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"A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers;
There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears;
But a comrade stood beside him, and he took that comrade's hand
And he said: "I shall never see my own, my native land."                                                                              -Caroline E. Norton

This excerpt from the poem, Bingen on the Rhine by Caroline E. Norton was used in part XI of the Open Boat by Stephen Crane. While reading it, I was inspired to write this. It is considered complete at the moment, but if people wish me to write more I'm not opposed to the idea. 

As always, please comment and vote.

God bless,

Trekkiehood

~TH~

He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He was scared, something he would not often admit to. The bullet was still in his shoulder and causing great discomfort. But he kept going. He had too. The Patrol was right behind him.

A meeting with the Underground gone wrong. He hoped everyone else had gotten out. With this many Krauts following me, they would have had to. That was his prayer anyway. 

At least he had gone out alone. He'd never forgive himself if one of his men were caught in this. In this case, he didn't have to worry about anyone else. Just himself.

A spray of bullets sent him diving for the ground. He couldn't afford to get shot. Again. One bullet was enough.

He regretted the sudden movement as soon as he was on the ground. His shoulder protested the sudden impact. He stifled a groan as he pushed himself away from the earth. Pull yourself together Rob! He silently scolded himself. He had to get up, had to keep moving.

He set off again. Hoping to move both quickly and silently. He had already lost a lot of blood. Too much in all honesty. He could tell by the way he was shaking and the way the world was slowly becoming grey. He felt woozy but pushed himself harder. He couldn't get caught. He had made it this far in the war, he had made it this far back to camp if he could only hold out a few more minutes. He was almost there.

The SS guards were gaining on him. The world was starting to blur. His eyes sought for focus as he stumbled through the woods surrounding Stalag 13. He was so close to home. Well, his current place of residence. No matter how often he informed people that Stalag 13 was home, no matter how well he hid his homesickness, he longed for the United States, for Ohio, for his family, for home.

He heard a noise behind him. His muddled brain couldn't register what it was. He turned around, not wanting to be caught completely off guard if the SS men were on top of him. Just as he turned around, another spray of bullets was sent out. Before he could get his body to make the necessary movements to get away, a searing pain pierced through his chest. He gasped in pain, stumbling backwards.

He fell backwards, whether, from pain, weakness, or the rough terrain, he wasn't sure. He attempted to stand but found that it was impossible. He laid there unmoving for several moments. The intense pain in his shoulder and chest slowly began to ebb away. He was shivering, shaking uncontrollably. His vision was dimming and his senses were of no help to him. He knew he was going into shock. But, there was nothing he could do. Nothing, but lay there and hope he would die before he was turned over to the Gestapo.

Get up! He heard from the farthest corner of his mind, Get up! Your men need you! But he paid it no heed. It would only result in him leading the Nazis back to the camp. Back to his men. That was the last thing he wanted. And there was no way he could outrun the SS. Especially now. Kinch would take care of things. They'd talked about this. He only hoped they would follow through with his orders.

It was almost roll call. They would be worried. He was supposed to have been back hours ago. But between the meeting and the SS..., it didn't matter now. He could hear the patrol closing in on him.

Hochstetter was going to have a field day with this. With him, if he lived long enough. At this point, he doubted he'd make it out of the woods alive. The most likely outcome was that he'd die where he had fallen. He didn't have the strength to even try to move.

I'll never see home again. The thought caught him off guard. Home. He had always known the risks. Always known it was improbable for him to make through the war. But he had always thought, hoped, that he would beat the odds. He always had before. But now, now, with a bullet in his shoulder and a bloody hole in his chest, he realized he would never again see the beautiful United States. He would never again see Ohio. He would never again see home.

He felt what little strength he had left fade away. Closing his eyes he offered a small prayer of protection for his men. The sound of footsteps and voices worked to penetrate his thoughts. He ignored them. Hands roughly grabbed him, but it didn't matter. It was over for him. He had nothing left to offer. 

Home. He saw the smiling faces of his mom and dad in their small house in the middle of Clevland.

Home. A small smile crossed his own lips as all conscious thought finally slipped away.   

Home.

~TH~

Let me know what you think! Also, be sure to check out mine and SouthernGal7's Hogan's Heroes story "Just Another Day" on our account MisfitFandoms. 

If you have any suggestions for another Hogan's Heroes story, just drop a comment or PM me. 

God bless,

Trekkiehood