Written purely for pleasure. No money is being made from this and no claim is being made upon anything related to Hogan's Heroes, which is solely owned by its creators.

A one-shot for "fanes", who asked for a Newkirk hurt-comfort story.. This probably wasn't what you weren't expecting, fanes, but this is what the muse kicked out. I hope you enjoy it.

Please forgive the lack of proper technique. This is a stream of consciousness kind of thing that I've never tried before.


The rating is for swearing.

For Want of a Beer

How did I manage this?

I'm in trouble here.

No way around it.

I'm stuck.

Pinned down.

Caught fast.

Going absolutely nowhere.

In a hurry.

In a bloody handbasket with pink ribbons on it.



I am never, ever, going to say 'piece of cake' again in my entire life. Mark my words. Cross my heart so help me and how do I manage to get myself into situations like this and what am I going to do NOW?!?

:: Deep breath::

Calm. Stay calm, Peter. Don't panic.

Pretend that you are not forty feet in the air, standing on a ledge less than a foot wide.

Better. Much better. Calm.

Oh, bloody . . . No one knows where I am!!

Right. Panic now.


This is all London's fault!

Did my duty. Delivered the information like a good fellow. Was spot on time to boot. Piece o' . . .

Saw nothing wrong with taking a wee bit of a detour on my way back to camp. A beer sounded lovely. Deserved it, I say. What with being stuck in camp for days on end, nothing to do but watch the birds peck at the dirt and the barbed wire rust.

Just one beer. One. That was all. And I didn't get to finish it!

Changed my mind. This is Klink's fault for popping in like he did. Of all the times for the twit to show up. I got here first!

Just lucky I saw him before he saw me. The guv'nor wouldn't have been happy if he had.

Come to think of it – the guv'nor isn't going to be happy if I don't get myself off this bleeding ledge and back to camp and how the bloody HELL do I manage to get myself into situations like this!?!

What was that?

That was not a rain drop that just hit my nose.

Yes . . . it was.

Oh, just lovely.

That decides it, then. The fates are ruddy well conspiring against me tonight.

All because I wanted a beer! And I didn't get to finish it!!

Blast Klink, anyway.

He would have seen me if I hadn't knicked upstairs right quick. Thought I had it made only I'd put myself right in his way! Who would have guessed the sod would have a friend staying here? Didn't know he had friends!

All I could do to keep out of sight ahead of him. He just kept coming up behind me like a plodding cow, boots clumping on the stairs. His friend couldn't be in a room on the second floor, could he? Had to be on the third!

Finally got far enough ahead of ol' Iron Pants to open a door with my trusty lockpick and pop inside the room only to find someone in it!

Woke the bloke right up, even quiet as I was. Lucky for me it was a warm enough night he had the window open. Never moved so fast in my life getting out that window before he turned over and got the light on. Probably thought the breeze going by his bed was just a breeze. Hah! A man-made one by the name of Peter Newkirk.

Guess he didn't like the breeze 'cause he shut the bloody window! Ruddy Kraut. Cold-blooded the lot of them.

Far as I can see, no other open windows on this floor.

So here I am. Perched out here on the ledge like a pigeon!

A pigeon that's getting wetter by the minute.

Down is no good. That leaves up.

Hmm. Maybe if I stretch . . . I can reach. . . blasted rain in my eyes . . . making it hard to see . . .

Who was the ruddy Kraut who decided this building would look good with an extended cornice?!??

Cor, now what do I do how --

What was that??

What . . .

No. No. No. No!

The ledge IS NOT cracking!! IT'S BLOODY WELL NOT!!

Oh, mum.


Shoddy German workmanship is going to be the end of me! Splattered on the cobbles like a ripe tomato all for the want of a beer that I DIDN'T GET TO FINISH AND HOW AM I GOING TO GET OUT OF THIS AND . . .


Do that instinct hunch thing you do that creepy knowing and bloody well find me like a good ---

What was that????

I'm hearing things in my last moments. Voices.

Wait. Just one voice? In my last earthly moments, I'm hearing . . .


"What are you doing up there? Wait! No! Tell me later! Stop nattering on and be a good mate and get me out of here!"

'Don't move,' he says. Where the bloody hell does he think I'll go??

"Where are you going, Andrew?"


"CARTER! THIS CRACK ISN'T WAITING!" Bloody hell it's hard shouting in a whisper!

Calm. Stay calm. Don't panic. He'll be right back.



Any second now. Right back. Right --

"Ah, there you are, mate. Johnny on the spot with a rope. What?? I know you're name's not Johnny -- NEVER MIND, Carter, just throw the bloody rope down here before I end up a bloody mess down on the bloody street!"

"Got it!"

Just in time there goes the ledge and don't let go Andrew but don't let me pull you over mate and boy am I needing practice at this rope-climbing but not for awhile since I'm at the top and I'm SAFE!

"Stop looking all worried, mate, I'm fine, thanks to you. That was quite a timely rescue, Andrew, not even the guv'nor could have done better."

"Yeah, of course, I mean it. You were my hero."

"Now, what do you say we get off this roof and you can tell me over a beer how you happened to find me. Yeah, a beer. All this hanging about has made me thirsty!"

Thank you for reading.