Stalag 13

November 1944

Day 7

The noon time roll call had come and gone and Hogan and his men were still at Stalag 13. Hogan looked at his watch, slowly pacing the floor of the barracks like an expectant father. The rest of the heroes sat at the table, playing cards and watching Hogan pace.

"Would've been nice if they had told us when they were going to need us," Newkirk said.

"Yeah," Carter said, "instead of leaving us sitting here, feeling like we're waiting for the axe to fall."

Hogan stopped pacing. "Carter..."

"Sorry, sir."

"It's true though," LeBeau said. "We do feel like we're waiting for the axe to fall!"

"I know..." Hogan resumed pacing. The door to the barracks opened and Schultz came in.

"Time to go, Schultz?" Hogan asked.

"Nein. The Kommandant wants to see you."

"Oh. You wouldn't happen to know what time we're supposed to leave for Düsseldorf do you?"

Schultz shook his head. "The Propaganda Ministry will notify us when we are to bring you in."

Hogan nodded. "Okay." Schultz stepped aside of the door to let Hogan out first.

"Colonel Hogan," Klink said, after Hogan had entered and took a seat by the Kommandant's desk. "This broadcast this evening is very important and I want you to remind your men that you all must be on your best behavior. There will be many important people at the radio station tonight and it is rumored that the Fuehrer will be listening to the broadcast."

Hogan's smile was broad. "I bet ol' Adolph is a great jitterbugger."

"Hogan! The Fuehrer will not be listening for the music content!"

"Why else would he be listening?"

"To hear the voices of the youth pledge their loyalty and allegiance to the Reich."

"Ah, I see. And as an added bonus he'll hear Major Glenn Miller pledge his new found forced allegiance to the Reich."

"I have been told by the Propaganda Ministry that Miller has been most cooperative. And I expect you and your men to be most cooperative as well."

"Oh we have been, Kommandant. But I'm not aware that any of us will be speaking during the broadcast."

"No, but it will be mentioned that some of the band members are POW's. Your names will all be announced by Major Miller."

"You don't think he'll come down with a sudden case of laryngitis and not be able to speak?"

"The Major's resistance thus far has been minimal. The Propaganda Ministry is sure that he will go through with the broadcast and will not pull any tricks."

"You mean he'll be heavily persuaded not to pull any tricks."

"Colonel Hogan, when are you going to realize that the Major's lack of heavy resistance only shows that he wishes to cooperate? It's quite possible that, given he has seen the war from the other side in the same time that you've only seen it from a prison camp, the Allies may just be crumbling in their fight."

"It's more possible that he's been threatened enough to cooperate." Hogan stood up from the chair, grabbing his crush cap off of Klink's spiked helmet. "And the Allied fight has not and will not crumble, Kommandant. For that is certain." Hogan turned to the door.

"Hogan."

The Colonel stopped and turned back.

"Remember, I expect you and your men to behave during this broadcast."

"Don't worry, Kommandant, we'll act no worse than we ever have here." Hogan gave an apathetic salute before walking out of the office.

Düsseldorf Hotel

DüsseldorfGermany

November, 1944

Day 7

Major Miller sorted out what was left in his kit, carefully placing various items within the pockets of his uniform. He had only a few items left from what he had started with 5 days earlier. He was down to three-quarters of a pack of cigarettes, one chocolate bar, and one package of crackers. The SPAM, coffee and cookies were gone. The loss of the SPAM was unfortunate, as the crackers were a bit on the dry side and benefited from being paired with the SPAM. But, the crackers were edible at the least and Miller knew he was in no position to be choosy.

He pocketed the comb and spare blade for the razor easy enough in one of the breast pockets. He wrapped the spare blade in bath tissue, hoping to provide at least enough of a barrier that if he turned the wrong way or bent over to quickly the blade wouldn't cut into him too deep. Of course, it had a lot of material to cut through first, the most of which was the brown uniform jacket he wore. But better to be safe than sorry. The razor head itself was placed in one of the bottom pockets of the jacket along with the soap. The crackers found a spot in the other pocket with his cigarettes. The chocolate bar was opposite the comb and spare blade.

So with the few items of his kit now distributed between the four pockets of his uniform jacket, Major Miller stood before the mirror in the washroom and eyed the pockets, making sure they didn't look too bulky or showed that they were hiding anything. He adjusted the jacket upon his shoulders, turned, keeping an eye on the pockets and determined that the pockets hardly betrayed a thing.

Of course he had plenty of room. As he studied the pockets and the jacket as a whole he was reminded once again of the fact that he had lost a few pounds since the uniform was originally cut and tailored for him, nearly two years earlier. Somehow it seemed like a lifetime ago...

He sighed and exited the washroom, turning the light out. The small pack that had been used for his kit was placed on the bed, empty. He could do nothing more now than wait.

Town of Düsseldorf

DüsseldorfGermany

November 1944

Day 7

Fritz and his men were waiting too, as patiently as they could. Fritz's men were already dressed in the Gestapo uniforms, and had been for several hours. Although they were all well hid, the passage of time increased their chances of being caught. Some alleyways and hallways only stayed empty for so long. Fritz especially was concerned with the radio station appearing practically deserted during the morning hours. There had been no sign of the youths, of Major Miller or of Colonel Hogan and his men. Fritz wondered if something had happened and if the broadcast was to be called off. Surely the principles of broadcast would have been there by now?

"It is too quiet," Fritz's partner, Emery, noted. The two of them were seated at a table in a Bierstube that was across the street from the radio station and where they could watch the front entrance. They too were dressed in Gestapo uniforms.

"Ja," Fritz said, never turning his eyes from the window. "I'm not sure I care for it."

"Perhaps we are just too early," Emery said. "The broadcast is not until eight o'clock, they may not bring everyone in until this afternoon."

"Perhaps. And that is logical." Fritz sighed. "But it makes for a long wait."

Emery nodded.

It wasn't until almost three-thirty that activity started to pick up around the radio station. Fritz and Emery, along with all of the underground agents who had been waiting, watched as cars pulled up with Gestapo and Propaganda Ministry people. Hochstetter was there, giving orders, sending his guards to their positions. The Propaganda Ministry people went inside the radio station.

About ten minutes later, a Gestapo truck pulled up to the radio station and the young musicians climbed out of the back. Fritz watched them file through the front door of the radio station. He then looked at Emery.

"Now it begins..."