Dear Colonel Hogan,
I'm aware you only tolerated me at best. But that doesn't mean I wish you any ill will. If anything, I want you to live. Fight this illness. Be stubborn, the way you always were whenever you got it into your head to do something back at Stalag 13. I know you can do it. You have a way of convincing people to do whatever you want, so convince Death that it's not your time yet. You're still needed here. When – not if – you recover, I would like to have a beer with you. Perhaps we can talk openly at that point...maybe even be friends. I'm sure the idea of being friends with your former jailer sounds ludicrous, but please understand I did the best I could to protect you and your men. I also meant it when I told you we could have been friends if we'd met in another time and place. Whatever you decide, kindly get well soon. Papa Bear's cubs need him.
All the best,
Wilhelm Klink
With a smile on his face, Butler set the note aside, reaching for the next one on the small pile. This one was from Schultz. Reading it aloud to Robert, the General made a mental note to himself to talk to Robert about these two men.
Dear Colonel Hogan,
I know that because of the war we should be enemies, but I never saw you as one. No; to me, you and your men were like my Kinder, eh children; always so full of mischief, thinking of the next prank and always playful, especially you, Colonel. You are the biggest child of them all and I truly love you like I would my own son. You are very dear to me.If you should not overcome your illness and die, it would fill me with utter grief. It would also be a devastating blow to your men, who all look up to you and admire you. So pleeease, Colonel Hogan, fight this illness like the stubborn man that we all know you are and come back to all of us. We miss you. Your boys are sick with worry for their commander and I can fully understand them (being the father of five, or make that ten, counting you and yours with them). I do hope that when you are back on your feet, we can all meet for a nice meal and a beer in one of those famous London pubs that Newkirk is always talking about. I am looking forward to it. So with that in mind, I wish you a speedy recovery.
Until we meet again,
Hans Schultz
The next he grabbed was from Corporal Newkirk, one of his own countrymen. It was a bit longer than he expected it to be for a note. This looked more like a letter. While he started reading this one, Hogan began to stir, showing signs of waking up.
Hey Rob,
Bet that got your attention eh, Gov'ner? Colonel Hogan, you are the best man I know, and that says a lot coming from me cause I know a lot of people. You came to Stalag 13 and took charge right away. You have built trust and a relationship with everyone. I've never seen a CO do that before. You have a big heart, and a mind full of both wisdom and cunning plans. Colonel, you are the best pilot I know, an exceptional drummer, a great prankster, and an amazing role model to all the guys. Besides that, you are also very brave. You have saved more lives than I can count. Hell, you will run in to a burning building or run through gunfire if that meant you had a chance of saving someone. Gov'ner, you are the most selfless person I know. Someone that's saved my life multiple times, but more importantly, you are family. And family always sticks together, no matter what.
So beat this damn illness, Gov' with your Irish born stubbornness and give those wankers at the court martial hell like a woman, eh, sorry, man... scorned. Bet you know the saying about 'Hell has no fury...' And I know very well that once your Irish temper flares, it is much better to duck and stay out of your way, instead of trying to stop you. Guess those court martial people have no idea whatsoever what they are getting themselves into. Once you start using that golden, gifted tongue of yours, they will stand no chance of beating you. Gov'ner when you win this round, and I bet you will, we will all sit together in me favourite London pub for a hearty meal and a few pints of beer; talking about everything and nothing. Looking forward to that meeting with you and the rest of the Stalag 13 gang.
Best regards,
Your favourite English corporal, Peter Newkirk
As Butler ended reading the note with the last written words; Hogan turned over, blinking his eyes open and looking surprised up at seeing the general in his cell. He was certain he heard someone talking or maybe just reading and that was what finally woke him up. Stretching aching muscles and suppressing another yawn, Hogan got up into a half sitting position, leaning with his back against the wall for support. "What you brings you to my humble abode, general, besides reading me letters from my men?"
Smiling at his now awake surrogate son, Butler answered, "I just came by to see how you are doing and to bring you those notes from your men. As I hadn't had the heart to wake you, I thought it would be good to read those notes to you aloud. So, how are you Robert? And please, be honest."
Thinking a moment, before answering, Hogan looked up at his surrogate father and said softly, "Honestly, I'm still not that well. I still get the occasional shiver or coughing bout, but what is mostly bothering me are the gunshot wounds. They still hurt and for the last day or two, I have this constant headache. The doc here told me it is most likely due to my head wound, but because of it, he isn't allowed to give me any pain meds. I'm feeling exhausted too. So all in all, I am still a wreck. I can only hope that in a weeks' time, I have improved enough to sit through the court martial without passing out right in the middle of it."
Taking a closer look at Robert, Butler now saw clearly that every word he was just told is true. Robert still looked pale under his deep tan; the left side of his face was still bruised and slightly swollen. But the most obvious sign of his current state was the bandage tied around his head that covered the gunshot wound. After three days the bandage was dirty and started to fray at the edges; it needed to be changed. And Butler said so. "Looks like you could use a bandage change. That one is starting to fall off. I arrange this immediately. Wait here."
Standing up, Butler knocked on the cell door and waited for it to be opened. Then he told the guard to send for the doctor and to tell him to bring new sets of bandages and cleaning utensils. The guard nodded and was gone.
Butler sat back down and told his protégé, "The guard is getting your doctor, who will then change all of your bandages, not just the one on your head."
Hogan looked surprised up at those words. "How did you..." Then he broke off, realizing he just gave himself away, by telling Butler that he had gunshot wounds troubling him, not just one. He was angry at himself for letting something like that slip, even if it was to one of his own side. But in his business this could be deadly. Chagrined at his own carelessness, Hogan leaned further back and closed his eyes, feeling a deep tiredness in his bones. And if he was honest with himself, he was more than glad the ruddy war was over for him and his men. They had all done enough and deserved time off. He needed it more than anyone else, especially now. Some would call his mental state "battle fatigue" and maybe they were right. He had to talk to a shrink when this was all done with; but one problem after another. For now, he had to take care of the court martial and then he could start with taking care of his own physical and mental health.
Minutes later the cell door opened and the doctor stepped in, carrying with him a tray filled with bandage rolls, a bottle of iodine solution, some cotton swaps and what looked like a syringe. Setting the tray aside, he greeted both men inside the cell, who returned it and then he got a closer look at his patient. Seeing that he was in obvious pain, the doctor pulled on his gloves and started his work. Carefully he took off the old, frayed bandage and inspected the exit and the entry wound. Satisfied with their look, he cleaned them with the iodine solution and then tied a new clean bandage around the colonel's head. He then asked him to remove his jacket and shirt. Grumbling under his breath, Hogan did as being told, albeit slowly. The doctor noticed this too and asked openly, "What is troubling you, colonel? I can see from your slow motions that something isn't right. So please tell me so I can help you, young man."
"You are right, doc; something is troubling me and that's those damn gunshot wounds I received a while back. They still hurt like hell when I move too fast, especially the one to my gut." Even while speaking those words, Hogan continued with disrobing. His jacket was already off and he was now undoing his dress shirt buttons, one after another. Finally he had undone the last one and pulling the shirt tails out of his pants, he pulled it off completely, baring his upper body.
Again the doctor unraveled the old bandage and this time he took an even closer look at the wound to Hogan's stomach. It was red around the edges and the skin felt hot to the touch; certain signs that this wound was infected. Thankfully the other wound to his side was healing up nicely and wouldn't need a cover anymore. Glad for his foresight, the doctor grabbed the syringe filled with a shot of Penicillin and without preamble, injected the colonel with it. He yelped at the unsuspected prick to his arm and shot the doctor a withering glare. "Next time, warn a man; will you?"
The doctor just smiled and replied, "Don't tell me, colonel that this small prick to your skin bothered you more than your other wounds, which are way more severe. It would be very surprising."
Hogan shook his head and clarified, "No, you only took me by surprise that is all, doc. I have a high tolerance for pain, so this was nothing. I yelped because you caught me off guard, nothing else. Also, I hate needles. So keep using them on me to a minimum, doc."
The doctor nodded in confirmation and began cleaning the stomach wound thoroughly, trying to be gentle. But still Hogan couldn't suppress a wince when the doc touched a very sensitive area. After a few minutes it was done and the doc tied a new bandage around the colonel's abdomen, protecting the inflamed wound. He also pulled out a bottle of pills from his coat pocket and handed it to Hogan. "Here; these are for you. Take two every four to five hours, together with the other pills I have given you. These are to help you fight the infection, colonel; so don't forget taking them or the consequences could be very dire for you. Understood?"
Hogan took the proffered pill bottle and nodded to the doc; seeing his questioning look, the doc said to him, "You can start taking them now, colonel. The faster we get this under control, the better. I think we caught this infection in its early stages, so we might be lucky, or more precisely…you will be lucky."
Not needing to be told twice, Hogan opened the bottle, shook out two pills and swallowed them, followed by a few swallows of water from one of the canteens. Butler who had watched it all happen, spoke up, "I think it is best to leave you now to your rest, colonel." Turning to the doc, he added, "Let's head out, doctor. The guard can call you, if something is wrong and you are needed."
Grabbing his tray the doc followed the general out of the cell, after the guard had opened it for them. After sending a last telling look to his protégé; Butler left and the door closed again with a bang. Now alone again, Hogan stood up and walked over to the chair on which Butler left the messages and a card for him. Hogan took them and retook his place on his hard bunk. Making himself as comfortable as possible, he started to read them; at least those that Butler hadn't read to him. The first one was from his second radioman Sergeant Richard Baker. He hadn't known the man as long as he knew Kinch, but he liked him and respected him. Skin color never mattered to him and it never would. So with these thoughts in mind, the colonel started to read.
Colonel Hogan,
I actually haven't known you that long, although it feels like I've known you for a lifetime. You've got this easygoing manner that made me truly feel like part of your team from the get-go. Never once did you look down on me for my skin color, or act like you were high and mighty simply because you're an officer. I appreciate that more than you'll ever understand. I've never met a man like you in my entire military career, sir. I doubt I ever will again either; you're one of a kind. What's being done to you is completely and utterly wrong, especially since you did everything because London told you to do so. The U.S. hasn't got a clue how hard you've worked, how much sleep you've lost to fulfill all those insane requests. I've heard lots of stories from the other guys. For the Americans to treat you like a criminal for helping London is outrageous! Anyhow, please fight whatever's making you sick. Everyone – including Klink and Schultz – is worried about you. We need you to get better. If getting out of jail will accomplish that, then me and the rest of your team will bust you out of that cell without any hesitation, Colonel. All you have to do is say the word; we'll take care of the rest.
Awaiting your orders,
Richard Baker
Hogan had to smile at those last words. That sounded so typical for one of his men. They were all very loyal and dedicated to him, to a fault. But he knew deep down they wouldn't hesitate to bust him out of his prison cell. Shaking his head, the colonel set the note aside and took the next one. This one was from his demolitions expert, the youngest man in his group, Technical Sergeant Andrew Carter.
Colonel Hogan,
Oh boy, sir, this is a hard letter for me to write. You've always been like a father figure to me. You helped me grow up. You helped me see my strengths instead of just my weaknesses. Part of the reason I talk sooooo much is to hide those weaknesses. Since my family has heard everything, I don't get the chance to talk. But I had the opportunity to talk and to suggest ideas while under your command. I feel like it's our turn to plan a mission to break you out of that jail cell; you don't belong there. Of all our missions of breaking people out, you are the most worthy. I know when you feel very ill, you stop caring. I've seen it in my extended family. But I don't want you to go through that too. Let's get you healthy again ASAP. Please sir, fight until we can rescue you!
Your faithful soldier who will be there the moment you give a hint or word,
Andrew Carter
As he read those heartfelt words from Carter, the colonel felt his eyes start to water. Never one to show emotions so openly, he just let the tears flow. No one would see him anyway, so he was allowed to let go for a short while, letting his guard down.
Wiping his eyes with the back of his jacket sleeve, Hogan took the last note from the men and read it. This one was from his diminutive Frenchman, the most passionate of them all.
Mon Colonel,
I cannot believe the audacity of the Americans right now! How dare they throw you in jail like a common criminal? You, the bravest, most selfless man I've ever known! It makes me sick. Worse yet, I am not allowed to cook for you. I know this because I already asked…multiple times. If I had a way to get you some of my magnifiqué French cooking, I know it would perk you right up. On top of everything else, myself, mes amis – and the two Boche – have been told you're very sick. Not being able to be by your side when you need me is heartbreaking, mon Colonel. I need you to fight your illness. I don't care how you do it, but you must fight! All of us need our leader, our friend, our brother. If we cannot come to you, then we'll have to bring you to us. Either way, sir, you'll be getting out of that cell one way or another. I'm not above bribing Schultzie to help me break you out of there. I promise you, I'll hop on his back and use him as a battering ram if I have to!
Stay strong until I see you again,
Louis LeBeau
Now he had to openly laugh out loud, imagining little LeBeau hopping onto Schultz's back and using him as a human battering ram to get into the jail and bust him out. That mental picture alone brought again tears to his eyes, although those were happy tears; caused by his intense laughter. He needed a few minutes to compose himself and to regain a regular breathing pattern. But those carefree moments of genuine laughter were a balsam to his wounded soul. He mentally thanked his men, as well as Schultz and Klink for their words of encouragement and knew he had to get out of there, even if it was only to somehow repay them for their kindness.
Setting this last note aside, Hogan finally picked up the card. It was a get well card and it was carefully and excellently drawn by hand. The details in the drawing of a B-17 Flying Fortress in flight overwhelmed the colonel again. Even as the tears flowed again, Hogan shook his head, reprimanding his own inability to keep his emotions in check; something he normally excelled at. He studied the picture more closely and saw the little deer to one side of it, keeping the grazing buffalos company. It told him without a shadow of a doubt who drew those figures without having to read his name. He knew that some of his men had hidden talents and Carter was among the lot.
Smiling brightly, Hogan opened the card and was taken aback at seeing the drawing on the inside. It looked almost like a picture, so lifelike were the persons shown in it. It showed him standing in front of barracks two surrounded by his men and Schultz and Klink, all with smiling faces, although his looked like the biggest. He was truly overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of his men; their personal messages to him and this card showed him how much he meant to all of his men. Sentimental fools, the lot of them, Hogan thought with a shake of his head. He regretted the movement right afterwards as a wave of dizziness overtook him. As the nausea had passed, the colonel got up slowly, picked up the stack of messages and the card and put them into the inner pocket of his leather bomber jacket.
He then grabbed the jacket and the shirt and hung them up on the hook in the wall. He returned to his hard bunk and lay down, pulling the blanket over his lean body and closed his eyes. Not a minute later he was fast asleep.
The guard, who made a routine check, saw him sleeping, but slightly shivering. So he went and got another thick blanket and covered Hogan with it; then he continued on with his rounds.
