Mistaken Identity

chapter 2

Meanwhile, across the street:

Gladys Kravitz was watching one of her favorite shows when the screen turned blank. She got up off the couch and turned the dial to some other channels. They were all working. She turned it back to CBS and there was nothing.

"Abner, Abner!"

Her ever-patient but often fed-up husband was in the kitchen fixing himself a snack, when he heard his wife's call. Sighing, he put down the pie, and walked into the living room.

"Abner. There's something wrong with the TV." Gladys pointed.

"Do the other channels work? " he asked

"Yes."

"Must be an issue with CBS. Lost a signal or something."

"But it's Hogan's Heroes. You know that's one of my favorite shows."

"Call Hogan then," he said. He then chuckled.

"Very funny."

"Call CBS."

"I'm not calling the network, Abner. Why do I have to be the one to always make the calls?"

"I'm sure they know. Either they'll fix it or they won't. It's just a show."

"Abner!" Gladys stomped her foot. "Maybe it's our TV." She headed for the door. "I know Mrs. Stephens likes to watch. I'll check with her."

"Agnes, don't bother Mrs. Stephens," he said, although he knew it was useless. He shrugged and went back to the kitchen to enjoy his piece of pie.

Samantha stood in front of the cast and attempted to come up with a viable story to keep them calm and still. She came up with an idea. Tell the truth; partially.

"I have no idea what is going on." She smiled; the members of the cast paying attention to her stopped yammering. The other ones, the ones she had a hard time corralling, kept invading her space. "Carter. Step away from the books. Please. Now."

"Oh, yes, ma'am." The chagrined sergeant turned and stood still.

Sam counted and found two men were missing. "Newkirk. Oh no. Where is he?"

"He and Hogan went that way." Crittendon, never able to resist tattling, pointed to the hallway leading to Darrin's office.

"Oh my stars. Sergeant Kinchloe, make sure no one leaves this room," Samantha ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," Kinch replied, offering a salute, as Samantha took off for the hallway.

"Something is not right here." Schultz was seated in a comfortable chair, helping himself to candy he found in a bowl.

"You can say that again. No don't." Klink held out his hand.

Carter sidled up to Kinch. "We've been brought into the future."

"That's impossible."

"Then how do you explain the TV, that magazine with the date, and her hairstyle?" Carter folded his arms across his chest and waited for an answer.

Kinch was about to offer a retort when he heard a knock at the door.

"There's a knock at the door," Crittendon said.

"That's stating the obvious," Kinch replied.

"Well, answer it. That's an order."

"It's not our house." Kinch paused, as the doorbell rang, incessantly.

"Mrs. Stephens! Help," could be heard through the door.

"Well, if you're not going to answer it, I will." Crittendon headed for the door, but was stopped by Kinch's tackle.

"I'm putting you on report!" he blustered.

"Sorry, but something weird is going on here and I think we should stay put," Kinch stated as he helped bring Crittendon to his feet.

Crittendon looked at Klink for help. "Kommandant?"

Klink stood up. "Sergeant, you are not allowed to tackle a superior officer. Even if it is this one."

Crittendon recovered his dignity and headed for the door.

Meanwhile, Samantha entered Darrin's office, where she discovered both Hogan and Newkirk examining her husband's drafting table.

"This is private. Please go back to living room, now."

"Sorry." Newkirk tipped his cap. "I was just following the guv'nor here."

"If this is a Gestapo plot, we need to check under every rock, piece of furniture, every stone, every sofa, and every file cabinet."

"That's enough, Colonel. Shame on you," Samantha said.

"That man really does do advertising," Hogan whispered.

"That man is my husband, and yes, he is in advertising." Samantha then heard commotion from the leaving room. "Now what?"

Blissfully unaware of the goings on in the rest of the house, LeBeau was lovingly starting the chicken soup. He sang to himself as he worked, marveling at the wonders of the kitchen. These people must be rich, he thought. Everything was in English. How stupid. If the Gestapo was involved, they had lots of resources. The Gestapo doesn't play around, he realized. Unless it was true and they had somehow been thrown in to the future. He never believed in science fiction. Although he was fond of Jules Verne and H.G. Wells, to him it was just fiction. And magic was just unexplained tricks. He continued humming, regretting that the soup would not be done in quite some time. As he said, you couldn't rush these things.

HhHhH

Samantha came into the living room at a run and stopped. Endora had taken over from Darrin and he was at the top of the stairs when Crittendon pulled open the door.

"Oh no. this evening keeps getting better and better," Darrin muttered for the second time when he saw who was at the door.

"I was watching Hogan's Heroes and the channel stopped working. Is your TV working?" Gladys started to say. And stopped. She first saw Crittendon, who resembled that weird doctor who made house calls. But when she looked past him and saw the tall, distinguished looking man who resembled the nice Sergeant Kinchloe from Hogan's Heroes, her mouth hung open and words failed to come out. She swiveled her head, saw Hogan standing behind him, and fainted.

"What did we do?" Hogan asked.

"Beats me." Newkirk said. He shrugged and headed over to the couch. "Stop eating all that candy mate." He patted Schultz's stomach. The guard stood up.

"Bring the lady over here," the guard said kindly.

Samantha cupped her head in her hands and let out a groan.

Gladys woke up to find the cast of Hogan's Heroes standing over her.

"Let me help you up, my dear lady." Klink was confused, but he decided to be chivalrous. He assisted Gladys, who gratefully took the sip of water handed to her by an unusually calm Darrin.

"This happens all the time," he hissed to Samantha.

His wife looked at Gladys and said, "We have an explanation."

"No need," said the star struck neighbor. "Mr. Stephens, I'm sure this is one of your advertising projects." She walked over to Hogan and ran her hand over his arm. "I'm Gladys, Mr. Crane. I'm a huge fan."

"Thank you?" Hogan said as he gently pushed her away.

"And you," she walked over to Newkirk. "That's not your real accent is it?"

"Oh, goodness." Samantha grabbed Gladys. "My TV isn't working either; it's a problem on their end; we checked. I'm sure they will rerun the episode. And you're right, of course. Darrin. Care to explain?"

"It's um; yes. It's a huge campaign. After all, they have a captive audience." He chuckled. Did I just say that? "Can't tell you everything. It's secret. But, they…" He pointed to the cast. "Well, they're involved. Please don't spread this around. Proprietary information."

Gladys had no idea what Darrin meant, but she nodded solemnly. "You're rehearsing?"

"Well, you could say that?" Sam looked over at the men; all of whom were staring at these odd people, and looking completely confused. "Right?"

"Um, yes." They all mumbled.

"This is another Gestapo plot?" Klink whispered to Hogan.

"Beats me," Hogan replied. "And who's this Crane?"

"This is me real accent, mum. I swear." Newkirk emphatically protested.

"It's amazing how they stay in character," Gladys confided in Samantha as she was escorted to the door."

"Remember, mum's the word," Samantha reminded her neighbor.

"Of course. Can I get Hogan's autograph?"

"I'll see to it." Samantha let out a breath and fiddled with her hair for a moment before going back inside. "Next thing, Larry and Louise will be driving up in a car. Perish the thought. " But before she crossed the threshold, she glanced down both ends of the street. Seeing no signs of Larry's vehicle, she breathed a sigh of relief.

All the prisoners and the two Germans were arguing. There were several still convinced of a Gestapo plot. This included Schultz and Klink. Carter and Newkirk were on the fence. And Kinch and Hogan didn't know what to think. Everything appeared so real; the technology was suspicious and the TV guide was icing on the cake. Kinch had actually discovered books with copyright dates past the 1950's. They decided a breakout was the only way to get to the truth.

Once Samantha was inside, Hogan motioned for Carter and Newkirk to come over to where he and Kinch were standing. The four, conveniently forgetting about LeBeau in the kitchen, huddled near the back of the living room, next to the sliding glass doors leading out into the backyard. Crittendon followed.

"We have to break out," Hogan whispered.

"A plan. I like it," Crittendon commented.

"You haven't heard it yet," Newkirk hissed.

"And leave those two nincompoops here?" Kinch asked, pointing at Klink and Schultz.

"We'll come back for them," Hogan decided.

The five, huddled in a group, moved in unison-sideways- toward the door.

Endora and Tabitha were still breathing in lots of steam up in the bathroom on the second floor.

"How do you feel my darling?"

"My dose is stuffed," Tabitha replied. "And it's yucky in here."

Endora grabbed a tissue. "Here. Blow."

Tabitha obeyed her grandmother and let out a sniff and a huge blow. This time some gunk came out of her nose.

Endora shuddered. Eww. She waved and the shower turned itself off; the steam dissipating.

"Do you think you could try getting those nice men back into the television?"

Tabitha nodded. Endora picked up her granddaughter and headed for the stairway.

"I'll go check on LeBeau; you amuse the rest of them," Samantha told Darrin.

"How?"

"Figure something out."

"Would anyone care for a drink?" Darrin asked the group.

At that, in unison, all the characters paused.

"Don't drink or eat anything." Hogan's voice was firm and loud and everyone stopped.

"But…But…Colonel Hogan; I had some of the candy, and I feel fine."

"I know, Schultz, but if this is a plot, who knows what's in that liquor."

"Really?" Darrin groaned. "Look. It's safe." He poured himself a large glass and gulped it down.

"Well, in that case." Klink and Schultz came over and accepted Darrin's hospitality. Meanwhile, Hogan silently signaled to his men.

"I think we forgot something," Carter whispered as they got closer to the door.

"Do you have any saffron, Madame?" LeBeau asked Samantha, who was relishing the delicious aromas coming out of the pot on the stove.

"Saffron. Yes." Samantha twitched her nose and opened up the cupboard. "You must have just missed it." She handed the packet to the chef.

"Merci."

Endora and Tabitha, who was now holding her grandmama's hand, were at the second step from the top when Endora noticed the attempted getaway. Hogan had his hand on the doorknob. And Darrin was not paying attention to the airmen; instead, he was having a pleasant conversation with both Schultz and Klink. Klink was regaling the American with tales of the first war, exaggerated of course.

"HALT! " She held up her hand and locked every door and window in the house.

Hogan's hand began to slip on the knob. What the heck? He pushed; he pulled; he twisted it both ways and nothing would budge. "This was open a few seconds ago."

Hearing her mother's loud voice; Samantha ran out of the kitchen, through the dining room and into the living room.

"Durwood was not paying attention," said Endora, who was now at the bottom of the stairs. "They were about to make a getaway."

"See, I told you it was a Gestapo plot." Klink took a swig of his drink and smirked. For once he was sure he had one over on Hogan.

"Yes, right. Believe what you want." Darrin glared at his mother-in-law. He walked over to his wife and smiled, grasping her shoulder in affection." Sorry."

Samantha removed her husband's hand and walked over to Tabitha. "How are you feeling sweetheart?"

"I blew my dose and all this stuff came out."

"Can you try and send all these nice men back?" Samantha whispered in her ear.

"Okay, mommy."

Hogan began heading for the family holding them captive. "Wait." He held up his hand. "I have to…"

Tabitha, using her finger, twitched her nose, and in an instant, the men vanished.

The TV screen came back to life, but there was no sign of Stalag 13, or Hogan's men. Instead, the screen was playing a movie. Darrin walked over to the TV and turned it off.

"Well, I'm glad that's over," Samantha stated.

"I'm sorry, Mommy." Tabitha was well aware she caused problems. But she was only four and not feeling well.

Endora hugged her granddaughter. "I'll let Bombay know she twitched them all back,"

"Thanks, Mother."

Endora, without paying any more attention to Darrin, vanished.

"I'll take Tabitha upstairs," Samantha told Darrin. "Can you straighten up down here?"

"Of course." Darrin began fixing up the living room, when there was a knock at the door. Samantha turned. "Go on," he said. "It's probably Gladys."

As suspected, when he answered the door, Gladys was standing on the stoop. "My CBS channel is working." She tried seeing around her neighbor.

"I know. So is ours," Darrin said.

"Are they?"

"No, they left."

"Oh. How disappointing."

"Remember," Darrin told her, "this is a secret."

"Oh, I won't tell anyone. Were you able to get any autographs?" She didn't believe Darrin. She had been looking out her window since she returned to her home, and she knew she wouldn't miss seven actors dressed as their characters leaving the home. Come to think of it; how did they get there? She hadn't noticed any cars, taxis, vans, or busses.

"No. I'm sorry. I'll ask. Now, Tabitha is not feeling well, and I have to check on her." Darrin had to physically push his neighbor out of the way.

"All right. I hope she feels better soon."

Darrin could see the suspicion in her eyes. This was par for the course. Gladys kept looking back at the house as she walked across the street. It was another mystery; one she would add to the long list of weird things going on in that house.

Once that was done, Darrin decided to pour himself another drink. After all, it had been an exhausting and stressful evening. He took the glass and flopped on the couch.

"Can you read me a dory, Mommy?" Tabitha, her nose still a bit stuffed, asked.

"Of course. Let's get you under the covers." Samantha eyed her daughter. Even though the steam cleared Tabitha's head enough to send the TV characters back, the little girl still looked ill. She sighed. Human colds couldn't be cured; just managed, and she dreaded having her daughter sick for up to a week. Hopefully, this bout would strengthen her immune system. Making a mental note to get a much longer visit from Doctor Bombay to discuss Tabitha's human/witch biology, the distracted mother opened up Tabitha's favorite book and began reading.

LeBeau was still in the kitchen, lovingly skimming the froth of his large pot of homemade chicken soup and drinking from a bottle of cooking wine he found in one of the cupboards. He sang to himself in French as he waited for whatever plot Hogan devised to get them all out of this weird situation. Eventually, his intuition told him something was amiss, and he walked out of the kitchen. The lights were off in the living room and dining room and no one was about.

"Colonel Hogan?" He heading towards the stairs and down the hallway. "Newkirk? Kinch? Schultz?"

The office was dark and empty. He took a side trip into the lovely powder room, and then after several moments, he left and walked back into the living area. "Carter?"

"Samantha? Darrin?"

He turned to the stairs and shrugging his shoulders, he headed up to the second floor. There was a night light on in the hall, but the second floor was totally silent. Two doors were closed. He assumed they were the couples' and Tabitha's bedrooms.

"They forgot me." He frowned. "What a mess." He turned around several times.

"Mon colonel forgot me. No more coq au vin for you!"

He was very angry; but then he remembered the soup. LeBeau went downstairs, turned off the stove and waited until the pot cooled. This took quite some time. He drank more wine, and made himself a sandwich. Furious, he tidied up the kitchen. He then walked into the living room, turned on the light and picked up the magazine on the end table.

He picked up the TV Guide and began reading it cover-to-cover. Finally, he made it to Friday night. His eyes grew as wide as saucers when he saw the listings. He tried to say something, but nothing came out. His mind now a blank; for he was in shock, he stood up and mechanically headed for the stairs, walked up and went into the spare bedroom down the hall.

Samantha was up first. She checked on Tabitha and was relieved to find her daughter fast asleep and cooler to the touch. Padding down the stairs, she paused. "I thought Darrin turned the lights out." After retrieving the paper from the front stoop, Samantha went into the kitchen to start some coffee and prepare breakfast. Opening the refrigerator, she stared at the large pot placed on the bottom shelf. She paused for a moment counting in her head. How many were in the living room when Tabitha sent the characters back? Her heart seemed to stop.

"Oh my stars!"

She ran out of the kitchen and frantically searched the living room, the office and the powder room.

There was no sign of the corporal.

She took two steps at a time.

"Sam?" Darrin was standing outside the door of the guest bedroom.

"He's in there?"

"He. Who's he? I mean what do you mean, he?"

"I don't think LeBeau was in the living room when Tabitha sent them back."

"Oh, no. Just, please. No." Darrin slowly opened the door and turned on the light.

LeBeau was sprawled across the bed, the TV guide clutched in his hands. He must have heard the noise, because he woke up. Blinking at the light, he tried to recall where he was and what had happened.

"They escaped without me," LeBeau said as he tried to stand up.

"I'm sorry, but we forgot you were in the kitchen. It happened so fast," Samantha explained.

"Never mind that." LeBeau, still holding the TV guide, walked over to the not-so-happy couple and opened it to a page. "Explain this!"

Samantha glanced at the page and then back at the corporal. "Weeelllll?"

Corelle is a brand of glassware and dishware. It is made of Vitrelle, a tempered glass product consisting of two types of glass laminated into three layers.[2] It was introduced by Corning Glass Works in 1970, but is now manufactured and sold by Corelle Brands.[3] It's extremely hard to break. If you're ever in New York State, I recommend a trip to Corning for a tour of the glass factory and museum. courtesy of Wikipedia.

Dr. Bombay is obviously referring to the character of the doctor in Star Trek: Voyager. He was a hologram. When activated, medical holograms always repeated that line.

In my experience, men are notorious for not making phone calls. If you are a man and are reading this, I apologize for the insult.

The RAF equivalent of an American colonel is group captain. In the episode, "Funny Thing Happened on the Way to London," Hogan's RAF friend, James Roberts is a Group Captain. I have no idea why the original production team decided to buck facts and make Crittendon a colonel.

The TV show on the other channel is "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir."

For those not too familiar with Bewitched, Samantha frequently uttered "Well" in a long, drawn out manner. A signature line in reaction to whatever chaos was occurring in that week's episode.

Diahann Carroll is on the cover of the TV Guide featuring the local TV listings from March 14-20, 1970.

The Hogan's Heroes episode on March 20th was "Crittendon's Commandos." Season 5, episode 25.