Chapter 4

March 27, 1945

Hogan and Klink were in the recreation hall after dinner for their nightly game of chess. As usual, the radio was on; it was now playing big band records. Klink had just made his seventh move of the game when a radio announcer interrupted the music saying, "This just came in."

Someone turned the radio up.

The announcer cleared his throat. "'To be or not to be . . . '"

Klink's eyes lifted from the chessboard.

"'For who would bear the whips and scorns of the oppressor. That is the question.'"(1)

Hogan didn't notice Klink's intentness. "Your move, Kommandant."

Klink didn't stir as Newkirk said, "That wasn't right," when the radio returned to music. "That's from Hamlet's big soliloquy in Scene III. But it's all messed up. Isn't it, Kommandant?" Newkirk said, turning to Klink.

Klink seemed to look through him.

"Kommandant?" Hogan said.

Klink made a visible effort to rouse himself. Unexpectedly, he stood and tipped his king over, conceding the game.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Hogan demanded, worry making his voice angry.

Klink stopped at the door and looked at him. "What you did for me," Klink said in a quiet voice, "I must do for someone else."

"Alone?" Hogan asked in a harsh voice.

Klink stayed silent.

Hogan took a deep breath. "Officially, you're still my prisoner. Where you go, I go."

Klink nodded soberly, but said, "Your war is over, Robert," using his name publicly for the first time. "Mine isn't. You'll be risking death for someone you don't know."

Hogan stood. "I'll take the risk."

Klink nearly smiled. "If you mean it, meet me at the motor pool in thirty minutes. Not one minute longer; I will not wait. But consider carefully; you may not come back."

Hogan nodded. "Wilhelm," also using his name publicly for the first time, "if you leave early, I promise I'll tear Germany apart looking for you."

This time, Klink did smile. "Agreed." A glance at his watch. "Thirty minutes. And we'll need to travel very light."

"Where are we going?" Hogan managed to ask as the door was closing.

The answer drifted back to him. "Leipzig!"

Hogan's men looked at each other and stood.

"Colonel, we'd like to go with you," Kinch said.

Hogan looked at them in turn; each man nodded. "You heard him; you might not come back."

Kinch shrugged with seeming nonchalance. "We always wanted to go on a real job with him, sir. This is our last shot at it."

The others nodded agreement.

Hogan smiled faintly. "Let's go."

...

There was chaos in Barracks 2 as Hogan and his men got ready. Witton, the other three captains and the barracks occupants stayed out of the way. The uniforms were discarded, and black sweaters and pants were donned. Small firearms and ammunition were brought up from the tunnels. And a few other things.

"Carter!" Hogan looked pointedly at the over-sized pack in the young sergeant's hand. "He said we're to travel light."

"This is light, Colonel," Carter said earnestly. "I've only got a few sticks of dynamite, some nitro, some caps, some . . ." He trailed off as Hogan shook his head.

"I told you, Andrew," Newkirk said.

"But, Colonel," Carter started.

"Unless it fits in your pockets, it stays," Hogan said firmly.

Carter managed a dejected, "Yes, sir."

Hogan turned to Witton. "The camp's all yours, Captain." He held out his hand.

Witton shook his hand. "I expect to give it back to you in a few days, Colonel."

Hogan smiled faintly. "I expect the same thing." He looked at his men. "Ready?"

They nodded, serious expressions on their faces.

Hogan, his men and the others in the barracks went out into the compound. The pale sun was low on the western horizon; reddish streaks stained the clouds and the darkening sky. Soon, they would fade.

Hogan looked around. Many of the men in the camp, including some of the former guards, had gathered into quiet groups. Word had obviously gotten around as to what was going to happen.

Klink, dressed in black, was waiting outside the motor pool. A worried-looking Schultz was standing next to him.

Klink's eyes swept Hogan's men, not surprised at seeing them "You can still change your mind," he said.

Hogan shook his head.

Klink smiled faintly. "I will take the motorcycle; follow me in the two jeeps. It will take roughly an hour to get to the field. Schultz," he turned to his waiting sergeant, "you know where we are going. Keep monitoring the emergency channel. Do not expect to hear anything for at least eighty-four hours. But if there is nothing after that," his eyes met Schultz's, "it is likely that there will not be any good news."

"Jawohl, Herr Kom . . . Mein Herr."

Klink smiled briefly and went to the waiting motorcycle. He took a black jacket from the seat and slipped it on. Then he settled a helmet over his head. He waited as Hogan and his men went over to the two jeeps. Hogan, Kinch and Carter sat in one; Baker, Newkirk and LeBeau took the other. The three engines started. With Klink leading the way, they left the camp.

"Where is the Kommandant going?" a voice asked Captain Mitchell.

"To rescue one of his men," Mitchell said, his eyes on the departing vehicles.

"But . . . but we are his men."

Mitchell swung around and found himself staring at young Private Gustav Hirschfeld. The 16-year-old boy was looking at him with bewilderment and concern. Around him were several other Germans, also looking confused. And Mitchell didn't know what to say.

But Fritz Gruber did. "Ja, we are his men," the Luftwaffe captain said evenly. "And he has watched over us and protected us. But he has men outside the camp too. And he will do what he can to protect them as well."

"Schultz is worried," Corporal Oskar Kaufmann said quietly.

"He's not the only one," Witton said as he walked by.

...

Hogan had thought he'd known the area around the camp and Hammelburg well. But as he followed Klink, he realized that there were still parts that he didn't know. Of course, his excuse was that there had never been any wartime plants in the area they were traveling. Now, they were on virtually nonexistent one-lane roads, all but invisible under the tall unfriendly trees. Their dim headlights were swallowed up by the gloom. The just rising nearly full moon was intermittently glimpsed through the trees and clouds, but it provided no helpful light. After a while, Hogan realized they were slowly climbing and that the track had disappeared.

Klink's cycle stopped, though the engine was still running; the two jeeps stopped behind it.

Hogan looked around; it seemed to be a dead end. Until Klink went over to a densely covered area and reached behind the bushes. A gate silently swung out. Klink got back on the cycle and went through the gate into a seeming pit of darkness. The two jeeps followed. Klink waited beside the gate until the jeeps went through; he then closed the gate behind them.

Just a few yards down the surprisingly level field were two ramshackle barns, one on each side of the field.

Klink pointed to the one on the eastern side. "Stop over there."

Now parked beside the old barn, Klink walked over to a clump of bushes. He searched under one of them and pulled something, a key, from the ground. He walked back to the door and unlocked the sturdy padlock on the door. The door swung open. Standing inside the barn was an airplane, barely large enough for all of them.

"So that's how you managed to show up all over Germany," Hogan said. He walked closer to it and whistled softly. "It's a Junkers W34, isn't it?"

Klink looked at him in surprise. "Yes."

Hogan nodded. "I saw one once after a Junker broke the world altitude record in 1929."

Klink smiled unseen; how many Americans would even know that? "I'll take her out. Then bring the jeeps and the motorcycle inside and close the door. Don't bother with the lock; nobody comes here now."

Klink climbed into the plane and started it. A powerful engine roared into life. Slowly, the plane moved. As soon as it cleared the barn, Hogan's men parked the vehicles inside and closed the door. Hogan looked around. He couldn't see the end of the field; it disappeared into darkness.

Klink had moved the plane to the southern end of the field in front of the gate; he waited for the men to join him.

Hogan's men climbed inside the small plane; there was just enough room for them behind the two front seats.

"Chummy in here," Newkirk murmured.

Hogan smiled as he settled into the seat next to Klink. He peered into the darkness. Now that all the lights were off, he could barely see anything. The moon was still very low, only just touching the trees that encircled the field. No, he amended silently, the northern end didn't have any trees. None. Not even a bush. And despite himself, Hogan felt a twinge of panic. Then he realized why there weren't any trees there. And from the sudden silence behind him, his men had figured it out as well.

Carter's voice came timidly over Hogan's shoulder. "That . . . that's a cliff, isn't it, sir."

Klink didn't reply. Instead, he throttled the plane to full power; it felt as if they were sitting in the engine.

Hogan glanced at Klink's profile, hoping he knew what he was doing. Then he was embarrassed by the thought. Still doubting Klink? No, just nerves, and the realization that he wished he was the one at the controls.

"Sure you know how to fly this thing?" Hogan quipped.

Klink smiled. "We are about to find out."

The plane started to move. Fast. Hogan found himself gripping the seat, saying a small prayer.

All too quickly, the field ended, and the small plane shot into a dark well. For a terrifying, mercifully brief moment, the plane sank before Klink was able to right it. Audible signs of relief sounded from the others as the plane continued skyward.

"We will be in Leipzig in a couple of hours," Klink said. "Edmondson was able to get me the targets for the various Air Force groups so we can avoid bombers. But keep your eyes open for any planes, Allied or otherwise, that might be flying."

Hogan nodded. "Can you tell us anything about the mission?"

Klink shook his head. "I know little beyond what I told you. One of the Six, Hamlet, was taken, which is what the radio message meant. I sent a message saying I was on my way. But I was more concerned about getting to Leipzig, hence the call to Edmondson."

"Excuse me for asking, sir," Kinch said. "But how do you know he's still alive?"

Klink was silent for a moment. "The message was for a live capture. Do I know if he is still alive, the answer is no. But," a swift glance at Hogan, "did you know if I was alive when you came after me? I have known Hamlet for many years. If I had not specifically ordered otherwise, he would have torn the camp and the area apart looking for me when I was taken by Hochstetter. He may well be dead, but . . . "

"But you need to know," Hogan said softly.

"Yes."

For the most part, there was silence as the plane continued on its way through the night. Hogan had found a map between the front seats; he began tracking the flight on it with a flashlight. Klink, seeing his interest, gave him readings every few minutes.

The nearly full moon shone occasionally through the clouds and cast some light on the landscape passing under them. Under other circumstances, the flight would have been enjoyable, Hogan thought with a small smile. At least for him; the guys behind him were jammed in pretty tightly.

Hogan glanced back at his men. "Everything okay back there?"

"Fine, sir," Baker answered.

Newkirk's response was inaudible.

...

Hogan estimated they were about half an hour away when Klink broke his long silence. "A few points . . . After we land, you forget who I am. My name is Stage, nothing else. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sirs," sounded from the back.

"While they will know you are Allied soldiers, say nothing about where you come from. And speak only in German, even to each other."

"You're the boss, Stage," Hogan said in German.

A faint smile from Klink. Then he added in an unusually sober voice, "I must warn you. You will meet two of the Six — Cleopatra and Richard. They will be very different from the Resistance people you have met in the past. Their people cover large sections of Germany and they are both very disciplined and, if need be, ruthless, especially Richard. Some of Hamlet's men will also be there; they are SS." Hogan looked at him sharply. "Real SS, not men pretending to be. They are of necessity tough, mentally and physically, and in many respects, single-minded in following orders from Hamlet and by extension the Stage and his lieutenants. They have had to follow a harsh path to accomplish what we demanded of them. You will find them humorless, hard, unsociable and dangerous. Please do not antagonize them. And unless they approach you, stay away from them. For your sakes."

...

It was 2132 when the small plane landed on cleared firm ground surrounded by woods and fields not far from Leipzig. Klink parked the plane beside a large barn. Once they were out of the plane, they draped several camouflage nets over it. Stealthily and alertly, they crept through a grove of trees toward a great manor house surrounded by extensive gardens.

Klink stopped beside one of the picturesque gazebos dotting the back gardens. He ran his fingers over the intricate carvings on the base of the structure. He pressed and a panel in the side slid open. Before climbing in, he pulled on a thin black ski mask. The others followed him inside. They went down a metal ladder into a deep dark well. At the bottom was a dank passage, irregularly lit with flickering candle lanterns. Several hundred feet down the passage, they stopped. The Stage's fingers probed near the top of the wall and pressed; the wall swung outward, opening yet another hidden panel. And they found themselves in a cool stone room.

Hogan glanced quickly around the room. There was a wooden door opposite the hidden panel, a table with several chairs behind it, and a heavy metal door in the right wall. A large wooden cabinet stood beside that door. Against the left wall was a laden buffet table; a smaller table held plates, napkins and cutlery.

A hush fell among the people present as the six men, led by the Stage, walked further into the room.

An attractive woman in her late forties with up-swept silver hair hurried over to them. "Stage!" she whispered.

He held her hands for a moment. "Cleopatra."

"I was afraid you wouldn't come. And I was afraid you would," she admitted.

"I could not stay away," the Stage said. "I brought friends. This is Papa Bear and his men.

"You are welcome," Cleopatra said as Hogan nodded a greeting. "Come," she said to the Stage. "Your men can stay here."

"Papa Bear, with me," the Stage said as they headed toward the door in the opposite wall.

Hogan's men looked curiously at the assemblage of thirty or so men and women.

A thin blond man in his thirties with a pronounced limp approached them. "I am Ludwig. You are welcome."

"I am Kin . . ."

The man stopped him. "First names, bitte."

"Okay. I am James and this is Andrew, Louis, Richard and Peter."

"Richard," Ludwig repeated, looking at the tall black man. "We have several Richards here. Is there another name we may use? If you have no objections?"

Baker grinned. "Would you object to Baker?"

"Herr Baker." Ludwig's tongue tripped slightly over the name. "Nein, Baker is acceptable." And smiled. "Again, welcome. If you are hungry, bitte, help yourselves." Ludwig indicated the buffet table.

"Don't mind if we do," Newkirk said. He walked over, followed by the others.

...

Inside the small room, the Stage removed his mask. "Richard." The Stage went to the shorter heavyset man with dark, grim features standing beside the table.

A handshake. "I wish it could be under happier circumstances, Stage," Richard said.

"This is Papa Bear," the Stage introduced. "Are most of Hamlet's units gone?"

Cleopatra nodded. "Save for the local SS. But it is dangerous for you to be here, Stage."

"As I said, I could not stay away; he is my friend. He was taken early this morning?"

Richard nodded. "His capture was publicized almost immediately."

"How was he discovered?"

Richard's voice was bitter. "An accident. A ridiculous accident. We will tell you later. Right now, we must find a way to get to him. Before . . . "

"He dies," the Stage finished.

Hogan glanced at him. "Or breaks."

Cleopatra shook her head. "He will not break," she said in a pained voice. "He will not live long enough. They do not know it, but his heart is not strong. He will die first."

"Where is he being held?" the Stage asked.

"Here." Richard indicated the plans on the table. "Somewhere in here," he pointed. "Our people have not yet been able to give us the exact location."

"I assume they are expecting an attack," the Stage said, his eyes on the plans.

"Natürlich. Since they broadcast his arrest, they would be disappointed if one did not come."

"I do not plan on disappointing them," the Stage said.

"You have an idea?" Cleopatra asked.

The Stage nodded. "It is insane, but I think it will work." He explained it to them.

"No," Hogan said flatly.

"You do not have a vote," the Stage said in a mild voice.

"I agree with him," Cleopatra said, her eyes troubled. "It is mad."

"But," said Richard, mulling over the Stage's plan, "it would work."

"You are risking yourself," Cleopatra objected. "You know what they will do to you!"

"I see no other way to stop their torture of Hamlet," the Stage said. "They are expecting an attack; we give them one. One crazy enough for the Stage to carry out. It fails and they think they have won their prize. Then the real attacks begin, ones they will not expect. And they will succeed."

"At what cost?" Cleopatra demanded.

"Less than if we risk a full-scale attack. It will distract them, split their forces, and also end Hamlet's torture."

"And instead they start on you!" Hogan said.

"I do not intend to stay long," the Stage said more calmly than he felt. "Unless someone has a better idea . . . ?"

Silence answered him.

He straightened up and slipped on the mask. "Then we go."

...

In the stone room, LeBeau took a piece of sausage. His expression changed as he bit into it. "Not bad," he admitted.

The slightly stocky, taller man next to him laughed. "We Germans can make some foods well."

"Only some," the chauvinistic Frenchman said.

The man laughed again. "I am Wolfgang with Cleopatra's group."

"Louis with Papa Bear."

"You arrived with the Stage."

"Ja."

The door opened. The Stage, followed by Cleopatra, Richard, and Hogan, came into the room. The Stage, flanked by Cleopatra and Richard, sat behind the table in front of the door. Hogan went over to his men as the people in the room gathered closer to the table.

Cleopatra spoke. "The Stage has come up with a plan to rescue Hamlet from the SS. I warn you, it will sound insane."

There were nervous laughs from the others in the room; many of them knew just how crazy the Stage's ideas could be.

The Stage spoke. "I am known for wildly impossible plans. Most of you have been with me long enough to know that they are neither wild nor impossible. They just appear that way. But this is more than a little unusual. They are expecting an attack; we all know that. We will give them what they want."

Murmurs sounded in the crowd.

"But not the way they expect it. A full-scale attack would be disastrous; they will be ready for it. Therefore, I propose sending in one man. He will disrupt their security, wreck havoc in their headquarters and buy time.

"He will also be caught."

Shocked faces looked at the man in the mask.

"When he is, they will relax their guard, thinking they have gotten their prize. Then later, the real attack or rather attacks will start. And they will be successful."

"And who will it be?" a short, graying, fiftyish man with very thick glasses standing near Carter asked.

The masked head turned toward the speaker. "They are expecting the Stage. They will get the Stage."

"You mean someone dressed like you," a sharp-featured woman near the front said.

The Stage shook his head. "Nein, it will be me."

Astonished murmurs sounded in the room.

"I will not ask anyone else to do this. Nor will I ask for volunteers. It may be vain of me, but I believe I am mad enough to be able to pull it off. I also believe I can keep them occupied for some time before they catch me."

There were no smiles among the listeners.

"They will take whoever it is to Hamlet. Directly or indirectly, he will confirm my identity."

"When they catch him, they will torture him," Wolfgang whispered, his voice shaking.

"He knows," LeBeau said, suppressing a shudder. "They have done it before."

"Once they feel secure that they have the Stage, they will relax their guard. And then after a suitable period, you and other underground units will attack. The details will be worked out by Cleopatra and Richard after I am gone. All I ask is that you do not delay too long.

"To make certain that the right man is rescued, I will take off the mask. It will also mean that those who have seen me must leave the area after the mission. Those who are not prepared to do so, please leave the room."

No one moved.

Slowly, the Stage's hand lifted toward the mask. Slowly, the mask was removed.

Wolfgang gasped as the Stage was revealed. "Mein Gott! Nein!"

LeBeau turned at the barely audible whisper. "You know him?" LeBeau said softly.

The man nodded; his face was unnaturally pale. "Mein Gott!" Wolfgang buried his face in his hands. "Mein Gott!"

"Please do not mistake me for another," the Stage said dryly, concluding his remarks. "I am sorry to disappoint those who believed those ridiculously romantic descriptions of me. I am afraid I am not as young or as handsome as I was made out to be."

"Oh, I don't know about that," murmured an older man near the front.

There were nervous laughs from the crowd.

"Your courage is all that it was made out to be," Richard said.

"Oh, I don't know about that," echoed the Stage amid even more nervous laughter. He stood. "I leave before dawn," he said softly. "Do not fail me."

He stood and walked into the crowd.

"He can't be serious," Kinch said.

"He is," Hogan said, anger in his voice.

"After what he's been through!" Newkirk shook his head.

Hogan looked at the Stage, making his way through the crowd. "I know."

Richard overheard him. "What has he been through?"

Hogan looked at him. "You don't know?"

Richard shook his head.

Hogan took a deep breath. "Well, let me fill you in." He and Richard stepped away from the others.

The Stage had made his way to the table at back wall. His manner indicated that he would rather be left alone. And he was. He glanced at the food and idly picked up a piece of sausage.

"I believe that one is your favorite," the man next to him said and pointed.

The Stage lifted his head and met the shorter man's eyes.

The two men stared at each other, one's eyes brimming with emotion; the other, controlling the emotion he felt.

The Stage began to smile. "This explains the explosion at the factory."

Wolfgang tried to smile as well. "Ja." But he couldn't.

"And Franz?"

"Another unit," Wolfgang said in a trembling voice.

"I am glad," the Stage said softly. "I am glad that our earlier discussions had some effect."

"It took a long time before we finally saw the truth. And by then, we thought you had changed." Wolfgang's voice shook. "The stories . . . " he finished lamely.

Another smile. "Ja, the stories."

"We did not want to believe them, but you were never home," Wolfgang said. "And when you were . . . "

"I know," he said. "All I could hope for was that in spite of the stories you still loved me."

"Loved you!" Wolfgang's voice broke and, to LeBeau's shock, he moved toward the Stage. A warning shake of his superior's head stopped him. Wolfgang's eyes held tears. "You cannot go through with this!" he said, desperation deepening his voice.

"I must," was the quiet reply. "Nothing has changed, Wolfgang. If you cannot accept that, then leave. All of you leave immediately."

Wolfgang fought for control. "Nein, I will not abandon the Stage. Especially not now."

A smile. "Danke, Wolfgang."

A hand on his shoulder. Wolfgang clutched it convulsively before the Stage turned away.

LeBeau stared after the departing Stage and then back at Wolfgang. Tears on his cheeks, Wolfgang turned away from him.

The Stage returned to Cleopatra. Seeing his expression, she slipped her hand around his arm. "I could not tell you, my friend."

"I am glad I know," he said softly. "But I wish it were not tonight."

"He will not fail you," Cleopatra said. "In that respect, he is very much like you." She patted his arm and left him beside Hogan.

Hogan glanced at the still man.

"Aren't you going to ask?" the Stage asked in a low voice.

"You'll tell me when you're ready," Hogan said evenly.

A faint, sad smile. "He is my brother, Robert." He glanced at Hogan's surprised expression. "My brother(2). I had no idea he was even in the Resistance."

"It appears that courage runs in the family," Hogan said.

The Stage sighed. "Or madness."

"I'm glad you admit it," Hogan said with some heat. "You're nuts, you know. There's got to be another way."

The Stage shook his head. "Save for an all out attack that would be suicide, there isn't."

"You could leave him," Hogan said softly.

"You could have left me," the Stage said in the same tone.

Hogan's eyes met his. After a moment, Hogan's eyes fell and he shook his head.

"Neither can I leave him," the Stage whispered. Then a glance at his watch. "The next twenty-four hours promise to be difficult. I must get some sleep." He looked at Hogan. "I am open to other suggestions. But right now, I can see no alternative. Can you?"

Hogan shook his head. "I'll think of something."

A serious smile. "I hope you do, Robert. I really do." A quick look around; people were starting to drift out of the room. "Richard and Cleopatra are making their plans for the raid. Talk to her if you think of anything. But for now, there are two rooms adjacent to this one. You and your men need to sleep as well. It will be a long night and there will be more people coming later. "

Hogan's eyes stayed on the Stage as he left the room.


Endnotes

1 William Shakespeare: Hamlet

2 Wolfgang is mentioned in a letter from Klink's mother in "The Gypsy".