Within the Stalag 13 Recreation Hall, a multitude of storage closets were present, and while some held worn down equipment of all sorts, one stood out in particular. Within said storage closet, one could find a multitude of instruments, procured months earlier for a performance which had never occurred...
Funnily enough, no one at camp remembered what happened on that day. Some made it a point to avoid that storage closet, lest they think they remembered something that was only in their imagination... obviously. Of these people who knew nothing, the one who knew the most of nothing was not the normal person who coined the phrase, but rather his commanding officer, who absolutely knew nothing, especially with regards towards the possible sighting of a certain Countess flying an aircraft.
Such things did not happen... no, could not happen in the most secure Luftstalag in all of Germany. The very thought of such an incident happening was unthinkable, and such rumors of course had to be shot down with extreme prejudice (namely with threats of hearing sleigh bells far east).
So when the sight of his American counterpart, with his crush cap on, pulling out the kettle and snare drums from the closet met the eyes of Wilhelm Klink, almost immediately he opted to know nothing.
There were more important things to do than worry about whatever the insufferable drummer turned Colonel was up to, like wondering how to make sure that the party went perfectly to plan... but then again... he had Hogan add onto that equation.
Hogan... Hogan... Hogan...
I'm going to need more than just schnapps. Klink thought has he rushed his way back to his office, ever so keen of keeping Hogan at the very least out of his line of sight for the time being.
HH
When the Repertoire for the party had finally arrived, one of the most interesting combinations of musical genres was laid out right before Hogan's eyes. Many of the songs and pieces he knew of course, but the shear amount of material that was offered was astounding. Not only that, but much of the music itself spanned over so many other genres...
Jazz, Big Band, Classical, Salon, Marches, Dance Music... Even songs and pieces created by those below the "master race"...
Anything and everything was included in the Songbook that was provided... and if that wasn't enough... when the General's aide arrived with the sheet music that was to go along with it, one would've thought an entire archive was being driven into Stalag 13.
What he had managed to assemble however, was something even more astounding than the boatload of music he had just received.
If he wanted to, he could have an entire symphony orchestra, an added choir to go along with it (courtesy of the Glee Club of Stalag 13), and a dance routine to go added along as well. Sure there was the one Sergeant from Milwaukee that could somehow play the harpsichord, but then there were some airmen who knew how to play the piano, some played brass and woodwind in the marching band, and of few others (namely from the English side of camp) did dabble within the realm of string music.
But even then, that didn't add onto the others who knew dances, who could sing and perform, or just knew how to do something at the very least musical or expressive. In fact, were so many hidden talents within Stalag 13, Hogan had to have Stalag 13's administrative talent (mainly composed of ground crews captured in Poland and France) set up an entire queue outside the recreation hall in order to get every man who had something documented and sorted.
Suddenly, Stalag 13, instead of feeling more like a casual place or at the very least an actual prison camp, had begun to feel like a military base, simply due to the sheer amount of administrative work needed to get everything organized.
Corporal Polonski from Barracks 12 had even reported to him that he caught some of the guards just staring at them all as they worked to get everything set up and begin practicing. That wasn't even discounting the rumors that Langenscheidt and a few other guards set up a betting pool regarding what they thought would happen next.
What was Stalag 13 even coming to anymore?
HH
A duty of a General is to supervise, and perform his duty to his utmost ability. And then of course there were a few added duties... some recreational... some tedious and annoying... and then some both.
In the case of what Albert Burkhalter had to deal with now... well... he was no stranger to having to handle a mess coming from Stalag 13, either from Klink or Hogan's end on that part. But when he saw what had come in from requisitions for Stalag 13, he wasn't even angry. He was confused.
And Albert Burkhalter becoming genuinely confused was one of the hardest things to cause, and somehow, one Luftstalag managed to do that with one piece (or rather stack) of papers. He hadn't even thought of directly calling and raising hell with Klink the moment he saw the first paper. It had truly left him speechless.
It wouldn't be until a few hours later, after quite a few "medicinal" drinks of whatever alcohol he could find, that he finally picked up the phone and called Klink.
HH
"Colonel, someone's calling Klink." Kinch said.
"Well, looks like someone is a bit late."
HH
"Stalag 13, Kommandant Klink speaking, how may I help you?"
"Klink..." A slightly slurred voice called out from the other end.
"Hello, who is this?"
"Klink... shut up..." A lightbulb soon popped up over a bald man's head.
"Ah... General Burkhalter! What a pleasure to hear from yo-"
"KLINK! WHY HAVE I GOTTEN A REQUISITION FORM FOR AN ENTIRE SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA!"
"G-g-general... I sent you a report regarding it. I requisitioned the instruments and wrote to the red cross for the dress uniforms for General Von Meyer's part-"
"I DO NOT CARE ABOUT GENERAL VON MEYER'S PARTY. WHY DID YOU-..."
"General Burkhalter... hello?"
"Klink... what dress uniforms?"
HH
"Hogan, I do not have time anything. I have already sent off the list for the damned instruments. Now would you please leave me alone so I can get done with General Burkhalter's paperwork. After what you've done today I don't want to have to deal with that tub of lard breathing down my neck."
"Don't worry Kommandant, I won't take up anymore of your time." Hogan said.
"Good, then you can leave."
"There is one thing though." Klink's face dropped even further than it was already at before.
"Well, you see... me and the men are wondering what we will be wearing for the party. I mean, we can't come in wearing the clothes we were shot down in."
"Hogan, I have already taken care of that. I have contacted the Red Cross and they are in the process of bringing in Dress Uniforms for all the men participating, along with any decorations they have earned."
"All the men participating, as in within the performance or those in camp."
"Hogan, what do you think? I can only do so mu-"
"Kommandant, every man in this camp is participating in this little escapade of yours just so you can come out looking good."
"Hogan..."
"I mean, think how dejected the men will be. I mean, I understand we are all cowed prisoners and such but our moral is important too."
"Hogan, what do you think I can do right now? There are hundreds of men in this camp, and I've already had to order near close a mere fraction of that number just for those performing and acting as servers for the night. I can only spend so much through the camp budget and you know that very well."
"Oh yes, and I wonder... how much of that budget goes into planning these parties just so you can hope to get a star on your shoulder."
"HOGAN!"
"Kommandant, I will give it to you straight. You know I have always been honest with you," Klink scowled at that, "and I will tell you this. We always go the extra mile for you and at the very least, giving a man his dress uniform will go a long way, even if he is a prisoner of war."
"But where will they put them? How will they keep them clean? Your damned bombing raids make your own lives harder and you know that very well." Klink stated.
"I do know that, don't think I don't think of that everyday. My men are my responsibility, same as your men are to you." Hogan agreed. "But you and I both know very well the lengths to which a soldier will go to keep at the very least his dress uniform spotless, even if he is about to be shot and thrown into a pit, or is starving and is about to take his last breath.
So at the very least, for all we have done for you and your pride and vanity, let us have this one thing. And you have my word, as both an officer and a gentlemen, that the party for your friend will have the best entertainment on this side of the Rhine."
Hogan stared at Klink, the glare in his eyes never faltering. Klink was staring back to, but even then, for as hard as the look he gave was, Hogan could see the gears in Klink's mind turning... that old Prussian sense of honor and dignity returning.
5 minutes later, another form was sent out to the Red Cross for the procurement of dress uniforms, amending the previous order sent out. And with it, a weird form of respect had come with it.
For one of the only times during that period of the war, Colonel Wilhelm Klink was awarded a proper salute from his American counterpart. A funny thing what old traditions can do to influence one's decisions.