Over the next six days, Hogan fell into a routine, one he had adopted from his early academy days at West Point. He got up early at around 0600 hrs; but instead of making his bed, he dutifully took his pills and then he did some work-out. He hoped the daily exercise would help to regain his strength and he gradually heightened the number of push-ups, sit-ups, knee bends and jumping jacks. On the morning of the seventh day, the day of his court martial, Hogan felt a whole lot better. His wounds didn't trouble him as much as before and the coughing fits, shivering and dizzy spells had ceased all together. He was more than ready to face the day. Thanks to Lieutenant Hermann he had at least the opportunity to shave every morning, as the JAG officer had left the shaving kit for him to use.
Having completed his shave, Hogan put on his dress shirt and buttoned it to the top; the tie quickly followed. The look completed with the tiepin. As he was about to put on his bomber jacket, the door to his cell opened and General Butler entered, holding a clothing bag in one hand. With a look at Hogan, he said, "No need for the leather bomber jacket, Robert. I have your dress tunic here as well as a new crush cap."
Seeing Hogan's glare, Butler added smiling, "You need to impress those officers who are holding your court martial. Wearing your full Class A dress uniform and a new crush cap will help you to accomplish that very easily. I can guarantee you if you step into that court room, Robert, all eyes will turn to you immediately. Like it or not, you draw everyone's attention, wherever you are. Being still young, but already so high in rank is highly unusual and therefore you will be the man everyone wishes to talk to. Add to that your handsome good looks and voila, it's the complete package that every woman is looking for in their dream man. Well at least, if one is the marrying type, which I can't see happening with you, Robert. You seem to love the chase, the flirts; you are looking for challenges, something to keep you on your toes. I guess that is the reason why you are more or less married to your job. You are a dedicated soldier, a highly decorated flight veteran, a former bomb group commander and of course, Papa Bear…the leader of the most successful covert operation behind enemy lines. If you keep this up, you will retire one day as a very lonely four-star general."
Hearing those words from his adopted father, Hogan shook his head, but had to grin smugly when he heard the general describing him so accurately. Taking the proffered clothing bag, Hogan hung it up on the hook and zipped it open. Laying his beloved leather jacket aside, he carefully took out the army green dress tunic, staring at the four rows of ribbon bars adorning the left chest of it. He had earned every single one of those medals, with merits, showing his leading ability and risking life and limb time and time again to save the lives of comrades, the lives of fellow airmen or if it was necessary, the lives of civilians. He remembered the ceremonies when he got his Bronze Star, Silver Star and the Purple Heart. Those were the most emotional ones, for him as well as the other attendees. Not sure if he'd ever get the chance to add more ribbon bars or if his military career would be over today, Robert Hogan shook himself out of his reverie and slipped his arms into the sleeves of his dress tunic. He buttoned it up, grabbed the crush cap, went with his hand one last time through his thick mane of black hair, carefully avoiding the bandage and put the cap on, regulation wise for once. Then he left the cell together with General Butler.
On the floor they were joined by Lieutenant Hermann and two guards, who accompanied Hogan to the court room. Hermann smiled encouragingly at the colonel, patting the briefcase in his hand and told him, "I have witness statements in here…and of course, the thick file of your whole military career. There is so much in here going for you, Sir; they will have no other choice but to acquit you."
Hoping against hope that the JAG officer was right, but still unsure of his future, Hogan only nodded vaguely, just concentrating on setting one foot ahead of the other. Even though he felt overall better than a week earlier, thanks to his daily work-out sessions, the headache still lingered and it worried him. Using a sleight of hand trick he managed to get two aspirin pills out of his jacket pocket and when no one was looking, he quickly swallowed them dry. Then to his surprise one of the guards held out a canteen for him, saying, "You look like you could use it, Sir. So please, take it. I can always get a new one from the quartermaster."
Thanking the guard with a nod, Hogan took the canteen, opened it and took a few big gulps, nearly choking on the water. Coming to his senses, he slowed down and drank the water in slow sips, savoring its coolness, which helped to awaken him a bit more.
As the small group continued its walk along the halls, up the staircases and then out of the building altogether, General Butler spoke to his protégé, "Your court martial is being held at the 95th Air Base at Horham. It is close by and your men are there too. Maybe you will get a chance to meet them while you are there. As from now on, you will be confined to a room in the officer's quarters with a guard stationed in front of it. I managed to persuade High Command that there is no need to keep you holed up below ground like a common criminal; that you deserve to be treated according to your rank. They agreed with me." Realizing that Hogan's attention wasn't on him, but on the floor, Butler asked, putting a hand on Robert's arm, "Did you hear what I just said, colonel? Are you alright?"
Shaking himself out of his stupor, Hogan answered, "Yeah, I heard you loud and clear, Sir. And I am alright, no worries."
Satisfied with the answer, Butler let go and exited the building first, followed by Hermann and then at last Hogan with his two guards. Just before they walked completely out, they halted their progress and with a look of regret on their faces, snapped the handcuffs on Hogan's wrists; only then did they lead him out and to the waiting truck. Inside the truck one of the guards went even as far as cuffing Hogan to the bench he was sitting on, keeping him immobile. Without any comments the colonel allowed all of this to happen; instead he just closed his eyes and leaned back against the canvas cover, trying to relax. His lawyer smiled at seeing how innocent his client looked in those moments.
Just before the truck drove off, another guard came running, holding a packed canvas bag and shouted, "Hold it! You have to take this with you! These are the colonel's belongings and clothes!"
One of the guards in the back of the truck took the proffered bag and threw it in. The other guard ran back inside, having fulfilled his order. Then the truck finally left. The drive to Horham started, going over bumpy city and backroads, full of potholes. Unfortunately for Hogan, he felt every single one of them because of his still healing injuries. The big ones were the worst; it felt like molten lava was swishing in his stomach, as the infection hadn't gone down as far as the doctor had hoped it would. Hogan couldn't suppress the hiss of pain every time it happened. After the fourth or fifth time, he'd had enough and took his frustration out at the driver, a poor hapless Army corporal.
"Where did you learn to drive, corporal? Next time you hit a pothole the size of a crater, I'll bust you down to a rank lower than private, got it?!"
The corporal nodded and promised to try his utmost to avoid the worst of them, as they were so many, thanks to the constant bombing raids of the German Luftwaffe at night. Grumbling under his breath, but satisfied with the answer, Hogan settled back down.
After a three hour drive, the truck reached the air base and drove right up the biggest building of all, the administration building with all the offices. Hermann got out first and one of the guards too, and then it was Hogan's turn. After being released from the chains that kept him in place, he was allowed to hop down from the truck's tailgate. General Butler was already there and again the small group began its track. Heading to the third floor, they went along a long corridor and at its end; they reached their destination, the court room. Here his future, his fate would be determined by a military judge and jury. Hogan got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, telling him something bad was about to happen. Sadly his gut instinct would be proven right at the end of the day.
Hearing the opening statements from both sides and witness statements, as well as cross-examine a few of them, the judge adjourned the court for a quarter hour to be able to decide on a verdict. He and the other four officers who made up the jury were absolutely certain that Hogan was guilty. They had heard and seen enough so far, even though the defense lawyer had witness statements in favor of the defendant. But the plaintiff had even more, many coming from high ranking officers of the West Allies. Therefore it seemed their minds were made up already.
After the break, the judge and jury returned to the court room. The judge asked the defendant to please rise. Hogan did as asked, together with his lawyer Lieutenant Hermann. With baited breath both men waited on the next words from the judge. Hogan had been found guilty of various charges; two of them capital offences, disobeying a direct order and the accusation of being a sell-out…a traitor! Because of those capital offences, the judge and jury went for the most crucial punishment, the death sentence. The judge read out the verdict, which included Hogan being stripped of his rank and being dishonorably discharged from the USAAF. The defendant was then to be taken to a cell in the Tower of London and in two days' time, he would be hung at dawn. May God have mercy on his soul. Then the gravel hit the desk surface, making the verdict final.
Hogan was taken to his high security cell in the Tower of London, put in heavy restraints. One set around his ankles, another around his wrists, with a chain around his middle and a connecting chain between them all. He could only shuffle instead of walking and was helped along by his guards, not too gently of course.
