Chapter 3:

(Berlin Gestapo Headquarters: nighttime)

Major Lang and Major Scholz, the head interrogators of Berlin Headquarters, stood behind a wooden desk in Lang's office. Behind them hung a giant portrait of Adolf Hitler, a massive bookshelf filled with different types of books, and a midnight blue painted wall. Before them sat the man they had called for assistance: Colonel Klink of Stalag 13.

"Colonel Klink," Lang said, with a grin. "We are pleased to finally meet you. We've heard many things about your camp."

"Major Lang, it's a pleasure to be here. Any time I can help the Gestapo is a great honor for me and Stalag 13," Klink said, smiling back.

Lang and Scholz had neutral looks to their faces, making the Luftwaffe officer frown and gulp.

"You were saying?" He asked, with hesitance.

"Colonel, we are holding a United States Air Force corporal here for questioning by the name of Christopher Tyler. He is highly regarded by the Allies for his technician work on their aircraft. He will not tell us how the planes for the Allies work and could possibly be a big advancement for the Third Reich if the information is received." Lang continued.

"A big advancement?"

"Could even help us win the war," Scholz said.

"Which is why we called you. Your camp is the only one to not have a single escape from it. It is considered the toughest POW camp in Germany, and we wish to use you as a threat to make Corporal Tyler talk. We hope he will surrender under your presence," Lang added. "You just have to do one thing."

"What is it, Major. I will do anything as you say to," Klink said.

"Don't talk." Lang answered, a hidden plea in his voice.

Klink swallowed and nodded softly, shaking under the man's eyes.

"Yes, Sir, no speaking," he spoke quietly.

"Gut...follow me," Lang said, heading to the door.

Klink got from his leather chair and walked with Scholz as they followed the leading major out of his office and downstairs to the holding cells.


BAM! The dart went flying and right into a picture of Adolf Hitler in the left eyeball.

The prisoners of barracks two cheered and celebrated at Carter's perfect shot. The young sergeant himself felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins and the energy in the room.

"Boy! Look at that! I got him right in pupil!" Carter cried.

"You want a turn, little mate?" Newkirk asked, offering a dart to Kalina.

"Yeah, try to get him right in the mouth, kid," Kinch said.

The girl grinned and took the dart in her hand. She stood on the line of tape placed on the ground and focused on her target. Once she felt she had it, she took her arm back and flung the dart right at the door, landing right in Hitler's right nostril.

All the men cried out in delight, making Kalina blush a bit.

"Super lancer," LeBeau said.

"Alright, little mate, watch this. Uncle Newkirk here's gonna show you a trick to this," the Englishman said, bringing Kalina close to his left. Newkirk steady his aim, squinted his right eye, and moved his hand back and forth a few times before throwing it. The dart made a sharp strike in the middle of Hitler's mouth. In result, more cheering was made.

"Right in the kisser!" Carter exclaimed.

"My turn!" LeBeau remarked, full of energy and anticipation.

The little Frenchman took a dart from Newkirk's hand and got himself ready to fire, when Schultz entered the barracks and closed the door behind him. The sergeant made his way to Hogan, who was standing near the stove and smiling at his men and Kalina.

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz said. "What is going on…" He stopped mid sentence and dropped his jaw when he saw the dart board and the picture of Hitler that was taped over it. "Colonel Hogan, what are you doing?!"

"Playing darts, Schultz. You wanna play?" The American answered.

"Oh, Colonel Hogan, please not when General Burkhalter is here!"

"He's not going to come in here. He's too busy in Klink's office talking on the phone."

"No! I want this to stop at once!"

Hogan sighed sadly.

"Alright, Schultz," he said. The colonel turned to his men. "Alright, guys. Last person, and then were done."

All the enlisted men and Klink's daughter moaned and complained.

"We'll just have to use Himmler's picture instead." Hogan added.

The men and teenager resumed cheering.

"Oh, I see nothing. If anybody asks, I do not even know who you are!" Schultz wailed, with fear and hurried out of the barracks quickly.

Once the fluffy guard had left, Hogan, his men, and Kalina smiled at one another and got back to their festivities.


Corporal Christopher Tyler sat at a long metal table in a massive sized room. The only thing that resembled his cell was the metal bars that kept him locked up. Other than that, there was a circular light above him, another chair across from him, and the walls were painted a dark gray.

He continued sitting in anxiety, wondering what these men were going to do to him, when his biggest fear happened, and two Gestapo officers returned for him.

The leading officer, Major Lang, was very lean and tall. He had dark brown hair and dark blue eyes that were haunting. They gleamed in the light with malice and unknown horror hiding within them. He looked a little older than Tyler himself was. No more than 27 or 28 years of age.

The other major, Major Scholz, was a tad bit younger looking than Lang. He appeared to be about 24 or 25 years old. He had dark blonde hair, green eyes, and was just about the same height as Lang. He looked a bit more easy going than Lang did, but it was clear he had negative intentions towards the American flyer.

The young corporal swallowed a large knot in his throat. No, he thought. No more questions, please!

Lang unlocked the metal bar door and slid it to the other side. He entered with Scholz coming from behind, and both stopped at the front of the table with cold facial expressions.

"Corporal Tyler, I am Major Lang. This is my partner Major Scholz. I hope you are ready to cooperate with us now," he said, his voice eerie and dark.

"Please...I don't know any important information. Just let me go, I won't cause any harm, honest!" Tyler trembled, begging for mercy.

"The Allies consider you their best aircraft technician, Corporal. Why is that?" Lang asked.

The corporal gulped and shook his head.

"I don't know, Major Lang...I was very good in metal work back in high school, that could be why," he said, shaky.

"You worked on your planes' motors and equipment, did you not?" Lang persisted.

Tyler froze. If he answered 'yes', they would know he had knowledge in different parts of a plane's engine, alternator, and other motors. If he kept silent or said 'no', he would get more threats that were psychologically traumatizing and might even receive physical violence along with it.

"Corporal, did you work on your planes or not?" The leading major demanded.

"I...I...I repaired one alternator...that was all." Tyler lied, hoping Lang would buy it.

"What was wrong with that one alternator?"

"I...I don't remember...it stopped working for some reason...I'm telling you the truth, I swear!"

"We have ways of making you talk, Corporal...I do not advise many people to see what they are."

"Major Lang...I am telling you the truth. Everything I say is real."

"I'm sure it is...and I'm going to see just how real everything you're saying is."

"What...what do you mean?"

Lang gave a low laugh, then spoke to Scholz, his eyes never leaving their prisoner.

"Bernhard. Bring in Herr Oberst," the man ordered.

"Jawohl, Herr Major," Scholz said, and briefly left the room.

"Oberst? What does that mean?" Tyler asked.

"Oberst Klink. A colonel is your American word." Lang grinned viciously. "He runs the fiercest camp in Germany. The biggest guards. The meanest dogs. He's known for running Stalag 13 with an iron fist."

The corporal stared at the officer in horror, as Lang continued.

"The prisoners there are completely under his control. They are so demoralized that they never even think of trying to…"

The major stopped speaking when the door opened, and Scholz returned with Klink. The colonel strode in, his monocle glinted in the dim light. Tyler's color drained, his eyes widened, and he straightened in his chair in utter horror at Klink's evil smile.

"C, c, co, co co co, co, co…" The poor corporal's stuttering made Lang again laugh.

"My guest brings you intimidation, no?" The major asked, his malice smile growing.

Tyler made a loud gulp and started to shiver in his seat.

Lang snapped his fingers and signaled for Klink to come closer. The colonel followed orders and was soon on Lang's side with as menacing of a look as possible.

"You know who this man is?" Lang questioned.

"N...n, n n, no, Major...wh...wh, who is he?" Tyler asked.

"This is Colonel Klink of Stalag 13. He has never had a single escape from his camp."

"None?"

"None. He is known for running the toughest POW camp in all of Germany...I would hate to send you there."

"Major," Tyler said, getting on his shaky feet. "I know nothing. I'm not telling a lie, and I don't have any valuable information for the Germans! Don't send me there, please don't send me there!" He pleaded.

"Sit down, or I will send you to your grave!" Lang ordered.

The corporal slowly made his way back into the chair and started to shake even more.

Although his face remained intimidating and fierce, Klink could not help but feel sorry for the man. He saw a young boy, no more than 20, who should have been back home studying in college. To get a degree and have fun like a normal college kid. It made him think of Kalina and broke his heart. He could not stand to see his little girl in this man's situation instead. He wanted to help Tyler, but he did not know how.

"Corporal, I'm going to ask you one last time. Next time I will force it out of you. What was wrong with that alternator?" Lang demanded.

"I don't remember...I don't remember! I think one of the fans were broken and was making the engine overheat!" Tyler sobbed.

The leading major let out a heavy breath of frustration.

"Scholz, take this man back to his cell...I'm finished with him," he finally said.

"Jawohl, Herr Major," Scholz said. He made his way towards Tyler, grabbed him roughly from the back, and dragged him out of the interrogation room.

Lang sighed and turned to Klink.

"I apologize, Herr Colonel. He will be more tough to crack then expected," the major said.

"Major...suppose what he says is true...what will happen then?" Klink asked.

"Then he's useless to us. If he really knows nothing other than that, he will be shot in front of a firing squad for his crimes against the Third Reich."

The colonel swallowed and nodded. Now Lang was frightening him.

"Jawohl, Herr Major," he said, faint.

"Colonel Klink, you may leave for the night. We will try again tomorrow. As for now, I need to go do paperwork and...try to calm down," Lang said, the last part under his breath.

Soon Klink was all alone and sighed with both relief and sadness. He could not bear to see Tyler suffer anymore mental trauma. He had to get him out of here. But if he did, his life would become in danger. He would be a traitor to his country, and Kalina would lose her father.

The Luftwaffe officer frowned, realizing he could do nothing at that very moment. Tyler would just have to stay put until he thought of an idea.

Klink slowly walked up the stairs, out of Gestapo Headquarters, and into the car to drive back to his hotel.