Chapter Five
The men, worry and distraction evident on their faces, sat around a table in the middle of their barracks. Camp had been locked down with all prisoners confined to their quarters, but no one felt like going anywhere anyway. Kinch had earlier radioed one of the local underground units to confirm the railway trestle had blown the night before. Colonel Hogan had obviously made it to the bridge, why hadn't he made it back? Each time a truck was heard entering the compound, a group of POWs raced to the window, their hopes dashed, as they watched the guards pile out empty handed. The last truck had long ago returned, so no attention was paid when a Wehrmacht staff car rolled through the gate and came to a stop in front of the Kommandant's office.
***
Klink stared with amazement at the small satin-lined box that sat open before him atop his desk. He picked up the official military letterhead accompanying the package and reread its contents. Slowly, the look of wonderment on his face was replaced by one of bitter suspicion. Had Hogan known this would happen and planned his escape to coincide, counting on the letter to excuse the abandonment of his men? Klink's eyes narrowed, as he pushed his chair back angrily from the desk and stood up. He crossed to the window and glared out at the compound, failing to notice the staff car now parked outside the building. The nerve of Hogan to do this to him. A sharp knock at the door caused him to wheel about in annoyance.
"Enter," he barked.
The bedraggled appearance of the Wehrmacht officer who entered further piqued his mood. The man looked as though he had slept in his uniform during a rainstorm. His cheeks bore a blond stubble and were streaked with dirt. The leather of his brown boots, darkened from a soaking, creaked as he marched smartly across the floor.
"Hauptmann," Klink acknowledged coolly, nodding his head. He surveyed the officer standing at attention in front of his desk.
The young captain clicked his heels and raised his arm in the gesture Klink despised. "Heil Hitler, Herr Oberst!"
Klink glowered at the young captain and purposely ignored his salute. He made a show of inspecting him from head to foot, expressing his disapproval with a cluck of his tongue.
"Well, Hauptmann, clearly the Wehrmacht does not instruct its officers to follow the same high standards of dress set by the illustrious Luftwaffe," he remarked acidly. The young officer shifted uncomfortably, his arm still thrust self-consciously in the air. He glanced at the colonel and uncertainly lowered his arm to his side. The critical glare he received caused him to immediately snap his arm forward once more, mistaking the scowl as displeasure for his lapse in protocol.
Klink grimaced. "Enough, Hauptmann. Save your strength and explain what is your purpose for gracing my presence here today."
The captain responded, his arm slowly sinking. "My sincere apologies, Herr Oberst, but I unfortunately spent most of last night out in the rain chasing down one of your prisoners."
Klink's eyes lit up. "Aha! Why didn't you say so in the first place, Hauptmann? Where is that scoundrel, hmm? I want him brought in immediately so he may answer to my wrath!" Klink picked up his leather crop and snapped it eagerly against his thigh, as he strode to the door of his office and threw it open. The anteroom was empty.
Puzzled, he looked back at the officer, still at attention. Klink slowly circled back to stand in front of the Wehrmacht officer. "Well, where is he?" he demanded impatiently.
The captain cleared his throat uncertainly. "Herr Kommandant, the prisoner was, uh, killed while trying to escape my custody."
Klink blanched. His legs felt suddenly weak beneath him, and he leaned involuntarily back against the edge of the desk for support.
"What…what are you saying, Hauptmann?" A blank, unbelieving look covered his face.
"Herr Oberst, we found him several kilometers from here while we were on patrol. I believe he may have been responsible for blowing up a nearby railway bridge. He tried to make his escape, but we chased him down."
Klink stared at the floor while listening uncomprehendingly to this account. He slowly raised his head, a stony look on his face.
"Ah, I see, Hauptmann." There was a sudden hard edge to Klink's voice. "He was, I presume, shot in the back?"
Nonplussed, the officer stammered a reply. "Of…of course, not, Herr Oberst. It…it was an accident. He ran from us. I chased him, but just as I caught up with him he lost his footing and fell over the edge of an embankment. It was…very steep…" The captain's voice trailed off.
"But…but, how are you certain it was my prisoner, Hauptmann?" Klink's face registered doubt mixed with a tinge of hope.
Wordlessly, the officer reached into a pouch on his belt and removed a piece of black material along with a pair of American dog tags. He hesitantly held them out. Without removing his eyes from the young officer's face, Klink took the items. The woolen material unfolded into a knit cap, still heavy with dampness. Of greater interest was the metal disk in his palm. His right hand, shaking slightly, turned it over, as he read with dismay the name he dreaded would be there. Klink's shoulders slumped.
"The, uh, prisoner was wearing these when he was captured, Herr Oberst. Fortunately I retrieved them from him before…before he was lost."
The confirmation rang in Klink's ears. Still resting in his palm, the imprint on the tags taunted him. "HOGAN ROBERT E"
"Thank you, Herr Hauptmann, for returning these items." Klink continued to stare at the objects in his hands. "I will make certain your superiors hear of your commendable action."
Klink paused before looking intently at the captain. "Of course, you realize you were mistaken in thinking Colonel Hogan had anything to do with that bridge. I know for a fact he had planned his escape in advance. He was simply unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"As you wish, Herr Kommandant." The younger officer shrugged. It made no difference to him whether the prisoner was involved in something more than just an escape. He had died as a result of his rash actions, and in this case, the end very much justified the means.
He nodded, taking a step back, as he once again raised his arm in salute. It did not pass his notice that the Kommandant failed to return the gesture. Puzzled, he turned smartly on his heels and strode from the office.
Klink, still stunned, slowly turned and picked up the receiver of his telephone. He watched through the window as the vehicle, black as a hearse, turned around in the compound and headed out through the gates.
"Sergeant Schultz…come to my office immediately." Tears fell as the receiver dropped from his hand.
Continued in Chapter Six