Klink gripped his riding crop and took a pace forward. "Sergeant, I want you out of this barracks with the other men."
Sergeant Kinchloe glanced down at the unconscious man. His jaw firmed. "I'm not leaving the colonel, Kommandant."
Klink raised his voice "Guards!" Two burly men entered the Colonel Hogan's quarters. They immediately trained their submachine guns on the black sergeant, who stiffened to attention.
"What do you want, Kinchloe? Two hours exercise in the compound or thirty days solitary confinement in the cooler?"
Icy blue eyes stared into smouldering brown. For a long, tense moment the two men – white and black – glared at each other over the body of the unconscious American officer. Then Kinchloe bent his head in surrender.
Klink exhaled. "I'm glad you're sensible. I did not want to have you shot."
"I would have welcomed it, Kommandant." Kinch choked out. "Much good my good sense has done me." He swallowed and stared down at his commander. His hands balled into fists. "If you have poisoned him, …"
"I too am sensible, Sergeant Kinchloe. If your colonel dies, I know you will try to kill me." Klink paused, uncomfortable. "The slightest disobedience, Sergeant, will result in severe reprisals. Any attempt, and I will have you shot." He motioned toward the door. The black sergeant slowly nodded, then slowly left the room.
Klink stared after him, then motioned to his guards. "See to it that he and the others are well away from this barracks; but do not abuse him." He waited a few minutes, until the prisoners' muttered curses and protests had died away. Then he crossed to the window, opened it, and beckoned. A moment later Schultz entered, escorting a heavily veiled woman clutching a worn black bag.
"Danke, Herr Kommandant." The woman parted the veil, revealing a face mottled with cuts and bruises. "I am sorry for the subterfuge."
"Bitte sehr, Fraulien Doktor. Whatever help I can give… ." Klink squeezed her elbow. Doktor Falke winced, but she managed to nod and to subdue the moan. She had less than two hours to examine her patient and leave – no time to worry about her own pain.
"Danke." She looked down at the man lying so still in his bunk. Klink handed her the needle case and the vial of morphine. "Danke."
Soft as it was, it was clearly a dismissal. Klink bowed stiffly and left her to her patient.
Bending low, Fraulein Doktor Maria Helena Falke stilled her trembling hands, pulled down the blanket and began her examination of Colonel Robert Hogan. Bruises, abrasions, everything she knew she must see, she forced her mind to dwell upon. But it was hard, so hard, to concentrate on her task.
Half her mind was outside, in the exercise yard with Sergeants Kinchloe and Carter. They too were ill, Herr Kinchloewen very much so, and they were dear to her. They should not be out in the cold air; but what could she do? If either of them saw her injured face… She could not bear that, so they must not see it.
Neither must Colonel Hogan. The morphine had done its work quickly and well. He was quite unconscious. She gingerly touched his scalp, searching for her sutures, and fought to still her tremors once more. With her other hand, she touched the scar on her cheek. Her colleague, Doktor Kruger, had done good work on them both. She thanked God for him and for Herr Schnitzer. The veterinarian had risked his life to take her to the hospital, after the Gestapo had beaten and … . She forced her mind to dismiss the memories. She was here for Colonel Hogan's injuries, not for her own, and she wanted to see the men she loved so much – even though they must not see her.
She stroked the colonel's dark hair. Sergeant Kinchloe would have died of pneumonia, but for him. "Greater love hath no man than this, that he would lay down his life for his friends." The tears spilled down her cheeks. "Oh, Colonel Hogan! How I have wronged you!"
Her heart rose up in reproach against her. She had not believed – her pacifist convictions had not allowed her to believe – that any career military man could show compassion. That Colonel Hogan had any deep feeling for his men. Colonel Hogan was a vain, cocksure, arrogant American, the kind that had always set her fuming. "Mad, bad and dangerous to know", just like Lord Byron. Rude, and sometimes crude. Perhaps lewd, but not to her. She would give him that. He was not a gentleman; but he was a fair fighter.
She caught herself smiling. Herr Kinchloewen says I still fight the War of 1812. Perhaps it's true. I don't like the way Americans act as if they have no respect for me or for Canada, as if they own my country and can do as they please with it, and that I have no right to hold any opposing viewpoint. I hate that Colonel Hogan belittles me and my beliefs, yet expects me to accept his unconditionally.
Her smile melted into tears as she continued to stroke his hair. "And yet we have had some good arguments, haven't we Colonel? Andrew said that you've always told him, 'I'd rather have Doktor Falke as an angry friend than a cringing foe.' That 'We're here fighting for her democratic right to criticize us. Just because she refuses to kill, just because she hates what we must do, that does not make her our enemy.' 'Don't try to convert my men, Doktor Pacifist. Stick your thorn in me, not in Carter. He doesn't understand you like I do.'
" As if you've ever understood me, or I you. But we did try to, didn't we? You protected me, even though you were suspicious of me. Even when your 'Goldilocks' told you my citizenship had been revoked, you gave me the benefit of the doubt. And I have done nothing but rail at you. A lesser man would not have kept me safe, would not have tried to persuade his superiors that I was harmless. Oh, Colonel! Why did I refuse to see how kind you really are beneath your boastful swagger?"
Doktor Falke repressed a shudder at the memory of that operation he had undergone. Her first sight of Colonel Hogan's bruised face, the cuts that laid open his scalp and cheek – she had been barely able to maintain her cool, impassive mask. She hoped it would be put down to a woman's weakness for a handsome face and not to any personal feeling for the prisoner. She was a physician by training, a surgeon by necessity and responsible to the Red Cross for the prisoners' medical condition. She had to remain in the operating theatre. She had to recall every insult, every quarrel, every argument they had had to keep from breaking down. She remembered how much she owed to him, how much she relied on his promise to get her safely home.
Looking at him now, she realized she no longer wanted to go home. Going home meant never being with these men again, but still missing them, still worrying about them wherever they were. Going home meant ending her friendship with Sergeant Kinchloe. It was not safe for either of them to remain friends – even in the northern United States. Even in Canada. The horrible Detroit riot in the summer of 1943 had brought that home to them. Herr Kinchloewen had so nearly lost his sister in it. Doctor Jessica Kinchloe shared her brother's lion heart. They could not discover every detail – stuck in Germany as they were, and try though they desperately did – but they knew Doctor Kinchloe had deliberately risked her life to treat the suffering, when she could have been beaten to death just for venturing into the street.
"A remarkable woman," Doktor Falke thought, proud of her fellow physician, and humbled by her courage. She would not cause harm or shame to her or to her brother for the world.
The door suddenly flew opened. Looking toward it, she stared aghast into James Ivan Kinchloe's enraged eyes.
The black sergeant jerked her away from his colonel.
"Doktor Falke! What are you doing here?" He shook her furiously. "Why did you have him drugged? Why?"
"Mein Herr…," she gasped.
"I trusted in you! I stood up to him for you! I…" Kinchloe's eyes focused on her bruised face. "Marli!"
His grip on her arm slackened as it registered. "It was your penicillin, wasn't it?" he gasped. When she did not answer, he shook her again. "Tell me!"
She nodded weakly. Her voice was barely audible as she admitted, "Yes, James. It was."
Kinchloe wrapped his arms around her, and held her close. "Doktor Fledermaus, forgive me." His eyes closed tight. "Please forgive me."
She hugged him fervently, unmindful of the pain. She had so nearly lost this man, and she would be so lost without him.
"Will you forgive me, Herr Kinchloewen? And the Kommandant. Please. Forgive him too. I was afraid of your reaction if you saw me thus. We both were afraid, the Kommandant and I, of what Colonel Hogan might do if he saw my marks, but I had to examine him. I had to reassure myself that he was still alive. I had little time after the operation to check him. I had to send him here to you as quickly as I could, lest he mutter in his delirium. If I stayed with him for long, people would be suspicious of me, and that would not help him either. And I had to see you, dear mein Herr, before I left for Köln."
"For Köln?" Kinchloe drew back and stared at her. "Why are you going there?" His voice shook. "Who is taking you away?"
"The Red Cross." She looked into his chocolate brown eyes, so full of concern for her. So full of concern for his colonel as well. As she gazed, she saw something else in those eyes – something she had never seen in them before. Helplessness.
"You must have slept though the noise of the planes, mein Herr. Four simultaneous bombing raids. Hamburg. Frankfort. Köln." She paused. "And Heidelberg, I'm afraid. I do not know if Herr Schultz knows, and I do not want to be the one who tells him."
Kinchloe swallowed. "His family?"
"I do not know any details, Herr Kinchloewen. All I know is that all available Red Cross personnel have been called on to succour the injured, and that I have been assigned to Köln."
Kinchloe sank upon the stool. "I hoped you could've stayed. I – we – I need you so."
"I am to leave as soon as I can." Doktor Falke replied. "Kommandant Klink is driving me to the station." She put her hand on his shoulder. "Herr Kinchloewen…"
"James." He looked up at her. "You called me 'James' just now, and I've never felt less like a lion. My sister…when you called me 'James'…your voice sounded just like hers." He wiped his eyes.
"James." Her fingers touched his collar. "I wish I could call you 'James' again when you're free; but..."
"Call me 'James' now. I need to hear it." Kinchloe summoned up a smile and took her hand. "Don't worry about the future, Doktor Fledermaus. Toronto and Detroit are not so far apart, and I don't intend for us to be."
"If I ever see Toronto again, and, dear mein Herr – James – so much divides us."
Kinchloe drew her down until she sat gingerly on the edge of the bunk. "You are my friend and I will not lose your friendship, whatever happens to us."
Marlena patted his hand, and gave him a grateful smile. "James…" She hesitated.
"Go on. Tell me the worst. I can take it now."
"Colonel Hogan is in a very bad state indeed. His ribs are broken…"
"Which means his heart and lungs are likely injured." He looked beyond her, to Hogan's lax face, and silently cursed Hochstetter.
"His stomach as well. And his abdomen seems swollen. His liver…" She smiled. "I forgot. You've read my textbooks."
"I've read them; but I'm not Jessie, and I'm not you. There's no M.D. after my name."
"I doubt there need be. I've never known a man so capable." Doktor Falke returned to her mental list. "Take care what he eats. Corporal LeBeau will know what to prepare that he can digest. His arm is also broken. His scalp … I don't know, mein Herr. Did he seem changed? Dozy? Irritable? Forgetful? Abrasive?"
"He seemed himself." Kinchloe replied, a little too abruptly. He was not going to let on to Marlena what he could not admit to himself. He also could not bring himself to tell her that he would be unable to carry out her instructions.
Doktor Falke searched his face, puzzled and concerned. Then she sighed. "Sprains. Contusions. The morphine… I am sorry about the morphine, but he needs release from his pain and his… his memories, if only for a short time."
"Hochstetter just added a few more 'memories', Doktor," Kinchloe said bitterly, before he could stop himself. He saw her face blanch. "I'm sorry. You have a few 'memories' of your own." He touched her cheek. "Your penicillin…" His voice cracked.
"Don't think about that. I'm glad it went to you, and to Andrew and the others. I'm sorry only that Colonel Hogan had to suffer to get it. I thought Major Hochstetter would sell it in the black market. People have killed for penicillin and sulphonamides. There isn't enough, and the bombings…" She stopped.
"I guess you think that we're being paid back - Carter, the Colonel and me - for our love of sabotage."
"No. Of course not. You must do what you do. You have told me that many times. Of course you are glad when you succeed. What good workman is not?"
"But you should not have gotten hurt." Kinchloe tried to look at her bruised, cut face without clenching his hands. He bit back the question but it echoed and re-echoed through his anxious mind. "Did those bastards rape you?" Instead, he closed his hands over hers. For some reason, she struggled to pull them out of his grasp. He held them tighter, looked down and saw why. Her wrists were ringed a purplish red.
He looked up at her. "What have they done to you?"
His dispassionate tones did not fool her. "Herr Kinchloewen…James…don't…"
"Marli." He forced his voice to remain calm, gentle, yet commanding. "Marli, what have they done to you? Tell me."
Marlena drew in her breath, but she could not repress her shudders. "They burst into my examination room. One grabbed my arms, and wrenched them behind my back. The other slapped me senseless."
She looked at Kinchloe, biting back her tears. It was almost a relief to confess to him; but oh, the pain in his eyes!
"They tied my wrists to the legs of the examination table. They … tore open my… my dress. Slapped me whenever I struggled or made a sound. In fact, I think they enjoyed making me kick at them, so they could grab my legs and …. Then Major Hochstetter entered. He stopped them and then he…"
She shuddered even more violently and shook her head. She could not tell him what had happened after that. Not to Herr Kinchloewen. To Colonel Hogan, she could say it. She could work up her anger more easily before him, and now he had anger of his own to expend. But not to this man. Certainly not to Andrew. To Peter? Perhaps. But not to this man.
"He 'fondled' you, didn't he?" Kinchloe looked at her as if he knew all too well what men have done to women. She turned away from his compassion and his euphemism with a stifled sob. "He stroked…my…"
"You needn't go on, Marli, unless you feel you must let it out." James Kinchloe's low voice sounded resigned; but held an undercurrent of rage. Red rage that competed with the helplessness that threatened to overpower him. This woman, his good friend, had upheld and counselled him when his beloved sister announced her marriage to a man he had never met. He had turned to her in his depression and jealousy and she had comforted him. Anyone who harmed her, harmed him. She meant as much to him as his Jessie did, or as his colonel did, or as his comrades did.
When he had stood at the window, watching Hochstetter's goons throw the dead victims of pneumonia into the fire and coughing out the smoke and the pus from his congested lungs, he had faced his own mortality. He had recited the words of the psalm in that hushed barracks, surrounded by the men he had vowed to protect and to serve, fully expecting his own corpse would burn next. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of the death, I will fear no evil, for Thou are with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."
The words had brought him solace – the words and Carter's trusting face turned up to his. That and Schultz's sympathetic expression. Schultz had been on the opposite side in the battle that had killed his father in 1918. It surprised him that he no longer felt animosity toward the big man, but a kinship. German though he was, guard though he was, Schultz was a fellow victim, because he was a kind, good man. Somewhere along the line, he had forgiven Schultz for being at Sechault, for being one of the Germans who had killed his father. He was glad that he had.
But he vowed he would never forgive Hochstetter for what he had done to Marli. He never would forgive him for what he had done to Colonel Hogan.
James Kinchloe looked from his dear friend's bruised, tear-streaked face to his unconscious commander's motionless, wounded body. Where is my comfort now?
***
Kommandant Klink re-entered the room, Sergeant Schultz, Corporal Langenscheidt and the strong, stolid Corporal Kohler behind him. Langenscheidt, cumbered with the rifle slung on his back, carried a stretcher with some difficulty across the threshold.
"Enshuldigung, Fraulein Doktor, but we must leave now for the Bahnhof." He stopped short as he caught sight of Kinchloe, then made a curt gesture. Kohler immediately came to the Kommandant's side and raised his gun. Langenscheidt leaned the stretcher against the wall and reluctantly did likewise.
Doktor Falke stared up from Kinchloe to Klink. She felt that she was caught between a stag and a wolf pack.
"Herr Ki…" Kinchloe's hand suddenly squeezed hers tight. She hastily corrected herself. "Herr Kommandant! What is happening here?"
Her eyes shifted to Schultz, who looked back at her in sorrow. Langenschiedt bit his lips. Kohler merely looked impassive.
"I warned you I would exact reprisals, Kinchloe," Klink said coldly. "Schultz. Secure him."
Schultz murmured an apology as he signalled Kinchloe to rise. Kinch mutely nodded his forgiveness. He rose and submitted to Kohler pulling his wrists behind his back, handcuffing him and binding him to the post of the bunk.
Doktor Falke, agitated, rounded on Klink. "Herr Kommandant, why are you punishing this man? He was only coming to the defence of his colonel."
"Please, Doktor. Stay out of it." The sergeant replied quietly, his expression sombre. "Kommandant, I beg you. Keep Colonel Hogan here, even for a day. Let Doktor Falke do what she can for him." Klink curtly shook his head. Mustering all his self-control, all his power to persuade, Kinch continued to supplicate him.
"Kommandant, Hochstetter won't come back tonight. Give us that time to prepare him and say our good-byes. He would give you that, if he were you."
Klink sighed wearily. "He must go at once. Every minute he stays here is fatal to us all. I am sorry, Sergeant, but it is out of my hands."
"With respect, sir, it's not." Kinch pleaded. "Doktor Falke says he has internal injuries. On a bumpy road … he could die before he got there. Leave him with us, at least for the night. I can reason him into going if you give me the time."
Klink shook his head, adamant.
"Kommandant." Sergeant Kinchloe snatched at the broken edges of his composure. "At least let him leave here conscious."
Klink merely motioned for Langenscheidt and Kohler to open the stretcher.
They did so, on the floor between the feet of the Kommandant and the black POW. Then Langensheidt came to Doktor Falke, still seated beside Colonel Hogan's body, and held out his hand. "With respect, Fraulein Doktor. Bitte aufstehe."
Doktor Falke crossed her arms and remained where she sat. She stared up at Klink. "Herr Kommandant. The sergeant is correct. Colonel Hogan must not be moved. Not even to a hospital."
"I am afraid he must, Fraulein Doktor. To Luft Drei, in Silesia."
Doktor Falke gaped, aghast, from Klink to Kinchloe to Klink once more. "Why?"
"You know that yourself." Klink looked pointedly at her scarred face. "Come, Fraulein Doktor. Be sensible. You must go to Köln. You cannot tend to him."
"You can summon Herr Doktor Kruger here. He was the senior surgeon who operated on Colonel Hogan."
"Herr Doktor Kruger has seen too often what the Gestapo have done. I doubt he will involve himself further in the case."
His eyes flickered from Doktor Falke's face to Colonel Hogan's. He faltered, seeing the bruises and cuts both bore. Then his jaw firmed. "Komm, Fraulein Doktor. Steigen Sie auf. You do no good if you stubbornly resist."
She felt Kinchloe's eyes commanding her to stand her ground. "I do Colonel Hogan no good if I submit," she replied. "He and this sergeant are prisoners of war and thus under the protection of the Geneva Convention. I have my duty to the International Red Cross…"
"You have your duty to protest, certainly. We both have our duty to protect the prisoners, within reason, Fraulein Doktor." That is what I am trying to do – I am trying to protect a fool from a madman.
Klink tried to keep his temper in control, but he leaked a little anger into his voice. It would not hurt Doktor Falke to be afraid. "The Gestapo has 'expressed an interest' in Colonel Hogan. Your protest to Geneva must go through the German Red Cross. Verstehen Sie? It will take time. You've examined Colonel Hogan. You tell his sergeant he has internal injuries. I tell you Major Hochstetter will inflict more of the same. Does he have that time?"
Doktor Falke looked for a long minute at Colonel Hogan's still form.
"Komm, Doktor." Klink persisted. "You must be on the train to Köln."
She hesitated. "If Colonel Hogan is moved, he will likely die."
"If he stays, he will certainly die."
He turned to Kinchloe, looked into the black sergeant's tormented eyes.
"Sergeant Kinchloe. Do not resist. Do not compromise the Fraulein Doktor. You both are at my mercy. Do not make me turn you over to Hochstetter."
Their eyes locked. "I mean Colonel Hogan no harm," he continued. "You cannot protect him. You cannot protect yourself."
Klink's voice was reasonable, even gentle. "You know that I mean him no harm. You know that if he remains here for Hochstetter to torture further, he will die. I give you my solemn word. Surrender him to me, and he will be safe in Sagan. Resist and neither you nor your friends will survive him."
He turned to Doktor Falke. There was a significant pause. "I include the Fraulein Doktor among those 'friends', Sergeant."
He turned back to Kinchloe. He paused again, and then looked straight into his eyes. "It ill repays him, Sergeant Kinchloe, to sacrifice the lives he gambled his life to save."
Kinch shut his eyes and swallowed, stabbed by guilt. "Very well, Kommandant. I surrender him to you." He swallowed again, in obvious distress, and opening his eyes, stared deep into Klink's. "Guard him well, sir."
Marlena bit back her "Mein Herr!" She summoned all the chill of her scorn into her voice and threw it at Klink. "How can you guarantee Colonel Hogan's safety in Sagan?"
"Its Kommandant is a friend of mine. And General Burkhalter has authorized the transfer."
She looked up into Klink's face. He looked drawn, tense, austere. She looked at Sergeant Kinchloe, his wrists shackled to his colonel's bunkpost. She turned her head, and looked down at Colonel Hogan's lax face. She could not protest any longer – not against a general. She lowered her eyes in submission.
"Draw up your morphine, Fraulein Doktor." Klink's voice was cold with command.
She gaped at him. "My morphine?"
"Your morphine. I'm taking you to Köln now and I am not leaving this camp while he is conscious and can plot against me." He jerked his head at Kinchloe.
Marlena's eyes met those of the black sergeant. Comatose, Colonel Hogan no longer could defend himself. Nor could they now defend him. But what about the other prisoners of war? When Hochstetter finds out his prey has been snatched from him, he will turn to those birds still trapped in the cage. Herr Kinchloewen was the guardian of the operation. It, and they, now depended on him. She must not make the same mistake twice.
She gave the POW a hard, appraising look, then sneered, "Why should I waste my precious morphine on a Negro, Herr Kommandant? He hasn't the brains to plot against you."
"He is Hogan's adjutant, Fraulein Doktor."
"Colonel Hogan's lackey, you mean. His body servant." She shrugged dismissively. "Fetch this. Carry that. Dress me. Clean up my quarters. He's a mule. A dog. Obedient to whoever commands him."
Her eyes blinked away from his. "Forgive me, dear mein Herr. Please. If you cannot forgive me the greater betrayal, forgive me at least this."
Then she snorted. "Really, Kommandant! You now have the brain. This man is nothing but the brawn. I need the morphine to relieve the pain of Germans, not to subdue Untermenchen."
Klink looked from Doktor Falke to Kinchloe. The sergeant looked dispirited, crushed. Yet, the glance he shot them beneath his lowered eyelids was anything but meek.
Biting his lower lip, Sergeant Kinchloe tried to appear submissive before his captors. He knew Marlena was trying to redeem herself in his eyes; but he knew she was also trying to save him so he could work out a way to save the situation. Not that he could save it. Without Colonel Hogan's backing, he had no might or right to direct the men. But until a new senior officer was transferred into Stalag Thirteen, the prisoners had no leader. Klink feared, and Marlena believed, that they would turn to him. They were certain of it.
He was not. In fact, he strongly doubted it. When the men find out he had surrendered Colonel Hogan into Klink's power without a struggle, he'd be lucky not to be beaten to a pulp. But he knew he had to take charge, immediately, before fights erupted among the factions that made up their multiethnic, multinational population. Before someone used the tunnel to escape, releasing the flood of escapes that would surely follow.
The main thing is to keep the men alive and working together and our operation hidden. I'm merely 'minding the store' until the new C.O. arrives. He glanced at Doktor Falke, sighed and gave her the ghost of a smile. "It's alright, Marli. I've played 'dumb and docile' many times. I know I've got to put Klink's fears to sleep. Just do your best to keep your syringe well away from me."
Klink contemplated the black man's bowed head, and downcast eyes. Hogan sacrificed his life to save this man. There must be something within him that made it worthwhile.
"Sergeant Kinchloe. Give me your word that you will cause no further trouble and I will not exact punishment."
"You have my word, Kommandant. I will cause you no trouble."
Without moving his eyes from Kinchloe's he jerked his head to Schultz. "Release him. See that a watch is kept on him until my return."
Schultz opened the handcuffs. Kinchloe's eyes fixed upon Klink's as he rubbed his wrists. Klink swallowed; but tried to keep an air of dominance.
"I commend your loyalty, Sergeant, and I honour your intelligence. You are powerless against me. You are completely helpless against the Gestapo. Let me save your colonel the only way I can."
Kinchloe held his eyes, then exhaling deeply, looked down at the motionless man beneath the dark blanket. "As you say, Kommandant, I am powerless."
He gazed at Hogan with all the warmth of his affection and devotion. "Please, sir. Let me lay him down."
Klink's austere expression softened. "Of course, Sergeant Kinchloe."
Kinch crossed to Marlena. "Fraulein Doktor Falke." Marlena rose. As she stood aside, she stumbled slightly, so that her sleeve brushed against his. Reflexively, he put his hand to her arm to steady her. They exchanged glances.
"Thank you." "God keep you safe, Herr Löewen.."
"You're welcome, Doktor Falke." "And you as well. I'll alert the underground to watch over you, but take care."
Klink took Marlena's arm. "Time we left, Fraulein Doktor. Sergeant. Kinchloe, mind your fellow prisoners. I want no trouble."
"You'll have none, Kommandant."
Klink nodded stiffly. "Good. See to your colonel."
Their eyes met again. Kinchloe saw a look of mute apology and helplessness deep in Klink's eyes. As if he was the powerless one, not me.
The black sergeant's expression slowly turned from his austere anger to pity, and then to an unwilling sympathy and an even more reluctant gratitude. When Hochstetter returned for his prey, what were anyone's chances of survival? Klink was trying to save Colonel Hogan's life at some risk to his own. And he was taking Marlena to the station. Maybe he was also trying to rescue her from Hochstetter.
He exhaled a heavy sigh. How many times had he compromised, or given in to pressure or persuasion, or resorted to underhanded means to protect or to rescue the colonel or one of the men? How many times would he still need to do so before this nightmare was over?
He saluted Klink, then bent over the bunk. With infinite gentleness, he gathered his unconscious commander's body in his arms and laid it upon the stretcher. As Langensheidt tucked the blanket around the comatose man, he touched a bruise upon his cheek.
"Sleep well, Colonel. I pray God that one day I'll hear you either forgive me or damn me for this."
****
Kinch stood silent beside the strong, stolid Corporal Kohler, and watched
Schultz and Langenscheidt slide the stretcher bearing his commanding officer
into the back of the truck. He felt
Kohler's eyes upon him; saw Kohler's hand tense on his gun.
"What does he think I'll do now?" he thought bitterly, handing up to Schultz the colonel's long coat and the bag containing his belongings. "Please, Schultz. Take better care of him than I did."
Schultz closed his big hand over the black man's wrist, moved by his quavering entreaty and by his remorse filled, tormented eyes. "It is for the best, Sergeant Kinchloe. Do not take it too hard." He squeezed the wrist sympathetically as he took the bag. Then he glanced at his unconscious charge. "He will be safe in Luft Drei."
"Those fifty murdered British prisoners were not safe, " Kinch retorted.
"Over seventy men had escaped at the same time. It embarrassed too many big shots. That's why…" Schultz followed Kinchloe's eyes to Hogan's motionless body. "The new Kommandant of Stalag Three has taken precautions and there will be no more escapes. Since he cannot escape, Colonel Hogan will be safe." Schultz nodded to Langenscheidt, who stepped to Kinchloe's side.
"Promise me that you will not stir up trouble while I am gone, Sergeant Kinchloe."
Kinch nodded, took one long final look at his commander, and slowly moved back from the truck.
A different yet equally intense look passed between Schultz and Langenscheidt. "Guard him well." Even Fraulein Doktor Falke, hidden behind the dark glass of Kommandant Klink's staff car, caught that look. She doubted there would be trouble, at least, none for the guards. The hostile glances and mutterings among the prisoners signalled trouble for Herr Kinchloewen. Doktor Falke realized with a start that that was what Herr Schultz meant to convey to his young subordinate. "Guard Sergeant Kinchloe well. Make sure no trouble comes to him."
She watched the other prisoners back away as Kinchloe and Langenscheidt crossed the compound. Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau, Colonel Hogan's staff, were left alone to meet them. Even Olsen moved back. Marcus Simms did not move back so far. He caught Baker's sleeve, and the two black men held a short whispered conversation. Baker nodded, and then slipped away from the other men. To the tunnel, Doktor Falke suspected. Goldilocks is about to eat some very disagreeable porridge.
With a sigh, she settled back against the seat cushion and watched the truck move toward the gate, Corporal Kohler at the wheel.
A movement caught her eye: Corporal Newkirk saluting the truck. Colonel Hogan's unconscious, so why did he bother? Peter has never saluted any man willingly before. Then she saw him clench his fist and turn to Kinch, saw LeBeau catch his sleeve and Marcus Simms quickly move to defend his friend. She saw Newkirk pull away from the Frenchman, uttering what must have been a curse or an insult because LeBeau recoiled from him and stalked away. Kinch stiffened and directed what must have been a withering glance at Newkirk before following LeBeau. Newkirk responded with a rude gesture. Then the RAF corporal moved off toward the worn track that encircled the perimeter of the camp.
Carter stared at Kinch's rigid back for a moment, then trailed after his English friend. Doktor Falke saw Newkirk stop and turn to him. She saw them exchange a few words; then she saw the corporal lean against the wall of Barracks 4, his posture visibly relaxing as he and Carter continued to talk. She saw Newkirk glance up at the 'goon towers', then at his barracks. The tilt of his head seemed to say he was reconsidering his outburst. With relief, she saw him put his arm around Carter's shoulders and move off toward their barracks. Perhaps something Andrew had said had cooled his friend's ire. She hoped so. No matter how often they quarrelled, Peter had always backed his friends in times of crisis. They were in a very grave predicament now, one she had unintentionally brought upon them. Colonel Hogan was not returning and they were without a commander. There may be a power struggle, a realignment of allegiances, perhaps escape attempts involving their tunnel. They needed to back each other more than ever to keep control of their operation. Could they do it, bereaved and angered as they were?
***
As Kommandant Klink drove, Doktor Falke sat silently beside him. She stared at the raindrops running down the window of the staffcar, and tried to compose her thoughts and deal with her guilt. She had, through her vanity over her scarred face, helped Kommandant Klink abduct Colonel Hogan from his men. She had put Sergeant Kinchloe in a false position before his fellow prisoners, perhaps put him in danger from their revenge. Colonel Hogan had trusted his adjutant to protect him. When the colonel awoke, would he think that his adjutant had shown cowardice or betrayed him to his enemies? Against all Sergeant Kinchloe's instincts and all his prejudices – against his better judgement, she admitted bitterly – he had trusted in Kommandant Klink's compassion towards a suffering man and a brother officer. And look where that trust got them.
Perhaps he had not been deceived in Klink; since the Kommandant had not intended harm to Colonel Hogan. But he had trusted in her as well; that she would never put their operation at risk, that she would deal honestly with them. I never meant to trick you into surrendering him into Klink's power, mein Herr. When I found out my penicillin went to you and Andrew, then I doubly wanted to keep my condition from you. I did not want you or Andrew to feel a guilt you did not deserve. You'll never believe me – I never meant to betray you..
Suddenly, she was jolted into the present moment. Klink had turned the staff car west, away from the town and the train station. Doktor Falke gasped as visions of her ordeal flooded her mind. She caught herself whimpering. She had trusted Klink too, and he had betrayed her trust when he betrayed Sergeant Kinchloe's. Did the Kommandant intend to rape her as well?
Choking back a sob, she thrust her fears behind her coolest, most impassive 'Fraulein Doktor' expression. "Herr Kommandant. The other physicians are waiting for me at the train station. Why are we not going there?"
"Because I am taking you to the station in Dusseldorf. We must talk candidly about what has happened," Klink replied, his voice tight. "Hauptmann Gruber will mind Stalag Thirteen in my absence. He will not harm the prisoners." He gave her a sidelong glance, then cleared his throat. "I've had the car checked. There are no listening devices. No one will hear our conversation."
Marlena quaked. Major Hochstetter had used those very words while he stroked her breasts. She could still hear his loathsome, silky voice. "My men will see we are not disturbed, Fraulein Doktor. No one will hear our 'conversation'."
Klink turned his attention to the road. "Do not be alarmed, Doktor Falke. I am not going to touch you."
"How can I trust you, after what you just did?"
"I had to do it, to save Hogan's life. To save all our lives," he said quietly.
"You tricked me. You tricked him. You tricked his sergeant."
"Doktor. What are the feelings of one Negro to anyone, even to Hogan?" Klink glanced at her, and then sighed as he saw her wince and recoil. "I am trying to protect the lives of all my prisoners. That is why Hogan must go to Oflag Drei. If Hochstetter beats a confession from him…"
She interrupted him. "Kommandant, Colonel Hogan has been a prisoner of war for over two years. How can he be a spy? What secrets has he to confess?"
"I do not know; but he'll confess. He traded information for your penicillin..."
"In order to heal his men."
"Ja. He lied to save his men. By lying such a lie, he admitted he had access to information worth selling. How could he have obtained it? Thorough other prisoners? Through you? Of all civilians, you are the one most frequently in contact with them. What if Hochstetter thinks you are involved with him in his crime?"
"What crime?" she demanded. "What has been proven against him?"
"Hochstetter is not looking for proof. He is looking for blood. A band of saboteurs have made him a laughingstock by sabotaging everything beneath his nose. Reichmarshall Himmler does not care for Gestapo agents to appear fools. If Hochstetter does not manufacture a master spy, he may be executed for incompetence."
"But a prisoner of war in the most secure camp in Germany – a master spy? Ridiculous."
"Fraulein Doktor! Never breathe such words about the Gestapo, if you value your life."
Klink pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the engine. "My dear. For all our sakes. Yours. His. Mine. And for the men you so foolishly care so much about. When you arrive in Köln – disappear. Please. Hochstetter's a demented sadist. You are powerless to oppose him. He'll rape you again, and again – for the pleasure of causing you pain, to make you submit to him against your will. And he wants your cache of drugs. You know the astronomical prices they command on the black market. He knows that the doctors have been hoarding and hiding them, for when … if… no, for when we are in extremis." Klink gripped the steering wheel. "Think of what he'll do to you … to all of us … if he suspects you are conspiring with Hogan. You must disappear."
Marlena shuddered. "How can I disappear, Herr Kommandant? How does that help any of us? To flee is to confirm his suspicions. He can snatch me back with one telephone call to the Gestapo in Köln, or to the Gauleiter's office, or to the Red Cross. The German Red Cross. If I do not register when I arrive in Köln – if I do not arrive – he will track me down."
And what will I say when he does? Again she felt those gloved fingers stroking her, slapping her, probing inside her. Again she heard the threat in his oily voice. I would have said anything then. I would have betrayed them. I was so afraid of what he threatened to do. So very afraid. Thank God he only demanded the penicillin and my body.
She fought down her guilt and grief. Her life, Colonel Hogan's life, and the lives of his men now hung on her keeping an impassive mask in front of Kommandant Klink. If he thought there was a hint of truth in Major Hochstetter's suspicions, he would hand her over to the Gestapo to save himself.
"Herr Kommandant. I have a private practice as well as my Red Cross work. Were it not for the emergency, I could not leave Hammelburg on the spur of the moment."
"Then take advantage of the emergency, my dear. The power lines are down. The trains cannot enter the station. All is disruption in Köln. Take the chance to escape Hochstetter while you can."
"And where can I hide? Who would hide me? I know no one who would dare hide a fugitive from the Gestapo. And anyone who would dare, would suspect me of being a mole." She laid her hand on his sleeve. "Danke, Herr Kommandant, for your concern; but the best thing I can do to absolve suspicion is to show myself a loyal German for as long as I can."
Klink heaved a sigh and started up the car. "At least I have warned you."
"I appreciate that. You are very kind." She looked at Klink's tense face. His eyes were full of dread. His cheekbones seemed to burst through his skin, so tight were his teeth clenched. "Kommandant. Can you not escape yourself?"
"And leave my men and my prisoners to Hochstetter's dementia? No, Fraulein Doktor. I cannot. I've contemplated it; but…" He shook his head. "I cannot. A Prussian officer does not desert his men. No true commander would."
He stared out through the windshield at the darkening sky and the snow-covered road ahead of the car. "That is why I drugged Colonel Hogan to sleep," he slowly admitted. "He saved their lives by risking his own. I knew he would not leave his men to the fury of a maniac."
They drove in silence for several miles. Then Klink cleared his throat again.
"I – I am sorry for what happened in Hogan's quarters. I did not intend to hurt his … his adjutant. In fact, I did not want his men to know I was taking Hogan away until he was far from camp. I wanted to get you far on your way as well. When you asked to examine him without his knowledge, because you had to rush to Köln, it was an answer to prayer."
"But you told Sergeant Kinchloe what you intended."
"No. I did not. I told Hogan. I had to tell Hogan. I wanted to reassure him. He thought I had poisoned him, when all I wanted to do send him to a safe haven.
"I knew his blackamoor would not leave him, not even with three armed guards outside the door. I did not insist then that he did, so he overheard my conversation with Hogan. When I looked into the man's eyes, … saw his devotion to his colonel … I wish I had such devotion from my men." Klink bit his lip, shaking his head. Then sighed. "How did Kinchloe elude the guards? I gave them strict orders to watch Hogan's men like hawks – and to fire should they approach the barracks."
"He saw Sergeant Schultz escort a muffled figure carrying a black bag into the barracks." Doktor Falke's voice lowered to a whisper. She looked down at her hands. "Maybe he did not know it was me. Maybe he did know, and thought I would kill his colonel. Maybe he believed the rumours about German doctors experimenting on prisoners."
Klink looked at her, aghast. "Not in my camp! And not you!"
"Why not?" she retorted. "For a man of his race, it must be his greatest fear – and you had just drugged his colonel. He was responsible for guarding Colonel Hogan's life, and he failed him. He trusted you and … and so he had stood by while you administered the morphine. What would you have done in his place, guilt ridden and frantic, but risk your life to rescue him? What am I to him or any of his comrades but a Kraut doctor who carries death in her bag? Even if he had recognised me, how could he trust me when he saw Sergeant Schultz escort me into his barracks?"
She silently railed at him. "What honour have you left me? All I wanted to do was examine Colonel Hogan, not help you abduct him. You used my presence alone with Sergeant Kinchloe as a threat to us both, so that he would not shout an alarm to his friends and so foil your scheme. You bound him, and then you sought to drug him senseless with my morphine. How do I know what Captain Gruber may be doing to him now? How can you expect me to trust your word ever again?"
"Doktor Falke." Klink bit his thin lips. "Fraulein Doktor. I am not the man you think me. If they behave, no harm will come to any of Hogan's men from me. But, because they are Hogan's men, I cannot protect them from the sadist who wants to kill him. What does one Negro sergeant matter? He is unimportant, even to the Allies."
"He is not 'unimportant' to me, Kommandant. He is not 'unimportant' to Colonel Hogan. He is not 'unimportant' at all."
She tried to restrain her bitter words. "What does Colonel Hogan matter to you, that you are sending him away to protect him from Major Hochstetter?"
"Because when Hogan confesses that he is a spy … it does not matter that he is not and could not be one. Hochstetter is convinced that he is and the Gestapo are never wrong. When Hogan confesses … there will be mass murder. Him. His men. Me and my men. You, because you are the medical officer and are thus Hogan's most frequent civilian contact. My secretary, Hilda. Their flirtation is obvious. Perhaps also Schnitzer the veterinarian. Anyone who has met him will die. Don't you see that? I do not want to die, Fraulein Doktor. Do you?"
"Of course I don't want to die. I don't want anyone to die." Except Major Hochstetter. I would kill him myself with pleasure if I knew how.
She smiled an acid smile. "Hardly pacifistic, Doktor Pacifist," Colonel Hogan would say if he were awake and heard me.
"General Burkhalter authorized Hogan's transfer to Oflag Drei." He looked at her, shamefaced. "General Burkhalter told me that Hogan has influential connections in the United States – particularly in Washington." He bit his lips again. "Our glorious armies have made a few strategic retreats, to lure the enemy into a false sense of security. Yet, we Germans are magnanimous. We do not wish to destroy a gallant foe. … Hogan had an outstanding record as an 'ace' against our Luftwaffe. He's considered a hero in America. Yet, while at Stalag Thirteen, he has been a model prisoner. Cooperative. Even docile."
Doktor Falke looked doubtful. "Amenable to compromise? Ja. I will reluctantly grant that. Docile? Nein. He is far too full of conceit."
"I agree, but General Burkhalter believes Hogan will be 'amenable to compromise' if certain incentives were offered to him. Hogan is an intelligent, prudent man." Doktor Falke stifled a snort. "Ja. I've always found him to be arrogant and irritating too; but his men ... well, you know what he did for them and you saw how they adore him." Klink paused significantly. "Hogan is an ambitious man. He enjoys power; therefore, he will be eager to acquire more power. And he can win men's loyalty. He seems to have won yours."
"He is not without charm," Doktor Falke admitted.
"No, he is not without charm," Klink agreed. "The stick and the carrot, Fraulein Doktor. Marshall Petain was a hero to the French in the 1918 war, yet he saw the advantages of collaboration for France, and for himself as its governor, when they were pointed out to him. Perhaps if Hogan was offered the right carrots …"
Marlena gave Klink a sidelong glance. Was he fishing for her true opinion of Colonel Hogan's veniality, gauging her loyalty to the Reich, or hinting at a ruse to get the colonel safely back to America? Was he being honest with her, or was he setting a trap to snare Hogan and his men by first entrapping her?
She spoke cautiously. "Could you not arrange a prisoner transfer, like you did when Field Marshal Von Heinke was captured?"
"General Burkhalter is working on it. Hogan is important to certain parties, but as a colonel, perhaps not important enough to trade." Klink paused. "Rumour … there are indications, …pictures in the American press that … indicate that Roosevelt is quite unwell."
Marlena bit her lip, but said evenly, "So it all depends on the American president?"
"I hope not. I mean, I hope that he is not the only influential person Hogan knows. If so, should Roosevelt die … But he may know others. Burkhalter thinks so. Hogan bragged to me once that he had escorted the King and Queen of England on their tour of America."
Doktor Falke bit back her sudden irritation that Klink had not said North America. Now was not the time to be fussily patriotic. Lives may hang on how she phrased what she said. "From Washington to New York City. He also bragged of it to me." She looked at Klink hopefully. "The King and Queen of England are held in great esteem by their subjects, and by the Americans."
"I hope Hogan is as well regarded by them; but they probably do not even remember him."
"Colonel Hogan is, we have agreed, very charming, and I have heard the British monarchs appreciate charm. He must have impressed them."
"You don't think that it was one of Hogan's conniving lies?" Klink said hopefully. "The number of professions and achievements he has claimed for himself and his men, to ingratiate himself with me …"
Now Marlena bit her lips. Colonel Hogan had silenced her protest against sabotaging Herr Schultz's toy factory by his boast that he would have it rebuilt by his government. Perhaps it was a lie, like the other ones. Perhaps he was merely a minor functionary during the King's visit. Perhaps he did not have his president's ear.
She shook her head. No. It was preposterous, but I believed him. I believed that he could make his government rebuild the Schatze Toy Company. I believed his president sent him to England as his personal agent and observer the moment war began in 1939. I believe all his boasts are true. He met influential people. Air Marshal Tedder's aide, Group-Captain Roberts, is his close friend. I believe that, for him, the Group-Captain is working on my behalf with the authorities to get me a written promise that I would be fairly tried. A non-entity like me – of far less worth to him than is Herr Kinchloewen. Of far, far less worth. He insisted on guarantees before he would ship me to London. He would not surrender me unless the authorities promised I would not be executed while in their custody – that they would wait until he came back to defend me. He insisted as if he expected they would comply – important people like Churchill and Mackenzie King. And, in a way, they did. They let him take charge of me. They did not insist I be sent back regardless. These important people trusted him with someone they suspected of treason.
The realization amazed her. Who was this man she had fought against? Had she really despised him? Or had she deceived herself, out of prejudice and jealousy? Had she really cared about him?
"Herr Kommandant, I believe Colonel Hogan is all he says he is. No one can carry as much self pride as he does and not have a reason to possess it."
They remained silent for several minutes, staring out through the windshield at the driving rain.
"I hope you are right, Fraulein Doktor."
There was another long silence.
"Kommandant? Major Hochstetter had made these accusations in the past without applying torture. Why torture him now?"
Klink shrugged. "Who knows?"
"The war goes badly for Germany, doesn't it?" she ventured.
"Don't say that! Our glorious armies …" Klink faltered. "Don't say it, Doktor Falke. Don't even think it!"
"And why choose Colonel Hogan – a prisoner of war in the most escape proof camp in Germany? Are there no likelier suspects?"
"Who knows?" Klink paused. "Hochstetter's been ranting ever since that article appeared in the American press eighteen months ago – the article about the underground safehouse within a POW camp."
"Oh." Doktor Falke replied, suddenly feeling dizzy.
"Do you remember the time my men found you in the woods near the wreckage of an American bomber?"
"Ja," she cautiously admitted. "They had brought me to Stalag Thirteen suffering from a sprained ankle. I remember how kind you were to me then."
How could I forgotten what I had seen, and smelled, then? Charred flesh. Burning leaves and wood and fuel and plastic. The bits and pieces of metal and paper and bodies. How could I forget the climb up that hill? The searing pain in my ankle from twisting it when the plane's impact quaked the ground and threw me from my bicycle? Herr Kinchloewen finding me and carrying me to a safe watching spot while he inspected the site. How could I forget fainting to lure the guards away from him while he hid in the part of the bomber that had remained intact?
"You took a great risk, Fraulein Doktor. But then, I suppose your sense of duty as a doctor made you take it."
"Ja. I thought those men needed my help. Whoever they were, I had my duty to them as a doctor." Just as Colonel Hogan and Sergeant Kinchloe had their duties as soldiers.
Klink continued. "Several of my guards saw a man descend by parachute just before the plane crashed. They searched for him in the woods; but did not find him. Just you and the bodies of the men in the plane – what was left of them. In the morning, they found a tree with several branches broken, and a parachute buried in the ground nearby. My men examined it and said that the man in the parachute could not have cut the chute ropes by himself. There were footmarks that signified more than one man had recently loitered near the tree, and that one of those men had carried a heavy burden away from it.
"I did not pursue the incident. It was clear that the parachutist had escaped, and I did not want the Gestapo nosing around. No one does.
"Then a few months later, one of our agents in the America read the correspondent's – Hobson, I think his name was – article. Hochstetter started interrogating my guards about planes shot down nearby within the last year. One of the tower guards told him about the lone man who bailed out of the downed bomber. Added to the alarming destruction of military property that has occurred, and that Hogan's irritating presence always seems to hover about those incidents, Hochstetter thought the parachutist might have been this Hobson, and that Stalag Thirteen might house this underground safehouse. Ridiculous, that I would not know what goes on in my own prison camp."
"That was long ago – over eighteen months."
"That was when Hochstetter started annoying me over Hogan being a spy. Oh, there were others who made similar accusations, but Hochstetter has been relentless."
"Why torture him now, when he has suspected Colonel Hogan for months?" Doktor Falke persisted.
"Do you really want to know? I do not." Klink looked thoughtful. "Maybe it has something to do with Roosevelt's recent downturn in health," he mused. "General Burkhalter has often pulled Hochstetter away from us – Hogan and me – before now. Perhaps Hogan's value as a potential collaborator has also suffered a downturn. "
He shook himself. "Fraulein Doktor, we should not be having this conversation."
"I agree, Herr Kommandant."
"But think upon what I've said. Find a bolthole and disappear. Should Hochstetter make Colonel Hogan confess, all our lives are forfeit."
"Then I must not act as if there is proof to get. I must not disappear."
Klink looked at her in silence. "You care about those men of his. No, do not deny it."
"I am a physician, sir," she replied coldly. "It is my duty to care for anyone who needs my skills, no matter who they are."
"I said 'about', not 'for' his men. You are Hogan's most frequent civilian contact."
"You are his most frequent military contact," she parried. "And you are not leaving."
"I have my duty to the Reich. To my men." Klink paused. "To my ancestors. We Klinks are of the old aristocracy. We have always served the Fatherland. I could not live with myself if I betrayed my family and my class."
Doktor Falke looked at him with some respect. "You have always been conscientious to your duty, Herr Kommandant. I must be conscientious to mine. You have been a firm but fair guardian of those prisoners in Stalag Thirteen. I can only hope to do my work as well as you have done yours."
"Danke, Fraulein Doktor." Klink seemed touched by her sincerity. "It is not easy for you, I know, to doctor the enemy and then operate upon their victims. Like a lawyer who must defend a criminal, it is distasteful, and the mud sticks."
"Mein Herr, I try to follow the teachings of Christ, as well as the laws of the Fatherland."
"Fraulein Doktor. I have always observed the Geneva Convention."
"I know that, Herr Kommandant."
"We Germans are not such a bad people, are we?"
"No. I do not think we are." She looked back at him, and ventured, "but we are not the 'Master' race. Are we?"
Klink looked back at her, speculative. For a moment, Doktor Falke saw a slight smile curve the Kommandant's lips. Not a gloating smile. Not a taunting smile. Not a predatory smile. The smile of a man who discovers he can admit a truth to someone and not be punished for it. "No, Fraulein Doktor. I do not believe we are the 'Master' race." He paused. "I'll make things right. I mean, I am sorry how I used your morphine and … you need not worry."
"If they can be made right."
He hesitated. "It is really no different in the United States. They believe in racial segregation."
"Colonel Hogan doesn't. I am certain many other Americans do not."
"Then why do they have it?"
"I do not know." She paused. "It must be difficult for Americans to live together. All those different races and sects."
"Ja. Here we are all Germans. All the same."
They glanced at one another, and each saw the thought in the other's eyes. "We are not allowed to be different."
Despite herself, Doktor Falke heaved a wistful sigh, thinking of her old life in Toronto. People were very different there. Sometimes too different. It had irritated her, especially the awful cooking smells and the bizarre customs of some of her neighbours, but it was colourful. She missed it.
She was surprised to hear her sigh echoed by Kommandant Klink.
"Colonel Hogan and I had so many interesting discussions about his home." Klink began to warm to his subject. "I would like to visit the United States. The way Hogan described it … It seems a lively country."
Doktor Falke, recalled to what she pretended to be, said, "I am told it is very beautiful, and very vast. Mountains, prairies, deserts, lakes. Farms, cities. Something for all tastes."
"Hogan told me he came from Ohio. 'The Garden Spot of the Midwest', he called it."
"Really? The colonel told me he came from Connecticut. He told me that, should I visit him, he would treat me to 'Boston Baked Beans'." 'In maple syrup', she added silently, with a tiny smile.
"That would be Massachusetts, Fraulein Doktor. Boston is in Massachusetts. Maybe his family comes from there."
"Maybe, Herr Kommandant. There are many people with Irish ancestors, like Colonel Hogan's ancestors, living in Boston."
"He told me that, if I came to America, he would show me a place called 'Leavenworth'." Klink added eagerly, "It must be a fine military site. Hogan said every one of his superior officers had strongly recommended he spend time there."
Doktor Falke's cheek dimpled. "Indeed, Herr Kommandant?"
"Well, Hogan is no military mastermind. In fact, Fraulein Doktor, I am astonished that any civilized armed forces would make him a colonel. Yet if his superiors thought so well of him to send him to this Leavenworth for advanced training…" He broke off, puzzled.
Doktor Falke prodded gently. "Advanced training in what, Herr Kommandant."
"He said it was a military secret. Well," Klink continued happily, "when our forces occupy the United States, I will see for myself, won't I?"
"I am sure if Colonel Hogan recommended it to your attention, you will find it fascinating, Herr Kommandant." Doktor Falke smiled broadly.
"That's just what Hogan said to me. He assured me that once I saw Leavenworth, I would find it hard to leave."
"But I hope you will return here after your visit. Germany needs you."
Klink preened. "Do you think so?"
"I know it, Herr Kommandant," she said loyally. She meant it too. Wilhelm Klink was a good man, for a soldier. He was not saving Colonel Hogan's life merely to save his own.
Klink's face clouded. "I hope Hogan will be there to show me around. I have never been to America, and … well, Hogan has been, shall we say, good company."
"He may bear you some ill will for drugging him."
"Ja. I hope he will forgive me. I hope you will forgive me as well, Fraulein Doktor. Do you?" he asked anxiously.
As Doktor Falke thought her feelings through, they reached a checkpoint. Klink stopped at the gate.
A sentry splashed through the puddles to the driver's side of the car.
"Heil Hitler und Guten Tag, Herr Oberst. Fraulein. Your papers, bitte."
They handed over their identification papers. The young sentry scanned them. Doktor Falke held her breath, but the sentry paid no heed to her. He was used to even tottering grandmothers and little children holding their breaths as he examined their papers.
"Your business, Herr Oberst?"
"Fraulein Doktor Falke is enroute to Köln on orders of the Red Cross. I am taking her to the Dusseldorf train station."
The soldier stamped their travel permit and passed back their papers. "I am sorry that you must go to a bombed city, but I am glad you are not heading east, Fraulein Doktor," he said nodding to his partner to lift the gate barring the road.
"Why do you say that, Sentry?" Klink demanded.
The soldier shifted his feet uncomfortably. "The usual rumours of heavy fighting, Herr Oberst."
Klink looked at him narrowly. "You know something. Tell me."
The sentry grew more uncomfortable. "Tell me!" Klink repeated his demand.
"We have heard rumours … a radio intercept … garbled … perhaps it means nothing, Herr Oberst, but the rumour is spreading that Russian troops have crossed the Polish border."
Kommandant Klink and Fraulein Doktor Falke gaped at one another. "It's just a rumour," Klink said shakily. "You know how quickly unfounded gossip spreads."
"But if it is true…"
"Do you have a friend at the Eastern Front, Fraulein Doktor?" the sentry asked solicitously.
Klink replied for her. "Ja, Corporal. We do."