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.
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
Stalag 13
November 1944
Day 4
The next day, LeBeau headed over to the kitchen to volunteer to help prepare the lunch time meals. In his pocket was the short note from Colonel Hogan to Major Miller and with the help of the other prisoners that worked the kitchen, LeBeau was able to determine which tray would be for the Major. This time it would not be just bread and water. LeBeau nodded to two prisoners who took positions on either side of him, hiding the Frenchman as he removed the paper from his pocket and placed it on the plate before scooping the day's lunch onto the plate. He then put the metal cover over the plate and the other two prisoners stepped away, looking natural in their movements.
A few moments later, a guard came to get the tray for the prisoner in the cooler. LeBeau handed the tray to the guard, who lifted the lid to check it first and then recovered it, walking out of the kitchen.
In the cooler, Major Miller was pacing, trying to keep warm. He heard the clanging of the cell block door opening. There was then the rustling of keys and the opening of his cell door. He stopped pacing long enough to see the blur of the guard leaving the tray, and then the cell door was locked shut again.
Although the Major wasn't very hungry he knew that if he ate, it would help keep him warm. He sat down on the bunk and took the lid off the tray. He did not sense any heat therefore he knew whatever it was it was a cold dish. He picked up the fork and sampled the food, immediately recognizing and disliking the taste. Sauerkraut. Again. He wondered if there must have been an excess of cabbage in the Third Reich and they were feeding it all to him for the past three days. He also had a slice of bread, somewhat stale, and a coffee cup with water that completed the main course.
Miller ate, trying to ignore his dislike of the taste. His thoughts wandered, as they had for most of the time spent in the cooler. Hochstetter....pompous little son of a... More than likely the Gestapo Major had control over what would be served...and not served. Would they tease with a hot dish at dinner then feed him nothing the next day? Miller knew why the Gestapo Major had taken the uniform jacket and glasses. He saw the ploy. Hochstetter would try to break him yet...
Miller's thoughts were interrupted when his fork pulled something from underneath the sauerkraut. He pulled it out completely and then took a hold of it with his fingers. Paper?
He placed his fork down and put the tray aside. He unfolded the little paper and saw the blurred lines of handwriting. He stood up from the bunk, going to the other side of the cell where some of the light from the window above shone in.
Without his glasses, he had to hold the note a few inches from his nose to read it...
Major--
I know you won't like this, but I want you to agree to the Propaganda Minis. proposition.
I have an idea but I need you out of the cooler to do it. If you wish, consider this an order.
--Hogan
Miller sighed. The thought of agreeing to the German's demands did not appeal to him at all. Frankly, he would rather remain locked up in the cooler and damn near freeze to death, than to let the Germans use him and the music that he so cherished for their own manipulation purposes. But he had agreed to give Colonel Hogan the chance to get him out of Germany and as such Miller had no intention of being a pain in the backside. He would cooperate in any way he could. Though, he knew he didn't have to like it.
He folded the note back up and returned to his bunk to finish his lunch. He then pondered, looking at the paper in his hand, do I have to eat the note too?
Later that afternoon, Hogan did more of his squeaky wheel routine with Klink to in regards to the 'top secret' prisoner. In true fashion, Hogan started directly after barging into the Kommandant's office.
"Ok, Kommandant what's going on? Everybody in camp knows that this secret prisoner of yours went into the cooler yesterday afternoon, after Axis Annie showed up. My guess is she's trying to get whoever it is to do propaganda broadcasts and he nixed it. If he's in the cooler, then that puts him under your responsibility and if he's under your responsibility I should be allowed to see him."
Klink looked at Hogan, exasperated. "Hogan, how many times do I have to tell you? The man is not a prisoner of war! He is a prisoner of the Gestapo."
"He's an American officer captured by the enemy. He should be classified as a POW and given the rights of all POW's—"
"--Under the Geneva Convention," Klink said blandly with Hogan.
"Well?" Hogan continued. "They're holding him in a POW camp! Doesn't the Gestapo have jails of it's own?"
"He's only here temporarily, Hogan, I told you that. It is out of my control, there is nothing I can do. It is a matter between the Gestapo and the Propaganda Ministry. Disssssmissssed." Klink gave a salute, indicating the conversation was over.
But it wasn't over for Hogan. "Yeah, the Propaganda Ministry," he said. "That's what you meant by that crack the other day, about us regretting our generosity. You knew all along that the Propaganda Ministry was going to try to use this fella in some scheme. Sounds to me like he was kidnapped. That's why you keep telling me he's not a POW. And if the Propaganda Ministry is going to all this trouble, it must be somebody pretty important."
Klink slapped his hand down on his desk and glared up at Hogan. "Very well, Colonel Hogan, I'll humor you." Klink stood up from the desk and approached Hogan. "For your information, it is somebody important. Somebody very well known not just in your country but all over the world. And when the Propaganda Ministry decides it's time, you will know just who, exactly, it is. But until that time, you will get no such information from me." Klink saluted again. "Dissmissed, Hogan."
The door to the office opened and Shultz came in. "Herr Kommandant...uh--" Shultz looked at Colonel Hogan and then at Klink.
"Yes, Shultz, what is it?"
Shultz chose his words carefully. "Herr Kommandant, the prisoner in the cooler has reconsidered."
"Very well, Shultz, I will let Hauptman Riegels know."
"Reconsidered?" Hogan said. "Reconsidered what?"
"Hogan you were dismissed! Shultz! Get Hogan out of here!"
"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!" Shultz turned to Hogan, who turned to the door.
"I can't believe it, Kommandant," Hogan said. "You're letting them take over the camp..." he muttered as he left the office.
Klink was about to call him back to explain himself but then just waved a hand at the closing door. It was just Hogan being Hogan as usual.
Back in the barracks, the heroes gathered at the table when Hogan returned.
"You know, instead of calling Klink the Iron Eagle, he should be called the Iron Lip," Hogan said. "Even though he took a moment to gloat again, he didn't name names. Of course, I'm not pushing him that hard either. I also heard from Shultz that Miller has 'reconsidered,' so we should be seeing our friendly local Gestapo man back along with Frick and Frack."
"Then what happens, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.
Hogan sighed. "As much as I hate to say this LeBeau, I don't know. We'll have to wait and see the first move the Propaganda Ministry makes, where they might take him and then figure out how we can tag along."
"Hey, maybe we can be Stalag 13's answer to the Crew Chiefs," Carter suggested in humor.
Hogan chuckled. "Yeah..." He stopped and a light came on in his dark eyes. "Yeaaah. If Miller can suggest that he needs vocalists for this broadcast, we could tag along that way."
"What if he doesn't?" Newkirk asked.
"Well, then we can suggest he needs vocalists for the broadcast."
The entrance to the tunnel suddenly clattered open and Kinch came up the ladder. He stepped out, slapped the top bunk and the entrance closed. He turned to the Colonel and held out a piece of paper. "Message from London. Keep in mind, sir, this is directly quoted."
Hogan unfolded the paper. "To Colonel Hogan from Headquarters, regarding Major Miller...what the hell is taking you so long?" Hogan rolled his eyes. "This is turning out to be an impatient war! What do they think, I can just spring him out like that?" Hogan snapped his fingers. "He's being held in solitary confinement and nobody's even supposed to know he's here. And you can bet if the Krauts knew that we know he's here, they'd move him faster than you can say Kalamazoo and then we might not know where they take him and if we don't know where he is, we can't necessarily free him can we?"
"You want me to tell London that?"
"Absolutely not. You tell London, quote, I'm working on it, end quote."
With the entire camp placed on lock down once again, the signal was given for Major Miller to be released from the cooler.
Miller's back was facing the cell door. He heard the guard unlock the door but he didn't turn around. Just because he was agreeing didn't mean he had to be pleasant.
"Major Miller," Anna said. "We are glad you have reconsidered..." She stood, holding the Major's jacket and glasses.
Hogan was right, Miller hated this. The Major let out a deep breath and turned around. He slowly stepped toward the door of the cell and the blur that was Anna. He saw the blur of black and red out of the corner of his eye and knew Hochstetter was there too. He looked at Anna, seeing the US Army brown material she was holding in her hands.
"My jacket and glasses please..."
He saw her hand move and he reached for his glasses. With eyesight returned, he then received his jacket. He put the jacket on, straightened it upon his shoulders and buttoned it up. He said nothing as he stepped out of the cell and brushed past Major Hochstetter.