No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.

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"Louis!" Newkirk dug and scraped as he helped pull the self-appointed experts from the rubble. Then he found Le Beau coughing and spluttering as he made his way out as well. "Louis, are you all right?" Newkirk asked.

"Oui," he answered. "Oui." He looked up to see the Germans running toward him. "But Smallwood—he was in the direct path of the explosion. I saw him," Le Beau continued, almost crying. "I saw him—there is nothing left!" he said. "Just—just there—just his shoe!" he stammered. "There was blood, and then he was gone!" Le Beau keeled over. Newkirk caught him.

"What is he saying? Where is Herr Smallwood?" Stigler cried.

"Didn't you 'ear him?—He said he's gone! Bleedin' disintegrated!" Newkirk answered. He turned back to Le Beau. "C'mon, Louis. Wake up for me," he said.

Le Beau didn't move. Newkirk lay the Frenchman on the ground and leaned over him worriedly. Out of sight of the Germans, Le Beau opened one eye and nodded imperceptibly, then went back into his faint over his ordeal.

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"What is the meaning of this? What's going on?"

Smallwood was struggling as Carter tied the man's hands behind his back. "Sorry, Mr. Smallwood, but I had to get the part of the tunnel to collapse, and that big blast was the only way to do it and get you out of the hands of the Germans at the same time."

Carter smiled as he finished his job and then turned back to the Englishman. "You're going to have to stay quiet," he said. "We're going to move farther down the tunnel away from here, but your voice might carry a bit."

"I don't understand! What tunnel? Where are we?"

"We're under Stalag 13," Kinch explained, keeping his gun by his side but not raised. "You're going to go back to England, Smallwood. But not as a hero." He nodded to Carter. "Let's go."

They each took one of Smallwood's arms and headed toward the main tunnel and away from Barracks Nine. Smallwood started to cry out. Kinch shoved a cloth in the man's mouth immediately and shook his head.

"I told you, you have to be quiet," Carter said. "And Newkirk says I talk too much. Englishmen."

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"These men say they cannot work here any more; it is too dangerous," Le Beau translated, still sitting on the ground as Rhodes and the Underground agent came to speak with him, nursing some cuts and bruises.

"What?" Klink said. "They created the blasts—of course it was dangerous!"

Le Beau shrugged. "Archaeologists are very suspicious people, Kommandant. They feel this place would have bad luck now that someone has been killed here. They do not want to continue this excavation. They want to take what they have already found, and get everything else filled in."

"Do it!" spat Stigler, angry. "Get this area filled up with dirt and cement right now!" he ordered. "The world can wait a little longer for this 'great discovery.'"

"But what about the Klink Discovery?" Klink asked.

"What about the Klink Execution?" Hochstetter retorted.

"What do we do, Herr Colonel?" Lugsden was saying. "Smallwood is gone! And the notes I took—they have blown away! How do we explain this?"

"Maybe we can search the woods for them later," Newkirk suggested. "That is, before they put you in front of the firing squad for losing one of your most important traitors." He turned to Le Beau. "Come on, Louis. Let's get you back to the barracks." He helped Le Beau up off the ground, and patted the inside of his own jacket possessively.

Le Beau stood up and his wooziness abruptly disappeared.

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Schultz unlocked the door to Hogan's cell and swung it wide open. "You are free, Colonel Hogan," he muttered.

Hogan looked up, surprised. "Smallwood gone already, Schultz?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"I'm surprised, Schultz," Hogan said, standing up and stretching. "Isn't he supposed to be having a good ol' yarn with the boys about something? Or have they taken him in to town again so he can have a look at the ladies?"

"He is not in Hammelburg," Schultz replied, still bewildered.

Hogan frowned. "What's the matter, Schultz? Isn't he coming back?"

Schultz shook his head and widened his eyes. "Nein, Colonel Hogan. He will not come back. He blew up!"

It was Hogan's turn for his eyes to widen like saucers. "Blew up?"

"Ja. There was an explosion at the excavation site, and he went—poof!—up in flames. All they found was one shoe."

"Is that what that shaking was?" Hogan asked. "I thought Burkhalter was just walking too close to the cooler. Were any of my men hurt?"

"No, Colonel Hogan, they are all okay. Although the Cockroach, I think he fainted."

"He never could stand the sight of blood." He patted the guard's chest as he passed him on the way out. "Thanks, Schultz. I owe you."

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"Yes, General Burkhalter, that's right; they have filled in everything as it was before…. No, General, there is no chance of a prisoner escaping. Everything is secure, as usual... Colonel Stigler and Major Lugsden are on their way back to Berlin to explain what has happened, and Major Hochstetter has left as well…. The archaeologists? They packed up their truck and got out as quickly as possible. Suspicious people—weak! Didn't want to stay here after someone had been killed on the site….Ja, Herr General. Of course, sir. My regards to Mrs. Burkhalter!... Yes, sir. Shut up and hang up."

Klink sat back in his chair and sighed. "The Klink Discovery" was gone. He looked at the vase on his desk and nodded. Gone for now, buried with that British traitor under the ground. But after the war…

All at once, Klink picked up his phone. "Fraulein Hilda, I need you to find out who to apply to for land rights once the war is over…."

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Hogan hopped off the bottom rung of the ladder that led to the tunnels under Barracks Two and watched as the contraption locked itself back in place. Le Beau was the first one he saw. "Everything okay?" Hogan asked.

"Oui. Welcome back, Colonel."

Hogan gave a mild smile. "Thanks. You get hurt? Schultz said you fainted."

"Non, mon Colonel. That was just acting to get the Germans away from the hole."

Newkirk came up and punched his arm. "You could have opened your eyes a little faster. I wasn't sure if you were putting it on or not for awhile there!"

Le Beau turned to him. "Aw, were you worried?" he asked, teasing.

"Never!" Newkirk replied. "I just thought I was gonna have to carry you all the way back to the barracks, and I didn't want to strain meself!" Newkirk reached into his pocket and pulled out a half dozen sheets of paper. "And when everyone fell down on top of each other from the impact of the explosion, the poor Major lost some of his papers." He handed the pages to Hogan, who looked them over quickly and nodded appreciatively. "Notes from Smallwood's talk," he said, nodding. "How did you manage it?"

"Well, sir, I had to help the gentleman up, you know. Only politeness, after all. The rest of his papers went flying over the fence in the wind. If they go looking, they won't find anything on those! Bad luck, poor man," Newkirk added, shaking his head regretfully.

Hogan smiled and stuck the papers in the breast pocket of his bomber jacket. "Bad luck brought on with a little help from Light Fingers Newkirk."

"I'm proud to have been a part of it, sir."

Carter approached from further down the tunnel. "Carter?" Hogan greeted him.

"You missed it, Colonel! One of the best-looking explosions I've ever created! Lots of smoke, even a few flames to make it look like it could have incinerated someone, and boom! It was really exciting!" the Sergeant gushed. "Boy, if I hadn't done it myself, I would never have guessed that it wasn't an honest-to-goodness, accidental, deadly blast! You should have seen it, boy!—uh, Colonel!"

Hogan shook his head. "I could hear it from the cooler. Did it do its job?"

Carter bobbed his head. "Sure did—the link between the digging site near Barracks Ten and the real tunnel we have under Barracks Nine is gone. And after the Germans ordered the men to cement off the area, there's no chance they'll ever be able to go back and reach our tunnel system now."

"Excellent."

Kinch was the next to appear. "Colonel—the Gestapo has pulled out of the area—and fast. There'll be two Underground agents waiting to take the two fellas from Stalag 7 and Smallwood back out at twenty-three hundred hours. And they'll make sure Smallwood is escorted rather forcefully back to the Allied sub at the rendezvous point tonight."

"Good. How'd he take it?"

"He's mad as hell, Colonel." Hogan snorted. "But he'll survive."

"So will a lot more of our boys… no thanks to him."

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Just before the appointed hour, Hogan stood before Smallwood in the tunnel, his men surrounding him. He looked the Englishman over with a critical eye, then shook his head in disgust.

"You make me sick, Smallwood. I consider it an honor to hand you over to the authorities."

Smallwood waited a moment before responding. "Well, Hogan, this appears to be your 'playground,'" he goaded quietly, reminding Hogan of their first encounter. "There are no 'big bad Krauts' here with rifles to stop you. So why don't you make yourself feel better and get whatever it is you have against me out of your system, eh?"

Hogan stared at Smallwood, anger putting flames in his dark eyes. His men watched tensely as the senior POW seemed to consider Smallwood's suggestion. But Hogan remained stock still, his breathing steady, his fists clenching and unclenching, his eyes boring through Smallwood in a way that made them all uncomfortable. Finally, Hogan broke out of what appeared to be a self-induced trance and spoke. "I don't need to touch a hair on your head, Smallwood. This 'failed flyboy' has it all over you already. And while I have something to say about it—and I do—guys like you are never going to win." He took in and let out a heavy breath and turned to Newkirk. "Newkirk, Le Beau, get him out of my sight. It's starting to stink in here."

Newkirk came forward, Luger in hand, grabbing Smallwood by the arm and shoving him none too gently toward the exit. "With pleasure, Colonel."

"Oui, avec plaisir," Le Beau repeated.

Hogan turned back toward the main part of the tunnel to head back upstairs. "Why should I always be the one to put out the trash?"

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Kinch's head appeared at the top of the ladder as he started speaking. "Just spoke with London, Colonel," he said.

Hogan looked up from the table, where he was watching Newkirk and Carter play a very one-sided game of gin rummy.

"Smallwood is back with the authorities. They're none too pleased with him, they say."

"British understatement," Hogan said with a shake of his head.

"They said to pass on congratulations to all on a job well done."

"Good!" Hogan said, standing up. "You certainly all deserve it." He paused, almost awkwardly, before continuing. "Thanks, fellas, for coming through when it came to the crunch. I'm sorry I… put it all in jeopardy by losing my temper."

Newkirk was the first to break the silence. "It worked out better this way anyway, sir," he said. "Hochstetter couldn't pin a thing on you that way—or us. We're all clean and the Gestapo took off like a shot!"

Hogan nodded. "Maybe I should keep my nose out of it more often!" He smiled resignedly. "I'm tired, fellas. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, gov'nor."

"Good night, sir."

A few minutes later, Hogan heard a light tapping on his door. "Come," he said.

The door opened and Le Beau entered quietly, nodding knowingly when he saw Hogan sitting up on his bottom bunk, his blankets smooth and untouched. "I had a feeling you would not be asleep, Colonel," he said, holding a cup of coffee in his hands.

Hogan smiled softly and accepted the offered drink. "Louis, when are you going to stop knowing everything about me without my telling you?"

Le Beau shrugged. "When you stop being a human being." He let Hogan take a swallow before he asked, "How do you feel now that Smallwood is gone?"

"Pretty good," he admitted. "I couldn't stand the idea of someone throwing away our boys' lives for his own gain. And he had the gall to tell me that I was a failure!" Hogan paused. "At least I didn't forfeit anyone's lives on purpose."

"No more 'what ifs,' Colonel?" Le Beau asked quietly.

Hogan shook his head. "No, Louis. No more. I did everything I could to save that plane. Everything that happened had a reason. This is where I was meant to be."

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"Message from the Underground, Colonel. The Heuneburg agent who was here with the fellas we picked up said to tell you that they're grateful for the pottery, and want to know where you got the Greek pieces from."

Kinch handed the note to Hogan, who scanned it and then looked at his men. "Nice work, fellas," he said. "You fooled the experts. It says here that the piece with the Greek soldier heading off to war was better than anything they could have expected from a bunch of men stuck in a prison camp."

"Greek soldier?" Newkirk repeated. "I didn't do any Greek pieces; did you, Andrew?"

"Well, gee, no, I didn't do any either, Colonel. We didn't have anything that looked like that."

Hogan furrowed his brow. "Well they got the stuff while they were digging here. Everything they picked up was from us, wasn't it?" Hogan's men looked at each other. No answers. "Le Beau?"

Le Beau shook his head. "Olsen and I did not do any painting. Just the firing."

Hogan toyed with the note, chewing his bottom lip. "So where did it come from?" His eyebrows rose as he realized the implications of the men's denials. "Kinch, you'd better get back on the horn and tell those Heuneburg experts not to throw anything out. It looks like they're going to have a new excavation job waiting for them after the war—right here at Stalag 13!"