For we know we shall find
Our own peace of mind
For we have been promised a land of our own
Colonel Robert Hogan stood at the window of his quarters looking out in the predawn light. Hogan watched the stars fade as the sky brightened beyond the barb wire fence once again. His face was still bruised, remnants of having it restored to his proper features without the benefit of a couple of weeks in a healing sleep. It looked worse that it felt but it established the cover of his extended stay with Oberst Norbert and the SS. It also meant he got to return to his men that much sooner.
Sleep had once again proven illusive in the wee hours before daylight. Flashes of the dogfight over Hamberg and of the Allied plane he shot down disturbed his dreams. He'd gotten the names of the fateful crew from London – had memorized the list, going over it in his mind until it was as easy to recall as the crew of Goldilocks or the men in Barracks 2. He'd said a prayer for all of them, one at a time, knowing it wouldn't ease his guilt but feeling the need to do something for them. He had thought of writing to the families, but there wasn't much to say. He had never met the men or served with them, only helped them die far away from home.
Hogan hated to admit it, but he had missed the place. Not the lice, the rats, and all the other touches that made Stalag 13 a hellhole to live in, but the camaraderie of the men, the Operation, the banter with Schultz and even the verbal sparring and bargaining with Klink – things that allowed him to be his normal self. These stresses he could deal with, had become comfortable with handling over the years of his imprisonment. The stress of being undercover, alone, with the threat of discovery hanging over his head, had left him appreciating the security of the team he normally operated with.
After meeting up with the boys and returning to the tunnels, Kinch had got the package off to London and Hogan used the radio to arrange a pick up in Hammelburg from Norbert's contact. He had been whisked away by Norbert's driver to the hospital in Stuttgart again, being transformed back into black haired American POW. Not once did the SS Oberst make an appearance, leaving Hogan with more questions than answers about the man. A couple of days after his surgery, Hogan was handcuffed and returned to Stalag 13 in a covered truck, surrounded by SS guards, and dumped into the compound.
By then, Kinch had gotten word from London that the plans Hogan stole were invaluable and that the Allied engineers were drooling over the schematics. Hogan had a long radio conversation with London, who had denied any knowledge of the mission and could discover no information about Norbert. Hogan had tried to take the blame for the loss of the B-17 and her crew, but London had adamantly refused to put a black mark on his record, noting a commendation instead. They also scheduled another set of bombers to take out the secret air field near Coburg after Hogan provided the coordinates.
Hogan had barely got off the radio with London when another coded message was received from an unknown location: "Hitler believes strength of land forces will provide victory. Berlin scrapping planes as unnecessary and unreliable.Von Richter awarded medal for valiant flying posthumously. N."
It was the last tag to Norbert's message that didn't sit well with Hogan's conscience. He had earned a Distinguished Flying Cross from his own Air Corps. The fact that he had technically now earned a similar medal from the Luftwaffe made him want to throw up. He sighed as he continued to contemplate the compound outside his window.
Late winter had pushed into spring while he'd been away playing 'Hero of the Fatherland'. Flowers could be seen blooming along the forest edge through the barbed wire fencing, the land awakening and nature refreshing the countryside. Hogan felt reborn too, coming back to his role as Papa Bear after his service in the Luftwaffe and regaining his physical identity.
As each star winked out in the growing daylight, Hogan gave each one a name from the bomber crew and thanked them for their sacrifice. As he put them to rest in his own mind, peace settled in his soul. Rule #1 of war is that men die. Rule #2 is that no matter how hard they try, even Colonels can't change Rule #1.
As the sun silently broke over the horizon, Hogan could hear the guards starting their rounds. Soon the call of "Raus! Raus!" from Schulz could be heard in the outer room, snapping him out of his reverie. Hogan felt the mantle of command wrap itself gently around his shoulders as he turned away from the window. With a smile on his face, he went out to face another day behind the wire of Stalag 13, for once not minding the place very much at all.