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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The old man's eyes sparkled as he laughed at his visitor's amusing anecdote. "You are nothing but an old rogue." His smile widened as he held up the half-empty bottle. "Another glass of wine, my friend."

"No, Friedrich. No. These indulgences are too much for a man like me."

Friedrich laughed and lowered the bottle back on to the small table beside his comfortable chair. "You are foolish, Dieter. Didn't anyone ever tell you that an old man is entitled to his indulgences?"

"Oh, perhaps some are, Friedrich. But not me." Dieter looked at his companion thoughtfully. "My superiors will be expecting a report tomorrow."

"Young renegades who do not understand how real work gets done," Friedrich amended. "Everything is not guns and loud voices." He shook his head. "It is just amazing that our so-called inter-departmental meetings passed the short-sighted inspection of those supposedly in charge."

Dieter nodded. "Whatever finishes this war faster," he said. "There are no glorious wars, Friedrich... only glorious moments within them."

"Paperwork. How glorious is that?" Friedrich remarked. Dieter shrugged and glanced back at the papers on the dinner table. "All right, Dieter. I can see you are anxious to finish. At least this we can do in the comfort of my humble home. I shall go back to work. The last on our list is Stalag 13."

Dieter snorted. "Stalag 13," he repeated. "A prison camp. Not a very interesting place, surely."

"Not to me," agreed Friedrich. "But to a Major... Hochstetter," he said, scanning the paperwork, "it's a virtual hotbed of subversive activity."

"This Hochstetter—he is one of yours?"

"Looking at his record, I'd like to say he's Abwehr... but I can see no trace of intelligence there." Friedrich laughed. "He certainly is persistent, though. He's been wasting our resources on that place for months. He insists Stalag 13 is at the center of a plot to throw the war in favor of the Allies."

"A plot? The Abwehr has no such reports," Dieter said. "I understand it's actually quite secure. We spend little time worrying about prison camps that have perfect no-escape records! Anyone who would want to throw the war in favor of the Allies certainly hasn't gotten out of there. And if the Kommandant of the camp is anti-German, then he certainly has a terrible way of showing it."

"Once again, we agree, my friend," Friedrich said with a smile. "But every group has its fanatics; Hochstetter is simply one of ours."

"I hope I never meet his Abwehr counterpart," Dieter remarked. "The young officers I know now—they are bad enough. What is on the Stalag 13 report this week?"

"Nothing specific; just a memorandum from Major Hochstetter that it will remain under surveillance for suspicious activities."

"Very well. I will discuss it with Major Teppel tomorrow; we will get involved if you wish."

Friedrich snorted good-naturedly. "Don't bother, Dieter—this Hochstetter insists he has it all under control."

"Should you not perhaps remove him and replace him with someone else who is not so... obsessed with the improbable?" Dieter asked. "It seems a great waste of resources, and someone else could probably see the facts for what they are and be out of there in no time."

"I have tried... and failed," Friedrich declared. "But I will note that Abwehr is willing to do its part to bring this fiasco to a swift end. Not in those words, of course," he added with a chuckle. "One cannot be blunt with this regime."

"No. One certainly cannot." Dieter stood up and stretched his back carefully. Then he moved closer to the fire and intently watched the embers glowing in the flames.

Friedrich watched his friend with a concerned frown. "Your limp, it is very pronounced tonight, Dieter."

"It is nothing but the damp weather," Dieter said dismissively. "It passes, my friend."

"One day you will tell me how that hip came to be so faulty."

Dieter laughed softly. "I have told you before: it is just an old war wound, Friedrich. There is no exciting story, I'm afraid."

"It is another one of your secrets, you mean." Friedrich smiled gently, amused by his friend. "You do not fool me, Dieter. You are much more exciting than you let on. Some day I will know as much about you as you know about me!"

Dieter laughed. "And on that day, one of us shall be dead!" His own smile faltered slightly, then he turned away from the fire. "Come, let us have more wine. We have worked hard tonight. Perhaps it is not wrong for me to indulge after all."

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"Trouble in paradise," Peter Newkirk observed, as he watched a shiny black German staff car speed through the gates and into Stalag 13. He flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette, his eyes following the car to where it stopped just outside the Kommandant's office. He frowned as someone he recognized got out. "We'd better tell Colonel 'Ogan," he murmured.

"I'll find him." Sergeant Andrew Carter pulled away from the wall of Barracks Two. He turned to head inside the hut but didn't even have a chance to open the door when he nearly ran into their commanding officer.

"We've got company," Robert Hogan commented. His eyes narrowed as he tracked the visitor.

"Yeah; Major Hochstetter," Carter confirmed. "Talk about unwanted guests."

Hogan nodded absently, still watching as the Gestapo officer clearly dressed down a camp prison guard and then pushed past him and up the stairs to see Colonel Klink.

"We'd better put the coffee on," Hogan said, heading back inside, and followed quickly by Carter and Newkirk; "it's only polite, after all."

The trio moved into Hogan's office, and the Colonel pulled a coffee pot from underneath his desk. In a few short moves, the appliance was set up for its real purpose: to eavesdrop on everything happening in Klink's office.

"Newkirk, get some crumpets, will you, old boy?" Hogan suggested dryly.

"Right away, sir," the Englishman answered. He put a finger to his lips to quiet Louis Le Beau and James Kinchloe as they came into the room to see what was going on.

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Wilhelm Klink was pushing endless paperwork around his desk when he heard shuffling feet outside his office followed by a hasty knock, and suddenly his secretary, Helga was standing tensely in the doorway, her shoulders hunched up as though she was trying to make herself as small as possible. "Kommandant, Major Hochstetter is here to see you." Almost before the words escaped her lips, the Major pushed his way past the pretty blonde and into the room. Helga hugged the door to avoid the virtual whirlwind that his entrance created.

Klink stood up immediately. "Major Hochstetter, this is an unexpected—"

"Klink, shut up and sit down. The Gestapo is taking over Stalag 13."

Always flabbergasted by Wolfgang Hochstetter's abruptness and complete lack of manners, Klink did as he was told. "What?" he managed, disconcerted by the small man's rudeness.

"Last week, the Gestapo raided a transmitting station near Hammelburg and confiscated a large number of coded messages that are still being deciphered. The transmissions originated in this area, Klink."

"And?" Klink asked wearily.

"And one of those messages made reference to a long-term plan to destroy the Gestapo."

"By whom?" Klink asked in wonderment. "How could they do that?"

But the Major just ignored him and continued. "We very nearly had them when we decoded the first message, Klink—that shows how amateur they are. We headed straight to the meeting place that we determined the transmission was referring to."

"And did you track down this meeting?" Klink asked, only the tiniest bit of sarcasm daring to slip into his voice. He hated when Hochstetter made every part of the Gestapo's war Stalag 13's personal problem.

"Yes."

"And what did you find?"

Hochstetter scowled. "Two old men and their wives playing pinochle." His tightened fist curled even smaller. "But that does not matter, Klink," he rebounded. "What matters is that the Underground is actively plotting against the Gestapo, and I will not rest until they are stopped. Where is Colonel Hogan?"

Klink blinked himself into what he hoped passed for control. "Colonel Hogan is somewhere in this camp, Major."

"'Somewhere in this camp'?" Hochstetter repeated in disbelief. "Klink, do you not know where your prisoners are?"

"I have guards, Major Hochstetter. I do not have to know exactly where in this camp every prisoner is every second of the day. The men are allowed to roam Stalag 13 within certain boundaries during daylight hours unless they are being disciplined, which they are not at this time, and I am certain that Colonel Hogan is among them."

"I am not so certain, Klink," Hochstetter countered. "I have good reason to believe that Hogan spends quite a lot of time 'roaming,' as you put it, but not in this camp."

Klink physically restrained the sigh that was threatening to come out. Not again. "Major Hochstetter, we have been all through this—"

"And we shall go through it again, Klink: Colonel Hogan—"

Back in his office, Hogan's men recited the oft-used phrase along with Hochstetter: "—is the most dangerous man in all of Germany."

Hogan scowled, not at his men's actions, but at what Hochstetter's presence was doing to his operation. He simmered while Hochstetter outlined his plans.

"Stalag 13 is going to be my command post, Klink. I shall stay here with some of my men, working on deciphering the information we have gathered to try and pin down a definitive identification of these subversives. A radio detection truck will be here in about an hour. And I am going to keep a close eye on Colonel Hogan and the rest of your compliant prisoners. There will be extra patrols just outside the camp, and I might even ask your own guards to do some work for a change. Order a roll call, Klink; I want to know we are starting with everyone, so I can be as certain as you are."

Hogan unplugged the coffee pot and let out a frustrated sigh. "Well, that sounds pretty ominous," Kinch observed as he put the pot away. "What do we do, Colonel?"

Hogan pursed his lips. "Kinch, get on the horn; cancel my outing for the night. Then make sure the Underground knows to lie low for awhile—no radio transmissions to camp until we say so. Carter, Le Beau—tonight's out. You'll have to investigate that new munitions depot another time. We're not gonna take any chances outside the wire while Hochstetter's so gung-ho. I'll have to see what I can do to take the wind out of his sails."

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"I didn't see you come into camp, Major," Hogan said, approaching Hochstetter as the Gestapo officer headed for his car.

Hochstetter stopped only briefly to sneer in the American's direction. "I didn't think it was important to check in with you when I got here," he said.

"I just wanted to say hello," Hogan pressed. "I mean, we haven't seen you around here lately. You've been a bit of a stranger."

Hochstetter's eyes narrowed. "I see. And this concerns you."

Hogan nodded sincerely. "Oh, sure it does, Major. Why, when you come into camp, all of a sudden my men stand taller, straighter. They pay more attention to themselves and their behavior. It's inspiring, Major, just inspiring."

"And why would they do that for me?" Hochstetter asked, suspicious.

Hogan tried to look surprised. "Why, respect for the uniform, Major!" he said. "You're always so nicely turned out—just look at the shine on those boots." Hogan smiled appreciatively, then added eagerly, "Heading out for a special lunch, maybe? Meeting some of the big boys from Berlin?"

Hochstetter growled. "Don't be ridiculous, Hogan. If you must know, I'm out here to set up Stalag 13 as my base of operations."

"Base of operations? Is something exciting going on, Major?"

"Someone is trying to attack the Gestapo."

"And you've come out here to make sure you're out of the line of fire?" Hogan nodded approvingly. "That's a smart move, Major. You don't want to get caught in the crossfire. Mind you, to some, that could smack of cowardice. But I'd never say that, no, sir."

"Bah!" Hochstetter burst. "Hogan, get out of my way. I have things to do and no time to talk to you."

"Sorry, Major," Hogan said apologetically. "If I can be of any service, just let me know."

"The best thing you could do for me is try to escape so I could have you shot."

Hogan frowned as Hochstetter turned away from him and hopped into his car. "Gee, a guy tries to help..."

"Roll call! Roll call!" Sergeant Schultz's loud voice boomed across the camp. Soon, the heavy guard was standing beside Hogan, who was watching Hochstetter's car race out the front gate. "Colonel Hogan—there is a roll call. Major Hochstetter's orders."

"Yeah, okay, Schultz," Hogan replied, still watching the Major's retreating vehicle.

"There is something wrong, Colonel Hogan?" asked Schultz.

"Nothing unusual," Hogan answered; "just Hochstetter's uncanny ability to ruin a perfectly good war."