THE TIES THAT BIND
Teresa Strati
No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred and in no way intends to infringe upon the privileges of the holders of the copyrights, trademarks, or other legal rights of the Hogan's Heroes Universe.
Text and original characters copyright 2005 by Teresa Strati
CHAPTER ONE
A MEAL BEST SERVED COLD
Corporal Louis Le Beau stirred the vegetable mêlée in the pot on the small black barrel stove in the centre of what was known as Barracks Two of the German Prisoner of War camp, Stalag 13.
Sergeant Andrew Carter loitered close by, waiting for his time to steal a taste. He'd been waiting the better part of an hour and still Le Beau had not left the pot unattended.
"We're not having vegetables again, are we?" RAF Corporal Peter Newkirk asked while trying to patch another hole in his favourite sock.
"Ratatouille is not just vegetables!" Le Beau screeched, holding the wooden spoon dangerously close to Newkirk. "What do you want? Turkey?"
Seeing his chance, Carter quickly picked some vegetables from the pot and swallowed them. Le Beau turned around just as Carter closed his mouth. "Your mother never taught you to wash your hands first?" he admonished, now waving the spoon in front of him.
Newkirk savoured the look of discomfort on Carter's face as the Sergeant tried to hastily consume the mêlée without burning too much off the top of his mouth. "She obviously didn't tell him that anything cooking on a stove is hot, either."
The bunk bed that led to Tunnel Two rose and Sergeant James Kinchloe climbed out. "Where's the Colonel?" Kinch asked.
United States Army Air Corps Colonel Robert Hogan came out from his room and joined his men at the common room table in the centre of the barracks. "What have we got?"
Kinch handed his Colonel the decoded message. Hogan didn't sit down. He rested one foot on the chair before him at the table and read out the orders to his men. "Top priority. Two packages. Strike offensive tomorrow night."
"Blimey! Where's the offensive?" Newkirk asked
Hogan shrugged. "I guess that's why they're sending us packages," he said
"And it's a nice night for it, too." All eyes were on Carter. "The packages I mean…"
"Colonel, you're not going to ask me to go out with him tonight, are you? He hasn't been himself lately." Newkirk bemoaned.
"Only if you both promise to be back by midnight."
"That's just dandy, that is," Newkirk whined .
"Kinch, call London and confirm pickup tonight."
"Yes, sir," Kinch acknowledged as he made his way back to the tunnel.
On his way to his room, Colonel Hogan noticed the pot on the stove. He stopped, savoured the aroma then scooped out a vegetable piece with his fingers and popped it in his mouth.
Le Beau stood transfixed. Carter opened his mouth to say something when suddenly he found Newkirk's hand smashed unceremoniously against it.
...000…
Sergeant Hans Schultz was making his routine patrol around the camp when he came close to his favourite place in the entire camp. He leaned against the door, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Mmmmm, dinner time," he muttered to himself. Shouldering his rifle, he slowly opened the door, closed his eyes and inhaled; savouring the pungent aroma wafting to him from within. It was beckoning a connoisseur like himself to inspect further.
Newkirk couldn't believe it. The door to the barracks and the tunnel entrance were opening simultaneously. Instantly he threw himself on the bed crushing the opening from Tunnel Two, the muffled sounds beneath him unmistakable.
Schultz manoeuvred his ample girth into the barracks, making a beeline for the stove.
"Le Beau, what have you cooked tonight?" Schultz asked with childlike delight.
"What do you think I've cooked? The same thing I cooked yesterday! The same thing I cooked the day before! What do you think I can possibly cook in a place like this and with lazy prisoners that do not want to help me in the vegetable garden!" Le Beau yelled.
"I know." Schultz sympathised. "Believe me, it is so hard to get a good meal these days." He looked around the room, then back at Le Beau and whispered, "Do you think I can have a taste?"
"At least you have the decency to ask!" Le Beau commended. "Not like some people."
"You would have said no." Carter retorted.
"Exactly!" Le Beau yelled. In the space of an hour his wooden spoon had been pointed at everyone.
Schultz saw Newkirk fidget nervously on the bunk. "What is wrong with Newkirk? He doesn't look too good," he asked Le Beau.
"Nothing, Schultz. Just gave my heart a little start when you walked in like that, that's all," he said, placing his hand over his heart. It was beating so fast he feared he really would have a coronary.
"I have been on duty," he said to no one in particular, taking the wooden spoon from Le Beau and stirring the pot. "I did not have dinner." Then Le Beau watched, horrified, as Schultz removed a spoonful of vegetables and immediately put it in his mouth.
"What does everybody think this is: Vichyssoise1?" Le Beau yelled out in exasperation.
Colonel Hogan heard the commotion from his room and joined his men. He had forgotten that Schultz was on patrol.
"Hi Schultz!" he called out. He didn't miss Newkirk's nervous fidgeting on the tunnel bunk bed. "Klink got you on patrol again, Schultz?"
"Ah, the Kommandant always has me on patrol…" Schultz answered with a mouth full of food. "Whenever he has a bad day, I end up on patrol." He swallowed hard then whispered to Le Beau imploringly, "Le Beau, would you mind if I had another taste?" Then sheepishly explained to Hogan, "the patrol is making me hungry and I can't afford to lose any more weight. It takes so long to get another uniform!"
"We have plenty of leftovers, Schultz." Hogan said .
"What leftovers?" Le Beau asked incredulously.
"You know. The leftovers." Hogan darted his eyes to Newkirk lying on the tunnel bunk bed.
"Of course! The leftovers!" Le Beau turned the pot handle towards Schultz "Here, Schultz. You came just in time."
"Are you sure?" Schultz asked excited
"Absolutely. These are all for you. To eat in your barracks. Now go, go before it gets cold." Le Beau pushed Schultz out the door but as he shut it, Schultz poked his head in and in earnest declared, "Le Beau, you know, you mustn't cook so much. It is wasteful."
"I'll remember for next time." Le Beau closed the door behind him.
Newkirk immediately jumped off the bunk bed and hit the access panel. "How can you possibly waste anything with that carnivore we have walking around!" he asked.
Kinch stumbled out, nearly colliding with Newkirk in his haste. "I almost broke my neck!" Kinch yelled at Newkirk. "Warn me next time!"
"I couldn't!" Newkirk tried to explain.
"We have a problem, Colonel," Kinch said, handing Hogan the new message from London.
"I know!" Hogan cried. "We're all going to bed hungry!" He read the message. "This is it? They can't give us any more information?"
"No sir. Radio silence effective immediately," Kinch added.
"Well, how do they want us to do this?" Hogan asked.
"Do what, Gov'?" Newkirk asked
"London suspects one of the packages is a double agent. We're to expose and eliminate the double agent then follow through with the mission."
Everyone started talking at once until Hogan raised his hand to get some silence in the room.
"Colonel, how are we going to expose them without exposing ourselves at the same time?" Carter asked fearfully.
Hogan began pacing. It helped him think. "We can't."
"Does London suspect this double agent will leak the mission details to the Gestapo?" Newkirk asked
"Generally speaking they usually have to go through other channels but …" Suddenly he stopped his pacing. "Of course! The Gestapo!"
"See what has happened?" Le Beau yelled at Newkirk; the wooden spoon finding its way in his hand again. "I had to give my famous ratatouille to Schultz and now our Colonel cannot concentrate from lack of hunger!"
"Go directly to the source… only the Gestapo will not be the Gestapo at all," Kinch surmised.
"Exactly. Both packages will be met by German guards and shown the hospitality of Gestapo headquarters where they will be thoroughly interrogated." The faces before him were horror-stricken. "In the cooler!" he quickly added. "Newkirk and Carter will meet them dressed as German guards and escort them blindfolded to the cooler where Major Overmier will conduct the interrogation and all going well, where he will be given the information by our very proud double agent!"
"Major who?" Le Beau asked having trouble following it all.
Hogan took the spoon from Le Beau then slammed it on the table before his men, shouting in a German accent. "Never question the orders of Major Overmier! Heil Hitler!"
Newkirk turned to a frightened-looking Carter and stated, "Translation: We're going to get shot!"
...000…
Down in the tunnel, Hogan, dressed in a Gestapo officer's uniform, awaited Newkirk and Carter's return.
Kinch descended the tunnel steps to join him. "You think this will work?" he asked
"As long as we keep Schultz fed, I'm sure he'll keep well away from the cooler." Hogan confirmed. He tightened his belt another notch on his uniform. "Just make sure you tell Le Beau to prepare enough. If I keep going like this I'm going to have to ask Klink for a new uniform."
"We have a problem, sir," a flustered Newkirk yelled as he quickly made his way from the tunnel entrance to his Colonel; "one of the packages is wounded."
"You shot them?" Hogan asked horrified.
"No sir," Newkirk and a panting Carter cried in unison.
"Kinch, get Doc fitted out in Gestapo uniform. Set him up in solitary confinement. In the meantime, Newkirk, you and Carter bring him to the second cell. Let's get this interrogation over and done with!"
"But, Colonel…" Carter began, but Newkirk cut him off. "Yes, sir!"
Carter stared at Newkirk confused. "Why didn't you tell him about…"
Newkirk put his arm around Carter's shoulders and whispered, "Carter, ol' boy, there are some things that our beloved Major Overmier does not need to be told."
...000…
Jeanine Bruyere leaned against the cold stonewall of her cell and hastily removed the belt around her waist. She then gradually lowered herself to a seated position so her back was flush against the wall for support and she could stretch out her legs. Blood rapidly pooled beneath her right leg. With her belt in her lap, Jeanine reached across and ripped the already torn and bloodied trouser leg, exposing the bullet wound just below her knee.
Captain Alan Stratford ceased his examination of the cell and watched her. "You do know you'd be better off letting it bleed."
Jeanine deftly tied the belt around her thigh and pulled at the knot, but each time she tightened it, her hands would slip off the belt; the blood covering them now thwarting the grip she needed to make it into a workable tourniquet.
Watching her third failed attempt, Stratford cursed and squatted beside her. With his small knife he sliced the partially ripped trouser leg completely off exposing the bloodied wound. He then roughly dabbed at the blood, enough to get a good look at the wound itself. Jeanine gasped each time he touched her. "There's no bullet. Just a nasty gash," he informed her. Suddenly Jeanine was horrified as Stratford proceeded to bandage her leg in the same material he used to clean the wound. "I don't suppose using the shirt off your back would be a viable option, would it?" Jeanine asked sardonically. Stratford glared at her then continued the bandaging. He then grabbed the bloodied belt from her hands and pulled at the knot. Jeanine stifled a cry. "Don't take this out on me! I didn't shoot myself, you know," Jeanine defended herself.
"You won't survive this." He admonished, replacing the knife in his jacket pocket. "It would have been more humane for you to have died of a bullet wound. You won't survive a Gestapo interrogation."
"Right, and I suppose you will? Don't try to hide your animosity Captain, it's all over you like a rash!"
Stratford stared at her. She was right. He didn't agree with this new direction that London was taking with agents. "You have no idea how much."
"Sure you didn't shoot me?" Jeanine taunted.
"Me?" he smirked, then leaning closer to her whispered, "You wouldn't be sitting here if I did."
Jeanine shivered. She watched him make his way back across the cell, discarding his jacket on the floor as a makeshift pillow.
"Are your papers in your jacket?" he asked her, making himself comfortable on the floor.
"Just like yours," Jeanine answered cautiously.
She watched him, mentally recalling the rendezvous. She heard gunfire – directly in front of her, but it was so dark she couldn't see anything.
"Whoever goes in with the Gestapo leaves their jacket here. We can't afford for the papers to fall into their hands." Stratford ordered. "I have yet to see what is so important that you had to come along. This mission could have been completed by one agent."
"I'll put it on the agenda for when we're next in London," she replied cynically.
"London had no business sending a woman on this mission. Do you have any idea what Gestapo do to women? Women that are being interrogated by Gestapo are not sent to Prisoner of War camps. They are tortured and humiliated in ways you cannot imagine. By the time the interrogation is over your mind will not be your own. The only thought you will carry in what is left of coherency in your mind will be a prayer that when you sleep you do not awake!"
"You know, Captain, you're beginning to remind me of an old suitor of mine. Oh, but don't flatter yourself. He loved to point out every flaw that he saw, daily. And just like you, he eventually became tiresome." Jeanine leaned her head back against the cell wall. "When the guards come in to check on us next, I'm going to ask for my own room!"
"You have no concept of how serious this is do you? If you hadn't gotten yourself shot we may still have made our contacts."
Stratford's voice had that droning effect; the same as the one her university professor had; the same one that succeeded in putting her to sleep all the time. She smiled to herself. She failed that subject.
Jeanine wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the sudden chill in the cell. It was acting like a comforter, enveloping her. She surmised that if she succumbed to a little sleep she could effectively ignore Stratford. "Pardon me if I don't react to your abject paranoia but I pride myself on being an optimist!" Jeanine stated through half shut eyes.
"Poor misguided fool. Like I said, London had no business sending a woman on this mission." Stratford reiterated.
She deliberately allowed her eyelids to fall. "I agree. They should have sent two!"
"Schnell! Schnell!" They were everywhere. The uniformed German guards rounded up the villagers and lined them up in front of her home. Trembling she stood in the line up with her mother and grandmother. Even though they both held her hands tightly, she could not stop the trembling. "Ne montrez pas la crainte, mon amour. Ne montrez pas la crainte." Do not show fear. It was so hard. She could not control her trembling. Her grandmother squeezed her hand. "Schnell!" There were so many people standing before these Germans. Even more screaming. They searched the houses, finding young men hidden. She watched as one of her neighbours, Pierre, was dragged out at gunpoint. "Pour la liberté et la France" she heard Pierre shout as they dragged him past the villagers – for liberty and France. In anger, the guard levelled the gun at Pierre's head and shot. She let out an anguished cry. The guard before her heard it and grabbed her. Her grandmother and mother cried out, each trying to shield her. He raised his pistol and shot her mother in the head, then shot her grandmother in the head, all the while holding onto her wrist. She screamed, collapsing beside her family but the guard dragged her into her home behind where they were forced to line up. She screamed louder. Still holding on to her he began ripping her clothes. Terror consumed her senses and her screams now bordered on madness. A force struck her face and she knew no more.
An anguished cry filled the cell. The cell door crashed open and two German guards entered. One covered Stratford with his rifle. The other loomed over Jeanine. She stifled another cry. "Wachen Sie auf!"
"The general idea is to accompany him," Stratford volunteered.
Jeanine tried to rise but couldn't.
Stratford rose to go to her but the other guard raised his rifle at him and shouted "Halt!"
Jeanine was shocked when the guard looming over her bent down to pick her up. Instantly she rolled to her side and pushed herself up, avoiding all contact. As she followed the guard out of the cell she said to a scowling Stratford, "that means 'stop'."
From the corner of her eye she was positive she caught a smile on the face of one of the German guards, but when she turned to look at him, his face was stoic.
...000…
Jeanine was led to another cell, similar to the one she was in except for a chair in the centre of the room and a Gestapo officer staring at her in shock.
The officer composed himself immediately. "Bitte, Fräulein." he said, motioning to the chair.
She limped to the chair and sat down. The wound was throbbing but she was fortunate that the makeshift bandage was stopping some of the continuous blood flow.
Colonel Hogan was momentarily taken aback. He approached Newkirk and Carter standing at the door and whispered to them, "Let me know as soon as Doc is set up." They nodded.
"Fräulein. How did you get shot?" he asked in his best German accent.
"Ask your men!" Jeanine answered
Newkirk and Carter exchanged confused looks.
"My guards brought you here because you were found loitering in the woods at night. Now, I shall inform you of two facts. Fact one is we, the Gestapo, are not inhumane. We will arrange for your wound to be treated once you give us the information we need. Fact two – your cooperation is essential to guarantee your release."
Jeanine remained silent.
"Should you not wish to cooperate with us, we can easily go through the basic Gestapo interrogation techniques. It would only take a maximum of three interrogations. Usually by the fourth we find that things become quite intimate."
He saw her cringe. It was unmistakable.
"If, however, you cooperate, you will be released unharmed. Now, what were you doing in the woods tonight with that man in your cell?"
Jeanine forced a smile. "It was a rendezvous."
Hogan broke out in a cold sweat. It couldn't be her! She couldn't possibly be the double agent!
"The cover of the trees; the moon to guide us. Perfect. To any man, nights like tonight makes us all look like Venus. It is good for business."
Hogan was speechless. Jeanine continued unperturbed. "My liaisons do not want to come to the village or be seen; what with the war and all. However, your guards could have waited until the business transaction was finalised. As it stands I have provided a service and I have not been paid. And, to add insult to injury, I have been shot, which will keep me out of action for at least a week!"
"At least," Hogan squeaked, then quickly regained his composure. "How do I know that you are telling me the truth, Fraulein?"
"My services are exclusive, Major. However, for the Gestapo, I am certain we can reach an understanding."
"You play a dangerous game, Fraulein."
"My liaisons play the dangerous game, Major. Especially when their wives find out." She was positive she could pull this off. She felt her heart beat faster. It was not panic that she felt. It was pure adrenaline. Two could play at this game! "Major. I am no threat to you or anyone else. This is what I do to eat. It is war. I survive as best I can. You cannot possibly imprison me for what I do. After all, ours is the oldest profession in the world!"
"Who is the man in your cell? Your liaison?" Hogan asked.
"I do not know. Sometimes I ask questions. Sometimes I do not. Tonight, I did not."
"How many romantic liaisons do you hold in the woods on a night?"
"I would not call them romantic, Major. As for how many? It depends on how hungry I am."
Newkirk opened the interrogation room door, peered out then closed it and discreetly coughed. Hogan understood the signal. Doc was ready.
"Fräulein, I do not believe you. What I do believe is that you are connected to the man in the cell and that you are both spies. You have been caught in the woods late at night. That confirms to me you are spies. This interrogation is not ended. You will be questioned again in an hour and every hour after that until we have your confession." He turned to Newkirk. "Take her to solitary confinement."
Jeanine blanched. She thought she had gotten away with it. It was so plausible that she believed it herself.
Newkirk opened the door for her. As she was being led out, Hogan called out. "All you have to do is confess, Fräulein. We can take care of you. We will make sure that you never go hungry. You do not want us to believe that you harbour a death wish, do you?"
She hissed, "Only yours."
Hogan heard her and smiled.
...000…
1 Vichyssoise – French. Potato Soup served cold.