Chapter 11

After evening roll call, Kinch and LeBeau retreated to the tunnels below to check on Carter and Newkirk as they finished dressing in SS officer uniforms. Newkirk, dressed as an SS Major, was checking his gray hair, matching mustache and glasses in the mirror while Carter, already in the uniform of an SS Lieutenant, was busy applying the finishing touches to the blond hair-coloring that would match his blond mustache when LeBeau and Kinch approached.

Turning, Newkirk and Carter looked at the two men. "Well, how do we look, mate?" he asked.

"If I had a gun and saw both of you, I'd shoot," the Frenchman joked.

"Bloody charming," Newkirk replied with a roll of his eyes. "Hey Kinch, who's sitting with the Gov'nor?"

"Wilson. The Colonel's still angry but he's sleeping right now. Hopefully he won't awaken before both you of get back. I'd hate to have to explain to him where you and Carter went."

Carter looked up. "I'd hate to be on the receiving end after he finds out where Newkirk and I went. Boy, if you thought he was mad before…"

"We get the idea, Carter," Newkirk interrupted. "Not need to paint a bleedin' picture for us."

"Sorry," Carter apologized.

"Okay," Kinch said earnestly. "Just remember. This is a reconnaissance mission only. If Weidman is there don't hang around. If he isn't, find out what you can. We need to find a way to get him alone so we can grab him. The truck is waiting in the woods for you. Just remember, when you get back make sure to set the odometer back to where it is now."

Newkirk glanced back at Carter who nodded that he was ready. "Gotcha, mate." He then looked at Carter and in his best German voice said "Achtung! We will be late lieutenant. Let us leave now!"

"Jawohl, Herr Major," Carter replied.

"Good luck, mes amis," LeBeau said as the two men walked out of the changing room to the ladder leading to the emergency tunnel.

In the Hofbrau, Hans, Fritz and Henrik sat around a table drinking beer and talking about the events of earlier in the day.

"So our man is an American Army Colonel," Hans said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He looked at Henrik. "So what happens now?"

Henrik took a drink of beer and wiped his mouth. "Nothing's changed. We must get him out of that camp and silence him permanently. I don't want to take any chances he might still talk."

"What about finding out how he got back into the camp after he got out?" asked Fritz. "Shouldn't we find out first how he did it without being found out before we kill him? Having that kind of information could prove useful to our careers, especially if that knowledge leads to something bigger. Like perhaps an entire sabotage operation of some kind. I've heard there's been a lot of underground activity in that area and the Gestapo hasn't been able to prove anything. This Colonel Hogan could be a key of some kind."

Henrik scratched his chin. "I must admit, Fritz, it would be interesting to uncover just how he gets in and out of Stalag 13 without being caught. And it could result in a medal for each of us."

"So how do we find out for sure?" asked Hans.

"Whatever we do, we must be careful. I have one brother in the Wehrmacht and another in the Gestapo. I could have the one in the Gestapo go into Stalag 13 undercover and pull this Colonel Hogan out on the premise that he is being brought in for questioning. Herman could then turn him over to me. He need not know the reason why."

"Would he do it if you asked him?" asked Hans.

Henrik shrugged. "I don't know. He's on leave right now and won't be back for another three days. It could be risky waiting that long." He took another drink of beer and again wiped his mouth. "There could be another way."

Hans and Fritz looked at each other briefly before turning their attention back to Henrik.

"You have an idea, Henrik?" asked Fritz eagerly.

"Perhaps. Prisoner-of-war camps often send prisoners out to do repair work on roads or cut down trees for firewood. And whenever the prisoners do that, they usually go out under guard from the camp, and the Senior POW officer goes with them sort of to keep an eye on his men so to speak."

"So?" asked Fritz. "How does that help us?"

Henrik smirked. "This Colonel Hogan would go out with his men. If we could find out when and where, we could show up and arrest him claiming he is under arrest for suspicion of sabotage activities. The guards wouldn't dare interfere with the SS."

"But what about that negro sergeant we met who was the Acting Senior POW? Suppose he goes out with the men instead?"

"You mean Sergeant Kinchloe, I think his name was. No problem. If that should happen, we will simply return to Stalag 13 instead as we did this morning and arrest him there using the same premise. By the time Sergeant Kinchloe returns, we'll be long gone with Colonel Hogan. And after we kill him, we'll simply tell the Kommandant Colonel Hogan was shot while trying to escape. He won't argue and nobody will ever know except possibly Sergeant Kinchloe. But he can be dealt with also. After all, Colonel Hogan couldn't have acted alone now could he?"

"We're going to have fun with a negro, Henrik?" Hans asked with a look of distaste on his face.

"Never! No. Him we would simply execute. But Colonel Hogan is another matter." Henrik grinned. The others saw his grin and smiled themselves as they knew what Henrik was thinking.

"What have you got in mind?" asked Fritz excitedly.

"Once we get Colonel Hogan, we will take him someplace where we cannot be interrupted and he will never be found. Then, we will keep him restrained and have plenty of fun with him as often as we want even if we have to use some imagination while we interrogate him to find out how he gets out of camp. And it won't matter how long we need to obtain that information because in the end, he will either beg us to kill him, or we'll just kill him anyway to keep him quiet even if he tells us nothing."

The three guards raised their glasses and clinked them together to celebrate. After they all took a big swig of beer, Henrik checked his watch. "Fritz, call headquarters and tell them we will be in an hour late tomorrow."

"Why are we going to be late in the morning?" asked Hans.

"Because we have plans to make for grabbing Colonel Hogan."

After parking the truck outside SS headquarters, Carter and Newkirk got out. (1)They hesitated and looked at the ominous-looking building with it's two guards posted outside.

Newkirk pretended to scratch his chin. "Ready Carter?" he said in very low voice.

"Whenever you are," was the reply.

"Then let's go." Newkirk and Carter then walked up the steps and inside the building. The place looked just as ominous inside as it did outside with it's dreary gray walls. It reminded Newkirk of a jail he was in once during his wild days as a teen in London after he'd been caught picking the pocket of a businessman who happened to move as he'd been lifting his wallet. Actually, Newkirk thought, the jail looked better. He and Carter walked up to the desk at the middle of the hall where a sergeant sat apparently working on paperwork. They walked up to the desk and noticed the sergeant look up as their footsteps getting closer. He saluted immediately.

"Guten Abend, gentlemen. May I be of assistance?"

"Guten Abend, Sergeant," Newkirk replied in his best German authoritative voice. "I am Major Hindman and this is my aide, Lieutenant Eichmann."

"Guten Abend," Carter said with a smile.

"We are from SS headquarters in Berlin. We are looking for a Sergeant Weidman. Is he here by any chance?" asked Newkirk.

"Nein, Herr Major. He left about an hour ago. Perhaps I can help you in some way?"

"Nein, Sergeant…."

"Decker, sir."

"That is all right, Sergeant Decker. We can come back in the morning and see him. But tell us, Sergeant, what is that Sergeant Weidman like."

"What is he like, Herr Major?"

"Ja. We want to make sure we have the right Sergeant Weidman. It concerns an SS Colonel. What is his name Lieutenant?"

Carter removed his notebook and opening it, flipped through two or three pages. Weidman, Herr Major. Colonel Baer Weidman."

Sergeant Decker's eyes widened. "Jawohl, that is Fritz's brother. He has been missing in action at the Russian front."

Carter looked at Newkirk. "Then I guess we have the right man, Herr Major."

"It would seem so, Lieutenant. We wanted to see him this evening. We have wonderful news for him and …" He was interrupted by the ringing of the phone on Decker's desk. The Sergeant picked up the receiver. "Excuse me for a moment, bitte."

"Guten Abend. Gestapo headquarters. Sergeant Decker." A smile broke out on his face. "Fritz, I'm glad you called. There are two men here from Berlin."

Newkirk and Carter looked nervously at each other. But before Newkirk could tell Sergeant Decker not to mention anything about their visit, it was too late.

"They have news about your brother Baer. You'll be here within the hour? Excellent. I see. You, Hans and Henrik will be an hour late tomorrow. I will relay your message. See you soon, Fritz. Auf wiedersehen." He hung up. He returned his look at Newkirk and Carter. "Good news. That was Sergeant Weidman. He was very excited when I told him the news. He will be here within the hour and asks that you gentlemen will wait for him."

Carter looked at Newkirk with a 'what do we do now' look. Not expecting this curve ball to be thrown their way, Newkirk said the only thing he could. "Excellent. We will wait. Is there someplace we could perhaps wait for him privately?"

"Unfortunately, all the offices are locked at this hour or are occupied. However, if you want, there is a bench by the wall near the door. You can sit there and wait."

Newkirk looked over near the door and spotted the bench and how close it was to the front doors. He looked back at Decker. "Danke, Sergeant. We will wait." He then motioned with his head for Carter to keep quiet and follow him. They walked down the hall and sat down on the bench to wait.

"Newkirk, what are we doing?" asked Carter nervously. "We're suppose to be doing reconnaissance only."

"Carter, how could we turn around and say we can't see Weidman after we just said we needed to see him. That sergeant over there might have become suspicious. We're just gonna have to deviate from the original plan a bit."

Fritz returned to the table where Henrik and Hans were drinking a second mug of beer. His mood was immediately noticed by the others.

"What is it, Fritz?" asked Hans, concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"Nein. There are two men from Berlin to see me," he explained, apparently excited. "They have news of my brother, Baer. I was told by Sergeant Decker. I must leave. They are waiting for me in SS headquarters."

Hans and Henrik exchanged surprised looks and then looked at their comrade. They both knew Fritz had been trying for months to find out news on his older brother who was missing in action on the Russian front.

"That is wonderful news, Fritz," Hans exclaimed. "Henrik and I are very happy for you."

"Ja. I hope they have good news for you." Henrik said. He thought for a moment. "Would you like us to accompany you back to SS headquarters?"

"Nein. There is no need. Stay here and enjoy yourselves. After all, you have plans to make and besides, if the news is not good, I would want to be alone for a while. Surely you can understand that."

"Ja, we can, Fritz," said Henrik. "But we will pray it is good news."

"Danke. Oh. I told the sergeant we will be an hour late in the morning. Who knows, we might have something else to celebrate besides capturing Colonel Hogan. But now I must go. Auf wiedersehen." Not waiting for a reply, the young Sergeant rushed out of the Hofbrau leaving his two friends with their beers and plans.

Newkirk checked his watch. Nearly thirty minutes had passed since he and Carter had heard that Sergeant Fritz Weidman would be returning to SS headquarters to see them. He sighed wearily.

"How much longer are we going to wait, Newkirk? Kinch and LeBeau are gonna start getting worried. And if Colonel Hogan wakes up before we get back and asks about us, we're all gonna get it."

"We'll give the bloody Kraut fifteen more minutes and then we make our apologies and leave. Now stop your yammerin', will you. I need to think."

Fifteen more minutes passed with no sign of the Sergeant. Newkirk motioned for Carter to follow as he got up. They both walked up to the desk again. Sergeant Decker looked up.

"Something wrong, Major?" Decker asked.

"Ja. We have waited forty-five minutes. I'm afraid we cannot wait any longer. Please give Sergeant Weidman…" he paused as Decker eyes shifted from him to something down the hall.

"He has just come in, Major."

Newkirk and Carter both turned and saw Weidman hurrying in their direction. Newkirk and Carter exchanged looks, hoping Weidman didn't recognize them despite the disguises.

Finally, a slightly winded Weidman reached the waiting men. "I hurried as fast as I could, Major. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long?" He didn't seem to recognize them causing Newkirk and Carter both to heave a silent sigh of relief.

Newkirk smiled warmly despite wanting to wrap his hands around Weidman's neck for what he had helped do to Colonel Hogan. But he swallowed his rising anger and nausea and maintained a warm smile. "Not at all, Sergeant. Glad you could make it. The lieutenant and I were about to leave. I am Major Hindman and my aide is Lieutenant Eichmann. But please. Take a few minutes and catch your breath."

Weidman nodded and smiled, grateful for a few minutes to collect himself. After awhile, he nodded that he was okay.

"I'm fine now. Danke. Now, I understand you have news of my brother, Colonel Baer Weidman?"

"Ja, that is correct, Sergeant," said Newkirk. Blimey, I'd like to break your bleedin' neck, you ruddy Kraut bastard. "Your brother has been found alive and was transferred to a hospital here in Hammelburg from Berlin after he was badly wounded at the Russian front. We came here to bring you to the hospital where he is so the two of you can be reunited."

"I don't understand something," Weidman said, eyes narrowing. "How come I wasn't contacted directly when my brother was found? Why did someone from Berlin have to come and get me? I mean, my brother knows where I am."

"I know he does, Sergeant. But you see, he was badly injured and has been unconscious since his injury. Also, from what we understand, he had no identification on him when he was found. The hospital he was in contacted us by mistake when they saw his dog tags, and after a little checking, we found out he had a brother and where you were located. And here we are."

"Is he in a coma then?" Weidman asked, worried.

"That I cannot answer. But the doctor in charge of his care will explain everything to you and answer any questions you may have. But we must hurry. The doctor caring for your brother will only wait a while longer. We spoke with him before we came here. He promised to wait for two more hours only. So, we must leave immediately."

"Then what are we waiting for," Weidman answered, smiling.

"Unfortunately, our car broke down en-route here and we commandeered a truck. It is parked outside. I'm afraid you will have to ride in the back with me. Is that all right?"

"Ja. That is fine."

"Excellent. Then we shall leave now." Newkirk looked at Decker. "Danke, Sergeant Decker for all your assistance."

"You are welcome, Major, Lieutenant. I am very happy for you, Fritz."

"Danke." Then he, Carter and Newkirk walked quickly down the long hall and out the door into the cool, crisp night air. Newkirk looked around nervously. Then, after Weidman climbed into the back of the truck, Newkirk climbed in after him with Carter getting in the front seat behind the wheel. He pulled away from the curb and headed in the direction of the camp.

Fritz suddenly felt a bit of trepidation and didn't know why. He looked at his hands as he rubbed them together chalking it up to hearing the news that his brother had been found alive. He let out a deep breath and looked at Newkirk.

"Nervous?" asked Newkirk, smiling.

"Just a little."

"That is understandable. But, I believe this will make you calm down." He reached and suddenly yanked out his lugar, pointing it at Weidman. "Don't make a move, you ruddy bastard," Newkirk replied in his normal voice.

Weidman, startled, stared at the Major. "You're not SS. You're British!" he exclaimed. He bolted for the back of the truck where the canvas flapped gently in the night air, but Newkirk was just a bit quicker. The Englander, wrapping an arm around Weidman's neck, pressed the weapon against his temple.

"Give me a bloody excuse to blow your brains out! Go ahead!" His rage was boiling over. He roughly shoved the sergeant to the back of the truck where Weidman landed hard, dazed. He suddenly felt his arms yanked behind him and a pair of handcuffs clamped tightly on his wrists. Newkirk then jerked him into a seated position so he could look him directly in the eyes.

"Who are you?" Weidman asked, nervously. "What do you want from me?"

"You have to answer for what you did to Colonel Hogan. You and your two chums."

"What we did to Colonel…wait a minute. You're from Stalag 13! You and your aide both!"

Newkirk smirked. "That's right, chum. Me mate Carter is your driver. You and your friends made a big mistake when you forced yourselves on our colonel in the woods the other night. Then to make matters worse, you three bastards waltzed right into our prison camp just as nice as you please, and tried it again. I ought to blow your filthy brains all over this truck right now." Pointing his weapon again at the sergeant, Newkirk took off the safety. He aimed at Weidman's head. But just as suddenly lowered his weapon and flipped the safety back on. "But I'm not gonna do it now. That would be too easy and too obvious. But you'll pay after we get back to camp. All of you will pay. And you're gonna be the first."

Weidman suddenly felt bold. He smirked. "Your Colonel Hogan is a dead man," he said coldly. "Hans and Henrik will see to it. But before they do, they're going to have fun with him for hours. He'll be begging for death before they're through tearing him apart. Want to know why? Because he was entertaining and…" He never finished because Newkirk stuffed a handkerchief in his mouth, silencing him.

"Let's see how you enjoy having your arms restrained behind you and a gag shoved in your mouth," Newkirk sneered. He then leaned back against the wall of the truck for the remainder of the ride back to Stalag 13.

(1) The SS was formed in 1925 as a personal guard unit for Adolph Hitler. Under Heinrich Himmler between 1925 and 1945, the SS grew from a small paramilitary formation to become one of the largest and most powerful organizations in Nazi Germany.