Chapter Three


Klink was busy talking with the architect when Hogan walked through the hole in Klink's office.  He leaned forward, and casually knocked on the charred wall.  "Commandant?"  He said.

"Go away, Hogan, can't you see I'm busy at this moment in time!"

"Too busy to hear our latest requests?"


"Isn't that a bit early for a decision?"

"Hogan," Klink said, turning around and walking over to him, "I went through this rutin with you a nearly a week ago.  Right now, I am in no mode to be made fun of, so before I cut all white bread rasions to you and your men, I suggest you leave!"

"What are you mad at this time," Hogan protested, "You sent Schultz away, didn't you?"

"Yes I did, but General Burkhalter says that I must use my own camps funds to rebuild my office, not to mention to replace everything that was blown up, not to mention all of the paper work that will require.  And as a result, I have to cancel my skying holiday for a second time now!  Ooohhh!"  He stamped his foot in frustration.  "This is all that fat idiot, Schultz's fault!  I hope he's completely miserable, were ever he is!"


Schultz's grin spread from ear, to ear, as the 26 year-old female Quartermaster measured his waistline.  She stood up, and looked at the number she had recorded, and shook her head.  Of to the side, Schmidt snickered.

"Well, baby," Schultz, grinned, puffing up his chest, "Whaddya think?"

"I think I find it hard to believe, Sgt. that anyone could consider you for combat duty, especially here!"

"Well, here I am!"  Schultz said, spreading his arm out in front of him.

"Down, boy," She said, walking into the next room, "I'm not going to live up to that stupid nickname for a fifteenth time!"

"Nickname?  Fifteenth time?"  Schultz asked Schmidt.

"That's Eva Spiegel," Schmidt said, leaning in close to whisper, "But everyone calls her Eva-34, for you know, the Russian T-34 tank." 

"Why's that?"

"Because every boyfriend she's had – all fourteen of them – have all died at the hands of a T-34 tank somehow or other."

"Oh," Schultz said, looking back at the door which Eva had disappeared into.

Schmidt smiled, and leaned closer to Schultz, "however, from what I've heard, she's a really great leg!"  They both snickered.

"I herd that!"  Eva called out, "You'd better not be there when I get back, Schmidt!"

"Uh-oh!"  Schmidt moaned, and quickly vanished.  He waited outside a five minutes, before Eva came out, a disappointing look on her face.

"Uhh, Schmidt," she said, "We have a problem."  Schmidt narrowed his eyes, and walked back into the room.  Schultz stood there, covered in head to toe with warm army clothing.  He wore a padded hat with earflaps under his snow-white helmet; he had a thick woollen scarf wrapped around his neck.  He had the army issued triple padded coat, with the white camo-jacket over that, he wore three pairs of long johns over his camo-pants, with the thickest biggest sized boots, Eva could find.  He was covered in head to toe, with ammunition belts.

"He looks well protected, and equipped," Schmidt said, eyeing him up and down.  "I don't get it, what's the problem?" 

"I can't move!"  Schultz's muffled reply came.


I think you're being completely unfair with Sgt. Schultz, Commandant," Hogan protested.

"Unfair, am I Hogan?"  Klink said.  "With all that's been happening to me, he should consider himself lucky I didn't send him as Private Schultz to the Russian Front." 

"I'm talking about being so unfair, after everything Schultz has done for you."

Klink gave him a long hard stare.  "Hogan, if I do that; then when the war is over, and if the Russian's haven't killed Schultz by then," he brought up his hands, as if strangling an invisible neck, "I will!"

"I'm talking about the deep friendship you have between each other," Hogan said.  Klink reared back.

"Friendship?!"  He cried out.  "Hogan, he almost killed me, trying to do me a favour, if that's because he's my friend, I don't want to know what to think about being his enemy!"

"That's the point, sir," Hogan said, "Schultz tried to do you a favour!  He was only trying to help you, make your life easier, and how do you reward him for it, you send him away!"  Klink held up his forefinger, and thumb, and pinched them together.

"And this is about how much I care, now Hogan, ether request something, or go away!"

"I request you bring back Sgt. Schultz from the Eastern Front."

"Request denied, thankyou Hogan for wasting my time, and have a miserable day, just like me!"  Then, he performed a quick slash like salute, and stormed off back to the architect.

Hogan walked out of the building, his mission hadn't gotten off to a promising start.  Klink was even more enraged about Schultz.  At this present rate, Hogan could probably convince Klink to bring back Schultz to stand before a firing squad.

No, if he was going to get Schultz back he would have to play on Klink's memories AND emotions.  But not right now, when Klink was fuming.  Later would be better.  But time wasn't something on Hogan's side, the longer Schultz stayed at the front, the more chances it gave the Russian's to do him in.

One thing was for sure; it would have to be done fast, and soon.


Carlson paced the floor of the hotel room like a caged animal.  Seconds seemed to drag themselves out like minutes.  He stop to throw his hands into the air, Uhh, he must have been crazy to agree to this plan in the first place.  He glanced at his watch.

3:03 pm.

They said they'd be there by 3:01.  Where the devil were they? 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.  He rushed over to it.  "Doves fly south west for the winter."  He whispered, placing his ear to the door.

"And my what a love view."  Came an answer in a British accent, and he yanked open the door.

"You're late!"  He hissed.  Newkirk rolled his eyes.

"Oh, by two ruddy minutes?  Mates, let's go home, we've lost the war."

"Really?"  Carter said with surprise, "Oh well, it was fun while it lasted," he said turning around, and had not LeBeau grabbed him, he surly would have walked all the way back to camp to get his things.

"Look, we've still got a few more minutes to spear," Kinch said, "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Carlson said, "I must be mad to have agreed to this!"

"Hey, you know your job," LeBeau said, "And we know ours, and ours is more dangerous than yours, now quit your whining!"

"Hochstetter has just turned up at the rail station," Kinch said, looking out the window.

"Right," Newkirk said, heading for the door, "Let's get this cat and mouse game started."  They all headed for the door.


Major Hochstetter was not is the best of moods.  Someone had slashed all four of his tiers; most likely a prisoner, and he had an escaped scientist to capture.  But on a more positive note, he was finally going to get rid of Hogan.  If he even had his way, he might be able to send Klink to the Russian Front too.

First, they had to find the scientist.  They would search the train station first, before heading to the hotel.  Carlson could have very well just left, and if that had happened, Hochstetter was ready to call the next station and have him picked up.

Hochstetter's men covered all exits, and entrances, making sure they all had pictures of Carlson, as they flashed them around to passengers, and station staff.  After much searching, it was becoming obvious, that Carlson hadn't yet caught a train.

That meant he was still here, in the hotel.  "You two," Hochstetter said, to 2 'SS' men, as he left the station, "Come with me!"  They exited the station entrance, and started to cross the road.

Just then, from around the corner of the hotel, a man in a dark brown trench coat, wearing a light grey hat, and carrying a worn travel case stepped out.  He had his head down, but looked up as he went to cross the street.

Hochstetter did a double take.  It was Carlson.  Carlson also spotted Hochstetter, and froze.  "There he is!"  Hochstetter snarled to his men, "Halt!"  Hochstetter yelled out.  Carlson took two steps backward, and turned about and ran.

"I'll stop him, Herr Major," an SS man said, rasing his machine gun.

"No, you fool!"  Hochstetter said, pushing it back down, "We need him alive!"  He then turned around and pointed back at the feeling Carlson, "After him!"  Then they took of after Carlson.

Carlson ran around the corner of the building, and straight back into the hotel.  Before entering the building, he waved twice, to the man down the street, who waved back, then started running.

Hochstetter and his goons barrelled around the corner, and looked about.  "There he goes, Herr Major!"  One of the men shouted, pointing down the street.  A man in a dark brown trench coat, wearing a light grey hat, and clutching a worn travel case to his chest was running away, at least a kilometre ahead of them Hochstetter could only gape.

"How did he run so fast?"  He asked, "Come on, we can't let him get away!"  From inside the hotel entrance door, Carlson breathed a sigh of relief.  We went through the hotel to the back entrance, were a car was waiting for him, just as Hogan said it would.

"Professor Carlson?"  A man with a machine gun asked.  Carlson nodded.

"You must be the underground?"  The machine gun man nodded.

"Come," He said, opening a door, "We'll take you to France, and from there on, to England."  Carlson breathed a sigh of relief.  Everything had gone just like Hogan had said it would.  He could only pray everything would go according to plan for Hogan's men.


Kinch ran as fast as he could down the street, with Hochstetter fast on his heels.  Although he was a natural athlete, and could keep well ahead of them, it wasn't easy, running on icy streets, in a trench coat, and carrying a suitcase.   Carlson had gone along with the plan, and now, his part was over, and he was out of danger.  The rest was up to him, Carter, Lebeau, and Newkirk.

He ran until he felt like he was out of breathe, and finally, he saw it.  The next street he was supposed to take.  He quickly turned the corner, and ran into an ally.  There he leaned against the wall, and tried to catch his breath.

Hochstetter and his men were puffed, as they rounded the next street which Carlson had ran down.

"Major, I'm -- tired," one of the SS men complained.

"If we are tired -- Carlson must be -- too," Hochstetter puffed, "He's just a --- civilian --- not trained soldiers like us --- we'll get him for sure!"

They rounded the corner, and looked around.

"What!?!"  Further on down the street, running faster than Hochstetter, was Carlson.  He had the same hat, trench coat, and worn suitcase.  He was still a kilometre ahead of them, and sprinting like a marathon runner.


"No rest for --- the weary!"  Hochstetter puffed, "Come one!"  Then stumbled down the road after Carlson.

Ahead of them, Newkirk ran.  He wasn't as fit as Kinch, but it was important that Kinch went first, to get that extra lead on Hochstetter while he was still fit to run.  Timing was important for this mission; he just barely had two minutes to meet up with Carter, who would take the next step.

But their main goal was succeeding; they were leading Hochstetter away from Carlson, and towards their true destination.  After much running, he reached his destination, the bridge over the river.  He quickly ran into an ally, and waited.

Hochstetter was stumbling when he got to the bridge.  He braced himself on his knees with his hands, as he tried to catch his breath.  The SS men were puffing too.  Hochstetter looked up as he gasped for breath --- and saw Carlson on the other side of the bridge, running away.

Hochstetter rolled his eyes, and waved his tired men on.

Carter ran as best as he could.  It wouldn't be long now, he'd meet up with LeBeau, and he would finish the job.  He looked over his shoulder to see if he was still being followed.  Sure enough, Hochstetter was somehow managing to keep up.  Good, he didn't want to lose him, not just yet.

He saw his marker, the 'T' junction, and stopped.  He looked behind him, to make sure that the Major saw which way he went.  He looked right, then left, then right again, and headed left, checking that Hochstetter saw his choice too.

"This – man – is – incredible --!"  Hochstetter puffed, as he struggled to keep running.  He saw Carlson reach the 'T' junction, and look around, and then he decided to head left.  "Come – on --!"  He gasped to his men, as they trumped around the corner.

Ahead of them, not far down the street, they saw the top half of Carlson, climbing down a sewer hole.  He looked up and saw them, then grabbing his suitcase, jumped down into the sewer.  "Why – won't – he – just – giveup --?"  Hochstetter groaned.

From the shadows of the doorway, Carter watched as Hochstetter and his men climbed down the manhole into the sewers below.  Perfect.  Everything had gone according to plan.  He then started walking back the way he came; he'd have to meet up with Kinch and Newkrik, so they could get LeBeau, and finally, go home.


LeBeau made sure that Hochstetter spotted him, before climbing down into the sewers.  As he dropped down, he flashed his torch over on the very small pipe, on the far wall.  There it was.  He was just small enough to climb inside, and inch his way through to their rondayvo point.

He heard sounds from up above the manhole, and dived into the sewer pipe, and started inching his way through.  Hochstetter and his men would have been so tired from that long run, they wouldn't have noticed that Carlson looked a bit shorter than he normally did.

Hochstetter was so tired, he nearly lost his grip on the icy ladder, climbing down.  Once down, he took some time out to catch his breath.

"Where is – he?"  He puffed, looking around.  There were two pipes in the room.  A small one of the left, and a larger one on the right.

"Which one – is he – in, major?"  An SS man gasped.

"That one," Hochstetter panted out, pointing to the lager pipe.  "The other – is too small – for him," He stumbled over to the pipe, 'Come one!"  Then, one after the other, they all crawled through the pipe.


LeBeau was the last one to the rondayvo point, where the others were waiting for him.

"How did it go?"  Kinch asked.  LeBeau smiled.

"Just like the Colonel said it would," he replied, "Hochstetter and his goons are about to find out there's something much worse down in the sewers than rats."

They all laughed out loud, and started to walk back to camp.


Hochstetter grumbled as he crawled along the sewer pipe.  He just kept his mind concentrated on all the nasty things he was going to do to Hogan, when he got back to camp.  That will be well worth what he was going through right about now.

"What's that smell?"  The SS man at the back asked.

"We're in a sewer," Hochstetter snarled back to him, "What did you expect?"  They continued crawling.

"Do you here that?"  The SS man in the middle asked.

"Here what?"  Hochstetter asked.

"That sound," the SS man said, "sounds like, like, rumbling?"  Hochstetter stopped and looked back at the SS man, then looked down at the pipe.  He could feel something, a vibration of some sort.  He looked around; the whole pipe was beginning to vibrate.

"I have a bad feeling about this," the SS man at the back said.  Hochstetter looked straight ahead.  Now he could here that rumbling sound.

"It's getting louder," the middle SS man said.  Hochstetter's eyes suddenly widened.

"Go back!  Go back!"  He screamed.  They all started to crawl in reverse; just as a tidal wave of brown water, came gushing down the pipe, and swept them all away.  They were carried along by the torrent, and finally, forced out the sewer gate with a wall of water, and fell, forty feet, into the river below.

Hochstetter screamed as he plunged head long into the water.  All three of them, broke the surface of the river at the same time, and coughed out the water.

"Disgusting!"  He spluttered.

"Major," one of the SS men asked,

"What?"  Hochstetter coughed.

"What's that smell?"   Hochstetter sniffed the air, he could smell it too.  Slowly, they all turned around, and saw the huge rusty sign.  'SEWER TREATMENT PLANT'


The boys were still laughing when they got back to camp, as they climbed out of the tunnel, and into the barracks, they saw Colonel Hogan sitting at the table, waiting for them.

"How did it go?"  Hogan asked.

"Like clockwork, sir," Newkirk replied, "And right about now, I believe Hochstetter is bathing in the town's sewer water."

"Yeah," Carter said, holding up his knife again, "I even managed to slash Hochstetter's tiers again."

"How did your end of the mission go, Col?"  Kinch asked.  Hogan shook his head. 

"Not so good."  He replied.  "Klink's in a worse mood than ever."

"I take it, Schultz isn't coming home anytime soon, then?"  Carter asked.

"So, what are we going to do then?"  LeBeau asked.  Hogan thought for a moment.

"Word going around is that Klink will be getting us to rebuild his office."

"So?"  Newkirk asked.

"So, we're going to make Klink miss his lovable Sgt. Schultz, by playing on both emotions and memories."

"So what do we do?"  Carter asked.

"Gather round, men," Hogan said, "We are about to enter the soap opera currit


Sgt. Schmidt was becoming more and more annoyed with Schultz, with every passing minute.  The man was so fat, he couldn't even walk through the snow, and he had to do some sort of slow waddle.  On the bright side, he'd be the perfect target for a sniper, and with a target that big, you could hit him without a scope.

Schultz had been posted with Schmidt on a heavy machinegun squad.  The other man with them, as a Corporal, Gunther Gruver, he was waiting for them with the army unit they were attached to.  Schmidt's job was to give Schultz some combat experience before they gave him a heavy machinegun squad of his own to command.

Experience?  Hah!  He would be lucky if Schultz didn't get him killed.  He swore under his breath.  What in the name of the Fuhrer did he do to deserve this?

"Slow down!"  Schultz called out to him, "I can't keep up in this snow!"

"Keep your voice down, Schultz," Schmidt snapped back at him, "Unless you want a sniper to lower it for you, permanently!"  Schultz's eyes widened and he froze on the spot.  Schmidt swore loudly this time, "God in heaven, not again!"  He didn't care if a sniper heard him or not, they could come and put him out of his misery.

He trudged back over to Schultz, and pulled at his arm. 

"S-s-s-s-snipers?"  Schultz stammered.

"Yes," Schmidt said, "And if you don't hurry, they'll pick us of for sure!"  That got Schultz moving.  It took them about an hour to reach the front line camp, in a trip that should have only taken twenty minutes.  Schmidt was red with anger by the time they got there.  To make matters worse, Colonel Fritz Arenwald was not pleased.

"You were due here, forty minutes ago," the Colonel in charge snapped.

"Yes Colonel," Schmidt moaned.

"For that, you will not be having any white bread with your dinner tonight."

"Yes Colonel," Schmidt groaned, sneaking a deadly look at Schultz, who was still stumbling to catch up with him.

"See that it never happens again!"

"Yes Colonel," Schmidt moaned.  Then he left, leaving Schmidt alone.

"What was he so mad about?"  Schultz asked, as he finally caught up with Schmidt.  Schmidt shook with anger.  He turned around slowly to face Schultz, a forced smile on his face.

*Be nice, be nice* he told himself *That fat oaf could very well end up taking a bullet that could very well be meant for you*

"Nothing, Schultz!"  He said through his clenched teeth.  Then grabbing him roughly by the collar, he dragged him over to a tall skinny man with brown hair, and a full beard growth on his face.  The man was sitting on a snow covered ammunition box, busy smoking, when Schmidt walked over to him with Schultz still in his grasp.

"What is that?"  The man cried out in alarm when he saw Schultz stumbling behind Schmidt.

"Corporal Gruver," Schmidt said through his teeth, "Meet Sgt. Schultz!" 

Schultz waved the fingers on his right hand at Gruver.  "Hi!"  He said.  Gruver's jaw dropped open, and the cigarette fell from his lips to the snow below.

"God in Heaven," he muttered, "I'm going to die!"


All the men of the Stalag 13 stood at attention, as Klink marched up to them, cane under his arm, and a monachal perched on his eye. 

"As you know, Sgt. Schultz blew up my office," a few snickers echoed among the soldiers.  "However, General Burkhalter has told me, that labour needed to rebuild my office will have to come from the prisoners, so, as of now, you are all working for me, rebuilding my office!"

"The Geneva Convention prohibits the use of forced Labour, Commandant," Hogan called out, "Unless the workers are paid for their services."

Klink marched up to Hogan, and looked him square in the eyes.  "Hogan, if you quote one more line from the Geneva Convention, I'm going to find a copy, and shove it down your throat!"  He swung his fist at the air.  He turned back to the rest of the prisoners, "As for the rest of you, you will be divided up into four shifts, shift one will start work right away, shift two will take over from them in another four hours, and so and, so on, until Shift four will finish for the day.  Diiiiis-missssed!"  He saluted, and marched off.

Hogan was not part of Shift one, so he decided to follow Klink.  He walked up to him, and tapped him on the shoulders.

"Hogan?"  Klink snapped spinning around, "Leave me alone!  I'm not in the mode for one of your childish games!"

"Commandant," Hogan said, "I just want to talk, that's all."

"Talk, or insult?"  Klink scoffed.

"I just want to know why you are so upset?  After all, you problems are my problems, too."

"It's my trip, Hogan," Klink said, throwing up his arms, "I love skiing, I love doing nothing but relaxing, and with the war on, I just want to get out of the office, and do something I enjoy!"

"Then why don't you ask for a transfer to the Russian Front?"

"I love skiing, not skiing and dodging bullets at the same time Hogan!"

"And is that any reason to take it out on Schultz?"

"Not this again, Hogan, if you came here to ask for Schultz's return, forget it, that fat oaf stays were he is!"

"I still find it hard to believe you would sent Schultz away like that, after everything he means to you."

"He means nothing to me, Hogan,"

"I don't believe it, after everything I've seen you two go through together."

"Like what?"

"Who was with you on your trip to Paris that time?"  A hand went up to Klink's forehead.

"Oh please, Hogan, I don't need to be reminded of that disaster," his eyes widened, "Or that Russian woman again!"

"Speaking of Marya, who was always there to protect you, when she was around, huh?"


"That's right, Commandant, Schultz was there, when no one else was!"

"Hogan, if you are trying to play on my emotions to get me to bring Schultz back, it isn't working."

"I'm not, Commandant, I'm just reminding you, everything Schultz has done for you!  What did he get you for your birthday, three weeks ago?"

"My new wrist watch, of cause," Klink said, showing it of to Hogan.

"And what did you get him for his birthday."

"A very funny birthday card," Klink said with a chuckle, "Oh, Hogan, you should have seen it, it had this picture of FDR on it and he was saying…"

"I get the picture," Hogan said, "Commandant, Schultz got you a watch, and you gave him one lousy card?"


"So, where's the thought in that?  After Schultz has done so much for you, and you've treated him like yesterdays garbage."

"That's because he is yesterdays garbage, Hogan."

"I can't believe you, Colonel Klink," Hogan said, "He gave you a watch, and you gave him a piece of cardboard with paint on it!  You know, Schultz was terribly upset about that!"  Then he turned around and walked off.

Klink stuck out his tongue after Hogan.  Hmph!  What did he know!  Klink turned around to continue with his walk.  Hogan, that ingrate, how dear he make fun of his gifts.  A lousy piece of cardboard with paint on it!?  Schultz had given him a watch.  The card had a very good joke on it.  A watch that was really expensive.  He thought it was a very good joke.

Klink paused in his tracks.  He pulled back his sleave, and look at the watch on his wrist, the watch Schultz had given him.  That was very kind, and decent of him, after everything he'd done to him.

Klink shook his head.  Hogan was trying to trick him.  Like he always did.  He wouldn't fall for it again.  He started walking back towards his own private quarters. 

Still, it was a nice watch.

From the shadows of the barracks corner, Hogan watched Klink.  He smiled, and nodded his head.


The heavy machinegun unit was situated under the overhanding branches of a tree, sheltering them from the falling snow, and giving them excellent cover.  Corporal Gruver, and Sgt. Schmidt were keeping a watchful eye out for enemy troops. 

"The attack will be coming soon," Gruver muttered, keeping his eyes forward the whole time, "I can here the machineguns!"

"That's not the machineguns of the Russians," Schmidt said, looking over his shoulder, "That's Schultz's teeth!"  Gruver turned around, to see Schultz beside the ammunition box, with his arms around his legs, his teeth chattering from the cold.

"I'm going to die," Gruver said turned back to the front.

"Not necessarily," Schmidt said with a smile.

"How so?"  Gruver asked.

"Well, if he freezes up like that, when can use him as cover."  Gruver smiled.

"That's the best idea I've heard yet!"  Just then the radio squawked.  Schmidt picked it up.

"Ja?"  He asked.  He nodded, and said his thanks, before hanging the phone up.

"What's up?"  Gruver asked.

"The Russians are on the move, they'll be here any minute now!"  Schmidt then turned around.  "Schultz?"  There was no reply.  "Schultz!"  Schultz looked over at him.

"Hmm?"  He asked.

"The Russians are coming, get ready to fight!"

"F-f-f-fight!?"  He stammered.

"Yes," Schmidt said annoyed, "You're going to see some action, and you're finally going to spill some blood!"

"B-b-b-b-b--!"  Schultz stammered, before his eyes rolled up in his head, and he fainted and fell over.

"Schultz!"  Schmidt shouted.  Bullets suddenly kicked up snow all around their concealed position.  Gruver squizzed the trigger, and the heavy machine began to bark, spitting fire, and bullets at the enemy.

"You've given away our position!"  Gruver snapped, swinging the muzzle of the gun this way and that.  Schmidt went to say something, but no words came out, suddenly, he lunged at Schultz, and started strangling him.  "Hey," Gruver called out, "Stop that!"

"I don't care if I get put before a firing squad!"  Schmidt yelled back, "I'm going to kill that fat Dumkopf right now!"

"No time for that!"  Gruver shouted, "The Russians are massing in this area, we have to pull back!"

"But the Colonel will kill us if we abandon our position here!"

"Would you rather him, or the Russians?"

"Point taken, let's get outta here!"

"What about Schultz?"

"What about him?"

"We just can't leave a fellow officer here, we'll be court-martialled, then hanged!" 

"Okay, but we'll have to leave the radio, and heavy machinegun behind, if we want to take Schultz."  They each grabbed one leg, and began hauling him away. 


Hogan was nailing up a plank that was to become part of the new wall, when Klink walked in.

"Ahh, I see it's coming along nicely!"  He said, clapping his hands together. 

"Colonel Klink," Hogan said, "I must protest that…"

"Hogan," Klink said, "I know where I can find a nice big, fat copy of the Geneva Convention, and I know exactly were I'm going to stick it!"

"Fine," Hogan said, then turning around, looked at Klink's wrist, "Nice watch."  He said.

"Why thankyou, Hogan," Klink said, admiring it, "It was given to me by Sergeant… Sgt. Schultz stays at the Russian front, and that's final!"  Klink snapped.  "Now please, stop pestering me about Schultz!"

"Sure, can you imagine what it's like out there, poor Schultz is freezing his moustache of, while you're enjoying a nice warm glass of milk with heated blankets, and…"

"Hogan, I'm on to you and your mind games, so stop it!"

"Or else what?"  Hogan said.  "You'll send me to the Russian front?"  Klink waved a finger inches before Hogan's nose.

"Don't tempt me!"

"Fine," Hogan said, turning back to the wall, "But tell me this Commandant, who was the one who always brought you your glass of warm milk before bedtime?"

"Hogan, one more word out of you, and I will send you to the Russian Front, and you can warm your poor Sgt. Schultz up with a copy of the Geneva Convention!"


The Colonel paced up and down in front of Schmidt, Gruver, and Schultz.  Schultz stood in the middle, he looked like a wreck, his clothes were torn, his face had a few cuts and scratches, from were Gruver and Schmidt had dragged him across the rocky plane for revenge.

"That act of cowerdness cost us the battle, and four kilometres!"  He snapped.  He stopped in front of Schultz.  "Sgt. Are you all right?"  He asked.

"I feel tired," Schultz muttered.  The Colonel clamped both his hands on Schultz's shoulders.

"You look like you've been through a lot, Sgt. While these two look like new recruits!"  Both Gruver and Schmidt's eyes widened.

"But, Colonel…"

"Ach-tong!"  He snapped, and they stood up straight.  "Not only have you disgraced your uniform, but you also lost the heavy machine gun, and the radio pack!  Might I remind you, that this section is not always the first to receive new equipment!"

"Yes, Herr Colonel, but…"

"Ach-tong!"  He snapped, and they stood up straight.  "Sgt. Schultz has proven himself a hero in combat, despite his outward appearance," Both Schmidt, and Gruver's jaws dropped.  "Schultz, report at once to my tent, you can have dinner with me tonight," Schultz stumbled off, "And as for you two, you are hear by demoted to Corporal," he said to Schmidt, "and you, corporal, are now a private!"  Gruver's face wrinkled.

Then, he spun around, and left them alone.

"Let's kill him!"  Gruver snarled, slamming his fist into his open palm, and walking after Schultz.

"Wait," Schmidt said, grabbing a hold of his left arm, "If we kill him now, the Colonel will suspect us!"

"Then what do you have us do, then?"

"Wait until we are in combat again, and tell the Colonel he died a hero!"  Gruver grinned.


Klink kicked of his slippers, and slid happily into his nice warm bed sheets.  He turned on his night lamp, and picked up his favourite book.  The knock at the door heralded the arrival of his milk.

"Here you go, Herr Commandant!"  The corporal said, handing him the glass on a tray.  "Your warm milk!"

"Thankyou, Jager," Klink said as he took the glass, and drank from it.  "Oww," he cried out, placing the glass on his bedside table, "That's too hot!"

"Oh, my apologise, Herr Commandant," Jager said, "I'll get another glass for you."  Jager returned a few minutes later.

"Uggh," Klink groaned, as he tasted that glass, "It's too cold!"

"Oh, my apologise again, Herr Commandant," Jager said, "I'll get another glass for you."

"Forget it!"  Klink said, "Just go back to your post."  Jager saluted, and left.  Klink moaned, great, no warm milk; he was going to have a miserable night!  Ohh, if only Schultz were here, he always made the perfect glass of warm milk, that just sat right when you were drifting of to sleep, and…

Klink made a sour face.

"This is all Hogan's fault!"  Klink hissed, "Him and his stupid mind games, he's got me thinking about nothing else but Schultz!"

Schultz was always there for him.  And he sent him away.

Klink swatted the air in front of him, and tried in vain to get to sleep.


Hogan was awoken by a knock at the door.

"Come in," he moaned groggily.  A man in a German uniform, with Corporal's stripes entered.

"Colonel, Hogan?" the guard said, "Colonel Klink wasn't to see you in his office, right away.

"Sure thing Schultz," Hogan muttered.

"My name is Jager, not Schultz," the man replied.

"Sorry," Hogan said, getting up. 

Klink's office was half finished, the walls had been replaced, and the rafter's for the roof were being installed.  Inside, was a brand new desk, radio, phone, picture of the Fuhrer, and record player.  Black plastic substituted as the new roof.

"You wanted to se me…"  Hogan dropped off.

Klink was a wreck.  His hair was all mattered, he had the five o'clock shadows, and his top button was undone.  "Look what you've done to me, Hogan," Klink said, "I couldn't get to sleep last night, and it's all because of you!"

"Me?"  Hogan questioned, what did I do?"

"You and your mind games," Klink snapped, "You got me so worked up about Sgt. Schultz, I couldn't get to sleep, all I could think about was my dear friend Schultz…"  Klink paused.  Had he just said that?

"Your dear, who?  Commandant?"  Hogan asked.

"Just a slip of the tongue Hogan," Klink warned, "Now Hogan, I warned you not to play your mind games with me, now you're..."

"KLINK!?!"  Klink stood up straight and tall, as Burkhalter screeched out his name.  Burkhalter slowly walked in, and looked Klink up and down.  "What in God's name happened to you?"

"Rough night."  Hogan said.

"Is your name Klink, Hogan?"  Burkhalter snapped.

"Rough night, sir!"  Klink repeated.  "If you don't mind me saying so, Herr General, but what are you doing back here, I thought you were leaving for Berlin?"

"Yes, I was," Burkhalter said, "But someone stole my staff car!"

"Stole you staff car?"  Klink asked shocked.  "What happened?"

"I went into a restaurant to have lunch, when I returned, it was gone!"

"You mean..."

"I had to walk all the way here!"  Burkhalter growled.   "And when I find who stole it, I'm going to…"

"Excuse me, Herr General," Helga said, as she came in."


"I think your staff car just pulled up outside."

"What?!"  They all rushed outside, to see General Burkhalter's staff car pulling up.  The doors opened, and Major Hochstetter stepped out.  His uniform was wrinkled, and he stank.

"G-good morning, Herr General!"  Hochstetter stammered.  "I suppose you are wondering what I am doing with your staff car…"

"The thought did cross my mind," Burkhalter said calmly.

Well, you see, it's like this, Herr General," Hochstetter began, "I removed vital information on the whereabouts of Professor Carlson from Colonel Hogan,"

"Colonel Hogan?!"  Both Klink and Burkhalter said at the same time.  Hogan shrugged.

"I have no idea what he's talking about."

"Oh yes you do," Hochstetter snarled, walking right up to Hogan, "I have your confession right here!"  He pulled out the record."

"Major, what did you do in town yesterday?"  Burkhalter asked, pinching his nose from the smell that was coming from the Major.

"I chased Professor Carlson from the train station, and through the sewers!"

"Really!"  Burkhalter said.

"But he, uhhh, gave us the slip."  Hochstetter said in a small voice.

"Sounds to me, like wild goose chase," Hogan chirped.  Hochstetter growled.

"That's all very good, Major," Burkhalter said, "But that doesn't explain why you took my staff car!"

"Someone slashed all the tiers on my car again, and we needed to comb the city for Professor Carlson."

"Major," Burkhalter snapped, "Your story, is like you, it stinks!  Now, show me one solid piece of evidence that proves Carlson was in town, or I'll make good on my promise of shipping you off to Leningrad"

"Hogan told me so, he said they help Carlson to escape!"

"How could I help a scientist to escape, I'm a prisoner of war, remember!"

"Major!"  Burkhalter warned.

But -- but I have the evidence of Hogan's confession, right here!"  Hochstetter whined, pulling out the record.  "Here, I'll play it for you."  They all walked into Klink's office, and over to the record player, and put it on.

"Won't you come home, Billy Bailly!  Won't you come home!  I've missed you all, night, looooooong!"  The record sang.  Hochstetter practically turned white as a sheet.  Bukerhalter walked up slowly, and leaned over Hochstetter's shoulder.

"The train leaves tomorrow at seven am sharp!"

"Hey, Major!"  Hogan called out.  Hochstetter just groaned and turned around to face him.


"Are you through with me yet?"  He asked, a broad grin plaster across his face.

Hochstetter just made a face.  "Baaaaahh!"  He moaned weakly, and then stumbled out the door.


Klink walked back into his office, and slumped down in his chair, "Thank God that's over with!"  He cried out.

"Not quite, sir," Hogan said.



"Hogan!"  Klink warned.  "I won't hesitate to put you on the same train as Hochstetter!"

"I did nothing, sir," Hogan said, "It your deep friendship of Schultz that's eating away at you!"

"Hogan, do you know how ridicules that sounds?"

"Go ahead, sir," Hogan said, "say what you want, you're just denying it."

Klink got up to say something, but stopped.  He slumped back into his chair.  "Hogan, get out of my office," he moaned.

Klink watched Hogan leave.  He was right.  He was denying it.  The facts were plain and simple, Schultz had always been there for him, no matter what, and how had he always rewarded him, buy calling him names, or threatening to send him east.

Klink seemed to have no particular love for Schultz, but his conscious ate away at him.  How could he be so nasty to Schultz after everything he'd done for him? 

He missed Schultz.  The way he would blunder in, the way he would ramble, the utter stupidity that made him laugh. 

The watch he'd given him for his birthday.

Klink looked over at the phone beside his desk.


"Here he comes," Schmidt said to Gruver.  Both men looked up from polishing the tank, to see a freshly uniformed Schultz heading their way.

"Remember the plan," Gruver said, "Be nice to him, gain his trust, and when we go into battle," he slammed his fist into his open palm.  They both chuckled.

"Hey guys," Schultz said, "Guess what?"

"The suspense is killing me," Schmidt said.

"I've been promoted to command our unit, and you guys will be serving under me, and we won't be split up.  Now we can be friends all the time!"

"Wonderful," Gruver said.

"I never thought combat would be so exciting!"  Schultz exclaimed. 

"Schultz!"  Schultz turned and saluted, as the Colonel came up to him.

"Yes, Herr Colonel."

"Schultz, I have some bad news for you," He replied, "I just got a call from your old camp Commandant, it seems he's at a lose without your efficient skills, and wants you back!"

"Klink said that about me?" 

"I'll let you go, only if you want to," The Colonel replied.

"Well, if the Big Shot said that about me, maybe he really means it," Schultz said with a shrug, "Okay, I accept his offer."  The Colonel saluted Schultz.

"Goodbye, Schultz," he said, "You're the best Sgt. I've ever had!"  Schultz smiled, and turned around to Schmidt and Gruver, who were hugging themselves with glee.

"Guess what, guys,"

"We heard," Gruver said with a large smile.

"The best Sgt. he's ever had," Schultz struck a pose, "I guess I am the top of the line prison guard."

"My dear Sgt. Schultz," Schmidt said, "On a scale of scraping the bottom of the barrel, you rank just below a ten-year-old Hitler Youth, armed with the Chicken Pox!"


Hogan opened the door to Klink's office.  "You wanted to see me, sir?"  Hogan asked.

"Yes I did, Hogan," Klink said, "Guess what, I have some very good news for you!"

Hogan smiled.  "Old Bubble head finally shaved of his moustache?"  Klink nodded.

"Yes Hogan, Old Bubble head finally shave of his awww shuddup!"  He groaned, swiping the air in front of him.  "I've decided to grant your request, I'm bringing Sgt. Schultz back from the Russian Front."

"That's wonderful sir," Hogan said, a smile creeping onto his face, "When will he be coming back?"

"Two days from now," Klink said, "I'm going to meet him when he comes back into camp."

"Hey, Commandant?" 

"Yes, Hogan?"

"Might I suggest a little welcome home gift?"


Klink rocked back and forth on his heels, as the transport truck pulled into the prison camp.  Schultz stepped down from the truck, and looked around happily.

"Schultz!"  Klink cried out happily, and ran to embrace Schultz, "Welcome home by dear friend!" 

"Dear friend, Herr Commandant?"  Schutlz asked, "I thought I was a fat Dumkopf?"

"Can't you take a little joke, Schultz," Klink said chuckling,

"But I blew up your office?"

"Accidents do happen."

"But I thought I tried to kill you?"

"Just a slip of the tongue!"

"But I thought that…"

"Schultz!  Don't push your luck!"

"Yes, Herr Commandant."  Schultz said, saluting, Klink saluted,

"Oh, Schultz, would you like to join me for dinner tonight?"  Klink asked.

"Me, Herr Commandant?"  Schultz asked.

"Yes," Klink said, "I've been a complete and utter jerk to you, Schultz, you at the front, it made me realise how much you mean to me, and well, you know it, and I know it, you're the only friend I have."

"Then I would be delighted to join you, Willy!"

"That's Comm,,, ahh all right, you can call me Willy, but on one condition!"  He dropped to his knees, "Please, make me a glass of warm milk, I haven't had a decent nights sleep in days!"

Schultz chuckled, "Okay, willy!"  Then turned around to leave.  "Oh, Herr Commandant?"  Klink turned around.


"I missed you too!"  Klink smiled, then reached into his pocket.

"I almost forgot to give this to you, Schultz," he said, handing some papers to him.  "Colonel Hogan suggested this," Schultz flipped through them, and his eyes brightened.

"You're granting me a week long leave in Paris?"  He cried out happily!  "Herr Commandant, where did you get the money for this?"

"My savings for my winter holiday in the alps."  Klink said, waving the question away.  "That's for the lousy birthday card I gave you, Schultz."

"Lousy?"  Schultz said shocked, "I thought it was funny!"

"You did?"  Klink asked.

"Oh yes, Herr Commandant!  I didn't really think any present was necessary, after that.  Heh, that joke still makes me laugh."

Klink spun around, and looked directly at the barracks.