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.

Chapter Ten

Control

Biedenbender flinched when a sudden train whistle pierced his ears. He glanced at his watch as he entered the station. 6:30 a.m.…I'm going to be a little late. They should have already begun the conditioning stage. Hogan should be feeling very cold by now, Biedenbender thought. The aviation testing that Hogan was about to embark on would provide data, based on reactions and duration, of the influence that race and genetic inheritance plays on a man's timely ability to function in high altitudes. Smiling at the idea, he looked around for the driver of the staff car that was to meet him.

"Herr General!" The young soldier stopped abruptly in front of Biedenbender and saluted. "Heil Hitler!" Pausing only long enough to accept the returned salute, he continued, "The car is this way, Herr General."

"Ah danke." Biedenbender glanced at his watch once more and then stepped off, following his escort in a manner that caused his coat to flap partially open about his knees, as he swaggered through the train station. Biedenbender's new responsibilities did not allow him to spend as much time at Hohemark as he would like, but at least he was able to see the first day of mescaline testing and now the beginning of the experiments, designed to study thinking and motor skill function for aviation medicine. Testing designed to gain information to improve the supremacy of the Luftwaffe. I find it quite satisfying that you are contributing to increasing the strength of our illustrious Third Reich by offering your body to science, Colonel Hogan. It's the least you can do after all the destruction and mayhem you rained down on us.

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Biedenbender slipped silently into the soundproof observation room and stepped next to General Burkhalter. "What did I miss?"

Opening his eyes a little wider, Burkhalter gave Biedenbender a surprised, yet expectant, look. "I had just about given up on you," Burkhalter announced, before turning back to the observation window. "Hogan has been sitting in the cold for the last two hours. Two of our scientists have just left to go into the room."

Biedenbender looked into the test room and watched as a shivering Colonel Hogan was chained to the railing. The frustrated American gave his hands a jerk, testing the chains holding them, and then quickly looked toward the door as the two scientists Burkhalter had mentioned entered the room. Hogan visibly tensed.

"It was explained to me that they were going to attach electrodes to Colonel Hogan that would be used to supply electric shock, stimulating himto cooperate," Burkhalter said. "Then they will return here, give verbal instructions for Hogan to carry out, and study the outcomes.

As Biedenbender watched, Hogan ducked in an effort to avoid the electrodes they were trying to attach to his head. This earned the American a strong backhand that apparently dazed him into submission. Or did it? Biedenbender observed that as Hogan sat quietly allowing the electrodes to be attached to his chest and back, his eyes were busily scanning the room. He moved uncomfortably and looked down only when his shorts were momentarily tugged aside to allow placement of electrodes on his groin. What are you looking for, Colonel Hogan? A way out? Are you plotting a foolish escape attempt? Maybe you are looking for answers to what is about to happen? Or perhaps… Biedenbender wondered …you are still haunted by hallucinations from the mescaline and are not even aware of what is going on.

Biedenbender continued watching as Hogan momentarily closed his eyes, shook his head negatively, and heaved with what appeared to be a sigh. When Hogan's eyes were again opened there was a look of resignation. With chattering teeth he again looked down at the leads on his body, before looking up at the second scientist who appeared to be giving instructions. No, you know exactly where you are. Are you finally losing hope, Colonel? Biedenbender announced his observation to Burkhalter."It seems the rigors of scientific research are wearing him down more than the Gestapo interrogations ever did!"

Looking back at Biedenbender, Burkhalter squinted his eyes and smirked, "I suspect his acceptance of his current predicament is due to the cumulative effect of all the abuse he has been subjected to since he was shot down." Burkhalter's face changed to a thoughtful frown, "Frankly, I'm surprised he has lasted this long. I wonder how much more he can take." The General looked back at the American who sat shivering in the cold test room, wearing only a scant pair of thin shorts. Burkhalter's genuine interest in the testing revealed itself in his next statement, "At any rate, we will soon see how Americans function in the freezing cold of high altitude flight."

Biedenbender peered through the glass at the scientist who was apparently giving instructions, while pointing at the faux cockpit of a German plane that Hogan was chained to. The General was surprised to see that Hogan was either commenting or asking a question. What are you saying, Colonel? Biedenbender wondered.

The scientist replied to his subject with a stern face and then pointed at the speaker in the corner of the room before leaving.

"It looks like our American Colonel had a question or two." Biedenbender folded his arms across his chest and looking at Burkhalter, added, "Considering he had just been disciplined with a backhand across the face for offering resistance, I would consider that a bold move." Biedenbender looked at the microphone sitting on the table in front of him. "There must be a way to turn the sound on so we can hear."

"Yes, I've heard he is talkative. He just doesn't say anything we want to hear!" Burkhalter answered.

"Ja," one of the two remaining scientists answered. "Our specimen has definitely not lost his voice. You will be able to hear into the room during the testing. The microphone will be turned on as soon as Doctor Heltz and Doctor Dannenberg return. Please refrain from conversation when Dr. Heltz is giving instructions to our test subject. We will be monitoring the time it takes for the brain to act on the verbal instructions that are given."

The door to the observation booth opened and the two missing scientists entered. "Welcome, you must be General Biedenbender. General Burkhalter has been expecting you." One of the white-coated doctors offered his hand.

"Danke, yes, I'm sorry I was late. The train was delayed for some reason known only to the engineer," Biendenbender explained with sarcasm as he took the offered hand.

"You haven't missed anything, General. I'm afraid up until now it has been rather boring. We've just been waiting for our subject's core temperature to begin cooling down. We want to observe how his thought processes are affected. I will be giving him verbal instructions to carry out. What we won't have is the stimulation of battle to urge him to respond. But the electrodes we have attached to his body will serve to motivate him. We will give him a jolt each time he pauses for more than six seconds with the force of the jolt being increased each time. This way we will simulate the fear of battle and be adding to the physical challenge that stress has on the body." Turning back to the other scientists he asked, "Are we ready to begin?"

Everyone affirmed their readiness and the panel in front of Hogan lit up. Dr. Heltz flicked on the microphone with his thumb and in a monotone voice began his instructions, "Start the engines."

Shortly, the hollow sound of metal clanking together spilled out of the speakers into the control room as Hogan reached toward the instrument panel with his chained arm. The fingers reached a toggle and flipped it to the "Auf" position, setting off a chain reaction inside the observation room as one scientist after another busily scribbled onto the chart he held in front of him. The scribbling continued as their test subject reached for the second toggle and switched it on.

Heltz looked at another one of the scientists who was sitting next to the temperature controls for the room. "You may begin to lower the temperature in the test room. Continue progressively lowering it by five degrees every 3 minutes." The man nodded, turned the dial and entered his note on the paper in front of him.

You're performing well for us, Colonel. Someone should toss you a treat. Biedenbender chuckled to himself.

"Bring your plane into a formation that reaches a height of ten thousand feet. You will have to bank to the right to get your aircraft in line with the others," Heltz instructed into the microphone.

They watched as Hogan scanned the panel, reached out for the throttle, and then apparently froze. Dr. Dannenberg, with his finger poised over a button, glanced between Hogan and the stopwatch he clutched in front of him. Suddenly Dannenberg thrust his finger down, sending a jolt through the wires attached to Hogan's body.

"Ahh!" Hogan gasped as his body stiffened. The sudden release of the button left Hogan panting and panicked.

"Bring your plane into a formation that reaches a height of ten thousand feet. You will have to bank to the right to get your aircraft in line with the others," Heltz repeated the instructions in the same monotone voice. All eyes were on the Allied pilot.

Hogan flexed his hand and once again reached out for the throttle, pulling back gently and maneuvering the controls as if to bank to the right.

Biedenbender watched with appreciation at the steady smoothness with which Hogan controlled the throttle that was artificially vibrating in his hand. You have a gentle touch. Your fingers remain relaxed, caressing the stick, despite the tenseness of your situation. If this were in fact a real plane, you would be sensing your plane's response, as if she were part of you, allowing you to bond with the hum of the engines. I suspected as much. You become the bird you fly. The cocky smirk faded from Biedenbender's face and was briefly replaced with respect. There was an intimacy between man and plane. Biedenbender knew he was right in this assumption. It was the same way he himself flew. He watched as Hogan forced himself to let go of the throttle and imagined the mixed feelings it must have offered the American. I can sense how painful that must have been. It would be like holding a lover who would not or could not respond to your needs. Could not carry you from the Hell you find yourself in.

Hogan appeared to stare at nothing, which served to strengthen Biedenbender's presumptions. The drone of the next instruction pulled Biedenbender's attention back to the scientific study unfolding before him.

"You will prime the bombs and engage them in the bomb bay. Your target is ten miles ahead. When you reach your destination, you will be at twenty thousand feet."

The men watching were surprised to see the fiery eyes of their test subject shoot from the test panel to peer at them through the observation window before again frantically scanning the control board.

Now there was a look of defiance, Biedenbender acquiesced.

Hogan reached for the throttle and pulled back slightly, while still scanning the control panel.

Biedenbender knew he was stalling and apparently so did the scientists conducting this experiment, because Hogan suddenly cried out, squeezing his eyes shut and arching away from the chair. His knuckles whitened as his fingers gripped the throttle, unable to let go. And then, all of a sudden the fire ripping through him stopped, and he sank back onto the hard seat, his muscles visibly contracting erratically. Hogan moaned, panted his breathing down to a slower pace, and attempted to calm himself.

"You will prime the bombs and engage them in the bomb bay. Your target is ten miles ahead. When you reach your destination, you will be at twenty thousand feet."

The scientists intently watched to see if the American would be able to continue. They observed the muscles in their subject's jaw harden as he clenched his chattering teeth, gathered his waning strength, and blinked to clear his vision, before leaning forward and again searching the control panel.

Heltz nodded, apparently surprised, and looked on with renewed interest as Hogan's body shivered in an attempt to generate some heat to keep going. Perspiration visibly shown on Hogan's forehead. "He has determination…this American." Though the first half of the sentence was said with some admiration, the last half was spat out with disgust.

Biedenbender understood Heltz's mixed feelings. The tenacity possessed by this man was high on the scale of desired outcomes…for Luftwaffe personnel. It was an end goal that eventually all Germans would have this kind of determination bred into them. The fact that this American seemed to be naturally registering high in this attribute was not well received…unless…

"Do we have a background heritage check on our subject?" Heltz asked, into the room of scientists. Silence was his answer, and his face reddened. "I want one run!"

The American reached out for the switch resting underneath a small picture of a bomb, and with a hand trembling violently from the increasing coldness of the room, determinedly fought to throw it. As the switch snapped into position, the body connected to the arm recoiled with tension, waiting for another zap of electricity to charge out of the strategically placed electrodes.

The sounds of pens excitedly scratching on paper played around the small cubicle, before they paused and waited for the completion of the actions needed to carry out the last order. After a few seconds pause, their test subject grimaced against the pain of his freezing skin and forced his shaking arms and body to jockey the "plane" up to the required altitude.

There was brief hesitation before the pens again began to write, as each scientist chose his words carefully. These results would be seen by men of authority. Men who expected to see German Supremacy upheld and who had the power to act against those who wrote erroneous results.

Biedenbender observed the tension in the room in the quietness of its occupants. He decided to take this opportunity to perhaps temper the physical information being gathered by taking advantage of the obviously taxed mental state of their prisoner.

"Dr. Heltz, may I ask a question of our subject? In his confusion we may be able to get some answers that he has been withholding from us." Biedenbender was counting on Heltz's willingness to grasp at anything that might show some weakness in their specimen.

Heltz looked at Biedenbender for a moment before extending the microphone to him. "Certainly General, but be brief."

Biedenbender nodded, and drew the microphone to his lips. "Why was your squadron out during the day?"

Biedenbender was surprised to see the trembling, bewildered, American Colonel look up at the observation room. You look, but you don't see. Do you hear? Biedenbender repeated his question, "Why was your squadron out during the day, Hogan?"

Hogan's eyes reacted this time. Biedenbender knew the man chained to the rail between them understood the question. But still there was no answer. Don't you fear the current that could again course through your body? Biedenbender only waited a heartbeat before adding another question to Hogan's confusion. "How long will the daylight campaign last?"

Hogan shook his head no, and using his free hand worked to free his other, half frozen hand, from the throttle. His body trembled violently in the cold and his eyes watered, blurring his vision.

Heltz took back the microphone and hurried to throw out the next order while their subject was showing signs of being cognizant. "You will hone in on your target and release your load of bombs."

The reality of pain, associated with lack of action, had resulted in learned conditioning. It was a proven formula and taught most expertly. Hogan hearing the instructions struggled to act. He grabbed onto the throttle, jerking it back and forth as his body convulsed in the cold.

Heltz began to relax as he announced, "He is losing control of his body. He is no longer able to respond." But as these words escaped Heltz's mouth, a still-determined American Colonel took his last bit of strength and moved his other hand again to the controls.

The scientists, hardly believing what they were seeing, all stared at the man who was bent on not giving up.

Their victim's fingers quivered as they rested on a panel of lights and switches, the message being sent from the brain ordering them to move, unable to force the freezing muscles to respond. Hogan's breathing became fast and shallow, his hand fell from the controls, and his head dropped down on his chest.

The button releasing the torment on their test subject was again pressed. Hogan was briefly jolted back to consciousness and cried out in agony. Lifted off of his seat by the force of the electricity pumping through him, his muscles stopped their shivering and began to seize erratically, and the blueness of his skin deepened. Ten seconds later it was over. The current snapped off and Hogan's eyes closed, consciousness already gone. With his muscles still quivering, his body hung from the shackles attached to his wrists.

Stunned, Biedenbender swallowed, still staring at the man in the next room.

Burkhalter's voice broke his trance. "Hmm, interesting."

Clearing his throat Biedenbender answered, "Agreed." The final spectacle was more than even he had anticipated

There was movement and noise around the two Generals as the scientists in the room shoved their chairs back, causing them to squeak in protest. They looked at each other with relieved smiles. The American did not make it to the end of the test. At least that was something good to report.

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