Author's note: While I do appreciate constructive criticism regarding my stories, I would appreciate it if everybody would kindly lay off the beefs about lack of accuracy regarding history and military correctness. This was not an entirely correct, or accurate show, and as such, you can't exactly expect a fan fiction story to be completely accurate as well. Other than that, please enjoy this story.
Some would feel that quite often, time spent in a POW camp could actually be quite a hoot, but from time to time, things could get quite monotonous, and down right boring. For the past few days or so, Hogan and his men had been going through a bit of a lull in their operation. Airmen who had been shot down were making their way through other POW camps through-out Germany, meanwhile London and the Underground hadn't had much use for Stalag 13 during these times. Hogan laid across his upper bunk, flipping through a book, exhaling slowly, and loudly. He checked his watch again. Only three seconds had passed since he last looked at it, but it felt more like three hours. Hogan bookmarked his place, and decided to head down into the tunnel again, to see if maybe now they heard anything from London. Down in the laboratory, Carter was keeping himself busy, mixing together a few chemicals he had going in some of his test tubes, into a large beaker. Seconds later, Hogan made his way through the tunnel, into Carter's lab.
"How's it going, Carter?" Hogan asked.
"Oh, pretty good..." Carter said, as he began to drink from his beaker.
"Carter?" Hogan began, a little surprised. "What are you drinking?!"
After a big gulp, Carter let out a satisfying sigh. "Hot chocolate!"
"Hot chocolate?!" Hogan asked, in confusion.
"Yep," Carter said, "I like to make hot chocolate in test tubes, makes it feel more scientific!"
Hogan slowly shook his head, "you really know how to live, kid."
"Thanks!" Carter said, with a smile, obviously not picking up on Hogan's sarcasm.
Hogan rolled his eyes. "Where's Baker?"
"Oh, he fell asleep about half an hour ago..." Carter said, as he sipped a sample of his scientific coffee.
"Any word from London?" Hogan asked.
"I wouldn't know, I've been in here all this time..." Carter said.
"Alright," Hogan said, "carry on..."
"Wanna sip of scientific tea?" Carter asked.
"No thanks, I'm allergic to bunsen burners." Hogan said sarcastically, while Carter nodded, before looking confused at Hogan's comment.
In the communication center, Baker was asleep on the stand-by cot. Hogan walked through, and found Baker, so he knealt down, and began shaking Baker's shoulder.
"Hey, Baker?" Hogan asked, waking his radio man.
"Hmm?" Baker grunted, slowly opening his eyes. "Colonel? Oh, what time is it?"
"16:32" Hogan said, looking at his watch. "Any word from London?"
"Yeah," Baker sat up, wiping his eyes, "that flight crew made it back alright, the Gestapo searched all over Stalag 16 for them, but luckily they didn't find them."
"Yeah, we've had some close calls like that ourselves." Hogan said. "Anything else?"
"Not a thing." Baker said.
"Alright," Hogan said, as he stood up straight, "keep an ear open, though, you never know what could happen in a few minutes..."
"Right." Baker said, as he stretched, and made his way back to the radio.
Later that evening, up in the barrack, all the prisoners were trying to keep themselves entertained. Baker sat on his bunk, reading, LeBeau was busy cooking dinner, while Newkirk and Carter played poker.
"Oh, blimey," Newkirk groaned, "this bloke's getting too good for me... I fold."
"You're folding?" Carter asked.
"It's all your's, mate." Newkirk said, pushing the pile of chips towards Carter.
"And I didn't even have anything!" Carter said, as he scooped up the chips.
"You didn't have anything?!" Newkirk asked. "You didn't even have a pair, or a straight?"
"Nope." Carter said.
"I threw away two ruddy kings! Who in bloody hell taught you how to play poker?!" Newkirk asked, growing angry.
"You did!" Carter reminded him.
Newkirk brought his face to his hand, as he leaned over the table, in frustration. "Andrew, I never liked you."
"You know, lots of people say that," Carter said, "next you know, they end up getting married."
Newkirk cringed, as Carter laughed at his own joke. "I wouldn't marry you, Andrew, for five pounds..."
"Can't you two keep it down?" LeBeau asked, sounding annoyed.
"When's dinner, anyway, LeBeau? I'm famished!" Newkirk said, tapping the handle of his fork on the table.
"Just be patient," LeBeau said, as he stirred the contents of his little pot, "it'll be ready soon enough."
"What's for chow tonight?" Carter asked.
"Potato soup." LeBeau said, rolling his eyes.
"Again with the potato soup?!" Newkirk asked. "Louie, the Geneva Convention prevents the killing of our tastebuds, this is the fourth night straight we've had to eat potato soup!"
"Will you stop complaining? I told you my green grocer made a mistake, I ended up with five sacks of potatoes." LeBeau reminded them. "I might as well put them to use, before they go bad."
"I lost me appetite..." Newkirk said, tossing his fork across the room. "I'm sick of potato soup!"
"Then go out into the dog pin, and eat with them, tonight!" LeBeau snapped.
"I think I just might do that!" Newkirk said.
"Go ahead, I'm not stopping you!" LeBeau said.
"No, you're just stopping me stomach, with all of this bloody potato soup!" Newkirk said.
"Well, maybe you could pull K.P. and peel them instead." Carter suggested.
"You keep out of this!" Both LeBeau and Newkirk said.
"Come on fellahs," Baker said, breaking away from his book, "knock it off..."
"And just who asked for your input?!" Newkirk asked.
"Look..." Baker said, putting his book down.
Within a few seconds, Baker had made his way over to the commotion between LeBeau and Newkirk, which escalated the arguement even more. All the while, Carter sat at the table, darting his head back and forth between whoever was yelling at who, smirking the entire time, not having seen a good fight in camp in a long time. After a while, Carter couldn't help but giggle slightly, as the arguement was reduced to nothing more than a name game.
"And just what is so funny, Gigglepus?!" Newkirk asked, seeing Carter laughing.
"Me? Nothing!" Carter said, not wanting to be dragged into the arguement.
By then it was too late, Newkirk began chewing Carter out, all the while, both LeBeau and Baker came to his defense. Finally, the door to Hogan's office flew open, and he stepped into the room.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Hogan yelled. "What's all the commotion out here?!"
The others all proceeded to babble to Hogan over the matter, all at once, and he couldn't understand a word they were saying.
"Okay, hold it..." Hogan began. "Hold it!!!"
The room went silent, as Hogan strolled over to the table, bringing his foot up on the bench, while resting his elbow on his knee, and his chin on his fist.
"It's obvious our lull is making us all crazy around here lately..." Hogan said.
"Well, certainly not me," LeBeau began, "but..."
"Oh, look who's talking..." Newkirk said.
"Alright! Let's not start that again..." Hogan said, "business is slow lately, and we've got nothing to do during the day, so naturally, we're taking our frustration out on each other... we need to change that."
"Well, what can we do, sir?" Newkirk asked.
"How should I know?" Hogan asked, as he stood up. "At least I have something to do..." Hogan walked towards the door. "I promised Hilda I'd spend some quality time with her this evening." Hogan smirked. "Gentlemen."
Hogan left the barrack, and as soon as he did, the arguements between everybody resumed.
"Wipe that stupid smile off your face, Andrew!" Newkirk said.
"I'm not smiling, I'm serious!" Carter said.
"Lay off him, Newkirk..." Baker began, before the arguement escalated again.
All the while, Schultz was pacing out on the porch of Klink's quarters, on guard, as Hogan walked up.
"Hi, Schultz." Hogan said, casually.
"Halt!" Schultz said. "Who goes there?"
"Joe Stalin." Hogan said.
"Heh, jolly joker..." Schultz mumbled. "The Kommandant must not be disturbed, Colonel Hogan, he is having problems with General Burkhalter."
"Oh? Are those two an item, now?" Hogan asked, jokingly.
"I know nothing!" Schultz said.
Hogan watched as the door to Klink's quarters slowly opened up, as Hilda poked her head out the door. She winked at Hogan, and darted her head to the side, indicating for Hogan to meet her around the side. Hogan smiled and nodded, not going unnoticed by Schultz, who turned around to see who he was nodding to, only to be met with a closed door, as Hilda managed to shut it, just before Schultz turned around. Schultz then turns his attention back on Hogan.
"What are you nodding at, Colonel Hogan?" Schultz asked.
"You mean you forgot?" Hogan asked.
"Forgot what?" Schultz asked.
"I have a nervous condition," Hogan lied, "sometimes my head nods, involuntarily."
"Oh, you poor thing," Schultz said, sympathetically, "perhaps you should see a doctor about that."
"I have," Hogan continued to lie, "he said if I just keep off my head for a couple of weeks, I'll only have to put liquids in it."
"I see." Schultz said, as he went back to his guard.
Hogan slowly walked off, but Schultz stopped him.
"Uh, Colonel Hogan? Where do you think you are going? You know prisoners are not allowed out of the barracks at night."
"Schultz?" Hogan asked. "How would you like to make a few chocolate bars?"
"Yeah?" Schultz asked, with a smile.
Hogan looked over his shoulder, before pulling about four chocolate bars from his coat pocket. "Think of it as hush money."
"Oh, I cannot soil my hands to a bribe, Colonel Hogan." Schultz said, turning his head.
"Double or nothing?" Hogan asked.
"You got a deal." Schultz said, as he happily took eight bars of chocolate from Hogan, before he walked around the picket fence, bordering the side of Klink's quarters, where he casually made his way to the door, where Hilda was waiting for him inside.
Inside Klink's office, the Kommandant was terribly upset, while Burkhalter was yelling at him, over the phone.
"But herr General, I assure you that I am running a very tight ship here at Stagag 13!" Klink said. "Yes, General Burkhalter... no, General Burkhalter... I don't know, General Burkhalter... yes, General Burkhalter... I apologize, General Burkhalter... yes, General Burkhalter, goodbye, General Burkhalter... what, General Burkhalter? Oh yes, yes... heil Hilter... General Burkhalter..."
Klink hung up his phone, and sunk back down into his seat, sighing in relief, as he dropped a couple of pills into his glass of water, waiting for them to fiz, before downing it all in one gulp. He hated it whenever Burkhalter would chew him out over the phone.
"Schultz!" Klink yelled, as his Sergeant of the Guards rushed into his office.
"Jawohl, herr Kommandant!" Schultz said, saluting his commanding officer.
"Schultz... I ask you... do I look like a boob?" Klink asked.
"You? A boob, herr Kommandant?" Schultz asked, trying not to giggle, knowing Burkhalter must have called him a boob over the phone. "Oh, absolutely not, herr Kommandant!"
"Then why must General Burkhalter keep repeating it in my ear?" Klink asked.
"Who is to say?" Schultz asked.
Klink looked up at Schultz, and noticed a brown smudge in the corner of his mouth. "Schultz, what have you been eating?"
"Eating, herr Kommandant?" Schultz asked. "I have not been eating! Why would I eat while I am on duty?"
"Because I know you cannot control your appetite," Klink said, "what is that brown stuff in the corner of your mouth?"
Schultz paused, before he licked the corner of his mouth, realizing he still had chocolate on it. "Uh, I fell down in the mud, herr Kommandant."
"Oh." Klink said, brushing it off. "Schultz, you are the clumiest oaf under my command..."
"Jawohl, herr Kommandant!" Schultz said. "I am the clumiest oaf under your command!"
"You are always tripping over your own feet..." Klink continued.
"Jawohl, herr Kommandant! I am always tripping over my own feet!"
"No wonder General Burkhalter sees so many faults with this prison camp..."
"Jawohl, herr Kommandant! It is all my fault you are stuck with this faulty prison camp!"
That brought Klink out of his misery. "Dis-missed!"
"Jawohl, herr Kommandant! Dis-missed!" Schultz agreed, before realizing that Klink was dismissing him. "Oh, beg your pardon, herr Kommandant..."
Schultz saluted Klink, before stepping out of the office. Back in barrack two, the room was barely recognizable with smudged potatoes all over the place.
"I certainly hope you don't think I should be the one to clean up this ruddy mess!" Newkirk said.
"Oh, don't I?" LeBeau said.
"Get Andrew to clean it up!" Newkirk said.
"Why me?" Carter asked. "I didn't make any of this mess."
"This all some big game to you, isn't it?" Newkirk asked.
"If anyone should clean up this mess, it's you, Newkirk!" LeBeau.
"Alright, fine, you want me to clean up? I'll clean up..." Newkirk said, as he grabbed LeBeau's scarf, and used it to scrape mushed potatoes off of the table, as LeBeau started swearing in French.
"Wait just a minute!" Baker said, snatching Newkirk's cap to wipe off a mess of potatoes off of the floor.
"Oh yeah?" Newkirk said, snatching Baker's cap, and filling it with clumps of mushy potatoes, while Carter did the same thing with his own cap.
"Carter, what are you doing?" Baker asked.
"Helping you guys clean up." Carter said, while the others gave him unusual looks. "I mean, personally, I don't think using our uniforms would work too well, but I guess we're out of towels and such, huh?"
"Oh, blimey..." Newkirk said, as Hogan walked in.
"Ah, nice to see you boys working together again." Hogan said, being met with nothing but silence. "Though I don't understand why you're using your uniforms to clean up this mess here... out of towels and such?"
"Just make sure you don't use any of those spare blanket I managed to get from supply, I had to cough up two hundred cigarettes for those." Hogan said, as he walked into his office, shutting the door behind him.
The others all sighed, and dropped what they were doing.
"How did we get ourselves into this mess?" LeBeau asked.
"Maybe the Colonel's right," Newkirk said, "maybe we are going a little bonkers..."
"The operation has been running slow on this end, lately," Baker said, "and because of that, we've nothing to do."
"Hey, we can keep cleaning up all of these potatoes," Carter suggested, "that's giving us something to do!"
Carter was suddenly met with a scarf, and two hats full of potatoes being thrown at him, for his idiotic comment.