Challenge fic: Hogan can't sing, so how do they keep him from doing so? May have another challenge element, we'll see where the muse takes me. German words from the German dictionary and German towns from Germany.
Legalese: I don't own, I borrow, but what I create is mine. ©Mistress V 2009.
Flattery Will Get You…Somewhere
by Mistress V
Wilhelm Klink sat at his desk, whose surface was barely visible due to the stacks of paperwork arranged in tidily lopsided piles. He'd left strict instructions with the latest in a long progression of earnest but hapless young NCO/secretaries to be left alone. Outside, the last days of summer beckoned through the open window; he allowed himself a quick daydream. In the not too distant past, before the war had once again disrupted the way of life he enjoyed, it would be a time for strolling in the park, visiting a Biergarten, or listening to an outdoorKonzert. With the proper female company, ja, natürlich.
Suddenly angry with himself for such ridiculous musings, Klink turned his attention back to the two opened letters sitting on top of the stacks of work that was being ignored. He'd been re-reading them for days now and still was unable to act.
The first was from Fraulein Helga. Klink frowned. Had she been gone only three months? It seemed so much longer. Sad to admit, without her cheerful presence and playful candor, the prospect of spring rolling into summer had been colorless at best. She'd regretfully submitted her resignation in order to care for her ailing Oma up in the pretty seaside town of Laboe. Klink had granted her request a bit sadly, though was pleased she would be close enough to Kiel so that the Kriegsmarine would afford protection, yet far enough removed so that the village might escape the worst of the Allied bombing runs.
Helga's odd notes had been bright and full of as much news as the censors allowed, much as any young woman might write to an older relative. It didn't matter, Klink fluffed himself up like a pouter pigeon any time one arrived. But gradually, they grew less frequent as her attention was…distracted.
Into the scenario had strolled a handsome Oberleutenant zur See, Ludwig Schnabel. A fine young man, no doubt, from what Klink had quickly learned through the military grapevine that grew all over Germany and beyond. He hailed not only from a long line of seagoing officers, but from the very village where Helga 's Oma resided. Klink imagined the couple, taking Sunday afternoon walks along the coast as safety permitted, even sharing a romantic picnic. He saw quite clearly the suitor presenting gifts of fine Polish ham, Dutch pickled herring and even Lübeck's finest marzipan…and Helga's delighted response. How could love not factor in?
Today's note was actually an official announcement of the pair's engagement. Helga sent along a formal portrait. Klink gazed at the two figures. His former secretary looked radiantly in love. Her fiancée's expression was proud, stern and enamored at the same time. But what drew Klink's attention was the full head of dark hair the young man sported. It contrasted nicely with the Tropen-und Sommeranzug he was wearing.
Old. Klink suddenly felt old. It was true, he was no longer a youth who could take over the world singlehandedly, but he was far from the corpulence of Albert Burkholter. He ran a hand over his bald pate. Hair, or lack of it, definitely factored into this ludicrous equation. Suddenly he felt that what he lacked in follicles made him less attractive to the female population, though he'd never had a problem in the past. It was just that he'd been so fond of Helga and look what she'd chosen? Try as he might, Klink could not ignore the obvious. If he was not careful, he'd find himself married off to Frau Linkmeyer, the quintessential altes Welb.
He forced his attention back to the present, more specifically, to the next letter. Permission had finally been granted for him to begin the search for a new secretary. The position would become available in September, just weeks away, so Klink knew the days ahead would be busy indeed. It would be nice to see female faces around the office, even if they were only candidates. But his thoughts soured as he imagined the Mädchen being distracted by any one of the younger men stationed at the camp, not to mention that pesky Hogan, who always managed to find his way into any woman's arms.
Klink was determined. He had to be prepared for the search process, had to make himself as presentable as possible---for that way the right woman would want to work for him, no question. He made mental notes. No more pilfered chocolate bars from the Red Cross packages, Schultz could have those. He needed to do some physical exercise, tone up his muscles and bring color to his pallid features. But the hair. There was no way around that, unless he wore his hat all the time. That would surely draw more attention than exposing his shining dome. Neither prospect appealed.
An idea slowly dawned on Klink. Impossible, he thought dismissively. No self-respecting German officer would even consider such a thing. Or…might they? He shrugged and made his way to the bookshelf where, hidden amongst some old sheet music, was an ancient Katalog he'd picked up during a long ago excursion during his student days. Friedrich's von Hamburg.
Klink made doubly sure the shades were drawn and the door locked, then sat down and opened the yellowing pages.
___________________
"You're certain Helga got engaged?" LeBeau repeated.
"As sure as the letter we steamed open the other night," Hogan replied. "To a navy man, no less. Nice looking, though, and I'm sure he'll make a fine husband for her. Helga always did strike me as the traditional type."
"So what's 'at got to do with Klnk?" Newkirk asked.
"The second letter we steamed was one from headquarters in Berlin. He's finally able to get that new secretary, but from what I've been hearing around the yard, Klink's kind of put off by the news Helga sent. He's feeling…old. And you know what that means!"
"But he *is* old. Well, older," Carter said, quickly remembering his commanding officer wasn't precisely a teenager, either. "And older men are more distinguished looking. I mean, all those movie stars in Hollywood have young women dripping off their arms."
"Klink's no movie star," Kinch reminded the group. "So what's the problem, sir?"
"Well, as I see it, if Klink keeps moping around, his productivity will slip. That'll attract the attention of our very own personal Gestapo nightmare, and Hochstetter might send him off to the Russian front. Who knows what we'd get in then? It's always been a possibility, but this time I'm worried. Klink's just not himself. Of course, he might decide to look super efficient and attract the wrong kind of secretary. A real one. And what if she wasn't so amenable to our little operation? Or what if Klink found out somehow? Or…Hochstetter?"
"She might tell 'im!" LeBeau drew a hand across his throat. "Sacre chat!"
"Precisely. We need to distract Klink, get him in a good mood so he hires the right kind of help. Here's what I had in mind," Hogan continued. "We put on a variety show. Everyone can participate, prisoners, guards, staff. Call it the 'End of Summer Follies.' What do you think?"
"But sir, we've had plenty of them before," Carter interrupted. "Usually to distract Klink from…something else."
The others nodded in agreement. Too often, the ruse of a lighthearted vaudeville evening had been a cover-up for something far more dramatic.
"E'd never buy it, sir," Newkirk agreed.
"Yes he will, this time." Hogan brought a fist into his palm, thinking aloud as he did so. "Klink can perform, whether it's his violin or some dramatic reading. That'll lift his spirits. And to make it completely legit, not only will I be sitting next to him for the whole evening, I'll even sing."
"Sing?" LeBeau nearly choked."You can't Colonel, you 'ave to be the master of ceremonies."
"Naah." Hogan warmed to the idea. "Newkirk here can have the honors. No, l'll join the Glee Club for their number, plus I'll do a solo. How about 'September in the Rain'? It's one of my favorites."
No one said a word. The prospect was even more chilling than the latest moonlit raid they'd been on.
"Good, you're all in agreement. I'll go tell Klink the good news right now. Let's say two weeks from Saturday?" Hogan waved and took off towards Klink's office, whistling dreadfully off key as he did so.
Carter soon found himself at the center of a group of very angry men. "Hey, what's the matter, guys?" he protested weakly.
"Idiot! Dummkopf!" LeBeau mixed insults as he grabbed the man's jacket collar. "You know the Colonel can't sing! What 'ave you done? "
TBC.