A/N: Alright, folks. You read Klink's life story, now it's Hogan's turn to share his backstory with you guys. Writing this one was quite a challenge, but I'm pretty proud with how it turned out for the most part. There's a lot of shadows Hogan has to fight through growing up, but it all helps him become the fair and strong colonel we all know and love today. I'm still on my writing break, but like I said before, I've got a few stories in stock that I can post until I come back to writing. I hope you enjoy Hogan's story as much as I love Hogan and his portrayer Bob Crane. Happy reading!
Chapter 1:
Nothing but laughter and music filled Klink's quarters that night. Officers and kommandanten of different stalags had all come to Stalag 13 for Klink's annual Christmas party, while snow gently fell outside and covered the ground in a cold blanket of white. Even Burkhalter had come to enjoy the festivities and company of other Luftwaffe officers. Christmas music or German folk songs played on a record player in the corner of the living area as Klink and his guests either danced, drank, or made casual conversation and jokes that only a German would understand.
Newkirk, Kinch, and Carter wore their waiter outfits and served drinks or Christmas cookies to the guests, while LeBeau worked in the kitchen trying to bake an assortment of desserts and Christmas treats. Cookies, brownies, German Christmas bread, pfeffernuesse, the list could go on. It was pretty easy-going for the French chef for the most part, but Newkirk every once and a while had to come into the kitchen and make sure Schultz was not stuffing his face with all the food or hogging the beer and eggnog.
As for Hogan, he quietly watched from one side of the room, taking occasional sips from his glass of brandy. His leather jacket and crush cap hung from a coat rack near the door, displaying his khaki shirt and uniform tie. He felt a smile come to his face as he watched little Kalina Klink dance with Carter as a Christmas jingle began to play. The 15-year-old wore black flats and a dark red dress with white lace at the collar and sleeve cuffs, a white ribbon tied in a bow pulling part of her teddy bear brown hair back into a halo ponytail.
Across the room, Klink had four other colonels gathered around him, all five of them laughing at something in particular. One of them, a tall man with curly brown hair known as Colonel Mueller, was the last to stop chuckling and turned to the kommandant. "Ah Klink, you always know how to throw a marvelous Christmas party," he said sincerely. "Had it not be for our uniforms, you couldn't even tell we were in the middle of a war tonight."
"Thank you, Colonel. I always try to make my Christmas parties memorable ones," Klink answered, a half-full glass of brandy in his right hand.
"Perhaps we can hear your famous daughter play a little piano for us in a bit, no?" Another colonel, Neuhaus, suggested.
"Yes, General Burkhalter is always telling me how she plays when he has staff meetings here. Apparently as good as Bach himself had," Mueller said, gesturing towards where Kalina twirled around in a circle underneath some fake snowflakes hanging from the ceiling.
A third colonel, a blonde man known as Bernauer, crossed his arms. "Hmph," he said. "No one can play piano as well as my brother-in-law."
Neuhaus turned to his left and scoffed at his colleague's comment. "Only when he's drunk, though," he remarked, causing the group of colonels to burst out laughing again.
"I don't find that very funny," Bernauer replied, in a sour tone.
"Then perhaps you are not drunk enough yet," Mueller told him. "On the bright side, the night is still young."
Neuhaus chuckled at the expression on Bernauer's face. "Lighten up, would you? The holidays are supposed to be cheerful."
"Indeed," Klink agreed. He took a sip of his brandy. "Although I think I may have to prohibit Major Schiff from drinking any more alcohol tonight. He – what is he doing?"
Bernauer peered at the tipsy Luftwaffe major. "I think he's drawing his weapon, but that wouldn't make any sense. It's a bit difficult to see with all these people in the way."
"No, you're right. Klink, he's standing quite close to your Senior POW Officer," Mueller warned. "If –"
Yet he never got a chance to finish his statement before Schiff fired the gun.
A large red spot appeared on the left side of Hogan's stomach, causing the colonel to gasp, put his hand over his wound, and fall to the floor.
Klink hurried over to him in a panic. "Hogan! Hogan, hang on." Then he turned an icy stare on the major. "Drop your weapon, Schiff! What have you done?"
"Hit the bullseye at the shooting range, what else?" He slurred. "Nailed it."
"You dummkopf, this isn't a shooting range; what did you put in that beer anyways?!"
"Quit your arguing, and call an ambulance already. He's bleeding a lot," Kinch barked, not giving a damn for protocol at that moment. He went back to looking at his commander, who was quickly surrounded by the rest of his men and Kalina. Kinch knelt down on the colonel's right, while Newkirk sat on the left and pressed down hard on Hogan's wound with a white towel, which was turning red rapidly.
"I've been...I've been shot," Hogan gasped, his breathing fast and labored. His bloodied left hand lay above his wound and clutched his belly as if it relieved him of some amount of pain.
"Hold on, Colonel," Carter said, trying to swallow his fear down for Kalina's sake. "Help is coming, boy."
Hogan looked through the slits of his eyes at the blurred sight of his friends. They were all hovering over him and encouraging him to stay awake and that help was on the way. Their voices soon blended together into a bunch of gibberish, and the massive blood loss he was currently suffering from became too much for him. Hogan closed his eyes, and his head fell slightly to the left as he went into shock.
"Colonel?" Kinch asked. "Colonel. God dammit, he's in shock."
"Where the bloody hell is that ambulance?" Newkirk hollered frantically.
Klink hurried to the small group, while Burkhalter and Langenscheidt addressed the drunk Luftwaffe major, who had now blackout from how drunk he was. "Ambulance is on its way. They instructed that Corporal Newkirk continue to try and stop the bleeding as much as he can," the kommandant reported.
Newkirk, who was using a second towel, tried to press down as hard as he could, but the blood continued to come, causing the new towel to quickly darken as fast as the first one had.
"Come on, Gov'nor. Hang in there just a little longer, Sir," the Englishman pleaded. "Help is coming. Help will be here soon, Sir, just hold on."
"He's bleeding a lot, do something." Carter cried.
"I can't, I'm not a doctor." Kinch hollered, as the faint sound of an ambulance siren gradually became louder and louder and eventually came to an abrupt stop. The door to the kommandant's office slammed open, and two paramedics rushed in with a gurney and portable medical equipment.
"Get back, get back! Was haben wir? What do we got?" The leading paramedic asked, kneeling down where Newkirk had once sat and prepared an oxygen mask to go over Hogan's face.
"Gunshot wound to the lower left abdomen," Kinch reported. "Do something, he's losing blood and fast."
Kalina, who had been in complete shock up until now, felt the hot tears streaming down her face and began to sob as anxiety gripped tight to her body. "Colonel Hogan." She cried, quickly being taken into her father's arms.
"He'll be alright, suße," Klink said comfortingly, hushing his little girl every now and then. "He'll be alright, Colonel Hogan will be alright."
Kalina continued to cry uncontrollably and buried her face into her father's belly, while everyone else looked on helplessly at Hogan, praying to God that the paramedics would be able to save his life before it was too late.
As paramedics quickly rushed Hogan into a vacant spot in the emergency room, Dr. Richard Klaussner soon joining their side with his medical team, Klink, Hogan's men, and Kalina all followed from behind and stopped when one of the nurse's stepped in front of them and held her hands out.
"I need everyone to stand back while Dr. Klaussner treats him," she ordered, trying to sound more kind than firm. "We need room to work."
"Just help him, please help him." Carter exclaimed, fighting back the tears that stung the corners of his eyes.
"Give me his vitals; what are they?" Klaussner asked one of the paramedics.
"He's lost a lot of blood. BP's low; vitals are dropping fast," the leading paramedic reported.
"Heart rate is 160, Doctor," a nurse added.
Klaussner turned to his assistant, Dr. Hans Schnauzer. "Get a tray full of surgical tools sterilized and ready. I'll have to perform surgery here," he ordered.
"Jawohl, Herr Doktor," Schnauzer said, and bolted off to grab the necessary equipment for emergency surgery.
Klaussner snapped his attention to another doctor. "Get a blood transfusion of A- blood going now," he said.
"Already on it, Doctor," the medic answered, inserting an IV with blood into the crook of Hogan's right arm. The colonel already had an IV in each hand, a blood pressure cuff on his left arm, a tube inserted in his mouth supplying general anesthesia, and was hooked up to a running EKG machine.
While the Head Surgeon of Hammelburg Memorial Hospital continued to work, Hogan's men and little Kalina looked on in utter fear, their faces pale from anxiety and anguish, while their hands and legs shook violently.
"This is bad," LeBeau murmured. "This is très, très, très mal."
"Do you see how much blood he's losing? I don't think that's normal for an ordinary gunshot wound." Carter added.
"Dr. Klaussner's doing everything he can, guys," Kinch said, Kalina wrapped in his arms. "Colonel's faced the odds before, he can do it again. We've just gotta keep praying and hoping, and Colonel Hogan will fight as hard as he can. Gonna take more than a little bullet to kill him."
"You don't...you don't think he's in any pain, do you?" Kalina whimpered, looking up at the radioman with wet eyes.
"No, kiddo, he's alright. I'm sure Colonel Hogan's gonna…" Kinch stopped midway when the five of them heard a long beep begin to blare throughout the emergency room. They all turned their frantic expressions to where Hogan lay, and Klaussner turned his head to a nurse at the nearby nurse's station.
"Get a crash cart in here now! He's coding!" He hollered.
The nurse did as ordered without question and rapidly returned with a tray full of syringes filled with epinephrine and a bag valve mask, Schnauzer following from behind with the surgical tool tray. He took the nurse's place next to the crash cart and prepared the first vial of epinephrine to give Hogan intracardically. Another medic took the bag valve mask, placed it over Hogan's mouth, and began squeezing the bottle with his hands while Klaussner took count up to five seconds. By the time he reached five, Schnauzer had the first syringe ready, tore open the upper part of Hogan's shirt, and forcefully injected the epinephrine into his body as Klaussner called out 'Stand clear.' Unfortunately, he was met with no response, and the EKG machine continued to blare out.
"Up dosage to three milligrams," Klaussner ordered.
Schnauzer did as told and gave Hogan another intracardiac injection. Again, he was met with no response.
"Stand clear!" Klaussner commanded, while Hogan's men and Kalina looked on with wide eyes, all of them gripping onto each other tightly and barely able to breathe. Their bodies locked, and they felt a startling chill running throughout their veins as they watched their beloved friend and commanding officer lie there lifelessly.
Schnauzer gave a final injection of epinephrine, but there was no response. Hogan lay there with darkened eyelids and a bluish-gray complexion, the EKG machine continued to squeal with alarm.
The assistant turned to Klaussner, who watched the flat line continue to print out from the machine for a long moment before letting out a shaky sigh. He closed his eyes as he tried to prepare himself for the words he never wanted to utter. "We've lost him," he said softly.
Kalina shook her head, her body wracking with violent fear as tears streamed down her face, and her heart began to feel like it was being stabbed.
Newkirk put a hand over his mouth, tears of his own coming down his cheeks, while Carter and LeBeau were already sniffling and trying to keep themselves from losing it entirely. Kinch simply stood there with a haunted look in his eyes, his brain not sure of how to react. He was gone. Hogan was gone.
Klaussner sulked his way over to Klink, who was standing there with his mouth hanging ajar. He was in just as much shock as Kinch was in over the ordeal. The kommandant did not want to believe it. He couldn't believe it. Hogan. Dead. He did not think there was a crueler way to make Hogan's men and his baby girl suffer than to stand in silence and watch as their beloved friend succumbed to his injuries.
Klaussner turned his eyes up to Klink, trying to fight back his own grief for the loss of his close friend, and shook his head. "I'm so sorry," he croaked, and had to walk away with Schnauzer and the others at that point to hide the tears slipping down his wrinkled face.
Kalina parted from Kinch's side and made her way to Hogan, who had become a second papa to her. She shook her head as she stared down at his lifeless body, choked out a few sobs, then wrapped her arms around him despite all the blood, buried her face into his chest and began to cry uncontrollably. Kinch was soon at her right and placed a gentle hand on her little shoulder as he silently grieved himself.
Carter and LeBeau let out a short scream before it turned into hysterical sobbing, the two men hugging one another in order to try and comfort the other. Klink forgot all about military protocol at that moment and quietly cried over the loss of his closest and only friend, while Newkirk buried his face against a vacant room door to hide his tears and pounded his fist against it.
"I told him he'd be alright," he croaked, then began to scream as well. "I TOLD HIM HE'D BE ALRIIIIIIIGHT!"
Kalina woke up screaming, then realized she was in her room as her breathing gradually slowed down. The sound of music coming from the living area and the laughter of her father and his fellow colleagues at his Christmas party told her she was safe and it had been nothing more than a horrible nightmare...or was it?
With fear engulfing her body, Kalina climbed out of her bed, put on her slippers and light pink bathrobe, then walked over to the only window in her room and opened it as a diversion for her route of escape. Satisfied, she walked into her closet to one of the side walls, banged it softly three times, and watched as a secret door opened and revealed a fireman's pole leading down to the underground tunnel network beneath Stalag 13.
Kalina grabbed a tight hold of the pole and slid down to the tunnel floor as the secret doorway closed again. She had to get to barracks two. She had to make sure it had been nothing but a nightmare...or she was not sure what she would do.