This story is the result of the Plot Bunny Challenge posted on Smartgroups. The "bunny" I adopted asked that I explore Louis Le Beau's feelings about the liberation of Paris on 25 August 1944, given the events of "Cuisine a la Stalag 13" and "Is General Hammerschlag Burning?" And as the boys do love adventure, this is my take on the events of that period, and the involvement of the POWs of Stalag 13 in them.
No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.
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"Message from London, Colonel."
Sergeant James Kinchloe handed the small blue piece of paper over to his commanding officer and watched the man's face. Robert Hogan, US Army Air Corps, accepted the note, scanned its contents, then raised his eyebrows. "Do we know any more?" Hogan asked.
"Not yet, sir."
"Get on the horn to the Underground. Find out what's going on." Hogan paused, knowing there was harder work ahead. "Where's Louis?"
Kinchloe shrugged. "He was doing laundry out in the yard when I last saw him. I'm not sure now."
Hogan nodded and put the paper in the pocket of his brown leather bomber jacket. "Let me tell him," he said.
"Right, Colonel."
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Still clutching the secret note that Kinch had passed him, Hogan regarded Corporal Louis Le Beau from a distance. The Frenchman had been one of the first people Hogan had met almost two years ago when he came to this prisoner of war camp, Stalag 13, near a small place called Hammelburg in Nazi Germany. And he was one of the few people Hogan could trust as head of a secret sabotage and espionage unit the Colonel operated right out of the camp.
Now, watching the small patriot seemingly lost in his own world, the Colonel almost regretted having to intrude. But it was not to be avoided, and so he approached as Le Beau rather forcefully wrung out a shirt and started hanging it on a makeshift clothesline.
"Still at it, Le Beau," Hogan observed, rounding to the wall of the barracks so he could lean casually against it. At least that's how he hoped it looked.
Le Beau paused in his work, surprised by the American's presence, and squinted in the morning sun before turning back to the task at hand. "Oui, Colonel," he said. "I promised Schultz I would wash a couple of his shirts the other night to get him to tell us when Kommandant Klink was planning his surprise bed check."
Hogan nodded with a smile at the thought of the big Sergeant of the Guard, Hans Schultz. "Now there's an enemy to always have on your side," Hogan said. He paused. "We got a message this morning, Louis."
"What is it, Colonel?" the Corporal asked, starting to scrub another shirt. He froze when Hogan didn't answer right away. "Colonel?" he prompted, concerned.
Hogan took in and let out a heavy sigh, and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. "The Krauts are mining Paris," he said finally, reluctantly.
All the color drained out of the small man's face. "Le Père, le Fils et le Saint-Esprit," he said in barely a whisper. The shirt fell back into the dirty water. "Colonel…"
Hogan came away from the wall and put his hand on Le Beau's arm. "I know, Louis. I'm finding out all I can. You know Hitler brought in General von Choltitz as 'Fortress Commander' of Paris a few days ago, and our Intelligence says Hitler told him to operate under the Scorched Earth policy if it looks like the Allies are going to take back the city." He felt Le Beau's arm trembling beneath his hand. "But so far everything's okay, Louis," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "There are a lot of members of the French Resistance in Paris. I'm sure they're getting ready to act."
"Or waiting like sitting ducks to be killed!" Le Beau replied, uncomforted. "Colonel—I have family in Paris. Cousins. Aunts and uncles. Things are very bad in Paris now. There is no electricity in most places, no coal, no gas. People are cooking meals on campfires in the streets. There is no bread, there is little butter. There are vegetable patches in the middle of the beautiful Jardin des Tuileries. People have no place to go—they are trapped where they are. And for les Boches to dare think of blowing it up—"
"I'm sorry, Louis," Hogan said. "The best I can do at the moment is keep us up to date on what's going on." He lowered his eyes to the ground, feeling helpless in the face of Le Beau's anguish. "And I promise you, if there's anything we can do to help… we'll do it."
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"What are they saying, Kinch? What is going on?"
Kinch waved a hand impatiently as Le Beau came charging down the ladder to the tunnel under Barracks Two, practically drowning out the voice on the other end of the radio. The Sergeant furrowed his brow, listening intently, and resumed scribbling on the paper before him, shrugging to avoid having the Frenchman breathe into the back of his neck while he craned to see what was being written down. Louis should know better anyway, he thought; only Hogan could translate the radio man's scrawl.
Finally, Kinch said words of acknowledgement into the microphone, then signed off. He put the headsets down and looked up at the Frenchman, who was almost dancing beside the desk. "Louis, I can't hear anything when you yell in my ear like that," he said.
"Sorry, Kinch. But mon Colonel told me you were going to talk to the Underground. What do they say?" Le Beau asked, still moving constantly.
"Nothing; everything is still intact."
"And that's it?" Le Beau said in disbelief. "That's all they could tell you? Did they not say what the Allies are doing to stop it?"
"Yes, that's all they could tell me, and no, they didn't fill me in on invasion details over the radio. I have to report to Colonel Hogan. Come on, you can listen in."
Le Beau scrambled up the ladder behind Kinch and trailed him to the Colonel's small office that doubled as his quarters in the hut. Kinch knocked and entered, to find Hogan sitting at his desk, studying a map and frowning. "I've got some information from the Underground, sir," Kinch began when Hogan didn't look up immediately.
Hogan nodded, pre-occupied. "Uh-huh," he said vaguely. He continued studying the document before him. Kinch waited. Le Beau crossed his arms and rocked on his heels. Finally Hogan let out a long breath and shook his head. "I just don't know where they'll be," he said cryptically, running a hand through his dark hair.
"Who, Colonel?" Kinch asked.
Hogan looked at the Sergeant like he just realized he was in the room. "Dubois and Tiger," he said, thinking of the two members of the Resistance with whom he had more than once worked closely to ruin the Nazis' plans. "They're bound to be in Paris somewhere. I want to try to contact them… just to… make sure they're safe," he said, deliberately avoiding saying aloud what he didn't want to think, even to himself.
"They'll be okay, Colonel," Kinch said. "They're resourceful."
"That they are," Hogan admitted reluctantly. "So, what do you have, Kinch?" he asked, purposefully turning his attention away from his worry.
"Well, we know where the Krauts have already set explosives—"
"Filthy Boches," Le Beau spat.
Hogan glanced at the Frenchman. He felt badly that he could not prevent these terrible events from happening, and worse that he could not stop them now that they had begun. "Louis, are you sure you want to hear this?" Hogan asked him.
"Oui," Le Beau answered. "I want to know exactly how many bombs there are so I know exactly how many Nazis I have to kill to get my revenge."
Hogan said nothing in response to that, but only looked instead more intently at Kinch. "Where?" he asked flatly.
"Well," Kinch started, looking uncomfortably at Le Beau, "the 813th Pionierkompanie started on the bridges that cross the Seine—"
"Formidable," Le Beau muttered.
Kinch ignored him and continued. "Then they went for the electricity and water plants," he said.
"Boches," came the Frenchman's voice again.
"The Nazis have also mined the Palais du Luxembourg, the Chamber of Deputies, and the French Foreign Office, the telephone exchanges, the railroad station, the aircraft plant and all the major factories in the area," he said all in one breath, hoping to hold off further outbursts from Le Beau.
"Sacré bleu!"
Hogan glanced at the Corporal, then said to Kinch, "Any other good news?"
"Just one more," the Sergeant finished. Hogan crossed his arms and braced himself. "There are U-boat torpedoes in a tunnel under the city. If they blow, half the city will go with them."
Hogan brought a hand up to his eyes, feeling a headache starting behind them already. And at the moment he couldn't look at Le Beau, whom he could hear now letting off a string of impolite phrases, most of which Hogan considered far too restrained in light of the news he had just heard. "What else is going on?" Hogan asked weakly.
"Intelligence has intercepted a message from Hitler ordering the Gestapo and all non-combat administrators to evacuate Paris."
Hogan nodded. "So he's expecting things to get moving soon."
"Looks like it. And the Underground also reports that von Choltitz has been ordered—"
Kinch paused. Hogan looked at Le Beau, whose eyes were wide and huge against a now almost white face. "Go on," Hogan said quietly.
"He's been ordered to start the destruction of Paris."
Hogan caught Le Beau by the arm as the Frenchman sank to his knees. He helped ease the man down, but the Corporal wasn't in a faint; far from it—he almost seemed to be in a trance. His lips were moving non-stop in prayer, and he was staring at nothing as Hogan led him to the bunk across the room. "Kinch, get some water," he said.
Kinch moved instantly, and within seconds was back with a cup. Hogan took it and tried to get the water to Le Beau's lips. "Come on, Louis. Take this; take a drink."
"I'm sorry, Colonel," Kinch said quietly.
Hogan shook his head as Le Beau grasped the cup and drank mechanically. "It's not your fault," Hogan replied. "I should have known he wouldn't be able to take hearing that."
Le Beau started muttering a little more loudly. "What is it, Louis?" Hogan asked, trying to read the man's thoughts.
"It is not your fault, Kinch," Le Beau said, finally locking his eyes in the present and turning them to his friend. "It is not anyone's fault but les Boches. They will destroy my home. And I will destroy them." He looked at Hogan, a fire burning in his eyes. "I must go to Paris, Colonel," he said determinedly.
"Louis, you can't go there now—it's not safe there now. You know what the Nazis are planning to do—"
"I know what they are planning to do—and I must be there with my people when they do it!" Le Beau insisted, anger lashing out at his commanding officer. "You do not know what it is like—the Germans have never attacked you as they have attacked us! Shamed you as they have shamed us! If it is to happen, then I will die as a Frenchman, in France, free and proud! Not sitting in a prison camp, cowered and caged like an animal. I will go, Colonel. I will go tonight."
Hogan accepted Le Beau's anger without taking it personally. He understood the rage welling within the man—it was true, the United States did not have Germans marching down the streets of Washington, rubbing Americans' faces in their stunning and swift defeat. But they had the memory of Pearl Harbor, and the devastating reality of that unexpected and tragic blow—on their own territory, against their own men, in their own souls. But no purpose would be served by Le Beau's return to a city on the brink of destruction. And much as he appreciated the Frenchman's patriotism, his consuming love of country, he still hoped against hope that the Corporal would look beyond that devotion, and accept the Colonel's words, at least for now.
"Louis," Hogan said, not sure even as he spoke what words would be coming out of his mouth. "Louis. Can you give me till tomorrow? Let me see what I can find out. Let me see if there's anything we can do. If I can't think of a plan, I'll let you go home, I promise. But give me a few hours; that's all I'm asking for. Will you do that for me? Please?"
Le Beau's eyes wandered the room as he seemed to consider Hogan's plea. Could he wait? Should he? Could Hogan do anything that the entire French Resistance could not? And in less than twenty-four hours? He looked at his commanding officer, studying him, trying to look into him, past him, to tomorrow. Hogan accepted the examination unflinchingly, almost pleadingly. And in the midst of his despair, Le Beau made his decision.
"D'accord, mon Colonel. I will wait until tomorrow. You know, my grandfather helped build the Eiffel Tower," he said. "I do not want to see it destroyed. He would be very upset." He looked at Hogan. "And I do not know that there is anything that can be done if Hitler decides that he wants to leave the French with nothing." He paused. "But if anyone can find a way, Colonel, it is you. And I will give you that chance."
Hogan nodded once, emotion threatening to spill out from behind his eyes. "I'll do my best, Louis," he said hoarsely. "I promise you that. I'll do everything I can."
Le Beau seemed to come into himself at that, and he smiled and patted Hogan lightly on the arm. "I know you will, mon ami," he said softly. "But please… please… do it soon."