Hi, my dear readers!
A big, big THANK-YOU for the feedback. Like I said often before, I'm total happy that the story has gotten fans, and it really is a joy to go through the chapters, edit here and there something and publish it afterwards. And – lucky us all – for the time my beta-reader is still too busy to follow her / mine hobby, another dear reader was so kind and offered me her help.
Lils, thank you!
Therefore the following chapter is edited and certainly with less errors than before.
Enjoy,
Happy Halloween for everyone
Yours Starlflight
Chapter 10 – Desperate plans, part 2
The drive from Stalag 13 to the farm-house of the Schneider family didn't last longer than ten minutes, but as the motor-bike finally stopped, LeBeau thought that not one bone in his body was still there where it belonged. To ride a side-car was never that pleasant, but being stuffed in its foot-well while it rolled over iced streets which shouldn't even be named 'street' was hell. He was certain that he had gotten dozens of bruises, yet he didn't complain about it. He simply knew that Hogan got it much worse in the moment than him.
Hilda could see that her parents had lit some candles within the house and she saw movement behind the curtains as she stepped out of the side-car and threw the blanket back, while von Neuhaus dismounted the motor-bike and rounded the vehicle.
"Did you enjoy the ride?" he asked, while offering her his arm again.
Hilda laughed softly and beamed at him. "Oh yes, I did. Thank you so very much, Herr Leutnant." She was still smiling as he walked her to the door, then she yelped and tripped to the side. Von Neuhaus had good reflexes and caught her before she could hit the snowy ground. "Fräulein Schneider!" he gasped, supporting her.
"I turned my ankle," she said with pain in her voice, hopping on one leg. "Damn snow!"
Worried, he bent down. "May I see?" Of course, there wasn't much to see given the fact that she wore boots, but it gave him the chance to have a closer look at her legs and even clad in black SS with the Gestapo-pin on his tie, he was also only a man. Carefully he gripped her ankle and moved the foot a little bit, and Hilda promptly whimpered with pitiful 'ouch' and 'oh'.
Looking over the Leutnant's bent figure she saw LeBeau slipping out of the side-car and placing the blankets back into a heap – the same moment von Neuhaus straightened his shape. Without hesitation Hilda put one arm around his neck as if searching for support and asked pitifully, "Could you help me into the house, please?"
"Of course," he answered. "And I shall do even more. With your permission…" He lifted her on his arms and closed the distance to the door that opened in just this minute, and a man in the beginning of his fifties stood there; supporting himself with crutches.
"Hilda?" he asked concerned; eyeing the Leutnant warily.
"Papa," she said with a teary smile. "Leutnant von Neuhaus was so nice to bring me home. I turned my ankle and…"
Herr Schneider moved back from the door to allow the officer to step in; face expressionless. "Thank you, Herr Leutnant, this was very kind of you."
LeBeau had already hastened around the house corner the moment von Neuhaus had picked up the young woman. The Frenchman couldn't help himself: Inwardly he applauded Hilda for her flawless acting abilities. 'It's a good thing that she is on our side,' he thought with wry humor, then he looked around. He knew that the Schneiders lived in the east of Hammelburg, which meant he would have to walk into the north-west direction to reach the little town. Pulling out the compass he had taken from the stored equipment Hogan and the others had stored beneath the barracks, he checked the direction in which he had to go.
Yet he would have to wait until von Neuhaus was gone to avoid any chance to be seen by him. Five minutes later the Leutnant stepped out of the house, and called over his shoulder, "Get better, Fräulein Schneider. And if your foot isn't better by morning, take a day off. If you're not at the camp at 9 o'clock I will know that your ankle is still bad and advice one of my men to do the office's routine, so don't fret."
"Thank you so much, Herr Leutnant. I'm so sorry for the mess, but…"
"Hilda – you allow me to call you this?"
LeBeau rolled his eyes as he heard the young woman giggling and answering, "A pleasure, Herr Leutnant."
"As I said, don't worry for a sick-day – and you didn't put me out by driving you home or by carrying you to your parents' home. It was a pleasure. Good night."
"Good night, Herr Leutnant, and thank you once again for taking care of my daughter," a man's voice said.
"You are welcome, Herr Schneider. Good night."
Then the motor-bike was started and drove away into the dark evening. LeBeau heard how the door was closed and breathed in relief. Part 2 of the plan had worked, too.
*** HH ***
The POWs were summoned to evening roll call like every day – except for the day prior, but that was the past. Langenscheidt called them out onto the yard and like usual they took their positions in front of the barracks they lived in. Karl counted the men, ignored their still furious mood and sighed inwardly. He feared that nothing would be the same any more.
Stepping to the prisoners of Barracks 2, he also counted them, calling them by their names quietly.
"Newkirk?"
"Here."
"Carter?"
"Here."
"LeBeau?"
"Oui."
"Ols…" He stopped dead in his tracks. Yes, these were LeBeau's clothes and the man had spoken French, but… this wasn't the corporal's voice! It sounded similar, but it wasn't the same.
Turning around, he looked back at the small figure of the Frenchman. He stood there like he did so often – with his arms crossed and with his head slightly lowered in silent protest, cap drawn down, but… there was something off. He was petit in body, but not as tiny as LeBeau.
Returning to the prisoner, he gasped as the man lifted his face – and turned out to be Alex Rames. "What…" Langenscheidt began, shocked.
"Charly," Kinchloe addressed him quietly without turning his head; using the English familiar form of the corporal's given name on full purpose. "You said you wanted to help if we've a chance to rescue the colonel. Now is your chance to do so."
Langenscheidt almost choked. "You… you…" he sputtered, lost for words.
"LeBeau will be back as soon as he can. I promise."
Karl felt dizzy for a moment, before he quickly closed the distance to Kinch and pierced him with a sharp gaze. "Where is LeBeau?" he asked with his voice lowered.
Kinchloe took a deep breath. "He's off to Hammelburg – to inform Colonel Klink of what is going on here." All right, this wasn't the whole truth. LeBeau would try to contact the Underground, and only if this would fail he maybe would run to the hospital to get Klink. They hadn't even spoken about this possibility openly. Only Carter had brought up this subject while talking with Baker and him during the late morning, but this – the sergeant had to admit – could be indeed an option, yet he would prefer if the Underground could lend them a hand.
"How… how did he get out?" Langenscheidt whispered hectically.
"What shall I say? It isn't you guys in charge here, but the SS. Under Klink's command none of us were able to successfully escape," Kinch answered casually; almost sounding like Hogan in that moment.
Karl groaned. He knew that it was his damn duty to report the missing prisoner instantly as soon as von Neuhaus was back. Hell, he even should tell the new 'colleagues' about the incident, but…
His gaze wandered over the other men, who were Hogan's closest friends. He saw the tension in their posture that had nothing to do with being in deep water. No, they only feared for their commanding officer, who was also their friend and who certainly was going through hell for hours now…
Rubbing his face with one hand, Langenscheidt knew that it was up to him now. He could report LeBeau's escape which would lead to an area-wide search – and that would certainly mean that no help would reach Hogan in time before Hochstetter had tortured him to insanity or death. Or he could handle the whole thing like Schultz would do it: Hearing and seeing nothing.
The same moment von Neuhaus returned on the motor-bike, parked it in front of the Kommandantur, dismounted the vehicle and strolled with large steps towards the lined-up prisoners.
"Corporal Langenscheidt, report!" he demanded.
For tormenting long seconds, Kinchloe, Carter, Newkirk, Baker and the others looked with almost unbearable tension at Langenscheidt beggingly; almost willing him not to give them away.
Then Karl turned around. "All prisoners are present, Herr Leutnant."
Kinch and the others had learned to hide reactions – to control their features. But just right now the relief they felt was almost too strong. Langenscheidt stood true to his word – he just had aided them in their desperate attempt to save Hogan.
*** HH *** HH ***
General Albert Burkhalter stepped into his office with the mother of all headaches. The meeting was over. Finally. He had thought that there would be no end to the endless discussion that happened between the most available generals and admirals, Himmler and Göring themselves. Even the Führer had attended the meeting for a few hours before he left for his own office. The discussions had gone back and forth, some generals had realized that Germany couldn't win the war anymore with the Allied United Forces gaining more and more ground; coming closer to the original German border day by day.
Other generals denied this fact and waited that the newest generation of air-fighter Messerschmidt ME-262 could finally be produced en-masse, yet the underground factory in Thüringen had started its work only a few days ago. Burkhalter was realistic and knew that the production of the new-constructed plane that was about 180 km/h quicker than that of the Allies had begun too late. And, what was nonsense in Burkhalter's and may other Luftwaffe general's opinion: The ME-262 V5 was constructed as an interceptor and fighter in airspace, and as a 'quick-bomber' for the attack of ground-targets. The argument between Hitler and the staff-officers of the Luftwaffe had almost escalated a few weeks ago, and Burkhalter knew the man well enough to recognize that the Führer was about to withdraw his confidence. What this could mean for them all was something even an idiot could count on two fingers.
Burkhalter, and even Göring, were frustrated by now. It seemed that Hitler had lost all senses for the reality. An interceptor with newest drive-technics that should be used as a bomber; new attacks against the East Front that costed thousands of lives without the tiniest chance of victory; defense line against the approaching Allied ground forces which were simply overrun. Every man with a little sense for strategies and an intact sane mind could see that it was only a question of time when the war would be lost for Germany, The Führer, of course, didn't see it this way and demanded that the fight would go on 'til 'the last man'.
Burkhalter almost saw no reason of sacrificing more good men in a war that was as good as lost. Yet he was clever enough to keep his thoughts for himself. Firing squads were quickly built these days and a lot of good officers had been executed because their insight had woken Hitler's rage. Even the flyer-ass Adolf Galland, who had tested the newest Messerschmidt and insisted of using it for the defense and not for an attack, had been close to fall from grace. At least, given the current situation, Hitler had been finally ready to allow Galland and many other officers of the Luftwaffe to use the ME-262 V5 sometimes as 'simple' hunters – that meant, when there would be finally enough planes to use them on a grand scale.
Burkhalter knew that the latter was nothing more than wishing by now. The hidden factory in Thüringen still wasn't fully functional and the other projects connected to the ME-262 near Munich and other towns were only in construction. The new plane that could change everything would come too late, but – of course – the Führer, in his obsession, turned a blind eye on this fact.
'The man is a maniac,' he thought not for the first time within the last weeks. 'He'd lost his mind – but there is no going back now. We can only hope that we can delay the invasion of Germany long enough to give the people a chance to adjust to everything.'
His secretary Heike Hohlbrecht, a woman of middle age with a bun, wearing a high-necked blouse beneath her lady's suit, looked up and peeked over her glasses. "Herr General, a good evening," she greeted him with her typical cool politeness.
"Frau Hohlbrecht, still at work I see," he said; looking to the mantle clock that showed that it was already past nine o'clock.
"I waited for your return," she answered, rose and took his coat from him. "How was the meeting?"
He snorted. "Long – and without a true result. The talks were turning in circles. I don't even think we really agreed on a strategy in the end." He suppressed a yawn. "Has anything important happened during my absence?"
"Not much, Herr General, but I got an urgent call from Stalag 13 this morning and…"
"No," Burkhalter groaned and made a face as if he was in great pain. "What has Klink done now? Did he break a finger-nail, or did he complain of Hogan drinking his cognac?"
Frau Hohlbrecht hesitated for a moment, before she answered, "Oberst Klink was very furious, Herr General. He reported that Major Hochstetter of the Gestapo arrested his senior POW officer and then tried to murder him. He also…"
"What?" Burkhalter went rigid. "What kind of nonsense is this that Hochstetter tried to murder Hogan? I know the two can't stand each other – to tell the truth I also like to see the major's back rather than his front – but this would go too far."
The secretary sighed. "I made a detailed telephone-note of what the Oberst told me. If you please would have a look at it? I do believe that this important – at least for the commanding officer of all Luftwaffe-Stalags."
Accepting the hint and taking the sheet from the woman's hand, he read the first lines – and his face got a very dangerous shade of deep red. "What on Earth…" he whispered while he continued to read, before he exploded, "Has Hochstetter finally lost his mind completely? How dare he… Hogan is a prisoner of the Luftwaffe and not… And he left him and Klink to die in the middle of a hostile ambush?"
He whirled around, and this was a speed you never would have thought him capable of given his fat figure. "This is enough! I finally have had enough from this crazy gnome!" He almost ran towards his office.
"Call Stalag 13, Frau Hohlbrecht. I do hope that Hochstetter didn't make any further steps after Klink and Hogan made it back alive. I've to know more details. And then get me the Gestapo-Headquarters in Hammelburg and link me to Major Hochstetter. If he moves only one more finger to endanger personnel and prisoners of one of OUR Stalags, he faces court martial." The door to his office slammed shut and the secretary tried to do as ordered.
Inside of the general's office, Burkhalter went to the commode and poured himself a cognac; mad as hell. Of course, he knew about the rivalry between SS / Gestapo and Luftwaffe. And that Hochstetter was obsessed with the idea that Hogan was an Underground-agent was nothing new, but this had gone too far. There were laws and rules placed within this land, and POWs were strictly protected by the Geneva Convention, watched by the neutral Red Cross. Any violation could lead to unpleasant consequences and even the Third Reich didn't want to annoy Swiss institutions. Switzerland was neutral – and its famous banks held a lot of German money. Money the Führer needed, therefore he went along with the Swiss's demands concerning human rights. To mess with the Swiss – and especially with the Red Cross – would be anything but smart.
And all this aside: Burkhalter hated it when someone was invading his territory. And the Stalags and Oflags were his responsibility – an important part of the damn job he had to do. He really had no time to grabble with Gestapo-majors whose ego was the size of the Mount Everest. And Hochstetter especially was a kind of man he loathed. Yet…
"Herr General, I'm sorry, but obviously Hammelburg belongs to the area that is cut off from any power because of the Allies' attack of the power central near Würzburg. Hammelburg, Bad Kissingen, Bad Brückenau… all towns suffer the power blackout." Frau Hohlbrecht, who stood on the threshold, glanced unhappily at her superior; already knowing what his reaction would be.
It turned out that she knew Burkhalter very well, because at the first harsh curses she quickly left his office and firmly closed the door behind her before she had to listen to the not so fine rambling and swearing.
Burkhalter calmed down after a minute and sat down behind his desk. Every time he thought the whole situation couldn't get worse, it simply got worse.
First, the aircraft attacks within the last days which had decommissioned dozens of weapon-producing companies, rail stations and even airports. The airfield of Tempelhof in Berlin resembled a Swizz cheese and even hundreds of eager hands couldn't jam the many holes! A part of North-Bavaria was out of power for hours now and a part of the Rhine area suffered a power breakdown too, because the Allies bombed power stations now. The Allied troops were gaining more and more ground and were about to reach Bavaria, Saxony and the Saarland within the next one or two months at the latest, while the German fleet suffered a lot of losses and therefore the war at sea was as good as decided, too. Burkhalter really didn't know what the Führer expected from the generals and admirals, but fighting a war under all those circumstances would never lead to a success.
And now this trouble with the Gestapo – only because a crazy major thought a POW was a spy and active saboteur. Well, one thing Burkhalter had to admit: If someone could pull such a stunt, it would be Hogan. The general wasn't blind to the fact that the American colonel was a highly intelligent, brilliant man. The boyish behavior Hogan often displayed was certainly a part of his personality, no doubt, but Burkhalter assumed that this was also a mask to trick others into believing Hogan was an innocent lamb. In truth the colonel was anything but an angel, even if he seemed to emphasize that no-one within Stalag 13 would come to grief. And this didn't only go for his own men, but also for the camp's personnel – including Klink.
Especially Klink. Burkhalter's gaze found the paper with the protocol of Klink's call.
It almost sounded unbelievable that Hogan had forfeited a true chance to escape, only to save Klink, yet this was somehow a typical reaction for the colonel. Hogan always seemed to be at the right time at the right place to come to Klink's aid – whether it was to protect the Oberst against his superiors' wrath or to protect him against real danger. And as much as Klink sometimes groused about the disrespectful way Hogan often behaved, the Kommandant stood protectively in front of his senior POW officer whenever it was necessary. Yet what happened yesterday was far more than the usual support they gave each other.
Yes, Burkhalter anticipated for quite a time now that the two men had developed an uneasy kind of friendship, but that Hogan risked another attempt at being arrested by Hochstetter only to protect Klink was strange – to say it carefully. Hogan was far too intelligent not to know what would happen to him if Hochstetter got his hands on him, yet he put Klink's safety above his own. This led to one question: How well had this odd friendship between those two already bloomed? Klink went all hero all of sudden and Hogan failed his duty to flee. This was… crazy at best.
A log cracked in the open fireplace and brought him back to present.
The whole trouble in Hammelburg wasn't something Burkhalter took lightly. He knew Hochstetter. The man wouldn't give it a rest before he had accomplished his goal – maybe even threatening Klink and the whole camp. The general was well aware of the fact that Klink bowed far too quickly and rarely tried to stand up for his opinion or his regards. The whole situation could run out of control with Hochstetter being a possessed madman and Klink being a cowering idiot. All right, obviously yesterday the Oberst had developed some courage by saving Hogan in the middle of an ambush, yet Burkhalter was convinced that this was only a short blaze of bravery Klink quickly would lose again.
And there was another thought that troubled Burkhalter. He knew how beloved Hogan was among his men. If something would happen to him – and Hochstetter already manhandled him like Klink reported – an uproar could start in Stalag 13. The whole status in Germany was bad enough without a large POW-camp spinning out of control.
Cursing again, the general rose. There was only one thing he could do to halt the carousel that would turn into a doom loop if it wasn't stopped in time.
Opening the door, he looked at his secretary. "Frau Hohlbrecht, tell my driver to ready my car. I'm driving to Hammelburg to stop those two idiots from initiating a loop of violence sooner or later. Then try to reach Stalag 13 or the Gestapo-Headquarter in Hammelburg, and link them to the radio in my car as soon as the power is back and one of the two facilities is reachable. Tell my adjutant that he shall replace you within that hour. I can't demand you work through the whole night."
"Jawohl, Herr General. And thank-you for your concern."
Burkhalter closed the door again and went back to his desk. He would have to inform a few other generals of his departure and that he couldn't attend the meeting that was planned for tomorrow. 'At least one good thing comes out of the chaos. I don't have to listen to the endless discussions so soon again.'
*** HH *** HH ***
LeBeau swore quietly beneath his breath while he forced his way through the woods – the using the compass. It had begun to snow again, but at least the wind had died down and that made the cold temperature more bearable. Yet it also prevented him from crossing the distance to the little town in the usual short time of an hour. He was already walking for three hours and he hadn't reached Hammelburg until now.
Then, all of sudden, the first houses were to see and groaning in frustration he realized that the power was either not back online or was switched off because of the rationing and the general brownout in Germany. Stepping nearer, he became aware of another oddity: There were no people out on the street. Not one single person – not even a lady with a dog. Right, it was in the middle of the evening and it was unpleasant weather, but usually workers were on their way home, but now…
Then he saw a movement on the other end of the street and he instinctively slipped into the next front garden – hiding beneath the fence. He had to wait a few minutes until he saw two men patrolling the street; wearing black SS.
'Curfew!' the truth hit LeBeau. 'They imposed a curfew. And I bet my last shirt that this bosche Hochstetter ordered it – fearing that some of us are going to get Hogan out of his grip!'
This would make the whole mission even more difficult. He would have to walk the way to the next home of an Underground-agent with more caution than usual if he didn't want to be arrested.
'That would top anything: Me being brought to Hochstetter and with Hogan already in jail. This would be the last proof of our secret operations and the damn swine would rub his hands in glee.'
Sighing he waited until the two guards were out of sight and slipped back onto the street. Hopefully he would make it. He had to – or Hogan would pay the price.
Half an hour later he finally reached the single-family house in which one of their contact-men lives – or lady in this case. Louis didn't even know her true name; for all his comrades she was 'Red Riding Hood' and was one of the last remaining original Underground-agents, who hadn't been caught by a razzia of the Gestapo a few months ago. She was the right hand of the leading agent Oskar Danzig, who was also still operating and never got caught – last but not least because he was a man of 'a thousand faces' and changed disguises and masks like the transvestite star he had been before the war broke loose. Louis hoped that Danzig was in the area. With him the chance to free Hogan would rise drastically.
Ringing the bell – looking over and over around to make sure no SS-men were snooping up – he had to wait until finally a little window in the door opened and he faced the young woman in her middle thirties; blond hair pushed up in an unruly bun.
"LeBeau?" she asked perplex.
"Oui, ma chérie," he nodded; giving her his best charming smile.
"Guter Gott (Sweet Lord), are you mad?" She opened the door hastily and pulled him inside before he could comprehend what was going on. Closing the door, she turned to face him. "The Gestapo ordered a curfew. Anyone who's caught outside until tomorrow will be arrested or shot."
"That fits," the Frenchman replied darkly. "Hochstetter doesn't run a risk after he finally got mon colonel in his dirty fingers."
The woman raised both brows and glanced startled at him. "Hogan… was arrested?"
"Oui, the bosche Hochstetter says he has some proofs that the colonel belongs to the Underground and arrested him. Klink is in hospital, the Gestapo took over Stalag 13, placed SS-men as additional guards in our camp and everything is about to go down, if we don't act quickly."
'Red Riding Hood' crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Is this the reason for you coming here – to ask us to get Hogan out of custody?"
"Oui. We've no chance to do it alone, because Hochstetter knows us too well by now. He would reveal anyone of us, if we wear German uniform or not. Therefore, we can't go to his headquarters and pretend to be some high ranking member of the brass to whom he has to deliver the colonel. But you guys…"
"LeBeau, Hammelburg is without power and I can't call or radio anyone from the organization. Danzig is near Mannheim, preparing a meeting with the American supreme commander who has his legions already in North-France and Belgium. Most of us went with Danzig. And you know that there aren't many of us left by now – thanks to you guys mixing up the area for three years now."
LeBeau groaned. Not this again. "Ma petite, Colonel Hogan risked his neck over and over again to save you and your friends, smuggled many of you out of Germany, and helped the Underground whenever it was necessary. You can't let him down now – and you know it!" His temper was beginning to rise, and obviously the woman realized it, because she said gently,
"I'll try to contact a few of us, but before the power is back, there is no chance for it."
LeBeau frowned. "This could last some time – time Colonel Hogan doesn't have." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'll go to the hospital and…"
"The curfew! Don't forget about it. If you're caught they'll shoot you – or the Gestapo learns because of your presence in Hammelburg that you and therefore Hogan are indeed Underground-agents, because you couldn't be here otherwise." The woman sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on upstairs, I'll make you a coffee."
Coffee… As good as this sounded, LeBeau would have preferred a quick rescue-chance a thousand times over. How could he enjoy a coffee, knowing that Hogan was still facing torture – maybe even in this very moment? Yet there was the curfew. Everything would be indeed lost if he got caught.
Rubbing his forehead with despair, he followed the woman upstairs…
*** HH ***
He was dreaming. He knew that he dreamed, because the last time he saw his mother she hadn't looked so young. And Jason, his older brother, glanced at him with mirth – a mirth the twelve year old teenager and his younger brother Robert shared. Yet it was young Robert who always came up with the pranks, who planned everything and who got himself and his brother out of hairy situations when they were about to be caught by their 'prey'.
"Really, Rob, you shouldn't have done this," his mother sighed. "The Smiths are very nice people and you played this nasty prank on them." Then she looked at Jason. "And you should be too old for something like this by now. Instead of supporting Robert you should stop him."
The two boys looked at each other and giggled. The sight of Mrs. Smith clamoring and scolding while she tried to avoid the mice the two brothers had placed into her kitchen, had been one to behold.
"You should have seen her, Mom. She jumped onto the table and screeched like a Banshee because of three little mice," Rob chuckled, while his older brother laughed out aloud.
Mrs. Hogan shook her head and it was clear that she imagined everything for a moment, before she turned stern again. "Yet you gave the poor lady a lot of trouble. At least you can apologize to her."
The scene faded, and Robert was in the garden behind his parent's house. Jason sat beside him, reading a book and was utterly relaxed. Robert looked around. It was early summer, the trees wore their sated green, the air was warm, and a soft breeze played with his dark strains. Birds were singing and he heard the soft splashing of water while his father was watering the garden.
Robert smiled. In the evening they would make a barbecue with the new neighbors, and in a few days school would be over. They planned to travel to the sea for holidays and…
And a sharp pain made him gasp. Clinging to his left side, he tried to stop the burning sensation, but it grew even worse.
"You've to be careful, Rob. He's getting to you," Jason said, and young Robert stared with startled eyes at him, because all of sudden his brother was already forty and wore the uniform of the US Air Force – looking exactly like the last time he had seen him on the airfield before Robert was about to start his secret mission in Nazi-Germany.
"Be careful, little brother. Don't let them catch you," Jason almost begged him. "Return safe and sound, okay?"
The garden melted into darkness, the warm air turned into icy coldness and it was eerily silent. The last he saw was Jason's pleading face and heard his brother begging him to stay alive, then everything vanished and…
…And he found himself in a dark, cold room on the hard floor.
For a long moment Hogan was utterly disoriented, then the memories flooded back. He was in Germany, following orders for a special operation that had landed him in a POW-camp where he organized an espionage ring, aided the Underground and smuggled escapees out of the land. And just right now he was…
In the Gestapo-Headquarters in Hammelburg – and at the mercy of his personal nemesis who had sworn to break him.
And Hochstetter was doing a good job, this much Hogan had to give him.
There wasn't a spot on his body left that didn't hurt. He was bleeding from several injuries, he was nauseous from losing consciousness, his back burnt from all the lashes he got, and his head ached. He was thirsty like never before because any water had been denied to him. His arms gave him hell, too, because they were still bound on his back, while a rope was connected with his neck in a hangman's noose– strangling him every time he tried to move his arms more than a few centimeters.
"Like this you can get used to your last moments," Hochstetter had sneered, and Hogan had realized that the major had to be mentally sick. There was no other explanation for someone doing such things and even relishing in it.
Shivering, Hogan closed his eyes and tried to blend out the bitter cold in the dungeon. You couldn't call the cellars something else. He had to cough, and the burning pain returned into his left side, as his broken ribs were put to even more distress. At least the 'questioning' had stopped for now, because even Hochstetter seemed to need some rest. But this pause wouldn't last for long; this much was certain.
Fighting a sudden burning in his eyes as desperation tried to overwhelm him, Hogan sent a prayer to all higher beings which maybe would hear him. He yearned for the whole procedure being over soon – one way or the other. He hoped to provoke his nemesis enough that the major would kill him in one of the raging-fits he already went through because despite name, rank and serial-number Hogan hadn't spoken another word to his tormentors. Yet he knew that – despite his choleric temper – Hochstetter was too intelligent to lose his chance to gain more information about the Underground by killing Hogan too soon. And until now Hogan wasn't desperate enough to use the cruel way he was tied to end his own life. This was a sin he hadn't considered until now.
Rolling himself into a ball as far as his agonizing muscles and the rope allowed it, he tried to relax and to get some new strengths, before the 'questioning' would start again.
*** HH *** HH ***
The power came back late at night – others would also call it early morning. To test everything the responsible electricity distribution staff decided to skip the rationing for once and to make certain that there weren't any serious damages to the power supply.
Hilda woke up because the lamp in her chamber was suddenly on. Obviously, she had forgotten to switch it off as she went to work last morning and therefore the lamp shone the moment the power was back. Confused she looked at her wrist watch – it was a quarter before five o'clock – and for a moment she simply wanted to snuggle deeper into the blanket, then the memory hit her with all might: Hogan was arrested and delivered to a man who didn't know any mercy, and Klink obviously was clueless about what was going on in his camp.
Slipping out of bed, she tiptoed down into the hallway where the telephone was placed. She had to inform the Oberst of the whole mess – and she had to help Hogan by letting the Oberst know of the newest incidents. She was well aware that there was a kind of comradeship between the two men, and the fact that Klink risked his neck to save Hogan two evenings prior told her a lot about how the Kommandant regarded his senior POW officer.
Lifting the receiver, she demanded to speak with the hospital in Hammelburg immediately, and – thinking it was an emergency – the man of the telephone exchange linked her in no time. But if Hilda thought that she could alert Oberst Klink that easily, she faced a big disappointment.
"What do you think you are doing?" the night nurse snapped at her. "The Herr Oberst suffers a strong bronchitis, got injured and is deeply asleep by now after he was given sleeping pills. I will not wake him because…"
"You don't understand, Nurse. I'm the secretary of Stalag 13 and we've a serious issue here. I have to speak with Oberst Klink and…"
"If you have problems in the camp, call the SS. I'm sure they can handle a few POWs. Good night!" The link was cut off – and Hilda swore under her breath.
What now? Oberst Klink was out of question as long as the night nurse was on duty – and every minute Hogan was in Hochstetter's mercy counted. If only she could speak with Burkhalter. He had the power to call Hochstetter off, but she couldn't simply phone him in the middle of the night and…
She hesitated. Why the heck not? This was an emergency, and Klink had ordered that the general had to be informed in detail of what happened as quick as possible. And the worst was that Klink had only been able to give a report of the events until yesterday morning. Burkhalter certainly didn't know that the Gestapo had taken over Stalag 13 and that Hogan was arrested.
And she was the secretary of Stalag 13 and had a damn duty towards her superior – and the man she had a big crush on.
Determined she took the receiver again. "This is Stalag 13 in Hammelburg. Link me to Berlin, Luftwaffe Headquarters, General Burkhalter, priority one, code red!" she demanded in her best stern voice.
*** HH ***
The lonely staff-car headed down the road – lamps blended out so that the vehicle didn't drive any attention. Several times this night the driver and the General had heard the hum of aircrafts, and one time they even watched the detonations of bombs from far away – hitting Kassel – but at least the car wasn't spied by the allies. And even if so: They weren't interested in a lonely car. Who should know that one of the Luftwaffe's Generals was driving through this snowy night?
General Burkhalter sat on the back seat, had leant back and snored softly. He had finally fallen asleep, and his driver was anything but angry about it. The first hour of their journey he had had to listen to the general's endless rambling about 'possessed Gestapo-Majors', 'idiotic Stalag-Kommandanten', 'reckless American POWs', and so on. Then the general's mood had even worsened as they had to tank up and the driver had to pump the gasoline himself, because the station had already closed, the power was switched off because of the rationing and the whole process needed more than an hour until they could continue their journey.
Burkhalter had fallen asleep as they had already left Kassel behind, and they were now near the north of Fulda, as the radio in the car sprang alive. It creaked and there was a lot of acoustic noise until finally he heard the voice of Sergeant Diekmann of the Luftwaffe-Headquarters – coming in on a new frequency non-interceptable by the Allies' aircrafts (hopefully).
Burkhalter woke up with a gasp; clearly startled. "What's the matter? Are we under attack?" he asked; still groggy and therefore disoriented.
"No, Herr General, Headquarters is calling us," the driver replied and turned up the volume.
"General Burkhalter, Sergeant Diekmann is speaking here," a male voice sounded from the speaker; interferences were making it difficult to understand him properly. "Sir, I've the secretary of Stalag 13 for you in the line."
"What?" Burkhalter's eyes widened. It was deep night – early morning. What was Fräulein Hilda doing in the camp at this God-forsaken time? "Put her through!" he demanded while he bent forwards between the driver- and the front passenger seat. A moment later he heard the pleasant, but obviously very flustered voice of Klink's secretary.
"General Burkhalter?"
"Yes, it's me, child. Sweet Lord, what are you doing at this time in the camp, my dear? Where is Klink? Why doesn't he…"
"Herr General, I'm sorry for interrupting you, sir, but I've no clue how long the power will last – and I'm calling from home, not from Stalag 13. Sir, you've to come to Hammelburg – please! Oberst Klink is in hospital, the Gestapo took over Stalag 13, Colonel Hogan was arrested and Major Hochstetter made it very clear to everyone that the colonel would not return alive. And then…"
"One moment, my dear," Burkhalter cut into the flood of hectic words. "One thing after the next. Klink is in hospital?"
"Yes, sir. He got injured while saving Colonel Hogan the evening prior, and he also relapsed with his cold – maybe he even got pneumonia. Then Major Hochstetter came to the camp after the Oberst went to hospital, put one of his own underlings in charge, threatened Corporal Langenscheidt that he had to obey or would be court-martialed, and then he took Colonel Hogan with him. They beat the colonel, sir – violently – and I watched how Hochstetter tore at Hogan's hair and whispered things to him; sneering like mad. It… it was like he was possessed by a demon."
Burkhalter took a deep breath. He had feared that Hochstetter wouldn't give up his goal, but that the evil gnome took over one of the Luftwaffe's Stalags without consulting him about it, was the peak of insolence – and transgressed the major's competences.
"Stay calm, my dear, I'm already on my way to Hammelburg…"
"Thank the Lord!"
"… and will reach it in…?" He looked questioningly at his drive via the driving mirror.
"In approx. two hours, sir," the man answered.
"You heard that, Fräulein Hilda?"
"Yes, Herr General. I'm glad. What shall I do in the meantime?"
"Nothing, child. Stay at home and let me handle everything. I will try to get Hochstetter in the line – and if it comes to the worst I'll pay him a personal visit before I drive to Stalag 13. Don't fear, everything will turn out to be okay."
"Please hurry, Herr General. Hochstetter… he said he has proof that Colonel Hogan is an active Underground-agent, but I think he simply made up something to get his personal revenge. You should have seen him, sir. He was overjoyed to get the colonel and even smiled as his men punched and manhandled Hogan. It was… sickening."
Burkhalter sighed inwardly at this display of worry. Of course, it hadn't slipped his attention that the young lady had a little soft spot for the American officer, and he couldn't blame her. Hogan was an attractive man with a lot of charm when it came to the ladies. There was no doubt about it. And as long as Fräulein Hilda didn't forget that Hogan was technically an enemy and stood true to her duty and remained loyal, he had no problem with the girl flirting with the colonel.
Yet besides these thoughts, it irritated him that Hochstetter maybe used his position to his own strictly personal advantage. This was unacceptable! And Burkhalter had to admit that – even if Hogan sometimes got on his nerves – he respected the American in a certain way. If Hogan fell prey to Hochstetter's personal wrath, he would have the major's head for it.
"As I said, Fräulein Hilda, don't be afraid. I am going to take matters in my own hands – and Hochstetter will learn what it means to interfere with my territory. Go back to bed, my dear, it's still far too early to be up – and take the day off. I'm sure that the next hours will be ugly and I don't want you to be caught in the middle of it."
He could almost hear her relieved smile, as she answered, "Thank you so much, Herr General. I knew everything would turn towards the better as soon as you learned of everything."
"Your trust in my abilities is great, my dear, and I'll try not to disappoint you. I'll get word to you as soon as everything is over. Now, go back to sleep. Good night." He waved at the driver, who cut off the link.
"What now, sir?"
"Speed up, Sergeant. We're needed in Hammelburg. And then radio my office. Sergeant Diekmann will have the nice job of getting into contact with Hochstetter." He leant back in his seat. "The gnome is going to answer a few unpleasant questions!"
TBC…
Yes, like I already pointed it out this part of the story will be a little bit darker and sinister, yet I hope it wasn't too harsh. The next and the following one will be even harder.
Despite the more or less hopeless situation, Hogan's friends don't give up (even Langenscheidt supports them), and help is even on its way in shape of General Burkhalter, only the question remains: Will they able to intervene in time? Hochstetter is no fool and knows that he will be in big trouble if Hogan can tell his tale…
In the next chapter LeBeau will be forced to take unusual measurements; Hochstetter freaks out and fate is closing up on our colonel. A tiny light of hope seems to come from an unknown side, yet will it be enough?
I hope you liked the new chapter, and – like always – I'm really curious about your reactions.
Have a 'Happy Halloween',
Love
Yours Starflight
