Catalyna-3
Colonel Hogan, arms across his chest, let a burst of air escape his lips instead of saying whatever he was thinking. Obviously not something he'd say in front of a lady. I'm no doctor, nor do I portray one, but I think he was also beginning to get one hell of a headache.
Meanwhile, I had stopped blubbering and was waiting to see what was going to happen. Someone had put a cup of coffee in my hands. Oh, my! I'm not a coffee snob, really I'm not. It doesn't have to be Starbucks or any other fancy-schmancy coffee. If anything, I'm just the opposite: I don't like real strong coffee, I don't like it real weak; actually, I'm more of a Vanilla Latte or Dolce Cappuccino drinking type of girl. This was not either. It was strong enough that I fully expect if any of these men were to disrobe from the waist up, they would look as if they were all in gorilla suits. I mean this was truly put-hair-on-the-chest coffee. Someone, I think it was Newkirk took pity on me and took the cup away; shortly returning with a cup of tea. Now, strong tea, I can deal with.
As I said, we were all waiting to see what the Colonel would do. I kept his handkerchief, promising myself I was going to wash it first chance I got and give it back to him. Finally, Colonel Hogan looked like he had made a decision and told Olsen to take me to the "guest" quarters and lock me in. "Guest" quarters? Hopefully that meant the place where they had downed airmen stay until they could safely get out of camp rather than their own private cooler. And don't think I didn't notice that Colonel Hogan quickly whispered something into Olsen's ear and Olsen nodding before he took me into one of the tunnels.
The room was roughly hewn into the tunnel and it did have a door: with a lock. Great. But, on the other hand, it did have a comfy chair, a bunk, a makeshift bookcase with all sorts of odd books and magazines (some were the kind you would expect in a camp full of men without women; and appeared to be the most dog-eared), and a table of sorts with a wind up Victrola and records. Hey, this could be fun. Well, except, I couldn't see a toilet or bathroom and I would be locked in for how long I did not know. Luckily, I'm not claustrophobic. If anything, I love tunnels, caves and caverns. It's not the tight closed in spaces that get me; it's the cavern with the high ceiling. I know it's irrational, but I always think the high ceilings are going to fall, while I feel quite comfortable with low ceilings. Stupid, I know. They both have the same chance of falling.
"Um, is there a necessary down here?"
"Necessary for what? Oh." answered Olsen, realizing what at the same time he asked.
"Yeah." I'm sorry, but I was almost laughing. He was turning such a delightful red, especially for one with such a dark coloring.
"Well, there's one here," he said pushing aside a curtain showing what looked like the inside of a one-holer outhouse. "Lime is here," showing a bucket of white powder.
Gee, just like when I went camping when I was younger. Fun.
I decided that I really didn't need to go right away and turned to look at the records. Some were those thick about a ¼ inch 78's I hadn't seen in ages. Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey, the Andrews Sisters, Glen Miller were all represented and some I didn't recognize such as: the Howard Godfrey Orchestra, Flanagan and Allen, and Freddy Gardner and his Swing Orchestra. I put on one song I knew and liked: In the Mood.
Olsen showed me how to work the Victorola, and I was able to play the record. I guess I must have been at least moving my head to the music, because when I looked over to Olsen he was grinning and spread out his arms in invitation to dance.
"Nah"
"Com'on," his grin getting larger. "Do you know how long it's been since I've dance with a real woman?" Not long if the show had gotten his role right, and I had a feeling they did.
Yes, I do know how to dance. I've been subjugated to learning how since elementary school by well meaning teachers and administrators. In junior high and high school, I used to learn dancing whenever we had a choice between dancing and sports. For some reason, I was always put on the teams with the girl jocks and almost getting killed while they were running up to the net or basket to make the winning play. I'm sorry, my life and limbs mean much more to me than some stupid game with a ball. Don't even mention field hockey to me, girls with clubs? Hah! Some of those teams I played on would make even Hochstetter curl up in a ball and cry. Luckily I have inherited some of my mother's talent for dancing. (Besides, I do love dancing!)
It wasn't until I was in full swing when I looked up and seeing Olsen grinning down at me when I realized what was happening. "You Son of a Bitch!"
"Wh-What?" at least he looked confused.
"You're playing good cop/bad cop with me. How dare you! You can't even be honest with me." Um, yeah. Pot meet Kettle. Looking back I guess we both had our reasons for not being honest, but at the time, however unreasonable, I felt …hurt? Betrayed? Duped?
"Any moment, Colonel Hogan will come in here, be real mean, while you tell me not to upset him and you're my friend so I'll open up to you."
At that point the door did open, but not with Hogan, but with Newkirk.
"You're the bad cop?" I blurted out. Well, I'm sure he could be one if he wanted to. He did get pretty nasty to anyone he thought had hurt any of his colleagues in the show. Again, I was unreasonably angry. I mean, I wasn't even important enough for Colonel Hogan to personally come and interrogate me. Little did I know he had his hands full. Full? They were positively overflowing!
"No, darling. Not this time." This sarcastic comment was to me. The nicer toned, "Colonel wants her upstairs," was to Olsen.
We passed the larger open radio room and Hogan and a woman were arguing.
"Colonel Hogan, stop scaring the kids!" the woman demanded.
Hogan looked like he was on the verge of cracking. Spinning away from her, Hogan raised his fist to smack the tunnel wall, and then dropped it abruptly with a sigh that came out more as a whimper. Yep, that headache was really getting to him.
"Listen," he said through gritted teeth, "I am doing what I must to take care of the security of this operation."
"Chaining up little IronAmerica?!" the woman yelled. "She's a dear, sweet girl who's just a bit… exuberant. She'll settle down. And convincing poor Tuttle you meant to kill her? Handcuffing Jake? And hitting Niente Zero? That is not the behavior of an officer and a gentleman."
"An officer and a gentleman like Klink?" Colonel Hogan snapped back.
She glared back coldly. "Yes."
Olsen, looking embarrassed tried to get me up the ladder fast. I couldn't help but turn around, and ask, "Did he really do all those things?" Olsen motioned me to keep moving: a clear case of nicht gesacht ist ja gemeint. YIKES!! How did I escape such treatment? Maybe I hadn't been here long enough…yet.
May I just say here that those ladders were not made for anyone really short. I would love to know how LeBeau did it. He was just three inches taller than me, but those steps were really spread. Of course, Le Beau didn't have to worry about skirts.
We finally made it up, although by that time I think I had cause a bit of a traffic jam with the others following. As I said, those steps had a large spread, and I hadn't climbed anything like that since I was a kid and my brothers and sister nicknamed me "The Monkey."
Okay another aside: I was a brat. I used to tell on them, and to retaliate and not get into trouble with Mom and Dad they would just put things out of my reach. I couldn't complain or I would get into trouble for being a tattle tale and my eldest brother and sister wouldn't take me to anywhere fun, so I had to keep my mouth shut and deal. After awhile, I could climb up on almost anything.
In the main room of the barracks some of the men were sitting around and I saw some women. Obviously more time travelers by the way they were dressed. I sat down next to one.
"Excuse me, but did the colonel really hit one of you, threaten you, and handcuff you?" Three women nodded yes. One asked me what had happened to me.
"Um, Olsen made me dance with him."
Now I've corresponded with these women. They are very nice, but let me tell you, one of those nice women has a look that could cause a blizzard in a D.C. summertime.
The Colonel and the woman he was arguing came up. Colonel Hogan threw a piece of paper on the table.
"We have to sing," one of the time travelers said dismally upon reading the paper.
"I don't sing," I replied. It's true. All those years in Teen Theatre, I was a mouther. It really started when I was auditioning for a part in "Once upon a Mattress" my brother heard the director and music coordinator say, "My god! If only she could sing!" Yes, so while I'm good at the comedy, don't expect singing.
"And we don't even know the tune."
"Oh!" one of the young women put in gleefully. "It's to the tune of 'Hello, Mary Lou', and we have to all sing in unison and hold hands. That'll send us back to our correct time."
"Uh huh, sure," Colonel Hogan said shortly. "I'm willing to try anything." Yes, I bet he would by this time!
Halfheartedly, we joined hands and sounding more like cats at midnight with maybe one hound baying at the moon, we tried singing the song. Mid-way through, the barracks' door opened and Schultz barged in, pushing LeBeau against the wall along with the door.
We all looked up and seeing Schultz, we couldn't help ourselves. "Schultz!" and "Schultzies!" abounded. I mean it was the teddy bear himself! He even seemed like the Schultz on TV. Oh it was so nice that something was finally right. He even said, "I know nothing, nothing!"
Unfortunately, when the men finally got him to leave, we could hear Schultz bellowing the lyrics to the Mary Sue song as he marched across the compound. At least it sounded better when he sang it.
Colonel Hogan seeing the singing didn't do anything crumpled the paper and tossed it in the stove.
"We've left clues around town and even with Klink in the camp—honestly I think he's wearing that lip gloss you left, Jessica. I swear he smelled of strawberries when I was just over there." Okay, so Jessica was snogging Klink? KLINK?
"No bites from the Gestapo or anyone else. I think Operation Breadcrumbs might be a dud. So, what's the next suggestion for getting all of you out of here?"
Just then Carter burst into the barracks. Excitedly, he announced, "Colonel, a staff car just drove in full of German scientists and one of them has a mysterious golden device that looks important!"
Could this be our way home? I didn't get a good look at it at the archives, but if so, hallelujah and you can keep the bloody ammunition to yourself!