"Well," Carter said, adjusting the satchel on his shoulder as he hurried through the woods, still half hidden by the night. "This's really been a hard day's night."
Newkirk, following close behind, rolled his eyes. "Are you crackers? What does that mean?"
Carter gave him a puzzled look. "What?"
"That a hard night's day, or whatever ruddy nonsense you said."
The American shivered as the winter wind cut through his sabotage clothes "It just came to me. I was thinking about how much work it was making those charges this morning, and having to blow up that munitions train tonight. So, we worked a hard day's night."
Newkirk shook his head, wiping away the sweat chilling his forehead. "You ought to have your loaf examined if you ask me."
"Help!" a faint voice cried. "Help!"
Carter stopped, grabbing Newkirk's arm. "What was that?"
The corporal frowned. "What was what?"
Carter cocked his head, listening. "Funny, I could've sworn I heard something."
Newkirk brushed past his friend. "It's probably your imagination." He rubbed and blew on his hands. "Let's get going. The damp's setting in me bones."
The sergeant shrugged. "Okay. I sure hope LeBeau's got some hot coffee waiting for us."
Newkirk nodded. "And a cup of tea for me. I'm not drinking any of that rot you call coffee."
"Help!"
Both men stopped.
"You heard it too?" Carter whispered.
Newkirk looked around and pointed to his left. "Look at that. The fool on the hill over there."
Moonlight broke through the cloud, revealing a figure dangling from a parachute hopelessly snagged in a fur tree. "He must've bailed out of one of the bombers we saw earlier," Carter said. "Boy, he's really tangled up."
Newkirk clicked his tongue as the figure writhed against a mass of cords and silk. "He's lucky he hasn't broken his neck, the way he's bouncing about."
Carter started for the hill. "We've gotta help him before the Krauts find him."
Newkirk sighed. "That's right, we're in the ruddy hero business. "Well, let's fetch him and get back to camp."
"Help!" the man called. "Help!"
"Leave off!" Newkirk hissed. "You want to wake up every Jerry in the neighbourhood?"
The airman grinned when he spotted his rescuers. "Oh, thank heavens," he said, his voice ragged. "I've been up here so long, I almost didn't care who found me. It's good to hear a fellow Englishman's voice, though. Where are you from, London?"
Newkirk frowned. "Never mind me. How do we know you're not a Kraut in disguise?"
The man's face fell. "Oh dear. How can I convince you?"
Newkirk narrowed his eyes. "What's a Helter Skelter?"
The other man laughed. "A child's slide, of course."
The corporal nodded. "All right, but I'm still keeping me eye on you though."
"Can you get free?" Carter asked, scanning the bush around them for any sign of a patrol.
The Englishman glanced at his right arm, covered in cords. "Afraid not lads. I've been trying for awhile with no luck. I was at my wits end until I saw you."
Carter peered up at the cherub face several yards above him. "One of us will have to climb up and cut you down." He stepped on a low branch, and, testing its sturdiness, started to climb. "Newkirk, I'll go. You be ready to catch him just in case."
"Carter, get back here!" Newkirk growled. "What do I look like, a feather bed? What if I drop him?"
Carter gave no reply as he hurried up the tree. The other Englishman's eyes widened when the sergeant appeared at his side. "My, you're an amazing bloke, aren't you? You climb as well as a squirrel."
"I used to climb trees all the time at home." Carter cocked his head. "Boy, you're really tangled up. I'll have to cut all these cords."
The Englishman swayed as the wind blew around him. "Cut away. I can't ruddy well stay up here, now can I?"
The tree groaned, its needles crackling as Carter shifted his weight and pulled out a pocketknife. "How did you end up up here?"
"My crew was flying over Hammelburg when some ack-ack took out our engines." His right arm flopped down when Carter sawed through the cords holding it. "Have you found some of my mates? I was so busy trying not to get shot, I didn't see if they made it."
Newkirk shook his head. "No, but they could be kilometers away from here." Or the Krauts might've picked them up already.
Carter looked at the man's other arm. "Can you walk?"
The Englishman nodded. "I feel fine. Just a little tired and hungry."
"Good." The American climbed up another branch and, balancing himself, grabbed the last of the twisted cords. "You'll be free as a bird soon, but you're going to have to fall the last few yards. Are you ready?"
He smiled back. "I'll have a go at it."
"Okay, Newkirk, get ready," Carter called down, cutting. "On the count of three. One, two, three."
The Englishman plummeted and slammed into Newkirk, who moaned as they hit the ground.
"Oh my," the free man murmured. "That was a bit of a jolt. It feels good to have my feet on the ground, though."
"That isn't the ground you've got your feet on, mate," Newkirk grumbled, his head pounding.
He bolted up. "Sorry. Let me help you up, old chap." Newkirk winced as the other man yanked him up and brushed him off. "You don't know how grateful I am you found me. I'm going to send you something nice when I get home. How about a tin of the best shortbread biscuits you'll ever eat? My grandmother's part Scot, so she's got a recipe that'll tickle your teeth from now till St. Swithin's Day."
Newkirk rubbed his back, soreness creeping into his muscles. "Shortbread's me favourite, especially with a cup of Earl Grey."
The man brushed his blond mustache. "That's the only way to have it if you ask me." He looked up, watching Carter's descent. "Good show, although something tells me you blokes have done this before."
"We have," Carter replied, the grass crunching under his feet as he hopped off the last branch. "You could say we're in the escape business."
The Englishman extended his hand. "Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing, if I may ask?"
Newkirk took it. "Corporal Newkirk. The bloke who cut you down is Sergeant Carter, a yank."
He smiled. "I'm Corporal Kite, and much obliged to you gents. If you could tell me where there's a place I can get a meal and some sleep, I'll be on my way. "
Carter's fingers cracked as he wiped them on his pants. "Come with us. We'll look after you."
Kite paused. "Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother."
Newkirk clapped his back. "Not at all. It's all part of our job. We're like Robin Hood and his merry band."
Kite grinned. "Smashing! I've got a feeling about you chaps. A very good feeling."
***break***
"Colonel Hogan is far too smug for his own good," Hochstetter muttered, tapping his leather gloves on his hands as he paced around Klink's office.
"What did you say, Major?" Klink asked, pouring two glasses of schnapps by his filing cabinet.
Hochstetter turned to the man he despised most after the American. "I said Colonel Hogan is far too smug for his own good."
Klink's happy face became strained as he handed one of the glasses to General Burkhalter, who sat behind Hochstetter. "I wouldn't be so sure of that major."
Hochstetter's jaw tensed. "Well, I am sure. Otherwise I wouldn't have called this meeting tonight."
Burkhalter gulped the liquor down. "Is that why you dragged me out of bed at this hour?" he growled. "Not that I mind. Usually, I'm only sleeping at this time of night."
Hochstetter pace quickened. "As you know, Herr General, I've investigated this camp's connection to several acts of sabotage for quite some time. I've always suspected Colonel Hogan was behind them, but I've never been able to prove it."
Klink waved his hand. "Impossible. How could Colonel Hogan be behind any sabotage when there's never even been a successful escape from Stalag 13?"
"I know all about your record, Klink!" Hochstetter snarled. "Anyone with a set of ears knows about it!"
Klink returned to his chair, withering under the Gestapo officer's glare.
Burkhalter motioned for another drink. "As you say, Major, you've never proven Hogan's behind anything."
Hochstetter stiffened. "Yes, but there's someone who can. Do you know Colonel Krug of the Gestapo?"
The general shifted in his seat. "No, but I've heard of him. He has quite the reputation in Berlin for his investigation tactics." He lowered his voice. "And his personal habits."
The major stopped pacing in front of Klink, who'd gone back to the schnapps bottle. "That's right. And thanks to my superiors, he's coming to this camp tomorrow to help me prove Hogan's guilty."
Klink's eyes widened. He started to speak until Burkhalter's hand rose. "Your superiors must know Colonel Krug very well, Major. He rarely does anyone favours."
Hochstetter grinned in a manner reminiscent of a barracuda. "They made the necessary arrangements when I reminded them I know about certain indiscretions of theirs."
Klink shuddered. He'd often wondered if the man ever smiled. Now, he hoped he'd never do it again.
Hochstetter leaned toward Klink, his palms turning white as he twisted his gloves. "We'll meet him when he arrives at this camp tomorrow."
Klink recoiled, swallowing the foul taste in his mouth as he handed Burkhalter his drink. "You can't be serious, Major Hochstetter."
Hochstetter's grin widened. "I'm deathly serious. The last time I was here, investigating the disappearance of a Luftwaffe code book from your office, you and Hogan had me running here, there, and everywhere. I should have known better than to listen to Hogan's stories of masked men robbing you when you went into town the night before."
Burkhalter scowled. "How would Hogan know anything about it, Klink?"
Klink gave his superior officer a pleading look. "I can explain, Herr General."
Burkhalter rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure you can. I'm not even sure you can think for yourself." He glared at Hochstetter. "So, tell me why you asked me here, Major. You could have saved the pleasure of dragging officers out of bed in the middle of the night for Klink."
Hochstetter looked out the window. "You see, General, I'm so tired of making reports to Berlin about this camp and having my superiors laugh in my face. This time, I'll have an impartial officer seen me proven right!" He headed for the schnapps bottle, poured himself a glass and raised it. "To the end of Colonel Hogan!"
***break***
Kinch unplugged the coffee pot in Hogan's quarters. "Well, Colonel, what's the plan?"
Hogan sighed. "I'm working on it."
LeBeau, who stood on Hogan's other side, rested his chin on his hand. "I guess Hochstetter's really got us this time."
Kinch frowned. "Isn't it Newkirk's job to be the bearer of gloom and doom?"
The Frenchman shrugged. "Well, someone's got to make up for him not being here to do it."
Hogan rubbed his chin. "Hochstetter doesn't have us beat yet. He's not going to do anything before tomorrow, so we have until then to figure this out."
Addison opened the office door. "Colonel, Newkirk and Carter are back, and they brought a British corporal with them."
The senior officer pushed his cap back. "Well, you guys know the drill. Let's give him a warm Stalag 13 welcome, if he's a British corporal. " He entered the barrack's common room as Newkirk climbed out of the tunnel's bunk entrance.
"This is our barracks. Come up and have a look around."
Hogan groaned. "Newkirk, are you sure you're not getting a little too friendly too soon?"
The Londoner waved his commander's concerns away as Carter climbed up. "I know what you're thinking, sir, but we've already checked and he's loyal to king and country. I'd stake me life on it."
Hogan folded his arms. "You'd better be right. Where is he?"
"I'm down here, sir," a prim voice called up. "May I come up?"
Hogan glanced over the bunk's side. "You may. What's your name?"
The chubbier man saluted and started up the ladder. "Corporal William Kite, RAF, at your service."
Hogan moved out of the Englishman's way as he climbed over the bunk. "Colonel Hogan, United States Air Corp."
Kite bowed his towhead. "Ta, sir. I'm glad to make you and your men's acquaintance. I don't know what I would've done if they hadn't found me—probably spent the night hanging from a tree in the rain, or fighting Rocky Raccoon for a meal in some Jerry's barn if I'd found a way down." He brushed off his jacket. "I must say, it feels odd sneaking into a prison camp. I thought we were supposed to avoid them."
Hogan put his arm around the younger man. "Well, I'm sure you've realized this isn't your average POW camp."
He whistled. "Indeed. I just wish I knew what to tell the blokes when I get home. Newkirk swore me to secrecy, you know."
Hogan nodded. "Speaking of England, what squadron did you fly with?"
Kite's thick eyebrows rose. "The 106. Why?"
Hogan pulled him toward the common table. "Ah, the 106. How's Muldoon doing?"
Kite frowned. "I don't know any Muldoon, sir."
The American laughed. "Stop pulling my leg, Kite. Everyone at the 106 knows Muldoon and that yellow mutt of his. We used to call him Mean Mr. Mustard because he tried to bite everyone's fingers off."
Olsen gave his commander a puzzled look as he whispered in Kinch's ear. "Mean Mr. Mustard? How does he come up with this stuff?"
The Englishman shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I've never heard of Muldoon, and whatever you called his dog."
Hogan chuckled. "C'mon, who do you think you're fooling? Tell me the truth."
Kite winced as Hogan tightened his grip on his shoulder. "I am sir. There's no Muldoon at the 106."
The colonel removed his arm. "Good. I just wanted to make sure you weren't a spy."
Kite gave him a relieved smile. "Oh no sir, not me. I'm from Manchester and I'll fight for her as long as there's breath in me."
Hogan looked at his chef. "LeBeau, is there any stew left over from dinner?"
The Frenchman stepped forward. "Yes, it is still on the stove. I'll bring the corporal a bowl."
Hogan turned back to the younger man. "I hope you don't mind sleeping underground tonight. We're not prepared to accommodate any guests up here."
Kite removed his flight gloves. "Not at all. It can't be any worse than some of the places I've slept since the war started."
Hogan smirked. "Just remember that when the night noises set in. Now get some rest. We'll start working on an escape plan for you tomorrow."
Kite clasped his hands. "Splendid. Ta, sir."
"No problem." The colonel winked. "Just make sure you say hi to Colonel Baldwin for me when you get back."
Kite frowned. "Colonel Baldwin? There's no Colonel Baldwin at the 106 either, sir."
Hogan's shoulders relaxed. "Good. Just double checking." He patted the other man's back when his cheeks coloured. "Don't worry, you passed the test. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some business to take care of."
The corporal cocked an eyebrow. "Might I be of some help? I'd like to repay you for your kindness."
"Not unless you can make a very nasty Gestapo major go away."
Kite chewed his chapped lip. "Why don't you bump him off, as you Yanks say?"
Hogan sighed. "This guy's too dangerous to touch. Plus, he's meeting a colonel tomorrow so he can prove our little operation exists. The only thing we have going for us is they've never met." He paused, studying the young man before snapping his fingers. "That's it. Kite, do you have any acting experience?"
"Oh yes sir. I studied drama when I was at boarding school and I played Puck in the Manchester Repertory Company's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream one summer. Unfortunately, they tossed me out like last week's rubbish because I accidentally called the Scottish play Macbeth. 'Will,' our director said. 'If you're not going to take theatre tradition seriously, you have no business being in it.'"
Hogan nodded. "Do you know any German?"
The corporal shifted his weight. "The company had a German caretaker. He taught me enough to have an intelligent conversation."
The officer's brows furrowed as he mulled the information over. "Do you think you could play a Gestapo colonel?"
Kite held up a finger. "Allow me a moment to get into character." He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders as he stared at the floor for several moments.
"Boy, he's sure taking his sweet time," Carter murmured.
Kite wheeled around, his eyes wild. "Silence! I will not tolerate insolence in the ranks!" He slapped Carter's flight jacket. "Look at this uniform. When did you wash it last?"
Carter glanced at his sleeves. "A few days ago."
"Silence, I said!" Kite screamed. "Stand up straight! Straighten your collar! Fix your hair!" He tsked as Carter stiffened and fussed with his appearance. "Sometimes I wonder what goes on in the minds of men like you. You're a soldier of the Thousand Year Reich, not an old brown shoe. You have the great honour of serving the master race! You must set an example for the rest of the world to aspire to!" He stared at the ceiling. "I love the fatherland and I won't allow sloppy enlisted men make a mockery of it!"
Hogan made a slashing motion against his throat. "Great, Kite, that'll do."
Kite wheeled around to face Hogan. "That'll do? That'll do! Who says?" He froze and blushed. "Yes, sir."
Hogan chuckled. "Kite, I need you to take the place of a Gestapo agent named Colonel Krug and convince one Major Hochstetter we're ordinary prisoners of war. Can you do it?"
Kite snapped off a salute. "Yes sir! It would be a pleasure."
"Good. Just tone down the yelling. Hochstetter has that market cornered already." Hogan slapped his palms together. "Newkirk, fit Kite with the proper clothes. LeBeau, I want you to lead the kidnapping, so brief him on the procedure. Prepare to move out at 0600 hours."
***break***
"So, I saw her standing there at the Lime Street station to get a ticket to ride the train. She looked like exactly like another girl I knew back home, Eleanor Rigby. So, I went over and we started talking. I asked her name and she says its Mary Jane. So I ask her what's the new Mary Jane?" Then some crazy yanks shouts, 'Hey, Polythene Pam!'"
LeBeau shook his head as he edged through the woods. His stories are getting stranger by the minute. "We're almost at the road that leads to camp," he said. "You know what to do?"
Kite frowned. "Of course I do. We're going to wait here until Colonel Glug's car comes, which should be any time, according to Colonel Hogan."
LeBeau felt his molars grind against each other. "It's Krug not Glug."
Kite nodded. "Yes, yes, Colonel Lug. Then we'll stop his car and say we're farmers whose lorry broke down." He wrinkled his nose as he sniffed his plaid coat. "I'd believe it. We smell like we've been rubbing against a horse's arse."
LeBeau's gaze rose to the heavens as he muttered a few choice French words. "Then what?"
Kite smacked his palm with a fist. "We'll knock them out, nick their clothes and stuff them in the boot. I'll be Colonel Glug while you drive my car into camp. Then, I'll flummox the enemy with my superior intellect while the other blokes get the real Lughead and driver out of the boot once it's back in the motorpool."
The Frenchman raised a finger to his lips. "Shush! You want the Krauts to hear?"
Kite put his hands on his hips. "I'm not talking loudly. Honestly, you don't think I'd be that stupid, do you? Good lord…."
LeBeau's hand's twitched as they fought to stay at his side. Mon Dieu, I wish he'd shut up. Even Carter's not this bad.
"LeBeau?" The Frenchman turned to Kite, who glared at him. "You didn't hear a word of what I just said, did you? Honestly, how can you survive in this business if you don't listen?"
LeBeau started to reply when he spotted headlights heading for them. "Okay, this is it. Follow me."
Kite pushed a pine branch out of his face. "I'll follow the sun, or anything else, at this point."
LeBeau trotted into the road and waved. "Halt! Halt!"
The staff car's brakes squeaked as it jerked to a stop. The driver rolled his window down. "What's going on?"
LeBeau jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Our truck broke down a few kilometers back. Could you give us a ride to town so I can call my father in-law?"
"Nein!" He barked, his uni-brow almost touching his nose. "We're not going into town."
LeBeau motioned to Kite behind his back, who approached the car's other side. "Please help us. It's bad enough I have to tell my father in-law his truck broke down while my brother and I were using it. Are you married?"
The driver recoiled, holding his nose as the Frenchman put his arm on the window's edge. "Yes, why?"
LeBeau flashed a sly grin. "Then you know what I mean. My father in-law thinks I'm not good enough to trust with his truck, let alone his daughter." He snorted. "He should be grateful I took her cross-eyed dog face off his hands when no one else would."
A thin finger tapped the back of the driver's seat. "Corporal Briel, stop chattering with that dummkopf. We're already late."
LeBeau drew his gun as the corporal reached for the clutch. "Get out of the car with your hands up."
Kite jerked his side door open. "Same goes for you. I'm looking through you, so don't try anything funny."
The older and thinner man stared back at him, laughing. "What?"
Kite grabbed his shoulder and pulled him out. "O-u-t spells out! Which part's so difficult for you to understand?"
A scowl replaced the German's laughter. "Do you know who I am?"
"I presume you're Colonel Krug. If you are, then strip to your knickers."
Krug puffed his chest out. "You can't order me around!"
Kite jabbed his gun into the German's back. "I can and I am. Now take it off or I'll do it for you."
Krug's cheeks reddened. "Are you mad? You can't do that! I'll…."
Kite cocked the weapon. "Do it before I put a hole in your nice uniform."
Krug's stiffened, but unbuttoned his overcoat.
Kite chuckled, tilting his head to LeBeau, who supervised Briel's undressing. "Hey, old man! Why don't we do it in the road once they're done?"
The Germans jerked their heads up. LeBeau frowned. "Do what?"
The Englishman grinned. "You know, take care of these piggies?" He cracked the pistol across the colonel's skull. "Like that?"
LeBeau looked back at the man now kneeling at his feet.
"Please don't hurt me." Briel whimpered. "I have a wife and children. I'm their only means of support."
LeBeau swallowed hard, but brought his gun down on the German's head.
"Oh bother," Kite muttered, holding up a shirt. "Look at this uniform. It was meant for a beanstalk. I'm probably going to burst through the seams wearing it."
LeBeau squinted at the skyline and swore. "Well, squeeze into it before someone sees us. And hurry up! We're already running late."
***break***
Hogan checked his watch as his men gathered for roll call outside the barracks. "Where are they?"
Kinch slid a cigarette out of his pack. "Still no sign of them, Colonel?"
Hogan sighed. "What are they doing? Fixing a hole in the road or something?"
Newkirk leaned toward his commanding officer. "Schultz is getting nervous, sir. He just noticed LeBeau's missing."
As if on cue, Schultz appeared on Hogan's other side. "Colonel Hogan, where is LeBeau? He should be here."
Hogan shrugged. "What can I say, Schultz? He should be here any minute."
The sergeant smiled. "Well, if he'll be here any minute…." His face fell. "Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant and Major Hochstetter will also be here any minute. It would mean my life if they discovered LeBeau's escaped."
Hogan clicked his tongue. "C'mon, Schultz, give us a little credit. When have we ever made a real escape?" He nodded as Schultz mulled the question over. "See what I mean?"
"If only the Kommandant would see it that way," the sergeant muttered.
"Besides, how would he know unless you tell him?" Hogan pointed at his chest. "I'm sure not going to tell him."
Kinch motioned to the gate as a staff car pulled up. "There he is."
Hogan glanced at Klink's headquarters. "And here comes Klink, Burkhalter and Hochstetter." He turned to Schultz. "See, what did I tell you? He's here and no one's the wiser."
"But that's supposed to be Colonel Krug, not LeBeau." Horror crept onto Schultz's face. "Oh Colonel Hogan, please, no monkey business. How many times do I have to beg you, no monkey business!"
"Report!" Klink bellowed, marching down his office steps.
Schultz closed his eyes and muttered under his breath.
"No time for that now!" Hochstetter snapped. "Colonel Krug's arrived."
Klink waved at Schultz. "Cancel that order!"
"Yeah!" Newkirk yelled. "He'd like some kippers for breakfast instead."
Klink scowled at the rows of laughing men, debating whether to punish or ignore the Londoner.
Hochstetter shook his head. "Honestly Klink, if you were in the Gestapo, you would've been shot by now." He looked down. "What am I saying? The Gestapo would sooner disband than accept a man like you."
Burkhalter smirked as Klink harrumphed and scurried to the staff car. He saluted with a 'Heil Hitler,' as Krug stepped out of his car unaided.
He spread his arms. "Good morning, good morning. Isn't this a wonderful day?"
Burkhalter frowned. "If only it were."
Krug's eyebrows rose. "What do you mean, if only it were?"
Burkhalter winced. "I didn't mean you, Colonel. Major Hochstetter woke me from a dead sleep to ask I be here for your arrival." He glared at the major, then yawned. "I'm afraid you won't see me at my most alert or patient today."
Hochstetter saluted. "Heil Hitler."
Krug lifted his hand. "Yes, yes, Heil Hitler. You must be Major Hochstetter. I've heard a lot about you."
Klink stepped forward. "What about me, Herr Colonel?"
Krug flinched, tugging at his coat collar. "Ah, yes, Colonel Klink, the Bald Eagle."
The corner of Klink's mouth quivered. "That's Iron Eagle."
The colonel flashed a polite smile. "Yes. You're a legend all your own."
Klink beamed. "Really? I never realized Berlin thought so highly of me. I know my escape record is impressive, but..."
"Klink!" Hochstetter snapped before glaring at Krug. "You're much younger than I expected." He motioned to the other man's neck, which turned from pink to white when he undid his coat's top button. "And much heavier."
Krug undid his shirt collar button. "Well, you of all people should know, Major, an Aryan man's body doesn't matter to Berlin. Our superiors reward those with sharp eyes, ears and wits faster than those without those qualities."
The men froze when he heard a dull thud.
Hogan's heart rate leapt. Uh oh.
Hochstetter stared at the car. "What was that?"
"What was what?" Krug replied.
Burkhalter pointed to the car. "That thud. It sounded like it came from the trunk."
Krug gave him a dismissive wave. "Oh, that? It's just a tiger. Nothing to worry about."
"A tiger?" Klink yelped.
Krug nodded. "Are you familiar with the continuing story of Bungalow Bill, the American adventurer who hunted in India? He was famous for shooting tigers 500 metres away while riding on an elephant's back." Klink flinched as Krug raised his finger like a gun. "I became good friends with Bill when he gave a lecture in Munich several years ago. He had a tiger cub he'd orphaned on his last hunt with him then. Apparently, he'd bribed a customs official to get it into Germany so he could train it as a pet. Unfortunately, Bill was afraid the authorities would kill it after it maimed one of the bellboys at his hotel, so he asked me to take it." The staff car rocked as another thud sounded from the trunk. Kite cleared this throat. "This fellow's a fugitive of sorts, so I don't dare let him out of my sight."
Klink's eyes widened. "Isn't it dangerous having a tiger in your car?"
The colonel shrugged. "It can be. That's why Briel fed it sleeping pills before we left." He glared at the car, now rocking back and forth. "Evidently he didn't give Wild Honey Pie enough."
Hochstetter's eyebrows rose. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"
Hogan started toward them. I can't believe I'm thinking this, but I actually agree with you, Hochstetter. I'd better put a stop to this before it gets any more out of hand.
Krug scowled. "I don't care if you believe it or not, Major, because I outrank you. Besides, every genius is allowed his eccentricities. This is one of mine." He turned to Briel. "You'd better get Honey Pie out of there before she tears the rest of the trunk apart. I trust we can keep her in the motorpool if we tranquilize her better, Kommandant?"
Briel started the car when Klink gulped, but gave his blessing. A few men from the back row strolled after it as it headed for the motor pool.
"Now then, Major," Krug continued. "What's this problem of yours?"
Hochstetter's gaze scanned the compound. "I don't know if this is the best place to discuss this..."
Krug's frown returned. "Major, I came all the way from Berlin to help you because your superiors came to me groveling on their hands and knees. If you don't stop acting so suspicious, I'll go back there to attend to more important business."
Hogan appeared at Klink's shoulder. "Excuse me, Kommandant. I have a few request to make on behalf of the men."
"Klink!" Hochstetter barked. "What is this man doing here? What is this man always doing here? For once I'd like him out of my way!"
Klink's shoulders tensed. "Requests denied, Hogan. Dismissed."
Hogan's aw shucks smile vanished. "But sir!"
"I said dismissed!"
"Fine," Hogan whined, catching Krug's eye. "Say, who's this? He looks awfully important."
Krug straightened. "I'm Colonel Krug of the Gestapo. Who the devil are you?"
The American offered his hand. "Colonel Hogan, senior POW at Stalag 13."
Krug leaned toward Hochstetter. "Is this the one?" He took it when Hochstetter nodded. "Well, well, Colonel Hogan. It's a pleasure."
"Same here. What brings you to our humble camp?"
Hochstetter butted in. "He's here to help me find out once and for all what you're doing under our noses!"
Hogan folded his arms. "Isn't it obvious?" He pointed his thumb at his chest. "This boy's waiting out the rest of the war. I've got a bet going with the rest of the fellas here on who's going to win. The winner gets a Norman Rockwell picture from an old Saturday Evening Post. We tried to get a picture out of an old French magazine of LeBeau's, but he's touchy about letting anyone near his stuff."
Klink flashed Burkhalter a nervous grin. "Hogan, you know there's no gambling at Stalag 13."
Krug yawned. "That's all very interesting, Klink, but we have more pressing business to attend to."
"Klink, get rid of this man." Hogan winced as Hochstetter grinned. God, is that an ugly sight. He looks like he just had a root canal, or is severely constipated. "I don't want anything getting in Colonel Krug's way."
"Schultz!" Klink bellowed.
Hogan pulled his earlobe to clear it. "I'm glad your laryngitis has cleared up, Kommandant."
Hochstetter's root canal smile became vampiric as Schultz arrived. "Joke all you want, Hogan. Seeing you shot will be the best birthday gift I could receive today."
Hogan's face registered surprise. "No kidding! Today's your birthday? Happy birthday." He stared at Klink, his eyes dancing. "Say, Kommandant, why don't we throw the major a party?"
Blood and Guts' voice deepened and joined Schultz in saying, "You're joking."
"I don't want a party," Hochstetter growled, balling his hands into fists. "I want your head on a platter!"
Krug laughed. "Come now, Major. Who doesn't love birthday parties?"
"I hate them!" Hochstetter snarled, the skin under his mustache turning purple. "Besides, we have an investigation to start."
The colonel clapped the major's back. "Why don't you take the day off and let me worry about it? Then we'll discuss my findings at the party this evening." The other German cut Hochstetter's protests off. "I insist."
Hochstetter reached into his pocket. "Let me give you my notes."
Krug clicked his tongue. "Tut, tut, Major. Don't bother me with petty details. If it's obvious enough for you to find, I'll certainly find it in no time. Now, off with you."
The purple tint under Hochstetter's mustache spread to the rest of his face. "Very well," he said through clenched teeth. "Klink, I'll need your office for the rest of the day. I have to make a few phone calls."
Klink bowed slightly. "Of course, Major. If I may so, you're showing remarkable restraint."
"Bah!" he screamed, stomping away.
Burkhalter stifled a yawn. "I'm going back to bed. Call me if you need me, Colonel."
Krug looked at Klink. "I'd best be getting along as well. There's so much to do. It's all too much, really. But I love this job. Tomorrow never knows what it's going to bring me." He glanced at the barracks. "Do I have permission to look around?"
Klink waved the swagger cane tucked under his arm. "Of course."
"Wonderful."
Klink and Hogan stared at each other as the investigator sauntered away.
"So that's the famous Colonel Krug," Hogan muttered.
Klink nodded. "I heard he was odd, but I never really believed it until now."
Hogan turned away. "Well, Kommandant, I'll let you get back to work."
Klink put on his most authoritative tone. "Wait, Hogan. Could you get the cockroach to cook dinner for us tonight?"
The American colonel shook his head. "LeBeau's got no love for Major Hochstetter. He'd probably slip arsenic into the pâté."
Klink's lower lip jutted out. "Please, Hogan. I'll give the prisoners an extra ration of bread for a week."
"Make it two."
"A week and a half." Klink raised his hands as Hogan started to walk away. "Alright, alright."
Hogan counted on his fingers. "You'll also need decorations and a birthday gift from General Burkhalter, the colonel and yourself. Throw in an extra hour of light for a week and we'll take care of everything."
Klink eyed him curiously. "Are you sure a gift is really necessary?"
Hogan shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt, especially if you want Colonel Krug's report to glow with praise about your efficiency."
Klink rubbed his chin. "Very well. Make sure everything's ready by 1900 hours."
Hogan nodded. "You can count on us, sir."
***break***
"Okay fellas, easy does it. That's it."
Hogan laughed as Carter waved from one side to the other while Kinch and Olsen adjusted the 'Happy Birthday Major Hochstetter' banner over the Klink's lit fireplace. "No fellas, a little more to the left. No, to the right. No, I meant the left."
"For heaven's sake, Carter!" Olsen snapped, wobbling on his ladder. "Make up your mind where you want it!"
Carter folded his arms. "Hey, I know what I'm doing. My sister was on our school's homecoming decoration committee for three years straight."
Hogan put his hand on the sergeant's shoulder. "It looks great."
Carter's gave him a worried look. "You really think so? I mean, we didn't have time to do much."
The colonel glanced over his shoulder. "Where's Klink?"
"Walking Burkhalter up," Kinch replied, relaxing his grip on the banner. "Judging by the bellowing we heard earlier, Sleeping Beauty's a bit cranky."
Hogan wrinkled his nose. "What's LeBeau making tonight?"
"No idea sir," Kinch replied. "I only half listened when he rattled off the menu."
Hogan waved the air around him. "It smells like it's burning, whatever it is."
Carter gasped as flames sprung up from the banner's right corner. "Holy smokes!" He grabbed the champagne stand and tossed its half melted ice cubes onto it.
Olsen and Kinch bolted down their ladders, swearing and stamping the flames out when the water hit them.
"Great," Olsen muttered. "Now we're soaked and the ink's running."
Carter groaned. "It took us two hours to make it. Now we'll have to start all over again."
Kinch shook his head. "That's our last banner. We'll have to let it dry and hope for the best."
"Well, you seem to have everything under control." Hogan headed for the kitchen. "I'll go check on LeBeau." He stuck his head through the doorway and strode in. "How's everything coming in here?"
LeBeau glanced up from the yellow liquid in his saucepan. "Fine, colonel. Though I wish I was cooking for any dirty Bosch but Hochstetter."
Schultz tsked from his stool in the far corner. "Don't say such things, LeBeau. It's not nice."
The liquid bubbled as the Frenchman stirred it. "But it's true. You can't tell us you like throwing that Kraut a birthday party."
The guard nibbled on a discarded potato skin. "No, but this might be the first party anyone's ever given him. Maybe he won't be so nasty after tonight."
"I wouldn't count on it."
The men turned to see Corporal Kite arrive through the back door. "I've been running around inspecting every inch of this camp and he's still acting like a bear with a thorn in his paw." He glanced at Schultz and puffed up his chest. "What's this man doing here?" he barked in his Gestapo voice.
Schultz bolted up and saluted. "I'm, I'm..."
"Speak up!" he snapped. "What are you, a man or an overstuffed mouse?"
Schultz's jowls quivered. "I'm guarding the prisoners."
Kite waved his hand. "Well get out! I'll handle it myself!" Schultz bolted for the door once the Englishman returned his salute. Kite grinned. "Now we can speak freely."
Hogan folded his arms. "Good, because we need to talk about this routine you've cooked up. When I told you to play crazy, I meant Nazi crazy, not mental-patient-who-escaped-from-the-nut-house crazy."
Kite's voice slipped back into his British accent. "I know, sir, but I feel my character's more eccentric than Nazi. It's worked so far. Major Hochstetter's doing just what I want him to. He even bought the tiger story enough not to check the car's boot."
Hogan frowned. "Well, you need to tone it down. Next thing I know, you're going to start saying you found a glass onion during the Russian Revolution or something just as crazy."
Kite rubbed his chin. "That's not bad, actually. Of course, I'd only say it if it's really something my character would say. Characters are funny that way. Sometimes they'll take a slight departure from what you planned, and you can't change them without them feeling false."
Hogan started to pace. "The other problem with characters is coming up with a way to kill them off so people who think they're real don't get wise to them." He fell into a brief silence, then snapped his fingers. "Kite, tell Carter I asked him to make a few explosive charges, then come back here. I've got a plan that just might work if everything'll come together."
***break***
"So, after all that, she came in through the bathroom window and said 'hello, goodbye!'"
Klink and Burkhalter roared with laughter, spilling champagne onto their couch.
Hogan smiled politely from his chair and sipped his drink. The party had started half an hour ago and he was still on his first. The Germans were already into their fourth. Not that I blame them, he thought. The birthday boy hasn't exactly been a barrel of laughs.
Hochstetter scowled from his seat between Klink and Burkhalter, ignoring his drink. "Colonel…."
"I said, 'Hello little girl,'" Kite continued. "Then I checked my watch and said 'Oh, darling, I'm sorry. I've got to catch the 11 o'clock train. You know, the one after 909? Otherwise I'll miss my appointment with Doctor Robert."
The major cleared his throat. "Colonel, how did your investigation go?"
Kite clicked his tongue. "Come, Major, this is a party in your honour." He reached for a tray. "Have a hors d'oeuvre. They remind of the savoy truffles I had once when I was a boy."
Hochstetter's hands trembled, looking ready to hurl his glass across the room. "I'm not interested in truffles! All I want is the truth!"
Kite narrowed his eyes. "All right, major, I'll put you out of your misery. The truth is I've never seen a cleaner camp."
Hochstetter's frown deepened. "What?"
"I can't find any evidence of sabotage activity."
The Gestapo officer sputtered. "What about…?"
Kite raised his hand. "I don't want to hear it. There are hundreds of better ways you could spend your time instead of hounding poor Kommandant Klink with your wild theories."
Hogan nodded. "That's what we've been trying to tell you all along."
"All along," Klink slurred, pointing at Hochstetter.
The major raised his hands. "Impossible! I don't believe this! How could you not find anything? You, of all people, should have found something." He paused, his eyes wild. "You're helping Hogan do this to me, aren't you?" He cackled. "You're not even really Krug, are you?"
Hogan's blood ran cold as he choked on his champagne.
Kite swallowed. "What do you mean by that?"
"I called my office in Hammelburg today. Apparently they captured and questioned some British airman last night. All of the crew members have been accounted for, except for one who's described as tall, blond, and." He stared at Kite's bulging uniform. "Chubby."
Burkhalter and Klink fell silent. Kite stiffened and folded his hands. "Major, you've described half of my friends in the high command. You'd better be sure before you throw insane accusations at people."
Hochstetter balled his hands into fists. "But…."
Kite raised his index finger. "All I've got to do is make one phone call and it won't be long before you're a nowhere man fighting back in the USSR!" He chuckled. "I know happiness is a warm gun for you Major, but I don't expect you'll find much warmth from it or anything else there."
He glanced back as the front door opened, revealing a woman in a tweed overcoat. He felt his jaw drop when she pushed her hood back, revealing her heart-shaped face and blond pigtails. My God, she's even more beautiful than the Lady Madonna.
"Herr Kommandant, I've finished those reports you asked for." She looked up, pausing as she took in the scene before her. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company."
"Not all at, Fraulein Hilda," Klink replied.
Kite patted the arm rest beside him. "Think nothing of it. Won't you join us?"
She shook her head. "I'd better not. I have to get up early tomorrow."
Kite crossed the room, offering his arm. "Oh, have a heart. Please, please me, fraulein. And please, please the men in this room who are dying to enjoy the company of a devastatingly beautiful girl."
Hilda's pale cheeks coloured. "You're too kind, Herr Colonel, but I really shouldn't."
"Yes, Fraulein Hilda," Burkhalter cooed. "Please sit down."
"That's an order," Klink blurted.
Kite gave the Kommandant a piercing look and led the secretary to his seat. "There, that's much better." He handed her a glass of champagne. "To the fatherland and the pretty girls in it." He raised his glass and drank its contents.
Hogan frowned. Stay focused, Kite.
Kite, oblivious to Hogan, gazed into Hilda's eyes. Oh yes, she's a woman in every way.
She turned away. "Why are you staring at me?"
He reached out to stroke her cheek. "Do you want to know a secret? I've just seen a face I could fall in love with for the rest of my life; yours."
Hilda edged away from him. "I think you like me too much, Herr Colonel. You hardly know me."
Kite's heart fluttered as he inhaled her lilac perfume. "I know all I need to know."
Hogan leapt up. "Well," he said louder than he intended. "The boys and I have put together a gift for Major Hochstetter. Kommandant, could we bring it in now?"
Klink nodded. "Yes, yes, get on with it."
Hogan yelled to the kitchen door. "All right, fellas, c'mon out!"
LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk filed out, straightening their hair and red waiter jackets.
"What is this?" Hochstetter snapped.
"A little number I composed just for this occasion." Hogan raised his hands in a conductor-like fashion. "Ready? All together now."
Newkirk picked up an empty serving tray and pounded a steady beat as LeBeau gave his best imitation of a trumpet. Carter watched Hogan for his cue before he sang, "they say it's your birthday! Well, it's my birthday too, yeah."
Burkhalter and Klink winced, putting their hands over their ears. Hochstetter's knuckles turned white from clutching his glass.
Kite kissed Hilda's hand. "I wanna be your man, fraulein. I want to hold your hand for the rest of my life."
She pulled away. "Colonel, I…."
"I want you to hold me tight eight days a week; every night in my life." He leaned over and kissed her, savouring the warmth of her lips on his as Burkhalter and Klink turned several shades of green.
Hogan eyebrows rose as he glanced back. Have you lost your mind, Kite?
Hilda pounded on his chest and leapt up when he moved. "If I fell in love," she snapped, raising her hand. "It would be with a gentleman I could give all my loving to. You're not that gentleman. You're not even a gentleman!"
"I would like you to dance," Carter sang. "Take a ch…ch…ch...chance."
Kite sighed. "Very well. I apologize for my behavior." He winked at the other officers. "It appears I'm a loser at love tonight." He looked back at Hilda, now fleeing for the door. "I'll remember you when I'm sixty four, my dear!"
The waiters dropped to their knees, their arms open. "Birthday!"
Hogan led a round of strained applause and glanced at Hochstetter, "What did you think, Major? I wrote it myself. I hope someone really famous will record it one day."
"Bah!" Hochstetter tossed his champagne glass into the fireplace. "I'm leaving."
Hogan pointed to himself. "Is it me? I don't want to spoil the party, so I'll go if you want me to."
"Please stay," Kite crooned. "We're having a wonderful time."
"I'm not!" Hochstetter spat. "I intend to report all of this madness about tigers and truffles to Berlin! Hopefully they'll have you shot once we sort it out."
Kite rose. "I'll save you the paperwork. I'm returning to Berlin tonight. Why don't you you accompany me so we tell them both sides of the story?"
"I'd rather kiss a rattlesnake!" Hochstetter screamed, marching to the door.
"Halt!" Kite barked. "I'm still you superior officer! I order you to accompany me to Berlin."
Burkhalter heaved himself out of his chair. "I, too, must get back to Berlin. Could I ask for a ride, Colonel?"
"Don't you have your own car?" Hochstetter growled.
The general winced. "I had to send it back so my wife could go shopping."
"Why not?" Kite turned to Klink. "Good night Kommandant, and thank you for your hospitality."
Klink slumped forward and let off a soft snore.
Kite motioned to the door. "Shall we, gentleman?"
Carter retrieved the German's coats from the hall closet. "Boy, he's something else," he whispered, as he helped Kite into his.
Newkirk nodded. "Well, you know what they say about officers. They're all crackers."
Kite grinned. "Thank you. Now, make sure you get into position for phase two."
***break***
"So, she's leaving home," Kite giggled, leaning against the staff car's back seat. "I shouted, 'Stop, Michelle! Surely we can work it out! Have you at least called your mother? Your mother should know about this! You'll carry that weight for the rest of your life if you don't tell her."
"Shut up!" Hochstetter screamed from behind Burkhalter's girth. "If I needed someone to talk me to death, I'd buy a parrot!"
Kite rolled his eyes. "Well, ob-la-di, ob-la-da, as my mother would say. Aren't you acting like a member of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band? And your bird can sing too, no doubt."
Hochstetter tore at his hair. "What does that even mean? Why don't you speak plain German, like everyone else?"
Burkhalter belched, his breath stinking of champagne. "Relax, Major. Berlin is a long, long, long way away. Take a break from being yourself and enjoy the ride."
Hochstetter stomped his foot against the floor. "I've had enough of this!" He grabbed the driver's shoulder. "Stop the car."
The car slowed as LeBeau took his foot off the gas pedal. "Jawohl, Herr Major. I just have to find a place to stop."
"There are plenty of places to stop." The Frenchman winced as Hochstetter's grip tightened. "Pull over I said! I'd rather crawl on my knees all the way to the Russian Front than spend another minute in this car."
Kite laughed and pulled him back. "You know what I've learned after sharing a day in the life with you, Major? All you need is love. Take Hilda for instance. Money can't buy me love like that girl could offer a man, and I love her for it. If only she loved me in return. You know, she said, she said…."
The car doors swung open, revealing men with faces covered by handkerchiefs. "Get out!" The one by Hochstetter barked.
Burkhalter frowned. "How dare you! This is a private car!"
"Shut up," he replied, aiming his pistol. "Or Maxwell will get his silver hammer out."
Kite's throat tightened. "What's that?"
The man closest to him grabbed his arm and shoved him toward a lanky man holding up a hammer. "That," he said, his voice deep. "Is Maxwell's silver hammer."
Kite winced as his captor jabbed a gun into his back. "My this night's getting better all the time."
Hochstetter struggling against the taller man marching him behind a row of pine trees. "Unhand me at once!"
His captor elbowed his back, forcing him to the ground. The smell of pine filled his senses when his face slapped tree branches.
"You can't treat me like this," Burkhalter whined as his captor forced him out of the car and onto the ground. He squirmed as snow soaked into his pant's knees. "I'm a general."
The one with the sharp voice jerked Burkhalter's arms as he tied them. "Is that so? Then I'll be sure I tie my knots extra tight."
Maxwell lowered his hammer. "Dispose of them," he croaked, pointing the hammer at Kite. "All except this one. We'll use him to get past the check points." He moved toward Kite as his men tied the others up. "Well, well, well. We met again, Colonel Krug. I don't suppose you remember me, do you?"
Kite shook his head.
"Do you remember the night of May 5, 1936? You murdered my family at their farm." Maxwell's voice broke. "You slaughtered my father, mother and brothers like animals."
His eyes widened. "Good lord man, I swear…."
"Shut up!" Maxwell barked. "Their blood is on your hands. It's time I paid you back for it." He grabbed Kite and motioned to the man by LeBeau. "You drive on."
Hochstetter glared at Maxwell. "I'll get you for this! I'll enclose you in my ring of steel and crush you like the vermin you are. By the time I get through with you…."
Maxwell cocked his fist and slammed it into Hochstetter's cheek. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. That's a taste of the easy way."
Hochstetter moaned, his face aching.
Burkhalter watched as Maxwell marched Kite and LeBeau to the car and had them drive away. "Major, if we survive this, remind me never to let you talk me out of bed for any reason ever again."
The sharp-voiced man cracked his gun over the general's skull. "Quiet."
"This is an outrage!" Hochstetter protested, wriggling against his binds. "I'll have you shot! I'll have you..."
His jaw dropped as an explosion broke the night's stillness. The kidnappers looked up, then checked their knots.
The sharp-voiced one pulled his mask off and whispered in the deep-voiced man's ear. "Well, the Governor's off. You ready, Kinch?"
Kinch nodded and they disappeared into the bush as Hochstetter watched a fireball light up the night in stunned silence.
***break***
"So, that's what happened," Burkhalter said, wincing as he adjusted the ice on his head. "At least that's what Major Hochstetter told me when I regained consciousness. He'd managed to untie himself by then, so he untied me and flagged down a truck taking supplies to the Russian Front."
Klink headed for his schnapps bottle. "And where was Major Hochstetter going after you came here, Herr General? He didn't seem interested in my offer to let him use the phone, or to borrow my car."
Burkhalter groaned as he shifted in his chair. "He went back to Hammelburg so he could tell Berlin the Underground blew up its prize investigator. I imagine he won't be causing us any trouble for quite awhile."
Klink poured two glasses and handed one to Burkhalter. "At least you're safe, Herr General."
Burkhalter nodded. "Thank you Klink. Now, I'm going to stop talking." He pointed to the balding colonel. "And you're going to stop talking until my car arrives. I'd like to get rid of this headache before I get another one from seeing my wife's shopping bills."
***break***
"Goldilocks to Mama Bear," Hogan said into his radio's microphone. "Goldilocks to Mama Bear. Come in Mama Bear, over."
"This is Goldilocks, over," a Bronx accent answered back.
"Did you receive our three packages, over?"
"We did. One big schnitzel, one little schnitzel and one plate of bangers and mash, over."
Good, Hogan thought. At least the real Krug, his driver and Kite made their rendezvous. Maybe Kite can scare them into spilling their guts to London with his crazy act.
"Bangers asked me to say thank you for the part of a life time. Just say the word and you'll get another command performance any time at all, over."
Hogan grinned. "Tell Bangers thanks but no thanks. Goldilocks out."