Note: This fic contains graphic references to the Holocaust. I don't wish to offend, just to represent what would have perhaps gone through the minds of the people who first witnessed this tragedy. It dies have a very dark, very bleak theme, but I think that seeing this kind of thing for the first time would likely have that effect on a person.
Also this is my first attempt at writing in second person, so let me know how it sounds! Oh and as for whether or not Stalag 13 was ever even close to Dachau, please accept this as something like poetic license. There are too many different theories of where Stalag 13 was located, so for the purpose of this fic I will place it near Dachau. Please don't hate me for historical inaccuracy on this point.
I do not own Hogan's Heroes or the characters, and I don't own the song either. All rights to their respective owners.
The words in italics are the song lyrics. Song is O' Children by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds. I don't know about you guys, but I find that listening to the song while reading it enhances the experience. Or at least, I know that I listened to the song on repeat for two hours when I wrote it. There are plenty of videos on youtube if you don't have it. And I believe that covers just about it! At least I hope so, this note is almost as long as the fic now. As always, please read & review!
Finally it is over. Six years of fighting, of hatred, and of fear. Years and years spent away from home living among the enemy, secluded from family and loved ones. Now you are going home, and what do you make of that? Along the way you have met friends, brothers that will stay with you for the rest of your life. At least in your heart. Soon you will have to separate. But first, one last mission. The war might be over, but there is still evil to fight. Before you go home, you must go to a place called Dachau. You don't know what it is, but Colonel says that they have orders to assist their liberators in any way, and that is good enough for you. Until you get there. Then you see that it may be called Dachau by some, but the people living within it know it to be something else than just a simple camp.
Pass me that lovely little gun
My dear, my darling one
The cleaners are coming, one by one
You don't even want to let them start
Broken faces stare at you with empty eyes. You expect to see hope, happiness, rejoice. But it seems that these people only know one emotion: desperation. And as you look around you and see nothing but hell itself, how could you possibly blame them? They are skin over bones, nothing more. Infected with disease, slowly dying from starvation and exhaustion, these people can hardly bring themselves to care about the people who thought they would be hailed as heroes.
They are knocking now upon your door
They measure the room, they know the score
They're mopping up the butcher's floor
Of your broken little heart
You want to help them, but find little that you can do. You can't erase what has happened and how else could you possibly make this better? The survivors are moved, they will be taken away and perhaps they will heal. The camp is thoroughly inspected, turned upside down. You watch the photographer, you see Andrew offering to help but running in horror when he sees the things that they must immortalize in film. You hear Hogan directing, commanding in a tone that doesn't hide his revulsion and rage. You smell things that weren't meant to be, and it comes from a man that Louis is comforting, a man covered in filth that no soul should ever live in. You feel Kinch's hand on your shoulder, and you know that he shares your grief and your inability to make sense of this travesty. But most of all you taste in your mouth the bitter sting of guilt. The guilt of standing here whole and well, while these people barely survive any given moment.
O children
Forgive us now for what we've done
It started out as a bit of fun
Here, take these before we run away
The keys to the gulag
In the Stalag, there had only been men. And that was as it should be. War was fought by men, and that was how it had always been. Women were not given guns, and children did not drop bombs. In a war that corrupted so many good men, women and children would remain innocent. That was one of the reasons that you and others fought this war. So why do the faces you see surrounding you belong to weeping women who cry out for loved ones, and children who have aged before their time? For them, innocence is a thing long past. You think back to times before this, and can't help but wonder. So many people here could have been saved, if you had arrived even days sooner. All those times you laughed, all those times you dallied over the smallest of things, could they have changed the lives of the men, women and children you see before you? And suddenly you find you cannot look at them. All you want is to turn away, to run from the accusations unspoken behind blank eyes.
O children
Lift up your voice, lift up your voice
Children
Rejoice, rejoice
You want to beg them, get on your knees and beg them to look out of their eyes and see. These children have had their lives scarred by this. Whatever happens now, they will not forget. While you cannot change that, all you want is for them to see hope. Here, in the depth of their horror, it may not seem possible to them. But you want them to see their salvation. Not for your own glory, not your own satisfaction at seeing them freed. You want these children to rise above this, to see the horrors for what they are and to make this world better tomorrow. When you look at their faces, you see glimpses of what you have seen on the face of your own father. You have seen the effects of the first war's depravity on him, and you know what human savagery can do to a person. He turned to violence and the bottle to find his salvation. These children, so young and all too innocent of why this was happening to them, deserve better than that. They deserve so much more than this.
Here comes Frank and poor old Jim
They're gathering round with all my friends
We're older now, the light is dim
And you are only just beginning
Each man that passes you has a story, has or had a family. So many of them are lost and separated from loved ones that may or not have survived. You wonder how it is they made it through this place. You have been imprisoned as well, but you always knew that someday you would return to find your family waiting for you. It kept you going. As you watch the men gather round the soldiers waiting to take them away, you feel a deep shame. You had thought you were strong for surviving the war, and making the best of the prison camp. But when you look at these people who have been subjected to all the awfulness the human mind can think of, you know that you would not have this strength.
O children
We have the answer to all your fears
It's short, it's simple, it's crystal clear
It's round about, it's somewhere here
Lost amongst our winnings
The common theme around the camp is fear. Most of the prisoners cannot speak English, they don't know where they are being taken or what is going to happen to them. Even some of the soldiers radiate fear when their eyes fall upon one of the many corpses littering the ground, or the barely breathing bodies that reek of disease. You feel these fears yourself, though you try not show it. When you see a frightened child pass, you want to reach out and offer comfort, but you don't have the answers they need. No one does. The Allies have won the war, the prisoners are being liberated. But what then? These people have nothing left to them. Where would they go?
The cleaners have done their job on you
They're hip to it, man, they're in the groove
They've hosed you down, you're good as new
And they're lining up to inspect you
The prisoners are being prepared to move out. You have helped them any way you can, making clothes, passing out food, even assisting the medic for awhile. You saw the others moving among the masses as well, lending a hand here and there. The sick have received medicine, the hurt bandaged, the starving fed, and the dead buried. Now they formed a line, names being recorded and inquiries made for other family members. Those not involved in this process, such as yourself, stand by to watch the line move. Suddenly you feel someone lean into you, and you glance to your side to see Andrew with tears falling down his face. Holding back tears of your own, you put an arm around his shoulders. He chokes out a sob, and the one-armed embrace becomes a desperate hug, with Andrew clinging to you for support. Soon you are joined by Louis, and then Kinch envelops all three of you in a huge bear hug. Even the Colonel comes over and wraps an arm around his men. You look over Andrew's shoulder, watching the newly clothed and cleansed prisoners move away from this deathtrap camp. The soldiers had done the best they could to help these people. But would it really change anything?
O children
Poor old Jim's white as a ghost
He's found the answer that we lost
We're all weeping now, weeping because
There ain't nothing we can do to protect you
The last man through the line turns as he walks through the gate, and you could swear he looks right at you. You take in the expression on his face as he looks at this horror which he somehow survived. More than likely he had had friends and relatives who had not been so lucky, who now lay in graves outside these walls. Even though he now left with the liberation, he might have a lingering condition or injury that could kill him still. And yet there was something in his face. You realize it suddenly. He is looking out of his eyes, and he is seeing. His gaze alights on each and every soldier in the camp, all of whom by now are looking straight at him. He opens his mouth, and only the total quiet in the camp allows you to make out his quiet words. "Todah," he says. "Todah." You don't know what it means, but at that moment you realize that you see something else in his eyes. Hope.
O children
Lift up your voice, lift up your voice
Children
Rejoice, rejoice
Note: "Todah" means "Thank You" in Hebrew, as far as I can tell. I've tried to do as much research on it as I can, but please correct me if I'm wrong.