Not in My Pay Grade
based on photo prompt #5 and some quotes!
story cover image courtesy of Katbybee
Sergeant Brian Olsen was scared witless. Normally thought of as unflappable; some would say cocky, the Outside Man wished fervently that he was inside, safely tucked into his bunk in Barracks two.
He gazed up at the building in front of him, and then stole a glance at the "borrowed" Gestapo staff car, where his driver, an underground agent code-named Little John, offered a reassuring grin and nod. This did not help settle the butterflies in the sergeant's stomach.
HhHhH
"I'm not an outside operative!" he fruitlessly pointed out to the men in Barracks Two earlier that morning.
"Nonsense. You're outside all the time!" Kinch gave Olsen a friendly slap on the back and stepped aside, allowing Newkirk the time to adjust the black coat Olsen would wear on his mission.
"No. Yes. That's true. But, I'm usually at Oskar's farm, either hiding or helping him with rounds."
Olsen's cover when he was away from camp was, so far, foolproof. He was Oskar's nephew, Johann, a discharged former Wehrmacht soldier injured in battle. With Oskar's connections, and his vital occupation, it was easy to get Johann permission to work for the veterinarian, rather than remain in the army and go into a desk job. With his perfect German, his knowledge of the area, and his ability to blend in with the civilian population, Olsen reported on conditions in Hamelburg, troop movements, and anything else warranting the colonel's attention.
"I've never played a Nazi. Impersonating a Gestapo agent and walking into Gestapo headquarters…well…that's a whole other ballgame."
"The first time is the 'ardest." Newkirk brushed lint off Olsens shoulder. "I will admit. But, after a few goes, it gets easier."
"The four of us can't be the only ones infiltrating the Bosche," added LeBeau. "We can't use Foster; he's not ready to go outside the wire by himself. No one else is available. We've all been there too many times. We'll be recognized. Besides, thanks to my strudel and Schultz's mouth, we know Klink is planning extra surprise roll calls today."
"And I won't?" Olsen fingered his tie and shuddered at the thought of the Swastika pin he wore. "Be recognized?"
"Not a chance. Hochstetter has never seen you here. Besides, you've never looked this spiffy." Colonel Hogan had entered the room and was observing the exchange.
"Gee, thanks, sir," Olsen said, his tone both sullen and apprehensive.
"Carter?" Hogan pointed to his explosives expert. "Help him out."
"It's all in the attitude." Carter, the best actor in the group, approached Olsen and walked around him. "Pull your shoulders back, stand up straight, look them right in the eye, and start talking. You're no longer Olsen, you're OberstleutnantKurt Kannenburg. Now what do you say?"
"This is not in my pay grade?"
"Nothing we do here is in our pay grade," Hogan quipped, as the men in the room chuckled.
Olsen let out a sheepish grin and then cleared his throat. "I'm here to pick up one of your prisoners."
"No!" Carter said firmly. "Put more oomph into it. And arrogance." Carter walked over to the table, stopped and stated, "I'm here for one of your prisoners." He didn't shout, but the menance in his voice was obvious. Carter removed his glove and slapped it down on the table. "Make them jump. Now try again. Wait. Pretend I'm at the desk."
"I am here for one of your prisoners," Olsen said, this time with an air of self-importance.
"Better. Now try it with a sneer, and don't forget to look me in the eye. Again."
"I'm here for one of your prisoners. I have orders." He slapped the forged paperwork down on the table.
"That's much better!" Carter's smile lit up the room. It was both amusing and frightening to watch Carter's persona change on a dime. "Colonel?"
Hogan nodded. "Olsen, it's time to go."
"Funny-it doesn't seem like it's ten o'clock," Olsen mumbled as he headed for the tunnel entrance. He paused. "Wait. Who is this Gestapo officer? My old girlfriend-she used to act in community theater. She said you had to have a full character background, and..."
"He's you, that's who he is." Hogan gently prodded the sergeant into the tunnel. The two were followed by the rest of the core team. "We'll be manning the radio. Seriously, this is a good thing, Olsen," Hogan added, as he accompanied him down into the tunnel and over to the ladder. "Gives you more experience, and in case there is a problem when you're outside, you have another disguise you can fall back on."
"I suppose," Olsen agreed.
"Hey, mate. You'll never regret it, Unless someone shoots you," Newkirk joked.
"Newkirk!" Hogan admonished the corporal. "Not helping."
"Please don't scare me more than is absolutely necessary, fellas." Olsen offered a sheepish grin."
"Hey, good luck, kid." This came from the rescued airman taking up residence (and Olsen's place) in Barracks two while he waited for the right time to make his escape.
"Thanks, Ford." And Olsen was gone.
HhHhH
Now he stood alone in front of the imposing building. Dressed as a Gestapo agent. If he were caught, he'd be shot on the spot, or worse, taken into the building and tortured. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
Olsen thought of everything he had accomplished since being shot down and captured. Using his ties to Germany to help the Colonel's traveler's aide society. Risking his life each and every time he left camp in place of a downed airman. Teaching other prisoners German.
Let's assume you were going to die. If so, why not lose your life rescuing a courageous German civilian from the clutches of the regime. At least it would mean something. Olsen smiled grimly, and nodded to Little John. The underground agent had changed in the car, and he now left the vehicle and stood by Olsen's side.
"Ready, son?"
"Ready as any airman turned operative would be," Olsen replied.
Olsen took a deep breath, and followed by Little John, strode confidently into the building.
A/N: My portrayal and background of Olsen is based on my story exploring the character. See "The Outside Man."