Hogan and Newkirk wandered around the grounds of the stalag talking to their fellow prisoners, making sure that Klink saw them. A while later Hogan quietly slipped back into the barracks and down to the tunnel. He met up with Kinch in the radio room.
"London said good job on rescuing Howland and Billings. They can have a plane here in four days, but not before. There's a large offensive scheduled in three days and they don't want to alert the Jerries with a lone plane coming in under the radar," Kinch informed him handing the details to Hogan.
"What about during the raid? It would be good cover," Hogan asked reading the transmission.
"We're in the wrong part of Germany and the Germans would be on too high an alert making it even more dangerous for the rescue plane. London is asking if we can hold onto them until after the raid." Kinch explained, while still connected with the Allied High Command.
"Tell them yes, we'll wait. But make sure they understand both men need more medical care then we can provide," Hogan ordered. "Inform London we'll be sending the ladies and David on the same plane and possibly a couple of more, if they make it here in time. I'll tell Wilson about the delay."
"Will do, sir," Kinch tapped out the response.
Hogan made his way to the tunnel infirmary and explained the plan to Wilson. "How are they doing?"
"About as well as can be expected. Howland is awake, if you'd like to speak with him," Wilson answered.
Hogan sat down next to Howland. "We've made arrangements for a plane to pick you up in four days. We'll make you as comfortable as possible until then."
"Thank you, sir, and for getting us out of that place. I'm sorry I didn't trust you in the truck," Howland apologised. His head was turned so he could watch what was going on with his one good eye. The other was swollen shut black and blue.
"Don't worry about it, I didn't take it personally. I'd be suspicious too in your situation. Is there anything we can get you?" Hogan asked watching the young man.
"Some water would be nice. Do you know what happened to Sergeant Mitchell, sir?" Howland asked with a hint of sadness in his voice.
"No I don't, but I'll ask around," Hogan replied, helping Howland drink from a glass of water.
"The other man in the Gestapo uniform, I'd like an opportunity to say thank you to him too," Howland requested after drinking what he could.
"Fritz might be back later. Now he really is Gestapo." Howland looked at Hogan confused and a little scared. "It's a long story, but he's a member of the underground."
"That's a surprise," he was quiet for a moment reflecting on Hogan's answer. "Sir, the medic said Billings would be all right, but it's so strange not to hear Jon talking all the time." Howland stopped speaking, taking deep breaths to stifling a groan.
Wilson came over checking on the lieutenant. "Billings is being the strong silent type right now. He'll be fine. He needs time to get over what he's been through."
"That's the problem, he's never silent. He's a chatterbox, so this is really unusual. What did Schmidt do to him?" Howland shook his head in worry.
"Where you present during his interrogation?"
"No. When we parachuted out of the plane, we got separated by the winds from the rest of the crew. I watched four others bailout before the three of us. As soon as we hit the ground, I ditched the chute and went searching for my men. Mitchell landed near me and then we found Billings hanging from a tree unconscious. Right after we got him down that's when we were captured by Schmidt's men and forced into a truck. Billings was coming around when were taken into the facility, and the next time we were together was in the truck with you. I never saw Mitchell again, but he wasn't injured when we went into that place." Howland explained obviously enervating.
"If he had a serious concussion before the interrogations, that might explain some of what's going on with him. That's important information. Where there any other injuries from the jump?" Wilson asked placing an ice pack on Howland's arm.
"I didn't have a chance to find out, but I don't remember seeing any blood except on his head," Howland did his best to stifle a yawn.
"Get some rest. We'll do everything we can for the both of you," Hogan said standing up.
"Sir, is there any word about the rest of my men?" Howland asked forcing his eye to stay open.
"I'll ask around and see what I can find out," Hogan promised. He didn't want to say anything about the men they were expecting from the underground until he determined if they were from Howland's crew not wanting to get the lieutenant's hopes up. Howland quickly fell asleep.
"All right sir, I see I have to ask about your injury," Wilson said giving Hogan his most stern medic look.
"Huh? My injury?" Hogan responded confused.
"You're breathing shallow. What happened?"
"Nothing's wrong with me," Hogan answered with a patented smile.
"Then take a deep breath," Wilson demanded. Hogan took a deep breath to get Wilson off his back, but winced slightly when he did.
"Okay, what happened?"
"It's a bruise to remind me not to get distracted while transporting prisoners," Hogan said turning to leave.
"I need to see this bruise to make sure nothing was broken along with it, sir," Wilson requested preventing Hogan from exiting.
"Sergeant, you have real patients who need your help. There's nothing wrong with me," Hogan was becoming angry.
"With all due respect, I'll be the judge of that. You're in my domain. If it's only a bruise, you'll be out of here in a minute. Don't make me pull rank," Wilson held his ground. Hogan rolled his eyes and lifted his shirt for Wilson to examine the bruise from where Schmidt had elbowed him. His left side had turned nasty colours already. Wilson palpated the area to determine if any of Hogan's ribs had been fractured. "Fortunately it is only a bruise this time. I'd suggest you put some ice on it though."
"I'll keep that in mind," Hogan said tucking his shirt back in. "Now if you don't mind, I have things to take care of and you have patients."
Wilson watched Hogan leave shaking his head. He knew once Hogan gave in so easily it was most likely a bruise, but one could never tell when his command officer was trying to hide something serious from him.
Gestapo Headquarters
Hochstetter looked slightly annoyed, "Now tell me what really happened at SS Headquarters."
"When I arrived, Schmidt refused to meet with anyone saying he was too busy today, so I never spoke with him. However, as I said, I talked with Burkeman, and he'd not seen Kohl around. Burkeman gave me another report he wants to get to the General, so I took it," Fuchs reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope. He passed it over to Hochstetter. "To my knowledge, Schmidt is alive. However, it's possible that the SS dealt with him."
"Why would they blame the Gestapo? They rarely even try to explain such an act," Hochstetter's eyebrows went up as he read the report. "Schmidt callously shot another one of his men? Being in the SS is almost as dangerous as being on the Russian Front. Make a copy then send this along as usual. I called out there, but was told that Schmidt had left for the day. Perhaps I should take a drive out there."
"Have you sent men to look for a body at this location?" Fuchs asked trying not to show concern.
"Not yet. I haven't had the manpower to spare," Hochstetter answered shaking his head. He handed the report back to Fuchs.
"There is another possibility, sir. Might Kohl have met up with Schmidt today, but instead of finding an ally, Schmidt attempted to arrest Kohl? Kohl wouldn't go without a fight and might have killed Schmidt instead of being taken into custody. From a distance, Kohl and I have been mistaken for one another before, because we of our similar body builds and the same hair colour. I suspect whoever witnessed this wouldn't have gotten close enough to realise that it was Kohl and not me," Fuchs offered. He folded the report and placed it back in his pocket.
"That is the most plausible explanation. Take some men and check out the area. We need to verify if Schmidt is dead or alive before we report this to anyone. When Kohl is caught, I will kill him personally for everything he's put me through. How did we not know he was this unstable? How do I explain to the SS one of my officers killed their colonel? Not that they weren't about to rid themselves of Schmidt, but this is will cause trouble. They'll attempt to blame us for losing a good officer. I'm glad we have copies of all the reports you've smuggled for Burkeman. At least they won't be able to deny what was going on when confronted with them. Once this is over, we're doing a full audit of every man in this command," Hochstetter ordered.
"Yes, sir," Fuchs answered glad Hochstetter bought his story.
Hochstetter dismissed Fuchs and then he left the office and had Corporal Schneider drive him home for a change of clothes. He kept thinking about the suspect board that Kohl had created, something about it was nagging him, but he couldn't put his finger on the problem. Why didn't he see what had been happening with his own officer? The connexions to some of the townspeople that Kohl had made, didn't add up. Most had been cleared by either himself or Fuchs as having no involvement with the underground. Some people on the list were absurd. However, it wouldn't hurt to do another round of verifying that they were still loyal Germans.
When they arrived at Hochstetter's house, Schneider stayed outside standing guard while Hochstetter went inside. The corporal was protective over his commanding officer and determined nothing else would happen to Hochstetter on his watch. The men in his unit were ready to take Kohl out on sight, and Schneider was no exception. Hochstetter might be demanding at times, but he knew how to take care of his men and they'd follow him anywhere.
Hochstetter walked in his house tossing his jacket on the back of the sofa and dropping his briefcase onto the table. Then went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, picked up the milk bottle, and took a drink out of the bottle. He took out the leftovers and laid them on the counter, grabbed a plate from the cabinet and placed some food on it. After preparing what he wanted to eat, he put the rest of it back in the refrigerator. Taking a clean glass out of the sink, he poured himself a glass of the milk then put the bottle back. He took his food into his office placing it on the desk. As he sat down to eat, he noticed a folder on his desk that wasn't his. Opening the file which was in Fuchs handwriting, the file name caught his attention: Papa Bear.