The Eagle and the Cross

Summary: When a clandestine meeting with the Underground goes wrong, Hogan takes refuge in a church.

Special Thanks: To Zoey for her encouragement and keen-eyed criticism. What a pal!

Author's Note: ~"Dialogue"~ denotes that a foreign language is being spoken, usually German.

Disclaimer: Hogan's Heroes is owned by Paramount, Viacom and others; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome!

Copyright May 2001

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The Eagle and the Cross

By Syl Francis

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"...Heaven still guards the right." (Richard II)

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[Sunday 22 NOV 1942//2240hrs local]

Kirchestrasse, Kitzingen, Germany

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His foot struck an uneven spot on the sidewalk. He stumbled, falling headlong. Recovering sufficiently to maintain his feet, he continued on his desperate flight. The pain from his left shoulder area was a white-hot agony. He tried to apply pressure to the wound as he ran, but could feel his life's blood slowly seeping away.

Sirens blared throughout the tiny hamlet, punctuating the cold, clear night with their high-pitched wails. Half-timbered houses dating back to the early Renaissance stood starkly in the silvery sheen of the full moon like so many silent sentinels, watching...waiting.

He could almost feel a thousand pairs of eyes glaring down at him from behind the blacked-out windows.

As he ran, he thought back on the deadly turn of events. He still couldn't believe it. The whole thing had been a setup! Luckily, some sixth sense had warned him, and instead of proceeding directly to Kitzingen's sole inn, the Kaiser Gasthaus as instructed, he'd watched from across the street in an alley.

Just as he'd decided that it was safe to proceed, the Gestapo arrived in force. They raided the small inn and soon emerged with four men in custody. That was when his luck ran out...

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Earlier that evening...

[Sunday 22 NOV 1942//2130hrs local]

Kaiserstrasse, Kitzingen, Germany

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"Achtung! Halt!" a Gestapo officer shouted, pointing at him. Hogan instantly ducked back into the alley as several shots rang out. He heard a sharp impact on the brick wall less than an inch above him. Taking off down the alley, he could hear the sound of pounding boots following close behind, bullets ricocheting close at his heels.

Hogan took a flying leap, landing behind a stack of crates. Coming up, he fired three shots in rapid succession, and whirling around, then spun and sprinted deeper into the alley. Ahead, a high stonewall blocked his way. Several options flashed through his mind, which he instantly discarded.

Spotting another set of boxes at the foot of the wall, Hogan used them as a stepladder, and grabbing the top edge of the wall, quickly pulled himself up. Just as he was about to scramble to safety, another volley of shots rained lead all around him.

He cried out involuntarily as a searing hot iron slammed into his shoulder, the force of the impact sending him toppling over to the other side. Fighting against the pain, he stumbled into the darkness...

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Present time...

[Sunday 22 NOV 1942//2245hrs local]

Kirchestrasse, Kitzingen, Germany

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The sound of tires screeching behind him abruptly brought him back to the present. Hogan ducked into a doorway, his dark clothing blending into the deep shadows. Holding his pistol ready, he waited.

The patrol car roared by, its siren shattering the quiet of the quaint cobbled street. In the moonlight, it looked like something out of a Hans Christian Andersen storybook.

He heard a dog begin to bark, a lonely mournful song. It was soon joined by several others, a veritable canine chorus.

Leaning against the cold, stone masonry, Hogan closed his eyes and took deep calming breaths. He had to get back to the rendezvous. Warn the others. He felt the warm wetness from the gunshot wound. He was growing weaker, he knew.

He jumped when a church bell immediately overhead tolled the quarter hour. Looking around, he realized that he was standing in the side entrance to a large church.

The sirens! They're coming back! He fumbled with the door handle. Locked!

The patrol car's headlights turned the corner. No time! Placing the muzzle of the weapon's silencer directly onto the lock, he squeezed the trigger.

A soft ~phffft!~ was quickly followed by the door opening. Ducking inside, he shut it behind him and listened. He could hear the patrol car drive by, slower this time.

A sudden change in the dark interior's lighting warned him--a searchlight!

Instantly, he crouched next to the door, weapon ready. He blinked against the perspiration in his eyes. His harsh breathing grated in his ears. He tried to swallow around the dryness in his throat.

A second siren!

His world began to tilt on its axis, like Goldilocks when he banked her on a hard turn. Thinking of his B17 Flying Fortress brought an odd feeling of euphoria washing over him. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

Stay focused, Colonel! he growled. You've got the Krauts inside a ten-K radius looking for you!

He listened tensely as the second German patrol approached. It soon rumbled by without stopping, its siren wailing. Closing his eyes in relief, he slid down to the floor. As he did, he felt himself losing his last remaining grasp on reality...

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[Sunday 22 NOV 1942//2305hrs local]

St. Johanniskirche, Kitzingen

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Hogan awoke with a start. Where was he? He found himself lying facedown on a hard, cold floor. Marble? he wondered. The church! He remembered an imposing, gothic steeple, overlooking the center of the small town--St. Johanniskirche.

He shivered suddenly, feeling a bone-deep chill. The Gestapo! Hogan had to get to the rendezvous. Kinch and Newkirk would be waiting for him. They had to find a way to rescue the four underground leaders. The men were probably being transferred to Gestapo Headquarters in Wurzburg, almost ten kilometers west of Kitzingen.

Tonight was supposed to have been a get acquainted meeting between Hogan and the leaders of four different underground cells operating in the vicinity of Stalag 13. It was supposed to have been a chance to coordinate sabotage efforts, establish priorities, exchange vital information.

A searing pain radiating from his left shoulder reminded him that he was wounded. Time to go, Colonel! he told himself. He placed his right hand down and pushed up, bringing his knees up under him.

"Uhhnn...Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed." Hogan sat up slowly and slouched against the wall, trying to regain his strength. That wasn't so hard, was it, Colonel? he asked. Now you've only got about another three K's to get to the rendezvous.

At a startled gasp from his right, he instantly brought up his Luger.

A young woman stood outlined in a golden circle of light, cast by the single candle she held. She stared, wide-eyed with fear. Hogan's dark, brown eyes bored into hers.

Time seemed to slow...

He could feel a drop of perspiration wend its way down his left temple and splash onto the floor below. His blood pounded in his ears, in time to the hammering in his chest. He breath rasped as he breathed in and out...

The blink of an eye passed and her initial wide-eyed stare changed to haughty anger. She raised her chin defiantly, glaring at him.

"~Are you going to shoot me?~" she demanded. Hogan didn't answer, but neither did he lower his weapon. She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"~Please, it is late, and I still have much to do. If you are not going to shoot me, then put that thing away. This is the House of God, after all!~"

Without taking his eyes off her, he nodded and lowered his weapon.

"~Don't try anything,~" he warned. At least that was what he'd intended on saying, but it came out as little more than croak.

"~You are hurt!~" she cried, taking a sudden step towards him. Instantly, the Luger snapped up again, aimed directly at her heart.

"~Don't--!~" he gritted. He watched her through blurring vision. Her figure seemed to approach and recede much like a badly out-of-focus film.

She stopped in her tracks, fear warring with anger and concern in her lovely eyes. "~Please...let me help.~" Her voice was softer, gentle. "~I promise that I mean you no harm.~"

Hogan's arm shook from the effort of holding the weapon steady. Realizing that he couldn't keep his arm up any longer, he nodded and again lowered the weapon. Blinking through the haze distorting his vision, he watched, mesmerized by the circle of light that surrounded her, creating a halo effect.

He grinned lopsidedly, feeling lightheaded as if he were floating. "Are you an angel?" he whispered. She was kneeling next to him, checking his pulse and feeling his forehead. At his question, she have him a startled glance.

"You speak English?" she asked. Confused, Hogan shook his head. Had he slipped back into English, he wondered?

"Never heard of it," he denied. She smiled with her eyes, amused.

"I see." Abruptly, her smile turned to concern. "You have lost a great amount of blood. What happened?"

"Bad guys..." he mumbled.

"The sirens! The Gestapo...they are looking for you?" she asked. He nodded, tired. Her hands gently explored his shoulder, and unexpectedly, sent an intense surge of pain. He gasped.

"I am sorry!" she apologized.

"I thought angels were supposed to relieve pain...not make it worse," he grumbled. She laughed softly, a tinkling, musical sound, but became instantly serious.

"We must get you to the infirmary and take care of this."

He shook his head. "No time..."

"I will get Mother Superior," she said, ignoring him. "You must wait here. Will you be all right?"

"Gotta go...too dangerous. For you..." Eyes closed, he made a move to stand. In his mind, he could even see himself standing. In reality, he only managed to fall into her arms.

"You are not going anywhere..." Her voice called to him from somewhere far away. "...except with me..."

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[Sunday 22 NOV 1942//2350hrs local]

Infirmary, St. Johanniskirche

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He heard voices talking softly above him.

"~How is he, Mother?~"

"~He is remarkably strong. He has lost a great deal of blood, but he will be all right.~"

He felt a warm, gentle touch on his forehead. "~No fever. That is good.~"

"~His identification tags say that he as an American officer. A colonel. What would an American officer be doing here?~"

"~All in good time, Margarethe. All in good time...~"

The voices above him faded into the darkness that reclaimed him.

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[Monday 23 NOV 1942//0015hrs local]

Infirmary, St. Johanniskirche

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The sound of soft humming brought him back from the abyss. Brahm's Lullaby. His mother used to hum it to him when he was a child. He turned towards the sound, squinting against the dim lighting. He saw a feminine silhouette a few feet away, head down, rocking back and forth.

"Shhh...Liebling..." the voice was a caress. "~Good night, little one. Sweet dreams.~" As she stood, Hogan saw that she carried a small bundle in her arms, a sleeping child. He watched as she laid the child down and gently covered him. As she worked, she continued to hum soothingly.

She leaned over the small form for a few moments. Straightening, she turned to go. Catching his eye, she smiled. Hogan smiled in turn. She was indeed lovely, he saw. She sat down on the side of his bed.

"I see you are awake. Colonel, is it?"

Hogan grimaced. "Found me out, huh?" Nodding, she fingered the dog tags that were lying on his chest. Sighing, he muttered to himself. "Guess I'll have to come up with something else for next time."

"Excuse me?" Margarethe watched him curiously.

Grinning slightly, he held out his hand and introduced himself. "Col. Hogan, U.S. Army."

"And I am Margarethe Wunderling--"

"You sure are, ma'am," he said appreciatively. Her dark, brown hair was tied back in a sensible bun, a nurse's half-wimple partially covering her head. He noticed how her eyes--Gray, he noted--crinkled at the corners in amusement. Realizing that he was staring, he added lamely, "You speak English very well."

"I took my schooling in Cambridge before the war," she explained. "And you? You speak German quite fluently."

Hogan shrugged, not answering. She gave him a tolerant look. "I see. It is all very well for you to ask questions, but you do not provide answers." He smiled enigmatically.

"Sister Margarethe?" an older woman called softly. Hogan and Margarethe both turned.

"Yes, Mother Bernadette?"

Sister? Hogan wondered. He glanced quickly back at Margarethe, and for the first time saw the small, gold crucifix she wore. Of course, she's a nun! You almost made a big fool of yourself, Colonel!

"Ah! I see our newest, and largest patient is awake!"

"Largest?" Hogan asked curiously. Margarethe and Bernadette both laughed softly.

"Most of our patients are under the age of ten. From our orphanage school," Margarethe explained.

"Orphanage?" Hogan asked.

"Before the war, St. Johanniskirche ran a parish day school," Bernadette explained. "Since the war, the needs of our parishioners have changed."

"Especially the needs of the children who have been orphaned or abandoned," Margarethe added sadly.

"Yes," Bernadette agreed with a shake of her head. "It is always the children who suffer." She glanced up at Hogan, her smile tinged with sadness. "But you mustn't tire yourself out, Colonel. You really should try and get some sleep. You need to rest."

Hogan shook his head, 'no,' while simultaneously attempting to sit up. "Colonel, you must lie down!" Margarethe protested, holding him by the shoulders.

"No. It's too dangerous for me to stay any longer," Hogan said weakly. "The Gestapo is still searching for me. Soon, they'll start a house to house."

He stopped for breath, and to wait for the world to stop spinning. Unable to help himself, he leaned on her for support. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the subtle scent of her perfume.

Perfume...? He couldn't recall any of the nuns at his parish school wearing perfume.

"Col. Hogan, you can't even sit up," Margarethe pointed out. "How can you expect--"

"--'Cause I have a job to do. Four men are in the hands of the Gestapo, and it's my responsibility to get them out. I've gotta contact my men."

"The Gestapo?" she hissed. "Colonel, are you out of your mind?"

Hogan grinned. "There's an RAF corporal who keeps asking me that." He feigned a hurt look. "A guy could get a complex, you know."

Margarethe gave him a 'Don't give me that' look in turn. "Mother Bernadette, I believe that we were only half correct. What we have here is a very large, very stubborn child!"

"Margarethe, perhaps the Colonel is correct," Bernadette said regretfully. "It is too dangerous for him to remain here. I am sorry, Colonel, but I must think of the children first."

"Mother--!" Margarethe gasped in shock.

"No, Sister," Hogan said, nodding. "Mother Bernadette is right. It's best I leave." Rallying his strength, he swung his legs over the side and sat up. Resting for a moment, he straightened his shoulders and slowly stood, leaning heavily on Margarethe.

"But look at you!" Margarethe protested. She turned to Bernadette, beseechingly. "Mother, look at him! He is too weak to travel. We cannot turn him out!"

"Ladies, if you'll just lead me to my clothes and weapons, I'll get out of your hair."

"Margarethe, take him to Father Schumacher's cell. They are of similar size. I am afraid, Col. Hogan, that your shirt and jacket were a total loss."

"Mother--?" Margarethe tried once again. At Bernadette's sorrowful shake of the head, Margarethe dropped her eyes and nodded solemnly.

"Chin up, Sister Margarethe," Hogan said softly. "When I was a kid, I was thrown out of more parish schools than you can count. I was even voted 'Most likely to be a troublemaker' by the nuns of St. Michael back home."

"Now, that I can believe!" Margarethe said with a laugh.

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[Monday 23 NOV 1942//0045hrs local]

Rectory, St. Johanniskirche

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"These were Father Schumacher's quarters." Margarethe opened the heavy door, located down a long, drafty corridor. Entering, she pointed at an inner door. "That is the bedroom. His clothes--"

"Were his quarters?" Hogan asked. Margarethe nodded.

"He and several other clergymen were taken one night during a Nazi purge. He was rumored to have been working with the Underground to hide Jewish children--"

"--Rumored?"

Margarethe nodded, and then hesitantly added, "We never found out for certain." She walked over to a simple statuette of the Madonna and Child. Lying next to it was a large, highly ornate crucifix.

"I see..." Hogan said softly. He picked up the crucifix, admiring its gold, inlaid beauty and its heavy chain. "And the children currently housed here in the orphanage? Are any of them--?"

Margarethe shook her head. "No!" she quickly.

A little too quickly, Sister, Hogan mused.

"Our children are all Catholic orphans from the local area. And we even have their Baptism and First Eucharistic records to prove it. The Gestapo has kept such close tabs on us since Father Schumacher was taken that--" She stopped abruptly and shrugged.

"They are a terribly efficient organization, Col. Hogan. They even checked our parish records to ensure that we only housed proper orphans here. And not 'enemies of the state.'"

She looked up indignantly. "Can you believe that? Mere children considered enemies of the state! The world has gone insane."

Hogan nodded, his expression neutral. He found it incredulous that in this time of war and chaotic conditions the church orphanage could possibly maintain such accurate records to prove the children's Catholicism. However, he elected to keep his opinions to himself.

"Sister Margarethe!" They turned at the urgent voice. An older nun in full habit stood at the doorway. "Gestapo!"

"Colonel!" Margarethe said hurriedly. "Quick! You must hide! This way!" She grabbed him by the arm to lead him away, but Hogan pushed her and the other nun out the door.

"Don't worry about me!" he told her. "Take care of the kids!" He shut the door in the women's faces and headed into the bedroom. "First things first," he muttered. "Gotta get some clothes."

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[Monday 23 NOV 1942//0105hrs local]

Mother Superior's Office, St. Johanniskirche

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"~Major Tischler, I am sorry, but we cannot help you.~" Bernadette spoke calmly, her hands clasped before her. "~We have seen no such person.~"

"~But of course, Mother Superior,~" Tischler said, arrogantly. "~Naturally, you will not mind if we take a look around?~" He nodded at his men, who immediately broke into three, two-man teams and set out.

"~Herr Major, we do indeed mind!~" Margarethe protested. "We cannot have your men frightening our children!~"

"~Crack soldiers of the Third Reich, frightening the innocent children of the Fatherland?~" Tischler took a step towards Margarethe. "Fraulein, such talk is almost treasonous.~"

"~That's our Sister Margarethe for you!~" a voice behind them quipped. "Always stirring up trouble!~" All eyes turned towards the sound. Hogan boldly walked up to the Gestapo major, his hand held out.

Margarethe and Bernadette exchanged stunned glances, and then stared at Hogan and the white collar and ornate crucifix he was wearing. He determinedly looked away from them, giving the Gestapo major his undivided attention.

"~Major Tischler? Father Hoganmeiser, at your service.~"

Tischler shook hands, eyes narrowed. "~I did not know that the church had a new priest?~"

"~Oh, I'm just visiting, Herr Major,~" Hogan said. "~It's the Archbishop's idea, really. He believes it is good for the soul to get back with the people. Listen to their troubles. Bring comfort.~"

The Gestapo officer glared at him from under hooded eyes. "~Tell me, Father,~" he said darkly. "~What are you doing in that costume when the Fatherland needs all her young men?~"

Hogan fingered the large crucifix that hung from his neck. "~That is a very good question, Herr Major. One which I often ask myself.~" He paused dramatically, and started to pace. By all outward appearances, he looked like a man in deep thought.

"~I believe that a man such as myself serves the Fatherland as much as any of your soldiers. As an officer, you concern yourself with the physical well being of those under your command. Well, the Church concerns herself with their spiritual well being. In the end, Herr Major, we all have our jobs to do.~"

"~Yes, I suppose you are correct, Father. Still--~"

"Herr Major!" The ranking sergeant appeared at the door and snapped off a salute. "~We have searched the church, the living quarters, and the infirmary. We have found no sign of the fugitive.~"

"~Very well, Sergeant!~" Tischler casually returned the salute. "~Take the men outside. We will return to the assembly point.~"

"Jahwohl, Herr Major!" The sergeant saluted stiffly, executed an about face, and marched out.

"~Father, Mother Superior...I apologize for the intrusion.~" Tischler clicked his heels and bowed stiffly. "Auf Weidersehen."

"Auf Weidersehen, Herr Major," Bernadette said softly. Margarethe nodded at Tischler by way of farewell. Hogan escorted the Gestapo officer as far as the main outer door.

"Guten Abend, Major Tischler," Hogan said pleasantly, and then on a whim, added as if saying a blessing, "Vulpem pilum mutat, non mores."

The major gave him a blank look. Scowling, he touched two fingers to his high-peaked hat and left.

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End of Part 1

Continued in Part 2