St. Johanniskirche, Kitzingen
****
Hogan awoke with a
start. Where was he? He found himself lying facedown on a hard, cold floor. Marble?
he wondered. The church! He remembered an imposing, gothic steeple,
overlooking the center of the small town--St. Johanniskirche.
He shivered
suddenly, feeling a bone-deep chill. The Gestapo! Hogan had to
get to the rendezvous. Kinch and Newkirk would be waiting for him. They had to
find a way to rescue the four underground leaders. The men were probably being
transferred to Gestapo Headquarters in Wurzburg, almost ten kilometers west of
Kitzingen.
Tonight was supposed
to have been a get acquainted meeting between Hogan and the leaders of four
different underground cells operating in the vicinity of Stalag 13. It was
supposed to have been a chance to coordinate sabotage efforts, establish
priorities, exchange vital information.
A searing pain
radiating from his left shoulder reminded him that he was wounded. Time to
go, Colonel! he told himself. He placed his right hand down and pushed up,
bringing his knees up under him.
"Uhhnn...Some
days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed." Hogan sat up slowly and
slouched against the wall, trying to regain his strength. That wasn't so
hard, was it, Colonel? he asked. Now you've only got about another three
K's to get to the rendezvous.
At a startled gasp
from his right, he instantly brought up his Luger.
A young woman stood
outlined in a golden circle of light, cast by the single candle she held. She
stared, wide-eyed with fear. Hogan's dark, brown eyes bored into hers.
Time seemed to
slow...
He could feel a drop
of perspiration wend its way down his left temple and splash onto the floor
below. His blood pounded in his ears, in time to the hammering in his chest. He
breath rasped as he breathed in and out...
The blink of an eye
passed and her initial wide-eyed stare changed to haughty anger. She raised her
chin defiantly, glaring at him.
"~Are you going
to shoot me?~" she demanded. Hogan didn't answer, but
neither did he lower his weapon. She rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"~Please, it is
late, and I still have much to do. If you are not going to shoot me, then put
that thing away. This is the House of God, after all!~"
Without taking his
eyes off her, he nodded and lowered his weapon.
"~Don't try
anything,~" he warned. At least that was what he'd intended on saying, but
it came out as little more than croak.
"~You are hurt!~"
she cried, taking a sudden step towards him. Instantly, the Luger snapped up
again, aimed directly at her heart.
"~Don't--!~"
he gritted. He watched her through blurring vision. Her figure seemed to
approach and recede much like a badly out-of-focus film.
She stopped in her
tracks, fear warring with anger and concern in her lovely eyes.
"~Please...let me help.~" Her voice was softer, gentle. "~I
promise that I mean you no harm.~"
Hogan's arm shook
from the effort of holding the weapon steady. Realizing that he couldn't keep
his arm up any longer, he nodded and again lowered the weapon. Blinking through
the haze distorting his vision, he watched, mesmerized by the circle of light
that surrounded her, creating a halo effect.
He grinned
lopsidedly, feeling lightheaded as if he were floating. "Are you an
angel?" he whispered. She was kneeling next to him, checking his pulse and
feeling his forehead. At his question, she have him a startled glance.
"You speak
English?" she asked. Confused, Hogan shook his head. Had he slipped back
into English, he wondered?
"Never heard of
it," he denied. She smiled with her eyes, amused.
"I see."
Abruptly, her smile turned to concern. "You have lost a great amount of
blood. What happened?"
"Bad
guys..." he mumbled.
"The sirens!
The Gestapo...they are looking for you?" she asked. He nodded, tired. Her
hands gently explored his shoulder, and unexpectedly, sent an intense surge of
pain. He gasped.
"I am
sorry!" she apologized.
"I thought
angels were supposed to relieve pain...not make it worse," he grumbled.
She laughed softly, a tinkling, musical sound, but became instantly serious.
"We must get
you to the infirmary and take care of this."
He shook his head.
"No time..."
"I will get
Mother Superior," she said, ignoring him. "You must wait here. Will
you be all right?"
"Gotta go...too
dangerous. For you..." Eyes closed, he made a move to stand. In his mind,
he could even see himself standing. In reality, he only managed
to fall into her arms.
"You are not
going anywhere..." Her voice called to him from somewhere far away.
"...except with me..."
****
[Sunday 22 NOV 1942//2350hrs local]
Infirmary, St. Johanniskirche
****
He heard voices talking softly above him.
"~How is he, Mother?~"
"~He is remarkably strong. He has lost a great deal of blood, but he
will be all right.~"
He felt a warm, gentle touch on his forehead. "~No fever. That is
good.~"
"~His identification tags say that he as an American officer. A
colonel. What would an American officer be doing here?~"
"~All in good time, Margarethe. All in good time...~"
The voices above him faded into the darkness that reclaimed him.
****
[Monday 23 NOV 1942//0015hrs local]
Infirmary, St. Johanniskirche
****
The sound of soft humming brought him back from the abyss. Brahm's
Lullaby. His mother used to hum it to him when he was a child. He turned
towards the sound, squinting against the dim lighting. He saw a feminine
silhouette a few feet away, head down, rocking back and forth.
"Shhh...Liebling..." the voice was a caress. "~Good
night, little one. Sweet dreams.~" As she stood, Hogan saw that she
carried a small bundle in her arms, a sleeping child. He watched as she laid
the child down and gently covered him. As she worked, she continued to hum
soothingly.
She leaned over the small form for a few moments. Straightening, she
turned to go. Catching his eye, she smiled. Hogan smiled in turn. She was indeed
lovely, he saw. She sat down on the side of his bed.
"I see you are awake. Colonel, is it?"
Hogan grimaced. "Found me out, huh?" Nodding, she fingered the
dog tags that were lying on his chest. Sighing, he muttered to himself.
"Guess I'll have to come up with something else for next time."
"Excuse me?" Margarethe watched him curiously.
Grinning slightly, he held out his hand and introduced himself.
"Col. Hogan, U.S. Army."
"And I am Margarethe Wunderling--"
"You sure are, ma'am," he said appreciatively.
Her dark, brown hair was tied back in a sensible bun, a nurse's half-wimple
partially covering her head. He noticed how her eyes--Gray, he
noted--crinkled at the corners in amusement. Realizing that he was staring, he
added lamely, "You speak English very well."
"I took my schooling in Cambridge before the war," she
explained. "And you? You speak German quite fluently."
Hogan shrugged, not answering. She gave him a tolerant look. "I see.
It is all very well for you to ask questions, but you do not provide
answers." He smiled enigmatically.
"Sister Margarethe?" an older woman called softly. Hogan and
Margarethe both turned.
"Yes, Mother Bernadette?"
Sister? Hogan wondered. He glanced quickly
back at Margarethe, and for the first time saw the small, gold crucifix she
wore. Of course, she's a nun! You almost made a big fool of yourself,
Colonel!
"Ah! I see our newest, and largest patient is awake!"
"Largest?" Hogan asked curiously. Margarethe and Bernadette
both laughed softly.
"Most of our patients are under the age of ten. From our orphanage
school," Margarethe explained.
"Orphanage?" Hogan asked.
"Before the war, St. Johanniskirche ran a parish day school,"
Bernadette explained. "Since the war, the needs of our parishioners have
changed."
"Especially the needs of the children who have been orphaned or
abandoned," Margarethe added sadly.
"Yes," Bernadette agreed with a shake of her head. "It is
always the children who suffer." She glanced up at Hogan, her smile tinged
with sadness. "But you mustn't tire yourself out, Colonel. You really
should try and get some sleep. You need to rest."
Hogan shook his head, 'no,' while simultaneously attempting to sit up.
"Colonel, you must lie down!" Margarethe protested, holding him by
the shoulders.
"No. It's too dangerous for me to stay any longer," Hogan said
weakly. "The Gestapo is still searching for me. Soon, they'll start a
house to house."
He stopped for breath, and to wait for the world to stop spinning. Unable
to help himself, he leaned on her for support. Somewhere in the back of his
mind, he registered the subtle scent of her perfume.
Perfume...? He couldn't recall any of the nuns at his parish school wearing
perfume.
"Col. Hogan, you can't even sit up," Margarethe pointed out.
"How can you expect--"
"--'Cause I have a job to do. Four men are in the hands of the
Gestapo, and it's my responsibility to get them out. I've gotta contact my
men."
"The Gestapo?" she hissed. "Colonel, are you out of your
mind?"
Hogan grinned. "There's an RAF corporal who keeps asking me
that." He feigned a hurt look. "A guy could get a complex, you
know."
Margarethe gave him a 'Don't give me that' look in turn.
"Mother Bernadette, I believe that we were only half correct. What we have
here is a very large, very stubborn child!"
"Margarethe, perhaps the Colonel is correct," Bernadette said
regretfully. "It is too dangerous for him to remain here.
I am sorry, Colonel, but I must think of the children first."
"Mother--!" Margarethe gasped in shock.
"No, Sister," Hogan said, nodding. "Mother Bernadette is
right. It's best I leave." Rallying his strength, he swung his legs over
the side and sat up. Resting for a moment, he straightened his shoulders and
slowly stood, leaning heavily on Margarethe.
"But look at you!" Margarethe protested. She turned to
Bernadette, beseechingly. "Mother, look at him! He is too weak to travel.
We cannot turn him out!"
"Ladies, if you'll just lead me to my clothes and weapons, I'll get
out of your hair."
"Margarethe, take him to Father Schumacher's cell. They are of
similar size. I am afraid, Col. Hogan, that your shirt and jacket were a total
loss."
"Mother--?" Margarethe tried once again. At Bernadette's
sorrowful shake of the head, Margarethe dropped her eyes and nodded solemnly.
"Chin up, Sister Margarethe," Hogan said softly. "When I
was a kid, I was thrown out of more parish schools than you can count. I was
even voted 'Most likely to be a troublemaker' by the nuns of St. Michael back
home."
"Now, that I can believe!" Margarethe said
with a laugh.
****
[Monday 23 NOV 1942//0045hrs local]
Rectory, St. Johanniskirche
****
"These were Father Schumacher's quarters." Margarethe opened
the heavy door, located down a long, drafty corridor. Entering, she pointed at
an inner door. "That is the bedroom. His clothes--"
"Were his quarters?" Hogan asked.
Margarethe nodded.
"He and several other clergymen were taken one night during a Nazi
purge. He was rumored to have been working with the Underground to hide Jewish
children--"
"--Rumored?"
Margarethe nodded, and then hesitantly added, "We never found out
for certain." She walked over to a simple statuette of the Madonna and
Child. Lying next to it was a large, highly ornate crucifix.
"I see..." Hogan said softly. He picked up the crucifix,
admiring its gold, inlaid beauty and its heavy chain. "And the children
currently housed here in the orphanage? Are any of them--?"
Margarethe shook her head. "No!" she quickly.
A little too quickly, Sister, Hogan mused.
"Our children are all Catholic orphans from the local area. And we
even have their Baptism and First Eucharistic records to prove it. The Gestapo
has kept such close tabs on us since Father Schumacher was taken that--"
She stopped abruptly and shrugged.
"They are a terribly efficient organization, Col. Hogan. They even
checked our parish records to ensure that we only housed proper orphans here. And
not 'enemies of the state.'"
She looked up indignantly. "Can you believe that? Mere children considered enemies
of the state! The world has gone insane."
Hogan nodded, his expression neutral. He found it incredulous that in
this time of war and chaotic conditions the church orphanage could possibly
maintain such accurate records to prove the children's Catholicism. However, he
elected to keep his opinions to himself.
"Sister Margarethe!" They turned at the urgent voice. An older
nun in full habit stood at the doorway. "Gestapo!"
"Colonel!" Margarethe said hurriedly. "Quick! You must
hide! This way!" She grabbed him by the arm to lead him away, but Hogan
pushed her and the other nun out the door.
"Don't worry about me!" he told her. "Take care of the
kids!" He shut the door in the women's faces and headed into the bedroom.
"First things first," he muttered. "Gotta get some clothes."
****
[Monday 23 NOV 1942//0105hrs local]
Mother Superior's Office, St. Johanniskirche
****
"~Major Tischler, I am sorry, but we cannot help you.~"
Bernadette spoke calmly, her hands clasped before her. "~We have seen no
such person.~"
"~But of course, Mother Superior,~" Tischler said, arrogantly.
"~Naturally, you will not mind if we take a look around?~" He nodded
at his men, who immediately broke into three, two-man teams and set out.
"~Herr Major, we do indeed mind!~" Margarethe protested. "We
cannot have your men frightening our children!~"
"~Crack soldiers of the Third Reich, frightening the innocent
children of the Fatherland?~" Tischler took a step towards Margarethe.
"Fraulein, such talk is almost treasonous.~"
"~That's our Sister Margarethe for you!~" a voice behind them
quipped. "Always stirring up trouble!~" All eyes turned towards the
sound. Hogan boldly walked up to the Gestapo major, his hand held out.
Margarethe and Bernadette exchanged stunned glances, and then stared at
Hogan and the white collar and ornate crucifix he was wearing. He determinedly
looked away from them, giving the Gestapo major his undivided attention.
"~Major Tischler? Father Hoganmeiser, at your service.~"
Tischler shook hands, eyes narrowed. "~I did not know that the
church had a new priest?~"
"~Oh, I'm just visiting, Herr Major,~" Hogan said. "~It's
the Archbishop's idea, really. He believes it is good for the soul to get back
with the people. Listen to their troubles. Bring comfort.~"
The Gestapo officer glared at him from under hooded eyes. "~Tell me,
Father,~" he said darkly. "~What are you doing in that costume when
the Fatherland needs all her young men?~"
Hogan fingered the large crucifix that hung from his neck. "~That is
a very good question, Herr Major. One which I often ask myself.~" He
paused dramatically, and started to pace. By all outward appearances, he looked
like a man in deep thought.
"~I believe that a man such as myself serves the Fatherland as much
as any of your soldiers. As an officer, you concern yourself with the physical
well being of those under your command. Well, the Church concerns herself with
their spiritual well being. In the end, Herr Major, we all have our jobs to
do.~"
"~Yes, I suppose you are correct, Father. Still--~"
"Herr Major!" The ranking
sergeant appeared at the door and snapped off a salute. "~We have searched
the church, the living quarters, and the infirmary. We have found no sign of
the fugitive.~"
"~Very well, Sergeant!~" Tischler casually returned the salute.
"~Take the men outside. We will return to the assembly point.~"
"Jahwohl, Herr Major!" The
sergeant saluted stiffly, executed an about face, and marched out.
"~Father, Mother Superior...I apologize for the intrusion.~"
Tischler clicked his heels and bowed stiffly. "Auf Weidersehen."
"Auf Weidersehen, Herr Major," Bernadette said softly.
Margarethe nodded at Tischler by way of farewell. Hogan escorted the Gestapo
officer as far as the main outer door.
"Guten Abend, Major Tischler," Hogan said pleasantly,
and then on a whim, added as if saying a blessing, "Vulpem pilum mutat,
non mores."
The major gave him a blank look. Scowling, he touched two fingers to his
high-peaked hat and left.
****
End of Part 1
Continued in Part 2
Hogan's Heroes: The Eagle and the Cross
By: Syl