Hi, my dear readers!
Sorry that the next update was delayed, but my poor beta-reader caught a nasty cold (just like Klink, *smile*) and had to stay in bed for a few days. But now the next chapter is ready to be published and I think it will elicited some 'whoops' and other stronger reactions.
Given the whole cliff-hanger at the end of the last chapter, I don't want to tell you anything what you can expect now.
Have fun,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 12 – The ‚Iron Eagle' returns
Schultz was someone who didn't mistake a street for a race track. He always drove reasonably and presciently. But just right now he didn't care for speed limits or that there was still a lot of snow on the street. With a speed that was anything but advisable given the weather, he headed for the Gestapo-Headquarters; listening with one ear to what LeBeau told Klink during the short trip. Obviously a lot of unpleasant incidents had taken place within Stalag 13 since the Gestapo had taken over the camp and the SS-guards even tried to order the Luftwaffe-guards around. And, by the way, Schultz learned of the way Hogan had been treated during his arrest. It was outraging, to put it mildly.
Klink only halfheartedly listened, because his mind and soul were already at the Headquarters; fearing for Hogan's life. He could only assume of what all had been done to his American counterpart, and every imagining was worse than the one before. He knew that Hogan had been caught in a living hell, while he – Klink – had slept soundly and peacefully in a warm, comfortable bed. All right, he hadn't known of everything that had happened, but hadn't he feared that Hochstetter would act the moment he learned that Hogan was still alive? Hadn't he had this nasty feeling since the hour he had left the camp? He should have listened to his inner voice and returned to Stalag 13 as soon as the examination and the treating of his graze-wounds were finished. But no, he had chosen to stay in hospital, when he also could have cured himself in his quarters at the camp. He would have learned of Hogan's arrest so much sooner, could have stopped the torment hours ago!
The guilty conscience seemed to fester endlessly, while deep in him this nagging feeling became stronger and stronger.
Robert needed him. For once, it was Hogan who needed his help, not the other way around. Robert's life was in danger – Klink could feel it in his bones.
His gaze found LeBeau, who had finished his report and looked tense and with fear in his eyes at nothing. Klink still hadn't the tiniest idea how the little Frenchman had managed to get out of the camp – after all, it was well-known that no-one escaped SS-members easily. The black-clad men were…
Another thought hit Klink. Mostly the same men accompanied Hochstetter, and a lot of SS-members stationed here in Hammelburg had already been to Stalag 13. The chance that one of them could identify LeBeau because of his unique small size – and he was an escaped POW – could lead to trouble for the corporal. After all, there was the newest order that any caught POW on flight could be shot without a trial.
LeBeau was one of the biggest mockingbirds in the camp, his mood could turn sour from one moment to the next when he had to cook something for Klink's guests and he rarely showed respect. On the other hand, he had befriended Schultz (of course, given LeBeau's culinary abilities and the sergeant's weakest spot – namely food), could be funny, was an extraordinary cook and, what was most important for Klink at the moment, was one of Hogan's closest friends and loyal to the death. Klink could imagine what Hogan would feel should something bad happen to the Frenchman.
"Schultz, stop the car before we turn into the next street."
Confused, Hans looked into the back-mirror. "Jawohl, Herr Kommandant." He parked the car at the street's side and Klink looked at Louis.
"Corporal LeBeau, I don't want to risk that the Gestapo gets wind of your little trip from the camp to the hospital. You could face real trouble. Therefore, you shall wait here until we're back to pick you up. I demand your word as a gentleman and an officer that you don't try to escape for real while Schultz and I get Hogan out of Hochstetter's clutches. Understood?"
LeBeau, surprised, blinked at him. "But Colonel, I could help you…"
"No," Klink impatiently shook his head. "Your presence would worsen everything and leave questions concerning how one of my POWs could flee with such obvious ease. Hochstetter would also think that I'm really involved with Hogan's little gang when he learns that you didn't take the chance to escape for real but ran to me for help. We all do not need any more suspicion than we already have gained. So, no discussion, out of the car and wait here. Hurry, we've no time to lose!"
Realizing that Klink was right for once, LeBeau quickly stepped out of the car. As he closed the door he heard the Kommandant ordering, "Schultz, full speed! Stop at nothing!" The Sergeant of the Guards kicked the pedal and the vehicle drove off with rising tempo.
"Hurry, Schultzie," LeBeau whispered. "I agree with Klink that Hogan is in desperate need of rescue."
*** HH ***
Leutnant Schmidt walked down the street and headed towards the hospital. He knew that he would face a lot of trouble later with his superior officer for this solo action that would – hopefully – stop the major's sick deeds, but he didn't care. He had joined the Abwehr in earlier times because he had known that the biggest risk didn't lie in open combat, but within danger that came hidden, secretly and from the inner country. He had also known that the enemy would send spies and saboteurs to undermine the Third Reich and that those men and women had to be stopped, but what had happened within the last year, politically and socially, was the beginning of hell.
He had lost faith in this regime that had turned into madness – and he had begun to almost admire the warriors of the different Underground organizations, who lived a double-life and fought against the down-fall of Germany in a different way by fighting against Hitler and his fellows. And if the American colonel – Hogan – was indeed an Underground-agent, Schmidt had another reason to admire the man's bravery. There couldn't be a lot of people around the world which would stay silent while being tortured like this.
He reached the next crossroads and stopped dead in his tracks, as a gray staff-car came around the corner, barely lowering speed which made the passengers almost tumble over in their seat. He saw a large man on the driver's seat, wearing Luftwaffe-blue, and behind him sat another man, wearing the Luftwaffe-coat of an officer – an Oberst. And even if he had never met Oberst Klink in person until now, he simply knew who the man on the backseat was.
Not giving a damn of what others may think of him, he turned around and ran back the way he'd just come – sliding along the pavement because of the hard-packed snow. He reached the Gestapo-Headquarters the moment the staff-car had parked, the two men left the vehicle, and the slender, tall officer with the cap and in the coat practically raced towards the entrance.
Schmidt sped up. He knew that the SS wouldn't allow the officer entry without an official task or being called. "Oberst Klink?" he called from afar, what made the two members of the Luftwaffe turn around. Running even quicker, he reached them several seconds later. "Leutnant Schmidt," he introduced himself; panting. "Sir, are you here for Colonel Hogan?"
"Yes, and don't think you can stop me!" the Oberst almost snarled. Wrath shimmered in his eyes and… Dear God, was that a monocle? If the whole situation weren't so dire, Schmidt would have laughed. Who, for heaven's sake, still wore a monocle like they used to do in the last century? The man was an eccentric, no doubt. But just right now they had other problems.
"Herr Oberst, it isn't my intention to stop you. Rather the opposite. I was on my way to the hospital to get you." He headed towards the entrance. "Hurry up, Gentlemen. I think your POW is in great need of your presence."
Feeling the cold dread crawling even stronger through him at those words, Klink followed the Leutnant into the building that had undergone a few repairs since the attack two years ago but was in bad shape. Inside it was cool and somehow dark, even if the lamps were switched on. Klink had been here several times and he always got an eerie feeling whenever he was inside this house that had been a courthouse before the war started. But just right now he didn't care for the almost sinister atmosphere that clung to the walls and floors which had witnessed too much fear, dread, blood and death. His whole senses were fixed on getting to Hogan.
The Leutnant hastened in front of them, snapped at two guards who tried to step into their way, opened a metal door and quickly walked down the staircase behind it.
Schultz, who had taken his rifle with him, hesitated. "Herr Kommandant, if this is a trap…"
"Nonsense, Schultz, Hochstetter wouldn't be that stupid!" Klink answered without faltering in his almost running steps and dashed down the stairs – following Schmidt. Schultz sighed. 'A man is a fool – and a man in love is three times a fool,' he thought, before he hurried down into the cellar, too.
They reached the bottom of the building and Schmidt turned into a hallway that was only illuminated by a few bare light-bulbs. Several metal doors were visible, of which one was open and framed with two guards, who looked up in alert as the three men came nearer.
"Herr Leutnant, we have orders…" one of them began, but Schmidt cut him off sharply,
"Out of our way, Corporal!"
"But…"
Schmidt stopped in front of the two and opened his mouth to give them a fitting answer, but Klink had no time for this. He heard splashing and struggling – and knew instinctively what was happening and to whom.
Without giving a damn about the two guards, he pushed them roughly out of his way, stormed into the room and stopped for a second in shock as he took in two things: One, Hochstetter had someone by the neck who wore US Air-Force sandy-brown and was forcing him under water, and two, said someone's movements were stilling.
Shock turned into blinding rage – Hochstetter was killing Hogan – and with a roar, Klink was with three steps beside the major who looked up, startled. Klink would never be able to tell what came over him, as he pulled Hochstetter around with unusual strength and punched the Gestapo-officer's jaw hard enough to send the major stumbling backwards. Without giving him a chance to recover, Klink closed the small distance to the other man, gripped his collar with his left hand and with a low growl in his throat delivered another blow to Hochstetter's chin with all the strength he could muster; losing his cap in the process.
With a mixture of a grunt and yelp, Hochstetter tumbled to the ground – sprawled out for once like a fallen doll, unable to move.
"Hogan!" Klink whirled around and caught the bleeding, partly wet figure that was sinking down along the basin's wall. Catching the colonel, he carefully lowered him onto the floor; his hands moved frantically over the younger man's body in search for signs of life.
He could feel some shivers, convulsions, trembles… Then something like a sob and desperate attempt to breathe wracked the American's body. So, Hogan wasn't…
"Someone cut his ties!" Klink shouted, already pressing his hands against the colonel's back to make him spit out the water he had inhaled. With dread he recognized the blood that seeped in stripes through Hogan's shirt; knowing from what it resulted. Yet his priority was to proceed with any life-support as quickly as possible.
There was movement to his right, then Leutnant Schmidt knelt down beside them and cut Hogan's ties with the dagger that often belonged to the SS-uniforms of officers. Not hesitating a moment, Klink turned the American around on his back. He gasped in shock as he barely recognized Hogan's features because of all the bruises, then rationality kicked in like it had rarely done before. Opening Hogan's mouth, Klink pinched the other man's nose with one hand, pressed his mouth over the American's and forced oxygen into his lungs, before he sat up and began the life-giving pressure. Eight-nine-ten times he pressed both hands down on the also bleeding chest beneath him, then he repeated the mouth-to-mouth respiration.
"Come on, Hogan, don't give up!" he panted. "Don't you dare die on me!"
The same moment he heard Schultz shouting, "I would stay where you are if I were you!" He saw movement at the edge of his vision, just before Hogan's body reared up and the first water was spilled out of the colonel's mouth.
"That's it! Spit it out, Hogan. Come on, Robert, do it for me!" he urged; trusting Schultz to control the situation.
Again, he forced air into the younger man's lungs, and finally Hogan got coughing fits and began to disgorge. Not giving a damn about anything else, Klink pulled the colonel's upper body up a little bit and turned the younger man on his side; pressing one hand against his beloved's back. A hoarse whimper escaped the American while he kept spilling out more and more water, interrupted by hectic breathing attempts and convulsing heaves.
Hogan didn't know what was happening. His mind had retreated the moment he realized that he was really dying. There had been nothing more than the cold pressure in his lungs and the darkness that had begun engulfing him. Then there had been shouts, more pain and someone was sobbing. He didn't even realize that the latter was him. Every clear thought had left him, yet his body reacted at the chance to get rid of the water. It felt like his inner being was turned to the outside while burning agony spread through his chest. He wanted to scream, beg anybody to stop the pain, but he couldn't speak. There was no other urge than to breathe but his body didn't allow it because of the water he had to spit. Despite the fact that his mind didn't work, new panic woke in him and…
"Calm down, Robert, just try to breathe!"
That voice – it reached something in him. Somehow on the edge of his conscious mind he knew that he could trust this voice. Then he felt gentle hands moving over his burning back, while the voice above him continued urgently, yet softly,
"Hush, Hogan, hush. You're going to be all right. Don't fret. Just listen to my voice. Breathe in – out. In – out. In – out. Come on, Robert, you'll make it!"
Klink continued to instruct the younger man to breathe with him in unison. It seemed to last forever, in truth it wasn't more than a minute in which Hogan's lungs forced out the water while trying to catch some oxygen, and Klink did his best to help him. Then, at last, the gurgling and spitting stopped, while the gasps and pants increased. Hogan began to tremble like a leaf in the wind, while his wheezing turned into heart-wrenching sobs…
Not hesitating a moment, Klink stripped out of his coat and wrapped it around the colonel, before he turned him gently around. For a moment he met the utterly confused, yet desperate, fearful and pleading look of the one eye that was still visible and Klink felt his heart going out to the man he loved, before he gathered him into his arms – trying to give him some comfort. Cradling Hogan like a little boy in his left arm (ignoring the pain as some of his stitches were torn) he cupped the blood-smeared and wet head in his right hand and pulled the colonel's face into the crook of his neck; alarmed at how cold Hogan was. He knew that the younger man was about to go into shock and warmth was the most important thing now.
"Sh-sh, Robert, I've got you," he whispered; holding the other man close to him to offer him some of his own body-heat – just like Hogan had done with him two nights prior. He didn't care that his own uniform jacket and shirt were soaked through or that his two wounds had begun stinging madly. There was nothing else important in the moment but Robert, who was sprawled over his lap and into his arms. "Don't fear, it's over now. I have you. Calm down, Hogan, calm down. No one will hurt you again." He wanted to cuddle, to kiss the most important person in his life, but he knew that he couldn't. Not without signing both their death-sentences.
"Stay where you are – everyone, or I'll shoot him first! Don't think I'll miss on such short distance!"
Schultz' furious voice woke Klink's attention and, alerted, he looked up; ready to draw his pistol and fight everyone who would dare come near him and Hogan. But there was no need for any defense. The Sergeant of the Guards had his rifle pointed at Hochstetter, who had sat up and obviously had gripped for his pistol but didn't dare do anything more because of the weapon that was aimed at him. Schultz stood almost between his Kommandant, the American and the major like a tower of strength, and Klink didn't doubt that the large Bavarian would indeed pull the trigger if it came to the worst. As kind-hearted and soft-spirited as Schultz was, he also could develop real wrath at certain circumstances – especially when his protective instincts got the better of him. And the latter had just happened now.
Half aside stood Schmidt; his face betrayed the disgust he felt. His right hand rested on the handle of his own pistole while he alternatively fixed the two guards and Hochstetter with his gaze.
The major still rubbed his hurting jaw; stunned that Klink not only had wits enough to attack him, but also had proved a physical strength he had never thought the Oberst possessed. With narrowed eyes he stared at Klink who held Hogan in a protective half-embrace while obviously comforting him. Hochstetter had felt how the colonel's struggles died away together with his life – and then…
"I knew it," he growled; eyes bright with hate. "I knew that you and Hogan are in cahoots with each other, Klink! You'll be shot for this betrayal."
Klink's gaze wandered slowly towards him – and Hochstetter tensed in surprise as he saw the fierce burning in the other man's eyes.
"You'll pay for this," Klink whispered harshly; tightening his grip around Hogan gently as he felt the younger man's trembling worsening. "You'll pay for what you did to him. Hogan may be a prisoner of war, but he is a thousand times a better man than you will ever be! What you did was uncalled for. A brutal crime beyond any imagination – something bare of any humanity."
"We can't afford to show humanity," the major snapped.
"'We'?" Klink echoed with a sneer.
"The Third Reich, the Führer, our…"
"A country – a leader – without humanity is hell's precipice! Men like you have changed our Fatherland into this dark mess that costs thousands of lives day by day! To torture and try to kill a man has become nothing to you. But not in this special case, right? What you did to Hogan has nothing to do with our land or the regime – or with your mere surmises concerning him – but only and purely with your personal desire for revenge!" the Oberst shouted.
Klink took a deep breath as he heard a muffled sound from the shaking bundle in his arms and lowered his head until his lips were beside Hogan's ear. "Sh-sh, Robert, it's okay. It's only me. Don't fret, you're safe now."
"Hogan is an Underground-agent – a man who has killed dozens of our soldiers. And you defend him and call him a good man? You're a traitor, Klink, but I knew this for a long time now," Hochstetter snarled and began to rise, but the rifle that was shoved almost beneath his chin, made him stop. "Sergeant Schultz, lower your weapon – now!" he ordered sharply.
"No!" Schultz snapped back. He was shocked about Hogan's condition, and his deep-rooted protective instincts were fully awake. "Due all respect towards your rank, Herr Major, but you've done enough. I will not allow you to harm Colonel Hogan even more – or Oberst Klink."
"I'll send you to court-martial – or directly to the firing squad!" Hochstetter shouted furiously.
"Only General Burkhalter can do this," the sergeant answered strongly. "And I doubt that he will take such a step, after all I am only protecting my superior officer against someone who has obviously turned insane and is therefore dangerous."
The same moment voices became louder from outside the room and steps drew nearer hectically.
"Out of my way! How dare you try to stop me!"
Klink looked towards the door; relief and satisfaction washed over him. He knew this voice well enough.
A moment later, General Burkhalter appeared in the doorway; his driver on his heels. The general stopped dead in his tracks – taking in the scene in front of him. Hochstetter crouched on the floor and his jaw was beginning to sport a red bruise. Schultz – Schultz! – stood in front of him and kept him in check with a rifle, a Leutnant and two guards of the SS didn't seem to know what to do, while Klink knelt on the ground and gathered someone close to him who was wrapped into a Luftwaffe-coat.
"What is going on here?" he demanded, while entering the room.
"General Burkhalter, your timing couldn't be better," Klink greeted him; face and voice hard.
"Klink, I thought you were in hospital," Burkhalter frowned.
"I'm needed here," the Oberst answered brusquely.
Their eyes met, and the general lifted both brows as he saw the rage flashing in the Kommandant's glance. There was no trace of the foolish uncertainty the Oberst displayed most of the times his superior was around. Just right now he seemed to be made of steel. Burkhalter frowned. He couldn't remember that he had ever seen the gauche man like this.
His gaze found the basin – he knew what it was used for – then his gaze followed the wet track that led to the man Klink shielded in his arms, saw the dark hair of the person whose face was pressed into the crook of Klink's neck and…
Assuming the worst, Burkhalter quickly walked towards the Oberst. "Don't tell me…," he began while lowering himself ponderously on one knee and reaching out to the collar of the heavy coat that covered the man. Pulling the material away carefully, he gasped as he saw his thoughts confirmed.
Shocked, he took in the bruised face he saw only a part of, and the blood that partly soaked the wet, sandy uniform shirt. He heard the hollow breaths, felt the colonel's trembling and as he awkwardly brushed two fingers against the American's exposed neck that was also bruised, he became aware of the other man's cold skin. What could be seen of Robert Hogan was enough to show him what the man had been through within the last day, and something close to sympathy woke in him. This and hot anger, because one thing was also very clear: Someone had attempted to drown the colonel only minutes ago – against his orders not to pester the adversarial officer more than had already been done. And Burkhalter knew exactly who this 'someone' was!
"Hogan, can you hear me?" he asked quietly, but the only reaction he received was that the colonel shivered even more. Covering the American carefully with the cloak again, he met Klink's eyes, ready to demand some answers. But what he saw made him draw back an inch; thunderstruck.
Tensed like a bow ready to let an arrow fly, pale, with fury on his face and fierce defiance in his eyes there seemed to be nothing left of the backbone-less man he had come to know over the last years. This here wasn't the vain, cowardly, babbling Stalag-Kommandant he always had regarded as a shame for the whole German officer-staff. It seemed as if something had taken years off the Oberst and had changed him into someone Burkhalter had never met before. This here was the man Klink had maybe been during the Great War. A man with strength, courage and determination.
And Albert Burkhalter realized that the 'Iron Eagle' had arisen anew – taking flight like a phoenix from the ashes WW II had almost burnt him to…
His gaze found Klink's right hand and he saw the bruised knuckles. He knew now who had socked Hochstetter, and for the first time ever, Burkhalter felt respect towards the lower-ranking officer. As it seemed, Klink had outgrown himself a lot – not only two days ago, but also a few minutes ago. He gave the Oberst one short nod. It was a promise – a promise to do what had to be done and ask questions later.
Rising with a wheeze – God, he really should lose some weight! – he turned around. "Sergeant Schultz, lower your weapon. I don't think Major Hochstetter will be foolish enough to get himself into even deeper trouble than he already is."
"Jawohl, Herr General," Schultz nodded and stepped back; making room for his highest ranking superior.
Finally, Hochstetter was able to rise and, throwing an evil glare at Schultz, he straightened his uniform and frame. "General Burkhalter, I…"
"Shut up!" Burkhalter snapped. He took a deep breath before he snarled, "Have you gone completely mad? Hogan is a prisoner of the Luftwaffe and if you have some accusations against him, you first have to contact me before you make any steps – and especially before you brutalize someone like this!"
"Herr General, I…"
"I don't know which part of the order Sergeant Diekmann delivered in my name was mistakable, but I really thought the command 'stop any interrogation of Colonel Hogan until I'm in Hammelburg' didn't need any detailed explanations! And to my knowledge this order finally reached you a quarter hour ago – but this man was just waterboarded almost to death only two or three minutes ago. What defense do you have for this kind of insubordination before I take you into custody?" The last two sentences were shouted, while the general's face flushed in sheer irritation.
Hochstetter moistened his lips, before he replied, "I have gained so much proof of Hogan being an active Underground-agent that every lawyer in the world would find him guilty." He placed his left hand on the belt in his typical gesture, while pointing at Hogan with his right hand that shook in wrath. "He is responsible for dozens of sabotages within the area. The destruction of a whole bombers-squadron, the destruction of plants in the area which were important for the war, the sabotages of railways so that any ordnances and needed supplies for our men at the fronts were cut off. The explosions of three bridges which served us for the same need – everything was planned and mostly done by this man!"
"Proof?" Burkhalter demanded. "Besides your general assumptions you have had for two years now because you can't stand him?"
"It begins with the fact that Hogan can leave and return to the camp whenever he wants."
"Bullshit!" Klink hissed; cupping Hogan's head with his right hand in an unconscious gesture of further protection. "No-one escapes Stalag 13 – except when my men are not in charge of the camp, just like now!"
"They are fooling you, Klink!" Hochstetter yelled. "Hogan and his men are acting up with you. You are only too blind to see it – or you're conspiring with them."
"Major Hochstetter," Burkhalter warned. "Oberst Klink may have a leading style that confuses even me from time to time, but you just accused a loyal German officer of being a traitor. I strongly advise you to have some proof for it – or for your statement that a POW is an active spy and saboteur."
The Gestapo-officer gritted his teeth for a moment, before he growled, "Hogan has been seen by at least two witnesses during criminal deeds outside of Stalag 13 – the last time only a few days ago in Hammelburg!"
Burkhalter pursed his lips and turned slowly around towards Klink and Hogan – the latter didn't react at all. The general assumed that the American was going into shock and knew that the colonel had to be taken care of as soon as possible. Yet the accusation…
"Hogan was in Hammelburg? When?" Klink asked; pulling Robert even closer to him by pure instinct. He would not allow Hochstetter's crazy ideas to become a threat for Hogan again. He heard a small muffled sound escaping the younger man in his arms and needed every ounce of his self-control to ignore it. Every part of his being wanted to soothe and comfort Hogan, but he couldn't give into his urges – not in Burkhalter's, Hochstetter's and the others' presence.
Hochstetter was too much in rage to realize that he gave away his unwillingness to check the colonel's alibi, as he snapped, "Five days ago in the late evening, he was seen taking documents from another man who is a known Underground-member and then vanished into a southern direction where Stalag 13 is located. A citizen saw him clearly," the major said triumphantly. "Well, Klink, what do you say now?"
"We are speaking of last Monday, right?" Klink wanted to clarify.
"Yes," Hochstetter nodded. Then he saw the Oberst's face flushing in fury and he realized his mistake. But it was too late.
"You cocky, royal stupid fool," Klink whispered, then wrath overwhelmed him. "You rotten bastard!" he shouted. "Hogan and I played chess last Monday the whole evening 'till late at night! I personally accompanied him to his barracks at two o'clock in the morning."
"Two o'clock in the morning?" Burkhalter asked, thunderstruck. Had Klink ever heard of something called a curfew within a POW-camp after eight o'clock in the evening? Yet he didn't say anything more, because the Oberst continued to rage,
"Whoever this man your 'witness' saw was, IT COULND'T HAVE BEEN HOGAN! A dozen of my guards can confirm that I accompanied him this late at night from my quarters to Barracks 2. And because of this 'witness's' false statement you tortured Hogan like a Spanish Inquisitor an assumed witch in the Middle Ages? You should rot in hell, you sick son of a bastard!"
"Have you confronted Colonel Hogan with your accusations in detail?" Burkhalter asked the major sternly; baffled about Klink's outburst. Sweet Lord, what was going on with the usual weakling?
"I told him bluntly what I found out and demanded an admission, but he denied any cooperation," Hochstetter replied arrogantly.
"Are you really trying to tell me that Hogan didn't even speak about the chess-matches with Klink, and rather let himself be tortured instead of presenting you with an alibi?" Burkhalter sneered; eyes small. Yes, to be out of barracks at this late time was against the rules, but certainly not worth enduring torture to keep it a secret.
"Colonel Hogan asked – pleaded – the major to speak with Oberst Klink about it a short time ago," Leutnant Schmidt cut in. "I heard it with my own ears."
"Shut up, Schmidt!" Hochstetter snapped. "You are not allowed…"
"Let the man speak!" Burkhalter ordered coldly, before he looked at the young man. "Please continue, Herr Leutnant."
"I received the last call of your assistant, Herr General, and went to the cellars to get Major Hochstetter. I came into the neighboring room of this one here the moment the major demanded from the colonel to tell him with whom he met in Hammelburg. I heard the colonel telling him, obviously for the uncounted time, that he had played chess with the Oberst the whole evening the incident took place and practically begged the major to contact the Oberst – but Major Hochstetter refused to do so." His gaze found the major, who was trembling with wrath by now. "The colonel also mentioned that he saved the major's life last year and whether this torment was the major's display of gratitude, but Major Hochstetter replied that personal feelings couldn't get in the way – but, as far as I'm able to comprehend the whole affair, it is utterly personal. At least the major let himself be ruled by his feelings of hatred during the whole 'questioning'."
Burkhalter watched him for a few seconds more, concluded that the young man spoke nothing else than the sheer truth – which needed a lot of bravery in the given situation – took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Hochstetter. "We two will have a serious talk in your office." He made a sharp gesture with his right hand as the Gestapo-officer opened his mouth to protest. "I don't want to hear anything else until then."
He turned around and looked down on the still heavily breathing and quivering figure in Klink's arms. He could only imagine what all had been done to Hogan, but it was enough to make him sick. In one regard Hochstetter had been right: If you know someone personally for a long time, this someone – even an enemy officer – became a person and from there it was only a little step to develop empathy.
"Klink, take Hogan back to the camp and make sure that he is attended to. I want a detailed report of his condition when I arrive."
"Yes," was all the Oberst said, before he turned towards his Sergeant of the Guards. "Schultz, help me get him to the car."
"With your permission, Herr General, I'll lend the sergeant a hand," Schmidt offered.
"This you do, young man," Burkhalter nodded. "And please continue to be available afterwards. I have a few further questions for you."
"Jawohl, Herr General." Schmidt saluted and then went to Klink. He bent down and carefully helped to raise Hogan to his feet. The colonel's legs gave out instantly, and Schmidt quickly caught him. The next moment Klink had risen, too, gently curled one of Hogan's arms around his neck and his own arm around the younger man's waist, while Schmidt did the same on the other side. A low moan escaped the American, before he coughed violently and breathed harshly and hollowly.
"Hogan, hold on," Klink said softly. "Just try to move your legs, we'll take you out of here."
They more carried the colonel than he was able to walk; his knees gave in again half the way up the staircase. Klink caught him again and gritted his teeth as he felt moisture running down his left calf as the stitches were torn because of the effort, but he controlled the pain. He could take care of himself later – Robert was in far more urgent need now. He heard Schultz following them and called over his shoulder,
"Schultz, hurry to the car, start the motor and switch on the heating system. Hogan is in shock and needs warmth more than anything else at the moment. And as soon as we're in the car head straight for the camp. I want to have Hogan there yesterday."
"I'm on my way," the large sergeant said. While he used the room to Klink's left side to overtake the three men, he offered Klink the lost cap, who simply took it and put it on Hogan's head to cover his wet hair from the icy air that would greet them the moment they left the building. Then Schultz ran towards the entrance with surprising speed given his oversized figure.
"Corporal Nolte?" Schmidt shouted as they reached the ground-level and a young SS-guard left an office just that moment. "Get a woolen blanket from one of the spare beds and bring it out to the Oberst Klink's staff-car. Hurry!"
"Jawohl, Herr Leutnant!" If the young man was baffled or not remained a secret, because he had his features completely under control while he raced down the hallway deeper into the building.
While another guard opened the entrance, Klink removed his scarf with one hand and wrapped it with Schmidt's help around Hogan's neck to offer him even more protection against the wintry weather. Behind Klink's car Burkhalter's car was parked but the Oberst didn't waste more than a short glance at it.
To take Hogan to the car over the icy ground was anything but easy, but Schmidt proved that he was a strong man and carried most of the colonel's weight. Carefully, they lowered the American on the backseat, while the corporal appeared with the demanded blanket.
"As far as I could see he has some broken ribs on the left side," Schmidt told Klink, who pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded wordlessly. He hoped that he hadn't caused Hogan further problems while pressing the water out of his lungs. Broken ribs presented their own dangers – like puncturing the lungs.
With the corporal's help they steered Hogan on the middle part of the backseats, before Klink slipped into the car, too – taking care that he was seated on the colonel's right side to avoid coming in contact with the younger man's broken ribs. Schmidt spread the blanket out over the two men – having realized by now that the Oberst sported at least a nasty cold and was in need of warmth just like the American officer.
As he was about to pull out of the car he had bent into, Klink put a hand on his arm and looked up at him. Seeing that the SS-corporal headed back to the building and was out of earshot, he said quietly,
"Thank you, Leutnant Schmidt. I didn't think that there were still some honorable men left within the SS."
"I belonged to the Abwehr – but you know what happened to the unit last year," Schmidt answered quietly.
Klink nodded slowly. The Leutnant's statement told him a lot. "Yet it was very brave what you did – and human. If you ever need any help, let me know."
"Thank you, Herr Oberst."
Schmidt closed the door and stepped back. He watched as the staff-car left the parking space and steered out into the street, where it sped up. 'God luck, Colonel Hogan,' he thought, then he turned around and was about to head back to the entrance, as he saw a movement at the edge of the next cross-road. He saw a man with a surprisingly tiny shape, who had wrapped his arms around himself and stared with big eyes at the leaving staff-car. Then he became aware of the Leutnant, greeted with a short nod, and continued his way by crossing the street – heading towards the opposite direction.
Shrugging his shoulders – obviously a first worker on his way to one of the two remaining factories in town – Schmidt returned to the headquarters; hoping that the Luftwaffe-general would take the mad major with him.
*** HH ***
Louis LeBeau wasn't a very patient man. He knew this, and he knew that it was a weakness. Additionally he possessed a lot of temper – a combination that had often brought him trouble. But within the last quarter hour he thought he would lose his mind. How long could it take until Klink had gotten Hogan out? How much time did this German fool need until he would show up again – with Hogan, of course?
Stamping on the spot to keep himself warm, LeBeau waited and waited – but no gray staff-car came along the street.
Finally, sick with worry that everything had gone wrong, he began to walk down the street Klink's car had taken, arrived at a crossroads and looked to his right. He knew the Gestapo-Headquarters and was relieved to see the building only fifty meters away. But not only the HQ, but also two cars and three persons, which went to one of the vehicles. Better to say – two persons walked and a third one was more or less carried between them. The man was wrapped in a Luftwaffe-coat and wore a Luftwaffe-officer's cap, but LeBeau couldn't be fooled. He knew it was Hogan. Beside him was Klink – supporting him, while a SS-officer helped to get the colonel in the car.
The little Frenchman gulped as he realized that Hogan was unable to move on his own but had to be placed on the car's backseat. Another SS-man came and brought a blanket. The massive shape of Schultz vanished behind the wheel and half a minute later the staff-car drove away with a speed that was almost dangerous given the street's condition. LeBeau thought it would turn around to pick him up like it was agreed, but it turned at the next corner in the opposite direction – clearly heading back to Stalag 13.
"And what about me?" LeBeau groused quietly. Then he saw that the SS-officer had become aware of him. Well, the curfew was certainly finished, yet Louis didn't want to take any risk. Crossing his arms in front of him and giving the German a polite greeting, he began to walk down the street like he had a purpose, but wasn't in a hurry. As he reached the next corner he carefully peeked back over his shoulder. The SS-officer was nowhere to be seen and the street was empty.
Sighing, he grimaced. "Superb. Now I can walk back to the camp," he grumbled, then he almost kicked himself. He only had to face a longer walk but Hogan had been through hell. He hadn't seen much of his superior officer and friend, but that he had to be supported and had been unable to use his own legs spoke volumes. LeBeau didn't dare think closer of what had been done to the colonel, and fury woke in him – a rage that gave him strength.
With determined steps he began to walk down the street. He knew a shorter way out of town before he would tramp down the road to Stalag 13. And he didn't care who would see him on his way.
TBC…
So, Hogan has been finally rescued, but he's going to face a long, hard way of healing. Of course his friends and Klink are there for him – and especially 'Willie' is determined to nurse him back to health – but given Hogan's physical and mental condition the suffering isn't over. Yet I can already promise you several sweet scenes.
And there is still the danger of everything Hochstetter learned until now or has concluded. And he will try everything to convince Burkhalter that he has been right about Papa Bear the whole time.
This and a first sweet scene will be in the next chapter that comes at the weekend.
I hope that Hogan's rescue was to your liking, and that your hopes and wishes were fulfilled. Like I already informed in the plot-description, Klink would overgrow himself for Hogan and I imagined how the gauche Kommandant becomes the 'Iron Eagle' again – someone who finally gets his backbone back and makes a kind of rebirth like a phoenix who does for once what is right – and will continue to do so.
I also loved to write the moment Hochstetter finally is punched and pushed to the place where he belongs. It also was fun to write about Burkhalter's shock as he realized that 'Coward Klink' has become 'Warrior Klink'. Well, never underestimate a man who is pushed too far and has to protect those he loves…
I'm always curious what you think of the chapters, but this one is game-changing for the rest of the story (and the war), and I really would love to know how you liked it.
Have a nice rest of the week,
Love
Yours Starflight
