Chapter 4:

An hour went by since Kalina had left camp, and as usual, Hogan was pacing back and forth waiting for her safe return. As he did so, Kinch sat at the radio table watching his commander quietly. The sergeant was about to say something, when the two of them heard soft footsteps approaching the room. Both of them turned their attention to the left and saw the little teenager emerge into the opening. Her body was shaking, and her lip was trembling.

Hogan grinned at her and made his way over to her.

"Kalina, how did it go tonight? First assignment done and out of the way," he said, beaming with pride.

Kalina tightened her lips together and looked off to the side while hanging her head. Where did she even begin? How did you tell someone you respected so much that you completely blew off their orders and got someone arrested by the Gestapo for doing so? She was so ashamed she could hardly look at him.

Sensing the bad aura coming off of her, Hogan's grin turned into a frown full of concern. His eyes softened even more watching as she shivered violently.

"Kalina, what's wrong? Are you alright, hon?" He asked.

Kalina sniffled and shook her head. After letting out a shaky breath of air, she turned her eyes up at the colonel and tried to speak.

"Colonel Hogan...I...please don't get angry at me. I didn't know any better. Had I known, I never would have...please don't be mad at me." She pleaded.

"Why would I be mad at you? What happened out there tonight? You got the information, right?" Hogan prodded, none of what she was saying making any sense to him.

As she was about to answer, the radio began beeping like crazy. Hogan immediately turned his attention to the table and hurried to Kinch, who was listening to the person on the other line. The radioman covered the microphone with his hand and turned to face his commander.

"It's Calico, Colonel. Is he awful mad, too," he reported.

"Mad about what?" Hogan asked.

"I don't know. He's demanding to talk to you, though," Kinch said.

Hogan took the headset and sat down in Kinch's place, as the staff sergeant got to his feet and made his way over to Kalina's side.

"Papa Bear to Calico, this is Papa Bear. Over," Hogan said.

Kinch turned to look at Kalina, who appeared pale as a ghost and like she was about to be sick.

"Kalina, what's going on, kiddo? What happened tonight, did something go wrong?" He asked, trying to soothe the young girl. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, making Kalina shudder and buried her face into the tunnel wall. She slowly looked back in the colonel's direction.

Hogan listened to the contact, the headphones covering his ears. Kalina watched his features as she leaned against the cool, damp walls. She felt sick...she had only stopped for a moment to look at the skirt in the shop window. Had she'd known the Gestapo were after One Eye, she would have never paused in her walk to begin with.

Hogan's frown grew stronger as his eyes met hers. She spotted disappointment and anger in his brown eyes. He finally spoke. "I'm sorry, Calico. It was my mistake. I should've sent a more experienced dancer."

The little Klink flinched and ducked her eyes down to her shoes. The jab was sharp, but she had not expected it to twist her heart so badly.

"When's the next recital?...Roger, Calico. Papa Bear over and out."

He flicked the radio off and pulled the headset from his ears. "Kinch, why don't you go up and get a fresh cup of coffee," Hogan said, though the three of them knew that it was a command, not a request. As soon as Kinch excused himself and closed the bunk entrance, Hogan stared back at Kalina and began.

"What happened?" His voice held a slight edge, but the intention was clear. This was her chance to come clean and admit fault.

She licked her lips, which felt outstandingly chapped, and swallowed. Her mouth felt dry, her hands clammy, and her heart was pounding so hard that she thought it would jump out of her chest. She hated being in trouble. "Well," she started. "I was on my way to the meeting, and I had plenty of time to spare still...it was so cold. I almost collapsed three times walking there from how much the wind stung...I would have been fifteen minutes had I'd kept going. I wanted to have a few minutes to get warm and didn't want to hang around at the barn to look suspicious, so I...stopped to look in the shop windows. There was this light blue skirt that was so pretty, and I was admiring it when the shop manager came out and started talking to me. I still had ten minutes or so...so I followed him inside. I bought the skirt and put it on Papa's account...the manager just kept talking to me, though. Every time I made a move toward the door or tried to excuse myself, he would pull me over to another display. I couldn't get out until some Gestapo colonel distracted him long enough for me to dash out the door...I ran the whole way there, but I was too late...I'm sorry, Colonel Hogan. I'll make it up to you. I'll head to the next meeting an hour early if I have to!"

Hogan had been leaning against the radio table with his arms folded over his chest. He did not say anything for the entire recount, but slowly he shook his head. "No, you won't," he said firmly.

"But, but, Colonel Hogan, I have to make up for what I did...I have to make this right."

"No. You have to do as you're told." His voice raised slightly, tone steely. "I sent you on that mission because I thought you were mature enough to handle it. I thought you were grown up enough. That you understood the stakes and would keep your focus on the information you were to collect. Vital information, for which two men died, that is now rendered useless." He switched to out right yelling now. "For God's sake, Kalina! One lousy skirt?! I can't believe you'd be so childish...selfish...OR foolish! What were you thinking? Or were you?"

The little Klink started to cry, not able to control her sobs. She furiously wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. How dare her eyes betray her like this. Now he would think she was an even bigger baby.

Hogan lost some of the bluster, but she could tell he was still upset. "I want you back up top. I want you away from the missions until you can prove to me that you can handle it. Is that clear?"

She nodded mutely and as soon as he said 'dismissed', she stumbled through the tunnel system as fast as her short legs would carry her. She climbed the ladder into her father's quarters and slid the stove back into place. She then proceeded to collapse onto the couch and melted into her tears. She felt horrible. Guilty. Evil. She felt like a fool. She had completely blown it. Her father wanted nothing to do with her, and now Hogan did not even want to look in her direction. Maybe coming to Stalag 13 had been the biggest mistake in her life. She did not deserve to be a part of Hogan's highly regarded operation. She did not even deserve to know the kindhearted, accepting man himself. Maybe she was meant to serve the Allies in a different way. One that involved her leaving her homeland and everyone she loved behind.

Not able to handle the guilt anymore, she began to bawl loudly and uncontrollably. She tried to wipe away the tears, but they streamed down her face like a rushing river headed for a waterfall. She continued crying, not even noticing Schultz had entered inside to give the night report to her father, when he spotted her and grew deeply concerned for her.

"Kalina," he gasped. "What's wrong?"

"Schultz," she sobbed. "Hold me…"

The fluffy sergeant quickly made his way to her side, completely forgetting about his task at hand, and brought the little girl close to him. He hugged her tight, hushed her once and awhile, and kissed the top of her head.

"Sshhhhhhh...sshhhhhhh. There there, now. Do not cry, Kalina. It's alright. Everything is alright," he said softly.

Kalina latched onto Schultz and continued to cry.

"Colonel Hogan...Colonel Hogan, I'm sorry!" She bawled.


No one saw Kalina the next morning at roll call. Klink was there. Schultz was there. Little Kalina was nowhere to be found. The sergeant of the guard later told Kinch, Carter, LeBeau, and Newkirk that she was in bed sick with a mild case of the flu, but all five of them knew better. They knew exactly why she was not up and about. She did not want to face Hogan or her father. She was too guilt ridden to even be in both of their presence. The guys asked if there was anything they could do to cheer their little friend up, but Schultz said she should be alone until she was ready to come out of her room by herself.

Klink was in his office, giddy as a schoolgirl about what he was hearing around camp. He was humming classical German tunes, had a spring in every step he took, and felt as if he had woke up twenty years younger. He was organizing papers on his desk, when a knock came on the door.

"Come in, come in," he said, joyful.

The door opened, and Schultz waddled inside before giving his commander a salute.

"Herr Kommandant, there is something that I…" Klink cut the guard off before he had a chance to finish his sentence.

"Schultz, haven't you heard the news? Oh, isn't it terrific? Kalina and Colonel Hogan are not getting along anymore. Ha ha ha, it's like falling in love again!"

"Herr Kommandant, Kalina is the something I need to talk to you about," Schultz resumed. "She is not speaking to anybody, Herr Kommandant. Whatever happened between her and Colonel Hogan, she is beating herself up over immensely."

"Oh, it's just a phase. She'll forget all about whatever it is and the prisoners eventually, and soon she'll be socializing with the other guards instead of Hogan and his men. I'm even thinking of, uh, hiring a young fellow to be one of my new guards around here. I think he and Kalina would get along very nicely together."

"Herr Kommandant, she did not eat any of her breakfast this morning when I brought it into her. It was even her favorite meal: chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a tall glass of apple juice."

"Schultz, you have children. You must know that as they become teenagers they try to be friends with people they think are their friends, but end up being the wrong crowd to begin with. This is just one of those rebellious stages my daughter's growing out of, and then she'll soon be reporting to us what all of Hogan's funny business around here is about. Don't you see, Schultz? Kalina is the positive change that is going to help our glorious Third Reich into victory with this war! I couldn't be more proud of her."

"I do not think refusing to eat is much of a rebellious behavior in a young girl, Herr Kommandant. I think we should get Colonel Hogan to talk to her about what's upsetting her and make her feel better."

Klink smirked before bursting out into full blown laughter.

"Oh Schultz, you're getting funnier in your older age." He cried.

"Herr Kommandant, I…"

"Schultz, as much as I am enjoying this conversation with you, I must finish the rest of this paperwork for General Burkhalter before the end of tonight. Besides, there's another argument going on in barracks twenty two with those hooligans that were drunk yesterday. I can't understand where they're getting all this whiskey from though."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz said, with a salute. He turned on his boots and made his way back outside into the compound, leaving his commanding officer to chuckle at his own thoughts.

"Make Colonel Hogan talk to Kalina so she's all better," he said, to himself. "That's as funny as the Allies winning the war."


Newkirk walked into the barracks looking completely drained of energy. His shoulders sagged, his frown drooped, and he threw his deck of cards onto the table as he sat down with the rest of his friends.

"Did you get her to talk, Pierre?" LeBeau asked, looking up at the Englishman.

"I couldn't even get her to play a game of gin with me," Newkirk answered, with a heavy sigh. "Poor little mate. I said the Gov'nor's name one time, and she burst out crying. After I got her to calm down and drink a little water, I came back here so she could get some rest."

"Poor Kalina," Carter said, fumbling with his hands. "I mean I know she messed up, but it's not like she just forgot all about the assignment. She tried to get that store manager to let her go. Several times she tried to get out of there."

"Had we all known that the Gestapo was after One Eye so bad, she would have never stopped to begin with. I would have done the same thing had I'd been in her shoes." Newkirk added.

"You would have stopped to go inside and buy a skirt?" LeBeau asked, raising his eyebrow in slight concern.

"You bloody know what I mean," the English corporal retorted, taking a cigarette out to smoke.

"I feel bad about Kalina too, but we all know the rules. If Colonel Hogan gives us an assignment to do, we best better do as he says or else. He doesn't handle people disobeying him lightly. Especially if it resulted in two underground agents being killed," Kinch said, sitting in Hogan's spot.

"Do you think we could get Colonel Hogan to go over and talk with ma petite ami about it?" LeBeau asked.

"By how much he was fuming this morning still, we're better off trying to get Hochstetter to take anger management sessions," the radioman answered.

"What the bloody hell do we do about it then? I can't stand sitting here knowing poor little Kalina's in there all alone not even wanting to get out of bed." Newkirk exclaimed.

"I'm not Colonel Hogan, but maybe I could go over there later after dinner and try talking to her. Tell her that he won't be mad at her forever. He'll calm down after awhile, then he and Kalina can talk about what happen. It's like you guys said; she wasn't responsible for the Gestapo being hot on One Eye's trail. She wouldn't had kept him waiting had she'd known that fact," Kinch said.

"You think Colonel Hogan will ever forgive her, Kinch?" Carter asked.

Before the sergeant in question could give an answer, the fake bunk opened to reveal the tunnel entrance, and Hogan and an American private came up smiling and chuckling about something. After the colonel closed the entrance, he and the private made their way over to the rest of the guys, who all rose from their seat and surrounded the duo.

"Who's the yank?" Newkirk asked, pointing in the private's direction.

"Gentlemen, this is Private Timmy Whittaker. He's a resident in barracks seven," Hogan introduced.

"What's he doing over here, Sir?" Carter asked, as Kalina quietly entered inside the barracks. She was about to leave the information Hogan needed on his desk and leave, when she paused in her step and watched what was happening before her. Thankfully, no one had noticed her come in.

"He'll be joining the team temporarily. Figured I could use an extra set of hands to help out on a few assignments," Hogan said.

As the officer spoke, Kalina's jaw dropped, and her pupils dilated in size. Water burned in them, and she felt her heart break into a thousand pieces. Hogan was replacing her. Not only did she blow her chances at being on his team, but now she did not even have a chance to redeem herself. He had moved on and found a new man for the job. Probably someone more competent and mature than she was. She fought against the tears as long as she could, but the minute they started pouring down her cheeks, she sprinted out of the barracks and slammed the door behind her, turning everyone's direction to where the sound came from.

"What was that?" Whittaker asked, looking at the door.

"The wind maybe?" Hogan remarked, with a curious eyebrow.

"Must have been some huge gust of wind to make a slam like that," Kinch said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Hey Whittaker," Carter said. "Where are you from anyways?"

"Only the great city of Los Angeles," the private answered, grinning from ear to ear.

"Whoa! Los Angeles?" The technical sergeant gasped.

"You must know the celebrities then," LeBeau said, eager to hear all about the pretty girls there.

"You ever run into Clark Gable?" Kinch asked.

"No, not Clark Gable, but I did meet Humphrey Bogart while out with a group of my friends one Saturday night," Whittaker said.

Hogan chuckled as his men asked the newest member all sorts of questions about the beach, Hollywood, pretty women there, even if he had ever been offered a roll in a film. As he watched the enlisted flyers get to know one another, he could not help but feel that door slamming had been something other than a gust of wind. One of the guards? One of his men? Someone else? Kinch was right; it would have taken a strong gust of wind to cause the door to open and close that forcefully.