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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Five days later, Hogan found himself called to Klink's office. "I thought you would be interested in knowing, Hogan, that Captain Lehmann will not be doing any more audits of Luft Stalags."

"No?" Hogan replied.

"No. Based on what happened at Stalag 13, Captain Lehmann has been removed from Central Supply, and the Gestapo is investigating. They think he may have been involved in the black market!"

"Really?" Hogan asked, trying to sound astonished.

"Who knows how much damage he might have done, if he was allowed to continue this kind of immoral activity?" Klink declared, shaking his head.

"Who knows?" Hogan repeated, looking around the office. He spied the box of things that had been pilfered from Lehmann's collection by his own men, sitting in a box on the safe behind Klink's desk. He raised an eyebrow when he realized the bottle of wine was still among the items.

"Imagine the nerve of that Captain Lehmann! Using Stalag 13 to fill his own pockets!"

Hogan had watched Klink fume and pace in his office several times in the past week about the whole affair, and ensured he made suitably sympathetic sounds of support. Now, he rounded the desk to get closer to the box and said, "That certainly was unfair, sir. I'm just glad you're going to return everything he took to the prisoners."

"Of course I'm going to return—wait a minute, why should I return everything? Some of those things the men should not have had!"

"Well, you can afford to make a gesture," Hogan proposed.

"And I suppose shortening Corporal Newkirk's sentence in the cooler to one week was not a gesture?" Klink retorted.

"That was only being fair, Kommandant. After all, if Newkirk hadn't been caught in Captain Lehmann's car, you might never have known what he was trying to pull!"

Klink harrumphed but did not reply.

"Come on, Kommandant," Hogan said in his smoothest, most convincing voice. "Why not be big about the whole thing? Your own report to Berlin didn't include the things that were already dispensed," Hogan reminded him, fingering the bottle of wine. Good call of Le Beau's to include one of these little beauties. "And what are a couple of spoons and candlesticks to a man like you, who already has so much?" He picked up the bottle and ostensibly studied the label. "And such good quality." He looked around the room for a corkscrew.

"That man was a coward, Hogan. A coward!" Klink declared, snatching the bottle out of Hogan's hands. Still intent on disparaging the auditor, he didn't take notice as Hogan discovered a corkscrew in one of the desk drawers and handed it to him. Automatically, Klink plunged it into the cork and started turning it. Hogan found two glasses and placed them on the desk as the German continued speaking. "Using unarmed, cowed men to build up his own wealth. It's unthinkable!"

"Yes, it is," Hogan agreed. He sat down in the chair in front of Klink's desk and began to massage his injured leg with both hands as the Kommandant finally succeeded in uncorking the wine.

"You know, Hogan, I wouldn't put it past him to have been causing trouble at every Stalag that has a report pass his desk." Klink carefully poured two full glasses of wine. "Lehmann was a dangerous man. But he won't be bothering anyone again!" He picked up the glasses and turned to Hogan, who was frowning as he continued trying to soothe his aching leg. "You should take the medicine from the hospital, Hogan," he suggested matter-of-factly. "You're obviously still in pain. Those pills don't do anyone any good sitting in the bottle."

Hogan stopped trying to ease the throbbing and reached out for the glass Klink offered. "Neither does this wine, Kommandant," he answered. He took a sip and sat back in his chair. "But it sure tastes a lot better going down."

Klink was about to respond when he saw the glass in his hand as though for the first time. He sighed resignedly and took a long drink himself. "It certainly does."

The two sat drinking in silence for a moment before Klink said, "And there's something else you should know."

"What's that?" Hogan asked. He stiffened slightly in response to a twinge in his shoulder. A gulp of wine followed, and he relaxed.

"Major Schafer's article about you won't be making it to publication."

"It won't?"

Klink shook his head and kept drinking. When he emptied his glass, Hogan reached over to the desk and, picking up the bottle, refilled Klink's and then topped up his own. Klink took another long drink but didn't speak. Hogan raised an eyebrow, then took a small sip out of his own glass before saying simply, "I guess I wasn't that interesting, after all."

"Oh, you were interesting, all right," Klink countered. "It's what you had to say that was the problem."

"What's wrong with what I said?" Hogan asked, his voice defensive. Besides the pack of lies I told at the end of our conversation. "As I remember it, he couldn't wait to take everything I told him and run it straight to Berlin!"

"That's true," Klink agreed. "But he took everything you said a bit too seriously. Did you know he phoned Berlin after your little chat, and suggested that they move their armaments to Leipzig and Wiesbaden?"

Hogan furrowed his brow. "Why did he do that?"

"Who knows?" Klink replied with a wave of his hand. "But something you said made him think that those two cities were vulnerable to attack, and he believed it enough to convince Berlin it was true."

"What would I know about that?"

"Obviously, nothing." Klink paused and drained his glass. Once again, Hogan reached over to refill it. He gauged how much wine he had in his own glass and did not add to it. "Leipzig and Wiesbaden were left alone this week. But Berlin was bombed within an inch of its life by your destructive Allied planes last night."

Hogan's face broke out in a huge grin. "Really?" he said.

"You don't have to look so happy about it," Klink said sourly.

"Oh, yes, I do," Hogan replied. "I'm only sorry I wasn't there to help them do it!"

"It was barbaric!"

"Tell that to the people in London, who've already been through all this."

Klink snorted. "Don't you worry, Hogan. We'll be ready tonight."

"Maybe the Allies won't go back tonight."

"They will," Klink predicted. He sighed. "They will."

Hogan drained his glass and placed it on the desk. "Then God help us all."

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"Robert. Robert!"

Hogan tried to ignore the voice persistently attempting to wake him up. "Mmmm," he moaned, unable to turn away.

"Robert, I need you to talk to me."

"Mmm… no. Please… please, just let me sleep."

"You did it, Robert. You succeeded. In both tasks."

Hogan opened his eyes and turned slowly toward the voice, surprised to see the peaceful face of Gunter Kleinschmidt looking back at him. Hogan felt ashamed. "I'm sorry, Gunter. I'm sorry I used you to get the Germans."

"Friends help each other, Robert. Right?" Hogan furrowed his brow. "You helped me; I helped you," Kleinschmidt explained.

"I didn't help you," Hogan protested softly, his head pounding, his body trembling.

"You did not ignore me in the car. You did not spurn me because I was the enemy. When I was frightened, you comforted me."

"But you were—"

"Robert," came Kleinschmidt's voice. His strong, insistent voice gave Hogan pause. Then the German added gently, "You were my friend."

Hogan nodded, and closed his eyes as he gave in to his body's demands to rest. "And you were mine."

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Hogan was sitting on his lower bunk, trying to rub away an unrelenting headache when Kinch knocked on his door. "Come."

The radio man came inside and closed the door behind him. "London just called, Colonel." Hogan paused, his hand still on the back of his neck, and looked at the Sergeant. "They say congratulations on a job well done, and they wanted you to know that last night's raid was a big success—the RAF sent in four hundred and forty Lancasters, and had only a two percent loss. There were diversionary attacks on other cities, but the losses were still minimal."

Hogan smiled and let his hand slide away from his neck. "That's great," he said.

"You look tired, sir," Kinch observed, still monitoring his commanding officer and not completely satisfied with what he saw.

"It's been a long war," Hogan replied. He glanced fleetingly toward the upper berth of his bunk. His preferred sleeping place, he was looking forward to being able to climb back up there easily. But that was still days away from being a possibility.

"What'd Klink have to say?" Kinch asked.

"Nothing special. Newkirk will be out of the cooler today."

"Good. He's getting a bit tired of the rich food Louis keeps bringing him. I think he likes the bland English stuff better."

"There's no accounting for taste." Another knock on the door. "Come."

Corporal Langenscheidt entered, carrying a rolled-up blanket. "Colonel Hogan," he said, "Kommandant Klink asked me to bring you this blanket. He says all mattresses must be covered." Hogan knitted his brow. "He says he is sure it is in the Geneva Convention."

Hogan and Kinch exchanged looks, and Hogan nodded toward the German. "Thanks, Langenscheidt," he said. He stood up to accept the bundle, grimacing as he straightened his left leg. "I'm not as young as I used to be," he said in response to the Corporal's look of concern.

"None of us are," Langenscheidt replied.

The Colonel and the young guard locked eyes for a moment, speaking without words. Not taking his eyes off the Corporal, Hogan said finally, "Kinch, can you please get me some water?"

"Sure, Colonel," Kinch replied, and, not quite sure what was transpiring between the two men, he left the room.

"You are still unwell, Colonel Hogan," Langenscheidt surmised when they were alone.

"Getting better, Langenscheidt," Hogan answered. "Just need a little help once in awhile."

"We all do," the guard agreed.

Hogan nodded, then said quietly, "I guess that's why God sometimes sends us angels."

Langenscheidt's eyes brightened, and a gentle smile touched his lips. "Ja, Herr Oberst. I think that is why."

Kinch came back into the room and handed Hogan the cup of water. "Here you go, Colonel," he said. He looked from one man to the other, certain that he had missed something important, but not sure what it was. "Aspirin, Colonel?"

Hogan continued looking at Langenscheidt for a moment, then finally shook his head. "Those pills from the hospital are still on my desk, Kinch. I'll take them." Kinch raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Hogan turned back to the guard and smiled softly. "Sometimes you just have to accept the gifts you're given."