No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.
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Hogan concocted and abandoned plans with almost every step as he and Newkirk were led down the main street. His mind was in a whirl; how was he going to make this mission a success now? He knew Le Beau, Carter, and Kinch would be safe enough with Schultz; they might even be able to tamper with the cars of those involved in the meeting today. But how was he going to find out what the Luftwaffe was capable of if he couldn't get to the contact? Stealing an occasional quick look at their stern, silent guard, Hogan considered his options. Could he create a diversion? What if he suddenly became ill when they were near the Landgasthaus? Would Strohm consider it necessary to get him medical attention in the nearest building? A sharp memory of Strohm's comments about the Gestapo negated that possibility. A forced liberation? The streets were unusually quiet today…. No, too risky, with too many disagreeable consequences if it failed.
Hogan heard low grunting beside him and glanced at Newkirk. The Englishman was shaking his head and muttering to himself, something Hogan knew was a sign that Newkirk was angry, and worried. He had to come up with something, and soon.
His concentration must have slowed his step, because he suddenly found himself being prodded from behind. "Move, Colonel," sneered Strohm. "We have places to go."
Hogan straightened to move his back away from the barrel of the rifle. He tried not to look at Strohm, whose uniform still sent shivers through him. "The spare parts dealer might be a bit of a walk from here," he commented dryly.
"There are more important things to attend to," Strohm answered. As they approached a street corner, he ordered, "Turn in here."
Hogan turned to see the entrance to a large building. "This isn't the shop," he said.
"No. It is the Landgasthaus." Hogan was instantly alert. Newkirk's grunting ceased and he looked at Hogan questioningly. "Now move." Waving his rifle, Strohm guided the two prisoners inside.
Looking around the grand lobby, Hogan looked for anyone that could remotely be disguised as their contact, anyone who could see the situation they were in and come to their aid. But to his dismay there was no one in sight, not even a front desk clerk. Newkirk managed to whisper to Hogan, "I don't like the look of this, Colonel."
Hogan nodded. "Neither do I," he answered. "Just hold on. We'll see what happens."
Another SS guard appeared. "Heil Hitler!" greeted Strohm.
"Heil Hitler," said the other man.
"I am to escort these men for interrogation," Strohm said by way of explanation. Hogan raised his eyebrow and stole a glance at Newkirk, whose face mirrored his own unease.
"Jawohl. Remember, no interruptions today."
"Ja. They shall be kept out of sight…and very quiet."
The other officer laughed. "They all grow quiet eventually, don't they?"
Hogan shifted his weight, and briefly closed his eyes to blot out the shiny black boots that flashed more unpleasant, indistinct memories through his mind. He could not afford to lose his concentration, not now. He found no humour in this exchange, and knew that even without Hogan's personal experiences behind him that Newkirk would not be amused either. Hogan's mind was ticking over a mile a minute. Strohm had no reason to suspect them of anything. So why was he taking them for interrogation? And why at the Landgasthaus, the one place that enemy soldiers should be nowhere near today?
A brief, pleasant conversation ensued, then Strohm led Hogan and Newkirk to the lift. "I apologize for having to expose you to that," Strohm said quite unexpectedly as the doors shut.
Hogan kept his eyes facing forward. Newkirk gave a start but did the same.
"You are probably anxious today," Strohm continued. "Worried. Thinking of your family." Hogan again raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Have you family you miss, Colonel?"
Hogan glanced at Newkirk, whose eyes were telling a story of distrust mixed with apprehension. "We all have family, Captain," was all Hogan said.
"My brother is on the Eastern front," Strohm confided. "I have not heard from him in months. All we have is a photograph." Hogan nodded, making eye contact briefly with Newkirk. He thought the Englishman was going to scream in mere seconds. "Have you photos of your family, Colonel?"
"I've managed to keep a couple, even in a Luftstalag," he answered.
"Of your girlfriend, perhaps? Your wife?"
"My mother." Hogan nodded very briefly at Newkirk, whose eyes were starting to widen in understanding.
"Perhaps you have it with you. I would like to see an American mother."
Hogan nodded carefully. Then, displaying his empty hands to Strohm, he slowly reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a photo. A woman in a dress, standing outside a cheerful home. There was half an arm around her shoulders that had no one attached to it; the photo had been ripped in half. "That's Mom," he said, his hands cold with fear and anticipation.
"Here is my brother," said Strohm, reaching for his own family portrait. Blimey, thought Newkirk, this is a strange time for a family reunion! But Strohm pulled out a torn picture of a young man, smiling, his arm outstretched, wrapping around…. nothing. Newkirk watched in amazement as Strohm brought the photograph up to the one Hogan held, and the arm then embraced the woman. The photo was now complete.
Hogan stared at the armed man. "Angus Voelker?" he said in disbelief.
"Yes, Colonel. Well, Kurt really. But now I know I can trust you as well." Hogan gave him an inquiring look. "Agents are told my name is Angus; if someone has intercepted them, the replacement would never think to use such a name for me."
The German's body relaxed and he smiled. Newkirk thought he would pass out in relief. "Peter Newkirk," he said, shakily extending his hand. "Blimey, mate, you sure know how to put a guy off."
Voelker took the offered handshake. "It is part of my job to be as convincing as possible. I trust you will forgive the rudeness of my previous demeanour."
Hogan had to physically shake off his discomfiture before he spoke again. "You were uh…quite credible as a Gestapo goon," he said. "Speaking from experience."
"I beg your pardon, Colonel Hogan. I did not realize…"
"Forget it," said Hogan, as much to himself as to Voelker. "We've got work to do."
The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened into an ornate hallway. Voelker resumed his role as an SS official as they passed two other guards, and then led them into a hotel room, where he locked the door behind them. He put aside his rifle immediately and turned to face Hogan and Newkirk. "The meeting is taking place on the level above us. They have all assembled and are getting underway shortly. SS and Gestapo guards are in place securely around the conference room. The only way in or out is through them."
"Or as one of them," Hogan said. "I take it that's why you're dressed as you are; not just because black compliments your figure."
"Exactly." Voelker smiled briefly at Hogan's attempt at lightness. "And it is why you have similar uniforms here for yourselves. You would not get very far wandering around here dressed as an American Colonel and an RAF Corporal."
"How many are there?" asked Hogan.
"Fourteen, Colonel. And a dozen SS and Gestapo guards at any given time, working on a rotating schedule. They are due to change the guards in twenty minutes. That will give you just enough time to get ready."
"There's time before they'll look for you on shift. Let's go through some of the details. We need to know what to expect when you come back. What kind of people are in there?"
"Luftwaffe intelligence; some of the best strategists of the Third Reich. This offensive is intended to obliterate the Allied forces as never before. Each of these men has been hand-picked by Hitler. Apparently he is getting impatient with his army's lack of progress, particularly on the Eastern front. He has authorised a full-scale, all-out offensive strike."
"To pull the Allies into line," Newkirk surmised.
"And make the others fall in beside them, stunned by Germany's obvious strength," added Hogan.
"That's right," Voelker said. "So this is, of course, extremely important to everyone involved."
"How long are the guard shifts?"
"Four hours. Some are posted in the room, some out. There have been bodyguards assigned to these men since almost dawn today."
"Very precious cargo. You'll need to be inside. I appreciate the position you have put yourself in, Voelker."
Voelker didn't answer. Hogan didn't like the silence. "You'd better get moving, or you might be missed," he prompted. Voelker maintained his silence. He seemed to be having an internal battle which was playing out on his face. Hogan considered, exchanging quizzical looks with Newkirk, then said, "I know this is a dangerous mission, Voelker. But a lot of people's lives depend on it."
Voelker looked Hogan squarely in the eye. "Yes, many people's lives depend on me, Colonel Hogan," he said. "Including my family's." Hogan felt his stomach tightening, but he said nothing. "I cannot do any more for you today, Colonel," Voelker announced.
Hogan just blinked. Voelker couldn't mean what Hogan thought he meant. "I will not be meeting the guards for the changeover," Voelker said.
Newkirk moved in closer to Hogan, who suddenly trembled in a cold sweat. Were they being betrayed? "What do you mean?" Hogan asked, dangerously quiet.
"You will need me to get back to your companions; for that I will stay," said Voelker. "I will wait here until you are ready to return. But I will not be a part of that meeting."
"Why bleedin' not?" burst Newkirk.
"It is time for me to finish my work with the Underground," Voelker said. "My wife and I are worried about our family's future. Our daughter, she is the right age for Himmler's reproduction plan." He looked at Hogan, his eyes suddenly flashing anger and defiance. "I will not let Anna become a breeding machine for the Third Reich. Not for the Allied cause. And not for you."
Hogan paused, momentarily speechless. "When were you planning to tell us this?" Hogan spat. Inwardly, he cursed himself. He knew that Voelker was trying to protect his family. He knew that taking part in this mission was putting Voelker's life at risk, and, indirectly, his family's lives. He knew that any man had a right—and a vow—to protect his family, and that he was asking Voelker to put all that in jeopardy. But he also knew that only rooms away a plan was being formed to put many thousands of lives in danger. And he didn't have an alternate plan of action in place to secure the information the Allies needed.
"It is not a decision I have made lightly, Colonel. But I must put my family before all."
"And what kind of future do you think your family's gonna have when the Germans take over the rest of the free world? Do you think your daughter is suddenly going to be unattractive to a bunch of lonely Kraut soldiers back from the front, who haven't been near a female in months?" Newkirk argued bitterly.
"Stow it, Newkirk," Hogan ordered.
"Sorry, Colonel," he mumbled. "But what are we going to do?"
Hogan let out a deep sigh. "I'll take the guard duty myself."
"But Colonel—" protested Newkirk.
But Hogan cut him off. "We don't have a choice," he nearly snapped. "We have to get those plans." Newkirk nodded his solemn understanding. Hogan looked at Voelker, whose boldness had receded into a stoic resolve, then back to his subordinate. "Voelker says he'll stay to get us out. You stay here and keep and eye on him. Make sure that he keeps his promise. I'll meet the changing of the guards myself, get the information we need, and come back here. After that it's back to Schultz." He picked up Voelker's abandoned rifle and shoved it at Newkirk. "Use that if you have to."
Newkirk whistled under his breath in surprise. "How long will you be, Colonel?" he asked.
"Shifts are four hours." He firmed his own tenacity, and turned to be face to face with Newkirk. "Time to test your papers, mate," he said. Newkirk pulled them carefully out of his uniform and with a silent prayer handed them to Hogan. "I'll get changed. Where are our clothes?" he asked Voelker.
Voelker pointed to the adjoining room. "I'll be ready in ten minutes." He paused to draw a strengthening breath. "I hope you made the shirt 42 regular. I get lost in anything much bigger." He disappeared into the other room.
"And he'd better make it back," Newkirk growled at Voelker. "Or you'll have a lot more to worry about than Germany's repopulation program."