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
Chapter 41
Tell Me
"How long have they been in there?" Carter asked as he paced back and forth between the Colonel's door and the stove, pausing by the door each time to listen.
"Twenty-one and a half minutes," Newkirk answered, without pause.
"That's twenty-one and a half minutes too long," LeBeau commented, folding his arms in front of him.
A gust of cold air blew past as Sergeant Schultz stuck his head inside the barrack. Holding his finger to his lips as he stepped inside, he motioned for everyone to be quiet and gather around. "Are the big shots still in there?" he whispered, pointing to Hogan's door.
"Yeah, Schultzie," LeBeau answered quietly.
"I came to tell you what the Kommandant told me," Schultz whispered.
"Go ahead, Schultz, We're listening," Kinch said, stepping closer.
"General Kaltenbrunner called Berlin and sent for Dr. Schmidt after he saw Colonel Hogan's wound." Schultz kept an eye on Hogan's door.
"Who is this Dr. Schmidt?" Kinch asked, scowling.
"Oooh, he is General Kaltnebrunner's personal physician and a conferring physician to the Fuhrer's doctor." Schultz's eyes opened wider conveying the importance of what he had just said. "Dr. Schmidt brought with him a wonderful new medicine invented by our German scientists. They gave it to Colonel Hogan to fight the infection because his fever was so high."
"Well, all I can say is it's a good thing for them it hasn't hurt the gov'nor." Newkirk took a long draw off of his cigarette and blew it out forcefully along with his anxiety.
"Heck it's better than that, Wilson said the Colonel's fever is going down!" Carter said excitedly.
"Ja, ja, the Kommandant said Dr. Schmidt was happy."
"Well, as long as somebody's happy." LeBeau folded his arms and rocked back on his heels in disgust
Schultz backed toward the door, preparing to leave before he was discovered fraternizing with the enemy.
"Hey, hey, wait a minute Schultz!" Kinch took a step toward the retreating German. "What happened later with Knefler?"
"Huh? What are you asking me?"
"Come on Schultzie, the Colonel said Schmidt gave him something else later." Newkirk stopped to calm himself and lower his voice
"He did?" Schultz thought. "No, the Kommandant didn't mention that Dr. Schmidt gave Colonel Hogan anything else. But, he did say, Colonel Hogan was delusional. Maybe he just imagined it?"
"Surely…" Newkirk began, his voice raised again.
"Shh!" Kinch waved his hand back and forth in a cutting motion.
Peter stopped, red-faced, straining to keep his voice down. "… even you could see he was drugged."
Scrunching his face, Schultz said, "Drugged? Maybe it was just his fever making him sleepy." Schultz reasoned and then remembered, "But the Kommandant did say Oberst Knefler took Colonel Hogan away after the pictures with Major Hochstetter, and they didn't see him again for five hours"
"Five Hours! Holy cow! No wonder the Colonel's so tired," Carter exclaimed.
"That's not the reason, Carter! The Colonel said they gave him something else," Newkirk answered, exasperated.
"Ja? Maybe you're right, Newkirk. The Kommandant said that Doctor Schmidt told him that Colonel Hogan would sleep off and on until morning." Schultz conceded.
"Maybe?" Newkirk stuttered with frustration. "There's no 'maybe' to it. Colonel Hogan told us what happened." Peter shook his head and began to mutter, "Blimey, I'm surrounded by…"
"Newkirk!" Kinch whispered hoarsely, intervening before Peter put his foot in his mouth. Looking back at the German sergeant he cautioned, "Okay Schultz, thanks! But you'd better get out of here before they see you."
"Ja, sorry I could not find out anything more."
LeBeau, using all of his self-control, patted the big German on his stomach and said, "You did fine, Schultzie, thanks," and then opened the door, shooing him outside.
"Blimey, that was a waste of time. Schultz doesn't know as much as we do." Newkirk turned and paced away.
"Yeah, it appears they're staying pretty closed-lipped on this." Kinch said, as he went to sit at the table.
"Animals!" LeBeau blurted out and headed for the Colonel's door.
Newkirk grabbed him by the arm and turned him around. "'old on! Wha' are you doing, mate? You can't just go barging in there!"
LeBeau began waving his arms and dramatically expounding in French.
Carter stepped closer to Newkirk to help block LeBeau.
"Newkirk's right, Louis. We can't do anything right now, except wait," Kinch reasoned.
"Wait? You expect me to stand here and wait?" Louis took two steps toward the muscular Sergeant.
"No!" Kinch answered. Holding up his mug, he asked, "Got anymore coffee?"
cccccccccc
Schmidt pulled the blanket back up and turned from the American Colonel to face Wilson. "Your Colonel appears to have made a turn for the better. The question now is, do I trust you to keep an eye on him tonight, or do I have him moved to my quarters?"
Wilson remained quiet. He knew he was in a tentative position. Too much self-confidence on his part and the good doctor might move the Colonel just to make a point.
Schmidt rolled down his sleeves. "I could use a good night's sleep." Buttoning his cuff, he continued, "I'll leave the prisoner here."
Klink nodded.
Schmidt turned to Wilson, "Questions?"
Wilson decided that the less said the better. Dr. Schmidt seems to prefer as little interaction with the enemy as possible"No, the morphine you had me give Colonel Hogan should have him sleeping until morning."
Schmidt smirked looking back to where Hogan lay sleeping. "Very well!" he answered. And then turning to Klink said, "Kommandant, I am ready for that nightcap now."
Klink smiled and whipped his swagger stick under his arm. "I have an excellent wine picked out for us."
Schmidt approached the door and stopped. Turning, he looked again at Wilson. "Don't assume I think you're medically competent. Even a dog can be taught a few tricks." Schmidt paused to let the insult register. "And the only trick I want from you tonight is to notify the guard if his fever goes up."
Schmidt turned to leave and Klink, smiling subserviently, opened the door. Schmidt marched out and the Kommandant's smile disappeared. Glancing back, he looked from Hogan to Wilson. No words were exchanged. Klink gave a simple nod of acknowledgement to the medic before turning to leave. As he marched across the common room the grin etched itself back onto the Kommandant's face.
Wilson stopped in the doorway between Hogan's room and the common room. "What a jerk!"
"What happened?" Kinch asked.
"He used me to make the Colonel cooperate. He threatened to have the guard shoot me if the Colonel didn't let me give him some morphine. That, combined with the residual effects of whatever else he had been given earlier, did the job: Colonel Hogan is sleeping soundly." Letting go of some of his anger, Joe continued, "In the long run it's probably a good thing. It means the Colonel won't be going out to meet the plane." Wilson walked to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. "At least he left Colonel Hogan with us."
"That goes without saying," Newkirk piped up.
"Oui," LeBeau agreed, and then scowled as a thought crossed his mind. "Did that pig touch the Colonel?"
"Louis, you can't examine someone without touching them!" Wilson raised his hand to stop LeBeau's ranting. "Schmidt didn't do anything out of the ordinary," Wilson assured. "And since the Colonel was asleep, he had no discomfort,"
Carter looked at Wilson and asked, "What else did he say?"
"Just for me to tell the guard if the Colonel's fever increased. I still strongly suspect that they gave the Colonel captured penicillin. That's why they're watching him. Kinch, you might want to tell London we have a pretty good idea where our missing penicillin went!"
Kinch looked at his watch. "Speaking of London, Carter, keep an eye out the door, it's about time for their broadcast. Come on, Joe. They're going to want to talk to you, too."
cccccccccc
-Ring…ring. Kaltenbrunner, barely awake, reached for the phone. "Umph!" He fumbled with the cord trying to get it to his ear. "I hope this is important!"
"General?" a timid voice asked.
"At this hour in the morning, you had better know who you are calling! Now, who is this?"
"Umm, General,…this is…" The sound of a throat being cleared interrupted the voice. "This is Ernst Brinker."
"Who?"
"Ernst Brinker, the photographer. I took pictures of that American airman for you today…err, I mean yesterday. Or at least I thought I did!"
"YOU THOUGHT YOU DID?" Kaltenbrunner becoming more fully awake, turned on the light and sat up in bed. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning, Brinker"
cccccccccccc
The day's activities had honed Knefler's mind and he was eager to review and dissect his notes in preparation for writing his brief for Kaltenbrunner's team of scientists. He hoped staying in Hammelburg and out of Berlin would offer him fewer interruptions. Sitting in his room, he stretched out on the bed with his notes, ready to begin screening them for contradictions and reexamining every answer meticulously.
Closing his eyes, he began a form of meditation designed to assimilate all the stimuli affecting his patient. He pictured Hogan's wound and the pain that would be associated with it. Next, drawing on his own experience with fever, he added a pounding head and unrelenting thirst. A thirst the Oberst had manipulated by withholding or giving water in amounts too small to satisfy thirst, but large enough to increase the craving for more water. With his mind in tune to the aching of his patient's body, Knefler imagined the psychological effect of feeling the medicine entering the vein. And followed it with the realization, resistance and lastly fear, Hogan would have felt, wondering how the medicine would affect him. Finally, Knefler added in the actual physical action of the medicine on the brain and resulting thought processes. Knefler could now begin to judge whether the American would have the presence of mind to control his answers, or, if he would be sufficiently stressed to allow for involuntarily truthful answers given without reservation.
Ring, ring. Knefler looked up from his notes frowning at the intrusion. He carefully rolled across the bed to reach for the phone, trying not to disturb his organized piles of papers in the process. In a voice not meant to hide his displeasure at being disturbed, he answered, "This is Colonel Knefler to whom am I speaking!" He hoped that it would be a subordinate whom he could quickly dismiss.
"This is General Kaltenbrunner!" The General, recognizing the antagonism in the hello, asked, "Is everything all right, Herr Oberst?"
Knefler slid his feet onto the floor, all thoughts of a speedy exit gone for the moment. "Jawohl, Herr General. I was just going over some work. I apologize for my brisk tone. I wasn't expecting your call." Knefler looked at his watch, 12:30a.m. "What has happened?"
"I just had a call from the photographer, Ernst Brinker. When he opened his camera inside his 'dark room', the film spewed out and ended up in a tray of chemical wash. It was the film he used for Major Hochstetter's pictures and it is unsalvageable. Evidently the film came off the reel inside the camera. Herr Brinker is quite adamant that this has never happened to him before and he cannot account for it happening now!" The General paused. "Unusual events seem to gather around this American Colonel like metal shavings to a magnet. Is there any chance he could be the instigator of this latest fiasco?"
"You tell me, General; we were all in the room with him." Knefler answered.
"I'M ASKING YOU!" Kaltenbrunner shouted. And then in a calmer voice, "Well, what is your answer?"
To deny the possibility of Hogan's involvement would demand that he take on the burden of providing reasons supporting his belief. So instead he said, "I would have to say, yes, it is possible. And I would find such an act encouraging."
Now Knefler would have to use his skills to lead the General back to where he wanted him. And where he wanted him was in full support of proceeding with the program.
"It would indicate to me, that Colonel Hogan was still fighting and therefore still very genuine. If he suddenly became too cooperative, I would suspect his motives." The phone lay quiet against Knefler's ear, as Kaltenbrunner pondered the Oberst's answer.
"Besides, Herr General, we only have the photographer's word for what happened. I think a more likely scenario is that it was Herr Brinker's blunder and he is trying to cover it up," Knefler lied. He knew this would be right in character with the brash American and Knefler was delighted.
Again the other end of the phone was quiet. And then a sigh, "You're right. I am reacting on hearsay. You, as always, are the voice of reason. Which is one reason you are the best at what you do." A short deep laugh and then, "I should have called you before I called General Burkhalter."
"Would you like me to call General Burkhalter and reassure him?" Knefler asked.
"It would probably be a good idea. Before he has Oberst Klink on his way to the Russian Front and Colonel Hogan shipped off to Colditz. Goodnight, Oberst, Heil Hitler!"
"Heil Hitler!" Knefler answered, just before the phone disconnected in his ear. Hanging up the receiver, he broke into a large grin. He lit a cigarette and blowing out the match, laughed. "Ja, Colonel Hogan, you never cease to amaze me! You'll be quite a trophy when you break."