Act One

Scene Three



– One –

It was the week before Christmas. But it didn't feel like it, Colonel Robert Hogan thought as he walked into the abandoned coalmine behind Klink. The uncertain news about the war made both the prisoners and the Germans unhappy. The new German counteroffensive seemed to be working; Hitler was promising Paris to the Germans as a Christmas present. But there were German defeats in other areas. So, both sides had little to feel cheerful about.

Hogan glanced at Klink's back. Another reason not to feel cheerful. Klink was the coldest, the most unreachable, he had ever been in the three years Hogan had known him. Klink's expression was stern, unreadable; there was no humor in his eyes now, no softness. That episode with the Gestapo a couple of weeks ago still stood between them. Klink barely talked to Hogan, ignoring his presence most of the time, acknowledging it only when he had to. The brief camaraderie they had enjoyed in the days following Dieter Müller's visit was gone. Destroyed by a thoughtless idea.

No, not thoughtless. Hogan had known exactly what he was doing. He didn't want to think of Klink as a person; it would interfere with his future plans. Klink was nothing more than an expendable object. Just a tool to be used or discarded as the need arose. And turning Klink in to the Gestapo proved it.

Then why was he still feeling so rotten about the whole thing?

Those dreams. That's why. Those stupid, mindless dreams. Making him think of Klink as something other than what he was. That picture of what Martinelli had done to Klink, and others like it, kept recurring in Hogan's dreams. Making him feel sorry for Klink, making him think Klink wasn't expendable.

But, damn it, Klink was! He existed only because Hogan had a use for him. And when Hogan no longer had a use for him, Klink would be gone. Just remember that. Klink would be gone.

A glance at Klink's back. Maybe soon if Klink was going to keep acting this way.

Klink glanced back at Hogan, meeting his eyes for a second. Klink, seeming to read Hogan's thoughts, grew even colder.

Kommandant Wilhelm Klink stopped in the farthest reaches of the mine and turned back toward Hogan, waiting for him. The lantern he held cast eerie shadows on the rock walls.

Hogan glanced around uneasily. They were alone here in the darkness. The others were near the entrance, a long way away, their lights flickering in the distance.

"Hogan . . . Hogan."

Almost reluctantly, Hogan turned toward Klink.

"What is the matter with you?" Klink asked irritably.

"What?"

"I said — " He was interrupted by a muffled sound. Bits of debris rained down upon them.

Hogan looked up, startled.

"A bomber dropping its load," Klink guessed, his eyes on the ceiling. It had been reinforced by wooden beams.

"Guess so," Hogan said. For some reason, this mine made him edgy.

Klink glanced at Hogan. There had been an unexpected nervousness in Hogan's voice. "I would think a prisoner would be used to tunnels," Klink said dryly, guessing at the cause of Hogan's uneasiness.

Pride stung Hogan. "What makes you think I'm not?"

Klink almost smiled. "Not a thing. As I told you earlier, while most of the coal has already been mined, there should still be enough pieces around to help heat the barracks." He gestured toward the loose, dark lumps scattered around the chamber. "If you agree, your men can start — "

He never finished the sentence as the ceiling exploded on top of them.

...

Hogan came to slowly, and opened his eyes.

He nearly screamed. He was in absolute darkness, not a hint of any light at all. As the shock wore off, panic began to grip him, strangling his throat. He couldn't seem to breathe and began gasping for air. His hands flailed uselessly; he lost all sense of direction, all sense of himself. His mouth opened, ready to scream.

"Colonel Hogan." Klink's voice sounded faintly in the darkness behind him.

Relief washed over Hogan. Hogan's voice was shaking, though he didn't realize it. "Yes."

A very faint voice, barely audible. "Can . . . Can you see anything?"

The panic nearly swamped Hogan again. "N-o-o." He couldn't hear the near hysteria in his voice.

"Pity," came the unnaturally calm voice. "The entrance to this part of the mine must have collapsed."

A nervous twitter from Hogan.

"Well," said the unexpectedly dry voice, "we will just have to wait until they dig us out."

"If they do." Panic in Hogan's voice.

"Of course, they will," said the voice. "Your men will dig for you; mine will dig for me. It is just a matter of time."

"The air . . . I can't breathe . . . " Hogan's voice was harsh.

"There is plenty of air," soothed the voice. "Lie still and take deep breaths. Go on, do it!" A command. "One . . . two . . . "

Slowly, Hogan complied. Gradually, his harsh breathing returned to normal.

"Better?" the voice asked.

Hogan nodded, unseen. "Yes." His voice was much calmer.

"Good. Can you move? Cautiously."

Hogan checked. "Not really. My arms are free and it feels like there's a big chunk of rock across my waist. But it's not too bad; I can move my legs a little. And I've got a headache," he added.

A faint, "So do I. Are you lying on anything?"

"No. Just the ground."

"Then you should be fine. Just stay still and enjoy the rest."

"Rest?" A touch of his normal humor. "This is not the most comfortable bed I've ever been in."

"Nor I." Klink broke off in a fit of coughing.

Hogan's head turned toward the back. "Kommandant?"

Slowly, Klink's voice cleared. "Some dirt still in my mouth."

"Are you all right?"

Suddenly, Hogan remembered the last time he had asked that question. And Klink's answer. Did he really care? Of course not. He had never cared about Klink. And he never would. After all, how could you care about . . . ?

Don't hurt . . .

Hogan forced the memory away.

"As you said, this is not the most comfortable bed to be in."

"Kommandant, you had the lantern."

"I am afraid that is gone," Klink said.

"So, no light." A glimmer of the panic again in Hogan's voice.

"Oh, well," a nonchalant voice, "I do some of my best thinking in the dark."

"Well, I'm not too crazy about it," Hogan said.

"Oh, why?"

"Claustrophobia," Hogan found himself admitting. "Ever since I was a kid, I've hated this kind of dark."

"I've always thought of the dark as a friend," Klink said surprisingly.

"Why?" Hogan asked, nervousness still in his voice.

"It was my world. When it was dark, I could be anything I wanted, do anything I wanted," Klink said quietly. "I could forget about school, or parents, or anything else I didn't like. And no one could bother me there."

"Never thought of it that way." The nervousness eased a little. "I always thought there were all kinds of monsters just waiting to grab me."

"Maybe that's the difference, Colonel Hogan; I saw the monsters in the daytime." Klink changed the subject. "Tell me about your childhood, Colonel Hogan. You were born in Cleveland as I remember."

"Uh, yeah. Know anything about it?"

"It's in Ohio, is it not?"

"You know your geography, Kommandant."

"I've always enjoyed it. Especially studying your country. All those thousands of miles and still the same country. It seemed so unbelievable."

"I guess Europe's not like that."

"No. Just a few miles, and it is a totally different world. Different languages, customs, prejudices."

Hogan's head turned toward the voice behind him in surprise.

"Tell me about Ohio, Colonel Hogan," Klink said.

"Well, it's green and big and . . . "

On the other side of the wall of stone, both prisoners and Germans dug anxiously through rubble.

...

The hours passed. Hogan kept talking, coaxed on by Klink's faint voice. Whenever Hogan faltered, Klink questioned or cajoled as needed. Finally, the sounds of digging that had been getting louder, stopped.

Hogan stopped talking, his head turning toward the place the sounds had been loudest. "They've stopped!"

"They must be close," Klink said in that faint voice.

"They've given up!"

"They must be very close now," Klink said. "They have to be careful. They don't know where we are on this side of the rubble."

Hogan wet his dry lips nervously. "I hope you're right."

A sudden noise to his right startled him. A large rock tumbled noisily to the ground.

"Colonel! Colonel Hogan!" It was Carter.

"Right here, Carter!" Hogan called, relief washing over him. He could see a bit of light now. The darkness was no longer absolute. With the returning light, his confidence returned.

"Kommandant!" Schultz called.

"Colonel Hogan," came Klink's faint voice, "can you see anything yet?"

Hogan grinned. "Yeah! Schultz!"

"Kommandant?" again from Schultz.

"He's fine, Schultz," Hogan answered. "He's somewhere behind me."

"Colonel," Carter asked, "how close are you to the hole?"

"Uh, about six feet to the left of it," Hogan estimated.

"Okay, that's good," Carter replied. "We can break it in then. Just sit tight, sir. We'll be through in just a little bit."

The little bit was an hour but Hogan had never felt so relieved. It was over. Finally, over.

In the near darkness, they lifted the final piece of rock from his legs. Hogan sat up gingerly with Baker's help.

"Everything all right, sir?" A grimy Newkirk asked. "Nothing broken?"

"No, I feel great. Help me up, will you?"

"Right, sir." Newkirk gave Hogan a hand up and then helped him out of the rear chamber.

Without looking back, without pausing to rest, Hogan walked quickly to the entrance of the mine.

A couple of dozen men, mainly guards, were waiting outside. An ambulance also waited, a doctor standing patiently beside it. The doctor hurried over to Hogan.

Hogan waved him off. "I'm fine. Just a few bruises." He grinned and took a deep breath of the cold afternoon air. "Just fine."

Newkirk grinned as well and handed him a canteen of water. "Well, you look a proper mess, sir."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Hogan brushed ineffectually at the dirt in his hair. Then taking a drink of the water, he spotted Schultz coming out of the cave.

"Schultz!" He was cheerful, glad to be alive and out of that place. He could afford to think of Klink for once. "Where's the Kommandant?"

"Still inside," Schultz said heavily. Then a quick order to some of the soldiers in German. They hurried inside.

Hogan was still cheerful. "He'll be out soon, right?"

Schultz looked at him.

The smile froze on Hogan's face. "He's right behind me, isn't he?"

Schultz slowly shook his head. "No, Colonel Hogan. He is trapped behind a pile of rubble larger than the one we dug through earlier."

Hogan was stunned. "But . . . I could hear him."

"There is a small gap right near where you were lying, Colonel Hogan. That is why you could hear him."

"So you can get to him through that."

Schultz looked at him bleakly. "No, Colonel Hogan, we cannot."

"Why not?" Hogan asked harshly.

A sigh. "It would be better if you saw for yourself."

"Back in there?" Panic again rising up inside him.

Schultz looked surprised, but the surprise faded quickly. "No. Go back to camp, Colonel Hogan. Have some food and rest. We will try to dig him out."

That startled Hogan. "What do you mean, try?"

"It is very difficult," Schultz said heavily. "There is quite a lot of debris and the ceiling is unstable."

Hogan stood quite still. "You're going to leave him in there," he said tonelessly.

Schultz looked hurt. "We have no intention of leaving him in there. But it will take time to dig him out. And we must be careful. We think that there is not much room between the debris and the back wall. And we do not know where he is in there. If we dig in the wrong place, we might accidentally bury him."

Hogan shuddered, remembering his own fear of such a fate. It had been almost as bad as the dark — not knowing where he was. He had lifted his hands cautiously, trying to determine if there was anything over him. There hadn't been.

Well, Klink should be all right in there.

"Come on, sir," LeBeau was saying. "Let's get back to camp and get you cleaned up. Get some food into you."

"Yeah," Hogan said absently. Then . . .

"Uh, wait a minute." Come to think of it, Klink never did say how he was. "I just want to see what's going on."

"But . . . " LeBeau's protest fell on Hogan's retreating back.

With puzzled looks, LeBeau and the others hurried after Hogan as he went back into the tunnel.

...

Hogan wet his dry lips nervously as he approached the caved-in chamber. But now it wasn't empty. It was filled with soldiers, standing around, waiting for orders. And there was a lot more light in the front section of it.

Hogan stood at the entrance to the chamber in which he had been trapped, stunned at what he saw. A wall of debris, soil, rock and wooden beams divided the chamber in two. The wall extended nearly to the ceiling. Only a small gap on the left side separated it from the roof. And down where Hogan had lain was a small hole. Two huge beams protruded from the mess out into the middle of the chamber.

Hogan shuddered; he'd just missed being buried under all that rubble.

One of the younger, more agile soldiers was on top of the debris, near the gap, pulling sand and dirt out to widen it.

"Klink's behind there?" Hogan asked, an unexpected sinking feeling in his stomach.

Schultz nodded. "Jawohl. Those two beams seem to be near him. But we don't yet know where or how he is trapped. We won't know until we can get some light in there."

Hogan leaned against the wall, his mouth suddenly dry.

LeBeau tugged at his arm. "Come on, mon Colonel," he urged.

Hogan let himself be pulled out of the room. Out in the tunnel, he stopped, gulping in deep breaths of air. He'd had trouble breathing in that cell.

"Come on, sir," Newkirk was saying. "Let's get out of here."

"There's no light behind that wall," Hogan mumbled, remembering.

"A little, sir," Baker said uneasily. "Some of it should be getting through that hole and from the top."

They had never seen him so shaken before. Of course, a cave-in was enough to spook any man.

Hogan wasn't listening. Klink was trapped in there. No light. Probably little air. He couldn't have much room to move around back there. And there was no one to talk to. No one. Klink was alone. Totally alone in that darkness.

So? Klink was expendable. Remember? Expendable . . .

"Tell me about your childhood."

Alone. Totally alone.

No. He couldn't leave Klink alone in there. At least, not without checking how he was. He owed Klink that much.

To the surprise of his men, Hogan pushed himself away from the wall and went back inside the cave. He nearly bumped into Schultz as he entered.

Schultz was startled to see him. "Colonel Hogan?"

"Can you see him yet?" Hogan asked, his voice sounding more normal.

"No," Schultz admitted. "In another minute or two, we should have the gap at the top wide enough to see the other side."

"You're going to send someone in, aren't you? To stay with him?"

Schultz shook his head. "We need everyone to help dig."

"Then I'm going in," Hogan said.

"Thank you, Colonel Hogan," Schultz said as cries of surprise rose from the prisoners. "But it could be dangerous in there. And you should rest. Return to camp, Colonel."

"No," he said in a voice that brooked no argument. "I want a strong light and a canteen."

Schultz looked at the determination on his face. "All right, Colonel Hogan. We will get them for you." He turned to another guard and gave the order.

Meanwhile, the soldier on top of the wall had peered over it. Blanching, he hurried back down and began talking excitedly to Schultz.

"Slowly, Otto," Schultz said. "Slowly. What did you see?"

"The Kommandant!" the soldier whispered. "He is almost completely buried. Only his head is free. I cannot see the rest of him."

Hogan paled. Klink hadn't said a word. He had assumed that Klink had been trapped as he had. But he could move his hands and his legs had been free. It was only those rocks pinning his waist that had trapped him. Rocks too large to move by himself.

Klink had been immobile in that absolute darkness. Completely.

Hogan shuddered. He would have gone mad in there. He nearly did, except for . . .

"Colonel," Newkirk was saying, "you can't be serious. This isn't your concern. Let them take care of it."

"All of them are needed to dig," Hogan said.

"So?"

"He's alone in there," Hogan said in a soft voice. "No light."

"They'll put a lamp in there," Carter said.

Hogan looked at him. "He can't move!"

"Sir." Newkirk looked at Schultz who moved a short distance away. "This is Klink we're talking about. Remember? Let them handle it. It's no concern of yours."

"Yes, it is." Hogan's voice was shaking now. "You don't get it, do you?"

They looked at each other uneasily.

"He never said anything," Hogan whispered. "He just kept me talking, never let me stop. Never let me think about the darkness, or how thirsty I was, or how dirty, or that I was stuck under that stupid rock. I couldn't forget those things, but he never let me feel alone. Not for one minute." He had to swallow the unexpected lump in his throat. "If it weren't for him, I would have gone nuts." He caught their startled glances. "Yeah, me. The brave American colonel. Afraid of the dark."

"Colonel," Kinch said slowly, "it would have scared anyone."

"It didn't scare him," Hogan said. "And he's a lot worse off than I was."

"Then he doesn't need your help," LeBeau said brightly.

"How do you know?!" Hogan demanded. "You weren't stuck in there." The shakiness was back in his voice. "Can you even begin to imagine what it's like? To be completely blind, buried, unable to move so much as a finger. Wondering if the next breath would bring more dirt or rock on top of you. And unable to do a thing if it did. I can't leave him. This time . . . This time, I can't!"

Hogan stalked away, feeling their eyes on him.

"I don't get it," Carter said in a whisper. "The Colonel hates Klink. You'd think he'd enjoy this."

"Maybe he doesn't hate him after all," Baker said softly.

"The Colonel's tired," LeBeau said. "And doesn't know what he's doing."

"Oh, he knows all right," Newkirk said with disgust. "He's helping that bloody Kraut."

Kinch shook his head. "No. Not the bloody Kraut."

The others looked at him in surprise.

"Amazing what you can see in the dark."

Blank looks from the others.

"No uniforms, no slogans, not even Germans or Americans," Kinch said. "Just two men, isolated, scared, with no one to rely on except each other. A voice making sure that you're not alone. That's what the Colonel saw. And it kept him going. And right now, that's all he sees. Not a uniform, or a German. Not even Klink. Just a man, trapped, needing help, who had helped him when he needed it."

"And after this is over?" Newkirk asked.

Kinch shrugged. "Who knows? But for now, it doesn't really matter." He glanced at Hogan, who stood looking up at the wall. "Not to him." A sudden grin. "Well, I'm already dirty. What's a bit more dirt? Right?"

The others looked at him and shrugged.

"What the hell?" Newkirk said. "I've got nothing better to do."