Le Beau: "And if you don't come back, then what?"

Hogan: "Burn everything. Contact London; tell them we need a plane to get everybody out of here. Don't do anything until you're sure."

Le Beau: "The suspense is killing me."

Hogan: "It's not doing me a lot of good, either."

(From "The Dropouts")

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Robert Hogan glanced over at Sergeant Schultz as the guard struggled to keep up with the Colonel's increasingly brisk pace. Might as well get this over with, Hogan thought. He tried to fight the panic that was rising like an acidic flame within him. His chest was so tight it hurt to breathe, and he had to consciously tell himself over and over again to unclench his fists.

The men in Kommandant Klink's quarters had seen him and Carter dressed in German uniform on a road outside of camp last night. Carter had been startled by an unexpected stomp on his foot and had cried out in English, loudly enough that it couldn't have been missed. Miraculously, the Germans had left without shooting Hogan and Carter… but now, only hours later, they were here at Stalag 13, and with Klink. And Klink had almost immediately sent for him. It was a bad sign. The worst.

Please, fellas, obey my order and get out when I don't come back, Hogan pleaded silently. His eyes scanned the barbed wire fences and the guard towers as they passed. He wondered fleetingly if he would even stand a chance if he made a break for it. Immediately, he disregarded the idea; the guards were all on standby with what appeared to be important guests in the camp. If he didn't get shot outside the wire, he'd be caught inside and dragged back to Klink and his visitors, and get shot later on. Why put off till tomorrow what you can do to get killed today? he thought with a touch of bitterness.

Had he given Le Beau the right instructions regarding the paperwork to keep? What if his men got caught with the maps and lists of names and locations that Hogan had deemed too important to destroy? Then more than just his own men would be at risk—dozens of key figures in the Underground could be in danger. He flexed his fingers and let out a deliberate breath. We need those details intact. London will want those. The fellas are resourceful; they'll keep them safe. It'll be okay.

His eyes lit on the shiny black staff car parked outside Klink's office. Yeah, right.

Klink's quarters loomed closer almost in slow motion, in sharp contrast to the way thoughts seemed to be rushing through Hogan's brain at breakneck speed. Hogan shook his head to try and force his mind to think clearly. Do what you can. Protect your men. Stall long enough for them to figure out that it's all gone bad and they need to get out. Please, God, don't let them wait….

A tiny voice deep inside hoped, Maybe they could find a way to save you?

No, was the firm, instant answer. Hogan was unsure if he'd said the word aloud. He tried again to pull himself together. They've got to get out, all of them. Newkirk's strong; he'll hate it, but he'll go. And then so will the others. They've gotta get out. It's my job to take the hit. I've always known that, and I've always been willing to do it. It's no different now than it was when I was up in the sky. Except, somehow, I think I owe you fellas even more….

The loyal faces of Hogan's men flashed through the Colonel's mind as he put his foot on the bottom step leading to Klink's quarters, giving him the strength he knew he had to have right now. He turned as Schultz seemed ready to follow him in.

"I'll take it from here, Schultz," Hogan said quietly. "I have a feeling I know what he wants."

Hogan stopped at the front door and took one last, deep, calming breath. "We did good, fellas," he praised his men in a whisper. "It's okay." Then he stepped inside the building to meet the end.