Fic: Icing On The Village (1/1)
Title: Icing On The Village (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Robert Hogan/James Ivan Kinchloe, Louis LeBeau
Fandom: Hogan's Heroes
Genres: Angst, Drama, Historical
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: During a mission to Hammelburg at Christmas time, Hogan finds himself more disturbed than charmed.
Date Of Completion: December 7, 2022
Date Of Posting: December 15, 2022
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Paramount does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1584
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Covers dirt and grime,
The icing masking
Unspeakable crime.
A Potemkin Village
Of deceit.
Fragile and phony
A crumbling street.
Countess Sofia Spassky
"My Marzipan Lover
And Other Poems"
1918 C.E.
In December of 1942, the war was going well for Germany, or at least that was the story on state-controlled radio, the newsreels in the movie theaters and in newspapers hawked by apple-cheeked boys on street corners. Early in the year, there were triumphs in North Africa and headway being made against the Soviet Union while their Japanese allies were making dark days in the South Pacific for the Allies.
By the end of the year, the tide was turning. Rommel and his troops were trapped in Tunisia, the Russians had encircled the Germans at Stalingrad and the Japanese might possibly abandon Guadalcanal to the Marines.
Yet the German people were happy and optimistic. Even if the Office of Propaganda and had been telling the truth, the majority of Germans wouldn't have believed them.
Snow was falling lightly on the Hammelburg street as Robert Hogan walked leisurely past the quaint shops.
Christmas in Germany. What could be more picturesque? Hammelburg was like those pictures one saw in old books about Victorian Christmases, all very charming and a standard for the season with berry-laden wreaths with red bows on the doors and the lampposts festooned with twining holly and more red berries. Store windows were filled with festive displays, children excited about dolls, trains and rocking horses. Jewelry stores dazzled while confectioners offered fabulous sweets.
Hogan paused in front of the confectionary. He took in the cakes, cookies and chocolates, finally checking his watch. He walked to The Blue Dachshund and went inside.
The hofbrau was typical with its dark wood paneling, a long bar and small tables crowding the place. It smelled of beer and fried dough, and there were bowls of pretzels and nuts on the bar's shiny wood surface.
It was now late afternoon and the hofbrau was beginning to fill up. Men in uniform were out with pretty frauleins while civilians enjoyed frosty mugs of beer. The kitchen was gearing up to start serving full dinners and the smells of German cooking wafted out.
Hogan took a table in the corner and sat facing the door. He ordered a beer and Flensheim potato fries, taking out a cigarette as he waited for his contact. He wouldn't smoke it, but it was good camouflage.
Everyone seemed happy and full of holiday cheer. If there was a concern about the war's recent setbacks, no one indicated it. Glossy shopping bags set at their feet were filled with gifts and holiday treats.
The pretty blonde barmaid brought his beer and fries ten minutes later. He accepted both happily and sipped his beer while nibbling on the fries.
Back in the States people would be trying hard to get into the holiday spirit despite shortages pinching society, heavy losses in the Pacific Theater while North Africa had seen the U.S. Army's first casualties. Things were not quite as dark as earlier in the year, but there was a very long haul ahead and Americans knew it.
Mom and Dad will have the tree up, all the decorations inside and outside festive and cheerful, even with the red-and-white banner with a blue star in the center hanging in the window, symbolizing their son's service.
He sighed. The last peacetime Christmas his fellow Americans had enjoyed was in 1940, hoping against hope not to get drawn into the war in Europe (for the second time this century). The Christmas of 1941 had been bittersweet. It was likely the last Christmas a lot of families would ever be together. And there were already gold stars replacing blue ones in some banners, symbolizing the loss of loved ones to the war.
The barmaid had brought a cup of something like cocktail sauce for the fries and he dipped one in, savoring the rich flavor. He thought about his team back at the stalag. He was still learning about them (though he already knew LeBeau would be outraged at the hofbrau's German menu), but he considered them a good crew.
And there was Kinch. Soft-spoken with big, brown eyes, quiet but ready to offer advice and just an ear to listen. Hogan had been attracted to him immediately and was delighted to find the feeling was mutual. They were playing a dangerous game, but both were willing to risk it.
He had plans for the two of them, but that was later. Right now, he had a mission to perform, simple as it was. Simple could still be dangerous.
He looked around the hofbrau. The holiday spirit was strong. Everybody happy and festive, everything picturesque and charming.
And all of it covering a darkness that Hogan found frightening.
All of this picture-perfect village with the quaint shops and happy people saying 'Merry Christmas' is like the snow falling and covering dirty city streets. Hammelburg's charm covers a lot of ugliness.
The hofbrau door opened and a middle-aged woman strolled in. She casually took a look around the room, spotting Hogan's red carnation in his lapel. She wended her way through the crowded tables.
"The snow is quite lovely," she said.
"It always is this time of year," Hogan answered in good German.
She sat down.
Thia woman knows the charming village covers a multitude of sins. A Potemkin Village, German-style.
& & & & & &
After the meeting Hogan left the hofbrau and stopped in the greengrocer's to get whatever fresh fruits and vegetables were available, then went into the confectioner's. The snow fell prettily from the skies
& & & & & &
When Hogan returned to Stalag 13, he distributed the groceries amongst the barracks, along with a box of chocolates for each barracks.
"Very generous, sir," Kinch said, watching LeBeau eagerly dipping into the shopping bags
"Why not? I bought it all with our counterfeit money."
Kinch grinned. "You'd be on the FBI's Most Wanted List back home, sir."
Hogan laughed. "Ol' J. Edgar Hoover on my trail?"
"I'd like to be on your tail," said Kinch in a low voice.
Hogan's eyes sparkled. "Come into my quarters."
Kinch smiled. "How could I resist the man who managed to get a bunch of Christmas trees during our last mission for the whole camp?"
The tree here in Barracks 2 smelled fresh and fragrant while glittering with homemade ornaments and scraps of tinsel.
"I've always been a creative type."
Kinch smirked. "Okay, lead on, sir."
Hogan opened the door to his private quarters. Kinch followed and closed the door behind them. Hogan turned and drew Kinch into a deep kiss.
When they broke apart, the shopping bag Hogan was holding crinkled.
"Nice," Kinch said. "And what's this? You already gave us groceries and chocolates."
"This is just for you."
Kinch took the bag and reached inside, pulling out a flat box labeled with the confectioner's name. The green box was wrapped with a red ribbon. Kinch untied the ribbon and lifted off the lid. Delight spread across his face.
"Robert?"
"Merry Christmas, Ivan."
Kinch lifted out the crystallized treat shaped like a lemon. "Is this marzipan?"
"That's right. I remember you said your aunt had sent a box of marzipan one Christmas when you were a kid and you were always on the look-out for more."
"A rare treat." Kinch admired the candy in his hand.
"Enjoy." Hogan gently pushed Kinch's hand toward his mouth.
Kinch grinned and took a bite. "Ooh, it's just as good as i remembered."
Hogan smiled as he watched Kinch enjoy his treat.
When he was finished Kinch said, "You are the best."
"Is that all it takes? A little marzipan and you're mine?"
"I'm always yours."
Kinch slid into an embrace and he and Hogan stayed close for several minutes, the sounds of merrymaking outside in the barracks a pleasant backdrop. They finally broke apart.
"So how was town?:
"Picture-perfect as the snow came down and the good citizens of Hammelburg went around saying, 'Merry Christmas!'"
Kinch raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"
"Oh, just the whole set-up. Everyone's so cheerful and going around like there's no war on. Not a thought for other families sent away to the camps. Just a jolly ol' Christmas." Hogan gazed out his window. "Snow covers a lot of sins."
Kinch put a hand on his lover's shoulder. "Rough, huh?"
"Utterly charming but rough as sandpaper."
"Did the charming part make you think of home?"
"Yes, sirree, it did."
"Well, everyone's in the same boat, though that doesn't make it easier."
Hogan sighed. "Sorry to bring the room down."
"We're in a P.O.W. camp in the middle of Germany during World War II. I think you're entitled to feeling a little down-in-the-mouth."
Hogan smiled slightly. "Guess you're right." He turned around to face Kinch. "It was just a frustrating experience."
"Do you think the snow will cover our truth?"
"You mean our little operation here in camp?"
Kinch nodded. "Guess we're a Potemkin Village, too."
Hogan smiled. "Look at that, brains as well as beauty."
Kinch laughed. "Why, thank you, Robert."
Hogan rubbed Kinch's arm. "You're right, though. And if we're really good and really lucky, our deception will cover this camp like the snow coming down out there, the icing on the cake."
Kinch put his arms around Hogan as he stood behind him and they watched the snowy scene outside the window.
Christmas 1942 might not be so bad after all.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish. :)
This story can also be read on AO3.