Around midday of the next day, General Butler arrived at the underground complex, which was used by British and US military police as well as their respective Intelligence units. Knowing his way around, the general headed to the office of the chief warden, a British army captain called Felton. Once he reached the office, Butler directly told Felton he wished to see Colonel Hogan. Felton then gave a sign for the general to follow him. He went with him to the infirmary, where some of the beds in the main room were occupied. But only one was separated from the others by the use of folding screens. Felton told Butler that Hogan is the one lying there and since he was still in need of oxygen and under the tent, he was kept separate; to shield him from prying eyes and to protect him.

Thanking Felton for the information, Butler moved behind the screens and stood right beside the bed, looking down on the person occupying it. The man lying on the bed was a far cry from the man that the General knew. Robert Hogan was very pale under his usual deep tan, dark circles were around his eyes and heavy bruising covered the left side of his handsome face. He looked like he was on death's door. He also looked very vulnerable and helpless; attributes that normally would not be attested to him. Butler shook his head, as he also thought that Robert seemed so innocent and childlike while asleep; when in truth this rascal was full of mischief. He started to remembrance; he knew Robert Hogan since he came to England in early 1940, as a neutral observer for the US. But he didn't stay neutral for long. As he saw with his own eyes how bad the war was going for England and that they needed help desperately, Hogan had asked for a temporary transfer to the RAF, which had been granted, albeit reluctantly by the USAAF. And the young, ambitious officer had proven himself multiple times over, becoming the flying ace of the Allies, which he was now known for. He had flown Hurricanes, Spitfires and even a Lancaster heavy bomber, before he started training the RAF flyboys on how to fly an American Boeing B-17 bomber; a plane he knew like the back of his hand.

And since he had transferred back to the USAAF in early 1942, he flew bombing raids over occupied Europe in a B-17. As he was this exceptionally good at leading his men, Hogan got promoted again to full Colonel and got the command of the 504th bomb group, which he turned into the most successful of them all; with minimal losses. And only after this outstanding command pilot was shot down in a vicious dog fight over Hamburg in June of '42, did he finally end up in this small Luft-Stalag outside of Hammelburg in North-West-Germany; the place from which he started his secret operation of rescuing downed fliers and doing some espionage and sabotage on the side; all with the full approval from London.

Butler shook his head, remembering all the times he had those short meetings with Hogan, regarding another nearly impossible mission for the colonel and his men. It was always a risky undertaking to get the colonel from Germany to London and back again, but Hogan never complained; he only delivered. General Butler took a seat on a chair standing beside the bed and after a moment's hesitation, pushed his hand through the opening in the tent and took Hogan's hand into his own, squeezing it. Feeling how cold and clammy it was, Butler knew that the situation was indeed critical for his protégé. With teary eyes he said softly, "Robert, it's me; Albert Butler. The nice old Brit you liked to call 'Pop', as I reminded you of your grandfather. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that whatever might happen now, I will make damn sure that you will be treated right and according to your high rank. Those in High Command must be crackers, wanting to court martial you. But sadly we can't stop them from doing so as you are only on loan to us."

Stopping a moment, to take another deep calming breath, Butler continued, "I want you to fight this, son. You have to get better for all our sakes, as I am sure your men will be sick with worry about you. As soon as I take my leave here, I will visit your men and let them know, how you are doing, Robert. So I beg you, fight this damn illness with all you have. Show them all how stubborn you are and that nothing can keep a good man down. I will leave you to your rest now, Robert, but I will come by again tomorrow. Get well, son." Squeezing Hogan's hand one last time; Butler got up and left the infirmary, assured that his protégé was in good hands. Letting Felton know, he would be back tomorrow, the general finally exited the underground complex and made his way to the airbase to visit with Robert's men, just like he promised.

The airbase was near a small town called Horham and it was the home to the 47th and the 95th bomb groups; both using B-17 Flying Fortresses for their missions. It was a place at which Colonel Hogan would feel immediately at home in, surrounded by the planes he loved so much. But it was not to be, at least for now. Now General Butler was driving there to inform Hogan's men about what was going on with their commanding officer. It was a meeting he dreaded, as the General knew how much the men cared about Hogan and him in turn about them.

After a slow two-hour drive, the jeep entered the airbase area and parked right in front of the building designated as "NCOs Barracks 10". Butler stepped out of the jeep, ordered the young corporal to wait for his return and went inside. As he knew his way around the base, he found the right room in no time.

The door was open and Hogan's men and two other men, he couldn't identify, were sitting around a long table, playing a round of gin, having a great time. Butler knocked on the door frame and the game and friendly chatter stopped momentarily as all eyes turned to the open door.

General Butler introduced himself for the benefit of the two unknown men and turned his attention to Hogan's team, Newkirk, Carter, LeBeau and Baker. Newkirk asked directly, "How is the Gov'ner doing, Sir? And what the hell are they doing to him?"

Holding a hand up to hold off any more questions, Butler answered, "He will be facing a court martial. Some of the men in High Command, who are so stuck up on regulations, found out about some of the colonel's more liberal interpretation of the rules and of course, they called it insubordination of the highest order. Hence - the court martial...But there is something else you should know about. Colonel Hogan is ill and was taken to the infirmary yesterday. Obviously he's got a bad head cold or as the doctor's fear, pneumonia; which can turn deadly. For now he is holding his own and I will visit him again tomorrow. Is there anything any of you want me to tell the Colonel; a personal message perhaps?"

All of the men started to speak at once, even the two Germans. So Butler held up his hand, "Please, gentlemen; one at a time, so I can understand you."

Quieting down, the men looked at one another and shoved Klink forward, letting him know, he should be the first to give his message for the Colonel. Clearing his throat and a bit unsure how to go about this, Klink then said to the general, "Wouldn't it be easier if we all write down our personal messages to Colonel Hogan and you can read them to him when you visit him again, general?"

Butler nodded in approval, "That is indeed a very good idea, old chap. I'll get you some writing paper and pens and you can go ahead. Just please, don't make those messages too long. Make them short and to the point. – I'll be right back."

Exiting the room, Butler went to the supply officer and got the needed paper and pens. With the items in hand, he headed back. After giving all the men a piece of paper and a pen, he left them again to write their messages in peace. Twenty minutes later, the general returned and gathered the messages. He read them through fast and satisfied, pocketed them. As he was about to leave, Carter held up his hand and asked timidly, "Sir; may I have another piece of paper and maybe some color pens? I want to make a get well card for the Colonel."

Truly moved by the thoughtfulness of this young man, Butler replied, "Of course, lad. I will make sure you get those needed items for the get well card. I am sure it will be a great one. You must admire Colonel Hogan a lot, don't you, Sergeant Carter?"

Carter looked a bit shy and answered, "Yes, Sir. I...ehm...I mean, we all admire the colonel a lot. We all look up to him and respect him and we are all honored to serve under him as our commanding officer. We also see him as more than just our CO; he is also our best friend, Sir."

A promised, General Butler brought Carter the color pens and paper and he started his creation right away. His mates, as well as Schultz and Klink made suggestions along the way, helping in the design of the card. In the end, the front of the card showed a nice and detailed drawing of a B-17 in flight, before a setting sun, surrounded by soaring eagles. Beneath Carter had drawn a peaceful meadow with lush greenery and some buffalos, as well as a small deer. His mates had to smile at seeing the deer, knowing its meaning right away: Carter's Native American heritage.

Above the B-17 was written in big bold letters "Get well soon, Colonel Hogan!" On the inside, Carter drew another picture; this one showing their barracks and all the men standing in front of it, including Klink and Schultz. Carter really was great at this, he managed to put lots of detail into this drawing as well and he got all the faces perfectly. He took extra time to draw the colonel in the middle, showing him with his typical boyish, smug grin. Klink looked closer and was amazed at the young American's talent. "You really are very talented, Sergeant Carter. These drawings are wonderful. I am sure Colonel Hogan will love this card, knowing it was made by one of his men."

"Ah, shucks. But thank you Kommandant for your compliment. It means a lot, Sir." With those words said, Carter held out the card for everyone to sign. They all did so, using different colored pens to do it with, making the card very colorful. Newkirk then took the card, turned it around and wrote a meaningful short message on the back. "Get back on your feet, Gov'ner and give those damn brass hell, like you did with the Krauts. Show 'em what you are made of and don't give up without a fight! All me best; yours sincerely Corporal Peter Newkirk"

Schultz, who was standing behind Newkirk, saw the message and meant, "That is a beautiful message, Newkirk. I'm sure Colonel Hogan will follow your advice. He is not a man to give up, even when the odds are stacked against him. You can be sure; he will find a way out."

Thanking Schultz for his nice words, Newkirk then turned to the others in the room. "How about a few more rounds of gin rummy; before we call it a night, mates?"

Everyone sat back around the table and Newkirk shuffled the cards, before handing them out. While they played a few more rounds, they all shared some anecdotes about their time at Stalag 13, sometimes laughing out loud, as they remembered a few of their colonel's shenanigans. Shortly before lights out, General Butler returned and collected the card from Carter. Seeing the lovely details in the drawings, he too admired the young man's skills. Promising to get back to them with news about the colonel, he left them and bid them goodnight.

With nothing else to do, the men changed into their night clothes and hopped onto their respective bunks. Although they feared sleep won't come because of Schultz's snoring, they were all so exhausted; they fell asleep in moments and were all in dreamland.