Copyright of the Hogan's Heroes characters
belongs to others and no infringement or
ownership is intended.
Marty Breedlove
Chapter 3
The Morning Unfolds
Christmas morning. Not like the Christmas mornings he remembered as a child. The war had seen to that. Who would have thought Germany would be back in a war so soon after the "Great War"? He snorted shaking his head. Heck, who would have thought I would be a member of an Underground movement?.
Pulling his coat tighter against the cold morning air, Ehan stepped out into the street and looked at the black smoke still lingering heavily over the town. The munitions factory had been blown up.
The early morning explosions rattled his windows and the orange glow had pervaded the interior of his home. But going outside to look before daylight was too dangerous. So he waited until morning. Not that it was much safer in the light of day. In fact, in today's Germany, showing one's face at the wrong time could in and of itself make you suspect. But he wanted…no…needed to see that the factory was destroyed. If only for the tangible pleasure of seeing another strike at stopping the madman that had ripped Germany apart from within. Brother against brother…father against son; that was the reality of the "New Order".
He looked through the morbidly quiet neighborhood. Normally, this time of year would bring everyone outside with their Christmas greetings and shared Christmas morsels, but not now. And especially not after last night. Now, in the light of day, his neighbors stayed inside behind closed doors and blackened windows, shivering with fear.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked around the house to the woodpile and loaded his arms with kindling before going back inside to his family.
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Closer to the bombed out munitions plant, another family's day had just begun.
"Raus"! The voice splintered the air, just after the heavy boot splintered the door!
Hearing the shouted order, Morgan froze.
Gestapo! His mouth went dry as the gruff voices drifted toward him.
Already his family was being herded out the front of the house. Did the Gestapo know he was a member of the Underground? And…more importantly…did they know his parents were not? And what of his obligations to the Underground unit with whom he fought? Someone had to warn them about the Gestapo. He turned toward the hallway leading to the front of the house and hesitated a moment before looking at the back door. He was not foolish enough to think he could withstand a Gestapo interrogation. They would learn about his Underground activities and wrongly assume his parents knew of them, or were Underground agents themselves.
In what seemed like an eternity, but was only seconds, he swallowed his nausea and made his gut-wrenching choice. Turning his back on all that he loved he prayed it was the right choice. Jumping from the back porch he hit the ground running, hoping there were no Gestapo agents waiting behind the house for just such a foolish attempt. He stumbled, almost toppling onto his nose, in his headlong rush to escape. His chest heaved rapidly in panicked breaths. Keep moving! A voice inside his head ordered. Rounding the corner of the house next door he paused. No gunshots sounded. There was only his heart pounding in his ears. Which way to go? He had to decide—and quickly!
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Swish, click, click, swish, click click…
Klink lifted the phonograph arm and swung the needle back. With the melody still dancing in his head, he lifted the well worn record, and gently blew the needle dust away before slipping the disc into its paper jacket.
Breathing in a deep satisfying breath, he recalled past Christmases with his family. His love of music stemmed from his mother and his uncles…her brothers. Oh what fun they would have after Christmas dinner, his mother at the piano his uncles with their violins, laughing and playing.
Wilhelm Klink closed the lid on his violin case and lifting up his glass, offered a toast to the memory.
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Only a short distance to go to reach safety, he held tight and turned to run.
Ugh!
Hit from behind, he stumbled as his legs folded at the knees and the ground rushed up to meet him. Twisting he took the impact on his left shoulder, and rolled onto his back in time to see more pursuers coming down on top of him.
Tweeeet!
"Okay, okay…everybody up. Second down and two minutes to play."
Daylight reappeared as the mound of men dispersed. Hogan, still on his back, tossed the ball at the ref and accepted the offered hand from his opponent. "We're going to stop you," Kinch warned.
"It ain't over yet," Hogan mumbled, and grasping Kinch's hand, pulled himself to his feet and went to join his team's huddle.
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Marie, also known as Tiger to the local underground unit, was just waking as daylight started to shine through her window. She had barely opened her eyes when she heard talking coming from the room beyond. Grabbing her robe, she opened her door and stepped out.
"What is it?"
Gustoff turned at the question. "Marie? I was about to wake you!"
Marie finished tying her robe and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It was then she saw him.
"Morgan!"
The words "Merry Christmas" were just forming on her lips when the young man's pallor told her something was wrong. Stepping past Gustoff she grabbed Morgan's arm.
"What's happened?"
Gustoff looked at her. "Did you hear the explosions last night?"
"Yes," a small smile hinted at the corner of her lips. She knew it was the munitions plant and she knew who was responsible. After all it was her Underground unit that passed the information on that the factory wouldn't be running last night. And then it hit…and she could barely get the words out.
"Did something happen to…" She bit her lip and looked at Morgan. "Did they get caught?" She couldn't ask her real question…Is he dead?
Morgan shook his head. "I don't know…maybe…I only know the Gestapo is rounding up people." Morgan trembled, "Tiger, they took my parents." Tiger's eyes filled with tears of uncertainty as she pulled the boy into her arms to comfort him. "Shh, Morgan, there isn't time for this now. We must go."
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Hochstetter studied the faces of the civilians as they were loaded into the back of the truck, trying to pick out his weaker candidates. Those are the ones he would interrogate first.
"Herr Major, what are your orders now?"
"Select a few more random houses and arrest their occupants. Then pick up some store owners. I want a broad sampling of the good people of Hammelburg. With any luck we will come across someone who knows, or has seen or heard something…anything." Hochstetter turned away. Placing his hands on his hips, he stared with cold calculating eyes at the empty streets of Hammelburg and sneered. There would be hours of interrogation ahead. But with any luck it would pay off and put an end to the Underground agent known as Papa Bear. And if his hunch was right…a certain American Colonel.
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"Gustoff, you must come with us! You can't stay here. If they find out you have been sheltering me…"
Tiger finished tucking her shirt tail in and cinched her coat around her.
"It will look more suspicious if I run. If they don't find out you have been here, they will only question me and let me go, and all can be as it was. But if I run with you now, they will know I am sympathetic to the Underground and I will be of no further use to you. No, it is better that I stay."
Tiger grabbed Morgan's hand and tugged him toward the door as she looked back at Gustoff. "Be careful," she whispered.
Gustoff nodded as she slipped out the door. He admired the young Parisian. She reminded him of his now departed wife, full of spirit. If he was forty years younger—he often joked with her. And it was a joke. Gustoff smiled at himself. Nobody could ever take the place of his Effie. If my wife were still alive, she would call me a crazy old man for taking such risks...while standing right there beside me and taking them with me.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted, as soldiers burst through the front door.
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