Chapter Eighteen

Change of Command

Hogan rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably as he gestured for Townsend to pull up a chair far down in one of the branch tunnels. He glanced up at the oil lamps, randomly thinking that he needed to remind the boys to refill them at the end of the week, and sat on a stool a few feet from the Group Captain, his body and mind both tired and longing for rest. "I wasn't around to greet you properly when you got here," he started, not really sure how to approach the topic. He had had performance reviews before, and he had cared about his work before, but there was something about this command that was different from any other he had ever had, and he always found himself at a loss when asked to explain it. Now, he wasn't sure how to defend it, or the powerful bond he felt to it and the men under his command.

"I quite understand, Colonel," Townsend replied as he took his seat. "You were on a mission when I arrived, and things since then have been, shall we say, a bit dicey. Speaking of that, welcome back, Hogan. To be honest, I wasn't sure you would make it back, and given the condition of your man Newkirk there, it looks like you beat odds that even the touts at Cheltenham wouldn't back."

"We play the odds a lot," Hogan answered briefly. "That seems to be what London does best with us."

Townsend nodded thoughtfully. "It may interest you to know that in certain circles, this operation is thought of as being the most unorthodox one ever fielded. Successful, but unorthodox."

Hogan raised an eyebrow. "So I've been told-many, many times. I didn't think that was a problem, as long as it got the job done. Apparently it raises the hair on the back of some necks at Headquarters."

That comment raised Townsend's eyebrow in response. "It isn't a problem; in fact, there've been a few other types of missions come across the planning table that have been met with the comment, 'Wish we could put Hogan on this one-too bad he's stuck in a prisoner of war camp.' Why, there's even been thought of having you consult on some of those, except, of course, for the chance of a radio message being intercepted."

"Yeah, well, they're the ones who asked me to stay in a prisoner of war camp in the first place," Hogan replied, slightly caustic. Calm, Robert Hogan, you won't help your case any by antagonizing the messenger. In a steady voice, he added, "And I suppose it's up to them to decide when I go."

"I must admit, certain factions in Strategic Operations would like to have you back in England, Colonel. This latest mission of yours certainly adds weight to their arguments."

Hogan nodded, at that moment feeling every one of the blows he had taken in the last week. He closed his eyes, then tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. "I thought it might." He let out a breath and looked directly at Townsend. "Look, I know London has problems with the amount of back-up we need. I make a lot of demands that are out of the ordinary, and we don't give a lot of advance warning. But when we have an opportunity to do something good for our boys-like getting rid of that monster Brinkfried-we don't always have a lot of lead time, and we don't have two chances to do it. We do what we can, when we can, and my men risk their lives to do it. What you saw when you got here was unfortunate, but it was a scenario that we're always prepared for and we always dread, and we do what we can to make the best of it, or cut our losses and run."

Hogan felt lightheaded and was tempted to stop, but he couldn't let this finish without defending his crew. "My men have developed into some of the best sabotage and intelligence operatives Headquarters could ever ask for. They're loyal and they're brave and they're damned good fighting men, and they're true professionals, every one of them. And if the brass wants me back in London…" Hogan paused. Could he really say it? "…then I know they'll follow my replacement with just as much loyalty as it's been my privilege to have from them."

There, it was done. He'd said his piece, and now he could accept whatever he was ordered to do. But the monologue's intensity had drained Hogan, and he raised a hand to his face, hoping to rub away some of the exhaustion before telling his men it was time for him to go.

"I say, Hogan, we had no idea you felt this way." Townsend was stunned by what the American had just said, and it was clear he was trying desperately to come up with something to say in reply. "Your work has been brilliant, and you've managed some amazing things in the short time you've been in operation here." The Group Captain paused, studying the Colonel closely. The man's exhausted, and I don't think it's just from this last mission. It may well be time to let him move on then. "In any case, it's not been forgotten that this is a volunteer assignment, and that you, or any of your men, are free to leave any time you wish.

"If you're ready to return to London, Colonel, we would welcome you back with open arms. However, I must warn you," Townsend paused, not quite sure how to say the rest of it, "it could take us a very long time to find someone to replace you. No one back at Headquarters had any idea you were ready to resign your post here."

Hogan stopped rubbing his face and slowly brought his head up from his hand. "Ready to resign my…?" He looked at Townsend questioningly, and frowned. "Didn't London send you to look over the operation-and-" A pause as he tried to sort things out. "-and replace me with someone who runs things a bit more by the book?"

"Run things by the book? My dear Colonel, you're writing the book on this kind of operation! Frankly, most of us have no idea how you manage to do what you do here, and do it right under Jerry's nose like this." Townsend shook his head. "I've sat in a few times when some of the men you've sent home have been debriefed, and some of their tales are enough to stagger the imagination.

"I have to confess, I didn't believe everything they told us, until now. Having seen your set-up, and having seen your men in action-especially in your absence-makes me believe every word those men have said. Certainly I'm here to look over your operation, but to replace you? After the last two days, I'm convinced there is no replacing you, full stop." Townsend paused as a thought came to him. "Whatever made you think that in the first place, if I may ask?"

Hogan stared, blinking, at Townsend. What the hell was going on? His fingers raked his hair once again. "Why wouldn't I think that?" he asked, amazed. "We ask for a special courier plane, London complains, tells us I cost them too much, and then complains about one of the Krauts we send back because he's not interested in playing nicely. Suddenly we've got a visitor dropping in from England with no explanation. What am I supposed to think?"

Townsend got very quiet. Several seconds' worth of quiet, in fact, as the man's eyes hardened and the muscles of his jaw clenched as he tried to keep his composure. He failed. "Those bleeding sods!" he whispered. "Have they got no idea what damage they can do with the sort of game they're playing at?"

Hogan frowned. "What are you talking about? This was a game?" He felt his blood pressure rising and tried to catch his breath.

The Group Captain blinked as Hogan's words cut into his anger. "I apologize, old man; it seems my manners have slipped." He took a calming breath of his own before speaking again. "This most certainly is not a game. The problem has been that this type of operation is so new, and so unique, that no one is exactly certain how to handle it. Therefore, everything that comes from this post ends up going through several sets of hands in both British and American Intelligence before a decision is made."

Townsend nodded. "I can assure you, Colonel Hogan, that from this point forward, all of that will cease. As soon as I return to London, I'm cleaning house, and I will be personally taking charge of anything and everything that has to do with this operation that doesn't have to go through someone with stars on his collar." The Englishman looked steadily into the American's eyes, meeting the anger there with determination.

Townsend watched as Hogan breathed out his anger, the Colonel's shoulders rising and falling several times before he spoke. "We don't have time for them to second guess us. Lives are at risk with every minute they hesitate." Though some of the anger had receded, there was still a lot in reserve, and Hogan carried it on his sleeve. "I nearly lost one of my men because they were arguing about how to get a Kraut out of here. I nearly lost another one because they decided to send you down here to play I Spy. If you can stop that from happening, Townsend, I might just have one or two men left by the time the war is over."

"You have my word on it, Hogan." Group Captain Townsend stood, and held out his hand. "I'll do whatever it takes to get you and all your men home safely."

Hogan accepted the gesture, his relief almost palpable. "I'll hold you to that, Townsend." He drew the Group Captain into his trusted group by looking him straight in the eye. "When it comes to my men, I'll never let you off the hook."

"I expect nothing less from a man who won't let himself off the hook either." Townsend met Hogan's gaze steadily, then smiled as he sat back down. "Now then, tell me what I've just let myself in for."

Hogan nodded just once, pleased with this man who until just a few minutes ago he was sure was here to take his command. Townsend seemed to genuinely understand how Hogan thought the operation needed to be run, and was willing to do his part to make it easier for him and his men. An ally like this could make his nights a little more restful, and he was grateful for it. "You've aligned yourself with a fine group of men, Townsend," Hogan said. "My crew are some of the finest, most loyal and resourceful people I have ever had the privilege to know."

"A bit on the salty side as well. How do you deal with that sort of thing on a regular basis?"

"Salty?" Hogan repeated.

Townsend nodded. "Routinely insubordinate toward a superior officer, disobedient of direct orders, and with a casual disregard of rank amongst themselves." The Group Captain watched Hogan's face closely as he spoke, waiting for the Colonel's reaction.

Hogan considered the question, and then started a slow, hobbling pace. "Townsend, before I got shot down, I was piloting a B-17. Aside from the rest of the 504th under my command, I had nine men with whom I lived and breathed and fought and prayed. We were a team, a close team, and just like all the others, we were under immense pressure." Hogan paused in his walk as the faces of those men came to the forefront of his mind. "They could be irreverent, and they could be difficult, and they could even be insubordinate. It was a way to release the pressure. But when push came to shove they did exactly as I asked, because they knew I would never order them to do anything without considering them first."

Hogan resumed pacing. "The men I work with here are no different. They put their lives at incredible risk every day. I ask them to do things that no sane man would attempt. Each of my men has his specialty, and he knows and does his job. It's about skills, not about the number of stripes and decorations. It's about teamwork, not about one man standing over another. My men have to feel free to speak their minds to me without worrying about the possible repercussions, because without trust and honesty, a unit like ours is doomed to fail. When they have an issue, they know without a doubt that I'll listen and consider. And when I send them out on a job, I know they'll do their damnedest to look out for each other."

Hogan stopped pacing and looked at Townsend. "Sometimes that means disobeying direct orders-like when I told Newkirk to go back with Carter instead of trailing me-but I never once doubt their respect and their loyalty. And that's the only way a unit like this can survive. I'd rather have a whole team of misfit men who can't distinguish rank or know how to salute-but who would lay down their lives for each other-than I would ever want one perfect, out-of-the-book soldier. My men deserve more accolades than I could ever give them, or that London will ever realize, and I sleep better at night knowing that the men's respect for me and for each other is real, and not simply there because rank requires it."

Hogan sat back down, drained and surprised by his own impassioned defense of his men. And I mean it, damn it. I mean every word.

Townsend's eyes never left Hogan during the American's heartfelt speech. The Englishman not only listened to the words, he also took in the man's body language, something that spoke volumes about how Hogan felt about his command. Impressive. An undeniable charisma combined with complete dedication to both his men and his mission. He's totally unafraid to go to bat for his crew, and a lot of that rests on his conviction that they would do the same for him. And he's right: his men here never gave up on him while he was incarcerated at Stalag 2, and Newkirk put himself in danger to ensure Hogan's safety, even though he could avoided the whole ordeal by simply obeying orders.

This all tallies with what I've read in Hogan's personnel records, and things I've heard said about him by other officers around the planning table. Clever, unorthodox and not afraid to take on a challenge. And even as tired as he is right now, he's willing to stand up to me and defend his men against what I said, which under any other circumstances could have been a listing of actionable charges against them. That's good enough for me.

"I'd rather have that kind of respect as well, Hogan." Townsend's words fell quietly into the silence that had grown between them while he was thinking. "And I wouldn't dream of interfering with the way you run things here. As long as you're honest with me, I'll back you all the way to both Number 10 Downing Street and 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, if necessary."

Hogan offered a wry smile. "That won't be a problem," he answered. "Even though you may live to regret it."

Townsend matched Hogan's expression with one of his own. "If that proves to be the case, old man, would you at least do me the honor of visiting me in the stockade after the war is over?"

Hogan's eyes laughed along with his voice. "I'll even bring you something to help you escape. After all, that's our specialty."

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Hogan shook his head as he picked the kettle up from the stove and grabbed his cup. "I never thought it would feel so good to walk back in through that door," he said. He poured himself a drink, took a swallow, and sighed. "How is it going down with you, Newkirk?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, gov'nor, it felt like... well... coming home, if you take my meaning." Newkirk eased himself onto the bench at the common room table and shook his head. "I never thought I'd hear myself call this ruddy hole 'home.' But after Stalag 2..." He fell silent as he thought of the time they'd both spent there.

"I know." Hogan drifted into the same melancholy. Having just been brought back into camp by his men, who were again dressed as Gestapo agents, Hogan and Newkirk were now able to roam the compound as per normal. And while Hogan was looking forward to the return to routine, he couldn't help but think about the contrast between life here at Stalag 13, and life behind barbed wire at Stalag 2. How much more were those men suffering without someone to protect them from people like Brinkfried? "Hopefully, now that Brinkfried is gone, it will be easier for the prisoners there to join together and help each other to survive till the end of the war."

"I hope so, too. Is there anything else we can do to help those poor blokes? Like, maybe get word round to the Red Cross and see if they'll go inspect the place or something?" Newkirk looked up at Hogan thoughtfully. "And with as many Geneva Convention violations as there were, do you think the Protecting Powers would take a hand as well?"

"I'm way ahead of you," Hogan replied with a nod. "I had Kinch send a message through earlier to organize just that. And our people will get word to the men there not to worry about Bramer and Hawkins, too."

"That's good to hear, sir. Glad you're ahead of me on that, as I haven't been thinking too clearly the last day or so."

Kinch came up out of the tunnel, climbing through the bed frame just in time to hear Newkirk's last comment. "Since when do you ever think clearly anyway, Peter?" The radio man grinned at the Englishman, then turned to his commanding officer. "Just got off the wire with London, Colonel. They're going to arrange a surprise inspection of Stalag 2 by the Red Cross just as soon as they can round up enough personnel to handle it." He glanced back at the tunnel entrance and frowned. "Um, sir? About Group Captain Townsend. I no sooner got finished with my transmission when he came over and demanded to use the radio. Oh, he was polite enough about it, but it was clear that he wasn't just asking. He's down there right now, sending some kind of message in a code I've never heard before, and to judge from the way he's hitting the transmitter key, he's pretty hot under the collar about something. I warned him to keep it short, but I don't think he really heard me."

Hogan nodded, clearly thoughtful. "It's okay, Kinch. Leave him alone. He's got some pretty big complaints to make, and I have a feeling he's going to need some time to air them all. Just monitor the Krauts in the meantime for him."

"He's got complaints to make? But Colonel, what does he have to complain about?" Le Beau appeared from down below, still brushing his hair back after being in German uniform. "He's been nothing but trouble since he arrived."

"Yeah, Colonel-do we want him to complain about us some more?" Carter piped up, coming up from the tunnel. He went to his bunk and happily put on his lined jacket now that he no longer had to play Major Gschwind. "He has enough to say about us."

"What are you lads on about? Has this Townsend been giving you a lot of trouble then?" Newkirk glanced at the other men curiously. "What happened while the Colonel and I were out?"

Kinch sighed, not wanting to give a full answer in front of Hogan. "Let's just say that while we were able to use him once, the rest of the time he kept looking over our shoulders and asking a lot of questions while we were trying to find you guys."

Hogan spoke over the growing discontent. "Now hold on a minute. I've had a talk with our Group Captain Townsend. Some of us were a bit paranoid about his visit, and I'll be the first to admit I was one of them." Hogan's men turned to him questioningly. "But I think you'll find he's actually a good man to have around, and I want you to cooperate with him as much as you goofballs can."

"That must 'ave been some talk there, Colonel." Newkirk shook his head. "You sure he's all right?"

"Let's just leave him to it for awhile."

A slight rattle came from the ladder, and after a moment, Townsend's blond head appeared above the bunk frame. "Beg your pardon, Colonel, but if you have a moment, may I speak with you and your men down below?"