Chapter 8---The Faux Hogan
Kinch climbed back up the ladder and stepped over the bedframe and into the barracks. He slapped the bedframe and allowed the lower bunk to drop before he sat back down. Closing the door of the barracks, Newkirk rejoined them.
"Well, mate," he said, lighting a cigarette. "When's London sending the straight jacket for you?"
Kinch shook Newkirk's shoulder, a huge smile on his face. "Since you asked, Newkirk, you and LeBeau will go out tonight and bring our Colonel Hogan through the emergency tunnel. London's sending a plane about 2300 hours tonight. Our boy will parachute out."
Newkirk and LeBeau looked in amazement at each other. Then Newkirk, still amazed, looked back at Kinch. "Wait a minute. Are you tellin' us London's got a ruddy twin for the Gov'nor?"
"Ummm-hmmm," said Kinch, still smiling. "He's a British actor named Noel Jackman. Has been with the RAF for about 4 years as a Lieutenant. London says he can do the job. In fact, they said the moment we reported Hogan missing, they had contacted Jackman about possibly impersonating Colonel Hogan by having him listen to the Colonel's voice and practicing his mannerisms, facial expressions, the works. Says this guy must've spoke with everybody over there who knows the Colonel."
"But we'll know he's not the Colonel," said LeBeau defiantely. "There is only one Colonel Hogan and I don't care what anyone says, I don't believe some actor can impersonate mon Colonel."
"I agree with LeBeau on that one, Kinch," Newkirk admitted. "Impersonating the Colonel is one thing. Making it believable enough to fool Klink, Schultz and anybody else is another. And frankly...." he took a drag on his cigarette. "....I think London's out of their bleedin' minds."
"Kinch, how are we suppose to act around this Lieutenant Jackman?"
Kinch shrugged his shoulders. "You treat him as if he's Colonel Hogan. That'll make Klink and Schultz believe it as well."
"And what if we can't treat him like he's Colonel Hogan?" asked Newkirk.
"The only other recourse then is to tell Klink that the Colonel's escaped. And you know what'll happen then? Klink's perfect record goes out the window and maybe he goes to the Russian front. We end up with a new Kommandant who refuses to be housebroken. Our entire operation could go down the drain. Is that what you all want to have happen?"
"Of course not, mon ami," LeBeau remarked. "All I'm saying is it's going to be hard to act like this person's our Colonel when in our hearts we know he isn't. Is that so hard to understand?"
"No. But understand this," Kinch replied, eyes narrowed, face turning serious. "The real Colonel Hogan's life might depend on us pulling this off. If he's alive but being held by someone, and they discover that the Luftwaffe and the Gestapo are conducting an all-out search for an escaped prisoner by the name of Colonel Robert Hogan, they just might decide keeping him alive is too risky and kill him. Now is that what you want?" Kinch looked around at each man. Nobody said anything. "I didn't think so. So the moment this guy steps inside this barracks, he is Colonel Robert Hogan to us and to anybody else to whom it matters. Got it?"
"Got it," said Newkirk putting out his cigarette.
"Oui," LeBeau remarked.
"Whatever you say, Kinch," Carter agreed.
Kinch then turned to Darrell. "You'll leave with Newkirk and LeBeau. Got it?"
"No problem. Please let me say it's been an interesting three days."
Hogan struggled against his restraints but found it useless. There was just no way to free himself of the handcuffs and shackles. It was at this moment he wished he had Newkirk's lockpick. What he wouldn't give right now to have Newkirk here with the lockpick. He sighed. Hogan noticed that Ilse hadn't been back since the kiss. He wondered where she was. He suddenly heard the door open and, looking around, saw four men walking down the stairs. One of them he recognized as having seen with Ilse the first time they met. He assumed he must be her husband Hans. Hogan estimated there must've been 12 years difference between Hans and Ilse. The others he had never seen.
Hans, approaching Hogan, reached out and with one swift motion, ripped the duct tape from Hogan's mouth causing some mild discomfort to the Colonel.
"Colonel Hogan, I'm sure you remember me. I'm Hans Bormann. You met my wife and I earlier. However, I thought it only common courtesy to introduce some of the people who will be judging your fate at your trial. I want you to meet Malcolm Decker and Horace Belgium. They are responsible for bringing you here from the power plant the other night."
"Remind me to thank you for that. And for the headache," Hogan sneered.
Decker and Belgium could only smile evilly at the prisoner.
"I also want to introduce Wilhelm Klauss. I believe you two know each other, Colonel."
Hogan's eyes narrowed as he studied Klauss's face. "You do look somewhat familiar to me," he said.
"Indeed I should, Colonel Hogan," Klauss replied with a grin. "You might remember my twin brother, Hans Klauss, a Major with the Gestapo." The grin suddenly vanished. "He died two years ago when you and your men blew up a 'munitions train. I have been waiting for over two years to see you brought to justice."
"Well, you know what they say," Hogan gave his best lopsided grin. "Good things happen to those who wait."
Klauss backhanded Hogan across the face with such force, it nearly brought tears to the Colonel's eyes. Shaking his head hoping to clear the cobwebs, Hogan found himself staring at Klauss.
"I should kill you right now, right here," Klauss said coldly. "But you have't had your trial yet. Even scum like you are entitled to a trial."
Hogan bit his tongue. If he was going to somehow get out of this mess, he knew he could not afford to endure the wrath of any of these maniacs.
"When do the festivities begin?" he asked.
"Fortunately for you, Colonel Hogan," Bormann said smugly. "There is a delay in your trial beginning. We are missing the last member of our unit. His name is Fritz Schultz. He had to go out of town for a few days to visit his cousin. Perhaps you know his cousin?"
All Hogan knew was that the final member of this team had the same name as Klink's Sergeant-at-arms. He chuckled. "No. But I suppose you're gonna tell me anyway."
Now it was time for Bormann to chuckle. "I don't see the harm in telling you. Fritz has gone into Hammelburg to visit his cousin Hans. You might know him better as Sergeant Hans Schultz, a prison guard at Stalag 13."
For the first time he could remember, Hogan was speechless. He only faintly remembered Schultz telling him about some of his family members during one of their late night poker games while Schultz was suppose to be on duty.
Chuckling even more, Bormann replaced the duct tape back over Hogan's mouth and motioned to the others to follow him back upstairs. Hogan watched them go and heard the door close. Shaking his head, he wondered if Schultz knew what his cousin was involved in. Probably not. Hogan knew only one thing right now. The key to possibly getting out of here alive lay with Ilse Bormann. But as long as she avoided him, he couldn't work on her. Think, Hogan, think! You have to find a way to get her down here! Then, Hogan smiled behind the duct tape as an idea came to him.
Newkirk and LeBeau, both wearing black pants, turtlenecks, wool caps, and had black oil smeared on their faces, were crouched behind some bushes where they had a good view of a dirt road. Newkirk, using a pair of binoculars, spotted the plane overhead.
"There's the plane, Louie," he said. "One white. Two red. One blue. That's the signal. Give him the response."
Removing a flashlight from his shoulder pouch, LeBeau flashed the response. Newkirk saw someone leave the plane and a parachute open. Watching, Newkirk followed the parachute all the way down.
"C'mon, LeBeau," he whispered, moving forward in the direction of where the person had landed.
"Look-alike indeed," LeBeau muttered. "I bet he looks nothing like the Colonel."
"Yeah. Well, we'll find out soon enough now, won't we. Now quit your grippin' and c'mon."
Hurrying forward, Newkirk and LeBeau soon found themselves in a small clearing and noticed a man dressed in black, folding his parachute. Hearing someone approach from behind him, the man suddenly whirled around and stared at the two. There was a pistol in his hand pointed at them.
"Sacre chats," LeBeau muttered, staring in disbelief.
"Blimey," said Newkirk, equally disbelieving. "Are you Noel, I mean Lieutenant Jackman?"
"And who the bloody hell are you blokes? You're not Germans."
"No, sir. I'm Corporal Peter Newkirk, RAF. This is Corporal Louie LeBeau. He's French."
"Jolly good. I say, are you men from Hogan's team?"
"Yes, sir." Newkirk continued to stare.
In the moonlight,even without the leather bomber jacket and crush cap, Newkirk and LeBeau believed they were looking at Colonel Hogan's twin.
