Disclaimer: I don't own the Heroes but they've graciously appeared in my story anyway.
1943, Nazi Germany.
1100 hours local time.
The recreation hall was usually a noisy, raucous place when occupied by the prisoners of Stalag 13, and this particular day was no exception. Between the three tenors rehearsing a rendition of the Andrews Sisters hit song 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy' as a cover for a minor tunnel repair, and the cheers coming from the spectators of a ping-pong game that threatened to reopen long-buried English—Scottish hostilities, a person had to shout to make himself heard.
The door banged open to reveal Colonel Wilhelm Klink, complete with monocle, riding crop and scowl. Behind him were Corporal Langenscheidt and two guards balancing a heavy object between them.
"Achtung!" Langenscheidt attempted. "Achtung! Kommandant Klink is here!"
The noise didn't stop. Instead, if such a thing was possible, it increased.
"There!" Newkirk made a wild swipe with his racket and sent the ball whizzing past McMahon's head. The spectators booed.
"Achtung!" Langenscheidt rattled the door for emphasis.
"So the next day the captain went out and drafted a band, Now the company jumps when he plays reville," the singers warbled.
"Never mind, Langenscheidt!" Klink stomped over to where the senior P.O.W officer was tapping a syncopated rhythm on the side of a cupboard with a pair of drumsticks. "Colonel Hogan, call your men to attention!"
"What?" Hogan looked around. "Oh, hi, Kommandant. Did you say something?"
"I said, call your men to attention!"
"Okay," Hogan shrugged, then raised his voice above the clamor. "Hey, pipe down, fellas, pipe down! The kommandant wants to talk to us!"
Gradually the noise died away as Hogan made himself heard, and the men turned to face the doorway. "Thank you, Hogan." Klink motioned to the two privates.
They carried in a large box and set it carefully on the floor. Klink struck a military pose beside it. "Now you all know that it is my desire to be fair as well as firm," he announced.
"Let's hear it for Colonel Klink's fairness," Hogan led a short round of applause.
With a smug smile, Klink waited for the clapping to end. It did so promptly. "This is the most escape-proof prison in all of Germany, and why? Because I am willing to make these little concessions in order to keep my prisoners content. I have here a new record player—" A cheer went up and drowned his last word. "—a new record player to replace the old one that Colonel Hogan says is giving you trouble."
"That's very generous of you, considering it's only been two months since I asked about it and we did contribute to the expense."
Oblivious to the sarcasm, Klink spread his hands wide. "You're most welcome. Put it right over here for now." He moved to an empty space of wall beside the cupboard and tapped his toe to indicate the exact location.
Unfortunately his action worked the hidden spring in the floorboard for the new hide they had been constructing, and the board popped up to reveal a spare radio part.
"What is this?" the kommandant demanded, picking it up to examine through his monocle. "A radio receiver!"
"Hey, who put a radio receiver here?" Hogan complained. "What's the use of that? Okay, fellas, anyone who has any more radio parts, set 'em up. I'm dying for some baseball results from home." When there was no response, he shrugged casually. "Sorry, sir. Maybe it belongs to one of your men."
"Hogan!" Klink snapped. "There will be severe punishment for this breach of regulations!"
"There goes the ping-pong table again," Hogan sighed.
"No!" Klink pointed to the phonograph box. "Take it away! They won't have it back until they have learned the lesson that nothing escapes Colonel Klink!"
Grumbling arose from the prisoners as they watched the two guards carry the box back out of the rec hall.
"Are you just gonna stand there and let him take our phonograph?" Newkirk brandished his racket as he complained.
"There's nothing I can do," Hogan replied. "When he gets nasty he stays nasty. I'll give him a while to cool down and then ask for it back. Hopefully he will have forgotten about the radio part by then."
"That shouldn't take too long," LeBeau chuckled. "M'sieur Klink's memory has never been very good."
They were seated around the table waiting for LeBeau to dish up one of his mysterious unnamed specialty dishes when Kinch climbed the ladder out of the tunnel. In his hand was a slip of paper. "Message from London, sir. There's some information coming into camp from an underground unit that they want passed on to an agent. They couldn't say more."
Hogan scrutinized the paper. "Did they say how the information would be coming into camp?"
"Nope." Kinch sat down and picked up his fork.
"Did they tell us who the underground unit is?" Carter asked from across the table.
"Nope."
LeBeau ladled a thick, steaming substance onto each plate. "You all are going to love this recipe. Did they mention who the agent is and how he'll contact us?"
"Nope again." Kinch shrugged.
"That's lovely, that is," Newkirk shook his head. "Sounds like my favorite kind of operation. I just hate knowin' what's going on." He took a bite of his meal and choked.
LeBeau patted him on the back. "That's the black pepper. See, I told you you'd like it."
Hogan had just entered the particularly enthusiastic volleyball game, replacing a player who left with a nosebleed after taking an elbow to the face, when Klink came marching across the yard toward him. "I need to talk to you, Hogan."
"Just a minute." Hogan served and joined in the shouts as Newkirk dove for the ball, nearly ending up head-first in the net. "Go ahead."
"I would like to speak—" Klink paused as Hogan's attention was clearly not on him. "—privately, if you don't mind."
"S'cuse me, fellas." Hogan ducked out of the game and over to a quieter spot. "What seems to be the trouble?"
"We are going to be visited by a Captain von Schwenke from Berlin. Now I want to make a good impression on the captain, and I am warning you that any infraction of the rules will be crushed without mercy!"
"Whose ear does he have? The fat flyer or the Gestapo guy with glasses?" Hogan bantered. Speechless with annoyance, Klink waved a clenched fist. "Sorry, sir. Is he Luftwaffe, Gestapo or maybe Wehrmacht?"
"Captain von Schwenke is one of our most promising young pilots, and I intend to show him every courtesy during his visit." Klink sniffed. "He may enjoy a tour of the camp, and in that case I will expect you and your men to have the barracks in order."
Hogan eyed a chance to get the record player back. "You, ah, is he planning to be here for a meal? My man LeBeau is a wonderful chef—"
"We will dine at the Hofbrau in town," Klink informed him haughtily. "I will invite some of our local officers and we will enjoy a small party."
"Oh." Hogan stuck out his lower lip thoughtfully. "We'll be on our best behavior . . . oh, by the way, Colonel, I was wondering if you were ready to give our record player back?"
"No!" Klink snapped. "You need to be taught a lesson. No record player!"
"If you say so. But it's pretty hard on morale when the phonograph stutters and makes Tommy Dorsey sound like his trombone has the hiccups," Hogan sulked. "You wouldn't like to blame your first escape from Stalag 13 on a sneezing orchestra, would you?"
"This is the most escape-proof prison in all of Germany," Klink began.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you've taken extra security precautions and there's no chance we can escape," Hogan filled in wearily. "That particular record must be broken—it keeps repeating over and over."
He gave a casual, slouching, limp-handed salute and headed back to the volleyball game.
"Something up?" Kinch asked him under cover of a collision between two players.
Hogan blocked the ball one-fisted. "Just Klink's usual speech. There's a Kraut captain coming into camp and he doesn't want anyone to make him look bad."
"Maybe that agent will try and get into camp using the visit as a diversion," Kinch suggested.
"Good point. I just wish London would give us a bit more information about what's going on. You did ask them to tell you more?"
"I did," Kinch confirmed with a sigh. "Three times I asked. They don't know anything more than what they told us—apparently the underground unit that's passing on the information had to shut down radio contact in a hurry."
"Great. I guess we just wait and see what turns up." Hogan shifted his attention back to the game just in time to see the ball coming at his face. There was a loud smacking sound as it impacted.
Nursing a vaguely purplish-black forehead, Colonel Hogan was studying a map of western Germany when Newkirk tapped on his office door. "Beggin' your pardon, Colonel, but that Kraut captain just drove into camp. Looks like Klink's givin' him the grand tour."
"Thanks, Newkirk." Hogan went to the barracks door, where the rest of his men were gathered. "Hmm. A Luftwaffe captain with three soldiers to escort him? This guy must be some kind of somebody to warrant treatment like that."
Colonel Klink was practically dancing with overinflated ego as the captain spoke to him. Within minutes the two were walking directly toward Hogan's men, trailed by the three guards.
The prisoners came to attention, or at least as much as they ever did for visiting German brass. Hogan stepped forward. "Colonel Hogan, senior officer of the prisoners reporting, sir!"
"Ah, Captain von Schwenke, this is Colonel Hogan, our senior P.O.W. officer," Klink repeated. "Hogan, Captain von Schwenke of the Luftwaffe."
"Captain," Hogan nodded in a not unfriendly manner.
The tall, blond-haired officer offered a precise salute and a click of his heels. "A pleasure, Colonel. You were a pilot?" He spoke very good English with a trace of a German accent under the British.
"Still am one, in fact, just temporarily on holiday," Hogan smiled. "Fighters or bombers?"
"Captain von Schwenke is testing our new Focke-Wulf fighter plane. His advice is very highly valued in Berlin," Klink chattered. He subsided as the captain eyed him with the same look a hausfrau gives a weevil she finds crawling in her sack of flour.
"Colonel Hogan will of course understand that we cannot discuss military matters of the Third Reich in the presence of an Allied prisoner," von Schwenke said evenly.
"You speak very good English, Captain," Hogan commented to keep up the social chit-chat. People often didn't realize how much they gave away while making small talk.
Von Schwenke gave a gracious inclination of his head. "I was fortunate to enjoy a great deal of travel as a youngster, which included time spent in Britain. My nurse taught me to read the English language from books of children's tales when I was but five years of age."
"Is that so?" Hogan prompted.
"Yes. My favorite was always the tale of Goldilocks and the Three Bears." He smiled in a distant, reminiscing way.
Hogan felt LeBeau's sharp intake of breath beside him, and Newkirk abruptly cleared his throat.
"You are familiar with the story?" von Schwenke asked. "I had a particular fondness for the character of Papa Bear. He seemed to know such a great deal."
"Isn't it marvellous how things we read in our childhood stay with us in later life?" Klink broke in with his characteristic nervous giggle. "I remember reading the story of Rapunzel by the brothers Grimm when I was a small child—"
"But no one's gonna climb a tower by your hair," Hogan's remark effectively reduced the kommandant to outraged splutters. Von Schwenke bit the corner of his lip and managed not to smile.
"Ho-gan!" Klink gasped.
Colonel Hogan arranged his face into suitable remorse. "Sorry, sir. Bad taste."
"Shall we continue the tour?" Klink asked when he had pulled himself together and gotten his voice back.
"Sure, don't let me hold you up," Hogan waved his hand around in a semicircle. "This is Barracks 2, a fairly standard example, decorated in a casual grimy era. Would you care to see inside?"
Klink tugged on his guest's elbow. "Captain, there is no need for you to be subjected to Hogan's peculiar style of humor. I would be most happy to show you any of the prisoners' barracks that you care to see. Dismissed, Hogan."
"Perhaps we will have a chance to talk later, Colonel." Von Schwenke bowed formally and allowed himself to be led away.
"Colonel, do you think he could be the agent?" LeBeau hissed as soon as the Germans were out of earshot.
"I don't know. If he is, he's running a big risk being seen here. Top test pilots don't usually hang out with bald eagles that have had their wings clipped." Hogan ducked back inside. "Tell Kinch to ask London about him. I'll see if I can talk to him again before he and Klink go out to dinner."
Newkirk snatched up the five of diamonds and added it to his hand with a gleeful chuckle. "The trouble is, what am I gonna throw out?" he asked himself out loud.
"How 'bout throwing the seven of clubs?" Carter suggested.
"Because I haven't got the seven of clubs, now, have I?" the Englishman retorted. "Trust you to ask something like that."
Carter smiled innocently, undisturbed by Newkirk's evident contempt. "At least I know you haven't got the seven of clubs in your hand."
Newkirk's snort was interrupted by the opening of the door. Schultz marched in with a small, dark-haired man in German uniform trailing behind him. "Guten Tag, everyone. Please, don't get up," Schultz said graciously. "This is only an informal visit."
"Hi, Schultz," Carter said as though just noticing him. No one moved to rise.
"Is Colonel Hogan here?" the other soldier asked timidly, glancing around the barracks.
Newkirk turned his head, looked the soldier up and down, and then nodded to LeBeau. The Frenchman dropped his wooden spoon into the dish he was seasoning and went to knock on the office door. The card players continued with their game.
"Colonel Hogan, one of the guards that arrived with the Boche captain is here wanting to see you." The words made Hogan's head snap up.
"Thanks, LeBeau. Send him in . . . and stand by, huh?"
"Oui." LeBeau went back to the stove and immediately stirred his mixture. "The colonel is in his office," he threw over his shoulder.
"Danke." The German checked over both shoulders again and then entered the office.
Schultz looked over Newkirk's shoulder. "I hope that he does not make Colonel Hogan upset. I saw him get hit with the ball during the volleyball game, and he will not be happy to have his rest interrupted. I think you should play this card, Newkirk."
The Englishman scowled up at him. "I'm playin' this game, if you don't mind, Schultzie?" He dropped the eight of diamonds on the discard pile.
"Gin." Carter laid down his hand.
"I thought you wanted the seven of clubs!" Newkirk exploded, throwing down his cards to reveal a hand that, except for the seven, would have been gin.
Carter grinned and began to shuffle the deck. "I know. That's why I didn't need it."
"Something I can do for you?" Hogan inquired calmly. "I'd offer you a chair, but we tend toward more sparse furnishings here."
"I am fine," the German soldier replied. "I just need to talk to you, Colonel."
"Talk away." Hogan leaned his shoulders against his upper bunk and crossed his arms.
In an almost inaudible voice, the soldier said, "The clouds hang heavy over the parched land." His expression was half way between hope and apprehension.
Hogan started at the code phrase used to identify the underground unit operating out of Dusseldorf. "But no rain gives relief to the earth," he replied after a moment. "You're the agent they said was coming in? Not von Schwenke?"
"Von Schwenke is no Allied agent," the soldier declared. "He is exactly what he appears to be—an aristocratic pilot who prefers the frivolous to the serious. I took the blueprints of his new plane and delivered them to the underground to make copies. Now I must have the plans back, or my superiors will know there has been a leak."
"Where are the plans? They said that the information would be coming into camp, but they didn't say how." Hogan noticed that the soldier didn't give his name, and he didn't ask.
"In the record player that was sent into camp. Please, I must have them immediately."
"Oh boy." Hogan gave a tug to his cap. "We don't have the record player yet. It was confiscated as punishment."
Panic spread over the German's face. "But I must take the plans back to Berlin! We leave in the morning!"
"Don't you worry." Hogan was already worrying enough for both of them. "I'll get your plans for you. Listen, come back here after Klink's party in town. I'll have them for you by then."
The soldier stared at him. "But Colonel—"
"Just make sure you come back here. I'll think of some way to get the plans out of the record player," Hogan assured. "You better get back to von Schwenke before he comes looking for you."
"Thank you, Colonel." The soldier moved from the office out into the barracks with Hogan trailing behind, and then turned at the door and drew himself up. With military precision he saluted the colonel.
Hogan returned the salute gravely. Speechless, the men watched the German leave with Schultz.
"Well, I got news for you. Von Schwenke isn't our agent," Hogan announced when the door closed.
"You mean it's that bloke who just left?" Newkirk asked. "Where's the information he's pickin' up? Don't suppose he told you, did 'e?"
"It's hidden in the record player that Klink confiscated." Hogan accepted a cup of coffee from LeBeau with a nod of thanks. "If I can't talk Klink into giving it up, Newkirk, I'll need your ten magic fingers to get into the storeroom. We have to have those plans to give the agent after that party of Klink's."
"It's a pity we want the phonograph," Carter observed. Everyone stared at him, and he turned red. "Well, if we didn't want it so much, Klink wouldn't mind giving it to us. He's like that, you know."
Hogan abruptly set down his coffee cup and walked out of the barracks without saying anything.
Carter looked around blankly. "Where's he going in such a hurry?"
"You probably sent him round the bend with your crazy nattering. "It's a pity we want the phonograph", indeed," Newkirk rolled his eyes.
Hogan went straight to the kommandant's private quarters, expecting to find the colonel primping in preparation for his party, but the rooms were deserted.
"That's funny," he told the vase of flowers on the table. "I was so sure he'd be here. You don't think he's still working, do you?"
The vase made no reply, and Hogan left with a shrug.
He entered the office to find Hilda's desk empty and the door to Klink's private office slightly ajar. Moving on tiptoes, he leaned against the filing cabinet to eavesdrop.
"Are you sure you can't make it to the party?" Klink whined. "We would be delighted to have you join us tonight, Fraulein Hilda."
"Danke, but I'm afraid I just can't come," Hilda's soft voice replied. "Will that be all, Herr Kommandant?"
"But I thought that perhaps after the party you and I could go to a nice little cafe . . . enjoy each other's company . . . just the two of us."
Hogan rolled his eyes. He couldn't think of anything less likely to entice a girl than the promise of undiluted Klink. Deciding it was time he rescued Hilda, he gave one firm rap to the door and strolled straight in.
"Good afternoon Kommandant, I hope I'm not intruding?" he said cheerfully, knowing full well from the way Klink scuttled back to his desk chair that he was definitely intruding.
"Of course you are, Hogan. Every time I see you, you seem to be interrupting something. Now state your business and leave. I have a party to prepare for." Col. Klink picked up a pencil and pretended to write.
Hogan winked at Hilda, and she cast him a grateful smile before vanishing out the door. "It's about the record player, sir."
"No, Hogan!" Klink threw down the pencil and glared up at him. "You may not have it!"
"It's okay, sir, I'm not asking for it back. I just wanted to tell you we've changed our minds. We'd like a piano instead."
Klink stood and stalked around his desk until they were nose to nose. "A piano?"
"Yeah. That way we can play whatever music we want and we won't be restricted to what's on the records. Nothing fancy, just a nice little grand piano from Steinway & Sons." Hogan gave an airy wave of his hand.
"But-but-but what about the record player?" Klink stammered. "It's a very good one and it cost a lot of money."
"That's your problem." Hogan saluted and turned to leave, counting the steps. His hand closed around the doorknob and twisted.
He had stepped through the doorway when he heard a "Wait, Hogan," from behind him. Concealing his smile, he spun around.
"Hogan, I have come to a decision," Klink said primly. "Since your men had the barracks in order and have not caused any trouble during Captain von Schwenke's visit, I have decided to release the record player that was being held as punishment."
"Well, that's very generous of you, sir, but really a piano would be—"
Klink cut him off. "That is my decision, Hogan. I will have Schultz and Langenscheidt take the record player to the recreation hall in the morning. Diiiis-missed."
"How about tonight, sir?" Hogan suggested. "It'll take the men's minds off the piano that much sooner, and they did so have their hearts set on it."
"All right, all right," Klink flapped his hand in annoyance. "Schultz!"
The guard entered with a gusty sigh and stains around his mouth that betrayed his habit of eating American chocolate. "You called, Herr Kommandant?"
"Yes I did. Take Colonel Hogan back to his barracks, and then you and Corporal Langenscheidt bring the confiscated record player to the recreation hall," Klink ordered, making shooing motions. "Now I really must go and prepare for my party."
Schultz heaved another sigh as he and Hogan left. "He interrupted my dinner. Now I must take you back to your barracks, and then move the phonograph, and by that time there will be nothing left of Corporal Hinklemann's potato soup."
"It's okay, Schultz." Hogan patted his shoulder consolingly. "You just go and unlock the storeroom and go back to your dinner, and Newkirk and I will move the record player."
"Oh, thank you, Colonel Hogan," Schultz beamed. He waddled away to open the storeroom as Hogan signaled for Newkirk.
The two prisoners located the record player concealed behind a stack of crates, and while Hogan stood guard, Newkirk examined the case. "This is a pretty nice player, you know, guv'nor. Must've cost a pretty penny."
"It's okay, Newkirk. I gave them counterfeit money we'd printed to buy it," Hogan reassured.
"In that case, I'm glad he got us a good one." Newkirk continued his search. "Hello, what've we got here? These look like the plans our man wants, Colonel?"
Hogan glanced over the papers that Newkirk handed him. "Perfect. Let's get this over to the rec hall before Klink changes his mind."
It was after midnight when the two staff cars drove into camp. Hogan had been sprawled on his bunk, half-dozing, but as soon as he heard the vehicles he pulled his jacket on and headed out into the night.
Ducking searchlights, he waited until Klink had gone inside before slipping over to the car. The agent was in the driver's seat, alert and anxious, but von Schwenke and the other two guards were sprawled in their seats with eyes closed and mouths open.
"Looks like you've got a few tight passengers," Hogan bantered quietly.
The German shrugged. "They will sleep all the way back to Berlin. You have the plans?"
"Safe and sound." Hogan pulled the bulging envelope from under his jacket and handed it over. "Drive carefully."
"Thank you very much, Colonel."
As the car pulled away, Hogan heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Klink coming from his quarters. "Hogan, what are you doing out of the barracks at this time of night?"
"I heard vehicles, sir, and I wanted to see what was going on. Did you have a nice party?"
Klink groaned. "No I did not have a nice party. That von Schwenke is an awful guest. Do you know what he did, Hogan?"
"No, but I have a feeling I'm going to find out." Hogan stifled a yawn.
"He told stories all evening. Nursery stories. Fairy tales! I don't think he has one serious thought in his head! Why a man like that has a trusted position as a test pilot while men of wit and talent like myself are overlooked, I'll never know."
"It's Berlin's loss, sir," Hogan consoled. "Next time you have a party for him, maybe you should take a record player. Music might distract him."
Klink ignored the suggestion. "You know, Hogan, von Schwenke's driver is as foolish as he is. He followed me all the way here from town, and then turned around and left as soon as we got here."
"Maybe he found what he was looking for," Hogan offered complacently. He saluted and left before Klink could ask him what he meant, striding back to his barracks with a jaunty swing to his step.