Hi, my dear readers,
Thank you so much for the big feedback. I knew that you would love the last chapter, and I'm absolutely certain that it will be the same with the new one, because f-i-n-a-l-l-y the scales fall from the eyes of our mastermind of the "Unsung Heroes". Yeah, even a genius like Hogan can be daft and blind sometimes – along the lines of 'I don't see what can't be'. And his realization will be a kind of shock for him.
And he isn't the only one, who gets a big surprise. At least two or the Heroes learn that 'Ol' Klink' is anything but the idiot they all took him for – and the way they learn of it is certainly a funny thing.
So, have fun with the new chapter,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 24 – Tiny shocks for everyone
Hogan overslept, not rousing in time for lunch, and only woke up during the afternoon. Schultz, who made another report to Klink, simply warmed up the food and even set up the table for him. Klink joined him for the very late lunch, sipping a cup of tea and carrying conversation about casual topics. Yet he was distracted – just like Hogan. Both men had learned more about each other that morning than they had done during the last, almost three, years, and even if both were almost relaxed it was obvious that Hogan remained a little bit wary. Klink couldn't blame him. If their roles were reversed, he wouldn't have reacted differently. Old habits die hard, and the distrust sat deep; at least in Hogan's case. Yes, the colonel knew in his heart and soul that Klink wouldn't betray him and his men, yet his mind was not so easy to convince. Experiences, training and natural wariness were difficult to switch off.
Yet the rest of the afternoon was spent side by side again; talking. Hogan remained in bed, Klink was sprawled in the big armchair that was usually placed in the corner with a reading lamp. It was obvious that the Kommandant felt better and that the bronchitis was wearing off.
Hogan was careful with how much he could reveal to Klink, on the other hand he learned a lot of what the Oberst had done for him and the others. They had a small dinner and went to bed early – like before, every man in his own, but in the late evening Hogan heard the soft steps of Klink coming nearer, shortly before he felt the mattress shift. And, like the evenings prior, the colonel whispered a soft "Good night, Willie," before he closed his eyes and relaxed utterly.
"Good night, Robert," came the gentle reply, then quietness spread through the room.
Hogan's sleep wasn't as peaceful as he may have assumed. Many missions he hadn't thought of for a long time rose from the depth of his subconscious, where he had sent them. Sometimes they played like a movie within his mind, sometimes they changed – and every time Klink was in them. The older man smiled, huffed, rebuked, glared or was frustrated, but every one of his appearances ended with a look of worry or affection.
The American officer woke up in the morning with a mixture of puzzlement, unease and the feeling he was missing a very important detail.
But one thing he didn't miss: The older man was wrapped around him like a blanket. The long arms held him with utter carefulness, his warm breath danced over Hogan's neck, which wasn't any longer bandaged, and he even had slipped one leg over those of the colonel. And, what shocked the younger man the most, it felt right.
Despite the fact that it was forbidden by law, and that he would usually have dismissed even the thought of enjoying a man's company like this, he relished in the warm proximity. It felt so good to not be alone and to be held, and it didn't matter that it was Klink who huddled up against him in his sleep. Sweet Lord, Hogan caught himself thinking that he even enjoyed this all because it was Klink who enveloped him in a way that would compromise them both without any chance of excuses. And this revelation really startled him. He would have to think about this as soon as he was given a chance, but for now he simply continued to savor this unusual cuddling.
The moment he felt Klink stirring, he pretended to still be asleep, and waited until his German counterpart had woken up fully, rose and went to the bathroom. But another thing hadn't slipped the American's attention. In those splendorous moments between sleep and waking up, Klink had tightened his arms around him and even snuggled closer to him; sighing in contentedness. Only after he'd left Morpheus' realm completely had he distanced himself and risen a minute later. And it had left Robert E. Hogan in utter confusion.
This 'something' he had been pondering for days now – and especially yesterday after their special talk in the late morning – became almost visible behind the shadows for a short moment, before it vanished again; teasing him with its presence that he couldn't grasp.
Like the days before, Klink dealt with his morning toilette and then Hogan did his own – slowly and with much effort. The Kommandant was feeling better and had decided to return to his office for at least a few hours to 'look what this Dummkopf had gotten the camp into'.
"Stay in bed, rest, cure yourself and do nothing reckless," he told Hogan while slipping his coat on; grimacing as his still healing left upper arm stung him mercilessly.
The American rolled his eyes. "You sound worse than my father," he complained, which made the Oberst chuckle. Their talk yesterday had raised the fledgling trust between them to a new level, and like this they were more comfortable around each other than ever before.
"Maybe your old man was right about keeping an eye on you," Klink teased.
"I'll get bored – more bored than before," Hogan groaned.
"Do you really think the paper-work I've to do is thrilling?" the Kommandant scoffed gently, while putting on his cap.
"We both know that you are more comfortable with doing this desk-job than I could ever be if I was in your place. And you at least have something to do," the colonel pouted. "I swear, the walls are closing up on me; I'll suffocate soon."
Klink groaned. "I've been spoiling you too much."
"I enjoyed your company," Hogan corrected him. "But remaining here now, with nothing to do, to learn, or to…"
"Learning!" The Oberst snapped his fingers. "Wait a minute." He vanished, only to return a short time later; carrying a book. "Here, something to read."
"I don't like 'Mein Kampf'," Hogan grumbled.
"Silly, this is a classic book, not trash."
The colonel looked up; surprised at the open dislike concerning Germany's 'first man' that Klink had uncharacteristically displayed. Usually, the Kommandant went rigid and pale as soon as the Führer was only mentioned. Maybe the fact that there weren't so many secrets between him and his senior POW anymore had galvanized his spine even more.
Taking the book in his hands, Hogan read the title. "E.T.A. Hoffmann's Geschichten (Hoffmann's tales)." He opened the book. "It's German."
"Yes, of course. Your German is very good, Robert, but sometimes a little bit rough. Maybe you can refine it this way."
The colonel chuckled. "Remind me to lend you a book, too, but in English."
"I would like this," Klink nodded. "I know that I've still some trouble with English here and there – especially concerning the idioms."
"Yet your enunciation and grammar are flawless."
"Thanks." He took his riding crop and cap. "I'm going to be back around midday. See you." With those words he gave the younger man a warm, gentle gaze and left.
Hogan pursed his lips. There it had been again – this special look in Klink's eyes. Something he seemed to have reserved only for him, and it had been shown more and more within the last days.
Putting the book aside, Hogan relaxed into the cushions and allowed his mind to completely wrap itself around the riddles he still had to solve: The riddle of Klink's further reason for supporting him and the riddle concerning the deep care Klink held for him.
Looking at the ceiling, Hogan let his mind wander – and the first things that appeared for his inner eye were Klink's soft smiles, the warmth and affection in his gaze and the gentle way he treated him. Hogan simply knew, deep in his gut, this behavior was a part of the further but still secret reason as to why the Oberst supported him. Klink was hiding something from him – something very important. And Hogan was a hairsbreadth away from revealing this secret. He could sense it, taste it even, but it didn't reveal itself to him, otherwise he would have recognized it by now.
Pursing his lips, he again pondered over everything his German counterpart had done for him within the last days. The key to the riddle lay somewhere in there; this much Hogan knew.
Klink had not only been protecting him for two years now, he had overgrown himself two times to save him. He had offered him shelter in his own quarters – in his own bed! – and watched his sleep to shelter or release him from the returning nightmares. He had held him in his arms while comforting him the first evening, when Hogan woke up to his first nightmares, and Klink had continued to do so within the last days. He remembered the night before the one prior, as he had his breakdown and the older man had secured him in his arms like…
Like he, Hogan, was the most important person in Klink's life.
The colonel frowned. Nonsense!
The Oberst cared for him, yes, despite all the trouble he had gone through because of Hogan, but to think that the older man had…
Had what, exactly?
Feelings?
Hogan snorted. Klink was after every skirt that came his way – okay, except for Burkhalter's sister, but this was understandable. Gertrude Linkmeyer was Mayra's German counterpart – at least in the colonel's opinion, despite the fact that Mayra was an attractive woman, contrary to Burkhalter's sister. If Mayra were the last woman on Earth and he, Hogan, the last man, he would travel to the other side of the planet to escape this Russian man-eater – and the same went for Klink and Frau Linkmeyer. That the older man had the strong urge to run away when this hag was near was more than understandable. But, otherwise, the Oberst tried everything to win himself a woman.
Well, his attempts at flirting were clumsy at best, and his eagerness to woo a female was almost slapstick, but he was a passable dancer, as Hogan had heard on a few occasions. Hell, Klink had given him two bottles of champagne to show his gratefulness that he, Hogan, had told him about the new landlady of the Hofbräu, whom the Oberst promptly hit on.
And there was also the time Klink dated Sofia Lindemann – a pretty redhead. They had seen each other for a month or so, and there had even been a lot of wagers between the POWs whether the Kommandant had finally found a woman who would put up with him. In the end she had left – like the other ladies Klink had tried to win for himself.
So, the whole idea of having 'feelings' for his male senior POW was out of question, but…
'Come back to bed, hon'…
Hogan frowned. These had been Klink's words as he woke up in the middle of the night while they'd been staying at the farm after the ambush of the air-fighters. Okay, Klink had been deeply asleep before and was still dead exhausted. In such situations you can mistake someone for another person. But then, the next morning, as Hogan mercilessly teased the older man about it, Klink's reactions had been… strange. First his outburst 'That wasn't a dream?' as Hogan confronted him with his nightly slip of calling him 'hon'. And then as he further teased the Kommandant over the earlier sleeping arrangement, Klink's whole reactions had become even more odd.
'That's our bed and…'
'D-d-d-don't say you meant it this way!'
'Sweet Lord, Willie, did you want something to have happened between us?'
The Oberst had flushed almost crimson red – and had done so a lot of times since then. Every time he, Hogan, had said something ambiguously, the Kommandant had blushed. And Klink wasn't this prudish.
'We can't hide in this little room forever,' Klink had said.
'No, of course not – but I wouldn't mind if we could stay here in this bed until this damn war is over.' Hogan's reply had made Klink blush until his face had had the color of a full-mellowed tomato.
'I care for you.'
Yes, it was obvious that his German counterpart cared for him – a lot! He did not have many memories between him being pressed under water by Hochstetter and coming to his senses here, in this very room, but something was scratching at the edge of his consciousness.
For a moment some fragments – pictures and a voice – seemed to break through the barrier that kept his memories away from his mind. He was held by someone, a window with a moving landscape was at the edge of his sight and he was cold. He was afraid – afraid of being denied breathing again and…
'Hush, Robert, there is no need to panic. You are safe now – enough air to breathe, no more pain, no threats.' And then something soft and warm was pressed against his temple. Something that felt like…
Like lips!
A kiss.
Someone had kissed him, but the voice had belonged to…
Hogan sat up. Were his memories fooling around with him, or had Klink really given him a kiss while they drove back to Stalag 13?
Impossible! It would mean that the older man indeed had feelings for him. Well, Klink felt something for him – friendship, respect, maybe even affection, but the latter was certainly a thing between comrades and not…
His gaze found the closed door that led to the bathroom – and out of the depths of his memories another image rose: He was sitting in that little room – on the toilette cover. Everything was a blur, everything hurt, everything was cold. He was so afraid and confused and then…
Then there was this tall, slender figure in front of him. Gentle hands peeled his clothes away, a well-known voice murmured gentle words of comfort. Long, tender fingers combed one of his locks out of his icy forehead…
He remembered that he was partly stripped and then…
Soft lips brushed over his forehead. 'You will be better soon, Robert. I'll take care of you, promise.'
Hogan gasped. Were his memories really playing pranks on him, or had Klink indeed kissed him? And if his mind wasn't making things up, then it had been the second time within a short range of time.
He thought he could remember a loud voice, followed by Klink's quiet 'Hush, Robert, it's only me, don't fret.' A long hand gently stroked over his left cheek, offering warmth and the promise of security. 'I rather die than let Hochstetter near you ever again.'
Suddenly another thing became clearer in Hogan's mind: He had stood beneath a shower – and somehow he knew that he had freaked out. There had been new panic and… And Klink had pulled him into a careful yet firm embrace; holding him, rocking him like a child, giving him something to latch on while he had laid his own head against that of the younger man.
'It's okay, Rob. You are safe.'
Hogan stared into the corner and therefore at nothing. He wasn't sure what were real memories and what was made-up by his still blocked mind, but one thing he knew for certain: Klink had definitely done far more for him than even a very good friend would do. And not only during their way back to Stalag 13, or while he, Hogan, had been medically treated.
He remembered how the Oberst had wrapped his arms around him while they slept – not only this morning, but also before. He had dreamed of those long arms around him and a few times within the last nights, when he woke up for a few seconds, he thought he remembered that he had been held in a tender embrace.
'General Burkhalter just arrived and if he sees you and Colonel Hogan cuddling together like ferrets, he maybe gets the right idea about your fierce protectiveness concerning the colonel. – I mean, he gets the WRONG idea…'
That had been Schultz's words as he tore Klink out of bed shortly before Burkhalter arrived the day after his, Hogan's, rescue. Had Schultz made a slip of the tongue as he announced that the general would get the right idea, finding Klink lying in bed beside his senior POW; snuggling up with him? The large Bavarian had corrected himself afterwards, but it had sounded far too hasty – false. So Schultz' first statement was the right one, which spoke for itself.
Then there was the way Klink coddled him. It was one thing to nurse someone back to health or to spoil him – and the Oberst had pampered him more or less; paying enormous sums from his own wallet so that Langenscheidt could buy boiling hens, fruits and substantial bread on the black market. Hogan wasn't naive. He knew that by now you needed a lot of money to get something as luxurious as those things in Germany. Klink had also denied himself the comfort of his own bed and had left it to Hogan to offer him a nice, warm, pleasant place to stay. He had lent him his housecoat, had broken the rule of 'lights out' during the nights only to give him, Hogan, a nightlight in the hope it would keep his nightmares at bay. He had shared private details with him, literally soothed him with milk and honey – two things that were absolutely rare within Germany by now.
This all were things which spoke their own language – a language Hogan hadn't thought of before. Hell, he had ignored the many little details and hints, because the truth behind them hadn't occurred to him until now – or had been ignored on subconscious purpose: The gentle gestures, the smiles, the deep warmth in those blue orbs, which looked at him with so much affection.
Not only affection – this was more!
He remembered the moment he teased Klink that Burkhalter's price to get Hochstetter out of the way forever could be the general's demand that the Oberst should marry his sister Gertrude. Klink had paled dramatically, before he had stated that he would pay this price if only… If only Hogan was safe. The colonel had been speechless for a second, before he had blurted out, 'Don't tell me you would endure such a fate only for me.' Klink had looked at him with this special gaze – and Hogan let his mind wrap itself around this one glance the older man had given him.
Those blue eyes had shone with fondness at him, with so much devotion and love that…
Hogan gasped.
Love!
That had lain in Klink's eyes.
A deep, unwavering love!
The American sat there on the bed for more than a minute; his thoughts tumbled over.
No, this couldn't be! This was laughable at best! Klink couldn't be in love with him. It was impossible, crazy – insane! Yet…
Yet there was so much that spoke for this theory to be true. The gentle kisses Hogan began to more clearly remember now. The offered and given comfort that was far more intense than you can expect even from a close friend. Klink's raging fury whenever it came to Hogan's injuries or when he learned more details of what had been done to the colonel. Klink punching Hochstetter, demanding answers from Burkhalter…
And… hadn't Klink touched him more often than usual? Hell, even during their serious talk yesterday, the Kommandant had slung an arm around his shoulder, steadied him with gentle grips and soft brushes; giving him, again, a kind of hold that was far beyond anything else.
'I will never do anything that could cost you your life.' – 'Robert, please don't fear for yourself – or your men. Neither you, nor they are in danger. Not if I can prevent it.'
What if the older man really had feelings for him? Strong feelings? What if it was really love?
"This… this can't happen," Hogan whispered, and felt, to his horror, his heart beginning to beat quicker – just like it had done a few times now whenever Klink smiled at him so softly. Like it had done as Klink told him in a roundabout way that he would accept the sacrifice of marrying Burkhalter's sister for Hogan's sake. Like it had done whenever the Oberst gave him this special gaze.
The colonel carefully rubbed his face. "Robert, you're crazy," he murmured. "Klink cares for you, all right, and he wants to protect you, but don't assume, from his words and reactions, something that could only lead to a catastrophe. And, by the way, you are not gay – nor is he. End of story."
He carefully turned on his right side, yet he knew that it was impossible to brush aside the suspicions of the last minutes and forget them. His curiosity had been awoken. A part of him would watch out for further reactions from his German counterpart. He would keep a close eye on the older man; trying to collect more hints which could prove that he had imagined things or… Or that he had been right!
Hogan sighed. He really had more important things to do, like thinking of a way to convince his men that Klink was their ally.
Yet his mind couldn't focus on anything else than a pair of blue eyes and a gentle voice that whispered soundlessly through his memories.
Groaning, cursing and damning everything to hell, Hogan gave up only few minutes later. Desperate to distract himself and find some clear thoughts again, he took the book. Maybe some reading would restore his sane mind. He knew this book, but only in English. Maybe it would be interesting to read it in another language. And, by the way, it would save him from wracking his brain even more.
Determined, he opened and began to read – but neither his mind, nor his heart were in it.
*** HH ***
In the early midday, Hogan heard someone coming into the quarters. First he thought it was only LeBeau like during the last days, because the tiny Frenchman appeared to make lunch around this time of day. But this time Louis wasn't alone. Relieved that his mind was finally forced to focus on something else, a large smile spread over Hogan's still colorful face as he recognized his closest friend. "Kinch!" he exclaimed. "You're sent by the heavens! I'm going crazy, alone here."
Kinchloe removed his cap and chuckled softly. "It's like solitary confinement – only you have it more comfortable here."
"You can say that," LeBeau nodded, while stripping off his jacket. "When I see these things they call stock-beds in the barracks…" He shook his head, but smirked at his superior officer.
"Nonetheless, I'm bored out of my mind," Hogan more or less lied. "Even a book doesn't entertain me anymore." He lifted the book, and Kinch cocked his head as he saw the title.
"Hoffmann's tales – in German. Let me guess: A favor from our dear Kommandant."
'Dear Kommandant'… Jesus, his pulse wasn't rising at those words! Hogan took a deep breath. 'Calm down, Robert, calm down, this is c-r-a-z-y!'
"He thinks I can smooth my German like this," he replied and put the book beside him. "It was thoughtful of him and I do enjoy some good literature, but this permanent inaction is making me antsy by now." – 'Maybe this is the reason for those insane ideas I've got,' he added in his thoughts.
LeBeau opened a paper bag he carried with him and laid out pajamas and a new long housecoat. "Here, made of the parachute silk and from thicker material we got to sew civil clothes."
Hogan beamed at him. "Thank you, Louis. This here is really overdue." He pulled at his usual pajama; glad that he had something to change into.
"Yes, mon Colonel. And it's better than wearing Klink's clothes."
"Yet it was kind of him to offer the colonel something from his own wardrobe. I don't think that there are many POW-camp commanders who would be this thoughtful," Kinch said. LeBeau only grimaced, before he took the items and brought them into the bathroom.
Kinch took the chair Hogan pointed to invitingly, while LeBeau braced himself at the side of the dressing table's top after he returned. "Concerning your boredom, Colonel, I may have something for you," Kinchloe began. "London radioed us a quarter hour ago. As it seems, the Germans are transferring a lot of cargo to the middle east. The most trains and even truck convoys are starting from the Rhine-area near Düsseldorf, Cologne and Neuss, but also from Stuttgart and Heilbronn."
Hogan frowned. "There are a lot of rumors that the Messerschmitt ME-262 is built in different facilities and its final assembly is done in different places, too. Maybe those transports are connected with it and they want to increase the production."
"That would be bad. The ME-262 isn't the best of bomber-types, but a very quick interceptor and fighter because of its new kind of drive. It performs best as a defender, but fortunately until now the Germans only use it as a kind of quick-bomber," Louis commented. "And how bad this went was shown last summer in France. The Allies made quick work of those birds." He grinned broadly.
Hogan nodded slowly. "Yeah, but with half of Germany laying in ruins, Hitler has maybe changed his tactics and wants to defend what remains. And then we've a problem. While I was in London, Colonel Forbes told me that the Germans eliminated the problems with the heavy jet-drive of the ME-262 and that the fighter is more or less perfect by now. If Hitler chooses to use the aircraft for what it is constructed, our boys will have serious trouble."
"No, Hitler still wants to use it for attacks, especially now after they found a solution for the problem with the undercarriage that shortens the needed length of tarmac. Like this it can take off and land almost everywhere. This new generation has entered the stage of serial-production – and the production will start somewhere during the next month," a well-known voice with a Saxonian accent spoke from the doorstep.
Hogan looked up – and firmly ignored the short jump of his heart as he met those deep blue eyes. This. Was. Mad!
Kinch had risen hastily, while LeBeau whirled around. Both men paled as they saw Oberst Klink standing there – coat open, cap and riding crop clasped beneath his right arm for once.
"The gentlemen should know that the new Messerschmitt aircraft ME-262 V5 is more maneuverable than the prior version. Its range-ability has increased to more than 1000 km and the top-speed is approx. 870 km/h. Therefore it's a lot quicker than any plane of the Allies." He entered the room and threw his cap and the riding cop on the dress table. He looked tired and his eyes were reddened again. Obviously his resuming of duty had been a little bit too hasty. "And, like I said, it has entered the stage of serial-production."
Kinchloe and LeBeau stared, shocked, at him. Klink had caught them speaking about military secrets they couldn't have learned, being POWs for so long, and this was his reaction?
"So, London already knew about the newest version when we were there," the Kommandant addressed Hogan, while two jaws were about to hit the floor. "Pray tell me why the P51 we stole together from England was equipped with the drive of an old Messerschmitt?"
The colonel looked with big eyes at him and Klink sighed, "Please, Hogan, don't play the innocent. Of course Burkhalter told me about this detail after the crashed P51 was canvassed."
"Do you really think the brass would let me fly away with a brand-new plane and deliver it to the Germans?" Hogan deadpanned wryly.
"No, of course not. I anticipated something like this. Let me guess, the London brass were already prepared for everything as we arrived – including a 'special' P51."
Hogan grinned at him almost sheepishly. "Well… Yes."
LeBeau squeaked as he heard his superior and friend admitting very much more with this 'yes' than the fact that he knew about the 'edited' P51, but was ignored.
"And why all this?" Klink asked, really curious now, but before Hogan could answer, the Kommandant snapped the fingers of his right hand. "Of course – the espionage-ring in London. You said we needed support from them to fulfill our task and I brought you to Berlin's contact – a chance for your people to reveal the agents."
The grin broadened into a big smirk. "Now you gained an additional 50 score-points from the quiz-master."
Kinchloe snapped for breath like a fish thrown on land.
Klink rolled his eyes. "Clever – and so typical of you. Like this you not only eliminated an espionage-ring, you also made certain that Goering didn't get his hands on a real P51 but also continued to think that the Allies' technical standard is far behind ours; using even captured motors to equip their air-fighters. Yet, regrettably, with the new jet-fighters we're really better – if Hitler would take advantage of its full potential. But he still won't do it – and this may be the Allies' last chance of winning the war."
Hogan smiled shortly. Well, if he had really been waiting for Klink to prove that he was a true ally, that proof had been delivered just right now. The Oberst did more now than simply cover for him and the others – he gave away information about Hitler's newest plans. This was a completely new level of support Klink offered.
"Do you have any information about this planned serial-production?"
Klink nodded gravely while stripping off his coat and throwing it beside Hogan's feet on the bed. "Yes." He gave his American counterpart a questioning gaze and Hogan nodded the tiniest bit. Yes, he understood the older man's wordless message. 'Do you trust me now?'
'Yes, I do!'
Then Hogan forced the wave of relief and soft joy aside, while his sense of duty mercifully kicked in. "So, the bird is going into serial-production. How so? As far as we know there are no new facilities for something like this."
"This is exactly what London should think," the Oberst said.
Kinch and LeBeau simultaneously turned their heads and glanced, gaping, from one officer to the other and back. Instead of freaking out that Klink caught them talking about secret German plans, the colonel was discussing a former mission with Klink, revealing Underground-activities and now even asking the Kommandant about more information about further output of the blasted jet-fighter? And how did the 'Kraut' know about them staying in contact with the Allied High Command?
"But unfortunately the truth looks different," Klink added. "Very much so. Goering and the others were able to build a new project directly under the Allies' nose."
Kinch and LeBeau looked at him, flabbergasted – not because of those details, but because of the fact Klink spoke of them.
Hogan shortly pursed his lips. "Let me guess: An underground facility?"
James and Louis quickly glanced back. Did Hogan really expect a truthful answer to that question?
Klink nodded. "Yes. And it's almost ready to start with production. At a rough estimate the output will be 1000 jet-fighters per month."
"What?" Hogan looked, shocked, at him.
Another sigh escaped the Kommandant. "The whole production is about to be consolidated at one place. Like this it is more efficient and the output can be increased. Hitler plans new Luftwaffe squadrons with thousands of the ME-262."
Kinch and LeBeau had stopped looking at the two colonels every time questions and answers were made. With eyes large as saucers they stared at each other. What. Was. Going. On. Here?
Hogan gulped. This was not only bad, this was a nightmare about to come true.
"How do you know about it?" he asked quietly.
"I spoke with Burkhalter this morning," Klink replied. "He called me to ask if you've received his report, which I affirmed. He was in an incredibly good mood, and because the fat desk-jockey is only in a good mood when something 'glorious' has happened, I thought that something was off and asked him." He snorted. "I've rarely heard him that satisfied and almost happy. As it seems, the brass is convinced the inevitability of losing the war can be averted because of the newest ME-262 going into serial-production. The project is called REIMAHG – which means Reichsmarschall Hermann Goering – and the responsible taskmaster informed the brass yesterday that the first fighters can be produced in the middle of February."
Kinch and LeBeau glanced, thunderstruck, back at Klink. Was the Kommandant indeed giving them secret information about a large project that would endanger the Allies like nothing before? Had someone hit him on the head, or what?
"And Burkhalter was happy about it," Hogan assumed.
"Yes, of course," Klink growled. "The whole project of mass production was ready to start almost two years ago, but because of the many air-attacks of the Allies there was no chance to produce the plane in a large factory. Yet space is what you need when you're building 13-m-wide air-fighters en masse, and then Goering came up with the idea of an underground facility."
"And the project is almost done," Hogan whispered; highly alarmed. "London has to learn about it immediately!"
Kinch's and LeBeau's eyes were about to bulge out of their heads, while they glanced back at their superior. Were they misunderstanding something here, or were those two indeed exchanging secret information with each other? Klink shouldn't know about their contact to London at all – and he especially shouldn't tell them about the whole project!
"I agree," Klink murmured; frustrated.
Kinchloe gasped; unable to formulate even one single word. Klink wanted London to learn about all this?
"But please don't ask me where this damn factory is," the Kommandant continued; his gaze fixed on the American colonel. "I didn't dare ask Burkhalter so as to not make him suspicious."
Hogan nodded slowly. "Understandable. Yet we've to get this information as quick as possible."
Klink snorted. "Good luck. This whole thing is more secret than the hidden entrances to London's Tower." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "But something as large as such a factory must leave tracks – even if it is beneath the earth. There must be tarmacs which can only be placed on the ground and are therefore clearly visible. And, besides, this damn thing didn't build itself alone. Someone must have done it – a lot of 'someones'. And knowing Hitler he certainly used slave laborers and prisoners for this kind of work. So many people need a place to live – more or less – and they need nourishment. Maybe your contacts can find something out by searching for tracks of keeping so many people in one place."
Hogan nodded slowly. "Yes, maybe they…"
"One. Damn. Moment!" Kinch had lifted both hands and had raised his voice; finally recovering his ability to speak. "Would one of the two gentlemen please tell us what the hell is going on here?"
Both officers looked at him as if they had forgotten all about his and LeBeau's presence.
"What do you mean, Kinch?" Hogan asked; mind absent.
"You two are discussing knowledge our intelligence would kill for to gain information about," LeBeau said; thunderstruck. His dark eyes looked up at the camp's Kommandant. "Shouldn't you keep something like this a secret? Or at least freak out that we learned about it – we, POWs?"
Klink and Hogan exchanged a look.
"You haven't told them?" the Oberst wanted to know, and the colonel took a deep breath.
"No, I hadn't a chance until now." He turned his attention back to Kinch and LeBeau, who looked at him in alert. "Calm down, fellas," he said softly. "And maybe you should sit down somewhere, because I've news for you that could pull the rug away from under your feet."
"With your permission I'd rather stand, Colonel," Kinch replied; crossing his arms in front of his chest. Somehow he knew that he wouldn't like what he would hear now. Klink had spoken of Hogan's 'contacts' and of 'London'. And they had discussed a former mission of Hogan's. This only could mean that the German officer knew about the whole operation and… No! Impossible! The colonel couldn't have given them all away to Klink. The mere thought was insane.
Hogan sighed, exchanged another look with Klink, and addressed his men, "Boys, I know it sounds crazy but… Klink has more or less known about us for almost two years now."
Kinchloe felt dizzy. NO! This wasn't happening!
"And he is on our side!" Hogan added.
Silence.
Utter and unmistakable silence.
Then Kinch, absolutely in denial, said slowly, "This is a joke, isn't it? I mean, what should the Kommandant know about us, Colonel? That we love baseball? That we want to set up a kind of tournament here, but we haven't decided until now if it should be about volleyball or baseball? Or do you…"
"Ki-inch," Hogan interrupted him gently with the kind of sing-song he only used if he wanted to drive a point home. "I speak of our missions. Colonel Klink has known about them for a long time now – and he's covered for us, laid false tracks, stalled for time for us or simply kept details secret which would have thrown us into such deep waters we would have drowned. Without him, we would have all been arrested, questioned, tortured and executed months ago."
LeBeau gaped at the tall German officer, while Kinch cocked his head; tensed and ready to do anything to keep his friends – and his obviously mad superior – safe.
Klink saw the disbelief, distrust and even rising anger in the two POWs' eyes, and rose to speak, "Sergeant, Corporal, I know that you may be thinking I abused Colonel Hogan's condition to trick him into admitting his identity and your mission. I also know that you – and everyone within this camp – have good reasons to distrust, despise and even hate members of the Wehrmacht, the Gestapo or SS."
"You can say that," LeBeau murmured under his breath; loathing shimmered in his eyes but, to Hogan's relief, it obviously wasn't directed at Klink.
The Oberst sighed soundlessly, before he continued. "I also realize that you have little respect for me – the man who is your jailer and belongs to the enemy. There are so many grudges and suspicions towards my people that you certainly have a hard time acknowledging that I, personally, am not your enemy. I can only ask you to believe me – and Colonel Hogan. I'm really on your side – I was more or less from the beginning. I realized, a few months after Colonel Hogan's arrival, that the odd incidents in the area were increasing in frequency. I knew that something very strange was going on. Then I got fragments of what he was doing." He looked at Hogan. "I got more and more hints, puzzle parts, evidence… So I had to make a decision and I made one: To his and the Allies' advantage."
Again none of the two POWs said something, and Hogan took a deep breath. "Kinch, LeBeau, please have a seat. I think this talk will last longer than anticipated."
Klink cleared his throat. "Maybe you should also call Newkirk, Carter and Baker over, Hogan. Then you won't have to explain everything two times."
"And how do you know you can trust him?" LeBeau burst out; his temper got the better of him like so often. Nonchalantly, he pointed at Klink while glaring at Hogan. "This can also be a big trap, you know!"
"Yes, I know," Hogan nodded. "But Colonel Klink convinced me that he isn't playing a foul game, and just right now he even proved it to you by giving us these details about Hitler's latest project. He…"
"He is a damn Kraut!" Louis raged.
"Yes, he is a German – like so many of our allies and supporters," Hogan answered softly. "He is the German who risked his life for me and you many times over. He is the German who was ready to sacrifice himself to protect me. He is the German who covered for us, sent the Gestapo and other doubting members of the German army on goose hunts over and over again, and shielded us against vengeance and abuse. He is the German who vowed to protect and defend his fatherland – a fatherland that has been almost destroyed by the madman in Berlin. He is one of those Germans who want their country back – the land before the insanity began to twist everything. You two and I quickly realized that Colonel Klink is no Nazi. He never was and never will be. And so he fights in his own way – by covering for us, turning a blind eye and deaf ear on anything and distracting those who were far too close on our tail." He looked firmly first at Kinch, then at LeBeau. "Not one of us would still be alive if it wasn't for Colonel Klink."
LeBeau bit his lips; frowning deeply. "And you believe this?" he asked, thunderstruck.
"What he did and still does speaks for itself," Hogan answered calmly, before he looked up at the older man. "Could you please order Newkirk, Carter and Baker over? You're right. I think they all should learn it at once, at the same time."
"Spares nerves, doesn't it?" Klink deadpanned and left the room to give the order; knowing that the next hour would be rather unpleasant…
TBC…
Well, I hope the last part was something to laugh. As I wrote it, I imagined how LeBeau and Kinch looked for and backwards between the two colonels in the classical slapstick-modus – even if the top is rather serious.
The secret underground facility to produce the new Messerschmidt en-mass is a true occasion that began in 1943. The facility was built by thousands of slave-workers which were partly even simply kidnapped in conquered countries. The spread production of the air-fighter should be pooled on one place to increase the output, and to hide it from the allies, the facility was placed in a hill that already had some mining-tunnels which had been used centuries earlier. The serial-production began in February 1945 and more than 1000 fighters took the air in the following weeks, but – fortunately too late to turn the fate's wheel for the Nazis. I reveal more about its location and what happens during the story, because to delay the serial-production and to sabotage it as much as possible will be a new task for the "Heroes".
Given the above mentioned historical facts, Klink's revelation is more than the simple support he gave Hogan and his men until now. Klink enters now a more active role in standing up against the regime, and his assistance will increase in a way that takes even Hogan by surprise (and you, maybe, too).
Concerning Hogan's realization of his German counterpart's feelings – I hope it was as you imagined it (or eventually even better). Of course our colonel is shocked about it, especially after he has to admit that a big part of him reacts to it anything but negative. For days now his body takes a kind of own life whenever Will smiles at him or gives him this special glance, and this is only the beginning of the road Hogan had stepped on without being aware of it.
I hope, you loved the new chapter, and I can already promise a turbulent next chapter – after all, then all members of the "Unsung Heroes" are ALL going to be flabbergasted about the changes.
Like always I'm absolutely curios what you think about the new update.
Have a nice rest of the week,
The next chapter comes eventually at Sunday,
Love
Yours Starflight