The T.V. show Hogan's Heroes belongs to Bing Crosby Productions. No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred, and no infringement is intended.
Weaving A Web To Freedom
Book Three: Fliegerabwehrkanonen Spells FLAK
By Marty Miller Breedlove
Chapter 22
Good Night
"So, you're confirming he's fit to command?" –Over—
"That's right." Wilson fumbled with the microphone button. -Ov…Over-
"Here, take this thing back!" The medic thrust the microphone at Kinch.
There was a moment of silence, while London considered this information.
"All right, we'll send the plane in tonight, use 'B' coordinates." - Over –
"Papa Bear requests a one night delay. We may have additional information for you." - Over - Kinch waited for an answer.
There was another moment of silence.
"All right, tell Papa Bear we'll wait. We'll confirm pick-up at next broadcast." – Over and Out–
"Roger that!" – Over and Out—
Wilson and Kinch had spent the last half hour arguing. Wilson insisting the Colonel rest, and Kinch demanding to know if the Colonel's thinking was compromised.
"I made that judgment based on your account of his rationality. He was unresponsive when I got to him. But if I see his condition has deteriorated he's not going out tonight!" Wilson looked directly into Kinch's eyes, daring him to argue.
"I understand, Wilson, but at least the decision will be in our 'ball park' not London's."
Kinch, like the Colonel, never could see the logic of London trying to make decisions for them, when they were so far removed from the situation. You had to be present using all of your senses to make these kinds of decisions.
Wilson relaxed slightly, "All right, then. Send for me when he wakes up and I'll make my decision."
"Will do. How is Dirk getting along?" Kinch changed the subject. There was no point in arguing, at least he got this much of a concession out of Wilson. The Colonel will have to carry the ball the rest of the way. And I have no doubt he will.
"Dirk is doing fine. He'll be able to leave in a couple of days and finish his recovery with his friends and family. I'm going to go check on him now, and then I'm going to get him and myself something to eat." Wilson turned and headed out of the radio room. He stopped at the doorway and turned back. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Kinchloe! I'll handle the Colonel, too, if I have to!" Wilson turned back and continued on his way.
Kinch stood stunned for a minute and then smiled. Either Wilson's getting smarter or we've all been living together too long!
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Hogan, dressed all in black, stood next to the branch of the tunnel leading to the exit on the outside of camp, checking over his Lugar before slipping it into his belt. Wilson had finally relented, giving in to the Colonel's "logic", but not without first questioning all of their sanities.
"Carter, do you have your explosives?" Hogan asked.
"Yes, sir, right here!" Carter had been repeatedly caught staring at the Colonel; he was afraid he would wake up and this would all be a dream.
"Great…and Carter…"
"Yes, sir?"
"…don't let me catch you staring at me tonight. I'm not going anywhere. Stay focused on your surroundings and the job you have to do, understand?"
"Yes, sir! You can count on me, sir!" Carter nodded, determinedly.
"All right then, let's head out. And remember, as little talking as possible. Kinch is right: the woods will be full of patrols."
"Marvelous!" Newkirk muttered.
"Did you say something, Newkirk?" Hogan asked.
"No, sir, not me, I love these little outings…in the woods…surrounded by bad men with guns!" Newkirk answered, letting out some of his anxiety. It was expected. Hogan knew once they hit the quiet zone under the tunnel opening, the Englander would be all business.
"What are you complaining about? You're always asking to go into town!" LeBeau taunted.
"All right save it for later. Kinch, you take point, followed by Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk. I'll bring up the rear." Hogan ordered.
"Okay Colonel, come on you guys, follow me." Kinch struck out down the long dark tunnel and into the woods beyond.
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The Kommandant was having trouble sleeping. He tossed and turned until finally, he got up to get another glass of warm milk. He had received his report from the prisoners' medic. Wilson confirmed that Hogan's gunshot wound was mostly limited to the dermal layers with a small amount of muscle tearing. No internal organs were damaged but the Colonel would be more tired than usual until his body replaced the blood he had lost. The biggest problem now would be to prevent infection. Keeping the wound clean and healing was a priority. The medic also suspected a mild concussion from the bomb blast, resulting in Colonel Hogan's headache. A headache the Colonel denied he had. But Hogan had been caught rubbing his temples when he thought nobody was looking. The rest of his injuries were all believed to be fairly minor, abdominal, leg, and shoulder bruising, a few cuts, and of course the mangled wrists.
Klink took his glass of warm milk and walked through the connecting door to his office. Not a bad report, considering the bridge and the truck Hogan had been in, only moments before, were completely destroyed. Klink went to his office window. There had been many nights since the American Colonel's arrival that he had stood in his darkened office and looked out across the compound at his Stalag. He stared at Barrack Two. Schultz had reported Hogan's nine hour "nap", and that the American turned in early, shortly after evening mess. I guess Sergeant Wilson is right, you're going to be tired for a few days. Hopefully, you will have rested enough to get through tomorrow. I'm afraid you're going to be angry with me again, Colonel Hogan.
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A signal came from Kinch to drop to the ground, as yet again another patrol passed uncomfortably close by. They waited and watched as the enemy soldiers fanned out over the area. Finally they were far enough away for our heroes to resume their march. Unfortunately for Louis, he had dropped down among dead Burdock and was now busily pulling the prickly burrs off his clothes as he walked, placing them in a bag hanging from his belt. LeBeau kept his eyes open for useful plants and gathered them whenever he had the opportunity. He had grown up using many of the wild plants populating the French countryside, not only as food but also as natural medicines.
Hogan observed Louis busily stuffing his pouch and allowed himself to smile at this familiar sight. It felt good to smile genuinely; the opportunities had been rare lately. The moment was soon gone, and he forced his thoughts back to keeping a sharp lookout behind them, in case any of the patrols doubled back.
After a slow risky trek through the heavily patrolled woods, Kinch finally motioned everyone forward. As Hogan joined the gathering, Kinch pointed at the railroad trestle. Enemy patrols made a regular pass by the trestle on their rounds, keeping it under routine observation. Hogan studied the terrain looking for their best route in. The Colonel would take the lead now and move forward in spurts, waiting each time for Kinch to catch up to him, before moving out again. Kinch, after joining Hogan, would offer cover to the Colonel, and wait for the rest of the team, before again moving up.
Two hundred feet out from their target, Hogan stopped and waited for all of his men to join him. Silently, the Colonel pointed at Newkirk and LeBeau, and sent them off in opposite directions as lookouts. Kinch and Carter he sent to wire the bridge. Hogan would stay put as base, and keep an eye out in all directions, looking for any signals. Everyone would report back to this spot in twenty minutes.
Hogan hated this part of any operation…waiting for something to go wrong. It was much better to be actively doing something…anything… rather than waiting for something to happen. If we can knock this train out, it will put a crimp in the fire power of their ground forces for a little while at least. Hogan's forehead became moist with perspiration. Wiping the dampness off with his sleeve, he crouched, enduring the protest from his sore abdominal muscles, and the burn from the bullet wound on his left side.
A double flash of light, a pause, and another double flash of light, suddenly, streaked out at Hogan from his right. Newkirk's spotted something. If Newkirk is able to signal, whatever it is he saw isn't between me and him…yet. Hogan slipped his flashlight off his belt and signaled toward the underside of the trestle, firing his beam deep into the ravine where it would not be seen on the bank.
Kinch caught the signal and motioned to Carter. Both men froze.
In less than a minute, Hogan saw the German patrol walking along checking the rail on their way to the trestle. The patrol spread out along the bank shining their lights down into the ravine and across the bank. Kinch and Carter hung in the shadows trying not to breathe.
Hogan moved forward shortening the distance between himself and the patrol, putting himself within gunshot range in case he needed to provide cover fire for Carter and Kinch. Newkirk, in the meantime, was covering from behind the enemy soldiers, staying in the shadows and watching the Germans shine their flashlights in the direction of his friends. I hope you saw my signal gov'nor. Because if you didn't, it's too late now.
Both men were praying they wouldn't have to fire their guns.
Hogan, crouching behind a large boulder, peered over the top with his gun ready. How many are there? I see four…no make that five. He quickly dropped down, as a flashlight beam swept by and then came back to rest on the boulder he was hiding behind.
Kinch felt his mouth go dry watching the light linger over Hogan's head. From his vantage point he would have a good shot at any man who dared to come down to look closer. Don't worry, Colonel, I've got your back!
Newkirk watched intently for any sign of a gun being raised to bear down on his friends. He would drop any Gerry who tried it. Those Krauts seem to be looking at something, he thought, as his finger tightened on the trigger of his Lugar.
The light shinning over Hogan's head seemed to linger for an inordinately long period of time. Leaning against the backside of the large rock, the American Colonel listened for sounds that would indicate someone was coming his way. The seconds stretched into minutes. Finally, the light resumed its sweep and Hogan, taking in a deep breath, again looked over the boulder at the men above him. Whew, that was a little too close.
As Colonel Hogan watched there was a shout of orders and the patrol began to move out. Exhaling, Hogan counted his blessings and moved back to his original position to resume his watch.
As soon as the patrol had moved a safe distance away, Kinch motioned for Andrew to continue placing his explosives. Hurry, Carter, let's get out of here before the next patrol shows up. As if he had heard Kinch's thoughts, Carter began climbing down and the two saboteurs headed back to their commanding officer. Hogan watched his two demolition men until they dropped off one of the pilings, holding up the trestle, and disappear into the tall underbrush to begin winding their way back.
Hogan remained crouched out of sight and looked up at the moonless sky. Bomber's moon! You don't waste a night like this, he thought. If I were still flying, I would be dropping shells on enemy targets tonight! There's less light to silhouette a plane against the sky and with the German's Eighty-eights you need all the "edge" you can get! Hogan snapped his attention back down to earth at the sound of weeds rustling, a faint "ow", and then absolute silence. In a few seconds Carter arrived, rubbing his shin, followed by a smiling Kinch.
"You okay, Carter?" Hogan whispered.
"Yes sir," Carter answered, still rubbing his sore leg.
Newkirk and LeBeau soon joined them, and they all began moving back from the trestle.
After they were a safe distance away Hogan gathered his men around him to go over the next leg of their mission. Without thinking, he placed his right hand over his left side. Kinch scowled. Looking up, the Sergeant's eyes meet with Hogan's.
"Kinch, you and Carter hideout here and wait for the train. After it blows get back to camp," Hogan ordered.
"Colonel,I'd like to go with you!"
"You have your orders, Sergeant. We'll meet you back in the tunnel at…" Hogan paused to look at his watch, "…0300 hours. Good luck!" Hogan turned and motioned for Newkirk and LeBeau to follow.
There was no arguing when the Colonel used that tone.
Resigned, Kinch turned back to face Carter. "Okay, Carter, let's dig in."
He thinks I'm being too much of a "mother hen" and is afraid I won't keep my mind on the job, Kinch thought. Not staying focused is one thing the Colonel won't tolerate.
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The phone ringing woke Major Hochstetter and he sleepily reached for the receiver. "Umm…hel…hello."
"Major Hochstetter?" a voice questioned on the other end of the line.
"Ja, ja, this is Major Hochstetter."
"Heil Hitler," the voice snapped out.
"Heil…" Hochstetter rubbed his face and having been awakened lost his patience. "What do you want?" The Major looked at the clock. "It's midnight! Couldn't this have waited until morning?"
Hochstetter had spent a good deal of time tossing and turning, thinking about tomorrow's picture session with the cocky American Colonel, before he finally drifted off to sleep.
"Sorry, Herr Major, I thought you would want to know." The voice on the phone continued.
"Know what? Who is this?" Hochstetter was now fully awake and taking names!
"This is Lieutenant Dresdner. We have received word from our contact in London that Papa Bear has been reported dead!"
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
"Did you hear me, Major Hochstetter?"
"Say that again, there must be something wrong with our connection. I thought you said Papa Bear was dead." Hochstetter was trying to determine if he was dreaming or awake.
"Jawohl, Herr Major, that is what I said." Dresdner confirmed.
"How?" Hochstetter struggled to sit up straighter, giving his full attention to the caller. The notion was as upsetting as it was gratifying. He had not given up on the idea that a certain American Colonel was harboring the guise of Papa Bear deep in the belly of Stalag 13. To admit he had been wrong would be admitting he had allowed the real Papa Bear to operate uninhibited, while he chased a ghost.
His superiors had embraced the possibility of Hogan's secret life based on the Americans reputation and past history, to tell them he had been wrong would put his judgement in question, to say the least.
"That information has not filtered down yet, Herr Major."
"Well when it does I want to know immediately! Do you understand?" The Major's mind was racing. What will this do to the Underground unit operating here? Regardless of who Papa Bear was, they may start making mistakes with their leader gone.
"Jawohl!" Dresdner snapped back.
"Very good, Heil Hitler!" Hochstetter attempted to end the phone call.
"Major, there's more." Dresdner paused, trying to think of a good way to say what he had to say next.
"Well, are you going to tell me, or are you maybe saving it for Christmas, Lieutenant?" Hochstetter snarled while breathing heavily into the phone.
"Word has also come down that Captain Voss has been captured." Dresdner, held the phone out away from his ear waiting for the bellowing to begin, but the phone was eerily quiet. "Major…Major…did you hear me?"
"Ja, I heard you. Do you know anymore?" Hochstetter quietly asked.
"No sir, not yet," Dresdner was surprised to find he was more afraid of the silence than the shouting.
"Call me the minute you know anything more."
"Jawohl! Heil Hitler!" Dresdner answered loudly.
A quiet "Heil Hitler" filtered its way back across the telephone lines followed by a click.