A/N: This chapter contains material that might be difficult for some readers.
Hogan led Olsen into his office sitting him down on his lower bunk, after he recovered enough to follow simple commands. He then pulled a chair from his desk over sitting in front of his Sergeant who was still shaking from the encounter of a cricket landing on his bed. "Take some deep breaths, in through your nose out through your mouth." Olsen had difficulty following the orders at first, but finally able to comply calming his rapid breathing down with coaching from his commander.
"I'm all right now, sir. I'm so sorry. I…I don't know why that happened," the Sergeant said, clearly embarrassed with a tinge of red showing on his checks.
"No need to apologize. But it's time we go over what happened Tuesday." Olsen immediately looked panicked. Hogan placed a hand on his knee giving him a gentle smile. "We'll do it together and slowly. Think back to that morning, what do you remember? What did you do?"
"A normal morning, Schultz bellowed for us to come out for roll call. We stood outside forever waiting on Klink, finally came back inside, and ate. After breakfast, I got ready for my mission," Olsen answered, swallowing hard dreading this talk.
"When you got up from the table, what did you do next?"
"Put my dish in the sink."
"Then what?"
"I topped off my coffee, and got my shaving kit," Olsen started to calm down some, his embarrassment fading.
Hogan blinked having to remember what that Southern colloquial meant. "Good, you freshened your cup of coffee, then shaved and combed your hair. What did you do next?" He asked sitting back watching his Sergeant closely.
"I changed into the German civilian clothes, storing my uniform in my footlocker. Next, I left camp," Olsen said looking down at his right hand as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
"How did you leave camp?" Hogan needed to keep him in the details and not rush through; positive this would be one of the roughest debriefings of both of their lives. However painful, they had to complete it before Olsen shutdown again.
"I went up through the dog pen. Newkirk distracted Schultz while I got in Oscar's truck, which was full of dogs. I climbed into the back of it and Bruno came to lick my face. A lot of the guys are fond of Heidi, but Bruno is my favorite of the guard dogs," Olsen smiled, a happy smile.
"Why?" Hogan asked, hoping the memory would help.
"He reminds me of a dog I had growing up, Max. Bruno always comes directly to me and puts his head under my hand so he can be petted as Max would always do. Max curled up in bed with me at night; he started at the foot of my bed but before long, he'd be taking over my pillow. I didn't mind, I'd throw an arm around him and use him as a pillow. Ma would always complain that my sheets had dog hair on them. Told her they couldn't because Max slept on the floor. Wasn't until I was older, that I realized they probably saw Max and I curled up asleep together. But we both pretended that Max didn't get on the bed. In the truck, Bruno lay down on my leg snuggling up against me looking up with his trusting eyes. They have a lot of the same personality traits. He's a neat dog," Olsen had calmed down considerably.
Hogan stored that information for later reference. Maybe Bruno needed to come back to camp for a while. "Once you left camp, what happened next?"
"About half a mile outside of camp just past the bend, the truck stopped and I got out. I gave Bruno one last scratch behind the ears, then shook Oscar's hand. We made our rendezvous plans for the trip back inside the camp. Afterwards, I took off in the opposite direction from which Oscar drove the truck," he hesitated not wanting to continue.
"All right, you're on the road. Did you see anyone? Were there any unusual noises?"
"No. No one around nor were any other vehicles. I kept an eye out for guards but none were in the area, so I starting walking towards town." He suddenly stopped making a funny face.
"What is it?" Hogan's left eyebrow went up.
"The shoes I was wearing; the right one needed the sole replaced. I could feel the pebbles on my foot, thought it might rub a blister."
"That's good intel. We'll have it replaced before those shoes are worn again. You're doing great. What happened next?"
"A light hit me."
"Where did the light come from?"
"I'm not sure, but it was bright, really bright, and disorienting."
"Like a flashlight?"
"No, brighter."
"Headlights?"
"No, more like a searchlight, but I'm not certain where it was coming from," Olsen closed his eyes trying to determine where the light originated. He put his right hand up as if trying to block the light out of his eyes.
"Do you hear any noise? An engine perhaps?"
"No, nothing. Everything went dark," Olsen visibly trembled, his voice shaky.
"Breathe… breathe…breathe…"
Olsen woke up strapped down to a metal table unsure how he'd gotten in the predicament. He struggled to get up, but couldn't move with two straps across his chest, one pinning his shoulders down, the other on his abdomen. Both arms held tightly at the wrists, and double straps covering his legs. "Hallo," he called out in German. No one answered him. Above him was a light, like in an operating room; however, the surrounding room was dark. The light didn't blind him, but did prevent him from seeing farther than a few feet. "Great Brian, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" he mumbled quietly.
"Were there any sounds?"
He listened but the only sounds were of machinery. What type, he couldn't tell. Suddenly he heard a cricket, or something which sounded like a cricket. Then another, and a third, but the cricket sounds weren't what one would consider normal. Instead, the sounds seemed as if the crickets were speaking to each other. There were pauses in the noise, and the structure was similar to sentences. His brain couldn't make sense of the noises. "Hello," he called out again and a light turned on in the distance. He could tell he was in what appeared to be a hospital with medical equipment lining the walls making the machinery noise. But he wasn't hurt, so why would he be here? "I think there's been a mistake."
He didn't know which was more terrifying, being held in the dark, or the three figures approaching him. "I'm not sure what's going on here, but I think I should leave now." No one spoke to him; the sounds of the cricket noises continued as they 'spoke' to each other becoming louder as the men approached him.
Hogan had a hand on both of Olsen's shoulders shaking him bringing him back to the present. "Calm your breathing down, you are okay. You're safe. You're in the barracks."
Olsen finally looked at him, full panic on his face. "Col…Colonel…I…I don't think I can do this."
"Yes you can," Hogan said with a reassuring smile. Although he didn't want to cause Olsen any more pain, they needed the intel. Plus, he feared if they stopped now, Olsen would sink back into the hole which he was just beginning to climb out. Despite the terror Olsen was feeling, Hogan knew there was only one way, and that was to go through the entire painful story now, similar to ripping a bandage off in one yank. "You're not alone. We'll do it together." Olsen nodded his head, obviously still terrified. "What did they look like?"
The figures came closer, dressed in white lab coats, tall, and wearing some type of mask, similar to a gas mask, only the masks were silver, not the normal green or black he was used to seeing. He couldn't see their face due to the masks. They walked around him, making that incessant cricket noise. Two stopped on his left and the third on his right. The one obviously in charge pointed to the one on the right and to Olsen's arm. The other jabbed a needle harshly into Olsen's arm drawing blood. "Hey! What's going on? What are you doing? Why am I tied down? Where is this place? Let me go!" They didn't respond. The blood vampire took the vial over to a bench with a strange looking device on it, and placed Olsen's blood in the machine. He flipped a switch causing the machine to hum. A vat similar to a medium size fish tank, started filling with a blue fluid next to the blood machine. Another man moved something circular onto Olsen's left arm an inch or so below the elbow. The device was cold, metallic, and tight cutting off his circulation. "Get it off! Who are you?" He struggled but to no avail. His captors didn't speak a word to him increasing his anxiety to a level he'd never experienced before.
"Colonel, I can't...can't," tears poured out of Olsen's eyes as he began to hyperventilate.
"Brian, you survived. I know it's hard to remember, but I need to know exactly what happened," Hogan sat next to him on the bunk putting an arm around the younger man's trembling shoulders. "Calm your breathing down. Deep breaths…you're doing fine. What happened next?"
The third man walked over to a cabinet then returned to Olsen's left side with large medical instrument he could only identify as a saw. He pressed a button causing the saw to circulate, and placed it against Olsen's skin below the elbow, with force pushed it through the arm severing the limb. Olsen screamed in pain while blood poured out of the severed appendage shooting across the room, each beat of his heart making the blood pulse faster out of what was left of his arm. The man who removed his arm undid the wrist strap, picked up the amputated limb, and carried it to the table a few feet away, placing it in the vat containing the blue solution. His arm floated mid-way down the vat stabilizing in the middle of the container. One of the others placed a white cloth over the remaining portion of his left arm tightening the metal strip stopping the bleeding, but it didn't do anything for the pain. The pain was unbearable with screaming his only release. The man who placed the tourniquet on his arm continued to make adjustments until the blood loss stopped. "Why? What did you do this for? How could you? Tell me why?" Olsen screamed every curse word he knew in three languages at them, only to receive no answers. His head began to feel woozy and mercifully, he passed out from the pain, shock, and loss of blood.
Olsen stood up, moving away from the Colonel, pacing through the small room, emotional and physical distress evident. He stopped bumping his leg into the footlocker below the window. Then he turned back facing his commander, his right hand moved to hold his left elbow, bile rising up in his throat at the touch, he took deep breaths trying to force it down while shaking uncontrollably. Hogan immediate stood, grabbing Olsen, lowering him to the floor before his wobbly legs gave out on him. With a trembling voice, he turned his face towards Hogan. "Colonel, they…they cut my arm off with no more thought than slicing through a loaf of bread!"