No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.
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Schultz's brother! Hogan thought, as he pushed his way through the underbrush and ducked out of sight of a spotlight from the guard tower at Stalag 13 as it swept past. And this is the second time you've nearly walked right into him. He's going to have to start wearing a bell!
Dropping down into the tunnel that opened below the tree stump, Hogan latched the opening and then took another moment to collect himself. Things were moving so fast he'd hardly had time to keep up. First, London asks for sabotage; then, we need to get an Underground contact out of Germany—with a connection to a Stalag 13 prison guard thrown in just to make it more interesting! Hogan paused and leaned against the tunnel wall, rubbing his forehead as an unexpected wave of dizziness hit him. His whole face throbbed. Oh yeah, he thought acerbically, and don't forget to add the Gestapo to the mix. Maybe if I keep my eyes closed for awhile, when I open them this week will have gone away.
He stayed there, motionless for a moment, tiredly focusing only on the soreness of his face and body, feeling the cold dampness around him, watching his thoughts chase each other around his brain. And in the midst of it all, somehow thinking of his family home, and his old room that his mother kept just so for his visits home, and how warm and inviting it all seemed right now. What he wouldn't give to just sink into that mattress, worn to all the curves of his body, with those knitted afghans piled high, and those two big, soft pillows waiting to soothe his aching head and caress him into slumber and oblivion. Home…
A ripple in his side jerked Hogan back to a dark, dank reality. With a sigh, he pulled himself away from the wall, then made his way back down the tunnel, using the light from the oil lamps strung along the wall as a guide. When he reached the radio area, he paused and listened. Then, hearing nothing, he placed his cold, hurting hands on the ladder and hauled himself upwards, tapped twice, then paused and tapped once more. His signal answered, the rest of the ladder descended as the bunk rose up to accept him back into the barracks. Kinch's hand was extended, waiting to help pull him in.
Kinch waited until Hogan was fully in the room before he asked, "So what's happening, Colonel?"
Hogan turned and tapped the side of the bunk to reset the room. "Plenty," he said, heading for the stove. He took the cup already full of coffee that Le Beau had waiting, and shivered. "We have to get one of our contacts out. His wife's been being followed; they think the Gestapo's on to them."
Newkirk stepped forward. "That doesn't seem too hard, sir. I mean we've done it dozens of time already."
Hogan nodded, then said, "Yeah, now add this in to the equation: he happens to be the brother of none other than our friendly neighborhood prison guard, Sergeant Hans Schultz." Hogan waited until the exclamations of surprise died down, then said, "I nearly had another encounter with him tonight. With the amount of time he spends away from camp, the prisoners should be walking out the front gate!"
"You mean he showed up again?" Newkirk asked.
"Apparently, he often stops at his brother's house on his way back here. And if the Gestapo is already following Ludwig and Alida, we're going to have to proceed with even greater care." Hogan turned to Kinch. "Anything from London, Kinch?"
Kinch paused, knowing the answer he had wasn't the one Hogan wanted. "Not yet, Colonel."
Hogan sighed and put down his cup. "Well, that does it for the night. I'm beat. I'll see you fellas in the morning." The men bade Hogan good night, and he disappeared into his room. But though he was tired, his mind refused to lay the problem to rest, and it was an hour before he left the present behind, and dreamed about his past.
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"You've been avoiding me, Kommandant," Hogan said to Klink the next day.
Klink snorted and sat down at his desk. "Why would I do that, Colonel Hogan?" he asked.
"I don't know, but I get the distinct impression that mine is not the face you want to see. You've refused my requests to see you for the last two days. Now, you know that isn't very nice. And there's no other way for me to get the needs of my men met."
"I'll grant you that, Hogan; I would much rather be seeing fraulein Helga's face than yours." And hers doesn't remind me of Feldkamp and my inability to stop him from turning you into a punching bag. Klink nearly winced visibly as he took in the cuts and bruises on Hogan's face that he knew must still be causing him discomfort. And what about what I can't see?
"So why graciously grant me an audience today?"
"Because I am curious, Hogan. I want to know why Colonel Feldkamp thinks you are involved in the escapes from the surrounding prison camps."
Hogan shrugged. "You've got me, Kommandant. I mean, we can't escape from Stalag 13; I don't know what makes him think we can help anyone else escape from any other Stalags."
Klink nodded. "It does seem ridiculous," he admitted, with a touch of vanity. "After all, I have my prisoners cowed and willing to do whatever I ask. And if no one can get out of camp, then certainly no one can get in." Klink paused. "And once they were in, they certainly wouldn't be able to get back out."
Hogan closed his eyes. This was going to be a long day. "Right," he said. Then, changing tactics, he said, "Now, Kommandant, I've wanted to see you because the men are complaining about the cold, sir—"
"And you would like me to move the sun a little bit closer to Germany, Hogan?" Klink retorted, reminders of his fine record making him cocky and unwilling to listen.
Hogan grimaced. "I don't think even Hitler could manage that one." He sighed. "They need more firewood. The stoves just aren't doing enough. And if you could manage some gloves or something for them to wrap their hands in, that would be greatly appreciated." I know I'd appreciate it… every time I head out of camp!
"It is up to the prisoners' families and the Red Cross to provide them with warm clothing. The little we have is distributed amongst the German soldiers, Hogan."
"The Geneva Convention says otherwise."
"We don't have enough to give, Colonel Hogan! I assure you, if we did, you and your men would have it."
"Then what about the firewood?"
"We only have so much."
"This place is surrounded by woods—the men would be willing to go on a work detail to cut some trees down and make some logs for the stoves, Kommandant."
Klink shook his head. "That would be like putting guns in your hands, Hogan—or opening up the front gate for you to walk out of here."
"It's your responsibility, Kommandant." Hogan leaned in on Klink's desk. "If the men get too cold, they get sick. If they get sick, they clog up the infirmary. If they clog up the infirmary, you have to ask for medical supplies. If you have to ask for medical supplies, Berlin will start to ask questions. If Berlin starts to ask questions, you'll find yourself on a train heading to Stalingrad to answer them."
Klink had followed Hogan's train of thought, and he didn't like the station it was stopping at. "Stalingrad?"
"Choo, choo," Hogan said, deadpan. He paused. Klink cringed. Hogan whispered near his ear. "Don't rock the boat, Kommandant. Firewood."
Klink nodded. "Firewood." Hogan stood up. Klink suddenly came back to life, and waved a finger at Hogan accusingly. "But you will be guarded, Colonel Hogan! And if you or your men put so much as a toe out of line, you will be punished severely!"
Hogan nodded. "You can count on us, sir."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Klink muttered, as he watched Hogan shut the door behind him.
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"That ought to do for awhile, fellas; let's head back to camp." Hogan praised the men on the work detail cutting down trees just outside the fence line, carefully supervising the outing to make sure that no one cleared the area near the emergency tunnel exit or the road that they needed to use when going to and from the camp. He watched with some satisfaction as the dozen or so men now carrying the wood puffed along, happy being warm for awhile in the thin sun of the German winter day, and happy about getting more fuel for the meager fires in the stoves of their barracks.
"Colonel Hogan," muttered Schultz, walking along beside the American, his rifle perched carelessly over his shoulder, "I have a problem."
Hogan raised an eyebrow. "Women trouble, Schultz? The boys told me you've been getting out a lot lately. Won't your wife have anything to say about that?"
Schultz kept walking. "No, no, no! I wish it were that simple. My wife, she is cranky no matter what I do. She does not want me to come home unless I have a good reason. As long as I send my pay home for die Kinder, she is not worried."
Hogan dropped his smile and looked at Schultz. "Sorry, Schultz, I didn't realize."
Schultz shrugged. "Ach, it suits us both, I think, in this time of war, Colonel Hogan. As a soldier, I never know if I'm going to make it home at all."
Hogan nodded, understanding. He'd always thought he'd get home easily, too. At least he had convinced himself he would. Now, he was far from sure. "It's not easy," he agreed.
"You have a sweetheart back home?" Schultz asked.
"Used to, Schultz. Used to. When I joined the war, she decided she couldn't wait. I tried to get her to hold on, but we argued, and in the end I lost." Hogan shrugged, suddenly feeling awkward. "It wasn't like I had any choice."
Schultz nodded regretfully. "Krieg ist Hölle." Schultz studied Hogan for a moment, causing the American to stop in his tracks. "You would make a fine husband, Colonel Hogan, to some woman out there."
Hogan snorted, trying to ignore the anguish this conversation was stirring in him. "I'll worry about that later; there are too many lovely things to concentrate on right here at Stalag 13." Eager to steer the conversation away from himself, Hogan said, "So, what's your problem, Schultz? The wife leaning on you?"
"No, Colonel Hogan. It is my brother."
"Your brother?" Hogan asked, instantly putting aside his own troubled thoughts.
"Ja, Ludwig. I went to visit him last night, on the way home from Hammelburg."
Don't I know it! Hogan thought to himself. "What's the trouble?"
"Colonel Hogan, I don't know how to explain it, but I think he is keeping something from me."
"Keeping something?"
Schultz scrunched up his face, thinking. "He said all the same things he always does, but I think he is not the same man he was a few months ago. There is something going on that he does not want me to know."
Hogan paused. It wouldn't do to have Schultz snooping around. Not now! "What do you think it is, Schultz?"
"I don't know. I wonder if it is maybe money. Or problems with his wife, Alida. She is a wonderful woman, Colonel Hogan, but she misses their daughter and keeps talking of her. They sent her to England a few years ago; they were worried about her being in Germany under Hitler." Schultz sighed. "They were right."
Hogan patted Schultz's arm in a gesture of friendship. He had always liked Schultz; from the very day Hogan had arrived at Stalag 13, Schultz had looked after him in an almost paternal way. He had followed Hogan from building to building, forced him against his will to get needed medical attention, showed him the ropes about life inside a Luftwaffe prison camp, and even showed relief when Hogan showed up after his abortive escape attempt, relatively unscathed. Now, seeing the big man upset about something that could never be explained to him, Hogan felt compassion, and tried to find a way to return the gestures. "War changes people, Schultz," Hogan said carefully. "Maybe Ludwig's just trying to cope with everything. He'd be worried about you, seeing you go back and forth from town, knowing you're on active duty. Sometimes it might just get too much for him, and he doesn't want you to know."
Schultz considered this. "You think so?"
"Sure," Hogan replied. It was a truth of war, he thought. Along with a few other things about them that I can't tell you about. "He wouldn't want you thinking that he's worried about you all the time. As a brother, you'd never let him live it down!"
Schultz chuckled. "Perhaps you are right, ja. You have a brother, Colonel Hogan?"
"Yeah. And a sister. And they're even worse about sibling rivalry."
Schultz laughed out loud. "Well, at least you don't have to worry about that here."
Hogan smiled as the front gate to the camp was closed and locked behind them. "No… just about the thousand other men who are competing with me for fraulein Helga's attention. Somehow I think my sister would at least be able to give me a hand with that!"
"Ja, but then you would have to protect her from the thousand other men here!"
The pair laughed loudly together. Hogan felt lighter inside than he had in weeks, and, satisfied that he had both looked after Ludwig and reassured the kindly guard, he caught up with his men and helped carry the firewood to the huts.
