[November 20th] [Hogan's Heroes] It Was a Pleasure

[rose-of-pollux.livejournal.com]

Title: It Was a Pleasure
Day/Theme: November 20th - It was a pleasure to burn
Series: Hogan's Heroes
Characters: Corporal Peter Newkirk, Berlin Betty
Rating: T (WWII-era fandom)


Author’s note: This second vignette, which focuses on Newkirk as a judge of character, is based on episode 131, “Is There a Traitor in the House?” and contains major spoilers for said episode!

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Berlin Betty was waiting for Newkirk when the Englishman returned to Klink’s office. It was a perplexing dilemma he had; Hogan and the others had been most unsympathetic towards Betty’s story—how her family was being held hostage so that she’d do these propaganda broadcasts, and how he, Newkirk, was having second thoughts about slipping in the code into his speech.

He cast one look back out the window at Barracks Two. They would be waiting for his decision, he knew.

“Is something wrong, Newkirk?” Betty asked him.

Newkirk gave a start, turning back to her.

“Oh, it’s… it’s just…” He trailed off, not even sure where to begin.

“They don’t want you to go through with it?” she guessed. “It’s not too late, Newkirk; you can still refuse. I understand how you must feel, knowing that so many people will be listening to you.”

Cor, if you only knew the half of it, Newkirk thought.

Here she was, still unaware of why he really was going through with this charade—that his speech was coded, and that if he did give it, her life would very well be in danger. She wouldn’t be so cheerful if she only knew…

The corporal watched in silence as she drew two chairs to the table, upon which rested recording and radio equipment. She gestured for him to sit down.

“You must feel helpless here, spending day after day as a prisoner of war,” she said. “But you may be doing some good by denouncing the war. If it will bring peace, you will be able to go home. And you might see your family again.”

“And you might see yours,” Newkirk realized.

Betty smiled.

“You always think about others, don’t you?” she asked. It sounded as though her voice was filled with admiration.

“Yes,” Newkirk replied, instantly. “I do. I think about me family and me mates…”

“And me,” she added, still smiling.

Newkirk responded with a nod, his thoughts flying through his mind at dangerously fast speeds.

Why don’t you tell her the truth? Tell her that you know a way that you might be able to help her and her family. Tell her about the code—tell her that you can easily get the Underground to get her out of this predicament!

“Betty,” he began. “You know…” He trailed off as she dabbed at a tear.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “They don’t like it when I show emotions over my family like this. I am supposed to act as though I agree with their terrible ideals… And if I do not, what will happen to my family? I shudder to even think…!”

Newkirk’s gaze shifted around the room as he usually did when he was nervous. His glanced fell upon the picture where Kinch had installed the bug that fed to the coffeepot, and the realization hit him: they were hearing every word. Well, in the long run, it didn’t really matter—they would find out his decision sooner or later, once he figured out what it was.

The Englishman frowned. If they could hear everything, then surely their hearts weren’t so stone-cold that Betty’s story wasn’t tugging at a few heartstrings! The poor lady was pleading for help; why couldn’t they realize that?

He shut his eyes, trying to reach his decision.

He would have to say that he couldn’t go through with it, coded message or no coded message. Of course, that would make going back to Barracks Two more difficult than ever; he could just imagine Carter’s look of disappointment, Hogan and Kinch’s dissatisfied glares, and LeBeau’s look of utter disgust. The Frenchman was likely going to be the most displeased since Newkirk had asked him for advice earlier when the Englishman had presented his dilemma to them. And they all would be upset, especially after what had happened with Gretel…

…Gretel….

Newkirk suddenly felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. Gretel had told him a sob story, too, that he had fallen for hook, line, and sinker. And after he had shown her the tunnels, she had revealed herself to be working for Hochstetter. The major had almost found out about the entire operation; had it not been for Hogan’s quick thinking and Carter’s flawless disguise, the day could have ended with several arrests, and deaths would not have been too far behind.

“Newkirk?”

The Englishman looked at Betty as she spoke again; she had clearly sensed the distress that was creeping into him.

“Are you sure you want to go through with the broadcast, Newkirk?” she asked, still blinking back her tears. She still had no idea that the other Heroes wanted Newkirk to do the broadcast, and that the Englishman was trying to convince himself of the same. She looked so sincere; then again, so had Gretel.

But what if she’s telling the truth? Newkirk asked himself. They can all be like Gretel. Some of them have to be telling the truth.

And what if she isn’t being honest? his rational mind asked. What if she turns out to be another Gretel? Can you really risk the lives of your best mates?

“Newkirk, it’s time for the broadcast,” Betty said. “Just… just do what it is you feel you must.”

Newkirk gave a nod, only paying a minimal amount of attention as she began to talk over the recording equipment. He drew the paper with the coded speech from his pocket, looking over it as Betty began to run her fingers through his hair.

He would complete his mission. Maybe there would still be a way afterwards to help Betty—maybe he could ask her where her family was being held, if she possibly knew. The Underground could handle things, then. If they were close enough to Hammelburg, perhaps he could do it himself!

He was mulling over these thoughts as he read from the paper. He knew that his companions would be undoubtedly relieved as they heard him.

Without a question, they were worth more than all the frauleins in Germany.

As they finished up, Newkirk breathed a sigh as Betty signed off. He was smiling—he had completed his mission, and maybe there was going to be a way to help her and her family after all…

His smile quickly faded, however, as Betty’s demeanor changed to a much colder one, and she revealed the truth—that she had lied to him, and that her story and her apparent feelings for him had been a charade to test his sincerity. Newkirk didn’t let on how upset he was with himself for almost trusting her like he had done with Gretel—or how he had been ready to hint that there may have been a way to help her. He maintained his cocky air until after she had left; he dropped his own charade as Schultz led him back to Barracks Two.

“Why are you so upset?” the big man inquired. “You got to spend the entire evening with that sehr schöne Berlin Betty…” He shut his eyes. “Oh, how I wished I could have spent some time with her—”

“It ain’t as simple as that, Schultzie,” Newkirk replied, glumly. “But I guess everything turned out for the best.”

Schultz shrugged and ushered him inside the barracks before going off on his rounds.

Newkirk arrived to the voices of his comrades congratulating him, though he was only able to respond with half-hearted smiles—something which they realized immediately and knew the reason why.

“You don’t look so good,” Carter said, trying to make it seem as though he knew nothing of the matter. “You look as though you’ve been eating Louis’ bouillabaisse—ow!”

LeBeau had silently slapped the back of the young American’s head in response.

“Oh, go on…” Newkirk said. “I know you lot were listening over the coffeepot.”

“Well, we were holding our breath,” Kinch admitted.

“But you came through,” LeBeau said, patting the Englishman on the arm.

“Only just,” Newkirk admitted. “You don’t know ‘ow close I came to backing out. And after that, you don’t know ‘ow close I came to telling ‘er that I might know of a way to ‘elp ‘er family—which she never ‘ad!”

He shook his head, disgusted with himself.

“I can’t believe I fell for it,” he said, sitting down at the table.

“It’s always a blow when you find out that the woman you thought you loved was playing you for a fool,” Hogan said, sagely. “At least you went through with the mission and didn’t tell her.”

“Like I said, Guv, I thought about it,” the corporal admitted. “But then I thought of Gretel and realized that it was too much of a risk. So I was planning to ask ‘er if she knew of where ‘er family might be—without telling ‘er what I intended to do with that information, of course.”

“And then you’d run the information through the Underground,” Hogan concluded. “Well, I supposed that’s a major improvement on bringing girls into the tunnel.”

Newkirk flinched.

“I reckon I deserved that…” he said.

“But that is not what is truly bothering you, non?” LeBeau asked, sitting in one of the chairs beside him.

Newkirk looked at the shorter corporal. He wasn’t surprised that the Frenchman had been able to read him so well; that was partly the reason why he had gone to him for advice in the first place.

“Yeah, there is something else bothering me; I shouldn’t ‘ave believed that blooming Berlin Betty and ‘er pack of lies!” he snarled. “I’ve lived on the streets of Stepney long enough to be a fairly decent judge of character.”

“Hey, you said it yourself—lack of practice,” said Carter. “That’s why you didn’t see through Gretel, either.”

“You think I really meant that rubbish?” Newkirk asked, rolling his eyes. “Blimey, I was right about you when I judged you to be a nutcase.”

“Yeah, well that’s different,” Carter said, waving off the insult as LeBeau stifled a snark. “You run into a lot more nutcases than women in this line of work.”

“Ain’t that the truth…?” Kinch murmured.

“And besides that, if you really did lose your ability at being a good judge of character, you wouldn’t have hesitated in telling Berlin Betty about the truth,” Carter added. “And you probably wouldn’t have gone through with the mission.”

“And think of the bright side, mon pote,” LeBeau said. “Since you did go through with the mission, if the goons suspect that there was a coded message, they will investigate her!”

Newkirk pondered over this and smirked.

“Yeah, I reckon I did pull one over on ‘er, didn’t I? And right under ‘er ruddy nose, to boot!”

“Klink’s coming,” Olsen announced, pulling away from the door.

“I expected that,” Hogan said. “Everyone, get into position.”

LeBeau obligingly began to yell at Newkirk in his native tongue as Klink strode inside the barracks, though they all snapped to attention as the “noticed” Klink’s arrival.

“Fighting amongst yourselves?” the German colonel asked, shaking his head. “Disgraceful. Simply disgraceful.”

“Sir, I request permission to administer punishment to this… traitor!” Hogan said, playing the part of a disgusted commanding officer.

“Permission denied, Hogan,” Klink said, a grin on his face. “You see, Newkirk will be getting special treatment for his contribution for a week—extra rations and showers, and there is nothing you can say or do, Hogan, that will get me to change my mind. You see, the Geneva Convention most certainly will not think poorly of such treatment, will they?”

“You’re cruel, Sir,” Hogan responded. “Cruel beyond comprehension…”

Klink merely smirked and turned to Newkirk.

“Newkirk, you don’t have spend time here with the rest of these closed minds if you feel as though you would prefer better quarters,” he said.

“I’ll be fine, Sir,” the Englishman said. “I can look after meself; underneath it all, they’re all talk.”

The others responded with angry rants.

“True, Newkirk, true,” Klink said. “All the same, there is something else to discuss. You see, Betty had to return to Berlin—matter of emergency, she said. But she left you this note of thanks. Is there anything you wish to tell her?”

Newkirk shook his head, and Klink merely shrugged and left the barracks.

“I’m surprised, Newkirk,” Hogan said. “You didn’t want to give Betty a tongue-in-cheek compliment that only you would know the true meaning of?”

“Not really, Sir,” Newkirk said, taking out a lighter and setting fire to the thank-you note. “But tomorrow morning, when we ‘ear that ball bearing plant getting demolished, I can reflect on ‘ow it really was a pleasure.”