Chapter 19

March 30, 1945

At the barn, Hogan and his men had finished their meal, and were getting ready to leave. In the small outbuilding adjacent to the barn, Robert Hogan splashed water on his face, gasping. He briskly dried his face with a rough towel. A shudder. That water was cold! But it served to drive away all traces of fog from his head — he needed his wits about him. He had a long flight ahead of him back to the camp, and he was the one flying the plane.

Back in the barn, Bruno filled several thermoses with hot black coffee. He had also packed some sandwiches in a small bag. Heinz Meyer had left a few minutes before for the main gate after nodding a goodbye to Hogan and his men. Scouts had been sent out on bicycles, keeping an eye out for the Stage, and, it had to be admitted, watching out for the SS and the Gestapo.

Then, like it or not, it was time . . .

Peter Newkirk gulped audibly as Anna Neumann walked up to him, looking at him with candid, and understanding, eyes.

Anna held out her hand. "Thank you for your assistance, Herr Peter," Anna said in a soft voice.

"I didn't do much," he said, his eyes shying away from her gaze.

"Tell that to Frau Voigt and her son. Without you, she and her boy would have died when the building collapsed."

"Yeah, I guess that was something," Newkirk muttered.

"You did what you came to do, Herr Peter; you assisted ably in the rescue. What the Stage expected you to do. Did you expect to do more?"

A twisted smile. "Well . . . I guess I'm used to doing more."

"To being the star of the show?" Anna suggested with a faint smile.

"I . . . " An embarrassed look on his face. "I guess so. When I was a kid . . . I used to do magic shows and stunts and . . . I had these wild dreams. And when they failed, my dreams got crazier, and I seemed to get in deeper trouble. But when I joined the Colonel's team, my dreams seemed to come true. I was a star again to my mates here. Until I came here. Here, here I was a failure again, not opening that safe."

A low laugh. "I wanted to be a trapeze star when I was a child, Herr Peter. And I was until I fell and broke my arm and two ribs. I was more angry at my dream being crushed than I was about the injuries. I was mad at the world for weeks, until my dear mother, a woman with a will of iron, bluntly told me to find a dream more suited to my real abilities than my imaginary ones. And to accept that if I did my best no matter how big or small the task, then I didn't fail. You did not fail, mein Herr. You saved two innocents from certain death, and you came back without hurt to yourself or to those entrusted to you. You take too much on yourself, Herr Peter." Anna touched his arm and gave him a gentle kiss. "Be content with who you are, and you will never be a failure."

A shy smile from the Englishman, and he walked away.

Anna turned to Andrew Carter. She kissed his forehead as if he were a small child. "I know it is difficult, my young friend," she said in a soft voice. "I know you are still in pain. There are many of us who have fought this war who are in pain — from what we have seen, what we have been forced to do, and what we have lost. You are a good man, a kind man, forced to do terrible things because of the war. Grieve, yes, but do not let it destroy who you are."

Carter nodded, an awkward look on his face. "I'll try, Frau Anna. And you won't forget, will you? After the war, after I get home, you'll visit?"

"I will not forget," she said.

"If you can't make it next year on July Fourth, visit the following year. I'll keep going back, just for you. And for Friedrich."

"Friedrich?"

"Yeah," Carter said in a sheepish tone. "Well, you see, we were talking, and he said he hated what was going to happen here, and how much he loved the land and farming, and I, uh, told him about my brother, who sounded just like Friedrich, and how there were a lot of Germans in North Dakota, and he could go there, and — "

"You told Friedrich to go to North Dakota."

"Yeah. And you think it's a dumb idea."

Anna's eyes grew thoughtful, and she smiled. "No," Anna said in a low voice. "No, I think it is a very good idea for Friedrich and his family to go to the United States."

"You do?" A wide grin. "That's great! I told him I'd sponsor him — I think I need to do that so he can stay there. And," his voice grew sheepish again, "and I kind of said you can take him and his folks to Bull Frog when you go. I know, I know, I shouldn't have done that."

"On the contrary, I would be happy to take them." A warm smile. "Very happy. And danke schön, Herr Andrew, for caring about a young man who has seen and experienced far too much pain in his life." A kiss on his cheeks, and a smile as he turned bright red.

"Auf Wiedersehen, gnädige Frau." And Carter walked to entrance of the barn.

"Monsieur Louis." Anna took a heavy insulated bag from Bruno. "I would like you to have this." She handed the bag to LeBeau. "It is very fragile, but I believe it will do well on your journey."

Louis LeBeau carefully opened the bag and gasped loudly. "Madame! I cannot . . . "

Anna smiled. "You are one of the few people I have met who can appreciate them. Save them for a special occasion."

"I will save them for when we meet again, Madame!" LeBeau vowed in an emotional voice. He held the bag almost tenderly as he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "Merci beaucoup, Madame."

Anna smiled. "Bonne chance and au revoir, mon ami."

Her gaze fell on James Ivan Kinchloe and Richard Baker. "You have my sincerest gratitude, meine Herren. Your assistance was invaluable to your friends and our cause."

"Danke, meine Dame," Kinch said. "Thank you for letting us redeem ourselves."

"It was an honor to meet you," Baker added.

"I too was honored to know all of you," Anna said with a faint smile. "Danke schön, meine Herren. Godspeed, and I wish you joy and success in your future endeavors."

Anna walked out to Hogan who was waiting beside the plane. "Auf Wiedersehen, Colonel Hogan."

He took her hand. "If you're ever in my part of Germany . . . "

Anna laughed. "You never know. But I will be going to Switzerland first; I have an old friend there."

Hogan nodded. "I can't say this trip was a pleasure. But it has opened my eyes to a few things I ignored before. I've met the Resistance folks in Hammelburg of course, but I don't think I really understood what they were risking when they helped us. And how long they've had to fight the Nazis alone before we, the U.S., showed up."

"And now our fight is nearly over, thanks to men like you."

"Yeah, and we'll get all the credit, won't we? What you did, what the other German Resistance movements did, nobody will know, will they?"

"A few will know." Anna shrugged. "But your governments, well, they have not listened to us for years, have ignored us for years. Perhaps in the future, your children's children's future, the truth will finally be told. It does not matter. We know that we took the moral, the right path. Auf Wiedersehen, Colonel Robert Hogan."

"Auf Wiedersehen, Frau Anna Neumann."

Anna smiled faintly and left him standing by the plane.

"That is one hell of a lady," Newkirk said in a firm voice as the rest of the men walked over from the barn.

"Yes, she is," Hogan agreed. "Okay, fellas. Let's get this plane ready to leave."

Together, the men removed the camouflage nets from the plane. Then Hogan checked the plane and the fuel. As he'd expected, Anna's people had filled the gas tank, and everything looked good.

"Okay, guys, get inside."

"Don't you want to wait for the Stage, sir?" Carter asked.

Hogan looked at his watch. "It's nearly 0400." The admission twisted his stomach.

"We can wait, mon Colonel," LeBeau said, cradling the heavy bag in his arms.

Hogan shook his head with obvious reluctance. "Not this time. He said 0400. And 0400 it is."

With little enthusiasm, they climbed inside the plane and waited in silence.

Then, all too soon, it was time.

Hogan's hands were shaking as he started the Junker's engine. A final look around the dark field. In front of the moonlit barn stood two figures, both of whom raised their arms in farewell.

The small plane began to move slowly toward the far end of the field. There it would turn around and use the hard-packed field as a runway. Hogan wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs, and then gripped the wheel with sure hands.

Finally, the plane reached the other end.

For a moment, Hogan waited. Then the engine began to build up power. His mouth was dry as he heard the engine begin to race. And he felt sick.

To the end.

Wait until 0400.

To the . . .

Slowly, the plane began to move.

"Colonel!" Newkirk shouted. "Wait! I see him!"

"What?" His voice sounded stupid in his ears.

"There, Colonel!" Baker also said, pointing.

There was a figure silhouetted in the moonlight, running toward the plane.

Kinch hurriedly climbed into the back to make room for Klink as the plane stopped moving. In moments, the door jerked open and Klink clambered inside.

Immediately, the plane began to move, gaining speed with every meter. In moments, they were airborne.

"Do you enjoy giving me heart failure?" Hogan asked, his voice harsh, as the plane leveled off a couple of thousand feet above the ground.

"I apologize," Klink said. "I was held up."

"Held up? Doing what?"

"Having a theological discussion with an SS officer on a tram."

"Having a what? With a WHO? On A WHERE? ARE YOU INSANE?"

Klink sighed. "I am afraid so."

"I'm wandering around freezing to death, with my muscles cramping at every step, and you're having a discussion with the SS on a tram? What the HELL were you doing on a tram? The SS was combing the damn city looking for you!"

"I did not have a choice," Klink said. "My alternate routes were unavailable. Unfortunately, things changed since I last used them."

"And when was that?"

"Ten years ago."

"Ten years ago," Hogan said in a voice oozing with disgust.

Klink's smile flickered on. Then he settled against the plane door, studiously avoiding his back.

Hogan glanced at him, seething with suppressed anger. And worry. But he stayed quiet for most of the trip back to Stalag Luft 13.

Captain Elliot Mason knocked on Lt. General Edward Edmondson's door. He entered without waiting for permission, wondering if Edmondson was awake. He needn't have bothered being quiet. Edmondson was staring out the window at the still dark city of London.

"Close the door, Mason," Edmondson said in a quiet voice. "Can't let the enemy see a light from the air. Not that the enemy can put anything up in the air anymore," he added with a faint smile. Then with a sigh, he closed the heavy drapes as Mason turned on the lights. Edmondson then looked at his aide. "Well?"

Mason smiled. "Cleopatra just sent a burst. They're out and on the way back to the camp."

"Thank God." Edmondson sat down on his chair with a sigh. "I'm getting too old for this job, Elliot."

A faint smile from his aide.

"By the way," his boss said, shoving an envelope at him, "like it or not, this is yours." He watched Mason open the envelope and shake out two gold oak leaves. "It's long, long overdue."

"Uh, thank you, sir," Mason said in a neutral voice.

Edmondson grinned. "Oh, don't look so unhappy, Major. You're not going anywhere! It's too hard to break in someone new."

"Thank you, sir!" The new major took off his captain insignia and started to put on the new oak leaves.

"Oh, here!" Edmondson got to his feet impatiently, went to his aide, and affixed the insignia on Mason's collars. "There. Now, you're official. You know, Mason, I really should frock you to a — "

"No, thank you, sir!" Mason interrupted. "I have enough work to do!"

Edmondson grinned and sat behind his desk. He pulled a bottle from the bottom drawer and pushed it to his aide. "Pour us both a drink, Elliot."

Mason smiled and got two water glasses from the sideboard. He looked at the bottle before opening it. "This looks expensive, sir."

Edmondson snorted. "It was. Got it from that shop in Montmartre that Wilhelm mentioned." He took the glass that Mason held out to him. He waited until Mason sat across from him. "Congratulations. And cheers!" He lifted his glass and drank.

Mason did the same and smiled. "Cheers!" Then he looked at the glass. "This really isn't bad."

Edmondson laughed. "I may make a connoisseur out of you yet, Elliot!" He drained the glass and then leaned back against the chair with a sigh. He stared at the glass in his hand. "I've got to put a leash on that man, Mason. The world is getting too dangerous. For us, for him. When Cleopatra told me what his plan was, I was half tempted to turn Patton on Leipzig — the hell with Ike's plans." He looked soberly at his aide. "You know there's a good chance the Nazis might finally figure out who he is."

"I'm sure that Cleopatra and Richard know that, sir. And are doing their best to thwart it."

"I know." Edmondson leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "I know. You know how much stuff that man has in his head? Not just about his operations. But ours, and the Brits, and God knows who else's. And the people he could help take down. Not the big guys — they're easy — but the others. The ones who'd slip through our nets and cause trouble for everyone after the war. You know I have a way to protect him. A way he won't like, and may not even agree to. But . . ." Edmondson poured more cognac into his glass and took a sip. "But the biggest problem is that I can't do it by myself. The paperwork alone to make it legal will be a nightmare. Your nightmare, by the way. But even worse, I need to get General Marshall to agree. And the President . . . And others. And despite everything that's happened, that he's done, I'm not sure they'll agree to it."

"It is, to say the least, unusual," Mason said.

"Yes, it is. But not without precedent going all the way back to the American Revolution. And we've done it on a smaller scale to smaller fry Resistance people. Still . . . " A sharp glance at Mason. "You know I think it's time I opened that packet he gave us, Elliot. After all, I really don't know everything about him. Maybe there's something in it that will convince him and the brass to play along. Get it, please."

Mason smiled and went over to the wall safe. From it, he took a thick sealed file-sized envelope and handed it to his boss.

Edmondson put his glass down and picked up the letter opener. He hesitated for a moment. This was supposed to be opened as a last resort, when hope was gone, or when everything was over. Well, hope wasn't gone — in fact, hope was doing very well, thank you — and everything wasn't over yet. But it was just a matter of time. So, what the hell? If it helped him, it was worth it.

Edmondson slit open the envelope and pulled out a pile of papers. As he expected, it contained everything he needed to know about the organization he'd been working with for a good number of years. Most of it, he already knew, though there were a few surprises. But the last page . . .

He sat up straight, staring at the words. He closed his eyes for a moment. And read it again. And again. Then a broad smile split his face and he stood. And he laughed!

"Mason, you know the expression, 'killing two birds with one stone'?"

"Yes, sir."

He grinned at his aide. "Well, I'm going to do one better. More than one better. I'm going to kill four birds with one stone!" Another laugh and he handed the page to Mason.

Mason took the sheet and read it. And like his boss, he read it again. Then he looked at Edmondson who couldn't stop grinning. Mason handed the page back to Edmondson with a smile.

"Start the ball rolling, Major. You've got a mess of paperwork to do and we've got a trip to take!"