Hi, my dear readers,

Thank you so much for the feedback I received. I'm happy that you like the story so far.

As mentioned in the last chapter, this one is going to be funny and sweet – even if Hogan's men, Schultz and his comrades, and Hochstetter are assuming the worst concerning the two colonels.

Enjoy,

Love

Yours Starflight

Chapter 5 – A restless night

Langenscheidt stared horrified at the still smoking remains of the vehicles and motorcycles which had once been the convoy. Two burnt corpses could be seen among the rest of the bikes and three dead SS-guards lying nearby – the snow was only beginning to cover them and the tracks the salvos had ripped into the ground.

There was nothing else that could be recognized – not among the heaps of melted metal that once had been the cars. Deep inside glowing metal was still shimmering and it was too hot to go near the sad remains. Despite the icy and therefore fresh wind it reeked of burnt grease, oil and rubber.

One of the guards stepped beside Langenscheidt. "What do you think? Did they make it?"

"A few of them certainly. But Klink and Hogan?" Karl kicked frustratedly into the snow and pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment. "I don't know, Christoph. I have no clue." He glanced back at the truck they came with. "Let us return to the camp. Hans certainly will call Hochstetter's office again. Maybe the survivors have already shown up and we will learn what has become of our Kommandant and the colonel."

Sighing he wrapped his arms around himself and headed for the truck; filled with dread because of the news he would have to tell Schultz – and Hogan's men…

*** HH *** HH ***

The door closed behind Wolfgang Hochstetter, whose mood had reached the level of zero – despite the fact that he thought his nemesis dead. Even the prospect of never having to deal with Klink again didn't cheer him up. He was too cold for more than one positive thought.

Shivering, with chattering teeth and rubbing his arms he went for his desk – barking at a sergeant to bring him hot tea with rum. The open fireplace in the well-furnished room was freshly lit and spread warmth through the room, but for Hochstetter it was still too cold.

Damn Americans! To attack his convoy! Who had they thought they were ambushing? Hitler? This was a casual prisoner transport and not the travel of a staff-officer.

Well, it hadn't been a casual prisoner transport – after all the prisoner had been Colonel Hogan, top-spy, saboteur and assumed Underground-agent 'Papa Bear'.

The thought of his nemesis being dead brought the smirk back to his face. The Allies had eliminated one of their own best men.

Unfortunately for them, fortunately for the Third Reich!

Finally, this permanent thorn in his side was no more.

And that Klink had perished, too, was additional luck.

For this he would suffer a long walk through snow and ice again.

"Major, your tea," the sergeant said as he stepped into the office.

"Thank you," Hochstetter nodded and gestured towards the left side of his desk, where the open fireplace was. He would try to get warm before he would use one of the makeshift beds just down the floor. It was too late to return to the little flat he had rented nearby, after all duty would start in a few hours again. And, by the way, he didn't want to set a foot outside as long as the snowstorm raged. Fresh uniforms were in the headquarters anyway, so there was no need to go home to change.

"Sir, we had called Stalag 13 eventually when you didn't show up to ask if you were still there," his underling continued. "Sergeant Schultz asked us to inform him as soon as we gained some news about you and Oberst Klink."

Hochstetter nipped at his tea. "Regrettable Oberst Klink belongs to the victims of the attack – along with Colonel Hogan." He couldn't hide the satisfaction in his voice and there was glee in his piercing eyes.

"Shall we call Stalag 13 and…"

"No, Sergeant, we don't want to startle big old Schultz and take the sleep away from the poor man," the major sneered. "I call him in the morning personally before I have to inform General Burkhalter that his POW-camp needs a new Kommandant. Preferably we'll take the camp over – then we can finally put an end to the mess Stalag 13 is in." He took a deep breath. "And then I call Major Pruhst. I'm certain the news will please him."

*** HH *** HH ***

"You are sure?" Schultz asked quietly. His face was pale, and sorrow had dug wrinkles around his eyes which gave away his sadness. He felt cold, despite the warmth of Klink's office that he occupied.

"If there were survivors, then only a few. Hogan was chained to the staff car as we all saw before the convoy left. Yes, if they had enough time to free him, he maybe got away, but…" He shrugged helplessly. "There was absolutely no proof if he and Klink made it or not."

"What about the others?" No, it didn't interest him what had become of Hochstetter and his men. He loathed the Gestapo and the SS worse than warm beer or over-salted soup, but maybe their fate gave some hints what happened to his superior officer and Hogan.

"No tracks of them. We saw three dead SS-guards – obviously shot – and two burnt corpses between the rest of motor-bikes, but that was all. The snow covered every trace that maybe was left on the ground."

Schultz combed his hand through his white hair; tousling it more than it already was. "If some of them survived, then they would continue their way to Hammelburg. The sergeant, who called me three hours ago, promised me to inform me if Hochstetter or someone else shows up. And until now there was no call." He looked at the telephone as if it was its fault staying silent.

"What shall we do now?" Langenscheidt asked quietly.

"We'll wait until morning. It's too dark and the weather is too bad to take any further action. I try to reach Schnitzer tomorrow. He shall come with a tracker dog. Maybe the barker can find a trace if we give him a personal cloth from Klink and Hogan he can sniff at."

"Right," Langenscheidt nodded. "Permission to go to bed?"

"Dismissed," Schultz murmured. "Try to get some sleep, Karl. I'll do the same – after I concoct what to tell Hogan's boys tomorrow."

*** HH ***

LeBeau pulled the link away from the coffee pot that served them as a little speaker and cursed in French.

"Now we know no more than before," Newkirk snarled. "We have no clue if Hogan still lives or not – and Schultz goes to bed! Unbelievable!"

"To be fair: There is really nothing he could do right now," Kinchloe murmured. "The weather is…" He stopped, as the light began to flicker. For a moment it went out completely, then it came back to life, but much dimmer than before.

"What the hell?" Kinch frowned.

Again, the light flickered and Andrew Carter grimaced. "Did Klink forgot to pay the power bill?"

The lights went out again and remained like that.

"Super!" LeBeau ranted. "Now we can fumble our way to bed."

From outside Schultz' loud voice was heard, swearing in Bavarian and shouting for a technician.

"I ask myself what triggered this power blackout," Baker mused. "The camp has an emergency generator. Shouldn't it cover any failure of the electricity supply?"

"'Made in Germany' isn't what it once was," Newkirk deadpanned, then he turned serious again. "Mates, we've to do something. We can't sit here and wait if the gov'nor shows up again or not. What if he's injured and is lying somewhere outside in the woods? He could die by morning."

"And how do you want to find him?" Kinch asked; staying reasonable. "We've a snowstorm raging, it's dark like as a closed mine and we've no clue where the attack against the convoy happened exactly. As much as I hate it, but we've no other choice than to wait – and to hope that the colonel is still alive and somewhere safe."

*** HH *** HH ***

Hogan didn't know what exactly woke him up, but suddenly the fog of sleep freed him and he was thrown back into reality. A reality he didn't know what to make of.

First, he realized that he wasn't alone in bed but was pressed against someone – someone tall and obviously not female. The next thing he recognized was the howling of a storm outside, the foreign smell of the bedding and… One moment, was he naked? And his companion, too?

Groggily he opened his eyes and blinked into the dim light of a single petroleum lamp that was placed on a desk nearby. This wasn't his quarters. To tell the truth, it didn't look the tiniest bit like any chamber in Stalag 13, yet the balding head directly beside him was unmistakable.

How did he end up with Klink in one and the same bed in a strange room?

Then the memories returned – and with a groan Hogan closed his eyes again. He felt an unpleasant stinging deep in his throat and a rough pressure in his nose. Superb! The question if he had caught a cold was answered: He had!

He pulled the blankets higher as he only now sensed that the air had cooled down again. Lifting his head, he peeked over Klink's sleeping form towards the oven and instantly missed the soft golden glow that was previously had been beneath the furnace door. In other words: The fire had died. He looked at his watch and saw that it was in the middle of the night. By morning the temperature within the room would drop a lot if he didn't restart the fire.

Sighing, he began to unwrap himself from his bed-companion and the blankets, climbed carefully over the Oberst and tip toed on bare feet to the oven to lit up a new fire. Taking some chopped wood from the basket Frau Obermayer had left, he quickly began his work.

Suddenly he heard movements behind him and looked back over his shoulder. Klink had shifted in his sleep and seemed to tense; his face showed a frown. 'You have your own weights to carry, Willie, don't you?' Hogan thought not without sympathy. You could question Klink's competence as a commanding officer, but he took his duty seriously – a duty that became more and more difficult to attend. It was no miracle that the man had nightmares; especially after a disaster like what happened during the last hours.

He returned to his task, and only when the flames were dancing again in the oven, Hogan rose and checked on his and Klink's clothes. The thinner materials had dried by now, but the boots and pants were still damp, as were the jackets. Placing them nearer to the oven, Hogan hoped that they would be completely dry by morning. It would be more than uncomfortable to slip into half-damp clothes and footwear again.

Turning around he met the groggy, half-closed eyes of his German counterpart, who moistened his lips and looked sleepily up at him – frowning suddenly again. Hogan sighed and waited for the inevitable sputtering and lamenting about decency and modesty. As vain as Klink was, the American simply took him for a prudish man who certainly was ashamed to show others more than his bare underarms – except if he was forced to take a shower in a communal bathroom like the one in London a few months ago, as they had been there on an undercover-mission to steal a new P51-aricraft.

The colonel couldn't know how wrong he was – at least in this special case.

Klink had been deeply asleep, yet it wasn't a peaceful rest. His subconscious still processed everything he had been through within the last hours – he and the man who held his heart. He was too exhausted to have real nightmares, but fragments of voices and pictures had begun to haunt him, as something pierced his sleep and brought him back to conscious.

He felt warm and comfortable while lying on something soft. He also thought he could feel strong arms around him but while his still sleep-fogged mind needed some time to work with the information, he felt those arms leaving him before someone climbed over him and the mattress he obviously laid on, moved.

Still he needed a minute or two more to gain full consciousness and to open his eyes. He found himself within a dimly lit chamber and in front of him…

… knelt a definitely male figure with his back turned towards him; naked as the day of his birth. Well, not fully. There was the white of underpants shown, yet no shirt or pullover covered the muscular back with broad shoulders and slim waist. The light of a little fire sent dark golden highlights over the short, black hair and as the man rose, Klink faced two long, strong legs – bare like the rest of the man.

Even tired beyond belief, he would have recognized those movements and this shock of dark hair anywhere, and a smile appeared on his face. This had to be a dream – one of those tender dreams which haunted him no less than the 'wet' ones. There was no other explanation why he, Wilhelm Klink, lay in a bed in a little chamber with an almost naked Robert Hogan in front of him.

He took in the lean, slender body, in the way the muscles moved as the colonel reached for something which seemed to be clothes, and his heartbeat increased. 'He's more beautiful than I ever dared to think,' was the first half-sane thought that went through Klink's mind. When they had been in London, Hogan had worn a robe while being in the communal bathroom at the air force base, and therefore it was the very first time ever he saw his counterpart almost naked.

Hoping this dream wouldn't end too quickly, he watched as Hogan put the clothes nearer the oven, and then his mouth became dry as the American turned around and their eyes met. The glimmer of the petroleum lamp bathed Hogan in a soft shine, and Klink wanted nothing more than to reach out and let his hands roam over this golden body.

"Come back to bed, hon," he mumbled; praying his dream-lover would act like he should with being, well, a dream.

Hogan had expected every possible reaction, but certainly not that one! 'Hon'? 'Come back to bed'? Uh-uh, there was someone still in dreamland. 'Well, at least he doesn't freak out instantly by seeing me more or less naked,' He thought; deeply amused.

"You are sure about it, sir?" he asked quietly; not realizing what his slightly hoarse voice did to his German counterpart.

Without hesitation but with rising pulse Klink reached out and closed his hand around Hogan's left wrist the moment the colonel closed the distance to the bed. "Come back; it's cold," he grumbled; tugging at the American's arm.

"Well, from senior POW officer to a personal heater – what a career," Hogan commented wryly and climbed over the older man back to the empty spot. "But don't give me an ear full tomorrow when you're really awake agaaaa…. Willie!"

The Oberst had caught his left wrist again and wrapped Hogan's arm around himself; lacing their fingers together. With a contented purr Klink snuggled backwards into the warm, strong body behind him, mumbled something Hogan was unable to understand – and fell back to sleep moments later.

"I don't believe it!" Hogan murmured; flabbergasted. He tried to free his hand without waking Klink, but for naught. The Oberst's long fingers were firmly entwined with his own.

Resigning, Hogan pushed his right arm back where it had been before and began to relax again – giving into his fate to be Klink's additional personal blanket for the rest of the night.

*** HH *** HH ***

The snowstorm finally calmed down in the early morning; leaving the whole area of Lower Bavaria under a thick white cover.

Hogan's men in Stalag 13 were still asleep just like Hochstetter and his underlings which had survived the attack, but in Obermayer's house the day was already about to begin.

Usually Hogan woke up early, too, but after everything that happened the evening prior, he was still in dreamland as the first muffled sounds below the floor woke him. A door clapped, steps were heard on the stairs a few moments later, and low voices spoke with each other – male and female; obviously the Obermayers.

Half an hour later Hogan came slowly around; feeling warm and comfortable. Something heavy was laying atop of him and he felt on his belly the soft beating of a heart, while warm breath danced over his bare skin at his left shoulder. An arm was wrapped around him and whoever was sharing his bed cuddled him like a personal pillow or teddy-bear.

Well, this was a nice way to wake up – to be not alone in bed and having someone snuggling close to him. Still half asleep and groggy from the exertion hours ago, he gently tightened his arms around his bed-companion and sighed in content – not realizing the big difference between his usual one-night-stands and the current person in his arms.

A soft squeaking and the shine of a lamp prevented him from drifting back to sleep. Someone had come into the room, yet – exhaust as Hogan was – he needed a moment before his mind caught up with everything that was going on. For one his throat felt raspy and his nose itched, which was less good. Second, he wanted to go back to sleep but there was something he urgently had to do, even if he couldn't remember what this 'something' was. And then he heard an amused chuckle. Finally, his brain started to work, and he opened his eyes again.

He looked directly into the aged face of Oscar Schnitzer, who carried a petroleum lamp, watching him and his bed-companion – and began to smirk.

"Really, Hogan, I never took you for this kind of guy. On the other hand, the never-ending bantering between you two should have told me enough. Teasing is a sign of affection, isn't it?"

What, the hell was Schnitzer talking about? And what was he doing here in Barrack 2 – with a petroleum lamp?

The flood of words that came over Hogan's lips betrayed his confused state of mind, and the veterinarian laughed quietly. "No, I didn't replace Schultz to get you for the morning roll call. But if you two are ready to separate at some point of time, you should make yourself presentable before you come down. What shall Frau Obermayer think if she sees you two like this?"

Schnitzer made less and less sense in Hogan's opinion, and…

The person with whom he obviously spent the night, began to shift and murmured something that sounded a lot like 'five minutes more' – spoken in German and definitely in a male voice!

What the heck!?

Lifting his head, the colonel peeked down at his bed-companion who was sprawled all over him – and almost yelped as he recognized Wilhelm Klink.

The movement seemed to wake the Kommandant more, who grumbled something about 'moving mattresses' and 'silly pillows which dare to speak to him'.

Schnitzer couldn't help himself anymore – he began to laugh out aloud; revealing a tolerance the most people didn't possess.

A moan escaped the Oberst, followed by a "Shut up, Schultz!"

Hogan's memories were flooding back, and with a groan he laid his head down again – looking exasperated at the ceiling, before he glanced at Schnitzer, who still gave into his amusement.

"This isn't funny," the American all but pouted. "Help me at least."

"You two are such a nice couple, I'll be damn by interrupting you."

"Schnitzer!" Hogan hissed. "For God's sake, be quiet! If someone hears you and gets hold of the wrong end of the stick, Klink and I are done for."

"Do you really think outside our boys are not snuggling up to keep each other warm in this damn winter, Hogan?" the veterinarian teased. "At least you two prove that close cooperation between our countries is possible even in war." He placed the petroleum-lamp on the table and took the empty one with him. "Hurry up. I'm leaving in half an hour. Oh, and by the way, the power is still off." Still smirking he stepped out into the floor and closed the door.

Hogan groaned again, lifted one hand and rubbed his face. To hell with the old guy – on the other hand, the whole situation did bear some humor. No doubt about it. A soft snore drove his attention back to the human blanket on top of him and taking a deep breath he decided to use this unique chance to tease his German counterpart merciless.

"Wilhelm," he almost sing-sang. "Wakey, wakey."

No reaction.

"Willie, we're late for roll call and Schultz will get angry with us."

An undefinable murmur was heard.

"Ah, come on, honey, or we're too late." He patted the Oberst on the bare back, which earned him a comfortable purr. Oops! Wrong way to get his goal.

"Wilhelm, wake up!"

For a moment the man above him tensed, then he sighed and snuggled closer to him – even rubbing his cheek, rough with the first beard-stubbles, on Hogan's shoulder.

'What a cuddler,' the American thought amused, before he chose the ultimate weapon. "Colonel Klink, General Burkhalter is on his way."

Another sigh, followed by a groggily, "'Shall go to hell," was all he got. Sweet Lord, this man really was a deep sleeper!

"Yeah, I agree with you, but we really have to hurry now. So, rise and shine." He patted Klink again, this time stronger. And finally, he was able to break through the Oberst's sleep-fogged mind.

Klink too a very deep breath, moved – and blinked into the semi-darkness.

His throat was scratchy, his nose itched and his whole body was as heavy as iron. And, besides, where was he? This wasn't his sleeping-chamber, this much was for certain. And… there was a body beneath him? A warm, strong and obviously not female body, but…

Lifting his head, he looked down at the living 'mattress' he lay on – and his eyes became wide as saucers as he recognized no-one other than his senior POW officer who smirked his infuriating smile at him.

"Ho… Hogan?" he all but stammered.

The colonel's grin broadened. "Good morning, tiger."

"T-t-t-tiger?" Klink's voice was unusual high.

"Yeah. You call yourself the 'Iron Eagle', but in truth you're a tiger," Hogan said ambivalently, growling suggestively while wriggling his brows.

"WHAT?" It was a squeak – nothing more, nothing less. The color Klink's face changed to, was alarming red while he gasped for air.

Topping everything, Hogan wrapped both arms around the older man's slender hips and smiled at him, "Who had ever thought that behind this shy behavior such a fierce soul slumbers?"

With a yelp Klink leaped to his feet, felt a sharp pain shooting up his left leg, got tangled in the blankets and almost lost his balance if it wouldn't have been for Hogan's quick reflexes.

"Easy there, 'hon'. This is the sixth time within the last hours that I have had to catch you." Steadying the older man, the colonel sat up and let go off him the moment the Kommandant got control over his legs.

Klink's breathe flew and his heart drummed in his chest like he had run a marathon; his left calf hurt, and it was cold here. He didn't know if this was a dream or a nightmare, as he turned around and looked down on Hogan, who sat there in all his bare glory; only some blankets drawn over his lap, the shine of the small lamp reflected on the dog-tag that hung on a golden chain down his muscular chest.

Had they really…? Had he finally given into his deepest wishes – and Hogan had returned those desires? Had they indeed…?

Hogan's guffaw caught his attention. There sat the colonel with tousled hair, holding his belly with laughter and simply looked like an oversized boy who pulled a big prank with success.

One moment!

Something was utterly wrong here.

Looking down at himself he realized that at least he still wore his underpants. So, they certainly hadn't… broken the law in this special way.

"You… you…" Klink sputtered enraged, pointing an accusing finger at the still chuckling American.

"God – your gaze," Hogan panted, and tears of laughter swelled up in his eyes.

The Oberst realized that Hogan had only pulled his leg, and he didn't know if he should be disappointed or relieved. "You damn rascal!" he growled. "You made me believe…"

"Told you I would warm you up when we were lost in the woods," the colonel grinned. "I always keep my promises."

"By crawling into my bed?"

"That's our bed and…" The American stopped as his German counterpart promptly blushed again.

"D-d-d-don't say you meant it this way!" The next second Klink slapped a hand over his mouth. He and his quick tongue without using his brain. It would be his downfall one day.

Hogan looked with big eyes at him, before he began to chuckle. "Sweet Lord, Willie, do you want that something had happened between us?" he teased.

"HOGAN!"

"Sorry, but after all you asked me to come back to bed tonight and even called me 'hon'."

"That… that wasn't a dream?" Klink's voice climbed up an octave again.

"You thought you dreamed as you named me 'hon' and pulled me back into bed beside you?" the colonel chaffed him again.

"Yes… NO!" Klink paled, only to blush again.

"You really dream about me?" Hogan tried to look innocent, but this time his acting skills left him. His eyes shone with mirth and new laughter pulled at his lips. Heavens, he really loved to bicker with the older man.

"Yes – in nightmares," the Oberst snapped; wishing for a hole to swallow him.

This was too good to let the topic drop. "Uh, and there I thought you liked me – after all the snuggling and cuddling you did last night," Hogan pretended to pout.

Klink had enough. He wasn't going to lose this quarrel. Not this time. Turning the tables, he said, "Hogan, two possibilities. If you don't shut up I strangle or kiss you. The choice is yours!" He felt a smirk tugging at his mouth, as the colonel promptly gaped at him. "Muzzled – finally!" Klink triumphed.

"You threaten to kill me after all the trouble I went through last night to save your butt?" the American complained in his best little-boy-voice.

"This bothers you more than the prospect of me shutting you up the other way?" Klink asked; not knowing what to make of this reaction.

Pretending to sulk, Hogan lifted his hand and counted on his fingers the long list of favors,

"I carried you through the woods, warmed you…"

"Hogan!"

"… gave you my cap, brought you here, treated your injuries, stripped you to prevent you from dying by exposure, filled the oven with wood during the night to keep you warm and even allowed you to use me as your blanket – and in gratitude, you are threating me? Wilhelm, you really hurt me here." Pouting, pressing a dramatic hand against his chest and looking at the older man like a punished little puppy, Hogan knew that he had won the moment Klink groaned and lowered his head.

"All right, all right, you saved me and took care of me. I'm very grateful for your help."

"Yes, out of friendship. And then you accuse me of being nasty to you. You really should apologize."

Klink glared up as he finally realized that Hogan was manipulating him again. With two stumbling steps he was in front of the younger man and bent down; invading the colonel's private space for once. "I'm grateful that you did all those things for me – and that you didn't leave me to die in the woods. But. Stop. Manipulating. Me!" With satisfaction he saw Hogan's eyes widening in real surprise and added, "Don't think for a minute that I don't see through you, you churl! And if I didn't like you so damn much I…"

"So, you really like me?"

There it was again – this boyish behavior that masked the American's cleverness.

"How long have to you two been married?" The voice came from the door and belonged to Schnitzer, who leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms in front of his chest and pursing his lips in sheer amusement.

Klink turned around, hissed as his calf began to burn again, and starred at the veterinarian. "Schnitzer?" he gasped; thunderstruck. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting old friends before you and your senior POW officer showed up – more dead than alive. And now I wanted to offer you two a ride back to Stalag 13 – if the gentlemen will be able to get dressed within the next ten years."

Klink blinked at him – then life returned into his body. With a "Give us two minutes!" he grasped for his clothes. "How late is it? Where are we exactly? Does Schultz know that we're still alive?"

"Sorry, Herr Oberst, but because of the rationed power we're still out of electricity. Therefore, no telephone is working. And concerning your other questions: We're approximately three kilometers away from Stalag 13 and it's half past six."

"Are the Obermayers already awake?" Hogan asked and rose from the bed. "I want to say good-bye to them at least."

"They are down in the kitchen and I'm sure they want to give you and Oberst Klink their best wishes before you leave." He turned away. "Hurry, gentlemen, I don't have all day."

"Slave driver," Klink grumbled barely after Schnitzer had left.

"We owe him," Hogan replied while slipping into his pants; turning serious finally. "Especially you. It was him who attended your injuries. I only gave him a hand."

"Thought so. My arm and leg feel like a heard of cows has tramped over them," the Kommandant sighed. "Who are those Obermayers?"

While they dressed, Hogan filled him in on what happened during the late evening and the night, and five minutes later both men came down the steps; Klink having re-holstered his pistol. He was glad that Hogan had taken care of it instead of leaving it at the clearing. Weapons were rationed too, by now, and he really didn't wish to explain to Burkhalter why he needed a new pistol. Yet Klink asked himself why the colonel hadn't hidden the weapon from him to make use of it at some later time. Besides the matter with Hochstetter, a POW – especially in Hogan's position – certainly could make use of a pistol. Sometimes, the Kommandant thought, Hogan was too honorable for his own good – or he was too clever to give his opponents any kind of reason to put him on the back burner.

Klink met the Obermayers now for the first real time, thanked them for their help and hospitality and was about to leave the house after Hogan had already left with Schnitzer, as Andreas said quietly, "Herr Oberst, I don't know why your senior POW officer really was involved with the Gestapo and I don't want to have details, but one thing is for sure: He is a fine man who ignored his own duty to flee when he decided to aid you. He also defended you fiercely when I asked him why a prisoner worries so much about his jailor. Whatever the Gestapo accuses him of – look after him. I do believe he's a true friend to you."

The Kommandant stared at him and then outside, where Hogan was helping Schnitzer to get his truck free of snow. Hogan had defended him – and had really worried for him? Memories rose in him. Memories of the last evening when he was barely conscious while wandering through the hell of ice and snow. He saw the colonel's face near his, dark eyes sharp with concern. Words of encouragement and even pleading not to give up echoed in his mind, while strong arms held him – and his heart thrummed harder as he realized that this damn rascal seemed to really care for him. Joy filled him that he quickly masked with a cough.

"Well, he's not so bad – and I'm used to having him around. The Gestapo will have a hard time getting him away from my protection."

Uh, that was certainly more than he should have said, but one look at the other man's smiling face showed him that his words were well understood.

"I'm glad," Obermayer murmured. "If all men were as honorable as you two are, we would not be at war."

Klink cleared his throat – God, it scratched. He certainly had relapsed with the damn cold he had barely overcome. "Thanks," he murmured. "I wish you and your wife a good day. And if you have trouble one day, you know where to find me." He saluted and left the house – cursing as the coldness hit him mercilessly.

"Herr Oberst!" Anneliese Obermayer followed him and offered him two blankets. "Here, for you and Colonel Hogan. It's cold in Oscar's truck and given the large amount of fresh snow, your way back to the camp will be long."

Klink couldn't help himself: He gave the lady a real smile. "Thank you so much, Frau Obermayer. I will ask Schnitzer to give them back to you when we've reached the camp. Good day."

Wrapping the blanket around himself and carrying the second one towards the truck, he called, "Hurry, Hogan. We've already missed morning roll call – and warm coffee waits for us when we're back."

The American looked up from his task to free the truck from the snow. "Is this an offer, Kommandant? Thank you for the invitation."

"That you always have to put words in my mouth," Klink groused.

"But you just said that at home coffee waits for us, so this is a casual invitation," Hogan protested with a huff.

Andreas looked at his wife; deeply amused. "It sounds crazy, but they are indeed friends."

Anneliese giggled softly. "Yeah, but they don't realize it."

TBC…

This is the first time the two counterparts were really bickering, and I hope you liked it. I also imagine Schnitzer as a more tolerate man, therefore his shock-less behavior as he found the two colonels in a position that would usually have compromised them (even if really nothing happened).

The next one will first be a sad one, because Hogan's men really think their friend and superior officer his dead. And then comes the big surprise – and it wear several faces.

I would be happy to get some reviews / comments again, and sorry that the next publishing will last approx. two weeks, because from Thursday on I'm off for holidays.

Have a nice rest of the week,

Love

Yours Starflight