ALLEGIANCE
No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred and in no way intends to infringe upon the privileges of the holders of the copyrights, trademarks, or other legal rights of the Hogan's Heroes Universe.
Text and original characters copyright 2006 by Teresa Strati
CHAPTER SEVEN
Invasion of the Mind
It was easy for the exhausted Colonel to dismiss his hands slipping off the rungs of the ladder as a nuisance. Even clipping his foot climbing out of the tunnel and smashing his shoulder against the adjacent bunk was brushed off as a mere annoyance.
But when the short walk to his quarters turned into a woozy navigational feat, Hogan gave rise to his anger and slammed his door shut.
...000…
"I did you a bloody favour!" boomed down the passageway of tunnel five, immediately followed by the sound of a body being thrown against the tunnel wall.
Shocked by what he believed was an unprovoked attack, Garner lunged at his aggressor. "I'm no spy!"
"And I ain't no prisoner of war," Newkirk retorted, shoving their prisoner forward to where Kinch was straightening an overturned chair.
Another push from Newkirk and Garner all but fell into the chair. "What's wrong with you? I blew up a Kraut," he countered, squirming when Kinch pushed his arms behind the back of the chair and began binding them.
"Never crossed ya mind who'd be caught in the crossfire, did it, mate?" Newkirk asked caustically, waving the revolver he'd confiscated earlier.
"We're in the middle of a bloody war!" Garner spat back. "Every man and his dog is caught in the crossfire!"
The sound of the revolver being cocked caught Kinch's attention, along with Garner's sudden intake of breath.
"And which category would you fall into?" Newkirk asked, holding the revolver before his eyes.
"I blew up a Kraut. What did you do?"
"Tell the Colonel we have Garner secured," Kinch told Newkirk, deliberately moving to stand before him.
Every nerve ending cried out for release. Newkirk knew very well what he wanted to do, but instead, lowering his arm and muttering a simple "Yeah," to Kinch, he turned and left.
"I did you a favour!" Garner yelled after him, craning his neck to see around Kinch. "You don't have any idea what's happening out there! How could you? Safe and sound in your own private camp being pampered by –"
Suddenly a force slammed against Garner. Grabbing him by the collar, Kinch twisted the material in his hand until Garner's face reddened from lack of oxygen. "One more word out of you –" another pull, cutting off the moan about to escape his lips, "- and I'll do us all a favour!"
...000…
Standing at attention outside the Kommandant's office, Sergeant Schultz pondered the recent horrific course of events and toyed with the idea that maybe he should give the compound one final inspection, and while he was performing that duty, use that time to inspect the prisoners in the medical hut. After all, he thought to himself, it was his duty as Sergeant.
In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it made perfect sense, so much so that he shouldered his rifle and had just taken two steps away from his post, when Major Hochstetter charged out of the Kommandant's office and collided with him.
"Herr Major – Kommandant Klink has ordered – "
"What?" Hochstetter yelled. "Why aren't you patrolling the camp? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"
"Herr Major? Jawohl, Herr Major, just what I - "
But Hochstetter wasn't interested and letting out an exasperated "Ahhhhh!" stormed off.
Schultz sighed, then, relieved, took another two steps away from his post when -
General Burkhalter rushed out of Klink's office, straight past him and into his own staff car.
Schultz didn't move any more than he had to – until the staff car sped off. Then, the portly sergeant cautiously pitter-pattered the few remaining steps to the door and –
"Schuuuuuuuultz!"
Crestfallen, Shultz dragged himself back to the Kommandant's office.
...000…
Hogan was at a loss.
Unable to fight what was clearly incapacitating him, he lay down and in frustration threw his arm over his eyes. Sudden sharp, shooting pain sped down his arm, reminding the Colonel of his earlier collision with another bunk bed. "Damn!" he groaned, but he kept his eyes shut and his arm where it was.
Then, as the physically and mentally exhausted Colonel succumbed to an enforced state of repose, long buried horrors blurred the line between nightmare and war.
Cradled in his arms, he felt her shiver.
He held her, though she was bruised and bleeding from grotesque wounds inflicted all over her body, relaxing his grip only when he thought the very act of holding her may cause her more pain. Bloodshot eyes stared directly at him, anguish and sorrow reflected within them. "You're safe," he heard himself say. As if in acknowledgement the eyes closed, with a lone tear escaping to fall down her blood-smeared cheek.
They had to get out.
He, Newkirk and Carter had never expected to find the women alive and they never expected to be confronted by a mother and son who lured and tortured men and women then passed them onto the Gestapo.
The son's wails rang in his ears; even in his sleep he felt himself flinch at the memory – "No, mamma. You said I could keep her! You said! You said!"
The injured woman in Hogan's arms groaned.
He stiffened. He had to get out. He had to get them all out of there.
Bile churned in his stomach.
Jolted awake by a sickening sensation, Hogan's eyes flew open. His stomach lurched to such a degree that he rolled off his cot, stumbled to the basin outside his quarters and immediately threw up.
Coughing and spluttering, Hogan held on to the sides of the basin until the retching stopped. But even when it did, spots played before his eyes. His grip faltered; his legs buckled -
"Relax, I've got you," a voice behind him said, as strong hands grabbed his upper arms, holding him steady.
Relieved, Hogan shut his eyes, feeling every ounce of energy he had left drain from his body.
Doc felt Hogan's body sag. "Let's get you back to bed," he said, wrapping one of Hogan's arms around his shoulder and his own arm around Hogan's waist.
The idea had merit, Hogan thought as he allowed himself to be assisted to his bunk. The mattress did little to cushion his aching limbs. " – need to speak to – "
"Later," Doc cut him off, seeing Hogan perspire just from the walk back to his quarters.
" – Kommandant – thin mattress – "
"When you're back on your feet and fully recovered, you can speak to whoever you want."
He stared at Doc, but Doc wasn't done fussing over him yet. "Enjoying flexing " his throat was sore.
Doc held a glass of water to his lips. He drank a little—then continued with what he was saying "- those military muscles?" forcing a smile. The stern look on Doc's face reminded Hogan about something else he wanted to say, but –
Doc watched the Colonel's eyes close. Then, pulling up a chair to begin his vigil, he muttered, "No. Can't find much to enjoy lately."
...000…
Inconspicuous fragments of earth systematically loosened, dropping from roughly hewn walls to the dirt ground. Coupled with muffled voices and the ominous play of shadows, the tunnels beneath the compound emitted an eerie ambiance.
Stumbling from the safety of her own enclosure, Johanna trudged down the dimly lit tunnel, lured by the angry sounds reaching her. "I'm no spy!" She stopped; she recognized it – the voice of the man who had grabbed her earlier. She continued walking towards it. "I did you a favour!" she heard a little more clearly. She stopped again. Her hands began shaking. Dear God, she prayed – that voice.
Gunfire. Screaming. Someone threw her to the ground – fell on her. "You've got the wrong man..." sounded through the commotion.
"No," she gasped, throwing her hands to her ears as the tunnel walls became a cocoon amplifying her thoughts in all their horror.
"…I'm no spy!"
Johanna fell to her knees.
She couldn't move. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't. The weight had her pinned to the ground where all she could do was listen to the screams and see feet running, bodies falling then lying still in pools of their own blood, and black boots - so close to her face she could smell the leather. All of a sudden, the weight lifted and she was forcefully grabbed and dragged out. When she dared to glance behind her, she saw the body of the café owner where she had been.
"No," she begged the darkness surrounding her.
"I killed a Kraut!" she heard with clarity.
There was no mistaking it – it was one and the same. Stumbling to her feet, Johanna walked towards the voices and turned an alcove just as Kinch's threat to Garner reached her ears. Clutching her gloves, Johanna stepped out of the gloom and, staring at the man now restrained in an old chair, she said, "I must speak to your Colonel."
...000…
"Begging ya pardon- " Newkirk said to no-one as he opened the door to the Colonel's quarters and stuck his head in.
And that was all Doc was going to allow before grabbing the handle and scowling at the humble Englander.
" 'Ere right, Doc. Don't kill the messenger. Got word the lady we have down below has to speak to the Gov now," Newkirk hastily explained.
Doc kept his hand on the door. "He's not going anywhere. If it's that important, bring her here."
"Sir?"
And the door shut.
But in no time, three small taps were heard and when the door opened, Johanna stepped into Hogan's quarters.
Hogan stirred and then, embarrassed, sat up- very, very slowly.
"I need to – " Standing before the bunk bed, Johanna couldn't help but notice his disheveled appearance, the dark, almost purple, circles under his eyes. "…speak to you," she finished, stepping away until she backed into the wooden desk. Embarrassed, she didn't know what to do. She had suspected he wasn't well earlier but never gave it another thought. "I'm sorry," she hastily added, tearing her eyes from Hogan to Doc.
There was that stern look again, Hogan noted. "I'm fine," he said simply, but even he knew that he sounded drained.
Doc and Johanna exchanged concerned looks.
"Sit down," Hogan directed to Johanna.
Again, she glanced at Doc before doing anything.
Hogan ran his fingers through his hair. "I promise I won't move," he said to Doc, who was still holding the door slightly open. "And if Johanna sits down, I won't have to exert any energy looking up at her."
Johanna sat. "It's important," she hastily added.
"You wouldn't be here if it wasn't."
"I won't be long," she told them both, noting how awkward Hogan's movements seemed as he adjusted his shirt.
"No, you won't," Doc agreed. "You'll be –" He glanced at his watch. "- exactly three minutes. I'll be outside. Counting."
As soon as Doc left, Hogan tried to rise. Immediately, Johanna shot out of her chair to help him but he quickly staved her off, opting instead to use the edge of the bunk to stand. Once on his feet, and painfully aware that every movement contributed to his light-headedness, the Colonel leaned his weight against the bunk for support and decided to delegate. "Do me a favour – stick your head around that door and ask my men to get you a strong black coffee."
"I don't drink coffee," she informed him, confused.
"No, but I do," he said, leaning further against the bunk. "And I sure could use a cup, now."
Johanna did as she was asked and was almost immediately presented with a hot cup of black coffee, which she held just out of Hogan's reach. Concern in her voice, she said, "Only if you sit down."
There was no missing it: the brief, lopsided grin – just before he sank onto his bunk. "The man you have in the tunnel; the one who attacked me," Johanna began, handing him the coffee, "I don't think he's who he says he is."
"We know that," he agreed, holding the cup tightly.
"That's not going to make you sick, is it?" Johanna asked concerned.
A raised eyebrow was all she got in reply.
"It's his voice," she explained. "I remembered it," she quickly added. "I know I've heard it before – elsewhere – away from here."
In between sips, Hogan noticed her wringing her hands; the same way she did when she revealed her ordeal of being a prisoner of the Kriminalkommissar. "Sit down," he calmly said, but she ignored him. "If you don't sit down and you collapse, I can't lift you. Then we'll both have Doc on our backs," he repeated, a smile in his voice.
She sat but solemnly looked at him. "He was at the café," she said, "I know he was. I heard him. You said the Gestapo knew of our network – my team. The Resistance wanted us to get someone important out. All we were told was that we had to get him out of the country and that the café owner would direct us to him. I know voices. He was there. He was the one we had to get out."
Hogan brought the cup to his lips, sipped then stared at his empty cup. He'd finished his coffee and never even noticed.
"You don't believe me," Johanna said, when Hogan went quiet. "You said my team was betrayed, that the Kriminalkommissar knew about us. Well, they knew about him, too. They even called him by his code name when they arrested him."
Hogan's head shot up. "What code name?"
"Papa Bear."
...000…
