Author's note: the orders from London on the set-up of the operation are a direct quote from "Art, for Hogan's Sake". It is not intended as copyright infringement, merely as something to promote continuity between the series and this story.

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"Come."

Kinch opened the door to Hogan's office when he heard the Colonel's faint voice from the other side. Expecting him to be in bed, he was surprised when his eyes finally fell on Hogan sitting at his desk, his head resting on his arms. "Colonel?"

"What is it?" Hogan asked, not moving.

"We just got word from London. Bailey, Killian and Troy are back with the Allies."

Hogan lifted his head and looked at Kinch, a slight smile creasing the corners of his eyes. He's reached his limit, Kinch thought instantly. "Good. Thanks, Kinch."

Kinch studied Hogan's bruised face guiltily. "Sir, the Gestapo's gone. Why don't you get some sleep?" he suggested.

Hogan rubbed his eyes, being careful to avoid a tender cut above his right eyebrow. "Nice of them to drop in, wasn't it?" he quipped tiredly. "You've gotta admit, they sure know how to liven up a party."

"Sorry we didn't have any warning, Colonel." Kinch, Newkirk and Le Beau had been sure Hogan would now settle in to life at Stalag 13 with relative ease, when the Gestapo had arrived unexpectedly during morning roll call and dragged him out of formation. Though he'd said nothing, the look of panic in his eyes had been unmistakable beneath his outwardly calm demeanor. After several hours in Klink's office, and after a "quiet talk" with the Gestapo officer and his guards in the cooler, Hogan had been returned to Barracks Two, exhausted, doubled over, and nursing some cuts and bruises that one didn't normally acquire during the course of polite conversation. Saying nothing to the others, he had disappeared into his room and shut the door. That had been an hour ago, before worry and word from London had convinced the men to ignore Hogan's obvious wish for privacy, and see for themselves how he had coped.

"Well, Klink did say he wasn't going to tell me anything this time around—just in case I tried to escape again." Hogan shrugged, then leaned back stiffly in his chair and looked seriously at Kinch. "Little did they know what we pulled off last night. And what we'll keep pulling off."

Kinch was amazed as Hogan launched into a commentary of his ideas, as though they were already decided. "But first we have to get some things straightened out. Like that tunnel exit. Last night, Le Beau couldn't get the plank to move; it's too susceptible to the weather. There's an old tree stump near the planks that we could use instead; we'll have to hollow it out and hinge it so it can be opened and then shut without anyone noticing it's not like every other tree in the woods." Hogan stopped short and winced as he put a hand to his sore abdomen. "And we'll have to dig a tunnel that leads to the cooler," he added, frowning at his recollection of the interrogation he had undergone that day. "No one should be stuck in there alone."

Kinch nodded. I suppose getting Wilson would be out of the question, he said to himself. Still, he kept his worried eyes on Hogan's face and tried. "Sir, we should get Wilson to clean you up so you don't get any infections."

"Maybe later," Hogan said, grimacing as he stood up slowly. "Right now there's too much to do."

Kinch moved aside to let Hogan pass into the common room. "Colonel—are you saying that you're going to accept London's proposal to set up operations here?" he asked, following Hogan out.

Hogan didn't answer. He went to the stove and picked up a cup and the coffee pot, aware of the eyes of the others on him.

"Colonel," Le Beau said softly, "we did a good thing last night, getting those men out." Bailey's last words to Le Beau as they left had been, "Take care of Papa, okay?" Le Beau, touched by the closeness of the two men, had given his promise. And now, looking at his senior officer, he knew that it wouldn't be an easy job, but it would be one that he would be honored to do.

"Back in London already," Hogan said quietly, slightly wistful.

"Wouldn't mind taking up an offer like that meself," Newkirk said lightly, trying to raise the mood in the room.

Hogan turned around and glanced at the others, almost unwilling to meet their eyes for long. "I wouldn't either," he said. Le Beau, Kinch, and Newkirk exchanged glances. Somehow, even though they were anxious to get out of camp, they had admitted in private conversations that it would be a challenge and a thrill to undermine the German war effort in such a unique way. But they couldn't force Hogan to do it—and they weren't even absolutely certain they wanted him to.

"Kinch, can you call the Escape Committee together for a meeting tonight?" Hogan asked.

"Sure, Colonel," Kinch answered.

"What are you going to tell them, Colonel?" asked Newkirk.

"First of all, I want to thank them for helping the guys from Stalag 9 get out. It was a big risk, and they all came through." He paused. "Then I'm going to ask if they want to keep on doing it."

"Colonel?"

Hogan continued slowly, deliberately. "If you fellas are still willing to give it a go—and if London will go along with what I think needs to be done—" Hogan paused. Am I really going to do this? What am I getting myself into?—"then if I can work something out with the prisoners regarding a no-escape policy, and we can be of some real use to the war effort…" Hogan took a deep breath. "…then I'll accept the command of a unit here in camp."

Hogan was dizzy from the idea—or was it the ordeal he had already been through that day? In either case he felt himself feeling weaker than he wanted to, and sat down, elbow on the table, shielding his eyes with his hand.

The paleness in Hogan's face didn't escape the others. Le Beau said, "Colonel, I will go get Wilson."

"Not necessary," Hogan replied without any real protest.

"You've been through enough today, Colonel," Kinch said. "We have to look after our new boss."

"Our Papa Bear!" Newkirk added with an encouraging smile.

Hogan stopped when he heard his flying name and looked at the others. "Okay." He looked at Kinch. "We'll have to contact London. There'll be a lot to work out."

"Sure, Colonel," Kinch said, nodding toward Le Beau to get moving. "We'll do that after the meeting." He drew Hogan up from the table and guided him back to his room. Newkirk raised an eyebrow when Hogan didn't seem to protest or even notice. But the officer's mind seemed to be somewhere else, too preoccupied to notice his actions now.

Hogan turned back to Newkirk, forcing Kinch to stop. "I haven't even asked you fellas if you still want to do this—I mean, if I'm presuming—"

Newkirk took in the exhaustion on Hogan's face, a reminder to himself that the sacrifice Hogan was asking for from the other prisoners was one that he himself was making. The pull to go home was so strong, so very strong. The chance to escape was staring him straight in the face, and yet he was feeling pressure from the others to give it up. No, let's face it, he thought, it's pressure from yourself. You know you want to get the Krauts. "No, gov'nor," he said aloud. "You're not presuming. We want to do it—I mean, at least I know I do," he amended.

Hogan nodded absently and let Kinch escort him to his bunk to wait for Wilson.

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"'You will assist escaping prisoners, cooperate with all friendly forces, and use every means to harass and injure the enemy.'" Hogan read from the clipboard Kinch handed him from his scribbling by the radio the next evening. "Those are our orders," he said, handing the board back to Kinch and looking at the others. "Everything else is up to us."

"That's it?" Newkirk said, amazed. "Don't they have specific jobs for us?"

"Nope," Hogan said. "They're going to leave it up to us to know what to do—for the most part. And give us jobs to do when they need us to. They're going to be counting on us to pass on sensitive military information and troop movements whenever possible. And we'll have to rendezvous with agents and the Underground to get a lot of this stuff."

"And how are they expecting us to do that?" Le Beau asked.

"Kinch?" Hogan prompted.

"I've got a list the Colonel made up of the things we're going to need—maps, German uniforms, civilian clothes, weapons, ammunition; you name it, he's asking for it. Over the next couple of months, the Underground will smuggle some of it in."

"In the meantime we're going to count on drops by Allied planes to get us started," Hogan continued. "We'll have to go out of camp to pick up the stuff, and bring it back in. And we're going to be pretty busy…extending our tunnel network. We're going to need access to just about every place in camp—the supply huts, the other barracks, even Klink's quarters."

"Only fifteen men have requested transfers to other prison camps, Colonel," Kinch put in. "The rest of them are ready to do whatever it takes."

Hogan nodded. "Those fifteen men will be transferred with the proviso that they tell no one what we're up to. We can't afford for anything to be traced back to us. The rest of the men have agreed to keep our little secret. We're going to tell the prisoners as little as possible. No point in handing out information that could be dragged out of them in a weak moment by some persuasive Gestapo officer." Hogan paused, feeling the results of the Germans' "persuasive" methods vaguely throbbing all over his body. "We're putting out a call for experts of all sorts—tailors, forgers, explosives experts, anyone with any kind of talent we can put to good use. But we'll only use them when we have to—we're going to have to count on a small core group of men to carry the load."

Hogan stopped. "You fellas became my support group by default. I want you to know that you can feel free to join those fifteen men at any time. This is strictly volunteer. No one would think the lesser of you, including me."

The men all lowered their eyes as Hogan tried to read their thoughts and intentions, and for a moment no one spoke. Finally, Le Beau said, "I promised Lieutenant Bailey I would look after you. I cannot do that if I am somewhere else, Colonel."

"No one else knows how to run this radio the way I do," Kinch said to Hogan. "Last time you used it, it took me half an hour to get all the switches back the right way."

"I can't go back to England now, gov'nor," put in Newkirk. "I wouldn't recognize it. At least here I have a chance to stop some of the damage the Krauts are doing."

Hogan nodded, taking in the devotion of the men around him. "Thanks, fellas." He turned to Kinch. "Kinch, is London still on the line?"

Kinch tapped a few times to send some code through. "Yes, Colonel. They're waiting for your final answer."

"Tell them that they've got their branch office," he said. "And make sure they pass on a message to Bailey, that Papa Bear will be in command."

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"What's this all about, Schultz?" Hogan asked, as he stepped into the antechamber leading to Klink's office three weeks later.

"There is a new prisoner, Colonel Hogan," Schultz said. "And as senior prisoner of war, you are to be in attendance for his interview with the Kommandant." Schultz paused before opening the door to Klink's office. "Oh and by the way, Colonel Hogan, I am very pleased with the flowers your men have planted outside the guards' barracks. Lilies have always been my favorites!"

Hogan grinned broadly. "My pleasure, Schultz." The more flower beds you get, the more tunnels we get. "And thanks for getting us those extra lamps, too. Can't imagine who would have stolen them—are you sure they haven't shown up anywhere else in camp?"

"Nowhere, Colonel Hogan. The Kommandant was most displeased about getting you more. But he said you told him something about the Geneva Convention…"

Hogan just grinned and strode past Schultz into the office. A young man in a slightly battered dark jacket and off-white fur collar was standing in front of Klink's desk, his head bowed as though ashamed of himself. Hogan's face immediately lost its cheeky expression, and he stood beside the man in a gesture of support. "Kommandant, you're bringing this man into camp?"

"Yes, Hogan," Klink responded. "As a matter of fact, he's being assigned to your barracks." Klink looked at the young man. "Sergeant, your days as a flyer are over. You are now a prisoner of the Third Reich."

"Don't worry," Hogan said to the wide-eyed soldier. "The Thousand Year Reich only has a few months to go if the Allies have anything to say about it. Who'd have thought a millennium could pass so quickly?"

Klink shook his fist in frustration. "Hogan….."

"Oh, and by the way, Colonel, the men are requesting more blankets. Some of ours have disappeared along with the lamps." Hogan chuckled. "Anyone'd think someone's hoarding things in a tunnel or something!"

The new prisoner seemed shocked at Hogan's flippancy. Klink only made a gesture of futile irritation and ordered Hogan out. "And take Schultz with you!" he bellowed.

Hogan led the way out of the office, and, with Schultz lagging behind, he started chatting with the man beside him. "I'm afraid our Colonel Klink's not much of a host," Hogan said light-heartedly. He turned to the man with real concern for his well-being. It seemed like only yesterday that Hogan himself had been escorted through the camp for the first time. But then, there had been no one but Schultz to show him the ropes. "I'm Colonel Robert Hogan, senior POW officer."

"Sergeant Andrew Carter," the young man said.

"Any hobbies, Carter?" asked Hogan.

"Gee, well, I used to like playing with my chemistry set at home," he answered, a childlike innocence suddenly lighting up his face. "But I kept blowing things up, so my folks made me stop…for awhile."

Hogan smiled broadly and put his arm around Carter's shoulders. "Well, Sergeant, let me tell you about Stalag 13. We run things a little differently around here. You might even get to indulge your hobby, if you play your cards right, and no one would be upset if you caused a little accident…."