Brothers in Arms
Chapter Nine
Allied High Command was understandably suspicious of the information and of Hogan's source. Bringing every bit of his persuasive ability to bear, he eventually convinced them to send a squadron of bombers to the warehouse coordinates. With London's complaints still ringing in his ears, he signed off and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was second-guessing himself now that he had accomplished what he had set out to do. His instincts had never failed him. But there was always a first time.
Patiently, he stood by while Kinch went about the task of powering the radio down. As if sensing his turmoil, Kinch made no comment upon the heated exchange. He worked with quiet efficiency, his long fingers moving with grace and dexterity through each step of the process. As soon as his clipboard had been hung on its nail – the final step – Hogan beckoned to him. Together, they went to deliver the news.
They had left the others waiting in another, larger room in the tunnel system. Upon returning, they found Carter talking animatedly to Klaus and Hermann. The young sergeant's face was flushed with enthusiasm, his arms waving as he illustrated a particular point. LeBeau and Newkirk stood a short distance away. Both men appeared sullen and Hogan noted with approval that their hands remained close to their weapons.
The conversation was wholly one-sided. Klaus faced Carter at parade rest, wearing a slightly bemused look. In the shadows along the wall, Hermann leaned upon a shoulder, keeping close watch upon everyone. His arms were folded, his legs crossed at the ankles. Carter's narrative reached a fever-pitch and Hogan blinked in surprise. He could have sworn a smile had briefly broken through Nuechterlein's somber expression.
Noticing Hogan's return, Carter quickly finished his story about his great-great-grandfather's buffalo hunting days. Klaus' attention remained riveted upon Carter, as if he were waiting for the tumble of words to continue.
Hogan cleared his throat, jerking Klaus' out of his reverie. "The bombers are on their way. If the map coordinates were accurate and if they get there in time, the Third Reich should soon have one less warehouse and convoy."
Klaus nodded, causing his auburn forelock to flop forward. Even with the welcome news, Hogan sensed a certain weariness in the other man's demeanor and couldn't help wonder at it.
"As pleased as I am to hear your news, there is still the matter of the convoy's destination," Klaus remarked, answering Hogan's silent question.
"Maybe we'll hear something." Carter's voice was hopeful and Hogan had to smile despite his own concerns.
"That would be surprising," Hermann rumbled from the shadows. "Considering Folger and his compatriots had managed to keep the convoy's existence a secret."
LeBeau strode across the room, stopped in front of Hermann and pulled himself up to his full height. Even so, he had to bend his head back to look into the hazel eyes above him. "You found out about it, didn't you?"
Hermann looked down at him and after a moment, he acknowledged LeBeau's point with a regal nod. The little Frenchman gave a sharp nod, turned on his heel, and returned to his place next to Newkirk.
"If the bombers do manage to find and destroy the convoy," Kinch said, moving to stand beside Hogan. "they'll start looking for a leak. That's going to put some heat directly upon you." His gaze came to rest upon Klaus.
"I was not in Dinske's office long enough for them to be concerned. They know nothing about my ability, either. Dinske and Folger are the more likely candidates to fall under suspicion."
"Boy, I hope their life insurance is paid up," Carter chuckled, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Hogan thought back to Klaus' argument and came up with another question. "Why not talk with me at the Metzger farm?"
"You didn't seem very approachable at the time," Klaus answered shortly.
"I was having a bad day," Hogan admitted, thinking back to Miri and Newkirk's injuries, the three children, and Ryker's violent nature. His expression hardened as he voiced another thought. "You could have tried to persuade Kurt to hook us up."
Sadness momentarily clouded Klaus' face. "Kurt is – was – like a brother to me. Yet he saw me that day as a threat to your safety."
"And later?" Hogan prompted.
Klaus shrugged. "I could not take the chance. If I had failed to convince him of my true intentions, he would have warned you. You might have gone even deeper into hiding, left Germany entirely, or possibly even have come after me and killed me. I felt my best chance was to find you by other means and talk with you face to face."
Hogan abruptly turned away and beckoned LeBeau over. Leaning in close and pitching his voice low, he gave the Frenchman instructions. LeBeau flicked a distrustful glance at Klaus and Hermann and left the room at a fast walk.
"Make yourselves comfortable," Hogan said, turning back to Klaus. "It will be awhile before we learn if the strike was successful."
"The convoy will be destroyed. The information was good and the Allied bombers have been notoriously accurate of late. This is just the first in what promises to be a very successful partnership."
"We'll see, Leidel."
LeBeau reappeared with Benson and Parker in tow. Hogan indicated Klaus and Hermann with a tip of his head. "Stay with these gentlemen and see that they don't wander off."
Benson and Parker immediately bracketed the two Germans.
Klaus frowned. "Where are you going?"
"Oh, don't worry. We won't be far." With that, Hogan led the remainder of his men from the room.
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Kinch waited until everyone had filed into Hogan's quarters, then shut the door, put his back to it, and folded his arms.
"Say the bombers take out the warehouse and convoy. What then?"
Hogan leaned back against the bunk frame. "We let Mutt and Jeff go."
Kinch's head jerked up in surprise. "Is that a good idea, sir?"
Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau all started talking at once, the din of their combined voices filling the small room. Hogan waited, giving them a chance to voice their arguments. When his ears started to hurt from the noise, he raised his hand and they fell silent. "We let them go," he repeated firmly, provoking another round of protest.
"Are you giving him the benefit of the doubt because he's Kurt's cousin?" Kinch's question somehow managed to cut through the babble. Newkirk, Carter, and Lebeau quieted, waited for the answer.
Hogan sorted through his thoughts and impressions. "Maybe I am," he confessed. "Along with a few other reasons."
Newkirk came forward. "Begging the guv'nor's pardon, but would you mind awfully much sharing those other reasons with the rest of us? Seeing as how our skins are on the line, too."
Hogan frowned. He had hoped to avoid this confrontation. "Leidel was right about everything. He had to have seen and done what he claimed."
"You mean he really could have killed you at the river?" Carter's voice quivered.
"Or caught me," Hogan admitted reluctantly. He gave a mental sigh, knowing he might as well confess to a few other things. "I wasn't doing too well at the time. His men could have smoked a couple of cigarettes, told a few jokes and still had plenty of time to wade across and get me."
"Just warming up in front of the Metzger's fire, huh?" Kinch's tone was accusatory.
"It wasn't exactly a lie," Hogan said, folding his arms against his chest in a defensive gesture.
Kinch's glare deepened and his voice took on a distinct sarcastic note. "It wasn't exactly the whole truth, either. Sir. Soaking wet, traveling that distance to the Metzger's farm – you could have died from hypothermia."
Three pairs of wide eyes settled on Hogan and the accusation in them cut him like a blade.
"All right!" Hogan snapped, uncomfortable with their scrutiny. "Kurt said it was touch and go for awhile! But that was then and we've got a situation now. I've made up my mind. We let Frick and Frack walk."
"What if this is a trap to confirm our capabilities?" LeBeau asked, lines of concern creasing his face.
"The bombers could be flying right into a trap!" Newkirk heatedly pointed out.
"What if they come back tomorrow with guns and orders to capture us?" The worry in Carter's gaze was the final dig of the knife.
Hogan braced his hands on his hips. Anger crackled in his voice. "You think I haven't thought about all that? You think I haven't thought about the men who might die because I've decided to trust Laurel and Hardy?"
Quieting his voice and his temper, he asked them, "But what if there is a convoy and we do nothing about it? The chemicals get delivered, the Krauts use them to cook up something that I don't even want to think about, and thousands of people die because we did nothing." He blew out a deep breath, tightly gathered his emotions. "Letting them go is a gamble. A big one. But every decision I make anymore is a gamble. Every time I send someone on a mission may be the last time that I see them. Every day, I face the possibility that people may die if I make the wrong choice. Making life and death decisions isn't something I enjoy. But it's what I do." With a weak chuckle, he added, "It's why I'm paid the big bucks."
"Sorry, sir." Carter's voice was soft with remorse. He glanced at the other men, shrugged. "We forget sometimes."
Hogan sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. "I take what I know, toss in what my gut tells me, and choose. And then I hope that my choice was the right one."
"Can't ask for more than that," Kinch admitted.
LeBeau nodded. "We're behind you, mon colonel."
"And that," Hogan said, a faint grin teasing at his mouth. "Is what makes the days easier to take." He pulled himself upright, the mantle of command again falling heavy upon his shoulders.
"Carter, how's your supply of explosives?"
"Fine, sir. That last shipment has us sitting pretty."
"Good. Set charges in the tunnels. We'll be prepared if I'm wrong about Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum." His gaze went to Kinch. "Get everything together in case we need to destroy it in a hurry. And tell Olsen I want Klink on twenty-four hour watch. See that his calls are monitored, too."
Kinch nodded. Hogan turned to Newkirk, who met his gaze with a serious expression.
"You're in charge of talking to our two guests."
"Sir?" Newkirk squeaked.
Hogan smiled. "Draw them out with that charm you're always telling us about." The Englishman's expression soured. He turned for the door.
"I'd rather wrestle a couple of cobras barehanded," Hogan heard him grumble as he yanked the door open and trudged out of the room.
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"Don't know why I've got to do it," Newkirk grumbled, stomping through the tunnels. "Could have sent Carter. He'd drive them round the twist with his chatter. Have the two of them babbling their life stories like a ruddy brook in no time."
Newkirk came to the room where the Germans were waiting and frowned in surprise. The pair had done exactly what Hogan had suggested. They had made themselves comfortable – so comfortable, that they appeared to have fallen asleep. Both were slouched in chairs, with their heads down and their eyes closed.
Newkirk tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and strolled into the room. Benson and Parker nodded in greeting.
Hermann's eyes popped open, briefly fixed upon Newkirk, then closed again.
Newkirk snagged another chair and swung it around to straddle it. Hermann's eyes opened again and lazily traced his every move. Newkirk smiled thinly, not at all fooled by the laidback response. The German was wide awake and primed to react at the slightest provocation.
As if sensing the heightened tension in the room even in his sleep, Klaus shifted and his eyebrows drew together in a faint frown. Newkirk's gaze snapped to him, then, when there was no further movement, returned to Hermann.
"He always sleep like that?"
"Like what?" Hermann replied in a voice just above a whisper. "In a chair?"
Newkirk gritted his teeth. The German was deliberately toying with him. "He's pretty trusting if he can fall asleep so easily in a strange place, don't you think?"
A dangerous glint appeared in the hooded eyes. "You are the one who needs to think."
Newkirk stopped his initial retort and considered Klaus again. "It's not us he trusts." He pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, took his time lighting one.
Hermann watched for a few moments, then nodded. After a quick glance in Klaus' direction, he left his chair and moved to the other side of the room. Newkirk cast another thoughtful look at the slumbering man, and sauntered after him.
Hermann leaned back against the wall, in what Newkirk was starting to recognize as a favorite position. "He is tired. We both are."
Surprised by the candor, Newkirk said slowly, "I suppose playing cat and mouse with us wouldn't leave much time for sleeping."
"Very little. We have learned to take naps whenever an opportunity arises." Hermann shifted from foot to foot, finally sat on his heels, his back still braced against the wall.
Newkirk shrugged and folded into a seat on the floor close by. He pulled the cigarettes from his pocket again and offered them up. Hermann shook his head, softening the rejection with a murmured, "Danke." Newkirk tucked the pack away and studied his cigarette's glowing tip.
"The two of you known each other long?"
"Some years."
"You both seem like fine up-standing examples of German society. What made you chuck it all and jump sides?"
Hermann's expression went cold. "If Hogan wants information, let him ask the questions himself."
Newkirk felt heat bloom across his face at the same time that he lost his precarious hold on his temper. "Bloody Jerries! You're all paranoid! Ruddy incapable of accepting any show of human kindness or interest. Everything's got to have some hidden reason . . ." He went to stand, but stumbled and fell forward. Hermann's hand flew up in reflex and braced him. Swatting the assistance away, Newkirk strode from the room, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke in his wake.
"You have made another friend," Klaus murmured, cracking an eye open.
Only the crease between Hermann's eyebrows belied his disgust. He shifted his weight, laid his forearms atop his thighs.
"My charm will eventually win him over."
"Your 'charm' just booted him from the room." Klaus yawned and pushed himself upright. His mouth tightened with annoyance as he blinked up at the beamed ceiling. "It is impossible to tell without natural light how long we have been down here. What time is it?"
"You would not need natural light if you wore a watch," Hermann complained in a good-natured growl.
"Why should I when I can make use of yours?"
"Because I am not always with you."
"Then there is the sun and the moon." Klaus' pointed glare traveled from the ceiling to Hermann.
Hermann sighed, pulled back his sleeve, glanced down, and did a double-take. Extending his arm toward Klaus, he said in a flat voice, "Here is a perfect example of why you need your own."
Klaus stared at his friend's bare wrist. A moment later, his laughter rang out in the room's stale air. Hermann's grim expression gradually gave way to a smile. He looked toward the tunnel, chuckling in appreciation of Newkirk's audacity and skill.
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Charming, Peter.
Newkirk stomped to a remote storage area tucked up at the end of one of the tunnels. Very few people visited this room, which was exactly why he had sought it out. Stacks upon stacks of neatly arranged crates of supplies lined the walls, providing a place where he could sit and think things through in private. Picking a crate housing extra blankets, he hopped up onto it and leaned back against the support of another. He pulled out his latest acquisition and rubbed the pad of his thumb across the face of the gold watch.
It's no bloody wonder he caught you out! A shoddier job you couldn't have done, and then you make it worse by lifting his ticker. Right petty thing to do.
His thumb skimmed across tiny, elegant script that flowed across the back of the watch's casing. Lifting the watch higher, he peered closely at the inscription, squinting to read it in the poor light.
-- Son in every way -- .
He stuffed the purloined piece back into his pocket, ignoring the twinge of jealousy evoked by the words.
"Since I was nine."
Newkirk launched off the crate. A shadow separated from the others in the tunnel beyond and stopped just at the edge of the light. Hermann stared at him solemnly, looking remarkably comfortable in the unfamiliar setting. How did he manage to track me down? Newkirk wondered, straightening out of his defensive stance and dropping his hands.
"What does that mean?"
Hermann took another step closer, allowing the light to fall fully upon his face. Benson hung back in the tunnel, maintaining sentry, but apparently unwilling to intrude upon the conversation. Hermann seemed to weigh Newkirk's question carefully, as if trying to decide whether or not to answer.
"Klaus and I have known each other since I was nine."
"School chums, then?"
"Not quite."
Newkirk huffed in frustration. Talking with Carter was easier than this. "Are we talking code? Because I forgot to bring my code book." Coldness flashed across Hermann's features. If Newkirk hadn't been watching, he would have missed it.
"His family took me into their home to live with them when I was nine."
"Two kids not enough for them, eh?"
Hermann regarded him steadily for a few moments. "The details are personal and not up for discussion. What I will tell you is that they fed me, gave me a place to sleep, saw that I was educated, treated me as if I were family. And before you ask, the reasons that Klaus and I want to join the Resistance are also personal." His gaze sharpened. "May I ask you a question?"
"That's fair."
"Do you love your country?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"Do you love your country?" Hermann repeated calmly.
"Of course I do!" Newkirk hissed through clenched teeth.
"And I love mine." Hermann glided closer. "In this, we are no different. You want your homeland and your loved ones safe. So do I. You wish to keep your freedom. So do I. You want Hitler defeated or dead. So do I. He dishonors Germany; his atrocities sicken me. As long as he is in power there will be no peace. To the last drop of my blood and with my last breath, I will fight against him and all that he stands for."
Newkirk had seen and done a lot of acting in his time. The passion in Hermann's voice had been genuine.
"Then you've come to the right place, mate."
Faint laugh lines appeared at the corners of Hermann's eyes. "Of that I have no doubt . . . mate."
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Dawn was breaking and Stalag 13 was stirring to life by the time Hogan and Kinch reappeared in Klaus and Hermann's temporary quarters. Hermann got to his feet an instant before Klaus came out of his chair. The four of them met in the middle of the room, Hogan and Klaus standing opposite of each other.
Hogan smiled, remembering London's jubilant transmission. "Scratch one convoy."
"What a nice start to the day." Klaus pulled down the jacket that had bunched around his waist while he slept.
Hermann yawned and stretched until his fingertips brushed the tunnel ceiling. "Are we free to leave?"
"Yeah," Hogan said. "Benson and Parker will see you out."
Klaus hesitated at the doorway. "When shall we meet again?"
"I'll be in touch. And gentlemen? Don't call us, we'll call you."
Once they had left, Hogan glanced toward a third tunnel. Newkirk slid into view, dressed in civilian clothing. He nodded to Hogan and silently followed after them.
"Well," Hogan sighed, turning for the barracks. "There they go. For better or worse."
Kinch fell in beside him. "Words from the marriage vows, Colonel? It's a good thing Newkirk didn't hear you. He'd be heading the other way at a dead run."
Hogan's grin quickly faded. "Let's hope this isn't a match made in hell, buddy."
To be continued . . .