Okay, guys, it's me, Tuttle. I've been a slacker lately, what with two stories that I need to update. Sorry. But on the Challenges forum, Hexiva (who apparently is itching for a new story) pointed out that most MASH/Hogan's Heroes crossovers took place in Korea and challenged one of us to come up with a crossover set in WWII. Well, this is my answer to the challenge. I apologize in advance for the lack of research. It's a sort of spur of the moment story.

So, to just get this straight before I start, I don't own MASH and I don't own Hogan's Heroes. The closest I get is having the entire run of each show on DVD. Now that that's out of the way, let's get the ball rolling.

The distinct sounds of battle filled the air- the clatter of gunfire, the high-pitched whistling of bombs and the terrifyingly loud explosions that followed. And, of course, the cries of men, wounded, dying, or just plain scared.

Colonel Sherman T. Potter paid little attention to it. This wasn't his first war and it probably wouldn't be his last- if he survived. Right now, he had to focus on the young man who was laying in front of him on a rickety table, bleeding and groaning in pain.

The building, a house the unit had commandeered, shook and great clouds of dust fell from the ceiling. Potter covered his patient as best he could and when the better part of the dust cleared, he went back to work. "Just take it easy, son," Sherman said softly, taking a moment to grip the young man's shoulder. A moment of tenderness was all he had time for though and after a small smile of reassurance, he went back to work. "Damn this light!" he muttered, although he supposed he could not expect much, what with being in the basement of an old building in the middle of a war zone.

The day had started out innocently enough- if one could consider operating in a tent several miles from the front innocent. Then word had come from a nearby town on the front lines. The Allies were pushing the Germans out, but the casualties were heavy and a surgeon had been requested. Whether it was insanity or bravery or both, Potter had volunteered. Another doctor, much younger than the short, ageing colonel, had laughed at the idea, but it only served to steel Potter's resolve. He wasn't that old and he could certainly handle himself better under the pressure of battle than the young captain.

It didn't take long to realize the report had been a little overly optimistic about the condition. In fact, the Germans were not being pushed out- it was the Allies. A minor setback, someone had told him earlier.

"Sir!" Potter turned his head to see a sergeant rush into the room. "Sir, orders have been sent for a retreat!"

"Retreat? Sufferin' saddle soap! You just came in ten minutes ago and said everything was fine! What in the name Marco blessed Polo happened?!"

"That was five hours ago, sir!"

"Mule muffins! All right, everyone grab a partner and clear out!" Potter barked, gesturing for the medics and the less seriously wounded to help the incapacitated.

"You too sir," the sergeant said when Potter didn't make any move to leave.

"I need five minutes. You go on and skedaddle."

"You don't have five minutes! The Krauts'll be here any second."

"Then you better get going. That's an order, sergeant," Potter ordered sharply. The sergeant hesitated but after the building shook with another close bomb, decided to obey orders and scrambled up the stairs.

It took less than five minutes actually, but by then it was too late. Potter had just slapped a pressure bandage on the kid's stomach when he heard shooting above his head. Shouts filled the air and a moment later there were loud footsteps coming down the stairs.

Potter had been in the cavalry during WWI. Though he was a doctor now, he had killed before and would do it again if he had to. As the sounds grew closer, Potter reached to grab the pistol from the wounded soldier in front of him.

"HALT!" a voice barked. Potter stiffened, his hand hovering over the gun. He briefly wished he was a character out of a Zane Grey novel- with the ability to turn and fire a shot with the speed of lighting. "Hands up."

Potter did so and slowly turned. Three men in German uniforms were behind him, submachine guns pointed right at his chest. "Easy now." He grabbed his collar, showing them his caduceus pin. "Look, doctor. I won't-" He didn't have time to finish as he was grabbed and roughly hauled away.

Colonel Robert E. Hogan looked over the message Sergeant Kinchloe had handed him, something of a scowl crossing his features.

"They do realize that in the past two months, we have blown up five factories, a train station, an airstrip and two bridges, right?"

Kinchloe nodded. "They're aware of that. That's why they gave us this; they know we can do it."

"What's the problem, colonel? It's just one little tank factory!" Sergeant Carter said brightly, probably already thinking of which explosives he was going to use.

"The problem, Andrew, is that now the woods out there are crawling with Krauts!" Corporal Newkirk answered sourly. "Blimey! They need to give us a break every now and then! Not only do we need a ruddy rest but the Krauts need a chance to relax!"

"Agreed," Hogan said darkly. He looked over the message again and let out a little sigh. "All right, here's the plan. Newkirk, Carter, LeBeau, you'll go out tomorrow dressed as a German patrol. According to the underground, there's enough out there that you'll probably won't be noticed if you run into another one."

"Probably," LeBeau groused. "Except we will be carrying explosives!"

"Carter, you think you can whip up something small enough to carry without anyone noticing but big enough to bring down a factory that big?"

"Sure thing, Colonel. I've been working on this new plaster. It's pretty stable but, boy, when you let it off, it just goes-"

"All right, Carter," Hogan interrupted, rubbing his forehead.

"What about you and men, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

Hogan scowled. "I'm staying here. General Burkhalter is coming to camp and if I'm gone, he'll notice. Kinch, they're going to need papers, just in case they're stopped. Identification, orders, you know the drill."

"Right," Kinch said with a little nod. He pushed himself away from his radio and motioned for LeBeau to come help him.

"I need to fix a few tears in those uniforms," Newkirk said after a moment before he too, left.

"Carter, what about your explosives?" Hogan asked when Carter didn't move.

"Ready, sir," Carter informed him. He squirmed slightly before continuing. "You're not really worried, are you, Colonel?"

Hogan paused, debating how he should answer. Of course he was worried. Really worried. Ever since D-Day, London had been putting a push on them to cripple the German war effort even more than before. In the same stroke, the Germans, who now needed their resources more than ever to try and push the Allies back, would be more determined to find Papa Bear and stop all the sabotage. It all had to catch up to them eventually.

"No, not more so than usual, Carter," Hogan finally answered, though he sensed that Carter didn't really believe.

If he didn't, Carter made no mention of it. Instead, he smiled cheerfully. "Good. Don't worry a bit. It'll be a piece of pie!"

"Cake, Carter, cake," Hogan corrected, swearing that by the end of the war, he would get it through Carter's thick skull.

"What?"

"Never mind, Carter. Never mind."