This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any actual resemblance to persons or historical persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Some characters are named after actual persons holding rank in the United States Armed forces during the Second World War
The Hogan's Heroes characters, settings, ect. are owned by other entities who have not endorsed this fic nor have they given permission for their use. Author makes no claims to these characters and is not making any profit off their use.
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© Copyright: 2004. Lisa Philbrick
Gestapo Headquarters
Düsseldorf, Germany
November, 1944
Day 1
Major Wolfgang Hochstetter circled around his US Army Air Corps counterpart who was seated on a wooden straight back chair in the middle of the Gestapo interrogation room. No matter what, Miller would not look at the Gestapo Major. The band leader sat up in the chair and looked straight ahead or at any other corner of the room, but not at Hochstetter. The Gestapo Major couldn't tell if the avoidance of eye contact was out of fear or defiance. Most American officers that Hochstetter had had the pleasure of interrogating were usually brazen and cocky, at least until Hochstetter had knocked them down a couple of pegs. But this officer was different. While others had shown open defiance, this officer was reserved. Quiet almost to the point of being sullen.
Even the American Major's facial expression was held in reserve. Hochstetter couldn't understand why the man looked so battle worn, considering who he was and his position. Surely playing music couldn't be that draining on a person, could it?
Hochstetter checked his watch. The Propaganda Ministry asked that Major Miller be held at Gestapo Headquarters until they had secured a place to move him to. So far, the American Major had been in Germany no less than five hours, three and half of that spent in this one on one with Hochstetter. Miller was tired, but was still not straying from his mandated responses of name, rank and serial number. Hochstetter was actually quite disappointed. He couldn't use any intensive interrogation on the captured Major, and even if he could have he knew he wouldn't have got anything out of him anyway. By order of the Propaganda Ministry, the Gestapo was not to even touch Major Miller. So for three and a half hours, Hochstetter did the song and dance routine of making generalized conversation with the Major, which was mostly one sided, and then asking Miller what he knew of Allied plans for the war, which was total waste of time. Miller was the commander of a band, not a fighter squadron, and therefore, Hochstetter knew, would not have any strategic information about the Allies war plans. However, every time Hochstetter switched gears and asked about war plans, he got name, rank and serial number. Obviously Miller knew the routine.
Hochstetter took a deep breath, and continued pacing around the band leader. "Let's try this again, shall we? What do you know about the Allies plans on the Western front?"
Major Miller sighed and gave his same answer, his low voice echoing a little within the room. "Miller, Alton G. Major, US Army. 0505273..."
Hochstetter stopped pacing and stood off to the side of the US Army Major looking at him for a moment. He decided to change his tactic a little. "I know you do not know anything of the Allies plans for the Western front. You're a musician."
Miller sat, resolute. It's taken you three hours to figure that out? "Then why do you keep asking me?" he asked, still not looking at the Gestapo Major.
"Routine questions, given your rank. The Gestapo knows you would not have any knowledge of the Allied Command's battle plans."
Major Miller now turned his head and looked at Hochstetter, raising an eyebrow. There's a punch line to all of this?
Hochstetter didn't meet Miller's gaze and paced a few steps in front of the American Major. "Tell me Major, given that we know you know nothing of the Allied Command's battle plans, aren't you the least bit curious as to why we have you?"
Brown eyes peered through wire-rim glasses at Major Hochstetter. Miller kept a neutral face for a moment and then smirked slightly. "You're looking for trombone players for the Hitler Youth Swingtime Jazz Band?"
Hochstetter stopped and turned to face Miller, not amused. "No...but the Allied Expeditionary Forces Band is more than likely looking for a trombone player."
Hochstetter's tone was unnerving but Miller didn't let it show. "I'm sure they can find one."
"Yes but...can they find one as important as you?"
The American Major regarded Hochstetter with a guarded expression.
"Isn't it true, Major Miller that you were quite active in working to bring your American music closer to your soldiers? So much so that you gave up a very comfortable civilian life to join the US Army? Even more so that you insisted on being transferred to England to bring the music and a "touch of home" closer to those serving on the front lines? Isn't that true Major Miller?"
"It's no big secret."
"Don't you think if somebody as important as you were to go away, that perhaps all those efforts would crumble?"
Miller shook his head.
"No?"
"If you think kidnapping me will stop the broadcasts, you're wrong."
"Am I?"
Major Miller nodded. "That band is so tight they can easily continue without me. I've made sure it's that way, in case something should happen to me."
Hochstetter paused. Obviously the Propaganda Ministry knew this too or they wouldn't have issued the ultimatum to the Allied Expeditionary Forces. "Then what if I told you, Major, that at this time, the Allied Expeditionary Forces Band has been told in no uncertain terms that if one note from any of their instruments is heard during tonight's broadcast you will be sent back to England...how do you Americans put it? In a pine box..."
Major Miller looked directly at Hochstetter. "What is it you want with me?"
"The Gestapo wants nothing with you. However, the Propaganda Ministry would like to permanently cease the Allied broadcasts from London, and seeing as you're an important part of that, they decided they would have you brought here to Germany as our guest...for however long it took."
Miller looked at Hochstetter for a moment longer and then turned his gaze away, keeping his thoughts to himself. He knew what the Germans were trying to do. Take away the music in an attempt to demoralize Allied troops. It had to be the most outrageous and desperate stunt the Germans could pull at this stage in the game. But for the moment it would work as Miller knew the band wouldn't play with such an ultimatum hanging over them. The band members would feel like they were part of a firing squad the moment they raised their instruments to play. He knew they wouldn't do it. But the thought of the music not reaching the soldiers who were putting their lives on the line everyday....bothered him more than the fact his own life was on the line right now.
While Miller was contemplating this, the little window on the door to the interrogation room was slid open and a Gestapo guard signaled to Hochstetter. Hochstetter nodded and the window was closed. Miller looked up as Hochstetter appeared to be preparing to leave. "Not to worry, Major," the Gestapo man said. "You will be comfortable while you are here. The war shouldn't last too much longer and when it's over you can leave. Of course, with the Third Reich being victorious you may decide to stay here."
"I don't think so."
Hochstetter smirked. "We shall see... Now if you'll excuse me, Major, I will find out where you are going to be held next. Rest assured, the Propaganda Ministry does not plan on leaving you in one place for too long. We wouldn't want anyone to get any crazy ideas to try and rescue you."
Major Miller said nothing as Hochstetter turned and left the interrogation room.