For Country and Men
Note and Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own the characters of Hogan's Heroes, but I do own all of the created characters in the story (and thank everybody that this show was created). While Colonel Michalovich is featured in this story as a character, she is not the narrator, but someone new telling the story. I somehow actually got this idea from a previous Hogan's Heroes that I wrote ("Crash Landing", now edited to my satisfaction somewhat and corrected mostly), something that I had been thinking about for a while today. After all, what was Stalag 13 before it held prisoners of war from various air forces…?
Hammelburg, Germany, April 21, 1944: a warm and breezy spring night it was, one that could not tell of our plans, not even in a whisper. I looked out of my binoculars, waiting for our intended target – a Kraut General – and sighed. He was running late, as usual (probably eating all of the caviar and drinking all of the wine he wanted). He was also coming out from Stalag 13, where Papa Bear – Colonel Robert Hogan – was. And he and his men were supposed to get him out of the camp early so that we could kidnap him and our plan comes into action.
Our target for the kidnapping: General Albert Burkhalter, in charge of the Luft-Stalag administration in Hitler's Nazi Germany.
Our goal in this abduction: to teach the Germans a lesson in humility and to warn them of the power of the past, both people and events.
"Gerald, do you see anything yet?" My friend in the Nazi Resistance (different from the Underground, but we connect occasionally), Julius, asked me as I put down my binoculars once more. "What did Helga say to you earlier, when you visited her before she went to work for that insolent colonel?"
"My sister said nothing to me about much," I replied, somewhat sharply, especially when someone mentioned my little sister working in danger. "She told me about some of the prisoner activities, about the female prisoner's new activities –"
"Female prisoner? There should be no such thing at Stalag 13! It's unbelievable!"
I sighed with frustration, knowing the whole story, but not wishing to share anything with Julius. He knew that I had Russian connections, since my mother was one, and that one of her more recent friends happened to be the father of the woman at Stalag 13. In turn, I knew the stories about her, I knew the circumstances of her spying career and I knew the woman somewhat (an annoying little hellcat, for sure). I just don't like to share anything.
For, after all, being a Jew in Germany – and working on the Resistance after being a prisoner – was no laughing matter. Even more dangerous was spying on the camp that used to be my home for many months, along with Helga. Escaping, we changed identities and got normal jobs, remained in Germany to help take down the regime and have hoped for a better tomorrow.
"Well, then…tell me more about Helga." Julius licked his lips, for sure picturing my blonde secretary sister who changed her name and took the role of being a German Aryan woman who served Germany well. She was so secretive about her identity that even she played her part very well, not even celebrating our holidays and festivals anymore, taking on her new role completely. Such a dangerous nature to do so, I should think, but it saved her so many times before.
"Why should I?" I asked as a response, annoyed still at this…womanizer…that I have had to work with for some years now. "We have a mission to carry out and all I hear from you is what my sister said or you asking me what she said. I'm sorry, but she is a single woman and I don't want her looking at the likes of you for quite a while! I didn't tolerate Hogan at her throat. Why should I let you have a go?"
"Well, while I was down at the tunnels once, she was the manicurist and she was perfect at her job at that barbershop. I loved it, especially when I was down there last and asking for a complete makeover, for when I traveled through Germany, on assignment to get Hitler and assassinate him…"
"I don't want to hear it, Julius, and I had better –"
"Hey, wait, is that a car I hear?" Julius interrupted my rant and hushed me quickly, the crickets of spring masking our movement in the bushes. "Shh, Gerald! I think General Burkhalter's car is coming!"
I quickly took the binoculars and looked down the road, trying to figure out where the noises came from. Left and right, I searched meticulously, cursing Julius' superb hearing (and sight, I must add, because he claimed the car was coming from the right), until I saw the small cloud of dust down the road, on the right like he said. Yes, it was a car. Yes, it looked important. And yes, it was General Burkhalter's car, as I saw that fat tub of lard sitting in the back. I even saw the license plate number immediately and grinned.
"I guess Hogan and his men came out this time," Julius hissed with contempt (for this Burkhalter, most likely, as do we all, or for the Germans in general), taking his gun out of his canvas bag, putting the silencer on and aiming for the car's tires. "I hope the General likes his dessert cold tonight…"
"Wait a moment," I cautioned, still watching the car drive, but it was usually in vain. Julius did things his way, always had a way out when he was in trouble and was awarded for his efforts…usually. Hogan also liked to lecture him on his recklessness.
Julius, without thinking, then fired his gun, aiming true and hitting Burkhalter's car tire as his driver skidded towards our hiding spot. Sliding and stopping, in control of the car mostly, the driver put the vehicle on its brakes and turned it off as it halted, coming out of the car and looking at the tire that was hit.
"You fool! What is wrong with it now?" We heard Burkhalter yell at his driver and some muttering from his fat, shiny lips afterward.
"I think the tire has been…well, destroyed somehow, Sir," the driver replied. "We need to put the spare on."
And that was our cue, center stage and ready to play our parts.
Taking out my gun, I jumped out of the bushes (dropping my binoculars in the process), with Julius behind me, and put the gun to the driver's head in a warning motion. He then immediately saw what was going on and put his hands up in surrender.
"You won't be needing to fix that tire anymore now," I said threatening, menacingly.
Julius, in the meantime, had taken the General out of his car and dragged him on his knees onto the dirt road. Muttering phases which I could not understand (something about him being a filthy Kraut, which was normal), Julius had Burkhalter begging for his life in whimpering tones, whiny words that told us how much he valued his life more than ever before.
"What do you want from me? Money? Positions? Medals? You can have them! You can have them! Just let me go!" Burkhalter folded his hands in a prayer-like stance, like the little Christian that he probably wasn't, one of the many Lutherans that condemned our people in Germany.
"Go," I commanded the driver, who ran off in the direction of Stalag 13 (Julius had thought to kill him off, but I said we needed somebody to tell that fool, Klink, that Burkhalter was kidnapped, the note for a "ransom" to be sent later). Then, to Burkhalter: "We want nothing, General Burkhalter…just you. And only you."
"Wh-what do you mean?" Burkhalter looked like he was about to cry, knowing that he was probably about to meet his Maker if he didn't do what we told him to do.
"He means," Julius said, "that we only want you and only you. We don't need Klink. We don't need anybody else. Just you."
"I-I-I don't understand…" Burkhalter started.
"All and all, General, I think we'll come to an understanding soon enough," I replied, nodding as two more men from the Nazi Resistance came to pick up the General. "Just when we need answers, you'll be there."