Hallo, my dear readers!

Thank you for all the comments, reviews and other feedback. I'm happy that the story has found some fans.

Maybe some of you, who have already read this chapter, will realize a difference, because my dear beta-reader Kat is back and has corrected that one. The others, which are without a beta-reading, will be corrected and re-published, too.

And now I wish you fun with the next chapter.

Love

Yours Starflight

Chapter 7 – Darkness Closes Up

As it turned out Klink's two injuries were slightly infected, and he suffered a real relapse of his almost cured cold. As Wilson stepped into Barrack 2, he reported to Hogan – who ate his second bowl of broth with a slice of bread – that there was even a rustle heard in the Oberst's lungs and that he had advised Klink that he should go to a hospital to receive proper treatment for everything.

"I can give him some Aspirin and can treat his injuries with iodine, but there is a big chance that he got a light case of pneumonia, and if so, it can be fatal if not correctly attended to. I don't have not the medicine here to help him properly."

Hogan had stopped eating and was surprised by the sting he felt deep inside. Worry! It was indeed real worry that rose in him and the mere thought that Klink could die because of this damn incident yesterday evening, made him sick. Pneumonia wasn't an easy thing. Heavens, people died because of it over and over again, and given the poor nourishment in the camp, the drafty buildings, the icy winter weather and Klink's already ailing condition, the Oberst could be real in danger. In addition to that infected injuries weakened a body, too, so…

Swearing under his breath, Hogan glanced at his men. "Have you finished the repairs to Klink's car?"

LeBeau shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "After Hochstetter arrested you yesterday evening, we weren't in the mood anymore to move so much as a finger for the damn bosches!"

Hogan frowned. "Klink risked the Russian Front when he stood up against Hochstetter to defend me – and he almost gave his life saving mine. At least you could have…"

He was interrupted by Newkirk. "Sorry, Gov'nor, but one, we didn't think that Klink would have enough guts to help you for real as soon as you two were in Hochstetter's office, and two, how could we know what happened to you and him? We all assumed that the attack we heard was directed at the convoy and we had something else on our mind the whole night than a stupid car."

Hogan sighed. "I know that you worried for me. Sorry, fellas. But Klink can't be driven in a sidecar to Hammelburg. If he hasn't caught pneumonia until now, he certainly has after the trip. I owe him and…"

"Let's go, guys," Kinch decided. "Let us see if we can get the car working again."

Hogan smiled at him. "Thanks." He grabbed for his leather-jacket. "I'll help you and…"

"NO!"

This was spoken in a chorus and he stopped dead in his track. "I beg your pardon?" he asked baffled.

"You're ill yourself, so please stay here, Colonel," Kinchloe said.

"We'll get the damn thing repaired in no time, sir, so please remain here where it's warm," Newkirk nodded, grabbing for his cap and jacket.

"Men, I really can…" Hogan began to protest, but Wilson cut in.

"I'll have to check you thoroughly, Colonel, because you've really caught a cold as much as I can tell."

"But…"

"Just let us do our job, and you go to bed just like the Kommandant ordered," Carter said almost firmly, and added hastily a "Sir!".

With an, "Until later," the five men left the Barrack.

Hogan stared at the closed door and looked thunderstruck over his shoulder at Wilson. "I'm speechless."

"Ah, certainly not for long, Colonel, knowing your wits," the medic grinned and began to unpack his med-kit.

With a low growl Hogan sat back at the table, gripping his cup filled with hot coffee. His men – sometimes he thought he let them get away with too much lazy behavior. Some of his own superior officers would be shocked if they learned of the easy way Hogan led his command. But besides the fact that they all were in the same boat here while living as POWs and rank really didn't count, if you could admit the truth to yourself, there was also Hogan's personality. While he knew that hierarchy was an essential necessary for an army to be functional, he had never been someone who used his rank at any given chance to subdue others or to boast about it. He had always preferred a comradely working relationship with his underlings; only pulling rank when there was no other way.

But with Kinchloe, Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter and also Baker it was a completely different matter. Yes, he was their commanding officer, but he was also their friend. He always took the responsibility for those in his command seriously and he would never let anyone of his men down, but with those five he wouldn't hesitate to give his life for them. They were more brothers of soul than brothers of arms, and quite often he thought he was handling younger siblings instead of underlings.

Therefore, he once again refrained from rebuking them from giving him orders, because he knew that they only had his wellbeing at heart.

Sighing he finished his meal, went to his office that was also his bedroom, and began to strip off his shirt to let Wilson check him. Maybe he only caught a slight cold and nothing as serious as Klink's. Afterwards he would see that Klink really left the camp to go to the hospital, before he would shower, shave and then take a long nice nap.

But fate had other things in store for him…

*** HH ***

Hogan's men needed just under an hour until Klink's car was functional again – well, more or less. There were still things to do, and because of the almost empty container of gasoline the car's tank could only be filled with ten liters, but for the short trip to Hammelburg it should be enough. In the years prior there had been no problems getting spare parts and the container filled on a regular bases, but now most industries within Germany had broken down and things became rare even on the black market. Newkirk and LeBeau were specialists when it came to tinkering things together and improvising matters, but both crossed their fingers that the car would hold.

In earlier months they wouldn't have cared if Klink made it to Hammelburg by car or not. Hell, they would have laughed their heads off imagining their stiff, vain Kommandant stomping through the snow to get to the small town; grousing and whining the whole way along. But not this time. None of the five men who built Hogan's core team would forget that Klink saved their commanding officer and that the German colonel was only suffering now because he put Hogan's welfare above his own. Klink had risen in their esteem and they didn't want the man getting more ill because of a damn car breakdown.

They were barely done as Schultz entered the motor pool demanding a short report. The Sergeant of the Guards looked utterly tired out and he yawned several times while Kinchloe gave him a quick update of the situation.

"So, the Kommandant can be driven to the hospital in that car?" Schultz asked in assurance, and as the men nodded, he climbed into the vehicle with a gentle, "You did well, boys. Thank you."

"You're welcome," LeBeau grumbled. "But you should visit the next fuel-stop. There isn't much gasoline left in the container and we only could draw a few liters."

Schultz nodded. "Thanks for the advice."

"When will you two be back?" Kinch asked – not out of concern, but out of the necessity to know how long they could go on with any missions London maybe have for them without the camp's Kommandant present.

"I don't know," Schultz shrugged. "Your Sergeant Wilson made it very clear that the Kommandant has to be treated in hospital – and knowing Klink who cries for a priest when he only sneezed, I don't think that he will be back within the next days."

The five POWs chuckled; remembering very well the sniffing and whining every time Klink suffered a cold. Yet the Oberst had proven to be able to take a far more if needed. They all were still baffled of Klink's obvious show of courage as he rescued Hogan.

"Behave, boys, until we've returned," Schultz said, before he carefully steered the staff car out of the motor pool and towards the Kommandantur (commandant's office), where Klink stood on the porch. Wrapped in his thick winter coat, with a scarf wrapped around his neck and under half of his face, cap pulled deep over his eyes and arms crossed in front of him, he really looked like he felt: Cold and miserable. A small suitcase was placed beside him on the ground, and Corporal Langenscheidt stood at the other side and got the last instructions.

"I gave Burkhalter's secretary all details. If the general calls back, tell him my written report is on its way and ask him to call Hochstetter off Hogan's back. I'm willing to listen and to look at every so-called proof Hochstetter allegedly has against our troublemaker, but he will have to bring those proofs to Stalag 13. Burkhalter has to make it very clear to Hochstetter that Hogan will remain in the camp until I'm back. I will not allow that this mad gnome gets his hands on my senior POW officer."

Langenscheidt nodded. "I speak with the general in your name, sir."

"Good," Klink nodded and watched Schultz driving the staff car out of the motor pool. "Otherwise there is only one order I have to give you: Keep the camp together, watch out that there will be no escapes and if there are new problems with the power supply during the next night do anything in your might to get it going again. Without power we're done for here."

Well, that was three orders, but Langenscheidt wasn't in the mood to joke. He was still far too tired and the prospect of being acting Kommandant until at least Schultz was back, wasn't something he looked forward to. Especially given the whole situation with Hochstetter. And there was also the fact that Captain Gruber, who had been Klink's official substitute until a few weeks ago, had been sent to active combat. Therefore nor real officer was left except for Klink. Yet there wasn't any other answer possible than, "Jawohl, Herr Oberst."

As Schultz stopped the car in front of the building, Langenscheidt saluted, wished Klink well and watched him limping down the steps, while Schultz took the suitcase.

"Colonel Klink!"

At the sound of the voice the Kommandant turned around and groaned. "Hogan! I ordered you to stay a day in bed and to cure yourself. So, what are you doing here outside of your barrack?"

The American colonel closed the distance to him; hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket; collar popped up against the wind. "Wilson told me about his assumption that you caught pneumonia and that your injuries were infected. I…" He took a deep breath; surprised at the concern he still felt for the older man and his true wish to see Klink healthy. "I wanted to give you my best wishes. Get well soon."

Klink watched him. He knew exactly when Hogan was mocking him or not, and just right now the younger man was downright serious. He indeed cared for Klink. There was no doubt left. Warmth spread through the Oberst's body and heart, and he couldn't hide the joy as he looked into those dark eyes. "Thanks, Hogan, I'll try my best." He gripped for the handle of the car-door, but hesitated. "And Hogan, do me a favor. Stay out of trouble."

"Me?" Innocent indignation appeared on the colonel's handsome features. "I always stay out of trouble."

Klink couldn't help himself: He had to laugh. "Yes, and pigs can fly – or how you Americans say." Then his chuckle turned into heavy coughing and he felt Hogan's hand on his shoulders, as the colonel helped him into the car.

"Schultz, put some coal into the fire, or our Kommandant turns into an icicle – or coughs his head off," Hogan ordered, and the large sergeant looked confused at him.

"Coal? Colonel Hogan, you know that cars drive with gasoline."

Groaning Hogan pushed Klink deeper on the back seat and threw the door closed. Sometimes he really wondered, if Schultz was simply pulling all their legs, or if he really didn't understand usual jokes.

Clapping one hand in a farewell-greeting on the car's roof he stepped back and watched the vehicle driving to the main gate. And deep inside him he felt uneasiness rising.

Something was about to go very wrong. He felt it deep in his bones.

Sighing, he turned and saw his men at the entrance to Barrack 2; waiting for him. And they weren't alone. Wilson stood there, too, and all of them were obviously not amused of his little trip out into the cold.

'Worse than mother-hens,' Hogan thought, rolled his eyes and returned to the barrack.

He shivered as an icy wind breathed around him like the shadow of a dark omen.

And behind him Klink's secretary, Fräulein (Miss) Hilda Schneider, was granted entry to the camp like every morning. If Hogan would have looked back, he would have seen her confused face as she watched her boss be driven away by the Sergeant of the Guards, but eager to return to the relative warmth of the barrack, the arrival of Klink's secretary slipped the colonel's usual sharp awareness.

"Where does Oberst Klink drive to this early in the morning?" the young woman asked, as she reached the porch of the Kommandantur and glanced questioningly at Langenscheidt.

Karl sighed and told her with a few words most of what happened since the evening prior; not going much into details. It was enough to shock and concern Hilda, yet she was relieved to hear that Hogan was uninjured, even if he suffered a cold now. She had a big crush on the American colonel from the beginning, and his flirting with her (especially his kisses) were the highlights of her days. Yet she worried also about Oberst Klink. He may be not the easiest of chiefs she had in her young career, but he was always polite and a through gentleman towards her. She had come to like him and to hear that he got wounded while he saved Hogan's life, made her regard the middle-aged man in another light. She only hoped that he didn't get it too bad.

Even without Klink in the office, Hilda had a lot to do, and as the telephone rang a quarter hour later, she answered the call while sorting documents.

"Stalag 13, office of Kommandant Klink."

She instantly was on alert as she heard the sharp voice at the other end of the line.

"Gestapo Headquarters, Major Hochstetter's speaking. Please put me through to Sergeant Schultz, Fräulein Hilda."

Even if the short-tempered major was always polite towards her, too, his mere presence unnerved her as did his voice. She couldn't stand the man but was very careful not to show it. Yet his order confused her. What did Hochstetter wanted from Schultz?

"I regret, Herr Major, but Sergeant Schultz isn't available. He drove Kommandant Klink to the hospital and…"

"WHOM?" Hochstetter almost screamed.

Hilda had quickly pulled the receiver away from her ear which began to ring because of the major's outburst. Frowning she stared at the telephone. Was Hochstetter drunk or why did he pretend all of sudden that he didn't know who Klink was?

"Oberst Klink, Kommandant of this camp, Herr Major," she answered finally; her tone betraying her thoughts that she assumed the Gestapo-officer had finally gone mad.

"I know who Klink is, but… He was driven to the hospital?"

Hilda frowned. "Of course, he had to visit the hospital after he was injured yesterday evening while saving Colonel Hogan, Herr Major. He and the colonel barely made it back to the camp – while you left them and walked to Hammelburg. Don't get me wrong, Herr Major, but to leave them wasn't correct. What, if they hadn't made it?"

"HOGAN's alive, too?" Hochstetter's voice had risen an octave.

Hilda felt irritation rising in her. "Herr Major, if this is your way of pulling my leg, it isn't funny. You certainly know exactly what happened yesterday evening. Oberst Klink is in hospital and…"

"And Hogan?"

"Where should he be? Of course, he's here in the camp – in his barrack, trying to cure the cold he got after he aided Oberst Klink and returned with him to Stalag 13."

"He didn't flee?" There was an odd tone in Hochstetter's voice now. Something that made Hilda suspicious.

"No, he didn't flee. And it doesn't surprise me. I don't take Colonel Hogan for the type of person who leaves someone behind who is injured!" It was a potshot – something the young woman wouldn't have dared to do if the situation were different. But just right now she was outraged that the rivalry between Hochstetter and Klink had made the Gestapo-officer abandon the Oberst. It was malicious and cowardly in her eyes, and nothing else.

At the other end of the line, Hochstetter had to stomach that the two thorns of his existence still lived. Yet it gave him another chance – a chance that sounded better and better with every passing second.

"When will Klink be back, Fräulein Hilda?" he asked; forcing himself to sound polite. It hadn't slipped his attention that the young woman was obviously angry with him for leaving her boss alone in the woods. Usually he couldn't care less if someone was irritated with him. He stirred other people's anger on a regular base. Yet he had to admit that he almost admired the young woman's loyalty concerning Klink – the stupid fool didn't have so many people who stood true to him. But what was far more important was to keep the secretary calm. Regrettable there was too much talk and gossip within the POW-camp and he didn't need her to alert Hogan before he, Hochstetter, made his move.

"I don't know, Herr Major," he heard Hilda answering his question. "It depends on what the doctors will diagnose."

"I see. Who is in charge of the camp for now?"

"Corporal Langenscheidt. Shall I get him for your?" The secretary sounded calmer now.

"No, Fräulein Hilda, I only wanted to know if everything is in order with Stalag 13 until Klink is back."

"If this is all, Herr Major, please excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."

"Of course, my dear. I don't want to keep you from your job."

"Thanks, Herr Major, have a nice day."

"The same for you, Fräulein Hilda." He ended the call and placed the receiver back on the phone. His glance found Leutnant Heinrich von Neuhaus who sat in one of the visitor-chairs; a promising man full of the right ideals to be trusted with an important task – at least in Hochstetter's eyes.

"Klink and Hogan are alive."

Von Neuhaus nodded slowly. "I figured as much given your answers during the call. So, what do we do now?"

Hochstetter only smiled and sneered, "That poor excuse of a German officer got wounded while saving the damn Ami and is now in hospital. God alone knows why Hogan is this important to Klink." He rose from his chair. "Fräulein Hilda wished me a 'good day', and I do think this day will be one of the best in my life." He left his desk. "The whole situation gives us a formidable advantage. With Klink out of the way there is no-one who can protect Hogan." He cocked his head. "Have you ever thought of commanding a POW-camp, Leutnant?"

"Not until today, Herr Major," von Neuhaus answered; stroking back one light blond strain from his forehead while his icy blue eyes hung at his superior officer.

"Well, now you have the chance for it," Hochstetter smirked.

The same moment the town's horns blared as alert; informing everyone that hostile aircrafts were nearby.

"Oh… For God's sake!" Hochstetter shouted and waved at von Neuhaus to follow him. "Down to the cellars!" he ordered. Outside of his office the whole staff abandoned any task that was being performed at the moment, and hastened quickly but with discipline towards the cellars to seek out cover.

From afar the sounds of aircrafts was heard, and Hochstetter stopped as the noises didn't get any closer. Lifting a hand that signaled the others to wait, he listened intensively, before he breathed in relief. "They only passed by," he stated. "No danger." He raised his voice. "Everybody back to duty!" he called, before he looked at the Leutnant. "Come on, we've a job to do."

Klink and Schultz had it made to the town, despite the cover of snow that made it difficult to drive. They made it into the hospital the moment the town horns signaled alert and were also on their way into the cellars, as the alarm ended. Grousing about all those disturbances even at day, Klink enrolled himself at the admission and sat a quarter hour later on the examination table of one of the doctors' rooms.

Dr. Thomas Birkhorn, one of the leading surgeons in the hospital – and part of the Underground – had taken a critically closer look at the two injuries and listened to the Oberst's chest. Yes, the officer was in need for a proper medical treatment. But this wasn't the only problem at hand. All of sudden the lights within the hospital became dark and only shone again after the hospital's own emergency generator was activated.

"What's the matter with the power?" Klink demanded, while watching the doctor stitching his left upper arm. He was only glad that the hospital had still some sedatives to spare, otherwise the whole procedure would have been very painful.

"I have no clue, Herr Oberst," Birkhorn answered. He knew Klink from several phone calls and he also examined him after the 'accident' with the sidecar. This had been the first time he had also met Hogan, and became aware of the American's secret missions a few days later after a talk with Danzig. Outside a loyal German surgeon, he supported the Underground and its allies whenever needed. His gaze found Klink's. "We've an emergency generator that prevents us from being without power. It would be a catastrophe during operations or for the intensive care unit."

A few minutes later a nurse knocked and stepped into the room. "Doctor, we got word from a police officer who just dropped by. The aircrafts which flew by earlier attacked the powerhouse near Würzburg. Obviously, they did a lot of damage and the whole area is without power now." Again, the lights flickered. "The police said it will last until problems are solved."

While the doctor cursed, Klink sighed quietly. That was exactly what they needed: A general power blackout in the whole area – and the camp's emergency generator was old and was on its last legs.

"Is whole Hammelburg affected?" he asked and grunted as Birkhorn began to wrap his arm in bandages.

"Yes – except for the town hall, the hospital and the Gestapo headquarters. We all have emergency generators, but the rest certainly will be without power for hours, if not days," the nurse said unhappily.

"I understand," the Oberst murmured; not knowing if these circumstances were fortunate or not. With the whole power crapped out, Hochstetter wouldn't be able to make a call to the camp; after all the telephone lines were supplied by the town's power station. This was in Klink's opinion a good thing – after all he didn't want Hochstetter to learn that he cheered too soon about Hogan's and his, Klink's, death. On the other hand, with the phones out of work, Burkhalter couldn't reach Stalag 13 or could call off Hochstetter from Hogan's neck.

Klink felt at unease that he was forced to leave the camp before he had the chance to speak with Burkhalter in person, but there had been no other real choice. The good doctor had already affirmed that he got bronchitis that could always worsen into pneumonia and needed to be treated with strong medication. And his two injuries were also needed to be attended properly to – even if Klink hated to get stitches.

In other words: He would have to remain for two or three days here – away from the camp, without having been able to settle all the things for the time he would be absent. With Hochstetter breathing down his and especially Hogan's neck, he could only hope that everything would turn out well in the end.

After being treated with everything he needed, Klink was led out of the examination area towards his sick-room. Schultz sat beside the door on a chair – snoring like a bear in winter. Well, Klink couldn't blame him. The man had been up for more than 24 hours by now, stressed with worry. He really had every right in the world to sleep. Gesturing to the nurse who accompanied him to stay silent, Klink entered the room and made himself ready to slip into bed.

He had to admit that it felt like heaven as his tired limps came to lie on the soft mattress and the warmth of the thick duvet covered him. The nurse closed the curtains, made certain that he took the pills the doctor had prescribed for him and then left the room.

Sighing in content, Klink closed his eyes. But real peace wouldn't come to him. Too much happened within the last hours. First the arrest of Hogan, then the ambush of the aircrafts, Hogan and he running for dear life, Hogan's refusal to make an attempt to escape and risking getting caught by Hochstetter again. Then their odyssey through the icy woods, him finding himself in bed with Hogan, seeing Hogan practically naked, Hogan teasing him about his sleep-drunken comments without realizing how close he hit home with his cheeky suggestions…

Klink groaned. Everything circled around this damn American oversized boy in form of a well-built man! There was no escape from him. Even here, in the dimmed patient's room of the hospital the colonel's ghost seemed to be present. His shining eyes and his smirking face with the even, handsome features popped up in Klink's mind whenever he tried to relax, and he thought to hear Hogan's voice, declaring fiercely that he 'wouldn't let a friend down'.

A friend…

Klink wished for so much more, but he knew he would never have it. Those stolen hours last night were all he would ever get. And they hadn't even been hours of passion and love-making, but hours of shared body-heat and comfort. It was more than Wilhelm Klink had ever dared to hope for, still it was not enough.

Far from it.

Klink had gotten a bitter-sweet taste of the forbidden fruit his American counterpart presented. He had experienced one time how it felt to wake up in the strong arms of the other man, hearing his gentle heart-beat under his own ear and basking in the softness of the silken skin that covered Hogan's muscular body.

He wanted more. He wanted to really taste this human silk, comb his fingers through these thick, dark strands, wanted to conquer this witty mouth until they both were out of breath. He wanted…

With another groan Klink turned on his right side and hit the mattress with his left fist in frustration; cursing quietly as he felt the first pain in his upper arm from the sedative was wearing off.

God dammit! They had been in mortal danger – not only from the pursuing aircrafts but also from the bitter cold that had been about to get the better of them. Hogan had taken care of him – out of honor and gratefulness, an odd sense of duty and because of the friendship he obviously had developed for him. He had taken him into his arms to warm him up in attempt to prevent Klink from relapsing. This was all – end of story! Everything else was wishful thinking Klink had tried to control for almost three years now. He had somehow succeeded in suppressing his feelings for most of the time, he wouldn't start to give into them now.

Yet there was the tempting whispering in his heart and soul – promises of getting a taste of Eden if he only would dare to make the next step.

But again, it was his deeply rooted fear that would prevent him from making this step; this much he knew. His mother had realized his 'weakness' years before he became even aware of it, and afterwards she had warned him what would happen to him if this secret ever came to the light of day. And then, as the Third Reich became more and more empowered, men like him were treated worse than animals and most were killed in a very painful way. His fear to be revealed had increased over the years and was anchored in his very being by now.

Yet he could dream – dreaming of a future together with a man the war had put on the enemy's side but who had become a friend and the person he desired beyond imagination.

Dreams were all he ever got, dreams were all that was left for him. And letting his mind and soul soar together with those dreams full of light and love, Klink slowly drifted into sleep – blissfully unaware of the dark demons which rose to lunge for any kind of future he maybe could have with the man he had fallen in love with…

Hogan had gone to bed – but not the way the medic had in mind. He had washed himself properly, had shaved and had pondered slipping into his pajama to take a real nap, but an odd hunch had hindered him. Something wasn't right. Something was going to happen, this much was for sure, so it was safer to be prepared.

So, he simply lay on his bed fully clothes sans shoes, jacket and crush cap, pulled the blanket over him and tried to find some rest. For naught.

Too many things were on his mind. There was the ambush he still had to think of. Yes, of course the pilots of the Allied Air Forces were instructed to weaken the enemy at any given chance, but to attack a small convoy without any further information was indeed foolish. The Allies had many supporters among the German Luftwaffe, Abwehr and even Gestapo. The risk that one of their spies could be killed by their own people was high – just like it almost had happened to him. He would have to speak with General Butler about it. Duty was good and right, but overdone it could have nasty results. Hogan didn't want to think about the fact that he would be indeed dead now if wouldn't have been for Klink's sudden development of courage.

Klink…

That was the second thing that busied the colonel. There was something off with his German counterpart. Klink could put on a mask of bravery if necessary, and several times he really had stood up against Burkhalter and Hochstetter, but he usually backed down quickly afterwards; fearing consequences if he drew too much attention to his person.

This detail especially made Hogan more and more suspicious. Klink was a Prussian officer through and through, highly decorated during the Great War. The Iron Cross and the other decorations with medals weren't given for naught. Either Klink had been the famous blind hen that found some grains of corn – meaning, he simply had had a few fortunate situations from which he turned out as the hero – or he really achieved some amazing things during the first World War. Otherwise he wouldn't have gotten all the awards, but what had changed the Oberst so much afterwards?

Hogan didn't know which one of the two possibilities was true. Maybe a mixture of both. Klink did have his moments after all and could outgrow himself if needed. He had proven that only yesterday evening. Maybe such things happened before which led to the awards he received, but a certain anxiety seemed to be his constant companion. Yet the question remained: What triggered Klink in getting a backbone and risking health and life to become someone others called a 'hero'?

Well, there had also been less famous things the Kommandant did during the Great War, which indeed sounded like him. For example, there was the episode with the Blue Baron who accused Klink of panicking at the end of WW I so that the plane both flew crashed; leaving the baron with a knee-injury that made him limp even today. Yet Hogan couldn't blame Klink for such a reaction. The colonel was too experienced as a pilot himself not to know that there were indeed situations in which even the best trained man lost it. Maybe this had been the beginning of Klink's fall from a brave warrior to someone whose backbone was practically non-existing.

There was also a third possibility: The whole episode with the Blue Baron and afterwards, had given Klink the idea to play the idiot to survive this war of madness.

Klink wasn't a Nazi, this much was clear. Hogan knew that the Oberst had been a member of the social democratic party SPD before it was forbidden within the Third Reich. Therefore, Klink had to be very carefully not to fall from grace within this insanity Hitler still called 'beloved Fatherland'. To show and to declare another opinion than the Nazis had, would mean certain death. So, Klink put on an act of stupidity to stay true to his own opinion without risking execution. This was something Hogan had assumed for more than two years now. Klink was quite intelligent and clever. It would be a big mistake to underestimate him, even if he pretended to be the stupid fool. In his own way the Kommandant had adopted Schultz' tactic of 'seeing and hearing nothing' to fight his own battle by not fighting at all.

But all this didn't answer the question concerning Klink's sudden suicidal bravery yesterday evening. Yes, Hogan knew that Klink liked him, even regarded him sometimes as a kind of friend, but given the Oberst's usual behavior the American colonel had never thought that the older man would go this far for him – he who was technically the enemy. Something had triggered the Kommandant to overgrow himself – risking not only the Russian Front but death as he stood up against Hochstetter and returned to the car Hogan was chained to in the middle of a deadly ambush.

And afterwards Klink had not only ordered, but even begged him to make an attempt of escape. 'It's your only chance, and we both know it. So, take it!' Klink had said. 'You'll make it away from Germany and then you're safe.' – 'Go, Robert! I meant it when I said you shall save yourself.'

Safety.

Klink had been almost desperate to get Hogan to safety. Why? Yes, the colonel was Klink's responsibility and above all was the senior POW officer in Stalag 13, but this couldn't be the reason why the older man put Hogan's welfare above his own.

What also was odd was the fact that Klink had addressed him several times by his given name – something that had never happened before. It had awoken an unsettling feeling within the American; a strange little sting within his belly followed by a foreign shiver beneath his skin. And he didn't even know why, but he didn't dare to think about this reaction closer – or his icy fear as he thought Klink had been shot. Something was whispering at the edge of his mind that set him on alert, and it was unnerving.

Heck, why had Klink called him 'Robert' at all? Yes, they had been in mortal danger, but they had faced the Grim Reaper before, and Klink never had become this private. Well, this was not entirely true. Hogan remembered the moments in which Klink thought, he and his senior POW officer were on a suicidal mission, and he had offered him to call him 'Wilhelm' should they die this day. And there were times Klink didn't protest when he called him 'Willie' or rebuked him that these intimacies were improper in their positions.

Thinking of it, Klink almost never groused about the intimate way of being addressed when they were alone, only when others were present or when Hogan had really irritated him earlier. He also permitted Hogan more liberties when there weren't guards or further POWs present, and the talks they had during chess or when they simply sat together after official business in the Oberst's office, were often profound.

Hogan pursed his lips. Klink had begun to let his guard down when Hogan was involved; hell, half of his plans were based on manipulating Klink into doing or believing something Hogan needed to have as a background for his missions, and it often surprised him that Klink trusted him enough by now to even seek him out for advice.

Putting this all together led to one conclusion. Klink had…

"Mon colonel!" LeBeau burst into his room without even knocking; panic in his voice and on his face as Hogan sat up in alert. "Hochstetter arrived – with a truck loaded full of SS-guards! And a few of them are heading straight towards our barrack!"

TBC…

Well, it came like it had to come: Hochstetter learned of the two colonels' survival and of course he acts on it. You'll see, the next chapters will be a little bit darker, while Hogan is in Hochstetter's power, the Heroes are desperate to help him and Klink knows of nothing…

I hope you also liked the thoughts both men had – especially Hogan, who has begun to realize that there is more behind Klink's bravery the evening prior than thought.

Concerning Dr. Birkhorn: He is a character of my own and I simply put him into the background of the episode 'Up in Klink's room', in which Dr. Klaus treats Klink. Birkhorn is going to have some important moments within the story, so I hope you're going to like him.

In the next chapter Hogan will be questioned by Hochstetter, and he has to realize that the major has figured out so much that the colonel's chance of getting out of the situation alive is practically non-existing. Hogan is going to face a lot, be sure of it.

Thank you for reading the chapter – and, like always, I want to know how you liked the new update.

Have a nice rest of Sunday and a good start into the next week,

Love

Yours Starflight