Hogan and his men understood why. Conditions were far from sanitary; they noticed numerous objects which were clearly being reused without being sterilized. Blood was splattered in many places, some wounds were open more than they should be, and the entire scene appeared extremely untidy.

"Doesn't the Red Cross get to see this," muttered LeBeau.

Worried the Korean had overheard "Red Cross," Hogan quickly went into the second part of his plan to reel the Koreans in a little early. "My man wondered when the last time was that the Red Cross visited."

"That is just it - it was only three months ago they inspected." As Ying spoke, Newkirk and LeBeau began scanning the area for listening devices.

Hogan glared as some of the patients stirred and examined the group with great concern, especially considering the Russian uniforms. Angrily, Hogan shouted in Korean "you mean you let the Red Cross in here? Comrade Stalin would not have let them know that this hospital unit even existed, even since the start of the war! You Koreans do not know how to plan things!"

Hogan knew that the anger was likely to disturb the Koreans, since it was not a very normal cultural trait. As expected, it did. "I...I am sorry, Colonel La...we did not know until late last year, and as I said, the Red Cross..." stammered Ying.

"You did not understand that to be put to work in a labor camp, men must be fit to work?! These conditions are deplorable! I shall expect immense co-operation from you if I am not to report this to Comrade Stalin, and give him one more convict for the gulags." Hogan's men wished they understood Korean - whatever he was saying, it must be pretty powerful, they surmised. "Now, my men need to organize things to get these men moved to the trucks and to our waiting fleet of ships. My doctors must patch these men up. Newkirski and LeBoski need to plant a radar scrambling device atop your roof to prevent American planes from finding the unit by mistake and rescuing these people! Will you co-operate, or will you be purged?"

"You have our fullest co-operation, I assure you," came Ying, bowing quickly. He murmured "'radar scrambling...'"

Hogan knew he'd made that up, but chose to boast of Soviet technology. If Plan B had to be implemented, it would give them a leg up. "Yes, you mean you do not have that technology from the great Soviet factories - no wonder you cannot win the war. Now, give these doctors peace so they can get to work." With a quick bow, Ying departed. Hogan turned to Newkirk, who quickly pulled over a chair as LeBeau went to watch the door. Hogan motioned for Hawkeye and BJ to remain quiet and to look around for bugs first of all as Newkirk pulled a lamp down and removed a tiny microphone.

After spotting a couple more bugs and removing them, they pronounced the room secure. "Probably just for listening in to see if the patients give away any secrets."

"Gee, I thought we had enough bugs out here," noted Hawkeye, "without them making artificial ones."

"Good thing we brought our black bags - I feel like I'm in a Civil War hospital," remarked BJ. "There's still some things we could use, though."

"That's what I figured. Newkirk and LeBeau are going to put up an antenna allowing me to send my messages," noted Hogan. "They think it's for blocking American radar. I have the equipment on the truck with your stuff. Newkirk, LeBeau, bring the truck around." He handed them a slip of paper, written in Korean and Russian, requesting that the truck be pulled up right the entrance. "Show them the Russian first, just to see who recognizes it, as a double check. Doctors, check your patients, treat as well as you can, then make a list of what we need. I'll have it shipped here with some Red Cross choppers that use fake insignias."

As the other two left, the doctors marveled. "You've got this down to a science," Pierce noted as he walked over to sterilize some instruments in boiling water. "Shall we talk to the patients?"

"I'll handle that, a few can hear what we're saying, after all." The doctors nodded, BJ noticing one who looked quite incredulous. I imagine we look very odd with our fake beards, the doctor deduced. "Keep your chatter with them down to a minimum, and only when nobody else is here but our group. Remember, the N. Koreans think we're speaking Russian, but these are Americans, so they don't know Russian. So, we really shouldn't be able to understand each other."

Radar was filing papers when he heard the clatter of the telegraph several hours later. Carter, stationed near the telegraph, hobbled over on his crutches and sat down. As Radar jogged over to inspect, Carter relayed that they had received the message. "This was that Kinch's job all the time; a black person wouldn't make a realistic Nazi."

"No, I suppose not," was all Radar could say. He read the Morse code while glancing at the small code book. "Hmmm, 'arrived okay, stop.' How am I doing so far?"

"Fine."

"It says they have 23 - is that 23?" Carter nodded. "23 patients, 5 somewhat serious, stop. Trying operate but send chopper false...oh, false insignia." He smiled, looking up. "Hey, I'm good at this."

"There's another page here," Carter noted. "They're gonna move the other 18 in the next couple days, but need to patch them up better than these guys did. Hogan used the excuse they're gonna get 'em fixed up so they can actually work in the labor camps. He sent a list of supplies." He handed the sheet to Radar.

"We might have some of this stuff, I'll check." He started to leave.

"Do that, I'm gonna wire Kinch and tell him we need this stuff sent by one of those choppers." He put on the headphones and began to tap the telegraph.

Stopping just inside the door, Radar said "uh, our phone works, you might want to just call him." Carter grinned, a little embarrassed, and picked up the phone as Radar left.

"Hey Sparky," came Carter, "This is Sergeant Carter with 'Operation Deja Vu,' is your CO there?" He was. "Put him on...Hey, Kinch, how's it goin'?"

"Carter, long time, no see."

"Whaddayamean, you still can't see me. 'Course, I'll be comin' your way in a few days, once we pick up some packages. I got a foot crushed by an airplane."

"Oooh, that hadda hurt."

"Anyway, here's a list of what we need." He rattled off the list, then asked for two helicopters with the Soviet hammer and sickle on the side. "Think you can do that?"

"We'll have that stuff for you real fast. Hey, Sparky says to tell Radar 'hello.'"

"How's it feel to be an officer."

"Crazy. But I didn't want to be just an enlisted man; I made it up to Captain recently, but even if it weren't for this invisible ceiling they put over us I'd probably retire after this war, anyway." Kinch smiled. "At least they didn't mind me down there in your town when I visited for your wedding back in '47."

"As long as you're a veteran. You know me, I'd kinda let slip a few times about some of the things we'd done, so they had respect for you." Carter noticed the telegraph clicking again. "Oops, Hogan must need something else. Catch ya later."

Hogan had concealed the radio in a box of tongue depressors. In fact, it had been painted so that, except for the metal parts, it looked like a series of tongue depressors stuck together. The box was in an out of the way place, with the wires easily concealed. Another small box contained enough explosives to blow the hospital part and the CO's office, explosives made to look like medical instruments. Boy, Carter can do some great work, even on the spur of the moment, he pondered.

Now that this phase was complete, Hogan intended to try and get the defector's brother out of hiding. To do this, he needed to discover the fellow's whereabouts. The chopper carrying supplies would contain an agent disguised as a Korean. On the way back, this agent would, if feasible, land near the hideout, run and get Sung, and ferry him to South Korea via helicopter. If we'd had helicopters, he mused once more, we could have done pickups and drop-offs so easily. True, they'd have been noisy, and not as reliable until late '43, when we had air superiority more or less, but still...

Hence, Hogan began pecking away at the telegraph once more. He needed to get the location from the defector's brother. He hoped Radar or Carter would be able to run and get the information soon, so it could be sent to Kinch's outfit. He admired the way the team was working together after all these years...all these years? It had only been seven. Still, that seemed like an eternity, things had moved so fast.

While Hogan awaited a response, Hawkeye inquired "how did you ever stay sane being away from women for so long, General?"

"Wasn't easy. I had a few flings, but they were pretty far between." He decided not to tell him about Helga. Klink's secretary and he had had a brief romance after the war, when he was in charge of civilian relations in the American sector of West Germany. He'd fallen in love with her when he first saw her in '42. However, he was over ten years older than she, and it hadn't worked out - the flames cooled too fast on her end. It had been more puppy love to her. He enjoyed hobnobbing with former Underground workers, especially Mayor Kiesterman of Hammelburg. The only operation to even approach the glory of the Danish people required high level support, and he'd provided it. Kiesterman had fudged records and done many other things behind the scenes while privately encouraging people to resist the Nazis when he felt he could count on them to do so and not report him. This allowed the mighty Hammelburg Underground to flourish, as Kiesterman, a former major and WW I vet, was also the martial law leader of the town. However, once Helga and he parted, he was more than happy to be transferred away from there in mid-'47.

BJ remarked "I don't mind much, I'm married, but most of the other people in our camp are swinging singles. Makes a guy feel out of place."

Ensuring he didn't turn from the door, lest he see blood and faint, LeBeau spoke. "I was married for about a year before the war, but it didn't last. I enjoy my freedom. And life at Stalag 13 was ten times as tough for me because I'm French."

"What was your toughest assignment, General," BJ inquired. "If that's not privileged information."

Hogan got up from his kneeling position and sat on a bunk while awaiting a return message. He sighed, wondering how so much could have gotten out. At first, it was a reporter - he'd written a little after they'd gotten him out of Germany, but it was little enough the Americans could easily pass it off as propaganda. In fact, they'd hurriedly provided the fellow a job writing propaganda stories to be spread to the Axis powers if he would just keep his mouth shut about the operation and call it propaganda, which he did. After the war, that part had been pretty much protected.

However, next came the civilians. Once the war ended, they'd begun spreading rumors of a "great Underground operation which existed in Germany." Hogan himself hadn't been named. In fact, it wasn't even connected to a POW camp. It began when some German POWs brought back stories of the "Lone Ranger" legends in America. The story soon evolved into the existence of a "Lone Ranger" in Germany who always had a silver bullet solution for everything to keep the evil Nazis from winning. Hogan didn't mind that too much, though if it got too close to him he'd get very embarrassed. He'd never had near the ability of the Lone Ranger, nor could he keep innocent German soldiers, who were "just doing their duty," from dying when he blew up power plants, factories, etc..

These legends didn't bother Hogan too much, though. The big brass knew people would see these for what they were - just as there was a little Lone Ranger in everyone, so was there a little of this "German Lone Ranger" in every German. It eased the pain of some for not knowing of atrocities like the Holocaust - indeed, in the bedtime stories he knew German parents told in the years after the war, this "German Lone Ranger" knew nothing of the Holocaust, either. It broke his heart that he hadn't known, and that's why their Lone Ranger had gone into retirement. It made the character sort of a tragic hero, like something out of an opera.

Schultz's rebuilt toy company had taken advantage of these legends by producing products based on this myth. That's where part of the problem lied. The Schatzi Toy Company had begun to place this legend in a real setting. Instead of "riding off into the sunset," he returned to a base each night, where "sympathetic German guards" protected him. The stories were still fanciful, elaborate, and mostly disconnected with what Hogan had actually done. However, while Hogan hadn't kidnapped a general, snuck him aboard his plane at his own airstrip himself, and single-handedly bombed the general's base, flown him to England, then swum the English Channel to make it back to Europe, the story was close enough to something Hogan had actually done that it made the general cringe. Yes, he'd encouraged people to use their imaginations. Yes, he realized few would believe the legends. Still, he hesitated to reveal his toughest missions, partly to keep from even hinting at classified information, partly to distance himself so people didn't think he was some kind of superhero.

Hence, he told BJ "most of it is classified, though I'll tell you it's a lot more fun to believe the legends than what actually happened." And, much better for the government if the stories are considered legends.

"What legends," BJ wondered, considering whether he might have some good bedtime story material for whenever the war ended.

Hogan explained. "There are legends of a German Lone Ranger of sorts who did a lot of sabotage and rescue work. Purely fanciful." He decided to tell him one item. "We did help twenty airmen escape at once after they'd gotten free from another POW camp." This was Hogan's standard answer if others pressed him on the matter.

Hawkeye smiled. "At least we know you've got the experience. Were any wounded?" Hogan shook his head as he received back the information he requested. He asked that it be sent to Kinch, as well.

"What are some of these legends," BJ inquired.

"Well, it's been said this 'Lone Ranger' could take a German tank apart, copy the information down, and put it back together all in one hour. Sounds like Paul Bunyan," Hogan joked. "I'm surprised this guy doesn't have a big blue ox who helps him. Also, they say this guy could impersonate anyone; he'd done Hitler, Himmler, generals, everyone. He got prisoners out of Gestapo hands by posing as the kommandant of another camp, he did everything, all while never shedding one drop of German blood." BJ and Hawkeye whistled.

"Bet you wish you were that good," remarked Hawkeye.

Hogan spoke sincerely. "I wish. You're right, I wish I could have been."

LeBeau turned from the door. "Guard coming with something...wait, no, now they're arguing. What are they saying?"

Hogan hid the transmitter and jogged over to the door. "Wait a minute, I'll check." He walked out to discover the colonel chastising a young corporal holding what appeared to be a baby. "What's the problem, we have doctors trying to work and patients trying to rest."

Ying responded, bowing. "So sorry, this corporal had not informed me a member of the KGB was coming; he felt you had perhaps already told me." Hogan grumbled inwardly. "I instructed him never to assume such things again."

"Yes, well, of course I did not tell you, the KGB likes to keep things secret." He was glad he'd had enough experience with the Gestapo - this should be similar, he told himself. "How did the corporal find out?" came the incredulous query. Now, Hogan deduced, I have allayed any suspicion that question might have caused by acting as if the visit was supposed to be a complete surprise.

"He has just arrived at the air force base, and will be here to inspect things within the hour."

Chapter Four

Hogan raised his eyebrows. He had several ideas. First of all, he asked "what is the man's name?"

"A Major Vladimir Burlunkin," noted Colonel Ying. Sensing concern on Hogan's face, he asked "is there a problem."

"Yes, there could be, if he is the same man." He posited this explanation. "I know a man by that name in the KGB with a very severe drinking problem. He spouts off in absurd ways, says ridiculous things, and so on."

Ying asked the corporal how Burlunkin appeared on the phone. "Just fine," came the response.

"Probably had not had a drink in several hours; I would not be surprised if he has by the time he gets here." He chose not to go any further; even a lay person could smell alcohol on someone's breath, and Ying, being a doctor, would be able to tell if the fellow was intoxicated. Still, he had left the impression that the KGB major would utter some untrue or ridiculous statements. That would buy some time if he was not able to intercede right when the major arrived.

He thanked Ying, then returned to the medical complex. Jogging over to the radio, he began transmitting a request for information on the KGB major - not that they could receive it right away, of course. He would maintain radio silence till they had a chance to get him out of their hair for a while.

"Is there a problem?" inquired BJ.

"Just some KGB agent coming for dinner," deadpanned the general.

"A Russian?" Hawkeye inquired. "A real live Russian?"

BJ shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't intend to spend my life in a gulag."

"And you won't have to," Hogan reassured them. "Got anything to put him out for a while till LeBeau can get to where he can slip him a sleeping pill?"

"Sure," Pierce agreed.

Newkirk stepped forward. "Sir, why don't we just give 'im too much an' kill 'im on the spot?"

"I'll have you know as a doctor I should be very offended at that," Hawkeye began, "but as an American right now my guts are screaming for me to recant my Hippocratic Oath."

"Don't worry, they'd ask too many questions if a KGB guy just dropped dead on the spot. We need a couple days to get these men out." He paused a minute. "Besides, if they suspected only later that NATO did this they'd just start right back up again."

"And be on the lookout next time."

"Right, Newkirk."

"What if this guy doesn't speak Korean," inquired Pierce.

"We already found out neither that corporal nor the colonel speak more than a couple words of Russian, if that," noted Hogan, "so Burlunkin must know some Korean."

"Which means you'll be speaking what now?" The query was BJ's. Hogan told him he'd switch to Russian, then back to Korean for the Koreans. He had another idea or two, but decided it was best to leave them in the dark.

Hogan had not told them of what the corporal was carrying. However, he knew what Hawkeye and BJ would say - let that kid come back with us. After much experience with Carter, he was accustomed to people with soft spots. He was grateful for them - Schultz had certainly been one on the German side. However, at times like these, things became a little complex when they were around.

Hogan walked into Ying's office. The KGB man had not yet arrived, giving him time to discuss things with the Korean colonel. "Colonel Ying, there have been some things which disturb me," he reported. "First of all, did I not just see a baby being carried a while ago?"

"Yes, he is a Korean orphan," explained Ying.

Hogan hummed. "This does not sound like the kind of activity Comrade Stalin would approve of; supposing one of the Americans were to spot it? He may decide to kidnap the baby and escape with him, the capitalist swine think they are protecting the children then."

Ying nodded. "My thoughts exactly; which is why I've ordered my man to take him to an orphanage as soon as Mr. Burlunkin leaves."

"If I may," Hogan noted, "Comrade Piersinski is in search of a child; he is on Comrade Stalin's personal medical team, and I am sure Comrade Stalin would love to showcase this child as an example of the fine compassion shown by the Communist people." He was taking a chance that the KGB agent would not know every single doctor caring for Stalin, but the language barrier would cause enough confusion, and he felt that this man would likely not know everything. He could always fool the Gestapo for a little while, after all. He might have Newkirk cut the phone lines a little later, though.

Ying bowed and picked up the phone. "An interesting idea, I shall contact a plane and have it take the baby to...where for him?"

Hogan placed his hand over the receiver. "That...won't be necessary, he would gladly take the baby with him. We plan to sedate the Americans before we take them; he can take the child on board then." As they spoke, a sergeant walked into the office and announced that Major Burlunkin had arrived. Colonel Ying ordered him brought into the office. Immediately, Hogan noticed a resemblance between this man and Major Hochstetter - both were short with pitch dark hair and mustaches. Burlunkin's hair and mustache were much fuller, though. The general immediate spouted in Russian. "Comrade, very good to see you," came Hogan, hugging the stunned man.

"What is meaning of this," scowled Burlunkin in Russian. The Koreans only noted anger and what they thought was shock, though they couldn't understand the words..

"As you can see," spoke Hogan in Korean, "the man is having a spell caused by being away from his precious vodka for too long; he desires a large drink."

"What are you saying," hollered Burlunkin. He instantly remembered himself and switched to Korean. "Colonel Ying, I do not know what this man is saying..."

"Do you deny you drink vodka," came Hogan's Korean inquiry. Burlunkin stayed in Korean.

"Of course I drink vodka, almost every Russian man drinks vodka at some time," noted the KGB man. "That does not mean..."

Cutting him off by holding up his hand, Hogan again spoke in Korean. "Not sure it's the same one or not, you heard him say a lot of Russians drink, probably a lot get drunk." Sensing Burlunkin was now angry enough to start speaking Russian only, Hogan would now find out his mission without the Koreans getting suspicious of his queries. "What are you doing here, Vladimir?"

"It is Major Burlunkin to you, you..."

"Major Hoo Chin La, Korean secret police," came Hogan's friendly reply. "When I was in Russia I heard much about the wonderful way in which all the workers are equal in Russia, that it is paradise for workers."

Burlunkin fumed, addressing him in Russian. "There are still such things as formalities!"

Hogan switched back to Korean, allowing Ying to understand. This time, he would interpret correctly - probably for the last time, though. "He says there are formalities in the Soviet Union - the workers' paradise. He must be lying or an imposter."

"I am not..." Burlunkin began in Russian before switching to Korean. "I am telling the truth, I am not lying or an imposter. I am here to check how the mission is coming, the gulag should be ready in a couple weeks."

Hogan wasn't expecting this, but now he knew that the Koreans were to hold the Americans here for at least two more weeks. Time to push up the time frame, he deduced. In Russian, he announced "that is not good enough, I was told to have them out in a couple days."

"By who..." The major realized that he was automatically responding in Russian when Hogan spoke in Russian. He could tell Colonel Ying had trouble understanding even the simplest Russian. "Please, let us all speak Korean, I know it well." Hogan nodded. "By whom were you told..."

Hogan would need to have this argument in Russian. "It does not matter by whom I was told this, Vladimir."

"Stop using my first name, we are not that familiar," insisted Burlunkin in Korean, trying hard to keep himself from reverting to his own, familiar language.

"Okay, Vladimir."

"You dare to insult me, I am KGB," insisted Burlunkin.

Hogan grinned. How he wished Klink had stood up to Hochstetter the way he himself was about to stand up to a major. "You cannot scare me," came the scathing Russian from Hogan's lips, "I am a colonel and I can order you to do anything, call you anything..."

"I do not take orders from a Korean!" The major, now too angry, was doing what many foreign people did in the U.S. - reverting to his native tongue when angry. Hogan had noticed a thick Russian accent in the KGB man's Korean, now any trace of Korean was gone. However, the word "Korean" was still intelligible enough for the Korean colonel to understand.

"You are not supposed to give or take orders, Vlad," exploded Hogan, "you are to act as a comrade, the way I have tried to do to you. If you will not treat us as comrades, though, we will surely stoop to giving orders."

Burlunkin was raging now - the very familiar Vlad had been used. He half-expected the childish Dimri to be used next - and if it was, he was going to deck Hogan. Luckily, Hogan didn't even know of the cute name his grandmother had used. "You ingrateful Koreans need to learn to show respect for your comrades in the Soviet Union..."

Hogan acted insulted, turning to Ying and explaining in Korean "he's saying we're inferior and need to follow his orders" before switching back to Russian and hollering "if you think you can give orders to us you're wrong. I served many years under the glorious auspices of Comrade Stalin's military in preparing for this mission, and have never heard of such a notion. We are all comrades, all tovarchies!"

"I am not your tovarich. I am your comrade. Only tovariches call me Vladimir," exclaimed Burlunkin.

"Kim Il Sung expects it differently when you come into Korea," explained Hogan, noticing that Colonel Ying's ears perked up a little at the name of their leader, though Ying still failed understand other words. "You are his tovarich, and Comrade Stalin is his tovarich."

"Comrade Stalin is a comrade, not a tovarich."

Hogan switched to Korean. "He just said Stalin wasn't a friend to our illustrious leader," came the feigned incredulity. "What else will he say?"

Burlunkin took a deep breath, glad to be back to Korean. He explained "I do not know why Colonel Hoo is saying what he is saying, but I did not mean it that way..."

In Korean, Hogan shouted "so you admit you said Comrade Stalin was no friend of the Koreans." He could tell Ying was getting a little upset. He hoped to give Burlunkin time to cool his heels so he could talk to Ying before telling Newkirk to cut the phone wires.

Burlunkin, to hear a friendly Russian voice as much as anything, walked to the phone. "Let me settle this misunderstanding, and find out who this man is." He intended to call KGB headquarters in Vladivostok, which would hopefully be able to help or to patch him through to Moscow.

Hogan deduced what the major wanted to do. In Russian, he ordered "halt, I forbid you to do that!"

"You are forbidding me," came the incredulous KGB agent.

"Yes, and so is Colonel Ying; if you are not comrades you are just military like us, and you will obey your superior officer!"

"I am KGB and I take my orders from Comrade Beria," exploded the KGB agent.

Hogan grabbed the receiver from Burlunkin and slammed it to the ground. "You claim to take your orders from him because he is a superior, correct."

"Well, da, of course..."

"First, if you have superiors then your workers' paradise is a lie. Second, you are not in Russia, you are in Korea, and we are your superiors here."

"It is...the means of production must be...how can you...Look, I am here on his orders, in two weeks..."

Hogan could tell he was flustering the man. "Go to the guest quarters right now, and await further instructions." He was tempted to suggest the possibility of arresting Burlunkin, but knew that would be provoking an incident before they were ready.

Burlunkin could tell Hogan was standing firm. "I will be back," he stormed as he left the office; he would locate the young enlisted man and be taken to the guest quarters to quiet down. He didn't want to say something to further infuriate the Korean, who was for some reason very hotheaded. This was, after all, a delicate matter, for he knew his superiors could think he had somehow planted in their minds that Stalin was no friend of the Korean leader. And if that were to happen, he might be the one in a Soviet gulag.

Hogan turned to Ying, confident that LeBeau would at least try, as instructed, to get Burlunkin to have a drink with him to calm down. "You did the right thing, he's got this superiority complex about the Russians, that's all. They're not all like that. Luckily, I was able to defend our peoples' honor quite well."

Ying appeared somewhat shaken; screaming like that normally didn't happen anywhere in Korea. "What all did he say; I mean, you told me some of it, but it sounded like it was just a misunderstanding."

"Well..." Hogan sighed. The drinking angle could still come in. "It's possible, but even more, I bet we find him on the ground with a bottle of vodka nearby."

Chapter Five

With the doctors still patching up people, Newkirk began to explain in whispers to each of the wounded exactly what was happening. "Don't let on you understand anythin' of what we're sayin', mates," instructed the Englishman to each. This would be vital to the mission. He hoped that a helicopter would be procured soon to deal with the more seriously wounded. However, they also needed to ensure that there were no queries about why the Americans had not yet arrived - he didn't know yet they weren't expected for two weeks. It was just as well that he planned to go out and clip the phone wires, however. The KGB could always call to check on Burlunkin.

When LeBeau noticed Burlunkin stomping back to the guest quarters, he signaled Newkirk. The Englishman pulled a half-full bottle of vodka and three glasses out of the Heroes' bag of equipment. Then, he grabbed a couple pills to dissolve in a drink. He would be intrigued to see just how well he could get Burlunkin to drink. He would have be the strong, very silent type. "'Ow did you do this, before you poured?"

"Usually after, they dissolve right away," noted the Frenchman, carefully avoiding seeing the blood on the doctors' smocks. Luckily, Pierce and Hunnicutt were almost through with their patchup work and would soon be removing those. "The colonel knew you would be better at giving shots, just in case he doesn't go for the drink, though I can do the drink."

"I don't know 'ow the 'strong, silent type' is supposed to convince a KGB man to take a shot." He contemplated upon reaching the door that "I'd play a much better drunk in some pub. Or whatever they're called in Russia." LeBeau and Newkirk left.

Wandering over to the guest quarters, Newkirk adopted a solemn, downcast look. LeBeau was slightly more upbeat, but he was, after all, the 'bartender." "Comrade Burlunkin," came the mellow tone. Burlunkin said something with 'da' in it. We're on the right track, thought the Britisher. "Pyotr Newkirski, Ivan Leboski," he remarked, making introductions.

Burlunkin asked something in Russian as LeBeau took the bag and got out the vodka and glasses. Newkirk pretended to be pre-occupied by the post-op room several buildings away. Staring out the window, he gave a small nod which might or might not have been in reference to an answer to Burlunkin's query - if it had been a query. "Capitalist swine," Newkirk muttered under his breath, just loud enough to be heard by the KGB man. LeBeau poured the drinks, and snuck the mickey in while Burlunkin gazed at Newkirk, who appeared to be a street bum relaxing somewhere.

LeBeau handed a glass to Newkirk, who took it lazily. He sat his own beside him, and handed the altered drink to Burlunkin. "Comrade," he spoke, urging the man to take the drink. As Newkirk put it up to his lips, Burlunkin reluctantly agreed. These must be some of our men here - there had been tapes of American conversations sent by the Koreans. This must be a group of the men who inspected them. He could understand why they wished to drink with a fellow Russian, and so he took the glass.

"Comrade Stalin," came the cheerful toast as LeBeau lifted his glass high in the air. Newkirk followed slowly, his actions making Burlinkin wonder if he was not already a little drunk. Perhaps this Colonel Hoo is thinking of this man when he thinks I will take too much vodka, mused he as he took his glass and raised it, saying something Newkirk and LeBeau couldn't comprehend. It had sounded like it had "Stalin" and "capitalist" in it. Probably drinking to the defeat of the U.N., the Allies pondered.

Newkirk and LeBeau raised the drinks to their lips but did not drink. Burlunkin drank his, and quickly fell asleep. After they had both checked to ensure he was dozing, LeBeau began to whisper something. Newkirk motioned him outside, lest the area be bugged. It didn't matter if they were seen; at this point, Hogan could convince the Koreans they had shared a couple drinks, then left at a sensible time, while Burlunkin chose to get very drunk. The fact the bottle was half empty led to this. They had poured their drinks near where Burlunkin spilled his upon keeling over, to make it look like less was there. While they knew a doctor could examine Burlunkin and discover he was drugged, why would this happen?

Newkirk and LeBeau arrived back in post-op at the same time Hogan did. They explained what they'd done, and Hogan congratulated them. "Good work, you're right," Hogan remarked. "They probably will figure you just went in for one drink."

"They won't smell any alcohol on his breath," Hawkeye noted.

Hogan nodded. "Right, that's why I want you two to go over and check him out in about fifteen minutes." He smirked. "You knew I couldn't bring you here just to work on our men."

"I'd be honored, General," remarked BJ.

"What should we do - pour it down his throat? What if he chokes?" The query was Hawkeye's.

Hogan shook his head. "No need to do that, that's getting a bit too fancy." Just like my men would ad lib it, he mused. "Just spread some of the vodka on his clothes, and use the spritzer." He smiled, remembering a time he'd fooled Klink and Burkhalter into not checking to see if it was really him on a bed because the stench was so bad. "I think you'll figure out how best to do that, just make sure the air really reeks around him, but don't overdo it."

Hawkeye grinned a devilish grin. "Reminds me of some frat party tricks in medical school. By the way, there's this baby..."

Hogan really impressed him with his next statement. "All taken care of, though Burlunkin doesn't know about it. You'd be able to take him in our chopper or truck; though we're actually going to send him with the first Americans and say a Russian sub picked him up with a couple of our men; a call from my man Kinch will confirm this. After that, Newkirk, cut that wire." He nodded. Hogan would leave in a couple minutes and ask to speak on a phone in private - for a top secret mission, so secret he couldn't risk any "Russian" being understood. He'd ring Kinch's number and tell him to have one of their Russian speakers call from somewhere and instruct them that way.

Pierce was becoming more and more impressed with Hogan's style of play. He thinks of everything, considered the man as he and BJ prepared to leave. Turning to BJ as they departed, Hawkeye asked for help. "I might want to re-enlist to do undercover work if this keeps up."

"Just taste the food, that'll keep you away," reassured the other captain.

Hawkeye and BJ wandered over to the guest quarters where Burlunkin lay. "Look at him, sleeping like a baby."

"Let's give him some nightmares," suggested Pierce as he spritzed the room.

"Phew," came BJ as he waved his hand and winced. "Can't you do that after you spray it on his clothes?"

"Sorry, it has to feel authentic." Pierce thought a minute. "Now that I've sprayed it, we know his mouth, pores, and clothing should reek this much after a certain number of hours; how long till he wakes up, Beej?"

Hunnicutt studied the Russian. "From the looks of him, I'd say six hours; he only had a big gulp of vodka, from what LeBeau tells me. Not the whole glass."

"Okay, figure this will dissipate in...three or four hours. Better spray some more."

BJ got up to stop him. "Hold it with the germ warfare, will ya, I didn't bring my gas mask." He poured some vodka on his clothes. "Let's get him untidied up first." Good thing Hogan helped make sure nobody saw us come in, noted the American.

Hawkeye nodded as he walked over to the window. "Actually, Hogan said something about one of us watching out here, didn't he?"

"True. Almost done with the fine details." BJ was wrinkling the man collar. He grunted as he pulled the KGB agent up and sent a little vodka down his throat. "He might gag a little, but so much the better. And yet he isn't choking, I made sure of that."

BJ got up to observe the window. "You may fire when ready," he informed Hawkeye as the medic returned to spritzing the room. He sprayed Burlunkin a little more, when BJ announced abruptly "someone coming."

Hawkeye quickly hid the squirt bottle in one of Burlunkin's bags as BJ bent down beside the prostrate man. Pierce was making his way to a kneeling position when the Korean sergeant appeared. BJ noticed him out of the corner of his eye and began smacking his lips.

Hawkeye didn't know how much English this man might have picked up serving in a military unit where Americans were held. From speaking to the patients he could tell not very much could be understood, but without Hogan there to comfort him he became a little frightened. However, he hid it well as the Korean uttered something he couldn't understand. From the contortioned face he could tell it was probably something along the lines of "it stinks in here."

"Da," Pierce remarked solemnly, nodding. "Drunk." Feeling happy the sergeant seemed not to understand, Pierce decided it was safe to talk. He would Russify to be safe, though. "Majorski Burlunkin got drunkinski. Verski drunkinski."

The Korean looked quite confused as BJ lowered his head and shook it, trying not to laugh. "Drung...kinski?"

Regaining his composure, BJ mimed the pouring of drinks. "Da, drunkinski," he emphasized, mimicking the very rapid gulping down of half a dozen drinks. He pretended to stagger to his feet, took a step, and fell face down. "Drung-kin-ski."

A light bulb seemed to flash on above the Korean's head. Grinning broadly, he proclaimed "ah, drunkinski."

"Da, da, drunkinski," Pierce and BJ exclaimed, as the sergeant proudly repeated "drunkinski" over and over, as a small child excited at learning a new word. At that moment, Hogan entered to barracks. "The Russian doctors have taught me a new word - 'drunkinski,'" came the excited Korean sergeant.

Hogan was about to tell him it was a swear word and not to say it anymore, but the other Koreans wouldn't know what he was talking about. Even if Burlunkin then heard and thought it sounded American, one of the pilots could always be told to say he taught them the word. Hence, he let it go, deadpanning "yes, Major Burlunkin is obviously very drunkinski." He ordered the sergeant "do not reveal this for a while, let him sleep it off till it stops reeking in here."

The sergeant nodded and prepared to leave, then remembered something. "The helicopter to pick up the most injured men will be here shortly, Doctors Piersinski..."

"They don't know Korean," Hogan explained, remaining in his Korean voice. "Tell me - you say it is on its way. I placed a call to a Captain Kinchkin regarding a child, did he call back?"

"Yes, his headquarters called and said to take the child to a sub."

"I will have one of my men do that." Newkirk would be going out purportedly to take the child to the sub. In actuality, he would be sneaking around to cut the phone lines in and out of camp to prevent Burlunkin's people from calling for a while - or vice versa. "You are dismissed." With a quick salute, the sergeant departed. "Good work, guys, he bought it; he said the chopper's coming for the Americans, the baby will go with them. As for the baby, he'll go with the Americans, but we'll make like Newkirk's going to take him to the sub when he goes out to cut the wires around suppertime."

"Great...wait a minute," came the suddenly concerned Pierce, "how'd he know we were here? Nobody saw us come."

"Well, I had to spread the word you had gone to check on Burlunkin in case he was getting drunk."

"Wait a minute - you told him?" BJ was nonplussed. "Why?"

"Didn't you think we could get in trouble," wondered Hawkeye.

"I have my spies, too, they knew that guy was something of a simpleton. And yet, he was the best man to spread this kind of rumor around. I was right behind him in case something went wrong, I could have rescued you. But I wanted you telling him, so I told him the major might be getting drunk." He smiled. "Or should I say he was getting drunkinski."

"That was all his fault," alibied BJ.

Hawkeye shook his head. "Only because you couldn't think of anything better."

"Actually, it was pretty good," admitted the general. "Now we just have to get these people off and the baby to South Korea - and I doubt our army will let him come as a refugee, but from what I hear, Schultz can always adopt him." He snickered. Actually, he wouldn't be surprised to see Carter getting in touch with an adoption agency and asking to be put in touch with a Korean orphanage, either. He'd grown to recognize how to handle someone like that.

The soldiers and the child got off quite easily that evening. When Burlunkin awoke he had a hangover, and was quite shocked to learn he'd been out for eight hours and it was well past midnight. He didn't know whether or not to report to Colonel Ying, but in his smelly condition, he decided a quick change of clothes would be the most important thing to obtain. Hogan had gotten some sleep, too, his body still accustomed to sleeping and waking on a moments' notice, or to remaining awake 24 hours or more if he had to. Therefore, while the others were all asleep in the post-op room, Hogan tapped a couple messages into the radio, then waited for Burlunkin to rise. He went to check on him once, and noticed him just moving around a little.

Half an hour later, he noticed the KGB man preparing to leave his quarters. Hogan chose to intercept him; why not rattle him a little more? He would speak in Russian this time. "Good morning, Comrade Burlunkin." The KGB man was slightly angry, but knew that greeting was a far cry from "Vlad." "How's the head?"

The Russian turned as if to speak to Hogan, then swiveled back and continued on his pace. "I do not want to talk about it." He knew what it would look like, but could swear he'd had only one drink. Three or four, perhaps he could have forgotten past that. But one? No, he knew he'd only had one.

"Hey, I understand, it's a shock to see someone drunk, too, I told my doctors to check on you personally, then to not report it, in case the word spread. I hope it hasn't already." Hogan put an arm on Burlunkin. "Anytime you want to talk about what's troubling you, I'm right here."

Brushing him off, Burlunkin snapped "just get me to a phone!" He wanted to phone headquarters and straighten out some things.

Hogan meandered back to the post-op room, noticing the major stomping back to his barracks a moment later. "Phones not working," he inquired sweetly.

The major stared, then turned and hollered "bah!", muttering some unintelligible insult about Koreans, before Hogan could use his line about someone in the KGB being out to get the major. But, that could wait till later. It would still be quite tricky, but the first leg of their mission was complete.

Chapter Six

Several more soldiers had gotten off via truck by midday. However, the phone wires had been repaired by evening, with five more patients yet to be moved. Hogan radioed a message that they were looking to plant the explosives and leave, but that Burlunkin was monitoring him a little more closely than he would have liked. He ordered radio silence maintained till he broke it or returned, then he quickly put the radio away. He doubted it would be useful anymore, and besides, the sub and the trucks were in place, all they needed to do was to get the troops into them.

Hawkeye grinned as they awakened early the next morning. Hogan had neglected to replace the listening device in the post-op room, and had the North Koreans too scared to come in and replace it. To make themselves seem busy, he had LeBeau wordlessly leave and hand to a sergeant a sheet of phony plans for ground troop movements. Hogan then appeared out of nowhere and asked Colonel Ying if he'd obtained the "information he gleaned" from the Americans. He had.

They prepared to make their final move that morning, after roll call. It would be too early for another Russian to come down and investigate, but he knew the confusion couldn't last forever. Hogan spoke to the doctors. "I just hope we don't have to be part of any more schemes. I'm still a little skittish about making these people think we're Russian since Burlunkin knows our Russian is really English, and can tell them that in Korean."

"I can't believe I'm starting to understand that," noted BJ.

The general gave the go-ahead to LeBeau, who flashed it to Newkirk, who had been taking a leisurely stroll in the compound, anywhere but near Burlunkin. Hogan pulled a chair over to the light in the middle of the room as LeBeau watched the window - if it weren't for them having to remove the bug every once in a while, Burlunkin might not be suspicious. However, there were only so many malfunctions he could blame on shoddy Korean workmanship.

Now, the bug was back in place, and he began barking orders in Russian. Hawkeye and BJ merely said "Da" intermittently. Soon, Newkirk was signaling LeBeau from the compound, and the Frenchman was transferring the signal to Hogan and the doctors. Burlunkin was indeed rushing into the office of Colonel Ying after the CO informed him that the listening device was again working. Why was it so problematic, they wondered. As Burlunkin listened, Hogan explained - in Russian - that the base Burlunkin thought they were going to was not the intended gulag. He declared that someone must have gotten their information mixed up, and that - for the major's sake - he hoped it wasn't someone in the KGB attempting to discredit him.

"Oh, da, da!" spoke Hawkeye, barely concealing a chuckle as he considered how much he sounded like a baby calling for his Daddy. BJ, remaining silent, turned away and allowed his chuckle to be muffled by an unused pillow. Well, let's see you do this with a straighter face, Pierce considered, appraising the snickering man.

Burlunkin quickly phoned KGB headquarters in Vladivostok - that city name was all Newkirk could glean from his post, kindly assisting a corporal in mopping the floor. Of course, even had he been able to listen intently, he would not have picked up any more, since the conversation was in Russian. However, he knew that the major was likely calling to confirm that the location had switched. When asking if the first prisoners had arrived, he would learn they were not - and would then be in a difficult position. Hogan hoped the Russian would be forced to admit he'd been spying. Burlunkin, after all could not question the general without letting on that he had spied on them.

Newkirk glanced at his watch and quickly left the office. When Hogan noticed him jogging toward them, he explained. "Okay, now Newkirk's going to take these men who can't walk and put them in an ambulance."

Newkirk and LeBeau quickly loaded three patients into the ambulance, then drove off. Shortly after they left, however, Burlunkin stormed into the post-op room. "The people in Vladivostok report that there have been no Americans arriving at any gulags," noted the Russian.

As the doctors tried hard not to fidget at the angry voice, Hogan shrugged. "Well, the weather's not exactly the best in Siberia," he noted.

"True, but we are concerned there could be a breach of security. We are requested to keep you and your men here until they arrive, and I have ordered this camp surrounded to ensure they do not get out."

Radar tried to contact Sparky, the operator, and see if he could patch a line through to the North Korean unit. He couldn't; Hogan had asked them not to call him unless there was a Korean speaker on the line, and none could be located right then. Carter suggested he simply ask for Kinch, which Radar did. The former radio man came to the phone quickly. "Hey, Captain Kinchloe, this is Corporal Walter O'Reilly, at the 4077th."

"Hello, how are things going? Any word about those packages?"

Radar shook his head. "No, and we're sort of worried, because he's had to maintain radio silence for about 18 hours."

"There might not be a problem." Kinch wasn't too worried, but he knew there could always be complications. "They still had five to get out, after all."

Radar hummed. "Yeah, I guess I'm just not used to this sort of work. Still, though, don't you think we can help him somehow?"

"Like what?"

The farm boy shrugged. "Well, what would you guys do in that situation wherever you were?"

Kinch rubbed his chin. "Well, sometimes it would help to have a diversion."

"Like what?" Radar seemed excited to possibly have something to do besides sit and wait. Kinch could envision what the corporal was feeling - he'd had the same experience many times himself.

The captain shrugged. "Anything, really." Too bad LeBeau doesn't know Korean, he might be able to do Kim Il Sung just like Carter used to do Hitler, Kinch reasoned. "Something to distract the Koreans from the real problem and help our men get away." He offered his apologies for not being able to offer anything concrete.

The corporal hung up, and Carter said "bad news" in a somewhat worried voice.

The young man seemed distracted. "No, but Captain Kinch said a diversion might be helpful, and I don't know what we could send..." Radar suddenly sat up very still, and Carter imagined more wounded were on their way. However, instead of rushing to the loudspeaker, all the youthful corporal said after his statuesque five seconds was "tomato juice." He then ran toward the door.

"Tomato juice," came a stunned Carter, picking up the code book and leafing through it.

No time for official pleasantries, Radar decided. It's like Hogan said, we're a team now. "Look, call Kinch back, tell him order a large plane with room enough to hold lots of liquid; I think I've got an idea." As he fled the scene, Carter figured that he'd either gone crazy or the corporal was a budding Hogan.

Radar quickly found Zale, a supply sergeant. "Remember when we got that running supply of tomato juice for Colonel Potter before we knew he was allergic?" Zale nodded. "Where is it?" He pointed to a large storage shed whose basement had months of tomato juice which had never been used. "Pull it out, gather as many people together as you can. I've gotta get a couple large vats from the kitchen, and Kinch is sending an airplane."

Majors Houlihan and Winchester walked out of post-op after doing their rounds. Both gawked at the incredibly odd sight in the center of the compound. Large vats, normally used for food storage and other things, were being loaded with tomato juice. Two large trucks sat nearby. Colonel Potter invited them over. "Come on, Majors, we're going to give those North Koreans a bath."

Houlihan looked askance at the tomato juice. "In that; that's what you bathe dogs in when they get sprayed by a skunk."

Winchester chuckled. "Excuse me, but...this looks quite absurd."

"Whose idea was this?!"

"It was mine, Sir...er, Ma'am," came Radar. "We knew the general needed some sort of diversion."

"And you decided to...give them tomato juice?" She turned to Potter and remarked "I'm totally clueless now."

"Well, it is the color of blood, and some of it's been sitting so long they might think it smells like old blood, might make them think it's a warning from Moscow or something, I don't know." Potter remarked. "Hopefully, tomato juice will make them as sick as it made me."

Hans Schultz, who had stopped back at the 4077th to visit before going on to Seoul and Tokyo, explained. "Major, if you had been at Stalag 13 when I was there, you would know that whenever Hogan is involved, very strange things happen."

"Father says planes used to disappear like magic," Lt. Schultz commented. "People would disappear, others would appear from nowhere, and the strangest things went on."

Houlihan shook her head and looked skyward as Winchester fought to stifle giggles as he excused himself. "Some days, this war makes no sense," Houlihan remarked.

"That is exactly what I would say - along with declaring that under the circumstances, it is so strange that I would much prefer to know noth-ing!" Houlihan shrugged and began pouring some of the last cans of juice into a vat.

As one of the vats was carted into a truck, Carter asked "what are you gonna be doing in Seoul? I thought you'd been there."

"My wife and I adopted five Jewish orphans after the war. I have always loved children, and now Oskar does, too. He and his new wife are adopting a child from a nearby orphanage, and I am going to help him get permission from the government." He remarked that "the child was just left there several months ago, and nobody knows where it came from."

Houlihan stopped. She wondered if she dared inquire. "A baby was dropped off at the camp about that time; I think it was a girl. We went and put the child on the doorstep of one of the orphanages without letting them know. We figured it was the child of some soldier, but the Army wouldn't let the child into the U.S. so it was the only way we knew the child would be safe."

"What did she look like?" Houlihan told him. "I believe that is the one. Oskar wondered why the child didn't look totally Korean."

"God works in mysterious ways," Father Mulcahy noted as the final vat was placed aboard the last truck, and the vehicles were driven out to meet the airplane Kinch had ordered.

Hogan, of course, was used to working in strange ways, as well, but he couldn't figure out how to get this to work. Thankfully, the communication barrier forced Burlunkin to leave the post-op room to speak on the phone. It was then that Hogan decided they'd better make their move. He bullied his way out of the building after setting the charges, threatening a Korean with decapitation if he didn't listen. He, Pierce, Hunnicutt, and the remaining two patients quickly hid in a supply shed.

Hogan snuck out, then eyed the camp perimeter. There was an area that was relatively unguarded if he could divert the guards' attention, but he also needed to remain behind to ensure that the depth charges went off. He hustled back in and ordered Pierce, Hunnicutt, and the last couple patients to the hidden chopper that was to transport them to safety. "No time to get another truck here, and we want to make sure these charges go off. They're ready to start arresting people, and I want to hide out here till the last possible moment, to keep them from finding the charges." With Newkirk and LeBeau having taken several prisoners out via truck, Hogan knew he'd be operating alone. But, he'd been alone plenty of times. It would be just like in Klink's office, delaying the investigation just long enough, so he could leave right before the explosions.

"Sir..." began Hawkeye, unsure what to say.

"Look, you know the patients take top priority. I'll be fine; it's nothing I haven't done a hundred times before." As Hogan barked orders sending a couple guards to the other side of the compound, where he claimed to have "spotted some prisoners," the other four began trekking into the hills. Major Burlunkin and several Koreans marched out into the compound and toward Hogan, inquiring where the others had gone. Suddenly, a plane flying overhead opened its cargo hold and sprayed the compound with a reddish liquid.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Hogan began assailing the stunned men in Korean. "You miserable Koreans think you're a match for the might of the Soviet military? This is a signal to you, you lowlifes, once we complete this project it will be the first stage in our plans. Korean blood will be shed everywhere, and the Korean Soviet Socialist Republic will be born. Kim Il Sung will die a horrible death in the gulag with the Americans, and the Soviet Union will reign supreme! Major Burlunkin will try to deny it, but he was behind this bloody sign to your miserable Koreans; your independence will not last more than a couple more months now!" Hogan fled amid angry Koreans questioning Burlunkin. He joined Hawkeye and BJ, along with a couple patients, near the helicopter, as the sounds of explosions roared in the distance. Even if the comp were to be rebuilt, he had acted zany enough the Koreans and Soviets would take a long time to trust each other, once everyone got finished reporting back to their respective headquarters.

Hogan couldn't help but ask as BJ helped him aboard the helicopter. "What'd you do, use all your old blood?"

"Actually, I think it was tomato juice," Hunnicutt hollered above the increasing roar of the chopper blades.

Hogan shut the door and shouted "tomato juice?"

"I'll explain later," hollered the doctor as the plane took off.

Once they were in the air, Pierce breathed a sigh of relief and turned toward Hogan. "Nice work, General," Hawkeye uttered, giving a very short salute.

Hogan returned it spontaneously before raising his eyebrows. He inquired of BJ: "Did he just salute me?"

"Yeah, but don't tell anyone," BJ requested, "you'll spoil his reputation." They laughed as the chopper headed for the 4077th.

Epilogue

"Your stuff's all packed into the jeep," came Radar as he entered the post-op room. "Doctors all send their regrets at not seeing you leave, but Colonel Potter says there's so many wounded the blood's flowing like tomato juice." Radar wondered if anyone back home would ever comprehend that joke.

Hogan laughed. "Thanks, Radar. Say," continued the general as Radar approached him, "that was a great idea you had about the tomato juice. Reminds me of some of my zanier diversions back at Stalag 13. Carter tells me you did a great job here those few days."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I'd love to write a letter of reference for you for officer's school, we could use a guy like you." With his organization skills and impromptu ideas, with a little training he'd be a natural.

Radar vigorously shook his head. "Oh, no, Sir, I've seen enough to know I never want to be an officer. I can't stand giving orders and not pitching in; it doesn't feel right with the way I was raised."

"Back when 'e ran our operation, General Hogan pitched in all the time; he was just like one of us enlisted men."

Even after Newkirk's comments, Radar looked quite skeptical. Finally, Hogan asked if he would at least do him the favor of considering it. Radar grudgingly told him "I'll let you know if I'm ever interested." Hogan could tell from the tone that the lad never would be, and let it go at that. At least he'd offered.

The general smiled as he meandered out into the compound. The remaining American GIs would soon be shipped to Tokyo for further treatment. The former explosives expert hobbled beside them on his crutches, on his way to the truck which was to carry him and a couple of other Americans to Seoul for transport there. "Well, Carter, I guess you're going home - this time for good. We can't draft you now."

"Yeah, I can't say I'll miss war. But it's gonna be hard resisting the urge to help him if my son ever gets to love explosives like me." He grinned. "My wife says she can't keep him away from our outdoor fireplace now; he loves to pretend to play at stoking the fire and moving charcoal around with sticks."

Hogan grinned. It wasn't too late for him to have kids. Yes, the military was his life, but he did feel the need to contribute something more lasting. He hadn't felt this way before, but the survival of their unit's key personnel had perhaps allayed those desires. He somehow sensed they might cross paths again. Now, however, he sensed a greater deal of closure. Baker, though never drafted in this war, would be flying in to Tokyo for a reunion in a couple days. Schultz's head bookkeeper, Wilhelm Klink, would join the obese ex-guard for a day or two there as well. Hogan's mighty unit might get together in part after that. However, he sensed that they had performed their last mission together. A small tear welled up in one eye as Lieutenant Schultz joined them. He was taking a break from operating room duties and performing last minute checks on all the patients.

"It don't have to be forever, General," noted Newkirk.

"Yeah, we'll still write. And air travel is becoming so much easier, I'm sure I could visit you sometime," remarked the Frenchman.

Hogan grinned. "Yeah, I guess I'm just thinking about our missions being over." Unable to explain any other way, he simply stated "it just wouldn't be the same if the Lone Ranger and Tonto got together as a couple of old folks just to attend the 1904 Olympics in St. Louis, and weren't helping someone. And, there are so many more to be helped yet." Newkirk and LeBeau were clear this time on who the legendary characters were.

Having learned from Oskar to never miss a chance to present the Gospel, Dr. Schultz spoke. "We are all called to do work like that; our thanks should be only knowing we helped someone, for then our rewards will be in Heaven. We should always be helping like that. We are not saved by works, though, but by grace through faith."

Not wishing to take any more of the younger Schultz's time Hogan turned to him and smiled. "Thanks, your dad and older brother and I had a long talk about that after the war. I've received that saving grace." He paused. "I'm just thinking about all the innocents behind what Churchill calls the Iron Curtain. I wish there was a way to keep our group together, to rescue them." And there are so many, he pondered.

Dr. Schultz heard the truck's engine start. As he took Carter's arm and assisted him into the truck, the German smiled. "General, I grew up imagining stories of some mythical character who was helping defeat the Nazis. I followed my older brother's faith, but more importantly, I knew a loving God could never allow a nation where children were worshipping that wicked Hitler to prosper forever. People of faith had to hide it quite often, just as they do, I am sure, in Russia. However, our faith won. Even if there was no 'Lone Ranger' in Germany, even if you weren't quite that ideal, the idea of one kept my hopes alive. The idea that there is goodness out there, that someone does fight for what is right, cannot be crushed. You may not be able to be 'Lone Ranger' there. But faith will, one day, set them free." Hogan smiled as he and Carter embraced, and Carter left in the truck. Perhaps that was enough. He saluted as the truck vanished from sight, and walked to the jeep with Newkirk and LeBeau.

"All set," inquired Radar as he opened the door for Hogan.

The sun had begun its slow incline toward the horizon, becoming more orange than yellow. "Yeah, thanks, Radar." The corporal stood back as the general closed the door and Newkirk started the engine, thankful to not have to impersonate anyone but himself.

"I never would have believed my father's stories could be true," expounded the doctor as the Heroes rode slowly away.

"Hogan and his men did some pretty amazing things during the last war, huh?"

Dr. Schultz nodded. "Oh, yes. That is why I have enjoyed this so much; I feel like I truly met the Lone Ranger."

Laughter burst forth from the two, as in the distance, Hogan couldn't help but look back and shout "hi yo, Silver, awaaaaay" as they rode into the sunset.