The barns outside Friewaldau were generally filled with livestock. Tonight they were filled with Allied prisoners. General Burkhalter supervised the establishment of temporary camps and the posting of guards for the evening. Most of the Kriegies had shown enough sense not to escape. Between the frigid winter, the enraged civilians and the approaching Soviets, staying with the group seemed most prudent.

Burkhalter tried not to dwell on the obvious reason that few of the thousands of prisoners were trying to escape. They could hear the Third Reich crumbling and knew that liberation would come soon. And the revenge would begin shortly after that. Had already begun, if the reports of Russian brutality were to be believed. Of course, when all the secrets were dislodged from their hiding places, the cry for blood would be unquenchable.

He would be dead by then. Of that he was certain. But his family must escape. His wife, sister and nieces must not fall into enemy hands. Until recently he'd thought that he'd had a contingency plan in place to get the women to neutral territory. But that had been before Hochstetter had indulged his sadistic tendencies at Stalag 13.

A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. It had been Churchill's description of Russia, but Burkhalter found it equally fitting for Klink's Senior POW. When he'd first seen the man, he'd been unimpressed. Anyone who cowered before an incompetent fool like Klink wasn't worth a second notice. But as time went by, he began to notice the contradictions. Hogan seemed capable of escaping whenever he wished, but would routinely show up at the front gate to surrender. He thought nothing of turning his own men over to Klink for punishment, but anyone else who threatened them vanished mysteriously from the face of the Earth.

Where Hochstetter saw a master spy, Burkhalter saw a charismatic opportunist who could be of value to the Fatherland. But now… He silently cursed the crude force employed by Hochstetter's ilk. Control via terror was such an ineffectual tool, one that ultimately set in motion a cycle of revenge that destroyed whole cities. Especially when the victim was a man whose friends wore many uniforms.

"Sgt." Burkhalter summoned one of the Luftwaffe guards. "Have you been watching the American Colonel?"

"Per your orders, Herr General." The man pointed behind a barn. "He went back there a few moments ago."

Burkhalter dismissed the sergeant, headed in the direction indicated. Most of the prisoners were too exhausted to venture from the barns, but a few wandered within the secured perimeters. He spotted a man on his knees, most likely vomiting up his soup ration. He approached silently and waited in the shadows until the officer leaned back against a tree. "I expected you to be dead by now. You must have Prussian blood."

Hogan instinctively reached inside his jacket for his revolver. The revolver that was hopefully still in its hiding place at Stalag 13. He attempted to shrug off the pathetic gesture. "General. What's a nice guy like you doing in a rotten place like this?"

"It's been two days and 35 kilometers." Burkhalter assisted Hogan to his feet. "It's enough."

"You're surrendering?" Hogan supported himself against a tree, too exhausted to worry about image.

"It's two more days hard marching to the train station. There's no shame in accepting the privileges of your rank. Let me find you a warm bed for the night."

Hogan shook his head.

"You've proved that you can't be broken. Your death will serve no purpose."

"I don't want to die. I just want to go back to Stalag 13." Hogan tried to fake a smile. "The barbed wire is beautiful this time of the year."

"It's over, Hogan. The Underground, the Black Market….." Burkhalter dismissed Hogan's weak protest. "You can't continue whatever you were doing at Stalag 13. Hochstetter has marked you for death. A slow, painful death."

"He threatened my men. If I don't go back…."

"If he wants to kill them, he'll do it regardless of whether you're there or not."

"He'd have to go through me first, if I was there."

"In your present condition, that wouldn't be difficult." Burkhalter steadied Hogan as he suddenly swayed. He watched as the junior officer summoned what had to be his last bit of willpower to stay on his feet. If Hogan didn't have Prussian ancestors, he should have had. Burkhalter silently cursed the stupidity of sacrificing one of such potential while thousands of inferiors destroyed what could have been a glorious world. "Forget them, Hogan. You can still have a future in the Third Reich. I guarantee you…"

Hogan brushed away Burkhalter's support, gestured in the direction of the battle front. "There's your future, General. I may not live to see the Reds in Berlin, but they'll be there. Soon."

"Perhaps." Burkhalter pondered the distant explosions. "But tell me -- do Churchill and Roosevelt honestly believe that they can control Stalin if the Fuhrer falls?"

"No. I doubt either of them are that naïve." Hogan supported his ribs so he could take a deeper breath. "One dictator at a time, General. We'll get the world back in shape eventually."

Burkhalter glanced from the battle front to the disheveled man before him. The combination of his military connections and Hogan's charisma could have made them an unbeatable power block, but now he seemed destined to die by his own hand and the American to die anonymously in the snow. Such a waste. "I've leaving now for my quarters in Friewaldau. Do you insist on being stubborn?"

"Save me a good room at Stalag 7." Hogan closed his eyes, slouched against the tree. "Something with a nice view, close to the sauna…"

Burkhalter shook his head, started for his staff car.

"General."

Burkhalter halted. "Yes?"

"I can still protect your family. If…."

If you survive long enough, Burkhalter mused. Still, any port in a storm. "If?"

"If you contact Klink and find out if Hochstetter's been bothering my boys."

"And if he has?"

"Then I'll have added incentive to stay alive long enough to kill the S.O.B."

"Very well. I'll have the information for you by the time we make Moosberg." Burkhalter glanced over his shoulder as he left the area. Hogan had sunk to his knees in the snow. It was time to prepare a new contingency plan to ensure his family's welfare.

* * * *