Her Second Chance: Rescue

Note and Disclaimer: I'll be saying this every time. I don't own the characters to Hogan's Heroes nor do I own any of the songs I have posted. I would like to thank those who have created this series and those who have written these great songs. However, the character I have created, Colonel Michalovich, belongs to me, so if you want to use her, please email me with permission.

This is part three of the story of the female spy Colonel Michalovich. There are two other parts previous, so please read them before you read this one, for I continue the story as I leave off and I do warn: you will get lost if you try to read this and not the others beforehand. However, I do intend to continue this character's story until the end of the war, so I have no idea how many stories I'll have. I do have many ideas about segments for upcoming ones. This one, however, has to be one of the most difficult to write because not only has this character have to deal with loss and sacrifice (back to the horrors she faced earlier, so briefly), but has to now command the men of Stalag 13. Enjoy!


Journal of Colonel Nikola Anna Michalovich, U.S. Army: LC8547960
December 14, 1943
Hammelburg, Germany: Luftstalag 13, the Tunnels – 0130 Hours

Late in the summer when the cottonwood dies
And the fields are on fire with green bottleflies
I'm still seeing reflections of me in your eyes
And why did you leave last summer?

Now, the seasons are changing from summer to fall
And I've still got that picture hung on my wall
And there's so much forgotten and too much recalled
And why did you leave at all…?

Standing beside you mid-winter day
Hearts beating close together
Wishing that we'd found some way
To make that moment last forever…

Standing silent, laughing breathing steam
Gazing down into a freezing stream
I saw the face of a child
I saw the face of a child…

I can't believe that, for the past few months, I haven't been able to write.

It has been too long since I've been down here in the infamous Stalag 13 tunnels as well. Since the middle of September, the Gestapo has been investigating everything that has happened since my arrival to the spying ring and are still searching for the answers into the sabotage of the rocket base and bombing of General Hozellenan's home outside of Hammelburg. Their analysis of the situations have had them snooping around here, since we are the center of it all, and this center of activity has been their home. They have taken over Stalag 13, having no wish of removing themselves as the Luftwaffe Generals have ordered, and have Klink under their thumb as we prisoners are under their fists.

Hochstetter has been here every day (he practically lives here) interrogating me and Rob. He's threatened torture and death and even bribed us for information. It was to no avail. No torture of any kind could have blurted out all of the secrets we share with each other and with the company of men that roam this camp. We cannot do it.

Every evening afterward, we all try to pull ourselves together and force ourselves to face another day of tense interrogation. It was worse that Hochstetter tried to torment some of the other men in the cooler for information, also with nothing to tell him. I was appalled when LeBeau, Amos, Wilson and Carter came back bruised and silent (even LeBeau had no spirit to fight anymore). Newkirk, Kearns, and Kinch were next within the hour and they all came back worse than ever before.

Yesterday, how it seemed so long ago, Rob was sneaking around in the tunnels, amazingly enough with the security here, and I saw him write that poem this journal as I quietly sat at the ladder. The journal was something I've kept here to hide from the guards that daily search our quarters. And that day, the Gestapo had a time in the town and the guards were low in count (amazingly enough), so I understood why he was there, but not why he wrote it. To me, though, it is all over and the poem means nothing to me.

Fear has been installed into the hearts of the prisoners and there has been no hope of escape (the guards have been tripled) or of being alive for after the war. Our operation has been shut down on Rob's orders and the radio turned off by Kinch since the Gestapo came in with a transmitter that minutely checks for any signals. The Underground units have been notified beforehand and are working on their own terms and resources, which have been very little without us. London has been limping along with this operation down, and with this new Christmas Offensive, we could have the war bagged by the next year. Instead, the Gestapo has ruined us.

Worst of all…Hochstetter had Rob arrested and jailed in the cooler only a few hours ago.

I tremble to even write this.

A few hours ago, only yesterday Rob came up from the tunnels, it seemed like a normal night, for regular prisoners of war anyway. It was only twelve more days until Christmas and the men, whose spirits would have been raised by the joyous holiday season, sat and moped around the barracks because we were all trapped in a barren wasteland without the freedom to even move. There have been no letters from home, no Red Cross packages and not even any fun activities to do since it has been cold and snowy and the Gestapo interrogations more and more overwrought. The snow storms outside had been swarming around for a few days and roll calls have been bitter indeed. To me, it has been another year in captivity and another year to look forward to, if I ever dare to expect on seeing it with Rob…or anyone else for that matter. The night of December 5-6 (I believe it was that night) marks the year in which the Third Reich has kept me from my fulltime Allied duties, slim as they are now.

Then, only then, it was only 1800 hours thereabouts, an hour before the lights had to go out. Klink was in too foul a mood as of late to let us have the lights on longer and the Gestapo is strict about letting us have the lights. They enforce regulations – and more – to the letter, sadly. Rob has not made any trips to the Kommandant's office to complain about the conditions here. Hochstetter controls Stalag 13 and his squads of goons picket our barracks by the hour. If we try to come out of the barracks for anything, there is always a guard with a gun on our backs, especially at roll calls. It seems that the endless amount of men here have been transported from the Russian Front, only to satisfy Hochstetter's schemes. Indeed, foot soldiers from there could have transferred to the Gestapo.

Roll call, in this way, as been agony for everyone as well. They come into the barracks, those guards, and hustle everyone out and our lives seemed to be measured by how quick we are in getting out to be counted. The slower we are, the more punishment we receive: no food for the day, more men taken into the cooler…whatever Hochstetter wants and feels like doing for that day. So far, all barracks fallout at a record of twenty seconds and then ten to get back into the barracks. It is freezing cold and at least three men have died because of the cold. It is worse that Schultz doesn't even watch our barracks anymore (he tries to) for he goes where Hochstetter orders him to go. All Gestapo guards watch us now.

I am disgusted further by this treatment…once a guard shot a prisoner (it appeared to be an accident, according to the Gestapo). The man, whose name was Private Jerkins, had died before Rob and I were informed of the incident (we were out with Hochstetter that time). There was not a single memorial service for the man, no funeral and most certainly, no burial or even a letter or his dogtags sent home to his family. Anyone who had done so would be punished severely, and that could mean a number of different things, like I have mentioned. All that was ordered was that the body be buried in the back of the Kantine, the blood to be washed away from the barracks floors and that nobody speaks of it again.

Anyhow (I am trembling to write this worse, for I have gone off-topic for too long) Rob and I were sitting in the barracks with the other men, talking and laughing about our previous holidays before the war. Carter had been describing what it had been like in the Midwest with his eggnog and woman then, Mary Jane (something about him not being in the army, too – Uncle Sam needing him?). Kinch talked of ice skating and some women he knew. Newkirk fixated himself on the pretty ladies only. And LeBeau was all about the fabulous food and, to no one's surprise, the French women in Paris (too many men here have seen too little women except for me, sometimes Linkmeyer and those secretaries of Klink's, who are, by the way, very nice but also not here anymore because of the Gestapo and have, so far, refused to come back).

Rob and I laughed about our vacations from the military, wearing civilian clothing and taking walks in the slushy parks of Bridgeport, and once recording Christmas dinner with his family. Thomas had been alive then and was happy to have me around for a change. Jerry was growing up to be a pain in the ass to us all (him and his baseball obsession, all in thanks to Rob). Christopher was around for once, too, and not in school in Arizona. Jimi had taken Jeanette over here for the first time, before he asked for her hand in marriage. Ted had taken time off of school in California and was almost forbidden to bring Rose, for Thomas was still angry about his marriage and Sally was the only one to persuade him otherwise. Even Sally, who had been a second mother to me for years, welcomed me with open arms and comforted me as Father left for Russia with his compatriots of the Socialist government.

All and all, like I said, it was a normal evening for prisoners of war. There was no talk of plans to sabotage the German war effort, nothing about our tunnels and radio and absolutely nothing about talking to London and asking what they needed done. It was just a talk of civilian life, the happiest days of our lives and of life here at Stalag 13 without the people we love the most besides us (which is women, and even family, for all of them). I felt my heart break with these stories being told, for it is almost seems like years since I've seen Father, happy and always with that wry smile of his before this war destroyed him and then sent him back to active duty.

Nobody was watching the door as we usually do for there was nothing to hide from our former guard Schultz (he comes in here at night to warn us of something like bedchecks or any unusual events and usually, he is caught by the Gestapo, but has the same excuses of checking the barracks every time or that he knows nothing) or even the Gestapo. The tunnels have been blocked and are ready to blow up, with a flick of a switch, just in case something happens, all on Rob's orders. I cried on that brittle October day when Carter was wiring the tunnels with explosives, about three and a half weeks after Hochstetter came along with his assailants. Our part in this world feels as if it was over and Carter was wiring it tighter and tighter, gripping my heart with its epilogue.

Afterward, there was a meeting in our barracks and messages brought to those men who couldn't make the meeting, which were quite a few men because the "disappearing" of men had started. Rob then gave the order that in case that if he is captured, the men, myself included if I can, are to evacuate the barracks, flee through the emergency exits and then blow up the tunnels.

I thought that I would have to have killed myself first, for I will stick with Rob to the very end. I told Rob that the same day in October when he gave the order. Rob replied, "Nikki, I can't afford to lose you again. Life can go on without me and there are others to marry." I knew it wouldn't be the same for me ever again without him.

I know that Rob was serious and he didn't want me to be unhappy for the rest of my life, but to move on and create a happy ending for myself in the States. You know, I can almost forget the last time he tried to joke around since I came here (rare is the same he jests now). We have to survive this war together, no matter what the cost. It is like the marriage vow: till death do us part. And it will never part us, for I will not follow through to the States without Rob. Without him, there is no life for me, but the family back there that reminds me more and more of the times of the past I want to forget.

About the time the lights went out (it was 1850 hours already) us prisoners stopped our chatting simultaneously. There was a loud noise, a shot almost, outside of our doors and it was pretty damned close, too. Then there were dogs hollering and the sound of guards marching this way. We knew that it meant trouble.

The barracks door was pushed open brutally and the usual Gestapo guards flooded our barracks. All had guns in their hands and were not afraid to use them against us (illogical, really, since we're not armed). Most of these guard consisted of the children guards here that have turned to the Gestapo for greater glory. Originally, we had them here because Klink needed more guards. Now, they are transferred to the Gestapo and are using it as an excuse to be brutal.

All the prisoners rose from their bunks or seats and put their hands in the air, Rob and I included. We were still trying to wipe the smiles from our faces and act somber (we can't afford to agitate the Gestapo any further, so it would be best to do as they pleased and submit to their authority). Rob and I also, in the meantime, avoided any glances to each other that would incriminate us further to Hochstetter. All gestures of familiarity will kill us both, so I knew sitting next to each other at a table is risky enough.

Within this crowd of sentries came our cowardly Kommandant Klink, Schultz and Major Hochstetter. At the sight of Hochstetter my neck prickled, a sure sign of danger and impending disaster. I may ignore it half the time, but I knew, within an instant, that we were in for a disaster.

Hochstetter looked victorious like he was a little boy awarded for his good behavior. Indeed he was going to nab something he has been waiting to snatch from the high shelf that he could never reach until now. Klink and Schultz came in behind him and they looked miserable, another sign that something was going on because those two are never around when Hochstetter wants something, especially if that something was going to be achieved that moment. Klink was especially depressed. His camp had been taken over by the Gestapo. What more can he do about it? Klink can't even control who was going to be arrested or even killed even though he outranks Hochstetter. Schultz…well, Schultz cannot stand killing and has no authority in this camp. There was no more protection.

As always, Hochstetter got to the point and very quickly. "Colonel Hogan, come forward," he said, then savoring the moment that he'd been waiting for, the time in which he finally caught up with our organization. My neck was prickling more and the impulse to pull Rob away and run off had to be snuffed out. There was no way out of this mess. My thoughts raced as Rob got up from his seat next to me and moved forward.

Once away from the table, two guards of Hochstetter's grabbed him. Hochstetter grinned and continued. "Colonel Hogan, on the orders of the Gestapo, and indeed is this my pleasure, that you be arrested for espionage against the Third Reich. You will be held in the cooler of Stalag 13, transferred to Gestapo Headquarters twelve days hence and shot as a spy. As soon as I can incriminate your men and Colonel Michalovich here, they will be shot along with you on the same day."

Rob was hiding back his fear, I can tell. Shot on Christmas Day, though? I bit my lip back to keep myself from crying out, a womanly stereotype I've tried to avoid at all times. I was amazed though, without this crying out. It wouldn't help, most certainly, and it won't accomplish anything.

Always the one to joke around in the face of danger, Rob stood up to Hochstetter with those goons holding him, looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Major, it'll be my privilege as well. Can I bring my spoon? It'll come in handy for my escape from Stalag 13." I could tell he was trying to be silly and sarcastic, as he sometimes gets, and I almost laughed, but kept it back as I did with my expressions of grief. The mood of the moment was too serious. And undeniably, it was frightening that for this comment, a guard hit Rob in the back and the face, dropping him to the floor of the barracks (more like being purposely thrown). He was bleeding at the mouth.

I was really fighting my first reaction of helping him instead of laughing at his response at such a grave situation. All the men afterward, I could tell, had to clash back the rage they felt and the impulse to beat this team of Gestapo away from our senior officer. But then, it won't help them.

"Take this man to the cooler!" Hochstetter yelled in disgust. "He'll be interrogated more tomorrow. We will make him crack!" I cringed to think about what they could do to Rob and kept my eyes on him.

The two guards that came through the doorway cruelly picked up Rob from the floor and dragged him along with them, leaving a bloody trail in the barracks and outside. The rest of the guards, guns in their hands still, marched out behind them, confident that they have last seen the end of Papa Bear. The prisoners then saw everyone leave until only Klink and Schultz remained, two comrades that somehow stick together no matter what. The prisoners then lowered their hands and all stared at me or the door (I felt their eyes glaze over me and it was grim). They didn't even notice that Schultz closed the door of the barracks and stood by our pathetic stove with Klink, who had moved there to warm his hands by the weak fire. Both of them appeared frightened by this episode, but never will they experience the chill of winter the same way as I was right now. Rob is gone. He's to be executed as a spy…we could all be next…what is going to happen next? What am I going to do with these men?

The room was silent for a while, until Klink broke the silence, the lone, echoing voice in what seemed to be an empty room. "Colonel Michalovich, you are now senior P.O.W. officer in this camp. As ranking officer of the prisoners in this camp…I and General Burkhalter ask that you attend a special meeting with us tomorrow night in his office in Berlin. We need to talk of grave matters and of your activities here at camp. A minor examination, if you want to call it that."

I couldn't believe my ears. Klink was asking me to a meeting with Burkhalter tomorrow night and was being serious about it? There was to be a meeting after this arrest? What did they want? More importantly, can they get Rob out of Hochstetter's hands and back into this camp again, or better, free? Are their thoughts on even that or the camp? My answer would depend on it. We could follow Rob's orders and we might all escape alive and leave Rob or at least see what's going on and try to rescue him and this operation, while keeping everyone alive. It was my decision.

"Kommandant, I am flattered and accept this invitation," I replied. "How would we get out, though?" My lips had a difficult time moving with the motion of words.

"Leave it all to me," Klink answered. He wasn't giving me any confidence because of who he is and what he can blunder.

Klink had achieved what he had wanted. So, he then elbowed Schultz suddenly and very rudely, the guard, of course, trying to push his way to the warmth. Klink motioned with some eagerness for him to leave along with him and they left. The cold that came in earlier has never been erased from my heart.

The room, true to my feelings, was still quiet as a graveyard when the pair left. Again, it was broken by a lone voice: LeBeau's. "Colonel…what are the orders?" There were no microphones around, we got them all debugged and always found the others posted by the Gestapo and so it was free to speak as we wished.

I turned to face that dear, mortified expression of LeBeau's. I was dubious what we should do. Should we all follow orders and escape as Rob wanted or stay and see what happens? I thought quickly before giving my answer. Klink and Burkhalter were obviously planning something, so this might work to our benefit. "I want everybody, and pass this along to all the other barracks, to start to pack and leave some things out. We don't want the Gestapo to become suspicious or have any more proof that we did anything, especially now. I'll go with Klink tomorrow night and see what he and the General want. This might or might not work to our advantage. I don't know yet, but I think that they might want some help in getting the Gestapo out of here. This wouldn't be the first time."

I stopped and paused, searching each prisoner's face for some sort of comfort, but finding none because they all needed it from me…and that reassurance, too. All, including Rob's crew of four, were nervous and wringing their hands. They all positioned themselves in attention for me. Then there was a sudden movement. Kinch got up from his seat and asked, "Colonel, is there anything that we can do right now? Is there any way we can help you at all?"

I gulped audibly. I was a nervous wreck (and still am) and replied, "Just stand by my orders and we'll see, depending on what Klink and Burkhalter want, what we'll do afterward. But, I promise you, as commanding officer here, that I'll do my best to keep everyone in line and…that everyone comes out of this alive and well. I can't keep any solid promises, but I'll try to get Colonel Hogan out, too. Have a good night, everyone." I tried to go back to Rob's quarters, my quarters now, but I found that I couldn't. I was so cold and my knees were shaking hard. I felt myself collapse to the floor of the barracks, frightened by this event and unable to move. I was in pain from my wounds and my neck was uneasy.

"Gov'ness!" "Colonel!" "Kommandant!" was all I heard before I let myself plunge to the floor and fall into my emotions, a deep, stabbing throb I never knew I had. I sobbed harder than I ever have before in my life and I never knew I had in me until I started. I was so scared at that point that it didn't that fifteen other men were looking to me for guidance, and already finding none. And all that pain still enveloped me.

I was held onto for a long time.

After everyone went to bed, still silent and worried about Rob, I snuck down to the tunnels. I knew it was safe at that time, for the guards usually tried to sneak out into town themselves even though they were suppose to watching us. Kinch was already down there, against Rob's orders, and was making sure that all the explosives are still in place and ready to detonate when the need arises. We still only have a few minutes before our bedcheck by the time we were done checking, so this might be done now or later, when we get out of here. It's better to make sure now than later, as I say. The quicker it is done, the quicker and easier we can get out, if necessary. It has to be with or without Rob, I thought as I verified that the last explosive was ready and in place. I just wished that it was the former.