Chapter Two
Playing the Game
"You are Papa Bear?" The question was asked from the shadowed corner opposite the door and was followed with a click as a pistol was cocked.
"It is chilly tonight." Hogan answered with his code phrase. The cocking of the gun had not eluded him, and he stiffened as he intently tried to see into the shadow.
"It is to be expected this time of year. Do you have far to go?" came the reply.
"No. I'm on my way home," Hogan finished, wishing it were true.
The man stepped out of the shadows as he released and carefully lowered the hammer on his pistol.
Hogan exhaled, relaxing only slightly.
"Good," the contact answered, as he opened his coat tucking his gun inside. He then pulled out an envelope. "Here, take this; it needs to get to someone who can act on it quickly." Looking nervously at the door he added, "I'm being followed."
Hogan took the offered envelope. "Great. I was afraid of that. Who's after you?" Hogan glanced at the door. "And could they be close enough to have seen you come in here?"
"The Gestapo…" the man began.
"Of course they are!" Hogan shook his head nervously, and flexed his hand around his pistol's grip.
"I'm still ahead of them. But you must get going before they catch up."
"I'm all for that." Hogan moved to the window and looked out. "Who are you and what do I have?"
"London didn't tell you?"
Hogan looked back at his contact. "I think the fact that the Gestapo is on your tail may have made them a little skittish. They didn't want us to have any information that could be coaxed from us if we got caught," Hogan answered.
"Us?" The man questioned, suddenly feeling outnumbered, even if this truly was "Papa Bear."
"My men are outside; they'll let us know if we have company," Hogan assured.
"That makes sense," The man said thoughtfully, edging toward the door.
"I'm glad you approve." Hogan snapped, his own apprehension showing itself. "Now, do you mind telling me who you are?"
"You're not out of this yet, so I think I'll keep my identity to myself, just as you do yours 'Papa Bear'. Just call me Iceman. But as for what you're carrying—you need to know; time is short for getting this to your people in London."
Hogan tried to look the man over, but it was hard to see in the dark. He appeared to be dressed in a suit, trench coat, watch, and hat. Nothing to identify him from hundreds of other men, except that he was in a shack next to a railroad track deep in the woods, where no one should be at this time of night.
"I have just handed you attack plans on Reykjavik, Iceland," Hogan's contact revealed.
The answer was a surprise. Hogan suspected tank or troop movements, air attacks, or factory locations. Reykjavik He filtered the name through his memory, rolling it around in his mind until it fell into place, and its importance registered. "So, the Nazi's want their weather station back, do they?"
The stranger nodded. "The attack is set and they'll be launching in four days." Then, pulling his hat down in front to shade his face, the man headed for the door.
Secluded shack, trench coat, hat pulled down in front, if I wasn't sweating the arrival of the Gestapo this whole thing would almost be laughable, Hogan mused. The entire scene seemed surreal. Hogan blinked and shook his head in irony. It reminds me of the "Thin Man" movies I use to take my dates to see. He had always found the cloak and dagger antics that took place in those movies amusing. Now, however, he wasn't laughing.
Turning, Iceman tugged the brim of his hat, saying, "It's time to go, we've been here too long. Good luck to you."
Hogan nodded, "I'll get this to London."
"I hope it is that easy," the other man answered as he slipped out the door.
We do it all the time. Why shouldn't it be easy? Hogan thought, as he stared at the closed door, listening. No voices, no gunshots, so far so good. Hogan checked the clip in his gun. He did say the Gestapo was behind him, didn't he? --I hope it's that easy too! Walking to the door he stuffedthe envelope under his shirt, and melted back into the night.
Four pairs of eyes watched as the stranger left the shack. Kinch tried to visually examine the man leaving. He looked for blood on the unknown contact's hands or clothing, a difficult task even with a full moon, and an impossible task tonight at this distance, so they waited. One heartbeat, two heartbeats, three heartbeats later, a second man exited and Kinch, who had been holding his breath, exhaled. Shaking his head with relief, he quickly laid his hand on Newkirk's shoulder. It was the signal to stand down and Newkirk lowered his pistol as the stranger entered the woods. Hogan joined his men as Carter and LeBeau rejoined Newkirk and Kinch.
Placing his hand over his chest, Hogan indicated he had the parcel and gave the signal to return to camp.
Not far away, Hochstetter and his men were moving in on the shack that Hogan and Iceman had just vacated. Approaching from the opposite direction, the Gestapo Major motioned for three of his men to move in.
Five minutes into the heroes' return trip, machine gun fire sent them crashing to the forest floor. Voices could be heard in the distance. It took only a few seconds for the fivesome to realize the guns were not aimed at them, at least not yet. Hogan had barely given the hand sign to move, before they were all back on their feet double-timing it home.
The men who had stormed the cabin motioned Hochstetter forward. "It is vacant, Herr Major."
Hochstetter clicked on his flashlight. His men watched as Hochstetter methodically paced the four corners of the building, stopping twice to bend and examine the muddy footprints he discovered. "There's two of them now! Look around outside. I want to know if they're traveling together or separately!"
"Jawohl!" the three soldiers answered in unison.
Hochstetter took one more trip around the inside of the building, making sure he hadn't missed anything and then followed the others out. He had no more exited when he was immediately summoned. "Major Hochstetter, over here we have found tracks where one person went off in that direction."
"So they've separated! It must have been a hand-off." Hochstetter said looking off in the direction the trail led. He turned and scanned the woods behind him. "But which one has the documents?"
Hochstetter paced away staring at the ground, "And in what direction did the other…man…woman…go?" Shinning his light around the clearing, he scanned the brush ahead of him, but saw nothing. Hmm, I wonder... He looked overhead at the stars to get his bearings. Walking over the tracks to the woods he searched the ground in the direction of Stalag 13. I almost hope I don't find anything here, Hochstetter admitted to himself. General Burkhalter just about has me convinced of my own paranoia where Colonel Hogan is concerned…what's this? Bending closer he looked, and then he stood up and took two steps away. I will not jump to conclusions. He turned half way back around and shined his flashlight over the depressions in the wet earth. I'm seeing what I want to see…there is nothing there.
"Herr Major…Major Hochstetter…" Lieutenant Dresdner puzzled over his commanding officer's behavior and cautiously approached, "Did you find something, Herr Major?"
Hochstetter rubbed his chin, and looked at the Lieutenant with almost pleading eyes. "Do you see anything there?" Hochstetter indicated the area lit by his flashlight.
The Lieutenant looked questioningly at his superior officer and walked closer to the area indicated. Bending low he traced the ground with his gloved hand. Dresdner glanced up through the light at Hochstetter. "It looks like at least three…" The Lieutenant looked back down, "No…four…maybe more."
A slow smile spread across Hochstetter's face followed by an ironic laugh.
"Major?" Standing, Dresdner looked questioningly at Hochstetter.
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The five POWs' hearts were pounding in their chests as they entered the tunnel one by one from the woods just outside of Stalag 13. Panting and sweating, they looked around at one another checking to see that everyone was in one piece and when they had assured themselves all was well, laughter broke out.
Louis making a self satisfied face, patted Newkirk's chest, saying, "See, I told you there was nothing to worry about!"
"I never said there was!" The nervous chatter that had been going on stopped dead.
"What? —" Newkirk looked around at all the faces staring back at him.
"How was it?" Baker asked, stretching, as he stepped out of the radio room and into the conversation.
"A walk in the park," LeBeau answered.
Baker looked questioningly at the others as they started their moaning again.
"Don't tell me you're going to let a little machine gun fire ruin the mission for you!" LeBeau continued.
"Machine gun fire?" Baker's voice trailed off as he was interrupted.
"I suppose you're going to tell me you weren't lying in the dirt next to me, when that spray hit the woods," Newkirk questioned LeBeau.
Carter reaching up and scratching his neck, admitted, "I sure was! I think I heard a bullet rip through the branches over the top of my head."
"Is somebody going to tell me what happened?" Baker looked around at the group, his eyes stopping on Kinch.
Kinch looked at Hogan, "Gestapo, Colonel?"
Hogan nodded. "Our contact said they were on his tail."
"He should have said they were in his back pocket!" Kinch said, wiping the sweat from his face.
"Who's on lookout up stairs?" Hogan asked Baker.
Baker, shaking the mental picture of his friends dodging bullets out of his head, looked at his watch and answered, "Dollen."
Hogan nodded, satisfied with the answer.
"Hey, Colonel, can you tell us now, what we risked our lives for?" Carter asked.
Hogan pulled out the envelope and held it up. "These, gentlemen, are attack plans."
"Attack plans on what, Colonel?" Kinch asked, slipping out of his black pants and into his fatigues.
"Reykjavik," Hogan answered.
Pulling off his black wool sweater, Carter asked, "Ryk—what, Colonel?" His questioning face soon gave way to one of relief as he enthusiastically began scratching at his red itching skin.
"Sheesh, Andrew, you look like a dog with fleas!" Newkirk observed.
"Can I help it if I'm allergic to wool?"
"Carter, why don't you wear a shirt under that sweater?" Kinch asked.
"Too confining!" Carter answered, contorting to try and reach the middle of his back.
LeBeau couldn't stand watching Carter itch any longer, and went to scratch the elusive spot while chiding, "Oui, he'd rather itch!"
Hogan turned, hiding his amusement and answered, "Reykjavik, Iceland."
Walking past Kinch, he went to the table where they kept their rolled maps and dug out the one he was looking for. He unrolled it and stretched it out on the table, then pulled his gun from his belt to lay it on one side, as he leaned on the other.
His men, in various stages of disrobing, wandered over and joined him.
"There it is, Carter," LeBeau pointed.
"Well, what's the big deal about that?" Carter asked.
"Location; see where it lies, Andrew," Newkirk asked
"Yeah…so?"
Hogan reached out and traced a line with his finger. "Between the eastern tip of Northern Canada and the western coast of Scotland is where most European weather originates. It's a big advantage in laying out your battle plans to be able to predict the weather, and the Germans plan to attack in four days to take it back," Hogan answered. "Kinch, go ahead and get London on the radio and…"
"Wait!"Collins ran in panting, "Dollen sent me to tell you, the Gestapo are here and they have what we think might be a radio detection truck."
Hogan took off for the barracks tearing his sweater off and grabbing his shirt from the rack as he passed. He leapt for the ladder, entered the barracks, and headed for the door.
Dollen stepped aside. "Hochstetter went straight to Klink's quarters, Colonel,"
"Is it just Hochstetter and the radio detection truck?" Hogan asked.
"And the two goons he brought with him, sir."
"What is it, Colonel?" Kinch asked, joining Hogan and leaning to see out the crack in the door.
The rest of the men in the barracks were starting to roll out of their bunks to see what the commotion was about.
Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter came up from below in their long johns ready to assume the role of just awakened prisoner.
"It looks like… hold it, here comes Klink," Hogan answered.
Hochstetter was bellowing along with Klink and after a few minutes of heated conversation between the two, Klink turned and called, "Schuuultz!"
The murmuring that had been going on inside of Barrack Two stopped, as Hogan held up his hand for silence.
Klink, his coat open and still shoving his shirttail into his pants, began shouting orders. "Get those spot lights turned around. Shine them into the woods! Schnell!"
The lights began spinning about. The compound darkened. And the surrounding woods lit up.
"Wow," Kinch whispered.
"That didn't take long!" Hogan observed with a grimace.
"What?" Newkirk asked, as he headed for a window. Letting out a low whistle, he gasped, "It looks like a bleeding ant hill!"
"How many SS do you think are out there, Mon Colonel?" LeBeau asked, looking up from where he was crouched below Hogan at the door.
"It looks like there could be a hundred and that's just between the fence and the woods." Hogan answered.
"Here comes, Schultz," Carter said, standing at the window next to Newkirk. "What's he doing?"
"He's trying to keep his pants up! Oh, blimey, now there's something I don't want to see," Newkirk remarked. "Come on Schultzie get that belt fastened!"
The other men of Barracks Two vied for a spot to see the action taking place outside. As the commotion increased the sirens started up, signaling an escape. The kennel was then opened, spilling the dogs out into the compound.
"I'd better get out there," Hogan decided, as he pulled on the door. Meeting resistance he looked to see Kinch's hand holding it shut. "What are…"
"Uh, Colonel, hadn't you better finish changing first?"
"Huh?" Hogan looked down. "Oh—yeah. Can't go out there like this," Hogan answered, slightly embarrassed at being caught off guard.
Kinch handed Hogan the rest of his uniform.
"Thanks, Kinch." Kicking off his muddy boots he quickly removed his black pants and handed them to Kinch before pulling on his brown uniform pants. "Get those below," he said, pointing at the pants and boots he had just discarded. Slipping into his customary brown shoes, he continued, "And somebody get my muddy tracks wiped up. If they inspect the barracks I don't want to lead them straight to the tunnel."
"Right, sir"s and "Yes, sir"s, were murmured, as the men collectively set about making it look like the only thing going on in Barracks Two, was prisoners sleeping.
Hogan, taking one last quick look at the cleanup being done, headed out the door.
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