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Weaving A Web To Freedom
Book Three: Fliegerabwehrkanonen Spells FLAK
Chapter 16
Holding
Klink walked into SS headquarters and stormed up to the desk. "I want my staff car back! And I want it back now!"
"What staff car?" the Desk Sergeant asked.
"The staff car your Captain Krantz took from me last night!"
"Wait here, I'll get the Captain!" The Sergeant picked up the phone and dialed.
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Keys rattled against the cell door as the guard turned the lock. Hogan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, lifting his bare feet up off of the cold block floor. A shiver ran its course from head to toe, and he pulled the blanket tighter around his body and blinked to help clear his vision.
After observing the pallor of his prisoner, Krantz decided he needed to get the American Colonel's dry clothes back to him. They would help keep him warm in the cold cell. If the General Staff was looking for this man, it would be good if he were alive when they came. Besides, he didn't want any delays to his own interrogation of him. Time may be short and the sooner he could start the better.
The guard opening the door stepped back, while the other guard nudged Hogan to enter the cell.
Hogan stepped inside the dark musty chamber and glancing over the oppressive cubicle, managed to pull out one more sarcastic comment.
"I guess being an officer has its advantages, I get the luxury accommodations!"
He made his way over to the wooden bench that would be his new bunk.
"Only the best for our guests!" Krantz, answered back. "Make yourself comfortable, Colonel, you could be here awhile." Krantz nodded at the guard and the door closed.
Hogan sat down listening to the locking of the door. It was too dark to see, so he contented himself with getting his feet up off of the cold damp floor and lying down to conserve his strength.
Laying on his right side he lifted the towel up off of his fresh wound as a test; the warm trickle across his back told him it was still too soon to take the pressure off. He had to admit it did feel better to have the slug out. And...he was untied.
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Krantz reached the top of the stairs after he left the holding cells and turned toward the front of the building and the Gestapo Lieutenant who was demanding he release his prisoner to him.
On his way, he stopped to grab Lieutenant Hildebrand.
"Lieutenant, here's your chance to get a look at the American Colonel. I had to move him down to "Holding". His clothes and shoes have been drying in my office. Take them down to him." Krantz started to move on and suddenly remembered. "Oh, he's going to need another shirt. See what you can find."
Hildebrand turned toward Krantz office thinking, This was the price for being of lesser rank. He gets to be a "flunky".
Hmm, find him a shirt…where will… "Ah, yes, I know where there's a shirt." He said, deviously.
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As Krantz approached the front desk he saw Klink pacing impatiently and the Gestapo officer on the opposite side of the room looking out the window.
The Oberst would be first. Like the American said rank does have its privileges.
"Colonel Klink," the captain saluted. "What can I do for you?"
"I have come for my staff car!" Klink turned to pace over to Krantz, his swagger stick tucked tightly under his left arm.
"Jawohl, it is parked behind this building and the keys are in it. Is there anything else?"
Klink straightened. "Yes, how is my senior POW officer?"
Klink held his breath as he waited for an answer.
"He is alive and awaiting interrogation in one of our holding cells, Kommandant. He will remain there until the deposition of his case," Krantz announced.
"What case? You have nothing to implicate him in the bombings. I demand you release him to me at once!"
"I'm sorry, Herr Oberst…" Krantz was interrupted.
"I'm warning you, I will take this matter to General Burkhalter, who will take it to the General Staff! I don't think you want it to go that far!" Klink shouted, in a voice that surprised Schultz and Langenscheidt.
Krantz masked his anxiety and held his ground.
"I'm sorry, but the paperwork is already completed. I can not release him now without authorization."
It was moments like this when Krantz appreciated all the paper pushing he had to do.
"Very well, you leave me no choice. I'll be back!"
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Klink motioned to his guards to follow as he stormed out the door. Stopping next to his second staff car, he turned red faced to Schultz.
"Schultz, our staff car that was confiscated, is parked at the back of the building. Drive it back to Stalag 13 and tell Captain Gruber he is in charge until I get back. He is to continue normal camp routine. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Jawohl! Herr Kommandant, what do you want us to tell the prisoners about Colonel Hogan's absence?" Schultz asked.
"Tell them…tell them Colonel Hogan had to take some propaganda pictures with Major Hochstetter. At least that is not a total lie."
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Hogan lay in a twilight world with recent images flashing through his mind.
Dozier's face yelling, Hochstetter lying pinned down in the fire, Marie yanking her hand away, Dirk lying unconscious, He held and examined each one. Muffled voices, cell doors closing, and the almost imperceptible dripping of moisture plopping from stone to stone on the cell wall added atmosphere to his current situation.
Suddenly, a louder sound of metal clanking against his cell door overshadowed all the other sounds and he focused back on the present.
Hogan felt a knot form in his stomach, as he opened his eyes and looked toward the cell door.
They've come for me already?
With his right hand still pressing against his wound, he placed his left hand on his stomach and tried to swallow the nausea his dread had brought on.
Light flooded the darkness and Lieutenant Hildebrand entered the cell.
Hogan frowned, This was a new face.
Pushing against the wooden plank he was laying on and fighting both the pain in his side and the blanket that he kept wound tightly around him, he struggled to sit up.
"If you're the maid, I have a complaint the sheets weren't turned back!"
Hildebrand was not expecting the prisoner to be so bold.
"Stand up," the Lieutenant shot back at the disrespectful American.
"The Captain sent you your clothes. You need a lesson in humility! Put them on. "
Hogan placed his bare feet down on the cold stone floor of his cell and stood as Hildebrand took a step toward him and thrust the clothes at him. He concentrated on maintaining his balance as he took them. He was still having the occasional chill, brought on by his bodies attempt to maintain a normal body temperature, in a cold cell, while bleeding out what little warmth he had.
"Put them on now, Colonel! I have to report back to the Captain and I don't want him to return and find you still wrapped in a blanket and too ill to hear or answer questions."
Hildebrand folded his arms and smirked.
Hogan realized this man hadn't dealt with many POWs.
"I've got news for you, son, this isn't the first time I've felt a draft."
Hogan let his clothes fall on the planks he had been lying on, threw the blanket off and dropped the bloodied towel down on top of it. Grabbing his pants he slipped into them before reaching around for the shirt. "This isn't my shirt," Hogan looked at the Nazi military issued shirt and started to turn back around, when he felt a hand on his left shoulder holding him in place.
"What is this?" Hildebrand asked, pointing at the leaking wound.
"Ask your Captain!" Hogan shoved his right arm into the shirtsleeve and turned to face the young Lieutenant.
Hildebrand looked hard into the prisoner's face, "You'll be glad to answer our questions in a few hours, Oberst!"
Hogan sat down, grabbed the towel he had dropped on top of the blanket and put it back in place in an attempt to stop the blood from soaking through his shirt.
"We'll see!" he answered, as he began putting his shoes on.
The Lieutenant turned and stormed out of the cell. Hogan reached down to grab the blanket before the light disappeared again, and a wave of dizziness swept over him. Without light to see, he clutched the side of his bunk and planted his feet squarely on the floor, hoping this would help him regain his balance. He waited for a moment for the dizziness to pass and took some deep breaths.
Sitting in the dark buttoning his shirt, his hands trembled and he wondered how long he could hold out.
A thin line of light slid in under the door giving him a point of reference in the otherwise pitch black cell.
So, here I sit in the middle of Germany, in the dark, waiting for someone to tell me if I live or die. Life before the war is getting harder and harder to remember.
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Lieutenant Dresdner wasted little time stepping up to Krantz after Klink exited.
"Major Hochstetter will not be as easy to dismiss, Captain! He is arranging for the prisoner's release to the Gestapo as we speak."
"Really! Well, as of right now, I have not received any orders from my superiors, so you may as well join Oberst Klink and leave," Krantz answered, dismissing the Lieutenant.
"You will not be so smug when Himmler is informed of the SS's interference in our investigation!"
"Don't count on it, Lieutenant. Herr Himmler will not interfere in an investigation of his Waffen SS! We will procure the aristocracy of the 'Master Race' based on honor, obedience and courage," Krantz proclaimed proudly.
Dresdner countered, "The Geheime Staatspolizei are expert in their techniques, we can gain information, you can only dream of acquiring! We have unconditional authority here! "
"I cannot stand here and debate with you, I have work to do. Come to me when you have written authority." Krantz turned and walked away with a purpose.
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"Roll Call! Everybody up, up, up!" Schultz walked around shaking bunks. The men started complaining as they irritably began rolling out of their bunks. All excluding the four who usually complained the loudest.
"What's the matter with all of you? You're not complaining this morning?"
"Bug off!" Newkirk murmured.
"I don't make the rules…" Schultz began.
"I just carry them out!" the chorus of POW's finished.
"Ja, ja, and you must follow them! Now, go outside for roll call! Out, out, out," Schultz called herding the prisoners out the door.
"Somebody better get the Colonel," Kinch said, almost choking on his words. They had to play the game. The other three heroes gave Kinch a sharp look and then joined in.
"Yeah, Schultzie, he went to dinner last night with that German Colonel that came to camp. Must not have gotten back until late," Newkirk added.
"I'll go get him," LeBeau headed for the door, dreading opening it, knowing what he would find.
"Nein, Cockroach. He's not here. Raus, go, go, go!" And Schultz shooed them outside.
"What do you mean he's not there?" Carter asked, still looking pale.
"Yeah, where is he, Schultzie? Newkirk questioned.
The fellas realized that Schultz must already know the Colonel had been killed. Now they had to pretend they knew nothing. This was more difficult than they had imagined.
"Line up, so I can count you!" Schultz responded.
"Hey, you didn't answer our question! Where's Colonel Hogan?" LeBeau insisted.
"Colonel Hogan is with Kommandant Klink. Now, get in your place. Schultz started his count. "Ein, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs, dreizehn, vierzehn…"
The men looked toward the Kommandant's office and saw Captain Gruber marching toward them.
"Hey, where's Klink?" Carter asked leaning over to Kinch
"Don't get excited, Carter. He's probably…" Kinch almost said "identifying the body" but after looking at Carter, he decided that was the wrong thing to say. "…helping at Dozier's camp."
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"HILDEBRAND!" Krantz called as he walked back to his office.
The Lieutenant stopped what he was doing and answered the call, "There you are, Captain, I …" The Lieutenant was cut off.
"Bring the American up here; I will talk to him now."
"Ja, Herr Captain!" Hildebrand responded with exaggerated formality and then realized his superior officer, and friend, had lost his joviality. "Is there something wrong?"
Krantz looked at his friend through hardened eyes and then gradually softened. Motioning him into the room he ordered, "Close the door." The Captain pulled the Petri dish out of his pocket and handed it to the Lieutenant, who took it and examined it.
"This is starting to add up. I saw the wound on your prisoner's side. When I asked about it, he said to ask you. I assume I'm right in guessing you cut this out of him?" Hildebrand questioned. His admiration for his friend and Captain was growing.
"Ja, just before I moved him downstairs." Krantz held out his hand to receive the specimen back. "Not only did he miraculously survive the explosion, but he was shot in the process."
"So what's your problem? Surely you can make this into something…even if it's not!" Hildebrand offered. "I mean we've done more with less in the past."
"Yes, but we did not have any competition. I know for a fact the Gestapo wants him, and Oberst Klink says the General Staff wants him. If that is true, I may not get the opportunity to make a case. I have to get a confession, or at least some way of tying him and Dozier together in the sabotaging of the cannons. There is more to this man, I can feel it."
Hildebrand thought for a minute, "I don't know; I'm not totally convinced he's brave enough to be involved in anything like that. He seems far too passive. I humiliated, shoved, and threatened him; I saw no fight in this man."
"You weren't there when I cut this bullet out of him! Most men would have cried out. The most he let escape was a groan. I threw him a towel when it was over, and told him to put pressure on his own wound. He was able to find the strength to do it. Don't forget he had already been in the explosion on the bridge and exposed to the elements. I don't think I have the time it will take to get information from him, but I will try. Go and get him, Jonathan. And do not make the mistake of misjudging your opponent. He is stronger than you think!"
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"Hey Schultz," Kinch called after Roll Call. "What are Klink and Colonel Hogan doing?"
Schultz found himself surrounded by four POW's. "The Kommandant said they were taking propaganda pictures."
Schultz stopped and looked around at the prisoners. They stood like mannequins their eyes showing disbelief of what they had just heard. He looked from one to the other waiting for the familiar banter to begin. But it did not.
"Did I say something wrong?"
In a quiet lifeless voice Newkirk asked, "You're kidding aren't you? I mean not even Klink would do that…would he?"
LeBeau began talking in French so fast, even if the others could speak it, they would not be able to understand. Reverting to English he ended with, "filthy Boche!"
"I can't believe anyone would or could do something like that, I mean I know we're at war, but…golly, how could you?" Carter's disbelief changed to Anger.
"This is about as low as I've seen Klink sink. How could you let him do this Schultz? I thought you liked the Colonel?" Kinch accused.
"What's the big deal? It's just a few propaganda pictures?" Schultz stood wide-eyed and dumbfounded. Even if it were true, why should it upset them? "Major Hochstetter…"
"Hochstetter!" They cried out in unison. "You're not letting Hochstetter near him!" LeBeau demanded.
Kinch decided it was time to put an end to this conversation and moved them in one mass toward Barrack Two. The image of the Gestapo Major demanding to be released from the hospital to see Hogan's dead body was not hard to envision. They entered the Barracks and sat stunned around the table.
Newkirk finally broke the silence and voiced what the others barely dared to think, "I can just imagine Hochstetter standing over him and acting like the Colonel was some bloody trophy!"