Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters but they've graciously appeared in my stories anyway.
August 1943, Nazi Germany.
1000 hours local time.
It was supposed to be summer in Stalag 13, but to the men imprisoned there it felt more like the beginning of winter. Unseasonal storms were a double-edged sword, providing cover for clandestine activities but also making it more uncomfortable for the men who braved the weather.
Colonel Robert Hogan zipped his jacket a little higher and folded both hands around the mug of coffee that LeBeau poured for him. "You're supposed to change places with an agent in Berlin?" he repeated.
"That's right." The newcomer was no longer wearing his parachute harness from the drop, but his face showed traces of dark grease. "London received word that the Gestapo is suspicious of Kendall and they want him out. I'm supposed to take his place. Your part is to get him here and then back to England, and get me to Berlin."
LeBeau whistled softly from his place by the stove.
"Blimey, d'they think we're a taxi service?" a British accent floated down from the bunk by the door. "D'they know how many patrols there are between 'ere and Berlin? Can't be done, Colonel!"
"Newkirk, may I remind you that we're under orders?" Hogan retorted. "Okay, it's a bit different—we usually get people out of Germany, not into it, but we'll think of something. Kinch, take Smith here down the tunnel until we're ready to move."
"Sure thing, Colonel." The tall, African-American sergeant tapped the catch to the tunnel entrance, and the bunk mattress lifted into the air.
"Oh, and Kinch? Try to make contact with Kendall and tell him to be ready to move at a moment's notice."
"Will do." Sgt. Kinchloe vanished into the tunnel with Smith in tow.
Hogan sipped his coffee and contemplated the problem he now had on his hands. "Where's Carter?"
"Down in the tunnel tryin' to blow us all sky-'igh," Newkirk told him.
"He's still working on those new detonators," LeBeau complained. "The last explosion he set off nearly made my cake fall."
"Well, we better think of some way to switch these guys. I'll be in my office if anyone wants me."
He barely had time to rise from the rough wooden table before the door creaked open and the round figure of the German sergeant Schultz marched into the room, slamming the door behind him.
"Guten morgen! You are baking a cake, LeBeau? What kind?"
"Apple crumb, if it doesn't fall," the Frenchman replied pessimistically. "Don't you ever knock, Schultzie?"
"Ja, but I smelled the cake and I did not want to waste time," the barracks guard said in a dignified tone. "Colonel Hogan, the kommandant wishes to see you in his office. He is—" he paused for effect and rolled his 'r's "ver-r-r-y upset."
"Oh? What about?" Hogan asked casually.
"I know nothing—" Schultz broke off as a piece of licorice appeared between Hogan's fingers. "Licorice," he sighed. "Colonel Klink is afraid—"
"What's new about that?" Newkirk interrupted. "Klink's scared of 'is own shadow."
"He has just heard that Frau Linkmeyer is no longer going to marry the Wehrmacht captain. He has also heard that Frau Linkmeyer is visiting friends in Hamilburg, and he is worried that she will come after him," the sergeant said in a rush, and was rewarded by the licorice.
"Well, I don't want to keep our beloved kommandant waiting," Colonel Hogan set down his coffee mug, adjusted his hat, and herded Schultz out.
Luftwaffe Colonel Wilhelm Klink was pacing around his office with his riding crop under his arm when Hogan entered.
"You wanted to see me, Kommandant?" He casually opened the box of cigars on the desk but jerked his hand back when Klink slammed the box shut.
"I've got a big problem, Hogan, and I don't need to put up with your monkeyshines," he snapped, dropping into his desk chair.
"Your problem wouldn't be about five foot two and related to General Burkhalter, would she?"
"How did you know?" Klink looked up miserably. "That fat idiot Schultz, I suppose."
"You called for me because you know that I've helped you in the past." Hogan once again reached for a cigar, and this time he was successful. "You want me to get rid of Gertrude for you."
"Yes, yes!" Klink nodded so hard he nearly lost his monocle. "Do you have any ideas?" Absentmindedly he lit the cigar with his own lighter.
"I'm thinking." Hogan sat down uninvited in the chair opposite Klink's desk and pondered his own problem of how to move the agents until a solution dawned. "I've got it!"
"What is it? What should I do?" Klink demanded.
"It'll be difficult," Hogan warned him, gesturing with the smoking cigar.
"Not nearly as difficult as standing at the altar with that woman!" Klink was nearly whimpering.
"You'll have to find a girl—a nice girl—to take out to dinner, and they're in short supply around here. This is a prison camp, after all." He stretched his arms above his head while Klink chewed his thumbnail in an effort to think. "There's one in your outer office," he muttered after a few minutes, rolling his eyes. Was it possible for anyone to be as dense as Klink?
"Of course! Fraulein Hilda! Thank you Hogan, you may go, and send my secretary in here when you leave."
"Just a minute! You haven't heard the rest of my plan yet! You'll need a sure-fire way for her to hear about your evening, and that's where I come in. I'm your witness."
"You?" Klink demanded. "How are you going to—"
"I'll go along with you and Hilda," Hogan announced casually. "I'm sure she knows a girl she could invite along for me. Don't forget to order champagne."
"Prisoners of war don't go out on dates! And why a friend of Hilda's? Is there some monkey business going on?"
"Simple," Hogan shrugged. "I thought she'd know someone. Unless you'd prefer I sit and play chaperone all evening—and I'm sure you don't want that."
"Colonel Hogan!" Klink snapped. "I can't think of a more miserable way to spend an evening than to have you as a third on a date! All right, ask Hilda to bring along a friend. I'll make reservations at the Hofbrau for tonight. Diiiss-missed!"
Hogan stood to leave. "Tomorrow would be more convenient, sir."
"Okay, tomorrow night then! What does it matter to you? You don't have anywhere to go."
"Actually, the Escape Committee meets tonight, and I don't want to miss it." He swept out the door before Klink could make a retort.
Hilda was busily typing a stack of reports in the outer office, but when Hogan sat on a corner of her desk she paused in her work to smile at him.
"Hey, honey, how would you like to have dinner with me at the Hofbrau?" he asked cheerfully.
"But you're a prisoner," she protested mildly, not sounding at all surprised by the suggestion. He'd sprung some wild schemes on the Germans over the years he'd been a prisoner.
"Klink wants my help on a little rescue project."
"Protecting him from Frau Linkmeyer again?" The words carried a knowing lilt. Among the crowded conditions of a P.O.W camp, rumors were as abundant as vermin.
"Yeah. Now listen. Klink is gonna ask you out, and I'm supposed to have you bring along a girl for me. I'll bring a date for Klink, and you and I can spend a nice evening together. How 'bout it?"
She tilted her head to the side and flashed a smile. "All right."
"Thatagirl." He dropped a bar of genuine American chocolate on her desk and left the office whistling under his breath.
Col. Hogan strode briskly across the compound, waving Newkirk and Carter away from their game of horseshoes. They followed him into the barracks without question and joined the others in Hogan's office.
"Okay, guys, I've got it!" He clapped his hands together once and then began to outline his plan. Four faces stared back at him with varying sceptical frowns. "What's the matter?"
"Well, Colonel, it sounds a little . . . ambitious." Newkirk protested. "Maybe you oughta have a nice cuppa tea and think of somethin' else."
"Boy, you can say that again!" Carter piped up. "How're you gonna convince Klink to go out with Gertrude? He'll flip!"
"He doesn't know that it's the Iron Maiden," Hogan explained, slightly impatiently. "He thinks he's having dinner with Hilda. Now the timing of this whole operation has to be exact. Kinch, did you make contact with Kendall?"
"He's standing by for instructions," Kinch acknowledged.
"Right. Tell him to switch places with Burkhalter's driver—the underground can help him with that. Then get Frau Linkmeyer's hotel on the phone and invite her to dinner with Klink tomorrow night at the Hofbrau."
"Okay," the sergeant agreed with a shrug of his shoulders that implied it wasn't his fault if the mission went south.
"Tomorrow you get on the phone to Klink and tell him that there's an Allied agent on the loose, and have him use the troops guarding the research lab outside Hamilburg to search-that's the same lab that the underground reported to us yesterday. Then call Burkhalter and tell him you've left Klink in charge. That'll bring him in a hurry."
"Will do, but just one question, sir. Why bring in the troops?"
"Because you and LeBeau are going to blow up the lab when the troops leave. Carter, make sure they've got explosives and detonators."
"You got it, boy—sir."
"Newkirk, Carter, you'll go out as Gestapo, with Smith in a German uniform. You stop Burkhalter's car on the road, arrest Kendall, and tell Burkhalter that Smith is his temporary replacement."
"That way there won't be a search for Kendall when he disappears," LeBeau finished for him, catching onto the plan.
"Right. And, Smith will have the 'Gestapo' vouching for his loyalty, so Burkhalter won't be suspicious."
"Where does your date in town with Klink fit into all of this?" LeBeau asked.
Hogan screwed his face up in disgust. "Please, LeBeau! You make it sound as though I'm spending the evening with him for pleasure. I'm giving Klink an alibi, getting him out of camp so he can't interfere with the mission, and getting Gertrude off his back for him. Burkhalter is going to be so angry with Klink that he'll cart his sister back to Berlin. All business."
"Don't tell Hilda that your night out with her is all business," Kinch ribbed.
Kinch waited until he received word that Klink was dozing in his office before he made his phone call. Sitting comfortably in the tunnel's radio room with his feet on a table, he listened to the phone ring and rehearsed his speech.
"Stalag 13, heil Hitler, Colonel Klink speaking?"
"Klink? This is General Kinchmeyer, General Staff, Berlin," the tall black sergeant snarled into the phone.
"Oh! General! What a great pleasure it is to hear from you General," Klink blathered.
"Shut up and listen!" he shouted. "An Allied agent working in Berlin has escaped. I want you to be on the lookout for him. Use whatever troops are in your area to search—even the ones from the research lab if necessary!"
"Yes General, you can depend on me General."
"I doubt it," Kinch growled. "That is all Klink. I don't care how you do it, just find that agent!" He shrieked the last words and then slammed the phone down, looking up to meet Newkirk's laughing eyes.
"That ought to do it," Newkirk grinned. "'Ope Burkhalter's as easy to convince."
Kinch was already putting the call through. "General Burkhalter, heil Hitler. This is Oberleutnant Kinchmeyer, personal aide to Reichsfuhrer Himmler. Ja, I am calling about an agent that has apparently escaped from Berlin and may be heading toward Hamilburg. I have contacted your man there, a Colonel Fink—"
"Do you mean Klink?" Burkhalter asked with a heavy sigh, as though the name conjured unpleasant images.
"Ja, that was it," Kinch agreed. "I have left him in charge of the search in his area, but you are his superior officer so I am notifying you. His success or failure will reflect directly on you. Do you understand Herr Himmler's meaning?"
"Absolutely. I will take personal charge of the search at once," Burkhalter vowed.
The two P.O.W.s exchanged grins as Kinch hung up the phone.
Hogan was giving a final tug to his tie when Schultz entered his room. "Colonel Hogan, the car is waiting, and Kommandant Klink and Fraulein Hilda are ready to leave," he announced. "I am to go with you to pick up your lady friend to see that you do not escape."
"Sure, Schultz." He checked his uniform jacket and flipped his cap onto his head.
"Please tell me there will be no escape," the enormous guard pleaded apprehensively, and Hogan almost felt sorry for him.
"Well, I won't escape," he promised cheerfully. "Klink might want to by the night's end though."
Schultz checked over his shoulder before he replied. "Him, we can do without."
When they arrived at the Hofbrau Schultz stopped the car and opened the doors for Klink and Hilda, while Hogan stayed in the vehicle.
"Now Schultz, you are not to let Hogan out of your sight, is that clear?" the Nazi colonel ordered.
"Ja wohl," Schultz saluted as well as he could with his large stomach shoved behind a steering wheel and then drove away from the curb. "Where to, Colonel Hogan?"
"Just down the street at the hotel. She'll be waiting outside."
Abruptly Schultz slammed his foot on the brake, throwing them both forward. "Colonel Hogan," he whimpered. "I see only one woman outside the hotel. Please tell me it is not her."
"Who isn't who, Schultz?" Hogan hid his grin as a short, stern-faced woman several years his senior moved toward the car.
"It is Frau Linkmeyer." The sergeant closed his eyes as though hiding. "Kommandant Klink is going to kill me."
"Why should he? You had nothing to do with it."
"Doesn't matter. He will find a reason anyway."
The first person Hogan saw when he entered the restaurant dining room was Hilda, sitting at a table for four with a longsuffering expression on her face. Klink had his back to them, but when she looked up he stood and turned around.
"Good evening—" his face collapsed, almost dropping his monocle. "Frau Linkmeyer?"
The look he sent Hogan's way could have cut glass, but it failed to affect its intended recipient. As the others exchanged greetings, he blithely shifted the chairs so that he would be seated next to Hilda, leaving Klink to take the position beside Frau Linkmeyer.
"Guten abend, Wilhelm. It was so kind of you to invite me," Gertrude smiled up at Klink.
"Me? I mean, it was my pleasure." Klink managed a grimace in response and then scowled at Hogan again, who grinned innocently back and wondered how his men were faring.
Carter and Newkirk were dressed as Gestapo agents, standing on the dark road to Stalag 13, stamping their feet in an effort to keep warm. Smith was a short distance away, wearing the uniform of a German soldier.
"What happens if Burkhalter doesn't take this road?" Carter asked suddenly.
Newkirk looked disgusted. "Then we got a 'eap of trouble, don't we? You would 'ave to think of something like that." He tipped his companion's cap forward over his eyes.
As Carter straightened the hat, a set of headlights came sweeping around the corner and bore down on them. "Get ready, Smith," Newkirk ordered.
"Righto. I say, you chaps have a smashing organization to be able to pull something like this off," Smith put in, gesturing vaguely at his costume. "But this is a rather wild scheme, don't you think?"
"Actually, this one's tame compared to some things we've done," Carter chuckled. "You shoulda seen the time we blew up—" His last words were drowned out by a squeal of tires and brakes as the car slammed to a stop.
The driver rolled down his window. "General Burkhalter is on his way to Stalag 13," he snapped.
"Gestapo." Newkirk's voice was harsh, and no one would have recognized it as the same Cockney accent that had spoken moments before. "Out of the car, bitte."
The rotund general opened his door and stuck his head out. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
"Bitte, Herr General," Newkirk apologized. "We have just received a tip that your driver is under suspicion as an Allied agent. A Colonel Plink contacted us—"
"Not Klink!" the general screeched.
"Ja, Klink was the name," Carter agreed simperingly.
"That dummkopf," Burkhalter complained as Carter hauled Kendall from the car. The British agent offered no protest or resistance as Newkirk waved Smith over.
"We have a replacement driver for you. This man will be taken to headquarters for questioning."
"What business does Klink have interfering with my staff? He will hear of this, I assure you!"
"Ja wohl, heil Hitler!" Both P.O.W.s saluted and stepped back as Smith took over the driver's seat of the car. "Enjoy your visit to Stalag 13," Carter added.
The only reply he received was a grunt and a slammed door. The car roared away, splattering mud in all directions, and the 'Gestapo' melted into the woods with their 'prisoner'.
There was no sign of troops around the research lab, but LeBeau and Kinch inspected the area carefully before they moved in.
"Looks good to me." Kinch lowered his binoculars and checked the explosives in a sack over his shoulder.
LeBeau nodded. "Let's go."
It was a fairly simple matter to cut through the wire fence, attach a pack of dynamite to each corner of the building marked Sächlich, and set the timers on Carter's detonators. They finished the task in record time and found a place in the woods to observe the results of their handiwork.
"Seven, six, five," LeBeau counted the seconds down on his watch. His "four" was cut off by the explosion.
"How do you like that?" Kinch groused. "His detonators blow up early!"
"He better come up with something more reliable for the next job! I wonder how Colonel Hogan is getting on?"
At that same moment Colonel Hogan was sipping a glass of champagne and watching Klink dither in the clutches of Frau Gertrude Linkmeyer.
"Such lovely music they have here," she said, patting his shoulder firmly.
He jolted and spilled his drink. "Yes. It's perfect for dancing?" The words were addressed hopefully across the table to Hilda.
Hogan bobbed to his feet with a smug smirk and held out his hand. "Hear that, Hilda? I think the grownups are hinting that they want to be alone."
She took his hand with a smile and he led her away without looking back at the crestfallen Klink.
"Grownups?" he heard Klink whine. "He's only a few years younger than me!"
"Don't you ever feel sorry for poor Colonel Klink?" Hilda teased.
Hogan grinned. "All the time. But it doesn't stop me."
He wasn't surprised when Klink called an early end to the evening, making sure that he and Hilda stopped dancing and returned to the table only after Klink had paid the check for them.
"Can we offer you a ride somewhere?" he asked Frau Linkmeyer with insincere politeness.
"Ja, danke, I am returning to Stalag 13 with you," she replied.
Klink exchanged a horrified look with Hogan. "Stalag 13? Hoo-gaan!" The last word was hissed under his breath.
"I will meet my brother there and return with him to Berlin," she announced, and swept out to the car where Schultz was dozing.
Hogan said a hasty goodbye to Hilda and prodded the reluctant kommandant into the car. The trip back to camp was accomplished in stony silence.
He was pleased to see Burkhalter's staff car parked outside Klink's office, with Smith in the driver's seat as though they had just arrived. The agent showed no sign of recognizing him as he passed.
Newkirk slipped around the corner of the building and motioned to him. Hogan unobtrusively stepped out of the lights. "Everything go okay?" he asked in a low voice.
"Perfect," Newkirk assured him. "Kinch and LeBeau just got back and said the lab's totally destroyed. We just put a call through to Burkhalter in Klink's office—it's the brass tellin' 'im what 'appened. 'E'll be ready to chew ol' Klink up and spit 'im out."
"Good work," Hogan replied. "I had them put a couple bottles of champagne and some supper in the back of the car and put it on Klink's bill. You guys have earned it."
"Thanks, Colonel." Newkirk melted back into the shadows.
Klink looked around and saw Hogan casually leaning against the wall. "Back to your barracks, Hogan," he snapped. "You've done enough damage for one night."
"Sure, if you feel like facing Burkhalter by yourself—" Hogan paused for effect. "With Gertrude for support, of course."
"You're coming with me!" Klink grabbed his arm and almost hauled him inside to where Burkhalter waited in the inner office.
"Ah! General Burkhalter!" Klink saluted and then adjusted his monocle. "We're so happy to see you General! To what do we owe this pleasure sir?"
"It is never a pleasure to see you Klink," Burkhalter retorted. "Hello, Gertrude. Hogan, what are you doing here?"
"Hi, General," Hogan grinned impishly at him. "We've been on a date. What brings you here?"
"What?" Burkhalter's face turned redder and his eyes bulged. "Klink! What kind of camp are you running here?"
"An escape-proof one, sir," the kommandant whimpered.
"Hmph. Gertrude, would you wait in the outer office? I have something to say to this dummkopf which you may not wish to hear."
"What dummkopf?" she asked. "Albert, you know that I don't like you to talk about Wilhelm like that." Hogan saw Klink visibly cringe, as though weighing the evils of Gertrude against Russians and icicles.
The general swung back to face his helpless colonel. "What does this mean, Klink? You order my car stopped and my driver arrested—do you think I harbour criminals on my staff?"
"B-b-but," Klink stammered.
"Shut up Klink! You call out the troops from the research lab to search for this traitor that the Gestapo have already arrested, leaving the lab unguarded!"
"Herr General, I had orders from General—the Gestapo?"
Burkhalter ignored him. "Not five minutes ago I received a call telling me that saboteurs have blown up the research lab! You had better start learning Russian, Klink! You are going to need it."
"Please, General . . ." Klink moaned helplessly.
"Ah, General Burkhalter, it seems pretty obvious that Colonel Klink isn't entirely to blame for this," Hogan intervened coolly.
"What do you mean?" he snapped, spinning around faster than Hogan thought possible for a man of his plentiful girth.
"Well, he received the orders from someone in Berlin to use the troops if necessary, so he can't be held totally responsible for that. But what I think the Gestapo will focus on—" he wagged his finger sternly for emphasis, "is how they actually found the agent. You did say he was in your car sir?"
The general went from bright red to pasty white. "Berlin would know that I had nothing to do with—maybe I've been hasty in blaming you, Klink."
"Then you won't be leaving, Wilhelm," Gertrude latched hold of his arm and showed her slightly yellowed teeth as she smiled up at him. "I will know exactly where to find you."
It was Klink's turn to pale, and he cowered slightly. "Well, anything's possible," he muttered.
"Excuse me for interrupting," Hogan butted in, figuring he should do something to prevent the addition of Frau Linkmeyer to the camp staff. "General, you wouldn't interfere with the happiness of two people just because you're mad at Colonel Klink, would you?"
"Whose happiness?" Burkhalter demanded.
"Your sister and Colonel Klink, of course. I mean, just because you're angry at Klink for bringing down the wrath of the Gestapo on your head, and he's bungled the lab security, is no reason to deny him a place in your family. Please don't keep him from happiness, sir."
"Don't be too sure about that," the general snapped. "Klink, you will never have a place in my family. Gertrude, you will return with me to Berlin at once!"
He swept out with his sister in tow, leaving Klink sputtering protests behind them. Hogan only waited for the door to bang shut before he poured himself a drink from the decanter on the desk.
"He blames me for everything," Klink moaned. "And it's all your fault, Hogan!"
"My fault!" He savoured the drink, refilled the glass, and poured another for Klink, who took it absentmindedly.
"Yes, your fault! You invited Frau Linkmeyer to dinner, and I had to sit with her while you danced with Hilda all evening."
"So?"
"So someone ordered the most expensive meal on the menu and ate enough for five men, and I had to pay the check!"
Hogan filled his glass a third time, ignoring Klink's raised one. "You think it was Gertrude?"
"Who else?" Klink threw up his hand in disgust. "She's a Burkhalter like her brother and she looks like one."
"Of course. Who else could it be?" Hogan tapped his full glass against the empty one Klink held, swallowed the drink in one gulp, and saluted.