SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1The T.V. show Hogan's Heroes belongs to Bing Crosby Productions.

No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred, (except for the 7 new characters introduced in this story) and no infringement is intended.

Weaving a Web to Freedom,

The Truth is What We Make It

By M L Breedlove

Chapter 1

"Quiet night!" Hogan half muttered under his breath. The soft breathing of the sleeping men in Barracks Two drifted through the closed door into his room. Normally he would find that comforting, but tonight…he felt uneasy.

Robert E. Hogan, Colonel, United States Army Air Corps, former leader of the 504th Bomber Group and now senior POW at Stalag 13, was not your average POW. Besides being the only officer in an enlisted man's Stalag, he and his men were actively working with the local Underground.

Just relax and get some rest; nights like this are too few to waste.

Hogan twisted again under the covers trying to find a comfortable spot that would lull him off to sleep.

This is ridiculous!

Kicking at the blankets he finally tore them off and sat up.

Ok, that's it, I've got to walk!

Silently, he climbed down from his upper bunk, dressed, grabbed his bomber jacket and crush cap from his locker, and crossed to the door of his private quarters. Finger-combing his black hair, he opened the door and took in the serene view of the next room.

Quite a contrast from the activities that took place in this same room over the past two nights; we've earned this break.

Rubbing his eyes, he shook his head.

I wish I could make better use of it!

Quietly moving past his sleeping men, he made his way to the door that opened into the compound, and slipped outside, just as a searchlight swept by. Hogan dodged the beam and, staying in the shadows, headed for the motor pool. The few guards on duty were comfortable in their routine and Hogan had no trouble sliding inside the boundaries of the wooden fence surrounding his destination. He leaned against the fence and sighed. Feeling safe from the probing eyes behind the search lights, his shoulders sagged with fatigue.

Ok, now what? Why am I so jumpy? My men did an excellent job getting the twelve escaped prisoners from Stalag 4 moved out. With the help of the Underground and their new ID's, they'll have no trouble making it back to England. Is this battle fatigue? No…and even if it is, I don't have time for it.

Hogan looked up at the moon.

Clear night, our boys should be hitting some good targets tonight. The thought had barely formed in his mind, when he shook his head in exasperation. Damn! Am I going to spend the rest of my life judging every night sky by how good it is for a bombing mission?

He ached to be back in the sky. How long had it been now? Fourteen, no fifteen months, not that he didn't enjoy his current situation. Getting it over on Klink, the camp Kommandant, and keeping the local Gestapo chasing their tails, forestalled the monotony of being a POW. But still, there was something about not being in the air, not feeling the roar of his plane and the voices of the bomber group he commanded that left him feeling incomplete.

Face it; that time has past. You've accepted a new role and your responsibilities lie here with these men, with this command. Let it go!

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Klink had just finished buttoning his overcoat when Sergeant Schultz came into the office.

"Sergeant Schultz reporting as ordered, Herr Kommandant!"

Sergeant Hans Schultz, weighing in at 280 pounds, was the primary guard assigned to Barracks Two. After The Great War he had become a successful and affluent toy manufacturer. And if it weren't for this current war, he would have never put on his uniform again. Though he was quite skilled at dealing with ruthless business men, he struggled to stay stern with the prisoners under his charge. Many of them, like their German counterparts, were barely older than Schultz's own sons at home. He soon developed a fondness for them and often found himself looking the other way when he learned things best left unknown. The prisoners supplemented Schultz's willingness to see nothing with the occasional bribe of chocolate or apple strudel. Schultz constantly reminded himself, that he was German, and as such, he had a duty to perform. He would not allow escapes, but outside of that, the "boys" had a lot of leeway.

Colonel Wilhelm Klink, on the other hand, was a "career soldier," though not by choice. He was expected to go into the military, like his father before him and his father before him, and so on and so on. He felt himself lacking in this military role and so resorted to "props" to add oomph to his appearance of authority. Hence the habit of carrying a riding crop under his left arm. Wilhelm Klink appreciated good books and fine music. He even attempted to play the violin, all to the chagrin of any poor soul forced to sit through one of his performances. Had the decision been his, he would have found himself having a career in the "arts".

"Good Schultz, right on time. Do you have the flashlights?"

"Jawohl!" Schultz held one out to Klink. "Herr Kommandant, what are we looking for?"

"We are going to pay a surprise visit to Colonel Hogan." Klink looked behind Schultz. "Where are the four guards I ordered to go with us?"

"They are waiting outside." Schultz's brow furrowed. "Are you sure they are necessary?"

"Schultz! Just do as you are told." Klink headed out the door.

"Jawohl!" a less than enthusiastic Schultz answered, as he followed behind.

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Hogan became immediately alert at the sound of the sirens blaring and the search dogs being released. "Now what?" He started out from the safety of the motor pool, only to run into Schultz standing in the compound bellowing out orders.

"Hey Schultz, what's up?" Hogan asked, looking around at the frantic display of guards and dogs.

"Colonel Hogan, what are you doing out here? You are supposed to be in your barracks. Come, the Kommandant is looking for you!"

Hogan quickly looked back at Schultz. "Are you trying to tell me, all of this is for me?"

Schultz frowned with worry as he looked at Hogan. "Colonel Hogan, what have you been up to?"

"What have I been up to? I just went out for a little air, Schultz. What are you up to? Since when do you release the dogs because you don't find me in the barracks?" Hogan gave Schultz an incredulous look, while again peering over his shoulder at the chaos going on around him. He was immediately confronted by the sight of Kommandant Klink closing in on him.

"Well, Colonel Hogan, we seem to have caught you in the act of trying to escape."

"What? Kommandant..."

"Silence! Schultz, take Colonel Hogan to my office."

Hogan, now red faced, felt Schultz place a guiding hand on his arm and momentarily resisted.

"Please, Colonel Hogan," Schultz pleaded, and then quietly encouraged, "don't challenge the Kommandant out here. You can talk inside."

Hogan snapped his head around to look at Schultz, intending to voice his dissent, but the concerned face looking back at him caused him to reconsider. Swallowing his anger, he turned and began walking toward the Kommandant's office.

Klink turned around to find the men in Barracks Two spilling out into the compound. "The rest of you men go back inside. No one is allowed out of their barracks. Corporal Kohler, I want guards posted outside every barracks." With that, Kommandant Klink spun around and headed for his office.

Corporal Kohler was six feet ten inches of immovable guard. In contrast to Sergeant Schultz he was all soldier. No one got past this mountain. And you would be the worse for it if you tried. The Corporal didn't go looking for trouble, but he didn't turn away from it either. It was a mystery to the men whose misfortune it was to be POW's at Luft Stalag 13, (also known as the toughest POW camp in all of Germany from which there had never been a successful escape) why Kohler was stationed here, instead of wrecking havoc against the Allies on the battle field. The prisoners could only surmise that he had connections.

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Inside Barracks Two, Hogan's stunned men were trying to make sense of what just happened.

"Hey Kinch, what's the Colonel up too?" Sergeant Andrew Carter, U.S. Army Air Corps, asked as he peered out through a crack in the shuttered windows. Carter was the group's explosives expert. His expertise was frequently used on the local bridges and railways.

"I don't know, Carter. The Colonel said nothing about any of this." Sergeant Ivan Kinchloe, a muscular black man and Hogan's second in command, was also U.S. Army Air Corps, and the primary radio operator for this unit. He could patiently sit for hours waiting for communications from London or the Underground.

"Come on, let's listen in." Newkirk said, as he headed for Colonel Hogan's quarters. Corporal Peter Newkirk, the group's pessimist, was British and could thieve information from locked safes or enemy officers' pockets, without anyone knowing it happened. A fairly useful talent, considering.

Corporal LeBeau was way ahead of him and was already opening the door to the private room of their Commanding Officer. Louis LeBeau, destined to one day become a great French chef, was the idealist of the group. Fervently patriotic, he was always ready to charge in and score a "blow" for France, Liberty, and Freedom. And the fact that he could turn the enemy's head with his gourmet meals didn't hurt either.

Thus was the makeup of this small band of men, and whether they wanted to admit it or not, they were closer than brothers, loyal not only to their cause, but to each other.

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Schultz guided Hogan into Colonel Klink's office.

"Schultz, what's this all about?" Hogan demanded, as he turned to face his escort.

Colonel Hogan had reason to be suspicious. He and his men, in addition to moving downed fliers and escaping POW's out of Germany, were also involved in acts of sabotage and espionage. It was a position they found themselves in when they realized they could do more for the Allied war effort from behind the enemy lines, than just being prisoners of war. Unfortunately, it was also a position that would get them hung or shot without question, if caught. London sanctioned their acts and used them frequently to gain information or delay the enemy.

"Colonel Hogan, if I knew I would tell you. The Kommandant did not confide in me. I only know he had me bring four armed guards and we were going to see you." Schultz stopped talking as he heard the outer office door open. "Please, Colonel Hogan, do not cause any trouble."

Hogan did not answer as he stood stubbornly waiting for Kommandant Klink to enter.

Klink stormed into his office, bumping into Schultz. "You're dismissed, Schultz! Wait outside!"

Schultz saluted and began to leave, but not without a backward, worried, glance at the prisoner he was leaving behind.

"Colonel Hogan, I want an explanation and I want it now!" Klink, riding crop still in his hand, glared at his senior prisoner of war.

"I just went out for a little air!" Hogan answered incredulously. He couldn't believe the situation he was in. This whole thing is too bizarre, he thought. Why is Klink over-reacting like this? And why did he go looking for me to begin with? "Kommandant, what's going on?

"What's going on? Suppose you tell me, Colonel Hogan? I get a call from Major Hochstetter in the middle of the night commanding me to place you under arrest. And when I go to your quarters, you're not there!"

Wolfgang Hochstetter, the local bully, was an ego-maniac, and was well placed as a Major in the Gestapo. The depth of his enjoyment for his job showed through every pore of his being. Wringing information out of his prisoners brought him more satisfaction than actually attaining it.

"Why does Major Hochstetter want to arrest me?" Hogan demanded.

"I asked you first," Klink said as he dropped into his chair. "Sit down Hogan...while you can."