RAMPS
Chapter 9
Luft Stalag 13
March 29, 1945
Carter was playing solitaire. He had one eye on the cards laid out on the table and one eye on the colonel. He was so engrossed in his two tasks that he started when LeBeau opened the door and walked in.
"Sorry, I startled you, mon ami. I came to relieve you."
Carter glanced at his watch. "He's still asleep," he said as he followed LeBeau into the common room. "Where is everyone?" he asked, seeing the barracks was empty except for the two sick men who were in their bunks.
"Out working. All over the place." LeBeau walked over to his bunk. "Any change?" He asked as he grabbed a cloth, which he brought over to the sink. He quickly dampened it and headed into Hogan's office.
"It's been quiet," Carter answered through the threshold. "He finally fell asleep. Honesty Louis, last night I didn't think he was…"
"Andrew!"
"What's wrong?" Carter rushed over.
"His fever broke. Feel!"
Carter placed his hand on the colonel's forehead. "I think his breathing is better, Louis. I'm going over to the infirmary!"
"Go." LeBeau turned back to the colonel, who was still fast asleep.
Carter paused a moment to check on his two hut mates. He told them the good news and then hightailed it over to the medical hut.
Wilson's assistant was on duty when Carter knocked on the door and then walked in.
"Fiske, where's Wilson?"
Alarmed, Fiske put down the instruments he was sterilizing. Not wanting to disturb his patients, he walked over to where Carter stood. He immediately noticed Carter was out of breath. "He's in the rec hall tending to the patients over there. What's wrong? Is it Colonel Hogan?" he asked, dreading the answer.
"Yes. But, it looks good. We think his fever broke."
Fiske breathed a sigh of relief. "Go over to the rec hall and tell Wilson. I have to finish here. And make sure you let us know what happens."
"Will do, pal. Thanks." Carter then sped over to the rec hall.
Wilson grabbed his medical bag and followed Carter back to barracks. "Did you take his temperature?" The medic asked LeBeau.
"No, he's still sleeping. But his forehead is cooler."
Wilson walked over and watched the rise and fall of the colonel's chest. He bent down and gently put the stethoscope against it and listened for a moment. He motioned for Carter and LeBeau to go into the common room. "He sounds better. Don't disturb him. Call me when he wakes up."
"I'm going to find the others," Carter took off.
Wilson turned away from LeBeau, who noticed the medic wiping his eyes.
"You all right, Wilson?" LeBeau patted the medic on the back.
"Who me? Yep. This is been an emotional few weeks, that's all. Let me go check on the others while I'm here." He left the office and headed over to where the two newer patients were resting.
LeBeau walked back into Hogan's office. Not knowing what to do with himself and emotionally drained, but relieved, he began to straighten up the room.
"LeBeau?" Hogan whispered a few minutes later.
"You're awake! And we think your fever broke." LeBeau reached for the thermometer..
"I feel like… Oh, wait. I thought you were sick. Were you standing by the door?"
"I'm better, Colonel. Wilson said I could come in. Here, put this in your mouth, please. No one is here right now. Except for Goldman and Saunders. They're in bed with the stomach thing. But everyone else is out running the camp. Not that we can do it without you, sir," he said quickly. "But, we're managing. And Baker's on the radio. But it's been quiet today. Wilson was just here. Let's see. 98.8 That's much better."
"Why? What was it?" Hogan pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. "I have a vague recollection of thinking I was back in England, and then I was yelling pull up? I need to get up."
"No. Not until Wilson says it's okay. Let me get some water. Here."
"I thought I was on the plane."
"Yes. I heard that's what you said. How do you feel?" LeBeau asked, as he thought it was best to change the subject.
"Awful," Hogan admitted. "But not like this morning."
"That was yesterday." LeBeau took Hogan's empty cup, and placed it on the table.
"Yesterday?"
"Yes".
"I really thought…"
"It's over, sir," LeBeau said. "You beat it."
April 24, 1945
Camp Lucky Strike
"I've been here five times, Colonel."
"The sixth time is the charm then." Hogan smiled. "How are you doing?"
"Fine, sir. I was more concerned about you." LeBeau began to putter around the area, straightening the nightstand, and pouring the colonel some fresh water. "Ah, who brought you the flowers?" he asked. He checked the water in the small vase on the end table.
"I have no clue," Hogan replied. "I woke up and there they were. And to answer your next question, I'm hanging in there. But I'm going nuts in here."
"With all these nurses?"
"They wake me up to take my temperature." Hogan complained. "And they won't listen to me when I try to get out of here. Being in here isn't all it's cracked up to be, LeBeau."
LeBeau thought briefly back to when he was sick, and how, when he was on the mend, he felt he was going crazy from boredom. "No, I suppose not."
"I spoke to General Butler about you staying here. He can't make any promises. He may not have a choice in the matter," Hogan told LeBeau.
LeBeau shrugged. "I can wait," he said sadly.
LeBeau had developed a rapport with the nurse in Hogan's ward. They gave Hogan some privacy for a moment and continued their conversation.
"Oh, so that's when everything turned?" The nurse said. "His fever went down."
"Yes. That's what we thought," LeBeau answered. "The medic tried to convince him to leave with the first group out. But he refused. We practically had to tie him to the bed. It was scary, and he never really fully recovered. So here we are." LeBeau stopped talking for a moment, and then continued. "Actually he had a bad relapse right after liberation, but you know that part."
"Yes," she said. "That can happen and that's why we're so persistent with them. He keeps trying to sneak out of here you know."
LeBeau laughed. "I know. Ah, but you are too smart."
"I think deep down, Corporal, he knows we are right. Besides there are still twelve men in here and he has to set a good example. Oh, look. Here's the food."
LeBeau waited for the cart to come close to Hogan's bed. He stayed close by as the nurse handed Hogan a tray and got the colonel set up.
"I'll leave you two alone," she said. "It was nice talking with you, Corporal LeBeau."
"Lieutenant." LeBeau smiled at the nurse.
Hogan folded his arms across his body. "Well, LeBeau. Looks like you two hit it off."
LeBeau turned his head and watched approvingly as the lieutenant continued on her rounds. "Yes, I have to admit that we did. Now, let's see what we have here." As LeBeau moved the tray over, he started to take the cover off the plate, but was stopped in his tracks by the colonel.
"As your commanding officer, LeBeau, I can't let you look at this."
"Let me see." LeBeau lifted the cover and shivered. "I shouldn't have done that, but you need to eat it." LeBeau looked at his watch. "I'm supposed to meet everyone at the mess."
Hogan picked up his fork and began to move food around the plate. "Mess. That actually sounds good."
"It's not really," LeBeau stated. "We've got special diets there as well."
"Well, don't let me stop you. Go have dinner, LeBeau."
"I will be back as soon as I can, Colonel." LeBeau left Hogan to his dinner and headed off to the mess.
Shortly afterwards, Hogan, now seated on a chair by the bedside, got another visitor.
"Wembley!" Hogan stood up and warmly shook the British colonel's hand.
"Hogan old chap. Glad to see you up and about. Sit." As Wembley grabbed another seat, he spied a book on the nightstand with a bookmark marking a page. "What are you reading? A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. That's a good one."
"Yeah, the Red Cross brought it over. I'm trying to keep busy."
"So, Hogan. Let's have a look at you. What has it been? Almost a year?"
"Yes. Right before D-Day. About that. How's your wife?" Hogan asked.
"Smashing. So, you gave us quite a scare you know."
"Scared myself. Scared for everyone else," Hogan groaned. "What a way to end this thing."
"You were there when the tanks rolled in. You always told me that's what you wanted."
"Good point," Hogan conceded. "So, is this a social call or official business?"
"Both. We're heading back tomorrow. There's nothing more for us to do here. The processing is moving along. There will be a troop ship coming in soon.
Hogan looked relieved. "So I should be able to see the men beforehand."
"We'll ship the American boys back as soon as possible. The rest from the continent; they'll stay here until it's safe, depending where they're from. The rest of you..." Wembley reached into his pocket and removed a typed sheet. "Here's the final list. They'll come over to London with you when you're cleared." Wembley handed Hogan the paper. Unfortunately, you'll be staying quite a bit longer. But, we will get everyone home as soon as its feasible."
"LeBeau's on here," Hogan noted in a disappointed voice.
"That couldn't be helped, I'm afraid. So tell me; what's your prognosis?"
"Prognosis? You're a ghoul!" Hogan laughed; then coughed. Wembley handed him a glass of water. After a few sips, the cough subsided.
"Wrong choice of words. I meant time frame. Any idea?"
"No," Hogan replied in a frustrated tone. "They say I'm improving. I feel better. But they're keeping me a prisoner in our own hospital. Some of the other boys are still in here. They were sick at the same time I was."
"You should see some of the others that have come through this camp." Wembley shook his head. "You're all damn lucky."
"So I've heard."
"There's more. But that can wait for London. So, tonight they're bringing in more movies. A double feature. A western and a musical. I love musicals! I think I'll go," Wembley said in that jovial tone that Hogan got to know so well.
"Really?" Hogan laughed. "I didn't know that about you."
"Well, yes. I'm quite a hoofer, if I do say so myself," Wembley rose from the chair and did a quick time step. He bowed at the smattering of some nearby applause. "You can ask my wife when you meet her."
"I'd love to go for a spin on the dance floor myself. Say how did you get here?" Hogan asked.
"Jeep. Why?"
Hogan quickly rose from the chair and opened the drawer in the nightstand. He then pulled the curtain around his area.
"Hogan, what are you doing?" Wembley hustled over, hoping to forestall whatever nefarious plan the colonel had up his sleeve.
"Changing," Hogan stated. He pulled off his bathrobe and started unbuttoning his pajama shirt.
"You're certifiably insane."
"I'm going insane. Drive me to the hangers." Hogan took off the shirt and then pulled out a clean uniform shirt.
"They'll discover you're missing."
Hogan snapped his fingers. "I'll get the rest of the guys to start a diversion. They're good at that, you know. They've had lots of practice."
Wembley couldn't help but laugh at that quip; but then he began to panic. "I'll tell, Hogan. And I'm not driving you."
"Aha!" Hogan pointed at the Brit. "You do think I can get away with this. Besides, I outrank you."
"Yes, but not by much," Wembley pointed out.
"You dropped Crittendon on us," Hogan countered.
"That wasn't me!" Wembley then raised his voice. "I won't let you do this," he said to Hogan, who by now was trying to put on his boots.
There were a few orderlies and nurses hanging around the closest exit. But Hogan noticed a clear path to another exit, which was at the other end of the ward. The colonel opened the curtain and started to walk-albeit slowly-out of the hospital.
An ambulatory prisoner a few beds down hustled over and tentatively blocked the colonel's way. "Going somewhere, sir?"
"Cover for me, Madison." Hogan stepped around the sergeant.
Madison gulped. "I'm sorry, sir...but..." He spied the British colonel and Madison's eyes pleaded with the man for help.
"Go back to your bed, Sergeant. I'll take care of it." Wembley had to admit that Papa Bear had chutzpah. "Honestly, how far do you think you'll get?" he whispered to the colonel. Hogan's stubbornness and guile intrigued Wembley, and he was almost willing to see how far he would actually go.
"Just look like you know where you're going and what you're doing, and you can get away with almost anything. Worked for us more than once in Ger…" Hogan stopped dead in his tracks, as a portable curtain surrounding a patient opened, and he came face to face with Lieutenant Gage and Maddox.
The nurse frowned. "Where are you going, Colonel Hogan?"
"Out for some air, Lieutenant," he replied to the nurse.
"Fully dressed?" Maddox groaned. "Lieutenant, see that he gets back to bed," he ordered. "Colonel Wembley. Please leave. You..." He pointed to the other patients, who were holding back laughter. "Be quiet." The men did quiet down, but they kept an ear open for any further developments. Maddox winked at Hogan before he let the nurse take charge. Then Gage made sure the colonel followed orders.
"You are not setting a good example for the other patients," she told the colonel as she pulled the curtain around his area so he could get changed.
Hogan thought back to all the odd plans he devised when he was in camp. Frequently, no one thought he could pull them off. Some were so outrageous that even he had doubts. But, for whatever reason, they survived. Maybe he was not the usual role model. But, no one would argue that they weren't thrust into unusual circumstances. He had certainly changed since his time at the 504th. For the better, he realized. He smiled at the nurse. "I apologize, Lieutenant. I've been so used to giving orders, that in some circumstances, I often find it difficult to follow them."
"I accept your apology." Gage smiled back. "Wait for the doctor and please be reasonable."
"I would so like to see you out of here." Maddox said this to Hogan a few minutes later.
"Fine, then. When can I go?" Hogan said as he reluctantly began changing back into his pajamas.
"How did your medic put up with you in camp?"
"He didn't have to. I didn't really get sick until before right before we were liberated."
"Let me have a deep breath," the doctor asked as Hogan coughed. "These things don't get better overnight. I'll order another x-ray for tomorrow morning. Please make a note of that, Lieutenant," he said to the nurse.
"I've been here three days. I haven't seen the men."
"They're quarantined."
"Come on. You saw me when I came in," Hogan argued. "Look, I walked halfway down the aisle without falling over."
"I'm genuinely sorry. A touch of pneumonia, which is what you had when you walked in here, usually takes time to clear. Relapses can come back worse. Now, I know this relapse isn't as bad as we feared, but I don't want to have to write a letter to your mother. Your men aren't going anywhere. They'll be here a while longer. They have to wait for a troop ship. Most of them are American, I take it?"
"It's a mix, but yes," Hogan answered.
Maddox nodded. "You'll get to see them. Sooner rather than later, I hope. But that depends on you."
"Thanks." Hogan leaned back on his pillows and folded his arms across his chest. Now tired, and with nothing much else to do, he grabbed some paper and began writing some letters.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
for various resources, please see: www . archives . gov / research / alic / reference / military / ww2 . html
I put in a lot of research time on troop ships and their movements. This is the best fit.
General M. C. Meigs
"General M. C. Meigs deployed troops to Panama and Puerto Rico from 25 March to 7 April before departing New York 16 April to carry troops to Le Havre, France. There she embarked homebound troops 28 April, sailed for the United States 30 April via Southampton, England, and reached Newport News 14 May. Between 22 May and 14 June she steamed to Naples and returned to Newport News with 5,100 veterans. Sailing again 23 June, she transported occupation troops to Naples, where she then embarked Brazilian troops 4 July and sailed the 6th for Rio de Janeiro. She reached Brazil 18 July and steamed to Baia [sic; Bahia] and Recife, Brazil, before arriving Newport News 12 August. Between 23 August and 17 September she cruised to Naples and returned additional troops to Brazil."
history . army . mil / documents / WWII / wwii _ Troopships . pdf