Act Two

Scene Two



– One –

The black car stopped on the road to Hammelburg; Newkirk and LeBeau got out.

Hogan leaned out of the window. "Sure you remember how to get to the cabin?" The two men nodded. "Okay. Get to the underground and bring a doctor back with you. Be as quick as you can."

"Oui, mon Colonel," LeBeau answered.

The two men stepped back as the car drove off into the darkness.

...

LeBeau knocked quietly on the hotel door as Newkirk kept watch in the hallway. Finally, a man in a dressing gown answered the knock. Surprise was reflected on both of their faces.

The man recovered first. "What are you doing here?" he whispered urgently.

"Please, may we come in?" LeBeau answered softly.

"Of course." The man stepped aside and let the two in.

...

The overcast day was just dawning when the car stopped at a small, nondescript cabin hidden deep in the woods. Newkirk, LeBeau and the man with them got out of the car and went to the door. Carter opened the door for them.

"Colonel Hogan," greeted Hauptmann Doktor Dieter Müller. "Meine Herren." Then he spotted, "Sergeant Schultz!" Sudden realization on his face. "Oh mein Gott! Wilhelm!"

"You didn't tell him," Hogan said to Newkirk.

Newkirk shook his head.

"This way," Hogan said.

Hogan went to the door in the left wall and opened it. He crossed the room to the night table and turned up the lamp to light the shuttered room. Müller gasped as he saw the man on the bed.

"The Gestapo had him for over sixty hours," Hogan said quietly.

Müller nodded grimly as he walked over to the bed. He placed his medical bag on the nightstand and removed his topcoat and cap.

"Do you need anything?" Hogan asked. "Or any help?"

Müller shook his head, dropping his coat and cap on the chair. He bent over the unmoving man. "Not yet. How long has he been unconscious?"

"Nearly four hours," Hogan answered shakily. "They were torturing him and he was screaming . . . " Hogan shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory.

"I will call if I need help," Müller said.

Hogan nodded and turned away. Then . . . "Doctor," he began hesitantly.

Müller straightened up and looked at him soberly. "I do not know, 

Colonel. Not yet."

Hogan nodded and closed the door softly behind him.

Dieter Müller turned back to the man on the bed. Klink's filthy clothing had been removed. He was covered with a blanket, a sheet wrapped around his loins. Schultz had cleaned off most of the dirt, but nothing would remove the ugly yellowish-purple bruises that splotched Klink's body.

Choking down a sob, Müller went to work as dispassionately as he could.

...

The still man's eyes slowly opened.

Müller bent over him. "Wilhelm," he said quietly.

Surprise flickered in the glazed eyes of the man staring up at him.

"Do not try to speak. But I have some questions for you," Müller said. "I need to know if there is any internal damage. Tell me if it hurts when I press so."

Müller's hands gently but firmly moved over Klink's body. The man on the bed nodded "yes" or "no" as the hands moved.

Müller finally straightened up. "I do not believe there is any internal damage. There are places where the muscles are quite bruised; they will be very sore for some time. In time, the discoloration will fade." He picked up a syringe. "This is a sedative; it will help you sleep. Right now, sleep is what you need the most." Müller injected his brother-in-law with a gentle hand. "I will be back later on."

Klink nodded and his eyes closed. As Müller watched, he fell asleep.

No longer the dispassionate doctor, tears began to slide down Dieter Müller's face.

...

Dieter Müller, his eyes suspiciously red, came out of the small bedroom.

Hogan watched him closely, half afraid of what he would say.

Müller managed a small smile that relaxed them all. "Nothing is broken and there appears to be no internal damage. In time, the bruises will fade. Only the right wrist might prove difficult; the flesh is mangled and infected. I have bandaged it, but the bandages will need to be changed every three hours."

"I can do that, Herr Doktor," Schultz said.

Müller nodded. "I have given him a sedative to help him sleep; sleep is what he needs the most. If he awakens, give him liquids but no stimulants. A light broth would be best."

"I will make him the best chicken soup he ever had," LeBeau swore.

Even Müller smiled. "My grandmother would approve." He slipped on his coat. "I wish I could stay but I have other duties that I must perform," Müller said. "I will be back later tonight. Let him rest, but keep an eye on him as well. Do not be surprised if he slips in and out of sleep. Try not to talk to him, let him heal." He reached into his bag and gave a tube of ointment to Schultz. "Use this when you change the bandages."

Schultz took the tube. "Jawohl, mein Herr."

"Thanks for coming, Doctor," Hogan said.

Müller stared at him in surprise. "It is I who should thank you, Colonel Hogan," Müller said in a shaking voice. "You have returned to me a man I care for deeply. It is a debt I cannot hope to ever repay."

"Don't!" Hogan said harshly. "You owe me nothing; neither does he." A deep breath. "He's taught me a lesson I needed to learn." He looked at Müller. "Do you understand?"

Müller nodded soberly. "Yes, I do. It is the same lesson he taught me many years ago. I nearly forgot it when I was last here. I will never forget it again." He picked up his bag. "I will see you later."

"Carter, go with him to the gate," Hogan ordered.

"Yes, sir."

Carter slipped on his coat and went out with Müller.