Chapter Two

The door to LuftStalag 13 Barracks Two flew open and the room's bare light bulbs flared to life. Grumbling and moaning, the prisoners rolled over in their beds and lifted their heads to see who had barged in to disturb their sleep. Klink and the P.O.W. camp's Sergeant of the Guard went to the center of the room and waited for the din of protest to die down.

"What's goin' on?" yawned Robert Hogan, Senior Prisoner of War, from the doorway to his quarters.

Klink stepped toward him, riding crop in hand, chin set with determination. "I wish to negotiate, Colonel Hogan."

"You couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

Klink raised his arm directly in front of Hogan's face and pulled back his sleeve, revealing his watch. "It is tomorrow. NOW, Hogan. This cannot wait."

"Oh, all right." Hogan folded his arms and rested his weight against the door frame. "What do you want?"

"I am expecting very special guests this evening at eight o'clock. I want LeBeau to prepare one of his finest meals for us."

The Frenchman popped out of his bunk and scurried over. He glared up into Klink's face. "At such short notice?!" His arms crossed tightly against his chest. "Non!"

"I'll make it worth your while," Klink wheedled, pressing his hands together as if he were praying. "Two extra slices of white bread per man each week, an extra ten minutes of hot water, thirty minutes extra light." His pleading look alternated between Hogan and LeBeau.

Hogan let out a mental whistle. Klink rarely tossed out such generous opening bids when negotiating for favors. Hogan nodded, signaling LeBeau to accept - but on his own terms.

LeBeau's chin lifted and he turned back to Klink. "How many guests?"

"Two."

"I may choose the menu?"

"Yes!"

"I will be allowed to go into town and pick out the ingredients myself?"

"Yes, yes!" Klink nodded so violently Hogan thought he would hurt himself.

"D'accord. I will do it." Ignoring Klink's gushing declarations of gratitude, LeBeau walked back to his bunk, already muttering various choices for the menu.

Hogan studied Klink with narrowed eyes. The Kommandant appeared jubilant, energized with anticipation.

"I haven't seen you this happy since that time Frau Linkmeyer came down with laryngitis."

"Hogan, I have been trying for over a month to get a date with this woman. Tonight, she finally said 'yes'. Everything must be perfect! Nothing is going to spoil this evening! Especially not you!"

"How quickly you forget a favor!" Hogan griped, pushing away from the door frame.

"Thank you, Hogan," Klink quickly muttered. A moment later, his finger was pointed inches from Hogan's face. "But I'm warning you! Do anything to spoil this evening and you'll be in the cooler so long your hair will be white before you seen the sun again!"

Klink snapped his fingers at Schultz, jerking the guard out of his doze. "Now, if you'll excuse me, time is short and I have other preparations to make."

Bemused, Hogan watched him disappear out the door, Schultz trudging along behind, smothering a yawn.

"Gee, who do you suppose he's talking about, Colonel?" Carter let loose with a yawn of his own, absently scratched at the shoulder of his long johns.

"Over a month ... " Hogan stared into the distance, thinking. The answer, when it came, sent both black eyebrows soaring. "Kurt's cousin. Has to be."

"That new barmaid at the Hauserhof?" LeBeau squeaked.

"The one ... " Newkirk sketched an hourglass in the air.

Hogan nodded.

Kinch shook his head. "Can't be. A woman like that would have guys lined up twenty deep waiting for dates. How in the world would Klink ever manage to jump to the head of the line?" His bushy mustache lifted in a grimace. "C'mon, Colonel!"

"Okay, then. Who? You know how he gets. He's like a Doberman with a new bone. What other woman has he raved about over the past month?"

They hemmed and hawed, but were unable to come up with another answer.

Hogan turned back to his quarters. "We'll know soon enough who's captured Don Juan's heart. Right now, the only woman I want to think about is the one I left waiting in my dreams. Good night. Again."

"Wow." Carter tried to picture Klink with the beautiful woman their friend Kurt had once described to them. Unable to accomplish it, he gave his head a hard shake and wandered back to his bunk.

LeBeau resumed mumbling ingredients and various culinary delicacies while the lights were extinguished. He had just settled on the dessert when a wadded up sock bounced off his temple.

"Hey!"

"Keep it down, LeBeau," Kinch snapped from his bunk. "You're giving me a whopping case of indigestion."

Sending a rude gesture in Kinch's direction under cover of the darkness, LeBeau flipped onto his side and went back to planning his menu -- silently.

"What's the world coming to?" Newkirk asked from the haven of his own bunk. "Just the idea of ol' iron pants with a woman like that is enough to make me lose my faith in the fairer sex." A sock missile thumped off his ear and Kinch's voice rang out once again.

"The next guy who talks gets to be my new sparring partner!"

HH*HH*HH*HH*HH*HH*HH*HH*HH*HH

Klink was obviously preoccupied at morning roll call and dismissed the prisoners before Schultz had even finished giving his report. Bantering amiably, the prisoners dispersed to go about their plans for the day. Schultz gestured to Corporal Langenscheidt. The guard gathered up a few of the men and herded them away for garbage detail. Their taunts and complaints peppered the air as they shuffled ahead of him. Newkirk and Carter set off to do laundry while Schultz and LeBeau headed to the motor pool and the promised shopping trip. Hogan watched until they had entered the motor pool, then joined Kinch near the camp well.

"Pick some of the wild flowers growing around camp, enough for a nice, full bouquet. There were some under the water tower and around the back of the de-lousing station. If you need more than that, slip out the emergency tunnel and grab the ones we saw the other night near that rock shaped like Hitler's nose."

"One fancy, floral favor coming up. Will that be for delivery or pick up?"

"Quite the cut-up this morning, aren't you? Pick up. I'll take care of the delivery personally."

Kinch glanced toward Klink's office. "You still think Risa Leidel is the one?"

"Yup."

Kinch smiled, a predatory glint appearing in his eyes. "How much?"

Hogan shook his head in mock despair. "Newkirk's influence is rubbing off on you."

"Uh, huh. How much?"

"Make it a candy bar."

"With or without nuts?"

"Without." Hogan patted his belly. "Got to watch the waistline."

HH*HH*HH*HH*HH*HH*HH*HH*HH*HH

Klink's secretary stopped typing and curled her hands demurely in her lap. "Are those for me?" She asked, staring at the bouquet in Hogan's hand with anticipation.

Hogan sauntered across the room and perched on the corner of her desk, being careful not to disturb her neatly ordered paperwork. Fraulein Hilda gave him a flirtatious smile and tilted her face up, encouraging him to come closer. He leaned over and just before their lips touched, whispered, "No."

She frowned up at him. "No?"

"Huh-uh." He brushed noses with her before she pulled away. "These are much too plain for you."

Pleasure erased her frown. "Why, Colonel, how very sweet."

He nodded toward the Kommandant's office door. "Is he in?"

"Yes," she answered, drawing the word out in obvious confusion. "You are giving Kommandant Klink flowers?"

"You don't think he deserves flowers?"

"Well . . ."

"Everybody needs a little picker-upper every now and then, Fraulein Hilda," Hogan teased. "Even ol' Blood an' Guts." Giving her a wink, he stood and went to Klink's office.

"Good afternoon, Colonel," Hogan called out in a singsong voice as he entered the room. Keeping the flowers tucked out of sight behind his back, he bent his foot backward and gently nudged the door closed. Klink stood beside his desk, looking over a handful of papers.

"I'm busy, Hogan. Whatever it is, come back later -- perhaps next week." Klink's salute was a sloppy flip of his hand. He turned on his heel, presenting his back.

Hogan nimbly stepped around him and back into his field of vision. Pulling his arms out from behind his back, he revealed the flowers and thrust them up to Klink's face.

A nose full of pollen made quite an impression upon Klink's sinuses. A sneeze ripped from his throat, the force of it blasting his monocle from its perch directly into the depths of the bouquet. Hogan rummaged around in the flowers and eventually located the missing glass. With a bright smile, he offered it up.

Klink dumped the papers on the desk and jerked the eyepiece away. "What is the meaning of this, Hogan?" Taking out his handkerchief, he dusted off the glass disk and carefully replaced it on his eye.

"The men and I just thought you might like them for your lady, Kommandant. You know, brighten up the table, make your quarters more festive. Help set the mood."

Klink's eyes, still watering from the sneeze, glared down at the bouquet. "How did you get flowers?"

"I popped out to Hammelburg and bought them at the local market." At Klink's horrified expression, Hogan sighed. "You might brush up on your observation skills, sir. They're growing all over camp at this time of year."

Klink harrumphed. "I have no need of such common flowers. My natural magnetism will be quite sufficient to win her over."

Hogan swallowed back laughter. "You could have fooled me, the way you flew into our barracks this morning, begging for LeBeau's help. I thought you wanted this evening to be perfect?"

"Of course I do. Oh, very well," Klink sighed in surrender. "I'll take all the help I can get. The flowers are a very nice idea, Hogan. Thank you." He grasped the bouquet and pulled. Hogan held on and was yanked forward, against Klink's chest, squashing the flowers between them.

"You can't have them yet." Hogan leaned backward, tugged the flowers along with him. Klink stubbornly jerked on the bouquet again, drawing both flowers and Hogan closer once more.

A brief tug of war ensued, the flowers jerking back and forth, with neither man gaining the advantage. Breathless from the exertion, Klink panted, "Explain yourself, Hogan!"

"They haven't passed inspection yet."

"The only inspection that counts is mine and I say that they are fine!"

"Wrong," Hogan snapped. "The Maitre d'cuisine has the final say."

The answer confused Klink enough that his grip loosened. Hogan immediately swung the flowers out of grabbing range. "They don't get put on the table until LeBeau says whether or not they're good enough. A bad arrangement could spoil the ambiance . . . destroy the appetite. And nothing is more insulting to a master chef than food going uneaten."

"Why are you going to such lengths to ensure the success of my evening?" Klink moved closer and squinted into Hogan's eyes. "What are you up to, Hogan?"

Hogan projected wounded innocence. "Nothing! The fellas and I just got to talking this morning after roll call about how lonely you must be and how it was about time that you found someone who could give you the love and affection that you so richly deserve. We wanted to do something to show that we cared and to do our part to help out." He shrugged and slowly turned toward the door. "But if you think we've got some ulterior motive . . ."

Klink squirmed in place. "Wait! Hogan, I apologize. It was unfair of me to think that. Tell your men I appreciate their thoughtfulness."

Just the response he'd been going for. Hogan whipped back around. "Hey, that's really considerate of you, Colonel. They'll appreciate your appreciation, sir."

"It was nothing," Klink demurred, waving away the gratitude.

"So, this lady, she's probably another countess, huh?" Hogan approached the desk as Klink slipped into a seat behind it. "Or a baroness? Somebody with royal blood, I bet."

Sporting a jaunty smile, Klink leaned back and steepled his hands in front of himself. "No, no. Though I did have to turn a countess down the other day. Sad, really, but I couldn't possibly take her up on her offer. She was much too old for me." His shoulders squared and his chin lifted. "Women simply can't help themselves when presented with such a virile man as myself. Some of them come close to swooning when they learn of my identity. I tell you, Hogan, their lack of control can be truly embarrassing."

Oh, brother.

Hogan bowed his head, again wrestling with the urge to laugh at the show of conceit. Keeping his head down to conceal any sign of the inner struggle, he peered up at Klink from beneath the brim of his cap. "This one must really be special then, for you to pick her out from your horde of admirers."

"Special falls short in describing her! She is utterly exquisite! Her eyes are the most beautiful shade of green and her hair is like the purest spun silk." Klink sighed, his expression turning love-struck. "And her name rolls off the tongue like the finest wine. Risa Leidel," he intoned, drawing the name out while spreading his hands wide apart.

Hogan glanced involuntarily to the microphone hidden in a picture of Hitler. That's one candy bar you owe me, Kinch, he declared silently to the man listening at the coffee pot receiver. His satisfaction at winning their bet was cut short by a sudden realization.

"You said two guests. Who's the other?"

Klink's besotted expression soured. "Her brother."

"Her brother?" Hogan echoed, his voice climbing the scale. "You invite a beautiful woman to a candlelight supper and ask her brother to come along?" He drew away, warily eyeing Klink. "You sure do have funny ideas about romance, sir."

"It was her idea, not mine!" Klink wailed, throwing his hands into the air. "I couldn't very well say 'no', now could I?"

Hogan unaccountably felt a moment of pity for him. He chewed on his lip and fiddled with the bouquet, searching for something to make Klink feel better. He blurted out the only thing he could think of-which wasn't much.

"Maybe she wanted him along for the very reason you mentioned."

Klink looked up with a hopeful expression.

"She doesn't trust herself around such a charismatic, virile man like you. So she's bringing her brother along to keep her from embarrassing herself!" Hogan almost gagged on the explanation. Even his acting had its limits.

Klink slowly straightened in the chair and his face regained its former animation and cheer. "You think so?"

"Sure!" Hogan barely kept from rolling his eyes. Kinch was probably having a good laugh at his efforts to soothe Klink's ego.

"Well," Klink threw his chest out and smoothed one hand down the front of his uniform. "Now that I think of it, what other reason could she have? If she plays her cards right, Hogan, she just might become the wife of the most feared Kommandant in all of Germany."

I think I'm going to be sick, Hogan groaned silently, relaxing his restraint enough to cast a weary look toward the ceiling.

"Now Hogan," Klink shot to his feet and circled the desk. "I'm counting on you to see that little cockroach produces the best meal of his life for this evening. With what he spent on groceries, it ought to be gold-plated!"

"You want the best, you have to pay for it," Hogan retorted.

"Oh, and I will," Klink volleyed back. "For the next 3 months!" He saluted crisply. "Diiiissss-misssed!!"

Hogan returned the salute with his customary panache, did a neat about-face and headed back to the barracks with the bouquet clutched in his fist. He had winnings to collect - once Kinch stopped laughing.