Disclaimer: I don't own Hogan's Heroes.
Kinch admired the smooth, creamy ivories as he ran a dust rag over them and in between the ebony keys. It was such a lovely instrument. It was a shame that Klink didn't play - though, perhaps considering his, erm... skill with the violin it was for the best. Still it was a real pity that this old girl hadn't had her keys tickled recently. He wondered if she was in tune. He looked over his shoulder - he was, of course, alone in the room. Schultz was watching over the office cleaning with Newkirk and LeBeau, who he considered more likely to cause trouble. Kinch wondered if the sound would carry over if he played just a little bit…
Not able to resist any longer, he sat on the bench, stretched his dexterous fingers and began to play. It was soft at first and a bit hesitant; but soon the old familiar melodies came back. He played his favorite jazz numbers, then a couple of classics and before too long he was playing - at a normal volume - the songs of his family, of his people. He couldn't help himself, he began to sing…
*~Steal away, steal away, ~
~steal away to Jesus!~
~Steal away, steal away home,~
~I ain't got long to stay here.~
His powerful voice brought the song to life, blending with the rich notes from the piano. It pulled him back to his childhood - to the piano his mother had in her little parlor. He could see her smiling face as she sat with him at the piano. She would make him practice daily, setting off the metronome and guiding him through the scales. One hour everyday he'd play.
~My Lord, He calls me, ~
~He calls me by the thunder;~
~The trumpet sounds within my soul, ~
~I ain't got long to stay here.~
The pride and joy that radiated off of her and Dad while he sat at the organ in Church. The memory warmed his soul even though he felt a twinge of nostalgia. He ached with longing for home, for family and friends, for his church and community.
~Steal away, steal away,~
~steal away to Jesus!~
~Steal away, steal away home,~
~I ain't got long to stay here.~
His voice cracked on the last note, emotion consuming him as the notes from the piano faded. He stayed that way for a moment savoring every bit of it until the sound of clapping jarred him back to the here and now.
Klink had come in not long after he'd started playing. He watched in fascination as Sergeant Kinchloe's fingers actually danced across the keys, switching seamlessly from tune to tune. He appreciated the melodies as only a fellow musician can and when the last note sounded, he couldn't help but express that appreciation.
"That was marvelous, Sergeant Kinchloe," he said, moving further into the center of the room. "And from memory? Very impressive."
Kinch had stood quickly and moved from the behind the piano. "Thank you, sir," he murmured. His body tensed as if expecting something more.
"Do you know any classical music? Bach or Beethoven, for example?" he asked. Without waiting for a response, he continued, "There are so many lovely piano and violin sonatas. I haven't played with piano accompaniment in many years. Perhaps you would be able to accompany me sometime. It would make for quite lovely entertainment at my next party."
Kinch's face relaxed slightly, relieved that he wasn't in trouble. "I'm not sure your guests would appreciate me playing the piano, Commandant," he said gently.
Klink's smile froze as he realized what Kinchloe was not directly saying. Of course, he was correct. Klink had heard the stories and opinion that were floated through the parties and Berlin meetings. Coloured soldiers were often executed directly upon capture and those that weren't, were sent to camps where they were segregated. He remembered the Rhineland bastards*; the propaganda that the Reich printed in every newspaper, broadcasted on every radio program, showed in every cinema regarding the 'inferior race'. What muck! Klink looked down, his disappointment and disgust allowed to display itself for just a moment before being subsequently compartmentalized. Once these thoughts were neatly tucked away and obscured from view, he looked up meeting the other man's gaze.
"You are quite right, Sergeant. What a pity, " he said, a polite smile flashed then disappeared. "Dismissed."
Kinch bobbed his head in deference and headed for the door, stopping when he heard his name called again.
"Tell Colonel Hogan that I want you assigned to clean my quarters every other week," Klink said, pulling the lid down over the piano. "I want this piano cleaned and kept in tune, understood?"
The question was pointed and Kinch suppressed a smile. Yes, he'd understood. Twice a month he'd be able to play under the guise of making sure it was properly tuned. He nodded and Klink waved him on. As he stepped into the bright sunshine he felt it warming him down to his bones as he crossed the compound to barracks two. Perhaps Schultz wasn't the only decent German he'd met in this war.
*'Steal Away' is a spiritual song dating back to 1862, written by Wallace Willis. My personal favorite version was recorded by Nat King Cole and can be found on the YouTube.
*At the end of WW1, the Treaty of Versailles dictated that the Allies would occupy an area of Germany known as the Rhineland. This occupying force was mainly French and a number of them were Colonial Forces from Africa. Many German women became involved with and/or married these men, producing biracial children who were dubbed the 'Rhineland Bastards'. As Hitler swept into power, a lot of focus was put on these children for their 'soiling of the Aryan race' and they were forced into sterilization programs. In 1937 approximately 500 children were sterilized, even those as young as 11.