Chapter 12:
It took about four hours for Kinch to gather and collect all the background information on Buckley. London surprisingly had been the first one to report back to him before the underground did. Once the facts had been compiled onto one sheet of paper, he made his way back into the barracks, closed the tunnel entrance, and approached Thomason, who was leaning against Carter and Newkirk's bunk. The colonel turned his head to his new second in command.
"What did they say?" He asked. "Did you hear back from both of them?"
"Nothing good, Colonel," Kinch said, handing over the sheet of paper. "Not only is this guy wanted by Hitler, but he's also currently one of the FBI's most wanted."
"Oh boy," Carter said, sitting at the table with LeBeau and Kalina. Newkirk stood off to the technical sergeant's left smoking a cigarette.
"That's a bad sign, mates." Newkirk added, taking a drag.
"That's a very bad sign," Thomason said. He turned his eyes downward to the paper in his hands and began to read.
"What's FBI?" Kalina asked.
"Federal Bureau of Investigation. They're the big dogs back in the States. They only get involved if someone becomes a national threat. Or in this case, a worldwide threat." Kinch explained.
"If even those blokes are after this guy, then we really are in great danger," the Englishman said.
The little Klink hugged Hogan's jacket tightly to her chest and swallowed a large lump in her throat. She turned her head to Thomason and listened to him give the report of London's and the underground's findings.
"Captain Gary Antonio Buckley. Six feet tall, 163 pounds, and thin built with dark brown hair and bright green eyes. 27 years old and resides in Great Falls, Montana. Commanded the 486th Fighter Squadron. Tortured to insanity by interrogation methods done at a POW camp in Northern Germany and escaped during the night after brutally murdering the camp's kommandant. Suspected murderer of six other kommandants, four Gestapo officers, and Allied flyers identified as Major John Winslow, Colonel Peter Hackney, Lieutenant Harold Spencer, Corporal Melvin Watson, and Colonel Kurt Henderson. Expected to be armed and extremely dangerous. Last seen in Frankfurt wearing a Kriegsmarine commander uniform headed east," he read.
LeBeau swallowed a knot in his throat. "Hammelburg is east of Frankfurt," he said, shaky.
Carter and Kalina exchanged fearful looks with one another, then turned their eyes back to Thomason.
"You mean he's headed towards here?" The young sergeant exclaimed.
"It doesn't state specifically Stalag 13, but it does look like he's traveling in Hammelburg's direction," Thomason said, handing the sheet of paper back to Kinch. "At the bottom of the paper is a warning from both London and the FBI stating that if we intend on getting this guy back to Great Britain for medical care that three men accompany him at all times. Armed and ready to shoot if necessary."
"I already have Otto sending out a group of agents tonight to scope the area for this guy. They're to report to me if they find him nearby." The radioman reported.
"How the bloody hell are we gonna do this, then? March right up to him and ask him to surrender?" Newkirk asked, with frustration.
"The man was tortured to insanity, Newkirk. Using logic is out the window," Kinch said.
"Sergeant Kinchloe is right," the colonel said. "If we're going to follow Colonel Hogan's orders, we're going to have to use force. That means tackling, knocking out, smothering with chloroform, anything to disarm or render Buckley unconscious until we have him in custody."
"How are we going to do that?" LeBeau asked, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Anyone here know what a ninja is?" Thomason questioned, crossing his arms.
Everyone around the room slowly raised their hand, unsure of where their new commander was taking this.
"Sir," the Englishman began. "I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but what the bloomin' hell do ninjas have to do with this?"
"I mean we've got one way to capture Buckley safely, and one way only," Thomason explained. "One that requires immense stealth, precision, and remarkable assassination skills."
"You mean you want...you want us to...you mean be…" Carter was cut off by Thomason.
"Gentlemen...and darlin'...if we wanna catch this guy and do it safely, we'll have to act as ninjas ourselves."
Hours passed since then, and Thomason was sitting at the table trying to complete a German crossword puzzle in the evening newspaper. He was trying to figure out what 'gewässer zwischen Südamerika und Europa' meant, when Newkirk came inside and lay a pile of papers beside the colonel's arm. Thomason glanced over, flipped through the documents, then turned his eyes upward at the Englishman. (1)
"What is this?" He asked, flipping through the papers again.
"Work detail Ol' Klink wants you to arrange. He's ordering us to fix a gravel road that fell victim to one of our air raids last month," Newkirk said.
"Am I colonel, or some damn secretary back at the Pentagon?"
"I didn't know you worked at the Pentagon before the war."
"I didn't...I was a bellhop at the Biltmore on Anastasia Avenue."
Before either one could continue, the door to the private quarters opened, and Kalina emerged into the main area. Her hair hung lifelessly and appeared to still be half asleep. She sat down on Thomason's right and hugged Hogan's bomber jacket close to her as if it were her baby blanket she still slept with.
"Hey, little mate. I thought you were gonna lie down and take a little nap," Newkirk said, his eyes full of concern.
"I can't sleep," Kalina answered, with fatigue.
"That phenobarbital isn't working, is it."
"No, it's working. I'm not having nightmares anymore, it's just...they're not gone entirely. Every time I close my eyes I see Colonel Hogan," she gave a small smile. "He's smiling and talking and laughing, and I run to him to give him a hug...then it turns bad. Before I'm able to reach him, he vanishes and turns into Major Bahnsen. He starts cackling hysterically, and I wake myself up...then it starts all over again."
"He's not gonna lay so much as one finger on you," Thomason said firmly. "I promised Colonel Hogan that I would protect you and his boys at all costs, and I intend on keeping that promise to him. You five were everything to him."
Kalina nodded softly and sniffled. "I can't see him, I can't hear his voice, I can't hug him and tell him how much I love him...I miss him. I miss my other papa," she answered, meek.
"I know what'll cheer you up," Newkirk said, taking a seat. "How about I tell you about my worst nightmare. But it stays between the three of us, got it?"
The little Klink nodded.
"I was at the end of high school when I had it," he began. "My graduating class and I were all getting ready for our senior prom. Abiball you call it here. I had a date with this gorgeous blonde. Most beautiful bird I'd ever seen. I wanted to impress her, so I got the fanciest suit, the best corsage you could imagine, everything was going as well as planned. Well, I get to the girl's house and knocked on the door. She opens it wearing this beautiful light blue ball gown, but she starts laughing at me right out of the blue. Guess why?"
"You had a giant Pickel on your nose?" Kalina asked. (2)
"Worse. I was standin' there in me bleedin' underwear."
Kalina tried to hide the smile forcing itself onto her face. She buried her mouth into the collar of Hogan's jacket and attempted to swallow down her giggles.
"Go ahead and laugh. You're the only one I'll allow it for," the Englishman said, a grin coming across his own face. It widened when he heard her laugh louder. It was the first time since they lost Hogan that she giggled, and it was music to his ears. "You have any idea how many years I went double checking I was wearing a belt everyday?" He continued. "I still check at least twice a day."
"That's nothing compared to my worst nightmare: waking up in the middle of the night to find a serial killer standing over my bedside...don't read the crime section in the newspaper. You'll regret it for the rest of your life." Thomason replied. "That, or the one where I wake up and find out that I've somehow turned into a girl."
"Okay, now that one I have to know," Kalina said, her eyes lighting up like stars.
As the colonel was about to begin, the door to the barracks opened, and Carter and LeBeau stepped inside. The corporal closed the door behind him as the sergeant made his way to the table.
"What are you guys talking about?" Carter asked.
"We're talking about our worst nightmares to make little Kalina here feel better," Thomason said.
"I had a nightmare once of getting stuck in the air vents at school...no, that actually happened."
"I'm gonna regret asking this, but why were you in the school air vents, Andrew?" Newkirk asked, his facial expression already holding dread.
"My friends and I wanted to see if we could crawl through from one classroom to another," the young man answered.
"Why does that not surprise me?"
"I had a nightmare where I woke up in Paris and was married to Hochstetter," LeBeau said.
"Now that ain't a nightmare; that's bloody Hell," Newkirk said.
Kalina gave a silent laugh, when the five of them heard the fake bunk open. They turned their eyes in the direction of their hidden tunnel entrance and watched Kinch crawl up from underneath the earth. He swung his legs over the wooden bars, closed the entrance, then turned to his friends with a sheet of paper in his hand.
"They got him, Colonel," Kinch reported. "We know where Buckley is."
"Where?" Thomason asked, more sounding like a demand.
"About seven miles north of here. In a little town called Thulba. One of our agents recognized him when he came into his store. Last seen wearing a Kriegsmarine captain's uniform. Thinks he might be jumping on a bus headed here tonight. Buckley seemed to be rummaging through the free city maps near the door."
"Did he say what time that bus is leaving?"
"No, Sir, but he knows the schedule pretty well. The next bus that comes to Hammelburg tonight is at 2245 hours. There won't be another bus that comes tonight until 0400 hours."
"Which means Buckley will be here come morning," Thomason rose to his feet, put his arms behind his back, and began to tap his foot. "Alright boys...and girl, this is the moment we've been waiting for. Tomorrow night we attack. I'm talking guns, I'm talking bullet proof vests, I'm talking just about every weapon in the book. I'm talking FBI style. We'll need every advantage on our side if this is going to go down the way we want it to. Got it?"
Hogan's men and Kalina simply stared at the man, giving the room an eerie, unwelcoming silence. Thomason cleared his throat before speaking in a soft tone. "You don't have all those gizmos and gadgets, do you."
"We're a small business, Sir," Kinch answered.
"You want the big stuff, you have to call in London to do the job." Newkirk added, taking a drag on a newly lit cigarette.
"Or the Gestapo," Carter said.
"Well, we already know the Gestapo's and London's opinions on capturing Buckley," Thomason said, his face hardening. "I don't care what the Gestapo's or London's preferences are, there's one way I'm running this assignment and only one way: the Colonel Hogan way."
The five before him all gave heartfelt smiles while both remembering their beloved friend and feeling admiration for their new commander. They were all touched at the fact Thomason was dead serious on running the operation as much like Hogan as possible. And they were certain that Hogan was beaming with pride from wherever he was, too. They would always miss Hogan. No one would ever be able to replace him in their hearts, but they could not have asked for a better man to take over Hogan's operation than Thomason. Their cowardly colonel was alright for a new commander.
"The Colonel would have been very honored to hear that, Sir," Kinch said for all of them.
"He would not have wanted anyone else to take over his position other than you, Colonel." LeBeau added sincerely.
The officer's eyes welled with unshed tears as a wide smile grew on his face. He hung his head as he blushed and sniffled. "You guys are just trying to make me cry now, aren't you," he said.
That got the group of five to laugh.
Thomason's pride turned into intense determination and placed his leg on top of the table while resting his right arm across it. "Gang," he said. "Let's make Colonel Hogan proud. Operation Buckley starts now."
(1) Gewässer zwischen Südamerika und Europa - body of water between South America and Europe
(2) Pickel - pimple