Chapter 2:
Kommandant Wilhelm Klink grimaced and whimpered with pain as he knotted his body up on a mat with colored stars in different locations. His left foot crossed his right, his arms were criss-crossed behind him, and the pain screaming up and down his back was becoming unbearable. He finally opened his eyes and managed to lift his head up enough to spot his 15 year old daughter, Kalina, who sat at his desk with a spinner telling her what color and body part her father had to place together next.
"Kalina Süße, I think we're playing this game all wrong here," he said, doing all he could to keep himself from moaning.
Kalina lifted her bright blue eyes up from the spinner and furrowed her eyebrows together in confusion. "The game's called 'Verheddert', Papa. You're supposed to move your body in weird positions," she answered innocently. (1)
"Am I supposed to feel like my spine is being ripped out of my body?" Klink snapped from the searing pain.
Ignoring her father's complaints, Kalina spun the arrow again and waited for it to come to a complete stop on the next color and body part. She looked up again at her father. "Right leg purple," she said.
Klink turned his head behind him to find the designated color, made his gaze back to his daughter, and gave her a hard stare. "That is not happening." He protested.
Kalina set the spinner down on the desk and got to her feet. "Aw Papa...Here, I'll help," she answered, walking over to Klink. She got down on her knees, grabbed a hold of her father's leg by the top of his boot, and attempted to try and move it back, but found it locked in place. She again tried to get it to budge, but Klink's foot would not move. She gave a couple grunts as she tried a few more times, then she looked up at Klink with a stunned expression. "No wonder you're in pain, Papa; you're not supposed to lock your muscles and joints that much. Moving your limbs like that is like trying to get a tree trunk to bend."
She continued to try and get her father's leg to loosen, when Klink realized he could stand in his current position no more. He let out a surrendering moan, grabbed Kalina's arm, then pulled her down with him as she let our a short yelp. She landed underneath Klink's arm, and Kalina turned to her left to give him a teasing glare. "Papa, you did that on purpose!" She cried.
"I did not; my old legs finally gave out," Klink remarked defensively, then a mischievous twinkle came to his eyes. "Now this, however, I did do on purpose." He reached out and began tickling his daughter's side, making Kalina squeal and shoot up to her feet.
"Papa, stop. That tickles!" She laughed, running to the other side of the room, Klink not too far behind her. They ran around the office a little more before Klink finally caught Kalina and again tickled her sides, making her laugh and squeal in glee. Klink was soon chuckling himself, then stopped to give his daughter a breather.
Kalina looked up at Klink with a loving gaze, then wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her head against the top of her father's belly. Her smile widened when she felt Klink hold her close and rubbing the back of her head. "I love you, Papa," she said. "You're my best friend."
Klink gave Kalina a gentle kiss on the head and continued to rub the lower back of her head. "I love you, Süße," he answered. "And you know something; you're my best friend, too."
The two continued to enjoy their father-daughter moment in silence, when the door to Klink's office opened, and General Burkhalter made his way inside, the sound of his footsteps bringing the two Klinks back to reality.
"Guten morgen, General Burkhalter," Kalina said, with a smile.
"Kalina," Burkhalter replied, with a short bow. "Good to see you again, my dear."
"General Burkhalter, what a pleasant surprise, Sir," Klink said, standing at attention and giving his commanding officer a respectful salute.
"I wish I could say the same thing to you, Klink," Burkhalter answered, tugging on one of his gloves briefly. "Unfortunately, what I have to say is anything far from pleasant. I'm here to warn you that the Inspector General is coming tomorrow morning for a surprise inspection."
Klink's eyes widened a bit at the sound of 'Inspector General' and 'surprise inspection', the color slowly draining from his face. "Surprise inspection," he gasped.
"General Burkhalter, I thought you did camp inspections," Kalina said, her eyebrows furrowed together in perplexion.
"I do the mandatory sweep throughs required once a month, my dear. The Inspector General goes through the camp with a fine-toothed comb." Burkhalter explained. "Marks down every detail from how your father handles the prisoners all the way down to how the guards hold their firearms."
"But why Stalag 13, Herr General. My camp runs perfectly fine. No escapes, no riots, no health violations," Klink answered, the last part with immense pride.
"You better hope the Inspector General thinks that," Burkhalter warned. He took a few steps closer towards his subordinate to make sure Klink felt the same sharp chill up his spine as he did. "Four of my kommandants have just been transferred to the Russian Front because the Inspector General was not satisfied with their hand on things. One more failed inspection, and he is transferring me to the Russian Front. And you, Klink, will be coming with me if that happens."
By that point, Klink had gone as pale as a ghost and swallowed a large lump forming in his throat. Kalina had wrapped her arms tight around her father, terrified that just letting him go would make him disappear from sight. She shook her head.
"But General Burkhalter, Dr. Nussbaum said Papa couldn't go back to combat duty again," she stated fearfully. (2)
"He might not be able to fight in a combat unit, but that doesn't eliminate him from police officer duties on a German air base there," Burkhalter said, the last part a threat towards Klink.
Klink slowly turned his head back to the 'Verheddert' mat before making his eyes back straight ahead of him and put a hand to his face. "I think I'd rather go back to having my spine ripped out again."
"Colonel Hogan!" Kalina called out, slamming the barracks door behind her. Burkhalter had just left camp for the night, and the little Klink knew she would need more than herself to dig her father out of the hole he had just fallen into. She needed one of Hogan's wild schemes, and she needed one yesterday.
"Colonel Hogan!" She called out again. When she got no response for a second time, she ran towards the fake bunk and frantically searched the main area for her second father. "COLONEL HOGAN!" She shrieked.
"Whoa, kiddo, easy there," Kinch said, rising to his feet and walking towards Kalina. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder to try and set her at ease.
"What's all the hullabaloo about? Yah acting as if London were just bombed or something," Newkirk said, taking his cigarette out of his mouth. He, Carter, and LeBeau sat at the table playing a board game of some kind, and Kinch had been reading the paper until Kalina had come in in a panic.
"What's the matter? My Papa's about to face a death sentence, that's what all the, the...oh, whatever you just said is!" Kalina exclaimed, starting to hyperventilate.
Hearing all the commotion from his room, Hogan came running out of his quarters, spotted Kalina, and hurried to her side. "Everything alright out here?" He asked, his voice full with concern.
Kalina sprinted to the colonel and placed her hands around Hogan's sides. "Colonel Hogan, you gotta help me! The Inspector General is coming sometime tomorrow morning, and if he doesn't like what he sees, he's sending Papa to Russia to do police work, please help me!" She pleaded.
"The Inspector General," Hogan remarked, baffled. "I thought we got rid of him months ago." (3)
"That was the old one, General von Platzen. The new one is General von Aschenbrener; and he's apparently worse than von Platzen was. Four kommandants were already transferred to the Russian Front because they didn't meet up to his standards. And if Stalag 13 faces the same fate, Papa will be joining them, too."
"Alright, alright, calm down now, hon. Take it easy now," Hogan said, placing a gentle hand on Kalina's shoulder and rubbing it tenderly. "Your father's not gonna get sent to the Russian Front, I promise. We're gonna make Stalag 13 look like the toughest, meanest POW camp half of Germany presumes it to be."
"How are we going to do that, though?" Kalina whimpered, looking up at Hogan with puppy dog eyes. "I love Papa with all my heart, but he's too soft to be a mean and vicious kommandant."
"He doesn't have to be...We just need to make the Inspector General think he is."
"Colonel, how are we gonna do that?" Kinch asked, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. "As soon as that General von Aschenbrener comes through his office door tomorrow, Klink's gonna coware and hide like a chicken."
Carter pursed his lips together as he clasped his hands in front of him and thought of an idea. "What if we did something to really piss him off?" He suggested. "Like sticking a pole up the back of his uniform or something. That should get him ornery enough to appear mean."
"Because that would not be visible to anyone at all," LeBeau remarked snippy.
"We could give him drugs of some sort. Something to make his behavior all erratic, yah know?" Newkirk proposed.
"You are not drugging my Papa!" Kalina snarled protectively.
"Well not enough to kill him or anything...just enough to make him a little loony in the head for a few hours, that's all," Newkirk answered.
Hogan had his arms wrapped around himself, his fingers tapping the side of his left arm as he scoured his brain for a solution. A lightbulb began to flicker, and he turned to Kalina for consultation. "Kalina," he began. "Did your father ever do any acting like in a theater class or something growing up?"
The little Klink thought on the question for a while before answering. "He did a few musicals at the university while studying there, but it didn't go any further than that. Papa says actors are nothing but a bunch of dramatics."
A mischievous grin began to play across Hogan's face, and he turned his gaze back to his men. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you the next big star to hit Broadway: Colonel Wilhelm Klink."
"Hogan, you've gotta help me," Klink said, his face buried into his hands as he stooped over in his desk chair. "The new Inspector General is coming here tomorrow morning, and if I don't pass inspection, it's death at the Russian Front for me."
"Oh, come on, Kommandant; Burkhalter's just trying to scare you. He can't send you to the Russian Front, you have medical orders forbidding it," Hogan replied, trying to appear as if he did not already know the colonel's dark fate.
Klink snapped his eyes up to Hogan and frowned more. "Trying to scare me; General Burkhalter says if he goes, I go," he remarked, rising to his feet and walking his way over to the liquor cabinet. He shakily poured himself a glass of brandy. "I can't believe this is how it ends. No promotion to general, no seeing the end of the war, never getting to walk my baby down the aisle on her wedding day...just a snowy unmarked grave somewhere along the Volga." He downed his glass in one gulp and quickly poured himself a new one. "I'm finished, Hogan. If Stalag 24 didn't manage to pass inspection, how do I expect Stalag 13 will?"
"Why, what's wrong with Stalag 24?" Hogan asked curiously.
"General Burkhalter told me the Inspector General did not like the way the kommandant walked and transferred him to a combat unit to straighten out his striding step."
"Can an Inspector General really send you to the Russian Front just for walking a certain way?"
"Hogan, a German general can send you to the Russian Front just for breathing incorrectly."
Hogan crossed his arms with a slight grimace. "I wasn't aware there was a correct way to breathe," he answered softly.
"You see what my problem is here?"
"Alright, Kommandant, now look; this Inspector General is looking for things to be a very specific way and for the kommandant to be a very specific personality, right?"
"Ja." Klink nodded.
"Then we have to make you act like said character. By pretending you're putting on one of the greatest theater acts of all time."
"Oh Hogan, I was never great at acting, though. Sure, I did a few musicals here and there for fun back in school, but I'm nowhere near as talented as those guys in Hollywood."
Hogan held a finger up, stopping Klink from going any further. "Now there's where you're wrong, Sir," he remarked. "We just have to get you in the right mindset, and BAM! Say 'goodbye' to the Russian Front."
"But how do I get into said mindset, though; that's where the trouble comes in."
"You've gotta stop thinking like yourself, Sir," Hogan persisted. "You're too soft and compassionate; you need to lose the real Colonel Klink all together for a few hours and become a different person. A lean, mean, German tiger tank fighting machine. Someone that is anything but the humane and nice man that you are."
"But I like being nice." Klink whined.
"Which do you like more; being nice, or avoiding the Russian Front?"
Klink's body tensed at the last part, then took in a deep breath through his nose and stood tall with authority. He tried to harden his backbone, but what came out of his mouth was more than disappointing to Hogan. "You dummkopf, you're supposed to chew your food exactly 30 times; not 29. Now it won't digest properly!"
Hogan bent his head forward and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, no, no; it's still too nice. You've gotta think nasty, Kommandant. Nasty! Treat me like someone who was about to harm Kalina." It was then a lightbulb turned on in his mind, and Hogan snapped his fingers. "That's it. Kommandant, I want you to imagine everyone in this camp is Colonel Koch." (4)
"Colonel Koch?" Klink gasped, then his eyes grew dark with rage. "You mean that demon that whipped my baby like she was nothing?"
"Yes," the American answered. "You never got the chance to face the man in person and tell him your piece of mind. You never got to give him the hell I know you wanted to for hurting sweet little Kalina. Picture every prisoner in this camp to be as criminal as he was. Seethe your teeth, glare your eyes, let your voice drip with venom."
Klink's eyes narrowed when he thought of the monster that had dared to lay hands on his precious daughter. A low growl escaped his lips as he stalked towards Hogan, his walk slow yet predatory. "Stand up straight," he hissed.
"Stand up straight," Hogan replied, surprised. "Kommandant, I'm already standing u…"
"STAND UP STRAIGHT!"
The hollered command caused Hogan to jump up a bit, then straightened his shape as much as he could without injuring his back. He stared at the kommandant with a puppy dog look in his eyes, genuine fear running through his veins for the first time since meeting Klink.
"Speak only when I tell you to, understood?" The German continued.
"Yes, Sir," Hogan said, meek.
"I didn't hear you!"
"Sir, yes, Sir!"
"Good. And quit coming into my office whenever you so choose to. Next time you do such an act, I'll shoot you without warning." Klink's fierce demeanor quickly melted away, and his eyes softened as he looked at Hogan again. "How was that?" He asked weary.
A wide grin came to Hogan's face as he crossed his arms with pride. "Kommandant," he began. "I think you might just even convince Burkhalter with that act."
(1) Verheddert - Tangled. The game Twister did not exist in the 1940s, so I created a fake version of it for the purpose of this story.
(2) Dr. Nussbaum is a character I created, and he appears in my story "Hogan's Heroes: All Hectic On the Eastern Front". It's based off of the episode 'To Russia Without Love' in season six of the TV series.
(3) Reference to the episode 'The Late Inspector General' and the character General von Platzen in season one.
(4) Colonel Koch is a character I created for my story "Hogan's Heroes: All Hectic On the Eastern Front".