Stalag 13, Office of Kommandant Klink
December 14, 1943, 1500 hours
Sergeant Schultz opened the door to Klink's office and entered. He stood at attention and announced, "General Burkhalter to see Colonel Klink."
General Burkhalter entered the room, followed by a man in a hat and coat carrying a briefcase. Schultz noticed that Klink was sitting at his desk, asleep!
"Psssssssssssssssssst," Schultz alerted.
"Schultz, that isn't the way you wake a sleeping prince," Burkhalter said. He lifted the ashtray from the desk and slammed it down as hard as he could.
Klink jerked himself awake and started to look as if he were writing something. He looked up and noticed General Burkhalter standing in front of his desk. He stood up and saluted. "Oh, General Burkhalter," he said.
Burkhalter lazily returned the salute.
"What a pleasure," Klink continued. "I was so deep in thought, I didn't realize ..."
"Klink!" Burkhalter said loudly. "This is Colonel Sitzer."
"It's a pleasure," Klink said as he reached out to shake the man's hand. But Sitzer saluted instead, leaving Klink to pull back and return the salute.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Klink asked. "Not that there needs to be any reason ..."
"I'm from the Ministry of Propaganda," Sitzer interrupted.
"Oh, that's a wonderful branch of the service," Klink said. "Oh, what a job you people are doing. I've always said that you people are doing more to end this war than anyone else."
"Colonel Klink, we've been looking at your records," Sitzer said. "Very carefully."
A disturbed look came over Klink's face. "I can explain that. It's not my fault," Klink said quickly. "Although technically I was in charge of all the money at the officers club, Lieutenant Kleinminster also had a key and he ..."
"Klink!" Burkhalter interrupted. "Colonel Sitzer is talking about your perfect record in the camp."
"He is?" Klink asked, straightening himself and smiling proudly.
"Yes," Burkhalter responded. "What are you talking about?" he asked with a frown.
Klink shook his head. "Was I talking about something? I don't remember what it was," he said meekly.
"We believe what you have done deserved public recognition," Sitzer stated.
"I was only doing my duty," Klink said with false modesty. "Naturally, I'm flattered, and I hope that others will be inspired by my example."
The man's ego is already out of control, thought Burkhalter. I'd better shut him up before his head explodes. Burkhalter went on to explain that what they were doing was for the propaganda value, not for Klink.
Colonel Sitzer proceeded to tell Klink about the award he would be receiving on a national radio hookup. As Sitzer talked, Burkhalter walked over to Klink's schnapps bottle and poured himself a drink. Look at that buffoon, he thought. Listen to all that talk about humility. Klink is about as humble as I am thin!
After Sitzer had completed his duty of informing Klink about the award, he turned to Burkhalter and said, "I think we'd better be getting back to town."
"Oh, I'll have the car brought around right away," Klink said, walking to the door to the outer office and opening it. "Oh sir, I was wondering ..."
"You will receive the award in about a week," Sitzer said, shutting Klink up. "And remember, it's a secret."
Klink beamed like a new father. "You can depend on me," he said. "Absolute silence. A sphinx. They won't get a word out of me."
As Klink was talking, Burkhalter rolled his eyes. Mein Gott, he thought. The man is insufferable! "The car Klink," he said testily.
"Ah, the car sir," Klink said backing out of the room. "Yes, the car. Right away the car." Klink backed out of the room and shut the door.
"Are you sure that no prisoner has ever escaped from him?" Sitzer asked Burkhalter after Klink was gone.
"Don't look at me," Burkhalter replied. "I don't understand it either." Burkhalter turned towards the door and broke into a big smile. Actually, Colonel Sitzer, I understand it all too well. Klink is not the Colonel in charge of this camp!
Burkhalter opened the door as Klink was returning to his office. "The car is on its way," Klink said to the General.
"Good," Burkhalter replied. "Colonel Sitzer, I will join you in a minute. I have some camp business to discuss with Colonel Klink."
"Of course, General," Sitzer said and went outside to wait for the car.
"An award," Klink beamed. "I must say that if anyone deserved and award it would be ..."
"Klink! Shut up," Burkhalter said.
"Yes sir," Klink cowered. "Shut up."
"Klink, that prisoner that Hochstetter took from you a few months ago," Burkhalter said. "The one he claimed was a Russian and ended up being shot by the Abwehr."
"Prisoner?" Klink asked trying to act surprised. Inside he was nervous. The prisoner, Sam Minsk, was really a Russian that he had passed off as an American flyer.
"Yes, I believe his name was Sam Minsk," Burkhalter said smoothly.
"Oh, that prisoner," Klink responded. "Now I remember."
"Somehow I knew you would," Burkhalter mumbled. "Now that he is no longer in the camp, I would like to have his file."
"His file?" Klink asked meekly. "Why ..."
"Yes, his file, Klink," Burkhalter said. "Unless there is a reason why you do not want to give it to me."
"Oh, no sir," Klink replied. "No reason at all. It's just that my secretaries are out today, and I wouldn't know where to begin to look for it."
"Try under the letter M," Burkhalter retorted.
"Yes sir, the letter M," Klink said, and went to the file cabinet. After a moment of shuffling through the drawer, he pulled out a file and handed it to the General. "If I might ask," he began.
"You might," Burkhalter interrupted. "But you might find yourself finishing your question on the Eastern Front."
Klink clamped his mouth shut and nodded.
Burkhalter turned and left the office.
---------------
The fire was burning in the fireplace at Burkhalter's chalet, and the General was sitting back on his sofa. He took the file on the American flyer, Sam Minsk, and opened it. There right in front was the prisoner's headshot and number.
I was right, he thought. It is the same man that I saw at the market in Rastenburg. A prisoner from Stalag 13, who gets taken by the Gestapo, and then by the Abwehr who supposedly shoots him, somehow ends up in a market in Rastenburg. Now I know that Colonel Hogan is not only capable of getting information out of Germany, but also to move people around. He must also be able to get them out of Germany.
The General closed the file and sat back with a drink in his hand. He had been worried from the beginning of what he would do if his covert assistance to Colonel Hogan were discovered. He knew that it would mean the end of him. Now he was starting to think that, if given enough warning, he might be able to find his way out of Germany and survive. It would mean divulging his participation to Colonel Hogan in order to ask for help, which is something he never wanted to do. But if it came to either that or dying, then he would choose to tell Colonel Hogan.
He looked at the file in his hands and thought about the contents. If Sam Minsk were a real American flyer, then by the Geneva Convention, Klink should have informed the Red Cross so that his family could be notified. If not, then the contents of this file are complete fiction. In either case, Burkhalter knew that there was no longer a need for it. He removed the headshot photo from the file and tossed the remainder into the burning fireplace. He watched it slowly burn as he sipped the brandy from his glass.