Chapter 7
March 28, 1945
The sun was trying to peek through the haze when Robert Hogan walked over to a tray sitting on a sideboard. He lifted the crystal decanter on the tray and sniffed. Brandy. Very expensive and very good, he'd be willing to bet. He poured some of the brandy into one of the exquisite snifters on the tray. He took the snifter over to Cleopatra. Her tears had stopped, but she was still pale.
"Meine Dame." Hogan handed her the snifter.
"Danke schön," she whispered and took a sip of the brandy. She cradled the snifter in her hands and glanced at him. "You may have a drink if you wish."
"I don't want to impose," Hogan said with rare humility.
A faint smile touched her lips. "I believe it is far too late for you to be modest, Colonel."
Hogan, looking chagrined, went back to the brandy and poured himself a larger drink. He took a sip, half wanting to smack his lips like a boy at the taste of the brandy. He settled for, "This isn't bad at all."
There was genuine humor in her small smile. "Considering the cost, it should not be." She took another sip of her brandy.
Hogan sat on the corner of the desk. "Do we have a truce?"
"That depends entirely on you, Colonel. Do you still intend on playing, what do you Amis call it, playing 'cowboy' by yourself?"
A rueful smile. "I think you've pretty much proved that we couldn't get away with it."
"No, you would not, Colonel." Cleopatra took another sip of her drink.
"Colonel. Look, you know who I am. Can I, may I, ask your real name? You really don't look like a Cleopatra, at least not like the Cleopatra in that old Claudette Colbert movie." He caught her smile. "So, how did you get that name?"
"The name, Colonel, is a private joke between two old friends." The sadness was back on her face. To Hogan's surprise, she drained the rest of her brandy. "My name, my name is Anna."
"Thank you for telling me. And I know," he said as she opened her lips, "not to be used when anyone else is around."
She smiled faintly.
Hogan took another drink. "Look, I'm sorry we made such a mess of things. But I still want to do something. I NEED to do something to spare him as much as I can. And to feel that my men and I are doing something useful. Yeah, we're used to doing things by ourselves and yeah, I'm used to being the one in charge. Right now, I feel, we feel that we aren't being useful. You don't know what we can do if we're allowed to. Nobody asked us what we can do."
"I do have some idea what you are capable of, Colonel. Wilhelm, on the rare times he was able to visit, would tell me stories of your escapades." A faint smile. "Some of them are rather unbelievable."
"Then you know my somewhat crazy ideas can work."
"Ja. So, Colonel Hogan, what crazy idea do you have?"
Hogan had the grace to look embarrassed. "The truth is I was more concerned with getting away from here. I was planning on figuring it out after we got to the city."
A loud sigh as she sat behind the desk. "Colonel," she began.
Hogan held up his hand. "I know. Not the brightest plan. Look." He stood up and began pacing the room. "Your plans are good, better than good."
"Danke," she said, irony oozing from her voice.
A faint smile. "I'm thinking of something more low-key. Something to get the SS away from the Stage, to give him a break at least for a few hours. Maybe blow up the buildings next door."
"We need the buildings next door," she said dryly. "To carry out the rescue."
"Okay, then down the street." And held up his hand as she began to object. "I know, we need the street clear until we get away."
"And then we will blow it up."
"How about some major sabotage? One of those factories. That always attracted the SS at home."
Anna sighed. "Colonel, between the Allied bombings and our sabotage, the SS does not care anymore."
"Okay." Hogan plopped into a chair and thought a moment. "When you were telling us the plans, you didn't say anything about the personnel at the SS."
A sudden attentiveness on her face. "I apologize. We know them, but I had not acknowledged that you do not."
"Well?"
"Hamlet, that is Oberführer(1) Karl Weiss, was captured or rather betrayed by a new contact. To save his own SS men, he allowed himself to be taken by them."
"What? His men turned him in?"
"Ja, to protect his units." A twisted smile. "They were highly praised for their actions. Hamlet's arrest was immediately reported to Brigadeführer(2) Walter Schellenberg in Berlin. Schellenberg had absorbed Abwehr into his own SS intelligence organization and he personally arrested Admiral Canaris in 1944. But he is a man playing his own dangerous game. He and Himmler are trying to negotiate their own truce using the Swedish.(3)"
"You're kidding!"
"Nein. Negotiations, such as they are, have been going on for weeks." A sigh. "Unfortunately, his own plans have not inspired Schellenberg to turn a blind eye to others hoping to end this war. He sent Sturmbannführer Ulrich Haas to interrogate Hamlet. We know Haas was wounded after serving years on the Eastern Front and is one of the lucky few to return to Germany."
"Is Haas out to make a name for himself?"
"I beg your pardon, I do not . . . Oh. If I understand your meaning, Ja, he is interested in promoting himself."
"Maybe we can use that," Hogan said. There was a faint glimmer of an idea in the back of his brain.
"He has Hamlet and the Stage, both infamous Resistance leaders. Breaking them would enhance his reputation greatly."
"Yeah. Who's his boss?"
"Schellenberg."
"I mean here."
"He has none. The local head of the SS was told that Haas is the only one to interrogate Hamlet."
"I bet that made him mad."
A faint smile. "Very. He has decided he has more important things to do than stay here and watch someone else get the glory. But . . . "
That glimmer became a full-blown plan, a really, really crazy one. "What if we give Haas another chance to make a name for himself?"
Cleopatra looked at him. "What do you propose?"
"I don't know where the Americans are. Do you know which is the nearest American army?"
"The situation is very fluid. I believe it is General Hodges' First Army, or possibly General Patton's Third Army. But both are still some distance away."
"That's even better," Hogan said firmly.
"What are you thinking, Colonel Hogan?"
"What if we give Haas another chance for glory?"
Cleopatra looked at him with interest.
"How about an American deserter?"
"You are the deserter."
"Yeah. That will . . ." Cleopatra began to smile. "What's so funny?"
"Colonel Hogan, with all due respect, the Stage is far more important than an American deserter."
"Even one with the plans for an imminent American attack on Leipzig?"
"Even one with . . . " A peculiar look appeared on her face.
Hogan found himself holding his breath as an odd mix of expressions flitted over Anna's face — thoughtfulness, awareness, then a sudden hope.
Anna stood. "Come with me," she ordered, and hurried from the room.
Hogan was nearly running as he rushed to keep up with her. Back through the drawing room, the dining room, into the hall. The giant man hurriedly opened the basement door for her; Hogan nearly slipped down the stairs as he rushed after her.
"Lady, what on earth?"
Cleopatra ignored him. At the bottom of the stairs, she turned left into the near darkness at the end of the basement hallway. There was a thick door, steel-plated this time, with a combination lock on it. The dial nearly flew in her hand as she turned to the correct numbers. The door clicked open and she stepped inside.
Hogan blinked as she turned on the lights and he closed the door behind him. A utilitarian wooden desk with equally utilitarian chairs faced him. Behind the desk and on both sides were wooden filing cabinets, which she ignored. Then Hogan spotted the safe just behind the desk. Cleopatra knelt and opened the safe. She took a package from it and stood, dropping the packet on the desk.
"I will be blunt, Colonel . . . Papa Bear," she amended with a small smile. "Haas would not care about any plans for an American attack. He is not afraid of the Americans. He is, however, terrified of the Soviets. And he would be extremely interested in any plans the Soviets have for Leipzig. Like these."
Hogan stared at the package. "You forged Soviet plans for an attack on Leipzig."
"Nein. The plans are genuine. They came into my possession several weeks ago from a Soviet general who hated and feared Stalin."
"You're kidding."
"Hardly." A smile. "However, the plans are no longer valid. Stalin has no intention of letting the Americans or anyone else take Berlin, so Leipzig will be spared their terror for a time. But Haas does not know that."
"Okay, I'll accept that. But how would I have gotten the plans?"
Cleopatra sat down behind the desk and indicated the chair in front. She pushed the package toward Hogan. "American planes in danger of running out of fuel have landed in Soviet occupied areas. While their pilots have been decently treated for the most part, they are not welcomed by the Soviets and are often prisoners for propaganda purposes. You could be one of those pilots, and you can use the real Soviet general as the source of the plans. You can say he was killed." She saw Hogan start. "Nein, we helped him leave Germany. But no one knows that, so you may tell whatever story you wish. You found the plans. You did not like the Soviets, so when the general died — I will give you more information on him later — you stole a vehicle and were able to make your way here. You want to be out of the war, so you are willing to give the plans away to a high-ranking SS officer in exchange for a fake German identity or something similar. You should be able to think of something."
Hogan grinned. "Yeah, I should." He looked at the papers in his hand. "These are in Russian. I don't speak or read Russian"
"There is a German translation. Herr General was quite fluent in German and he kindly translated the plans. Haas does not speak or read Russian; nor does anyone else currently at the SS. Haas will want to find someone who does read Russian to verify that the plans are genuine, but it will take some time. And given the importance of such information, I think he will personally undertake that task. And, hopefully, he will leave the Stage in peace during that time."
Cleopatra stood and went to the filing cabinets. She pulled a thick file from one of them. "This has the information we have on current Soviet locations and possible routes for you to take to come here. Please look these over carefully. You need to be very convincing in your story." She handed Hogan the file and looked at him soberly. "Papa Bear, we know very little about Haas. We do not know what, as you would say, makes him tick. He has tortured Hamlet since his capture; he is torturing," a nearly imperceptible tremor, "the Stage. He has not shared his findings, if any, with anyone at SS headquarters. And he has not yet notified Berlin that he has the Stage. We suspect he will not do so for some time."
"That's good, isn't it? He wants it all, so he's not going to tell anyone about the American deserter either."
"Not at first. But," her tone became oddly gentle, "Haas may decide he does not want to bargain with you. He may take the plans and kill you outright. Have you thought of that?"
Hogan looked up at her, at the woman who had lost so much. He opened his mouth to say, "Of course, I have, lady," in a dismissive tone. And he shut his mouth. He dropped the files and the plans on the desk and stood, turning away from her.
Did he think of that? Truly think of that? He stared at the map of Germany on the board by the door. His eyes found Leipzig easily and Berlin and Munich and even the Hammelburg in southern Germany where a non-Luftwaffe POW camp was. Much, much bigger than his Stalag Luft 13 with only a few Americans. He'd heard a rumor that one of Patton's commanders had sent some tanks in an attempt to liberate the prisoners there.(4)
But his Stalag Luft 13 and his little village of Hammelburg northeast of Düsseldorf overlooking the Ruhr, they didn't even appear on the map. Not big enough, not important enough. Like his operation? Hogan shook his head irritably. Now, he was going to the opposite extreme. First, he thought they were the best Resistance unit in Germany. Well, they were good, but the best? Hardly. Hammelburg was a nothing little place with once important industries to be sure, at least important locally, but it didn't even rate a speck on a map of Germany. As even he had said, Papa Bear was a big fish in the little pond of Hammelburg, but they sure as heck weren't the biggest fish in Germany. They were great helping escapees and evaders who showed up in the vicinity. Even Edmondson said so, and it wasn't their fault that everyone didn't make it to safety. That responsibility lay elsewhere. But for years, he'd thought he was the best there was.
God, what gall! Yeah, they had some really important jobs and missions, but a lot of it was just being in the right place at the right time. He had gotten used to winning, despite some bad mistakes. So, for a long time, he'd thought he was unbeatable. It was deflating to discover that a major reason he'd gotten away with so much without any consequences was the fact that his back had been protected by the man he'd thought he was using.
Was that why he was here in this room? Was he still trying to prove that he was as good, as brave, as the Stage? Did he even seriously think that Haas may just kill him? An unexpected shudder shook him. And he remembered one particular incident, the one in Berlin with Major Hans Teppel AKA Robert Jared Morrison(5). Teppel had arranged a sniper hit on a man carrying a certain briefcase. The problem was, Hogan accidentally ended up carrying that briefcase. And he had panicked totally, almost mindlessly, when he realized he had become the sniper's target. It was sheer luck and bravado fueled by panic that inspired him to give the briefcase, seemingly at random, to one of the bad guys.
And now, he was thinking of setting himself up as a target deliberately. Which was what Teppel had done once, calmly talking to Hogan while aware that any second there would be a bullet coming at him from an arranged sniper hit.(6) Another shudder shook Hogan. And he remembered when he'd gotten shot just a few weeks ago.(7) That was bad enough, and it was accidental.
Did he have Teppel's courage? Or the Stage's? Or Hamlet's? Or even the courage of the woman looking at him with sober compassion?
Then he remembered what happened after they had rescued Klink from Hochstetter(8). He and his men had talked long into the night wondering if Klink would return to the camp after he had healed. And individually, each of them had to work through the realization that if they did return, if they made any mistakes at all, at best, they would be killed. At worst . . . well, they had seen the worst when they rescued Klink.
Hogan turned back to Cleopatra. "No," he said evenly. "I didn't think that Haas might just kill me rather than bargain with me. But it doesn't matter. The mission is to keep Haas away from the Stage for whatever amount of time I can"
Cleopatra nodded. "Then, Papa Bear, I accept your offer. I will send in some sandwiches and coffee while you study the plans and decide on your story."
"Good. If you'll release my men so I can go over the plans with them — "
She was shaking her head. "Nein, Papa Bear. Your men will have no part in this operation."
"What?"
"I am sorry, but your men care far too much about you. It is very obvious that while they will gladly die for you, they would not let you walk into such a deliberate trap alone. Nor will they treat you with the viciousness for which the SS is famous. Also, the garrison here is small. While they do not all know each other personally, they at least recognize each other. So, your men will be looked upon with suspicion, jeopardizing not only themselves but you as well. And to be blunt, not one of them appears to fit the physical requirements of the SS men here in Leipzig."
"But we got away with it before," he began and stopped. "Got away with it in a small area with third-rate soldiers. Now look, Cleopatra, they weren't all third-rate soldiers!"
A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "Nein, they were not. But I repeat, they will have no part in this operation."
"I don't have a choice, do I?"
"If you wish to go through with this, you do not have a choice."
"Are you going to keep them locked up?"
Her head shook. "You were correct, Papa Bear; we have ignored you and your men when we made those plans. I will remedy that. I have in mind several operations that will help our efforts here in Leipzig and will keep them from worrying unduly about you. When it is time to fully implement our rescue plans, they will be a part of it. I suspect that once they learn where you are, there will be no keeping them out of it!"
Hogan smiled in acknowledgement.
"One more point, and then I will leave you. As I have already noted, your men care more for you than any plans I may have for them. Is there a word or phrase that will show them that you have approved those plans?"
Hogan nodded and grinned. "Tell them the Snowman," he used the English word, "said to do whatever you say."
"The Snowman. I will remember." She started to open the door.
"Oh, I forgot, I'll need some dog tags and ID."
An elegant brow lifted. "Did you not bring dog tags and ID?"
"Well, yeah."
"Then, Papa Bear, your problem is solved. Colonel Robert Hogan will be the American deserter with the Russian plans."
She smiled and closed the door.
Hogan stared at door and sighed. God, I really, really hope Haas doesn't notify anybody. I'd hate to try and explain this to Edmondson. Then again, she might be telling him all about it right now!
Hogan shook his head and sat down. For this to work, he had a lot of planning of his own to do. Then he grabbed for the door and yanked it open.
"Hey!" he yelled at Cleopatra. "How am I going to get there?"
Cleopatra turned and raised a brow. "The same way other prisoners do. You will be a 'guest' of the SS."
She turned and walked away, leaving Hogan to stare at her back.
...
He was dozing fitfully when they grabbed him and pulled him off the ground. He stumbled into the rack as they thrust him toward it. Still numbed, they secured him to it. Then without warning, the pain hit. And he screamed.
Endnotes
1 There is no equivalent American rank; it's between colonel and brigadier general.
2 Brigadier General
3 John Toland: The Last 100 Days
4 The location of the fictional Stalag Luft 13 is a small town named Hammelburg (spelled Hamelburg in a couple of episodes) near Dusseldorf in North Central Germany, as has been mentioned in numerous episodes as well as the notes on scripts of HH. There were three real German Stalag 13s for POWs, none of them Luftwaffe camps. One of the real camps was in a real city named Hammelburg in southern Germany. That camp held some 4000 mainly Serbian soldiers, not airmen, and had no Americans until January 1945 when a few hundred Americans arrived from other camps. In March 1945 (from the 24th on), the real camp was the location of a failed attempt by General Patton to rescue his son-in-law John Waters who had been taken prisoner years before in North Africa. Patton went behind Eisenhower and Bradley's backs to send a small, ill-equipped force of roughly 300 men some 80 miles behind enemy lines to liberate Waters. Nine men were killed, most were taken prisoner, their tanks and equipment destroyed, and Waters was severely wounded. Patton called it one of his worst mistakes, but never admitted the real reason for the disastrous raid. The officers who did know kept it a secret until long after Patton's death. In an ironic twist of fate, the camp was liberated 4/6/45. Only 75 Americans, including Waters, were still there, the rest having been marched to other camps.
5 "A Bad Day in Berlin"
6 Mel Hughes: Dress Rehearsal
7 Act Four
8 Act Two
