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Chapter Three

The Celebration

Biedenbender jumped victoriously from the wing of his plane, into the gathering mob. A drink was thrust into his hand, "To our triumphant Kommodore!" a voice yelled as the crowd hoisted him up onto the shoulders of two of his men, who then paraded their victorious leader around the airfield singing their songs of triumph. Biedenbender joined in the singing, waving his arms, proclaiming the greatness of Germany. And it felt good.

The news of Colonel Hogan's defeat at the hands of Oberst Biedenbender was quickly making the rounds of the German upper echelon. Among the first to be informed was the Reichsluftfahrtministerium. The Luftwaffe Air Ministry was situated in Berlin and it wasn't long before all the high-ranking officer's of the German army were joining in the celebration. Reichminister Hermann Goering was at the center of the congratulations, not only in the giving, but also in the receiving. The Fuhrer was pleased.

"Good night, Heinrich! Or should I say, good morning? What a day! When did you say they wanted us in Berlin?" Rolf looked a little worse for wear. He had joined body and soul in the celebration. A celebration that seemed to grow with each congratulatory phone call received. The entire Stabsschwarm was being honored, but it was Biedenbender who had commanded the attack and had laid out the tactics. He would benefit most from its success.

"Friday, the day after tomorrow. You have just about enough time to sleep that off!" Biedenbender laughed and then turned to place his watch and ring on the table next to his cot. He was tired, in a good way. A lot of tension had been relieved for him today, but now his thoughts went back to the American flyer.

"You look troubled, Heinrich. You should not have a care in the world right now. You are a hero to the Fatherland!" Rolf threw his hands up in an all-encompassing gesture before bringing them down and asking, "What is it?"

Biedenbender gave a quick smirk. "You know me too well. I'm just wondering if Commander Hogan is still alive out there…somewhere. I've called and checked. We have captured three of the nine that parachuted from the Allied plane, but Colonel Hogan was not among them. The Fuhrer said he wanted him brought down regardless, but alive would be icing on the cake!" Biedenbender ran his hand across the stubble that had appeared on his normally clean-shaven chin. Rolf was right. It had been a long day.

Rolf nodded, the smile fading from his face. "So what time are we going out tomorrow to look for him?"

Biedenbender turned abruptly and looked into his friend's knowing face. Smiling, he shook his head as he realized there was nothing he could keep from Rolf. "I plan to get a couple hours of sleep, shower, grab something to eat and head out. He has to be west of Hamburg. Dead or alive he's somewhere between Hamburg, Bremerhaven, and Bremen." Biedenbender looked at the floor. "I have to know." He paused. "I have to see his face. I know everything about this man, from where he was born to his favorite pub in London, but I don't have a face to put with it." He looked back at Rolf. "I have to see his face!"

Rolf nodded. "I'll see you at breakfast."

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"There's another group up there on the right," Rolf announced. In between checking the pick-up points for downed flyers, the two had done some searching on their own with no luck. This was the sixth group of prisoners they had run across this morning. They rolled to a stop behind the truck.

Biedenbender strolled up to the German soldiers, while looking over at their four prisoners. "I'm looking for a particular American flyer that was shot down yesterday afternoon." Biedenbender watched as two of the prisoners pulled a third up from where he laid on the ground.

"Ugghh, mmm…"

The German Oberst listened as the third prisoner groaned with the move before going limp. Turning back to the soldiers, he continued, "I'm checking their name tags. Are they still wearing them?" Biedenbender asked, aware that occasionally the German soldiers removed the tags as souvenirs, even though this was not sanctioned.

"Jawohl, Herr Oberst!" one of the guards answered, as he glanced quickly at his comrades and hoped he was speaking for them all.

Biedenbender turned toward the prisoners standing next to the truck, "Halt! Take your dog tags out of your shirts." The two Allied soldiers on either side of the wounded man, struggled to comply, using one hand, while trying to support the American officer they held between them. Biedenbender, seeing the eagles on the injured man's uniform, went straight to the American officer and dug the tags out of his shirt. Resting them against his left palm, he flipped them over with his thumb. There it was, the name that had stared back at him from all of those reports. He glanced quickly at Rolf and smiling, said nothing.

Rolf read the expression and stepped over to join Heinrich. He looked at the bloodied tag and placed his hand on Heinrich's shoulder. "Congratulations, he's still alive." And then looking a little closer at the now, quiet, unmoving man, asked, "Or is he?"

Biedenbender pressed his fingers into Hogan's neck feeling for a pulse and his smile disappeared. "It's there…barely." Sliding his hand around to Hogan's chin, he slowly raised Hogan's head to look at the face of his enemy for the first time. Funny, Biedenbender thought, in all the information that had been passed on to me, there were no pictures. Maybe that was by design. It's easier to keep everything abstract when you don't see the face. And… there are fewer ghosts to deal with later.

At last there was identity to put with the name. Biedenbender studied the man that had eluded him in the skies over Germany these past months. His face was dirtied with the soot of battle and dried blood was caked on the right side from a wound at the hairline. "So at last we meet, Colonel Hogan. I've imagined this moment countless times."

"Heinrich," Rolf was looking at Hogan's blood-soaked shirt, "he may not survive being transported by truck. If you really want him alive for the Fuhrer, we better take him to Hohemark ourselves."

Biedenbender raised Hogan's shirt only to see the makeshift bandage made from a parachute. Well, Colonel, you obviously had presence of mind enough to know you couldn't survive with an open wound. He reached and pulled the bandage forward to have a look. Hogan, without regaining consciousness, immediately moaned in agony and tried to double over. It must have taken quiet a bit of determination to fight your pain and get those bandages on. I wonder how many times you passed out doing it!

"Put your officer in the back of my car!" Biedenbender ordered, switching to English. The two prisoners looked at each other and then at the German Oberst, but did not move.

"Unless you want to be responsible for this man's death, I suggest you hurry."

The taller of the two prisoners nodded to the other. "This Colonel, whoever he is, has nothing to lose! Let's do as he says."

Biedenbender, before turning to leave, saluted the German soldiers and ordered, "Carry on!"

"Oberst," the soldier that had found Hogan stepped forward and offered the gun and knife that he had taken from his prisoner. "These belonged to him."

Taking them Biedenbender turned the Colt 1911 pistol over in his hand and answered, "Danke." He then quickly turned his back on the young soldier, before smiling at the trophy he had just been handed.