Chapter Eleven
Blinking and yawning, Hogan pulled himself over the bunk frame and into the barracks. Within seconds, he was surrounded by men in varying degrees of wakefulness, all of them clamoring for details about his elegant supper meeting. LeBeau was at the front of the group, pestering for information about the restaurant itself; the food, the decor, the prices.
Hogan slumped against the bunk frame. His silence and the uncharacteristic show of weariness finally registered and their questions died down.
"Thank you," Hogan sighed. His time with Tiger had been wonderful. But fatigue was catching up to him, making itself known in the form of a headache.
"We've got a new mission," Hogan said tiredly, shuffling into his quarters with his men at his heels. "And it's going to take some fancy maneuvering to pull it off."
"Don't they all?" Newkirk quipped out of one side of his mouth, appearing well-rested again.
Hogan gingerly shrugged out of his jacket. Even the slight movement aggravated the throbbing in his head. His wince didn't go unnoticed.
"Headache?" Kinch asked quietly, taking the jacket from him.
Hogan dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand. He tossed his cap on the top bunk, uncaring of where it landed. "Tiger had quite a tale to tell."
After filling them in on what he had learned, he told them his idea. "With a little work, we could replace von Rogner with Leidel."
The clamor of protest went up right on cue. Hogan endured the babble for a few moments, before wearily waving his hand to get their attention. Gradually, the noise died away. He looked at them, his vision blurring.
"He may be a wildcard -"
"Huh," LeBeau grunted. "Joker, I say."
Hogan's bloodshot eyes dared him to interrupt again. "But," he continued, once LeBeau's gaze had lowered. "Leidel's close to the same size as von Rogner and he's got that photographic memory. No cameras to smuggle in; no film to worry about; no searches to avoid. And keep in mind that Klink's still walking around like a love-sick moose and nobody's beating down the gates to take us in. Business as usual."
Blessed silence. Hogan eased down onto his bunk, anticipating sleep. The thin mattress felt like the softest goose down.
"Kinch, get on the horn to London. Tell them we need everything they can give us on von Rogner. And I mean everything: his service record, his likes, dislikes, habits, girl friends, family, where he went to school, etc., etc. We can't count on getting the information from him. Tell them no detail is too small and we need it all by morning roll call. If they squawk, tell them to keep it on file for my courtmartial."
Kinch nodded.
"Newkirk, LeBeau, get ready to do some quick tailoring. Also, Leidel's gonna need a dye job. Von Rogner's hair is dark brown, not auburn. He'll need a mustache, too. Dark brown. Neatly trimmed. Like this." He traced the shape of the mustache along his own lip while Newkirk watched closely.
"What about me, Colonel?" Carter asked.
Hogan hesitated, listened to his instincts. He nodded, giving Carter a grin to show his approval. "It never hurts to be prepared. Get some of your standard, all-purpose fireworks ready in case we need them. Something easy to carry, easy to hide and place in hurry, but packing a hefty punch. Better have some timers ready, too."
Carter grinned and bounced on his heels. The energetic motion wore on Hogan's already sore nerves. He lay back on his bunk, too tired to even bother putting his pajamas on.
"That's it for now, fellas." His eyes had already closed when he commanded in a sleepy drawl, "I'll fill you in on the rest later."
He was fast asleep before the door had closed behind them.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
All too soon, LeBeau was shaking Hogan awake. He went through the motions of shaving, hoping he didn't cut his throat in the process. The wrinkled uniform was exchanged for a fresh one, and he congratulated himself on getting everything on correctly. By the time he took his place in rank for morning roll call, he was finally, fully alert, and thinking ahead to the long list of jobs needing to be accomplished before nightfall. He caught Kinch's attention and lifted an eyebrow. Nodding, Kinch slipped his hand out of his pocket just far enough for Hogan to glimpse folded paper. Facing forward again, he came nose to nose with Schultz. Startled out of his count, Schultz stared at him open-mouthed, one finger still raised in the air.
"Fünfzehn," Hogan whispered helpfully. "All present and accounted for, Schultz." Taking him by the shoulders, Hogan twirled him about and sent him toward Klink with a firm shove. Schultz gained momentum and trotted off.
Hogan tapped his foot impatiently while Klink rambled inanities. After several minutes, Hogan peeked at his watch.
"Am I keeping you from something, Hogan?" Klink inquired sarcastically.
"As a matter of fact, you are." Hogan tried not to sigh when Klink's expression grew stormy and he walked over.
"You look a bit tired, Colonel." Klink's voice reeked of insincerity. "You should slow down. Perhaps a nice long rest in the cooler might help."
Hogan's jaw tightened. He was in no mood for verbal jousting. "Weren't you telling me the other day that you were hoping Fraulein Leidel would join you for dinner again? It sure would be a shame if LeBeau forgot how to cook."
Klink swallowed hard and tucked his chin, his hand twisting his riding crop nervously in the crook of his arm.
"It was merely a suggestion, Hogan," Klink chuckled weakly. "You really should learn to take these things with more humor." He saluted, bellowed, "Diss-missed!" and strode back to his office.
Trading barbs at Klink's expense, the men gathered around Hogan. Kinch cautiously glanced around, slipped the paper to Hogan.
"That's everything London could dig up on von Rogner."
Hogan tucked the paper into his jacket pocket and shook the morning stiffness from his shoulders. "Okay, here's what we're going to do." Draping his arms across LeBeau and Carter's shoulders, he quickly outlined the plan and assigned tasks. After listening intently and asking a few questions, they dispersed to fulfill his orders.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
"Schultz! Hey, Schultz!"
Schultz glanced over his shoulder, sighted Hogan and Carter hurrying toward him, and took off in the other direction as if the guard dogs were nipping at his heels. It was a futile effort. Hogan and Carter easily caught up and passed him. They jumped into his path and stood shoulder to shoulder, forcing him to stop. He planted the butt of his rifle in the dirt at his feet, rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance.
"This is your lucky day," Hogan proclaimed.
Schultz's head tilted forward and his narrowed eyes took on a doubtful gleam. "Lucky?"
"Yeah, Schultzie," Carter said from Hogan's right, claiming Schultz's attention. "It's a good thing we caught it."
Schultz looked from one to the other. "Caught . . . what?" he asked slowly.
Hogan hitched his thumb toward the motor pool. "The sad condition of Klink's staff car. The gunk hasn't been cleaned out of the carburetor in ages. Lucky for you we realized that it was overdue."
"What is . . . ?" Schultz's voice trailed off as his eyes suddenly fixed upon the heavy overcoats that hung past their knees. He looked up and hesitantly asked, "Why are you wearing coats?"
Hogan shivered theatrically. "It's cold out here this morning. You don't want us to get sick, do you?"
Hunching his shoulders about his ears, Carter emulated Hogan's shiver, clapped his hands against his arms and stamped his feet in place.
Schultz stared at them as if they were crazy. His own uniform was heavily stained with sweat from the warm weather. Before he could argue the point, Hogan cut him off.
"About that gunk, Schultz. It's bad stuff. You really need to get rid of it. And the only way to do that is to take it out on the open road and let 'er rip." Schultz's mouth opened, but this time Carter beat him to the punch.
"See, the gunk builds up inside the engine, this ooey-gooey crud, getting thicker and thicker and ooier and gooier, and then the pistons get sticky so they can't move up and down and then before you know it, you got trouble. Lots and lots of trouble, boy, let me tell you. You could be hauling some hoity-toity officer around -- " Carter shot an apologetic look at Hogan. "No offense, sir."
Hogan raised his eyebrows and shrugged, accepting the apology.
"When the engine locks up -- WHAM! -- and there you are stuck on the side of the road with that officer breathing fire down your neck and threatening you with a trip to the Russian Front!"
The single, emphatic nod of Carter's head put an exclamation point on the warning. Schultz, eyes glazed over and mouth hanging open, looked helplessly at Hogan.
"He's right, Schultz. We gotta get it out before it gets worse. And we'll help you do it."
They took Schultz by the arms and started leading him to the motor pool. Dizzy from the tag team explanation and from trying to understand the concept of "gunk", Schultz meekly went along.
He drove out of camp after tersely explaining the reason for his drive to the guards at the gate. Hogan and Carter stayed neatly tucked out of sight beneath some blankets on the floorboards behind him. When they reached a stretch of open road and Schultz was about to accelerate to a higher speed, Hogan threw off the blanket and popped upright.
"Stop!"
Schultz slammed on the brakes. The wheels locked and the car skidded to a stop. The smell of freshly churned dirt filled the car's interior. Schultz's head whipped toward the backseat.
"Colonel Hogan? Is it the gunk?"
"Yeah. I think we're too late," sighed Hogan, resting his arms atop the back of the seat. Carter appeared beside him and nodded sadly.
"Can't you hear it?" Carter's expression grew even more woeful.
Schultz cocked his head, listening for the sound gunk made. His eyes darted from side to side. They eventually came to rest upon his two passengers.
"The engine sounds fine to me."
Hogan and Carter shared a wide-eyed look and then Hogan chuckled and slapped Schultz on the shoulder.
You're kidding, right?" Hogan jumped out of the car on one side while Carter got out on the other. They met at the front bumper. Hogan leaned over the hood and listened carefully. After a few moments, he pointed down at the engine. "There it is again!"
Schultz strained forward over the steering wheel, trying once again to detect the sound. His face screwed up in confusion.
"It's gotten worse just since we left camp," Carter said sorrowfully. "Boy, that's too bad." His gaze fixed upon the staff car's hood as if picturing the damage being done. He shook his head and chewed on his bottom lip with feigned distress.
Schultz climbed awkwardly from behind the wheel and joined them. "I still hear nothing."
Hogan looked from Schultz to the car and back. "Maybe if you move over here." He took Schultz by the arm and guided him to the side of the road. "Like this."
Doubtful but willing to give it a try, Schultz listened hard. A few seconds later, he snorted. "You are both hearing things." He started back to the car, muttering under his breath, "Jolly jokers."
Carter darted into his path and planted his feet. Schultz stopped, belly bumping Carter backward into the middle of the road. Arms pin-wheeling, Carter managed not to land on his back. Recovering his balance, he tugged his coat straight and hurried back.
"Try closing your eyes. You can concentrate better that way."
Dutifully, Schultz followed the advice, brow scrunched from the effort of listening.
Hogan and Carter slowly backed away, shedding their overcoats as they went. Both wore SS uniforms.
Unaware of anything out of the ordinary, Shultz shook his head again and frowned heavily, completely mystified. "I hear nothing."
Carter paused at the driver's door. Cupping his hand to his mouth, he called back, "The wind is carrying the sound in the other direction! Try turning your head!" He ducked into the car while Hogan slid into the back seat.
Schultz tilted his head to the left as instructed.
Hogan rolled down the window. "The other way!"
Schultz's head swung in the other direction and continued to listen. After a few seconds, he flung his hands into the air, yelling to be heard over the revving engine.
"IT IS FINE, COLONEL HOGAN!"
Realization hit Schultz at the exact moment that a thick cloud of exhaust hit his face. His eyes flew open in time to see the car - with Hogan and Carter in it - speeding away without him. He took off after them, bellowing at the top of his lungs.
"COLONEL HOGAN!! COLONEL HO-O-O-G-A-A-A-N!!! PLE-E-E-EASE, COLONEL HOGAN?!?"
Letting out a pitiful whimper, Schultz staggered to a stop in the middle of the road. He bent over, wheezing for breath, his hands braced upon his knees, and stared after the rapidly disappearing car.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Risa was a woman on a mission.
She had woken early that morning with a single thought in mind. For once, Klaus and Hermann were going to eat something other than the baker's crullers for breakfast. If given the chance, the two men would eat crullers for every meal. Her mother - if she were still alive - would be horrified at the utter disregard for proper diet. Germany may be at war, but Risa was determined to keep Klaus and Hermann well fed. She knew that Klaus had eaten one proper meal at Klink's party. Hermann, though, had probably been eating crullers and little else. She simply could not understand how they managed to stay in such good physical condition.
As the daughter of a general of the Third Reich, she understood that what she was about to do wasn't normally allowed. But she wasn't going to let that stop her.
Head up, back straight, she walked into Wehrmacht headquarters, uncomfortably aware of the commotion her appearance caused. Not for the first time, she wished that she had been born with a plainer appearance. Too often, the looks that she received from men made her skin crawl. There was cruelty in those stares and a need to possess that left her frightened and uncomfortable. She longed for the loving glances that had passed between her parents until the day death had come between them. Those glances had held a deep, abiding love. That was what she hoped to sense in a man's gaze; not the lascivious leers that often followed whenever she passed.
Tightening her grip on the basket's handle, she approached the guard seated at the front desk and stated her business. After a quick peek beneath the cloth at the basket's contents, he gave her directions and hastily offered to take her to her destination, himself. With a demure smile and murmured thanks, she told him that an escort would not be necessary. He tried to change her mind, but she simply smiled and waited. He finally gave up and pointed out the correct direction. She strode away, sensing his watchful stare behind her.
The clock in the square was just chiming nine when she entered the spacious room with its high ceilings and peeling paint. She paused for a moment inside the doorway, momentarily taken aback by the noise and bustle.
Her presence was immediately noticed. Heads turned. Conversation quieted and movement about the room slowed and in some places, stopped altogether. Uncomfortable yet determined, Risa held firmly to her smile and moved into the room. Relief swept over her when Klaus pushed through the men to meet her.
"What are you doing here?" he whispered fiercely, taking the basket and guiding her toward his desk.
"Is this the greeting you have for me?" She asked, keeping her voice down. From the corner of her eye she saw a young-looking sergeant gawp at her. He stumbled over his own feet and ended up in an awkward sprawl across a desk. She pursed her lips, curbing her laughter.
"It is when you are somewhere you are not supposed to be," Klaus rumbled. He glowered at the soldier draped like a blanket over the desk. "Wentzel!" The menace in his voice lifted the unfortunate soldier to his feet. Wentzel's arm whipped up in salute and locked in position.
Klaus' eyes narrowed, anger clipping his words. "That will be all, Wentzel."
The young man fled for safer parts. Risa felt a fit of giggles coming on and bit down on her lip.
Hermann stood nearby, staring at her with a stunned expression. He jerked as if coming out of a daze and rolled out his chair for her. She accepted the gallantry with a smile and nod of thanks and sat down while he held the chair steady.
Over her head, Hermann and Klaus locked eyes, then glanced worriedly at Dinske's closed door. Their commander was inside his office, immersed in paperwork. Should he tire of it and venture outside, he would immediately discover Risa's presence. Klaus and Hermann would do whatever possible to keep that from happening. Besides being arrogant and sadistic, Dinske had a lecherous nature. A very tenacious, lecherous nature.
With precision coordination, they moved to block her from Dinske's line of sight.
"I have brought you some breakfast." Risa lifted the square of cloth from the basket Klaus had placed on the desk, revealing its contents. The faint aroma of warm bread wafted into the air. "There is bread and a bit of cheese. It isn't much, but --"
"Risa," Klaus began. Risa put him off by depositing a slice of bread in his hand. He huffed in exasperation and dumped it back into the basket. "You really should not --"
Hermann softly cleared his throat. "It's not safe for you to -- " She headed him off by producing another slice of bread and dropping it in his palm. He stared at it, then sighed and took a bite. Her smile of approval faded as she looked closer at their faces. Dark circles hung below their eyes and both men looked wan.
"You look terrible! Both of you! Are you sick?"
Klaus surreptitiously checked the room and for the first time she noticed that conversation around them had all but ceased. He took her arm and leaned over her.
"Risa, please. We're fine. This was very nice and it is always good to see you, but you must go now. Please."
Hermann edged closer. "I'll see you out," he prompted quietly, putting down the bread and offering his hand.
Rebellion surged through her. She glared up into his hazel eyes. Her words stuck in her throat and a feeling of unreality washed over her. There, in his eyes, was what she had longed for and had never thought to see. Surely the love and devotion had not been there before? How could she have been so blind?
Slowly, she placed her hand in Hermann's and allowed him to help her from the chair. His grip was strong, but infinitely gentle, as if he were holding one of her mother's delicate china cups. She looked down, suddenly fascinated by his hand, easily twice the size of her own.
"Risa?" His voice held a puzzled note and she looked up, giving him a smile.
"I am fine, Hermann."
His smile was brilliant, making his eyes appear to glow. She felt twin spots of heat spring to her cheeks.
She walked with him without complaint, completely oblivious now to the crowd of admiring men.
She bid Hermann good-bye at the door, reassuring him that she needed no escort home. She floated down the steps and started down the Villagestrassa, her thoughts full of wonder. A voice called her out of her daze. Looking up, she saw Frau Hinkel bustling toward her. The elderly woman, her scarf blowing back from her head, reached Risa's side and took a firm hold of her arm. Risa mentally cringed. Frau Hinkel had once been her neighbor. Sweet-natured but nosy, she had seemingly made it her solemn duty to match Risa with any unattached male she laid her eyes upon. And there had been quite a few. The steady stream of men at Risa's door had been one of the very reasons she had moved into her present apartment.
Risa put on a smile and awaited another gentle interrogation.
Frau Hinkel's bony fingers remained locked on Risa's arm, anchoring her in place. She chattered merrily away in her reedy voice about the latest news, every so often inserting a probing question. Risa deflected each one and tried to steer the conversation toward other topics. But Frau Hinkel was not to be swayed and continued interspersing local gossip with searching questions into Risa's love life.
Risa was half-listening to another commentary regarding the outrageous prices at the local grocery when her attention was drawn to a staff car pulling up to Wehrmacht headquarters. Thinking nothing of it, she was about to look away when the car's door opened and a man got out. He paused upon the sidewalk and adjusted his gloves. Risa stared hard him, certain that she had seen him before. Possibly he had been a patron at Max's bar? She suddenly put a name to the face and almost squeaked in surprise.
He looks older, but...!
Before he could turn and see her, she gently removed her arm from Frau Hinkel's clutches and ducked into the narrow entryway of one of the shops. Frau Hinkel's monologue never even paused. Still talking, she crammed into the narrow opening with Risa.
Peeking around the corner of the doorway, Risa watched Hogan briskly climb the steps into the headquarters and disappear inside. With Frau Hinkel still happily chattering away at her side, she settled in to wait. Only an air raid had a chance of moving her from the spot now.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
"Have you filed that report on Thursday's patrol in the eighth sector?"
Not receiving an answer, Klaus glanced up. Hermann, pale and still, was staring fixedly toward the doorway. Slowly, trying not to appear unnatural, Klaus swiveled his chair in that direction.
There, striding into the room as if he owned the building; was Hogan. He cut an imposing figure in the clean lines of the SS uniform, which bore an impressive array of medals and ribbons. The sleek salt and pepper mustache and wings of silver at his temples added to his aura of authority, but did little in hiding his true identity; at least to the two of them. Activity ceased. Soldiers snapped to attention where they stood. Exchanging an incredulous glance with Hermann, Klaus quickly stood and the two of them braced to attention, arms automatically rising in salute to a superior officer.
Hogan marched past them and straight to Dinske's office. Without even pausing to knock, he flung the door open and went inside, slamming the door behind him.
Hermann's gaze slid to Klaus and he cocked an eyebrow. Klaus merely shook his head and went back to his paperwork.
They would find out soon enough what subterfuge Hogan was up to.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
"You have two men," Hogan drawled, wiping a white-gloved finger across the surface of Dinske's desk. "that I am here to borrow, for lack of a better word." His eyes slowly lifted from his smudged finger to Dinske's face. "They have been chosen to be a part of a special task force commissioned by the Führer, himself. Once they have completed their assignment, they will be returned to you." The corner of his mouth swept upward in a glacial grin. "That is, if they live."
Dinske braced to attention, his oily complexion made even oilier by sweat.
"We are honored, Field Marshal -- "
"Jah, jah, jah," Hogan sighed, leisurely wiping his glove on Dinske's uniform. "As you should be. The Führer has been most impressed by the records of these men. They are exactly the type of men he desires for this very important business."
"I hand-pick my men and take extreme pride in recruiting only the best. If there is anything that I can do to help -- "
"This is a matter of utmost secrecy," Hogan snapped. "You are to say nothing of it to anyone, nor will you ask questions. As soon as we leave here today, you will forget everything that has occurred and everything that has been said. Should word get back to me that you have been talking, I shall escort you to the firing squad myself, and personally dump your worthless carcass at the Führer's feet."
He inched closer until he was staring deeply into Dinske's eyes. "Do you understand?"
Dinske shrank away as far as he could without actually moving his feet.
"All will be done as you direct, Herr Field Marshal."
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Klaus and Hermann's heads came up as Dinske's office door opened. The colonel, looking particularly pasty and sweaty, walked out. Hogan strolled out after him, his features set in apparent boredom.
Klaus and Hermann rose to their feet in a show of respect. Dinske's voice carried a slight tremor as he made the introductions.
"This is Field Marshal Janson -- "
"You have both been chosen for a mission of honor. You will come with me," Hogan purred, interrupting. "Now."
Klaus frowned, not wanting to appear too eager. "We are indeed honored, Herr Field Marshal. But we don't understand."
"Nor do you need to!" The crop slapped against Hogan's leg. Dinske flinched, shoulders hunching. "Your only concern from this moment is to follow my orders! Without question!"
The double-meaning registered clearly and Klaus' frown became genuine. Hogan wanted them to obey as if he truly were their commander! Klaus forced a nod. Hermann' head bowed, signaling his own understanding and acceptance. Hogan's expression relaxed minutely. He turned and headed for the exit without bothering to see if they were following.
Klaus and Hermann saluted a shaken Dinske and hurried after him.
Once in the privacy of Klink's staff car, Klaus cleared his throat and turned to Hogan.
"You said that you'd be in touch, but don't you think that you might have overdone it just a bit?"
A smile briefly lightened Hogan's expression. "Surprised to see me?"
"Was the drama necessary?" Hermann's question was sharp with annoyance.
Hogan stared for a moment out the window of the car. When he turned back, he was completely serious. "We've got a mission for you. The 'drama', as you put it, was to establish why you'd be gone for awhile. Once this mission is over, you'll be able return to your duties without arousing suspicion or being required to answer a lot of awkward questions."
Klaus nodded in approval. "Extravagant but effective."
"Story of my career."
"What is this mission?" Hermann demanded.
"I'll fill you in when we get back to camp."
Klaus leaned back with a drawn out sigh. "More drama."
To be continued . . .