A/N: A few graphic references in this one
April 20, 1945
Brigitta was gone when Hogan awoke the next morning, having wanted to leave before dawn to line up for rations. It was Hitler's 56th birthday and a special eight-day allowance was being handed out which included one tiny can of vegetables, a few ounces of sugar and a half-ounce of real coffee. No civilian could afford to miss rations of this generosity and the lines at the grocery stores were expected to be long.
Hogan stretched briefly but stayed in bed, propping an arm under his head, the other resting on his bare chest, as he stared at the ceiling. He lay awake, savouring the good memories of last night which had soothed the ragged edges of his soul, shying away from the earlier violence of the evening.
The joining upon reaching his room had been passionate and frenetic, fervent and immediate. As he and Brigitta lay entwined afterwards, they had talked about the future, the end of the war, and the possible fate of Germany. Then they made love once more, slowly, savouring each caress and reaction, living for the moment until both were thoroughly sated. Brigitta may have been a few years younger than him, but she was well-versed in the ways of love. Her husband had been a lucky man.
A sudden banging on his door startled Hogan out of his reverie, heart racing. Hochstetter? His first thoughts were immediately of the man he'd left in the alley last night. But Hogan didn't think enough had been said to lead the Gestapo man here so quickly. Hogan jumped out of bed and hastily donned his pyjama pants.
"Who's there?" he called, approaching the door and flicking on the main light.
"SS," came the reply.
Hogan knew Hochstetter wouldn't send anyone but Gestapo men to arrest him. Relieved but still cautious, Hogan cracked the door, noting the two SS soldiers with machine guns slung over their shoulders waiting in the hall. Swinging the door wide, he allowed the men to enter.
"Hauptsturmführer Strauss?" asked the guard. At Hogan's nod, he saluted and then continued, "You have been summoned by the Führer. We are to escort you to the Reich Chancellery with all your kit at once."
"What this is about?" Hogan asked briskly.
"Hauptsturmführer Pfeiffer was killed last night in the air raid." Hogan flinched at the bluntness of the soldier's words. He felt a pang of remorse in his heart at the mention of the demise of his friend. "You are the Führer's new senior adjutant and he has requested your presence immediately," finished the soldier. "Room has been made available for you in the Voss bunker. You will not be returning here any time in the near future."
Hogan shoved aside his emotions and easily fell back into command mode. "I must shower first," he stated firmly to the unlisted men.
"The Führer is not to be kept waiting, Captain," the corporal dared to say.
"And I will be ready as quickly as I can. You expect me to report to the Führer unshaven and unwashed?" retorted Hogan. "I will be 20 minutes. Wait in the hall."
True to his word, Hogan was showered, shaved, and dressed in a fresh uniform in under a quarter of an hour. His numerous quick changes at Stalag 13 had well-prepared him for that at least. He quickly filled his suitcase with his uniforms, pyjamas, shave kit, and other belongings, leaving nothing behind.
The soldiers ushered Hogan down stairs and out of the hotel. As he crossed the lobby, he caught sight of Brigitta returning to the café. He could see her gasp and her eyes widen at the men accompanying him. Fearing for him, Brigitta flew out of the restaurant and met him half way across the foyer.
"Erlich?" she questioned, not daring to voice more.
"It is alright, Brigitta. These are men from my office. There is an emergency and I must report to the Führer immediately. It's time for you to go, just as we talked about last night."
"I cannot go and leave you here," she replied, emotion causing her voice to crack.
"The Soviets threaten the heart of Berlin. It will not be safe here, even for civilians, especially for civilians, if they break through. Please, Brigitta, you must flee the city to the southwest to be safe. These men will ensure I make it to the Reich Chancellery. My duty will be in staying there night and day until the enemy is pushed back. I do not know when or if I'll be returning…"
"Don't talk like that, Erlich. You must be safe," she said firmly, as if saying it would make it come true. Tears misted her eyes, but none fell.
"Nothing is certain. I am an important officer and if the Soviets win…" Hogan left the sentence unfinished as his head dropped. He grasped her hands and watched his thumbs rub gently over the backs of her hands. "Do not fret for me. I will be able to do my duty much better knowing you are safe. You must go now before the city is entirely cut off." Hogan looked directly into her eyes in an effort to convince her. "Please Brigitta, you must promise me you'll leave. I do not have much time. The Führer waits."
"Alright, Erlich, I will go home, pack a few things and leave Berlin as you have asked," promised Brigitta. "Will I ever see you again?" she asked hesitantly.
"I do not know. You were there when I needed you and I cannot thank you enough for everything you have done for me. Good-bye, Brigitta. Be safe."
He leaned in and gave her a kiss on her temple. Stepping back, he gave her a smile, and squeezed her hands, then turned and continued out of the hotel without looking back.
When Hogan arrived at the Reich Chancellery, he was immediately escorted down to the Voss bunker located under the dance floor of the Chancellery reception hall. The walls were grey, with a green stripe painted about five feet up the wall and trimming the doors. The floor was grey too, a flat tile which caused his footsteps to echo in the narrow halls. Hogan was shown into a small room that appeared to double as both quarters and an office. He dumped his suitcase on the army-issue bed and hung his spare uniforms in the tiny wardrobe. His shave kit he placed on the cupboard's shelf, thinking it was ironic he now had to share his bathroom, considering the first conversation he had had with Hitler.
The soldiers barely gave Hogan time to get that little amount situated before they escorted him to the Führer. He was taken through several passageways and a connecting hallway into the Führerbunker. The difference was immediate as Hogan's feet once again connected with more of the same lush red carpeting which covered the hall to the War Room. However the room he entered was not as big or as lavish as the one upstairs in the Reich Chancellery. Hogan recognized a few of the paintings and sculptures from above ground. They were obviously some of Hitler's favourites and had been moved underground to be kept safe from the expected attacks. The small conference room had a central table surrounded by a simple wooden bench. Hogan could see the table was covered with maps.
Hogan came to attention and gave the Hitler salute.
"Happy Birthday, Mein Führer," said Hogan to the small man pacing behind the table.
Hitler paused and gave Hogan the once-over with a critical eye. "You heard about Pfeiffer?"
"The guards mentioned when they collected me. He was a good officer. He will be missed," replied Hogan.
"A most unfortunate occurrence. You look like you took some damage as well," noted the Führer.
The cut over Hogan's eye had scabbed over nicely during the night, but he had also developed some light bruises from his scuffle with Hochstetter. "Nothing major, Mein Führer. Hans and I had dined together but were separated over the course of the air raid. I did not realize it would be the last time I saw him," he said regretfully.
"You will assume his full duties immediately." Hitler paused, considering. "Walk with me," ordered Hitler abruptly.
Hitler led the way through another passageway in the back of the conference room to a spiral staircase. They climbed up to a door which led outside to the garden behind the Reich Chancellery. Waiting for them were several Hitler Youth, dressed smartly in their uniforms, snapping to attention at the appearance of their Führer. The Reich Minister of Propaganda and Entertainment, Dr. Joseph Goebbels was also present with a photographer.
The air was thick with smoke and dust from the bombings and resulting fires which had burned long into the night. Hogan watched as the Führer presented the Youths with awards for bravery, the photographer happily snapping away, preserving the moment for posterity.
Hogan shook his head at the insaneness of it all. These boys were only fourteen years old! They should be running around and getting into mischief, playing sports, riding bikes, and going to school. Instead they were being praised for their bravery of 'volunteering' to join the SS in defense of Berlin; being given real guns with live ammunition and ordered to die for their Führer. In the brief trip from the Adlon to the Chancellery, Hogan had watched the soldiers rounding up every available man, woman, and child to stand and fight against the Soviets. Those who did not volunteer to fight were hung by the SS. Hogan had seen the bodies swinging from the wrought iron arms of the lamp posts as they traveled down the main street. Being one man, he was powerless to stop the madness despite his officer's rank. As his vehicle passed a group of new 'recruits', Hogan felt the hatred in their eyes burn him as they perceived him as one of the instigators of the roundup due to his uniform. He found himself shutting out the proceedings, a survival tactic to separate his feelings from what he was witnessing, trying to preserve the part of him that was still Robert Hogan.
In the garden, another set of troops awaited inspection. As Hitler did his due diligence, Hogan studied the surrounding area. It was probably a peaceful spot once, a place to come for reflection, fresh air, or to have a private conversation away from official or prying eyes. Not much was in bloom, the early spring flowers having finished and the late spring ones not yet opening their colour to the world. Hogan noted the perimeter wall was now punctuated with dugouts and piles of bazookas at the ready. Not a peaceful place any more.
Hogan's attention returned to the Führer as he spoke, assuring the soldiers the victory would still be Germany's and they would be able to tell their grandchildren one day of their glorious defeat of the enemy forces. Hogan wondered at Hitler's mindset; whether he truly believed the words he spoke or was only trying to inspire the men who would die at his command. He tried to put himself in their shoes: if Germany had been America, would he still be following orders? His pride in his country and military duty letting him believe victory was still possible if he just gave a little bit more? Tried a little bit harder? Would he be willing to give his life for the cause when defeat seemed so near? Hogan frowned at his inner musings. There was no way he would know the answer to those questions without actually living it. It was easy to carry on when you were on the winning side – everything seemed much more clear cut.
After the troops had been dismissed, Hitler took one last tour around the garden before heading inside. It would be the last time Adolf Hitler ever saw the sun.
The staff underground was drastically reduced in numbers to the bare minimum of secretaries, adjutants, guards, and the like. The Voss bunker housed the majority of the personnel in dorm rooms and also contained the communications station, mess, kitchens, lavatories, and other necessities. There were some private quarters for the upper ranks as well. Everything was stark and utilitarian in direct contrast with the contents of the Führerbunker.
The Führer had the most number of rooms, which included the office/conference room Hogan had been escorted to earlier. Hitler's private rooms consisted of a bedroom with army bed, wardrobe, chest of drawers, and safe; and a low-ceilinged living room with desk, table, and hard sofa. A portrait of Hitler's idol, Frederick the Great, hung over the desk. Goebbels also had rooms and a study there, as did Eva Braun. There were two emergency exits in addition to the exit to the garden.
Hogan lay atop his bed in deep thought. He had gone to the Mess earlier for a late lunch and then toured the halls briefly, trying to learn his way around. There was not much to do in the bunker for amusement; no recreation hall or games room so Hogan had returned to his room.
He thought about taking a nap, weary from the events of yesterday and today and limited sleep the night before. However every time he closed his eyes, he was assaulted with images from the air raid and his horrific trip through Berlin.
The words Hochstetter had spoken when he had Hogan on his knees echoed painfully around his mind. My sources inform me a gold star already hangs in your parents' front window...
Damn it! Hogan raged and flung one arm over his head to pound his pillow. He had fought not to have his family notified of this insane scheme but his own Brass had overruled him. 'Wanted to protect him,' they said. It hadn't worked. Hochstetter still came after him relentlessly, despite all evidence to the contrary. And it had damn near been the end of him as well. He knew he should have avoided the Bier Stube but Pfeiffer had insisted. It was nearby and they were both exhausted and famished. It was also one of the only restaurants still open and Hans had a more-than-passing interest for Liesl.
Hogan sighed and rolled over on his side, thinking about his family. Back home, he could imagine his mother acting strong and firm, making sure Maggie and Susan were ok and Dad as well, not allowing herself the time to grieve properly. Scott would still have been in training. He was probably given leave and hopefully had been able to get home to help his parents and sisters cope. But then there was poor Tom. He was stationed over here somewhere on the front lines and wouldn't have his family members to support him. Robert prayed Tom wouldn't do something stupid like charging the Germans out of anger or being distracted by grief and let his concentration slip during a heated skirmish. Tom should not end up as the Hogan who wouldn't be coming home due to this lame attempt to protect his ass. Rob's eyes misted and he fought to rein in his emotions.
Then there was the other issue Hochstetter pointed out. Someone on the German's side had been watching his parents' house. There were spies in his own backyard – literally. The thought made Hogan's skin crawl to have Nazis observing his Mom and Dad. Rob had come to Europe to stop Hitler and his fanatics before they could set foot on his country's soil. He knew first hand what evil they could do. Now they were shadowing his family and there was no way to let anyone on his side know. He would gladly take on a hundred Nazis by himself or suffer unspeakable torture to protect his family, but he was trapped here in Hitler's bunker being Erlich Strauss every minute of every day and there was nothing he could do. Helplessness and frustration reared their ugly heads and he fought off their depression.
Hogan felt a tremor vibrate his bed. Earlier he had heard calls up and down the hallway that Berlin was suffering another massive air strike. Once in a while, a shell would land close enough to make his cot shudder. He wondered what would happen if a shell landed directly over top of the bunker. The thought of being buried alive was not appealing in the least.
Unable to sit in his quarters any longer, Hogan decided to wander around the bunker, despite the continued rumblings and occasional jolt which caused him to misstep and catch his balance. He hoped to wear off his pent up energy and distract his mind as he explored his surroundings, becoming familiar with the layout of the underground mini-city. Hogan traipsed back and forth, memorizing the twists and turns which would get him from various points A to points B, such as his quarters to the Mess. He also scoped out all the emergency exits.
At one point, he had to move to the side of the hallway as several women with suitcases rushed by heading towards the west exit. Recognizing one as Marta as she hurried past, he realized Hitler's secretaries were being evacuated. Hogan's thoughts briefly turned to Brigitta and he hoped she had made it out of the city okay. As the soldier escorting the ladies passed him, he gave Hogan a strange look. A shout came from down the hall and the soldier paused to hear the update that the roads were cut off – the secretaries were going to have to fly out once the shelling stopped. Having acknowledged the change in plans, the soldier caught up with the women and quickly herded them out of the bunker.
The soldier was honoured his Führer had chosen him to escort the secretaries out of the bunker. As he encouraged them to hasten down one of the corridors, he passed Hauptsturmführer Strauss. He remembered the odd behaviour of the Captain a couple of days ago, but although he had been watching, he never saw him doing anything else suspicious. The soldier supposed it didn't matter now, as he was leaving on a very important mission and shrugged it off as what it appeared to be: the Captain getting supplies from the closet. Someone caught his attention down the hall and changed his planned destination to the air field. All thoughts of Captain Strauss fled from his mind as he followed his orders to get the women to safety.
It was nearing time for the evening meal and although he wasn't too hungry, Hogan decided to make his way to the Mess once more simply for something to do. As he passed the entrance to the Führerbunker, he could see into the conference room. Only a handful of Generals and other chiefs were gathered around the table, an indication of those showing true loyalty and continued belief in their Führer.
The raised voices carried down the hall and Hogan had no trouble overhearing Hitler split his command, sending Großadmiral Karl Dönitz, head of the Kriegsmarine, along with half of the High Command staff to the north to set up headquarters in Flensburg near the Danish border. The rest of the High Command was sent to the south. Göring pleaded with Hitler to be allowed to leave for Berchtesgaden, which was granted but even from the hall, Hogan could tell Hitler was not pleased by the request.
Hogan didn't get a good look at everyone in the room, but he didn't see anyone who remotely looked like Burkhalter in attendance. He wondered what had become of the Luftwaffe General. In the grand scheme of things, Hogan supposed being head of POW camps which had mostly been liberated already was a very minor role. Burkhalter was not a line officer and wouldn't have been required to attend the strategy meetings anyway. At least he didn't have to worry about being recognized. He would have been difficult to avoid in such close quarters.
Hogan had paused long enough to be spotted and was immediately waved in to help with the blooming crisis. Dinner would have to wait.
Procedures had changed with the move underground. No longer were written orders required, with communications handled directly over the phone to the radio room which left Hogan unable to manipulate things as he had done previously. He would have to come up with a new plan.
Reports were flowing in constantly and the phone in the conference room was ringing off the hook. Hogan found himself answering it more often than not and relaying information coming in fast and furious. Soviet tanks were pouring through the gap between the Fourth Panzers and the Ninth Army. Hitler called for a counterattack to get the gap closed. Heinrici argued that the Ninth Army's right flank should be pulled back as it was in danger of being encircled by the Russians. Hitler made his opinion known vehemently and ordered Heinrici to hold his line; however Heinrici had already began to move the Ninth westward, a small piece of intelligence Hogan conveniently 'forgot' to pass on in the heat of the battle. Hitler continued to react as if the gap was being closed when in fact it was widening due to Heinrici carrying on with his own plans. By evening, word of the huge breach in the Fourth Panzers line had reached the Führerbunker, but it would come too late.
The remains of the General Staff recognized the breach could never be closed now and plans were brought forth to scrape together everything they possibly could towards Berlin's defense. Hitler stubbornly refused to leave Berlin; however he allowed much more of his staff, perhaps eighty in all, to flee overnight in one of the last flights to the south.
It was well after midnight when Hogan was dismissed and finally returned to his quarters for the night. Knowing he had to get some rest, he quickly changed and got into bed. It didn't take him long to fall into an uneasy sleep peppered with nightmares which kept him tossing and turning.
It was hazy with smoke or fog, Hogan couldn't tell which, but he could see the vague outlines of buildings and knew he was in Berlin. He could see the shadows of other SS soldiers as they forced civilians out of their homes and into the streets to fight. He was dressed in his American bomber jacket and crush cap. Standing beside him was Hans Pfeiffer.
Pfeiffer shook Hogan's hand then gave him a text-book salute, complete with heel click. "Congratulations Erlich. I am proud you have taken over my position as adjutant in my stead. You will no doubt serve our Führer well. Why do you insist upon pretending to be what you are not? Even your American family knows the truth: Robert Hogan is dead. Do not cling to the idea of him so! Embrace Erlich Strauss. Go and do your duty to the Fatherland. Our Führer will take you under his wing and you will grow to be more than you ever imagined. Heil Hitler!" Pfeiffer encouraged Hogan to walk towards the street and as he did, his Air Corps attire melted and merged into Strauss' SS uniform.
Hogan became aware of another person walking beside him and found his Führer matching his pace. As they neared the main street, Hitler handed sheet of paper to Hogan/Strauss, an order which he quickly signed. Two SS soldiers were dragging a struggling person to the next lamp post. The person was quickly subdued and strung up to hang like a common criminal. Hogan watched, helpless, as the body twitched and jerked while the person valiantly tried to breathe. Soon the person succumbed as death took hold, the body still swaying from the efforts of the person to escape. Hogan finally reached the lamp post and looked up at the body, crying out in despair as he recognized the swinging form of Corporal Peter Newkirk.
Hitler quickly marched him on, leaving no time to grieve, presenting more orders to sign. As he dutifully added Strauss' signature to each page, the SS brought two more thrashing prisoners, and following Strauss' orders, strung them up to die. As the life left them, Hitler allowed him to approach the lamp post. He watched hope turn to loathing and betrayal in the eyes of Corporal Louis LeBeau and Sergeant Richard Baker as Hogan/Strauss stood there passively waiting while death took them too. With his last breath, LeBeau viciously voiced "Filthy Bosche!" before spitting at Strauss' feet.
Tears ran freely down Hogan's cheeks as Strauss authorized the execution of his former team one by one. Other camp prisoners, Allied officers he used to know, and members of his family were gathering around the edge of the mists and he could feel their hatred growing like a living beast. Hogan could hear them whispering, a chanting rising in volume as they circled him, the word "Traitor!" being repeated over and over, pulsing and echoing all around him until he felt like he was drowning in their disdain. He clawed at his SS uniform, trying to rid himself of the clothing which made him Erlich Strauss but it wouldn't come off. The buttons were fused and the cloth refused to rip. As he tore at the sleeves, rivulets of blood welled on his arms as if the uniform had become his own skin. Strauss was who he was now and 'Colonel Hogan' was just some costume to wear to hide his true self.
Hitler appeared at his side once more and gave him a set of orders. Strauss/Hogan signed with a shaking hand, knowing in his heart who was next to be condemned to death but unable to stop himself from carrying out his Führer's wishes. He didn't have long to wait until Sergeant Andrew Carter walked calmly to the next lamp post escorted by two more SS guards. As the soldiers tied Carter's hands and slipped the noose over his head, Carter looked at Strauss and asked, "Why, sir? Why are you doing this? Have you forgotten who you are? What we believe in? That we still believe in you?"
Strauss stood silently and watched the soldiers carry out his orders, numb to the center of his being. He was unable to find a voice to answer Carter's questions and didn't have answers for them anyways. Carter didn't struggle as he was lifted from the ground; just kept staring with total faith at his former commander. Soon his face turned red, then purplish-blue as his airway was constricted. Strauss watched as Carter mouthed one last silent word "Remember" and then he too was gone...
Hogan jerked awake, tangled in sweat-stained sheets. Tears streamed down his face and blood seeped into his pajama sleeves from deep scratches on his arms. He sat up and curled into a ball, rocking back and forth on the small cot as he repeated his mantra over and over under his breath.
"I am still Robert Hogan. I am still Robert Hogan. I am still Robert Hogan…"
Sleep went AWOL for the rest of the night.
A/N: The birthday ration information and details about the hangings of civilians were from www (dot) eyewitnesstohistory (dot) com/berlin (dot) htm