Ginger Tea and Trickery - Hogan's Heroes Fanfiction

Chapter 10

"We lost Barnes," Hogan said simply, crossing his arms and leaning against the bunk frame, "He and Garlotti were caught in an air raid."

The room was quiet for a minute. Two minutes. Three.

"Garlotti knows for sure?" Olsen asked softly.

Hogan shook his head, "Not for sure. More than likely. I told him to head back to camp."

It was quiet another moment and Hogan said, "We got Hiedler to England, anyways." He looked around.

Most of them wore expressions of plain, dumb shock.

Carter looked so upset he might have been sick.

Foster was praying.

Baker was watching him, and as soon as they made eye contact his eyes darted away.

The bunk squeaked upwards again, and Newkirk came out, leaning on the bunk frame, "Isn't anybody going to go tell Davis?"

They all looked up, and then Hogan stood. "Yeah. I'll go."

Davis.

Damn, those two were like brothers. Barnes was supposed to meet his kids after the war. Christopher and Tabitha and Emily. Or was Emily the older one? Nevermind.

He climbed down the ladder and nodded to Kinch, "Headed to the cooler."

Maybe it wasn't the longest walk, and his feet weren't the heaviest they'd ever been. Maybe that had been going to tell Mom when he'd volunteered to go over to England, or when he'd gone to sit down and write letters to parents and wives of men and boys who weren't coming home. But it sure felt like it, right then.

He shoved on the block of the cell wall, and when it had gone a few inches he could feel tugging from the other side.

Davis and Larimore gave him a hand climbing up, and when he was standing in front of them Davis asked, "Colonel?"

The next minute he recognized the expression on Hogan's face and froze. "What happened?"

Hogan shrugged, "Garlotti called. They were caught in an air raid."

Davis sat down on the cot and dropped his head into his hands.

"Shit."

Larimore stood still, shocked, and then looked at Colonel Hogan, "Dead?" He asked, as if asking that might make it not so.

Hogan shrugged again, "Garlotti never found a - his - body." He paused to look at Davis. "But it's not very likely."

"Hey?" The call was from the other cell, "What's going on?"

Hogan stepped over to the cell door, where he could see Joseph and Lamb standing by their door, "Garlotti called, from Nijmegen. There was an air raid."

The expressions froze on their faces.

Then Joseph nodded, "How you gonna explain that, sir?"

The thought had occurred to him, although he wasn't entirely sure yet, "I'll think of something." He said.

Lamb spoke up quietly, "Did you get the guy to England?"

"Yeah." Hogan said, "We completed the mission."

Completed the mission, yes.

Succeeded, not anymore.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey," Wilson greeted the Colonel with a nod as Hogan sat down next to him, on the bench just outside the infirmary, "Heard what happened."

"Yeah," Hogan sighed.

Wilson nodded, and didn't say anything for a long while.

"Any family?"

"None that were speaking to him," Hogan sighed.

"Mmm."

"Yeah," Hogan blew out another breath, and asked, "How's Cohen doing?"

Wilson nodded, "He's getting there. Slowly, but that's how it goes when you're a sick and underfed POW in a building that somehow," He sighed, "Calls itself an infirmary, despite lacking heating, decent insulation, proper supplies, medics, I could go on."

"It's World War Two," Hogan shrugged. "World War Two. The Great War got a sequel."

The medic snorted, "War to end all wars, my ass."

Hogan smiled a little at the remark, "Yeah."

"How are you going to explain Barnes' disappearance, sir?"

"We'd already convinced Schultz we were a man shorter than we really were," Hogan said, "To accommodate for a man being in the tunnels guarding Hiedler. Once his file disappears from the office, which won't be hard, and maybe I'll get some alcohol down Klink to convince him he hallucinated the whole thing. No, that's not a bad idea," He paused, "Get Davis and Joseph out of the cooler, too."

"Good idea." Wilson looked past Hogan. "Hi."

Carter came jogging up. "Hi." He turned to the Colonel, "There's a fight on the other side of camp, sir. Kinch is trying to break it up but he's not doing very well."

Hogan scowled and stood up. "Great. We've got enough to deal with without a riot."

Wilson sighed. "If anyone cracks their skull open, send them my way."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, hey, HEY!" Hogan shoved into the middle of the fray, yanking back on shoulders and prying people apart, "Knock it off!"

In a minute or two the fight died, leaving a bunch of men looking like they'd been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Are you joking?" He was mad. To say the least. Of all the times, "We've got the Gestapo breathing down our necks -" Amongst other things "- Now is the worst time to be beating up on each other!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black-uniformed guard inching closer.

"That's exactly what they want," He muttered, hopefully within range of the men but too quiet for the guard, "Scatter. I'll deal with you later." As if. He wouldn't be able to remember half the guys who were and weren't fighting. It was a lost cause. Worse than parenting. I think.

Catching his meaning, they quickly dissipated, leaving only one man limping to a nearby bench, hands hovered protectively over certain extremities.

Hogan eyed him skeptically, "You going to be okay?"

He nodded, flushing a bright red, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Something tells me you won't want to do it again."

He huffed softly in a half-laugh, "Uh-huh."

"Alright." As Hogan walked away, he barely heard a mumbled apology.

Okay.

Really, though? Of all the damn times. Not everybody knew of the mission, but the Stalag could be like a beauty parlor at times and it certainly wasn't hard to miss Hochstetter and his goons skulking about. He didn't care if they were fighting to blow off steam. Blowing off steam could end up getting them killed, if one thing lead to another and another. The whole mess was too delicate to take risks with. He'd written too many letters to families already.

"Sir?" Kinch appeared at Hogan's side, matching his pace, "What're you thinking?"

Hogan looked at him, "Sometimes I miss the days when we were just a measly old Traveler's Aid Society."