[Wednesday 04 NOV
1942//0545hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
main exercise compound
Present time...
****
Schultz
counted and recounted.
Hogan
and Kinchloe exchanged knowing looks. Olsen and Carter stood military straight,
eyes front, faces devoid of expression.
"You
and you!" Schultz rapped out, pointing first at Olsen then
at Carter. "You were missing last night during the surprise bed check!
Where were you?"
Carter
blinked innocently.
"I
was here for the surprise bed check, Sgt. Schultz. Honest. I like surprises!"
He turned to Olsen and beseeched his help. "Wasn't I here, Olsen? You
saw me, didn't you?"
"Yeah,
I saw you. You were right here." Olsen turned to Schultz and repeated.
"Schultz, Carter was standing right here next to me." He turned to
Hogan, wide-eyed. "Wasn't he, sir? You saw him, didn't
you?"
Hogan
brought his hand up to his chin and studied Carter thoughtfully, as if seeing
him for the first time. Seemingly satisfied, he turned to Schultz. "Yes, I
definitely remember seeing this man here during the surprise bed check. Were
you here for bed check, Carter?"
"Yes,
sir. I sure was."
"And
you saw him, Olsen?"
"Yes,
sir," Olsen said, nodding.
Hogan
turned back to Schultz. "There, see? Carter was right here."
While
this exchange had been going on around him, Schultz had gone from angry to
confused to completely mystified to angry again.
"Nein,
nein, nein! He--" he pointed at Olsen.
"--cannot vouch for him--" He pointed at Carter.
"--if he--" He pointed at Olsen again. "--was also
not here!"
Hogan
walked up to Schultz, and crossing his arms, stood with his feet shoulder width
apart. Eyes narrowed, he tilted his head sideways, studying Schultz as if he
were an alien life form.
"Schultz,
make up your mind! I thought you said that Carter was missing.
But I just showed you that Carter was here all the time. Now
you're saying that it was Olsen who was missing? I can't keep up
with you, Schultz."
"Nein,
Col. Hogan," Schultz spluttered, trying to get in a word edgewise. "I
said that Carter and Olsen were missing--"
"But
that's impossible! How could Olsen have been missing? He just told you that he
was right here with Carter." Keeping his eyes on the totally bemused
Schultz, Hogan called out to Olsen, "Didn't you just say that,
Olsen?"
"I
sure did, sir," Olsen answered self-righteously.
"Carter,
did you see Olsen?" Hogan asked.
"Yes,
sir!" Carter said nodding emphatically. "Like I tried
to tell Schultz earlier. Olsen was right here. Weren't you, Olsen?"
"Yep.
I sure was."
"Did
he tell you that, Schultz?" Hogan asked.
"Ja."
"Well,
there you are," Hogan said, shrugging. "Case closed!"
Schultz
nodded in agreement. "Ja. Here I am. Case closed." He started turning
away, only to turn back hurriedly, waving his arms for added emphasis, his
confusion and denial of the 'facts' as presented back in full force.
"Nein,
nein, nein--!" he began but was interrupted by the arrival of
Newkirk and LeBeau being escorted back from the cooler. Schultz closed his eyes
at the utter futility of trying to untangle the complicated knot in which he
seemed to find himself.
"Detail,
Halt!" ordered the corporal of the guard. He executed a
right turn and saluted Schultz. "Sgt. Schultz, I am returning the
prisoners who were in the cooler. Corporals Newkirk and LeBeau."
Schultz
returned the salute a bit distractedly. He waved at the corporal to return the
prisoners to their place in line. The corporal enthusiastically responded by
prodding the two Allied prisoners into a spot in the front row.
"Okay,
mate...No need to shove!" Newkirk protested.
"Oui!
S'il vous plait--'please' works magic all around the world,"
LeBeau retorted. "That's why you Germans will make lousy world conquerors.
You have terrible manners!"
The
corporal of the guard feinted a move against the small Frenchman, but LeBeau
instantly hid behind Newkirk. The guard waved him off in disgust, glad to be
rid of the two insolent prisoners, and stomped off. As he left, LeBeau stuck
his tongue out at him.
"Yeah,
that's tellin' 'im off, mate," Newkirk said sardonically.
"Hey,
knock it off!" Kinchloe ordered curtly. The two immediately fell silent,
but Hogan caught them furtively making faces at one another. He'd deal with
them later, he promised himself, and turned his attention back to Schultz.
The
portly Sergeant of the Guard was still checking his prisoner roster. He knew
that last night there had been two prisoners missing, but now all prisoners
were present and accounted for.
Hands
on hips, Hogan took this moment to jump in. "Okay, Schultz. I'm
waiting."
"Was?
What are you waiting for, Col. Hogan?" he asked distractedly. "Eins,
zwei...?" he counted softly to himself.
"I'm
waiting for an apology, of course."
"An
apology? I do not understand," Schultz replied haughtily.
"Why,
for everything you put us through last night--bed checks, roll calls, people
shouting, dogs barking, gunfire--into all hours of the night. A guy can't get
any sleep around here!"
Schultz
opened his mouth to interrupt, but Hogan kept going. "And all the while,
there was nobody missing!" He pointed dramatically at Newkirk and LeBeau.
"There are your missing prisoners!"
"What?"
Newkirk asked, startled.
"Qu'est-ce
que?" LeBeau echoed.
"Was?"
Schultz blinked at Hogan, clearly not understanding. Unperturbed, Hogan
shrugged.
"It's
as obvious as the boots on your feet, Schultz!" Hogan insisted. Then,
looking pointedly at Schultz's massive middle, he amended, "Well, you know
what I mean." Sidling up to him, Hogan companionably placed an arm around
the bewildered Sergeant-of-the-guard's shoulders.
"Schultz,
it was an honest mistake," he said sympathetically. "It could've
happened to any of us--right, fellas?"
"Oh,
right!" Newkirk said, having no clue about what was going on.
"Yeah,
boy--uh, I mean--yes, sir!" Carter said, nodding. Several of the prisoners
chimed in in agreement.
"Hey,
coulda happened to anybody!" Olsen said expansively.
"Honest
mistake!" LeBeau chimed in.
"Like
the Fuehrer opening a Second Front!" Kinchloe added. This was met with
raucous laughter from the other prisoners.
"Jolly
joker," Schultz muttered. Hogan held his hand up, to forestall any more
'helpful' comments.
"See,
Schultz? We understand. It was all a misunderstanding."
"Col.
Hogan," Schultz said in a small voice. "I do not understand. Please,
explain to me how two soldiers were missing last night, but this morning there
are no soldiers missing?"
"That's
what I've been trying to tell you, Schultz. No one was ever missing. You made
an honest mistake. You counted two soldiers missing, because two soldiers were
missing!"
"They
were? But you just said that no one was
missing--?" Schultz protested.
"That's
the beauty of it, Schultz! They weren't really missing!" Hogan walked up
to Newkirk and LeBeau and standing between them, placed a hand on their
shoulders.
Schultz
sighed. "First you say they were not missing.
Then you say they were missing. Now you say they were not
missing again. Col. Hogan, you are giving me a headache!"
"Schultz,
don't you get it? You just forgot that Newkirk and LeBeau were in
the cooler. See? That's why it looked like you had two missing men, when they
weren't--missing that is."
"I
need to sit down," Schultz muttered.
"Report!"
Klink's shrill voice shattered the morning.
"Uh-oh,"
Hogan muttered. He spoke quickly and quietly into Schultz's ear. "Here's
your chance, Schultz. Admit a mistake--that prisoners were never missing, or
explain how two men were able to escape from Stalag 13, under your
watch, and then were somehow able to sneak back in."
"Schultz!"
Klink yelled, stomping towards them. "What is going on here?
Col. Hogan, why are you not in formation along with the other prisoners?"
Hogan irreverently touched a couple fingers to his cap and took his place in
line. "Schultz, what is the status of the missing prisoners? And let me
remind you...There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13! If you do
not find those men--and soon--it will be on your head!"
Schultz
immediately snapped to attention and saluted smartly. "Jahwohl,
Herr Kommandant! All prisoners present and accounted for!"
"Very
well, very well," Klink said dismissively. "Report to me as soon as
there's a change in status--!" He stopped, open-mouthed. "What did
you say?"
Hogan
shook his head in exaggerated admiration. "Amazing how that razor sharp
mind catches on, isn't it?" He glanced askance at Kinchloe, who rolled his
eyes.
"All
present, Herr Kommandant," Schultz repeated. Klink spun round on his heel
and quickly began to pace up and down the prisoner formation.
"But
how is that possible?" he asked. "Last night, there was an escape
attempt--two men were missing!"
"Nein,
Herr Kommandant!" Schultz said, trying to explain, although he himself
still wasn't entirely sure about what had happened. "You see...I counted
two men missing. And there were--two missing, I mean. But they weren't--missing,
that is. They were in the cooler--"
"Schultz!
Dumkopf!" Klink yelled in exasperation. "You are making no
sense. First, they were missing! Then they weren't missing--!"
"That's
what I said, Herr Kommandant," Schultz broke in excitedly. "To Col.
Hogan--"
"Hogan?
What does he have to do with this?" Klink asked, immediately
walking towards the senior POW. "I knew it! You are somehow responsible
for this--this fiasco!"
He
waved his finger under Hogan's nose for emphasis. For his part, Hogan met the
Kommandant's angry eyes calmly. Crossing his arms, he cocked his head to one
side and raised a single eyebrow.
"Can
you be more specific, Kommandant?" he asked. "Just what exactly am I
supposed to be responsible for?"
"The
two missing men," Klink insisted. "You are somehow responsible for
that!"
"But
they're not missing, Kommandant," Hogan said blandly. "Like Schultz
said. All Allied prisoners are present and accounted for."
"But
last night...there were two men missing--"
"No,
Herr Kommandant," Schultz broke in helpfully. "They were in the
cooler. Remember? You assigned them there--"
"I
know what I did, Dumkopf!" Klink snapped, his anger and
confusion escalating. Visibly calming himself, Klink glared at Hogan, and
through clenched teeth, said, "Col. Hogan, are you trying to make me
believe that there were never any men missing?"
Hogan
just smiled and shrugged.
"But
you, yourself, told me that there was going to be an escape attempt last
night," Klink reminded him. "Remember?"
Hogan's
eyes took on a faraway look, as if trying to recall some distant memory.
Finally, his expression cleared and his dark eyes suddenly hardened. He gazed
coldly at Klink. "I don't seem to recall any such conversation,
Kommandant."
Klink
jerked back slightly as if struck, his coloring rising. One hand closed tightly
around his riding crop, while the other balled into a fist, which he shook
feebly at Hogan.
Realizing
the lack of dignity in such a pathetic action, he turned the fist into a
salute, and held it until Hogan was forced to return it. Smirking, Hogan
flicked off a casual salute.
"Dis-misssed!"
Klink commanded angrily. Ignoring the sudden snickers coming from the enlisted
prisoner ranks, he whirled round and started towards his office. A sudden
thought struck him, and he stopped midway.
He
did it again! he
fumed. Hogan did it again, and this time in full view of the whole
company. The American officer had once again thumbed his nose under the pretext
of saluting him.
Hand
closing in a fist, Klink turned round to lambaste the insolent senior POW, but
Hogan was already walking through his barracks door, surrounded by well-wishers
who were pounding him on the back. Klink vainly shook his fist, and then
brought it down, shoving it in his overcoat pocket.
Why
couldn't he be as popular with his own men, he wondered? Bah! That is why
the Allies will lose the war. They are too soft. He turned and walked
slowly back into his office.
****
[Wednesday 04 NOV
1942//1449hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
Barracks #2
****
"Colonel!"
Carter pushed open the door to Hogan's quarters even as he was knocking. He
stopped, saluting awkwardly. Hogan looked up impatiently from his plans. It was
close to 1500 hrs, and he was no closer to finalizing the operation.
Of
course, it's hard to plan when you don't know what equipment you're gonna have,
he pointed out ruefully. Or
how many men. Or how we're gonna get out of here. Or--he stopped, realizing
that Carter was waiting, ramrod straight, for him to return his salute.
Still
holding his pencil, Hogan touched it lightly to his temple by way of saluting.
The young sergeant remained at attention.
"At
ease, Carter," Hogan said, curiously. "What can I do for you?"
"Sir!
Sgt. Kinchloe sent me to get you. Someone's coming through the gate--!"
"Why
didn't you say so?" Hogan grabbed his hat and ran out of the barracks. Whoever
it was could be no one important. Then again--? As soon as he stepped
outside, he slowed to a nonchalant stroll. Carter, of course, didn't stop in
time and slammed into Hogan's back.
"Oops!
Oh, boy...I'm-um, s-sorry, sir!" he stuttered. Hogan didn't bother to turn
around. He just waved the distressed young man into silence and continued
heading towards Kinchloe.
"Forget
it, Carter. I have great insurance coverage," Hogan said over his
shoulder. "It'll even cover a so-called 'accident of war.'"
"Really?"
Carter asked ingenuously. "My folks' insurance will take care of 'em even
when they're--"
"--Never
mind, Carter," Hogan said, cutting him off. He came up to
Kinchloe. Neither man spoke. Kinchloe simply nodded towards a small truck with
a closed, rear compartment pulling up to the dog kennel. A sign on the driver's
side said, 'Oscar Schnitzer, Tierarzt.'
As
they watched, the truck stopped next to the kennel gate. The driver immediately
got out, walked around to the back, and opened the double doors. As soon as he
did, the prisoners heard the sound of vicious dogs barking coming from within.
The driver whistled softly and the deep-throated growls ceased, replaced by
playful yelps and whines.
"Arnwolf...Manfred...Kommen
sie hier!" Two German shepherds jumped out and ran around the driver,
barking and jumping excitedly. He spoke in low, soothing tones as he opened the
gate and escorted the animals into the kennel. Once inside, he started calling
each dog already there.
"Hansel...Wolfgang!"
Instantly, two dogs ran out of the doghouse and greeted him, barking happily.
"Bismarck! Wo bist du?" The solid black German shepherd that
had befriended Kinchloe the night before bounded out of nowhere, tail wagging.
The handler spoke softly to them, crooning in 'doggie-talk.'
As
he worked, he started whistling. The sound carried clearly in the brisk, autumn
afternoon. Instantly, Hogan and Kinchloe jerked to attention. The recognition
signal!
"Hey,
boy!" Carter said excitedly. "That's one of my favorite songs. Shirley
Temple sang it in The Little Stowaway." He paused. "Well, she
didn't sing it. Alice Faye sang it. Little Shirley sang it with different
lyrics. Let's see..." And to the others' surprise began singing completely
unselfconsciously.
"Goodnight,
my love, the tired old moon is descending.
Goodnight,
my love, my moment with you now is ending--"
Kinchloe
jabbed him in the ribs. "Knock it off, Carter!"
"No,
wait, Kinch," Hogan said thoughtfully, an idea taking form. "I think
that what this dump needs is a little livening up. A bit of good, old-fashioned
Americana. Go on, Carter," he urged. "Finish the song. Kinch and I'll
join you."
Timidly,
Carter started singing.
"Goodnight,
my love, the tired old moon is descending.
Goodnight,
my love, my moment with you now is ending--"
Grinning,
Hogan joined in and waved at Kinchloe to do the same.
"It
was so heavenly...holding you...close to me,
It
will be heavenly to hold you again in a dream."
Soon
all three were belting out the pleasant tune, slightly off key, but
nevertheless enough to garner them attention from the other POWs. Catching
Newkirk's eye, Hogan waved him and the other prisoners over.
"The
stars above have promised to meet us tomorrow.
Till then, my love, how dreary the new day will seem..."
Within
minutes, their little trio had grown into a small glee club, and soon after
that, a fifty-man chorus.
"So for the present dear, we'll have to part.
Sleep
tight, my love, goodnight my love..."
As
the group grew in size, Hogan waved at Newkirk, and using hand and arm signals
indicated he wanted him to keep the sing-along going. Newkirk understood
instantly that something was up and did as told.
"Remember
that you're mine, sweetheart."
When
they reached the end of the song, Newkirk called for attention. "Okay, you
bloomin' Yanks, that was a bit of all right! But how about serenading our
bloody German friends here with a little 'Lilli Marlene'?"
His
question was met with an enthusiastic chorus of "Yea's." 'Lilli
Marlene' might be a German song, but it was popular on both sides of the war.
As
the opening strains of the well-worn song started--
Darling, I remember the way you used to wait..."
--Kinchloe
helped Hogan slip towards the back of the group. While the POWs were belting
out the popular tune, Hogan used the distraction to make his way towards the
dog kennel. Reaching the truck, he furtively climbed into the passenger side.
The driver was already waiting for him.
"Talk!"
Hogan said sharply.
"The
notebook. Do you have it?"
"Not
so fast. Who are you? How do I know you're not Gestapo?"
"My
name is Oskar Schnitzer. I am der tierarzt--the veterinarian. And
you are 'Goldilocks.'" He grinned at Hogan's surprised expression.
"Gen. Duncan warned us that to say that to you would be on pain of
death."
"Okay,
I believe you're who you say you are," Hogan admitted sourly. Reaching
into his bomber jacket he pulled out the notebook and handed it to Schnitzer,
who put it away.
"So,
talk!" Hogan repeated.
Schnitzer
shook his head. "Nein! We cannot talk here. You must come tonight
to Hammelburg to der Buchladen--the bookstore. We will meet there."
"And
just how do you propose I get out of here? The Kommandant isn't in the habit of
giving prisoners of war overnight passes into town."
"I
will return tonight," Schnitzer reassured him. "I'm afraid that my
poor Manfred is going to become quite ill tonight."
Hogan
looked shocked. "You're not going to purposely to make one of your own
dogs sick? That's inhuman!"
Schnitzer
vehemently shook his head. "Nein, nein. I have put a sleeping
potion in his food container. When he is fed tonight, he will go to sleep. He
is slated for guard duty tonight, so the Sergeant of the Guard should easily
notice that something is wrong."
"Who,
Schultz? Notice anything? Fat chance of that. I'd better be out here and make
sure that he definitely notices something and calls you."
"Ah,
you know our Schultz already," Schnitzer laughed. "Very well. The
guards usually feed the dogs at around 6:00 pm. The potion should take effect
about a half hour after he eats."
"I'll
be ready," Hogan promised. With that, he slipped out of the cab, and soon
rejoined the chorus, which at this time was belting out 'Don't Sit Under the
Apple Tree.'
Catching
Kinchloe's eye, he jerked his head towards the barracks. Meet me there,
he said silently. Kinchloe nodded his acknowledgement.
****
[Wednesday 04 NOV
1942//1830hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
near the dog kennel
****
"Halt!
Who goes there?" Schultz barked, his rifle at ready.
Hogan
rolled his eyes, and walked up behind the 'alert' Sergeant of the Guard,
tapping him between the shoulder blades.
"The
Kaiser!" he said sarcastically. Startled, Schultz jumped, almost dropping
his weapon.
Gasping
for breath, he faced Hogan, while clutching his chest. "The Kaiser?"
he rasped. "Jolly joker...What are you trying to do? Give me a heart
attack?"
"Sorry,
Schultz," Hogan said, an unapologetic gleam in his eye.
"Col.
Hogan, what are you doing outside the barracks? No one is allowed outside after
dark." Even though it was early evening, it was already dark.
Grabbing
Hogan suddenly by the arm, he asked nervously. "You're not planning an
escape, are you? I am in so much trouble after reporting two men missing who
weren't missing, but who were--" He stopped, confused.
Hogan
crossed his arms and shook his head. He tsked disingenuously.
"Well, as a matter of fact, I'm out here scouting for the best way
to--"
Schultz
suddenly shut his eyes and placed his hands over his ears. "No!
I do not want to know! It-is-better-if-I-know-nothing!"
In his agitation, the portly sergeant evenly spaced each of his words for
emphasis.
Resting
his right elbow on his left hand, Hogan brought his right hand up to his chin.
Single eyebrow raised, he watched Schultz quizzically,. "Y'know, I'm
worried about you, Schultz. At this rate, you won't be around much
longer--"
Schultz
leaned in anxiously. "Why do you say that? Have you heard something? Am I
being sent to the Russian Front?"
Giving
a short laugh, Hogan waved off Schultz's worries. "Nothing of the kind, my
friend. I meant your blood pressure. Look at you, Schultz...you're so nervous, you're
making me jumpy!" Placing his arm around Schultz's massive
shoulders, Hogan began leading him towards the kennel.
"You
need to take it easy, Schultz. Learn to relax. Go on furlough."
"Furlough?"
Schultz asked sardonically. "You don't think the Big Shot would ever grant
me a furlough?"
"Well,
you never can tell, Schultz. Would you like me to put in a good word for
you?"
"You
would do that for me, Col. Hogan?" Schultz asked, touched.
"You
betcha!" Hogan said expansively. "After all, what're friends for,
right?"
"Danke,
Col. Hogan," Schultz said, gratefully.
"So,
tell me. What do you guys do around here for fun anyway?"
"We
do not have fun. Der Kommandant does not allow it--"
"Doesn't
allow it?" Hogan asked aghast. "The monster!"
"Ja!"
"Well, look...the guys over at Barracks Three are planning a wine and cheese tasting party in a couple of nights--"
"Wine
and cheese? But where will they get--?"
"Well,
Schultz. That's where you come in. See, I have a list of items
we'll need for the party right here, and--"
"Unteroffizier Schultz!" came a shout from the direction of the dog kennel.
"Kommen Sie hier, bitte! Der hund--Wolfgang--ist sehr krank!"
"Was
ist los?" Schultz
muttered, hurrying towards the kennel.
"What's
the matter, Schultz?" Hogan asked feigning confusion.
"One
of the dogs is sick," Schultz said hurriedly, going through the kennel
gate. "Col. Hogan, stay out here. It is too dangerous for you to enter.
The dogs are trained to attack prisoners."
"I
understand," Hogan agreed. He waited outside the kennel, watching and
listening.
"~Sergeant
Schultz, shouldn't we call the veterinarian to let him know?~"
"Jahwohl,"
Schultz replied. "~Run to the guard shack and call him. Tell him it is an
emergency.~"
"Well,
I'd better head back to the barracks, Schultz," Hogan said. "I can
see that you're gonna have your hands full for the next few minutes."
Schultz
nodded distractedly. "Wolfgang..." he crooned, stroking the dog
gently. "There, there, there...the doctor will be here soon..."
Hogan
started back towards the barracks, but as soon he came to the alley between
buildings, he ducked in and waited.
Within
the half-hour, Schnitzer's truck pulled up. Now that's service,
Hogan thought. Of course, it helps if you prearranged the emergency.
Schnitzer
parked the truck, driver's side next to the gate, blocking Schultz's view of
Hogan's hiding place. As soon as the truck stopped, Hogan ran at a low crouch
towards it. Waiting for Schnitzer to first open the back door nearest towards
the kennel, Hogan quickly used it as cover and jumped into the back.
Schnitzer
pointed at a pile of heavy canvas in the rear. Nodding in understanding, Hogan
lifted the tarpaulin and slid underneath it.
****
End of Part 6