Outwardly Mike appeared to be clam and detached. Inwardly was just the opposite. Anders could not believe what he had just witnessed. He thought he had seen everything, was ready for anything, could deal with anything. But this, this was just plain sick. It was taking every once of training and self control Mike had in his body to not shoot Gottfried there on the spot. Hogan's men had not been trained to have that kind of restraint. In addition they had a strong emotional attachment to their Colonel. Mike was glad Hogan's men had not seen this. Gottfried was everything Teppel had said and more.
"I will make arrangements for the body to be picked up," said Anders.
"What for?" replied Gottfried.
"Why, for an autopsy, of course," said Schell. "We have to determine why he died."
"YOU KILLED HIM WITH YOUR DRUGS!" screamed Gottfried. "You killed him before he could talk, and now you want to steal the body!"
Was this man mad, or what? Neither Anders nor Schell had expected Gottfried to battle over a dead body. Anders hated himself for what he was about to do.
"This man is of no use to you now. What good would keeping the body do? Why, this man was such a weakling he would hardly make a good trophy. Definitely not the hearty material of the master race. Look at him! One injection of a harmless sedative, and he keels over. A good German would not even have blinked. Now tell me is the body of such a man – and you can barely call him a man – worthy of one such as yourself?"
Weak American! At least the cleaning lady from the fuel depot had the decency to plead for mercy as she was dying, thought Gottfried. Lambrecht was right. This piece of scum was hardly worthy his attention and now that his prize was gone, taking his information with him. Gottfried had much more important things to think about.
Schell reluctantly followed Anders and Gottfried back to Gottfried's office. Although he knew there was nothing he could do, the physician in him wanted to stay and look after his patient. One thing about pufferfish poisoning was that once in the system, there was very little anybody could do for the patient except wait it out. The next twenty-four hours would be critical. Until then, it was up to God and the colonel whether he lived or died.
Until today, Schell had never met Hogan, but during their brief encounter Hogan had impressed Schell as being a man for whom lack of will was not a problem. While Schell had been appalled and shocked by Gottfried's treatment of a supposedly dying man, he had been equally astounded by Hogan's response, weak though it was. At that advanced stage of poisoning, Hogan should have been totally incapacitated.
The fact he had been able to make any minute voluntary movement at all was nothing short of phenomenal. Yes, the man had a very strong will, which hopefully would transform itself into a will to live. If that were indeed the case, his survival would now depend on how cooperative God felt like being.
Inside Gottfried's office Anders made a call, supposedly to arrange to have the body picked up and taken to Berlin. In reality, he was calling Kinch, who had tapped into Klink's phone line and was awaiting his call in the tunnel. Kinch in turn notified LeBeau, who was standing by with Sergeant Frank Wilson(17) and another volunteer, Corporal Walter Matthews, that it was time to move in.
As Schell and Wilson, the camp medic, had gone over Hogan's medical records the night before, Wilson had volunteered to accompany LeBeau as an ambulance attendant. Since Carter and Newkirk had been part of the earlier failed rescue attempt, Anders had decided to leave them at camp, lest someone in Gottfried's office recognize them and blow the whistle on the whole operation. It would be some time before Anders and Schell could rejoin the Stalag 13 group. Once again the physician in Schell was more at ease having Wilson on the "pick up" team. His presence would insure that Hogan would have access to some type of medical attention during the time Schell wasn't available.
Some time later, the three entered Gestapo headquarters in Cologne.
"We have come to pick up the body of the prisoner to be transported to Berlin," LeBeau announced to the guard at the desk, as he handed him a set of orders.
The guard looked at the orders, then replied, "Ein moment," as he picked up the phone. "Herr Colonel, three men are here to pick up the body of a prisoner they claim is to be taken to Berlin. All the paper work seems to be in order."
A pause.
"Jawohl, mein colonel."
"This way," said the guard as he led them down a hall into an unlocked cell.
It struck LeBeau as a little odd the cell would be unlocked and then he remembered, the colonel was supposed to be dead. Dead men have no need for locks. They can only go where they are taken.
Inside the cell, the colonel lay motionless on the cot just as Schell had left him — arms to his side, eyes closed. His dark hair was matted. Black face paint combined with sweat caked his face, which was covered by two days worth of stubble. There was dried blood on his cheek. Filthy Boche! What had they done to him?
Tears welled in LeBeau's eyes. He couldn't cry now. Later perhaps, but not now. Now he had to get the colonel out of this awful place, get him back to camp where people cared about him, where they could take care of him until he was better.
Matthews and Wilson carefully picked up the inert form and placed it on the stretcher. Gee, he was cold! Had something gone wrong? Had the colonel really died? They covered Hogan with a sheet, then carried him out to the ambulance and secured him in. Wilson and LeBeau got in the back with Hogan, and Matthews drove off.
Once inside Wilson took the sheet off and began taking vital signs. Little, if any, pulse. He had expected that. Very faint heart beat, and nearly imperceptible respiration.
"How is he?" LeBeau asked anxiously.
"He's alive." So far.
LeBeau leaned over and whispered into Hogan's ear, "Don't worry, mon colonel, you are going to be all right. We are going to take you back to camp. A very good doctor is going to meet us there. He will take good care of you. We will all take good care of you. Don't you worry about a thing. You will be up and about in no time. You'll see."
As the truck sped away toward Stalag 13, LeBeau prayed he had not lied to the colonel.
(17) Operation Briefcase