A/N: This is the second to last chapter. I broke up my original final chapter into two parts. Several people, including Abracadebra and ColHogan, offered feedback on this part of the story and put in a lot of effort to make suggestions, edits, etc. I appreciated all their time and effort. I also want to thank my sister for her opinions and for always reminding me to have confidence in my writing. It's taken me a long time to polish this, and I may work on more edits after the final chapter is posted. (still working on that one).
RAMPS
Chapter 12
Camp Lucky Strike
April 25, 1945
Kinch arrived in Hogan's cubicle with his usual clipboard and pen and found the Colonel in bed, drumming his fingers on his tray table. Hogan looked up and grinned, happy to have some company.
"I need this sent to London." Hogan handed Kinch a large sealed envelope.
"Will do, Colonel. Anything else?" He gestured toward a stack of letters on Hogan's nightstand. "What about those?" Hogan handed him the mail.
"Got it, sir. Is that it?"
"I'm dying of boredom."
"Can't do anything about that, Colonel. Can you sign this?" Kinch handed Hogan the clipboard and a pen.
Hogan signed and handed the clipboard back to Kinch. The sergeant flipped the paper over. "Next page," he said. "Initial here."
Kinch gave a small smile as Hogan affixed his initials. "Aren't you going to read these?" he asked.
"I think you'd tell me if that was necessary," Hogan replied.
Kinch shrugged. "I would. You're granting permission for the men to go to the PX in small groups and taking full responsibility."
Hogan glanced at the sheet. "So if they talk, I'm the one they'll shoot."
"That's the gist of it, Sir. They're all sitting on back pay. I guess they're ready to load up on Life Savers and Juicy Fruit gum."
"A taste of home. Let them go to town." Hogan handed back the clipboard.
"Do you want us to pick something up for you, Colonel?" Kinch asked.
"I could use more aftershave," Hogan told him. He then folded his arms and let out a chuckle.
"What's so funny, sir?" Kinch asked.
"I ran out of aftershave in March. But, remember all that stuff we collected? We had enough to set up a stall in a London market."
Kinch smiled. "Newkirk did say that, sir. And we put it to good use." He paused for a moment. "I think you gave one of your last bottles of aftershave to Schultz."
"I honestly don't remember," Hogan replied. Since he had come down sick, he often felt like his brain was caught up in a dense London fog. Although he felt fine now, his memories were faulty and he knew his decision-making skills back at camp were not as reliable as they should have been. "Kinch."
"Yes, sir."
"Thanks for taking charge of the operation back at camp. One wrong move and we could have had a disaster on our hands."
While second-guessing was not Hogan's style, Kinch could sense the guilt in the colonel's tone. The sergeant realized he could not leave Hogan mulling over the decisions made the last months before liberation. Of course, removing the colonel's command was not their call. That fell to Wilson; but they all, Hogan included, agreed it was necessary. Fortunately, it was temporary, and Kinch repeated what he and others had told their C.O. back at camp. "You knew what needed to be done and when. And it was a team effort."
Hogan knew Kinch was correct. Perhaps he just needed confirmation. Were Kinch's eyes beginning to tear up?
"It was," Hogan stated, knowing that too much conversation can sometimes be counter-productive. "Well, we may have looked like a fly by the seat of our pants operation, but you and the others...well, it was the right set of circumstances at the right time...with the right people."
Kinch smiled. "Yes, sir. Permission to take care of this paperwork?"
"Dismissed."
As Hogan watched Kinch leave, he thought about his men's rediscovered formality. He appreciated and understood this change. While he started out with a strict command structure in camp, the dangerous and fluid conditions contributed to less saluting and more familiarity. It was a natural response to their unusual circumstances and constant stress.
All the prisoners wondered what would happen after liberation. However, when the day finally arrived, and they realized their new reality was not what they expected, Hogan noticed that many of them fell back into the habits ingrained in them during training and their service. The colonel was not surprised that even his top operatives, those closest to him, slipped back into a more formal demeanor, much as Carter had acted when he received a Dear John letter and asked to go home. (1)
He sat back on his pillows and waited, not for the next shoe to drop, but for the next activity on his schedule. To his relief, he watched as the end of the hospital ward housing the men from Luft Stalag 13 emptied. Eventually, only five from Hogan's command remained. More of the patients went outside for fresh air, a small change that actually brought huge comfort to those who had been suffering from cabin fever. Clad in their army bathrobes, the men soaked up the sun.
"I can't tell you how good this feels," Hogan said to Carter as they lounged on a bench right outside the hospital. "The sun and the company."
"I can imagine you've been pretty restless. Like at camp." Carter smiled and leaned his head back in order to catch some rays.
"At camp I was too sick to care—at first anyway. What have you been up to? I haven't seen much of you lately," Hogan asked the tech sergeant. He was happy to see Carter relax.
"What have I been up to? Oh, boy…I mean, sir." Carter paused for a moment to rub his eyes. "I think I may need glasses," he said. "You see, when you start working closely, like I did in camp with all those little bits and pieces, wires, parts, test tubes, well, we never had our eyes checked. And now…" Carter's mouth came to a dead stop. "You want me to get to the point," he stated.
"That would be nice," Hogan replied. "I'm not getting any younger." Hogan saw Carter's crestfallen face. "That was a joke." Hogan smiled. (2)
"Oh." Carter smiled back. "I'm glad to see you still have your sense of humor, sir. Now where was I?"
"Your eyes. And what you've been up to?"
"Oh, sure." Carter scratched his forehead and then turned to face Hogan. "Baker and I have been working on the roster. We had to compare records. I mean we had to compare the intelligence records with the camp records. That's why I definitely think I need to have my eyes checked. Small print. Bad handwriting."
"I see. You have to make sure everyone's been accounted for?" Hogan asked.
"You bet!" Carter replied. "Well, the intelligence records were right and they matched ours. Newkirk even had a pool going."
"A pool?" Hogan asked as he tried hard not to laugh.
"You know, sir. A betting pool. How much off they were?"
"How much off they were by whom?" Hogan was now a bit confused. This was not an unusual circumstance. Carter often did that to people.
"The army, sir." It was now Carter's turn to show a bit of confusion. He couldn't figure out what Hogan didn't get, although he was too polite to say so. "We had to correct their records, too."
"Oh. And…"
"They were off by 17 men," Carter explained. "Don't worry, Colonel," he said as he saw Hogan's facial expression turn serious. "London will handle any discrepancies."
"Good." Considering how many men of different nationalities made it through the camp, that's not as bad as I thought. "Even if the army didn't have the correct information, I know all of our men's families were notified of their capture and where they were taken. There's a huge bureaucracy out there just handling POW affairs for all of the countries. So, who won?" (3)
"Won what?" Carter asked.
"The betting pool, Carter!"
"Oh, right!" Carter laughed. "Kinch did of course. He knows our records better than anyone."
Hogan wasn't insulted; because what Carter said was true. Kinch seemed to have this information stored in his brain. Whether they were looking for an expert on metallurgy, a recipe for matzo balls, or the composition of German soil, his second knew whom to call upon. (4)
"Of course he did," Hogan replied. He spotted the patients heading back into the building. "I have to get back inside," he told Carter. "I have an appointment with the doctor in a few minutes."
"Okay, sir. I'll get back to the records." Carter got up and headed back towards the staff tent, while Hogan opened the door and entered the hospital.
As Hogan walked back to his bed, he saw that Major Maddox was already there. The doctor was scribbling notes on his chart. "Good news?" Hogan asked.
"Yes," the doctor replied. "Your X-rays are fine. We're kicking you out of here tomorrow morning, barring any last-minute changes in your condition. Frankly, we will all be glad to see you go." There was a slight grin on the doctor's face.
"Hallelujah. Can I let my staff know?" Hogan asked.
"Sure," Maddox replied. "I'll send someone over." He walked away and spoke to an orderly, who nodded and then left the building.
"You know, I was beginning to think I'd never make it out of here," Hogan confided to a nurse a few moments later.
The nurse smiled. "I had faith in you, Colonel."
That evening, Hogan spent some time chatting with the few men in his unit left in the hospital, and then walked to the other end of ward to visit with the other liberated prisoners.
Camp Lucky Strike
April 26, 1945
Hogan was buttoning his shirt and tucking it into his pants, when he spotted his medic strolling towards him. "Hey, Joe," he said cheerfully.
"Morning sir. I'm your ride," Wilson quipped. "We've got a tent where you can get settled, and then after lunch, you can speak to all the men in the hangars. Oh, I brought you something. Picked this up for you at the PX." Wilson handed Hogan a bottle of aftershave.
"Thanks." Hogan put it in a duffel bag and then fastened his notch on his belt. "Hey, look at that. I gained back some pounds. One notch looser since I came in. So how do I look?"
Wilson smiled. "Like yourself, sir. Once you get settled, London wants you on a call when you're ready. And the people they want to see—you're all going out on a flight tomorrow morning. London said I can wait for the troop ship."
Hogan agreed with Wilson's plans. He took one last stroll through the ward, spoke briefly to the remaining patients, and thanked the medical staff. He and the medic got in the jeep and drove off. The colonel leaned back in the vehicle and took in the details of the enormous facility, finally seeing what some of what he had missed when he was unceremoniously admitted into the medical unit upon his arrival. He'd never seen so many tents. He heard someone at the hospital say the camp had a capacity of 70,000. The contrast between this bustling city and the last days in his former prison was striking.
Luft Stalag 13
April 21, 1945
Hogan stood alone in the center of the compound, with only a few empty half tracks and jeeps for company. The remnants of the battalion that had liberated the camp were in the mess hall having a quick meal before heading out to meet their unit, which had continued further into Germany. A small convoy, an ambulance which would carry Hogan and his men and several trucks holding personal items and paperwork, were parked outside the front gates. He turned around. The camp was eerily silent. Spooky, thought Hogan. Like a ghost town. The colonel took a deep breath, which was the wrong move, as it led to a fit of coughing. "Damn," he said out loud.
"You all right, sir?" Kinch had quietly sneaked up behind him. "You need to get that checked out."
"It's too quiet," Hogan said. "Seems so odd, so lifeless."
"That it does," Kinch agreed.
Hogan began to walk towards the barracks. "You all ready? I want to check out the tunnels."
"Everything is set, Colonel, but are you sure that's wise? Heading down there? Wilson said…"
The look on Hogan's face stopped Kinch in his tracks. He wisely kept his mouth shut as they approached the hut where LeBeau, Newkirk, and Carter were waiting; medical advice or not, Hogan was going to want to see this.
Hogan smiled as he reached out and pulled a Verboten sign off a bulletin board and threw it in the trash. He paused for a moment, thinking of the brave men and women who didn't make it. The courier who brought in the briefcase. Members of the Underground who gave their lives to help others. The innocent civilians...he coughed. As he entered the hut, he said quietly, "Every man who landed here as a POW made it out alive."
"Something to tell your family, sir. They'd be proud," Newkirk emphasized.
"I couldn't have done it without your help," Hogan replied. "And everyone else's as well."
"Even Klink," Carter noted. "He wasn't that bad, was he?"
"You're right, Carter. Even Klink."
"Any word on how the Kommandant is doing?" Carter asked. "And the rest of his staff?" Once the camp was handed over to the Americans, Klink and the rest of their overseers were processed as quickly as possible and taken away.
"Haven't heard anything recently," Hogan replied. "Just know they're nicely settled somewhere in England and separated from other prisoners. I'm sure Schultz knows the reason why."
"And Klink is in denial." Kinch laughed. "If he even suspects." He paused for a moment as he became lost in thought. "From what I hear, they'll be a lot more comfortable than many of the other captured Germans."
"Or other Allied prisoners," LeBeau added, referring to some of the reports received about the poor condition of other liberated POWs.
"Our freed men will be taken care of, LeBeau," Hogan said. "There are hospitals set up in all the evacuation centers." The colonel then flopped down in a chair.
Four pairs of eyes stared at him for a moment.
"What?" Hogan stared back as he tried to catch his breath.
There was a chorus of mumbling and a lot of shifting feet.
There was nothing wrong with Hogan's hearing.
"He's going to end up in one of those hospitals," he heard Kinch whisper to Newkirk before they left the hut.
The colonel didn't answer his second. Instead he shelved the radioman's concerns away and concentrated on the next step of their evacuation. He was still in command of his remaining troops and he intended on doing his job and being there for his core team; and once he arrived at the Lucky Strike camp, the rest of liberated prisoners as well.
1) Request Permission to Escape-After receiving a "Dear John" letter from his girlfriend, Carter entered Hogan's office and asked for permission to escape. Hogan actually asked the tech sergeant if he had to be so military. Carter's answer? "I always get this way when I'm serious, sir."
2) Hogan Throws a Birthday Party-in this episode, General Biedenbender, the man ultimately responsible for shooting down Hogan's plane, asked Carter why he looked so crest-fallen.
3) Cross-checking records of liberated POWs with records from the Red Cross (of captured POWs) was a huge undertaking for all of the countries involved. This was too much to go into here. Lucky families got good news when their sons (whom they thought were MIA) were found to be prisoners. Other families who thought their sons were going to be okay, were sadly notified of errors or that their sons had died in captivity. Others never knew what happened to their loved ones. (Russians and other Eastern Europeans captured by Germans, and the opposite, and so forth.)
4) The Pizza Parlor-in this episode, after Kinch was tasked to find someone who could come up with a pizza recipe for Major Bonacelli, Kinch actually told Hogan that he had found someone who could make matzo balls.