Hi, my dear readers!

Thank you so much for the feedback I got. Like so often I'm very happy that you like this story so much.

Like I already mentioned in the epilogue of the last chapter, this new one will be one of emotions, a little bit fun and some clear-outs. I hope, you're going to like it.

Have fun,

Love

Yours Starflight

Chapter 16 – To clear anything out

"So, did I get this right? You, LeBeau, simply walked through the main-gate while the SS-rat took Fräulein Hilda home on my motorcycle, went to Hammelburg, had to hide there because of the curfew, then searched for the hospital, found me, alerted me, waited for Schultz and me to pick you up again, and after we didn't within a few minutes you went near the Gestapo-Headquarters, saw Schultz and me steering Hogan in my car, and, after we didn't stop, you began to wander the way back to Stalag 13, only to be picked-up by General Burkhalter."

Klink, with freshly-done stitches, clad in casual pants, a shirt, socks, slippers and wearing his thick red house-coat, sat on one of the armchairs and watched LeBeau with hawk-eyes – glassy, reddened hawk-eyes! In front of the table stood Corporal Langenscheidt, while Kinchloe, Carter and Newkirk leant against the wall beside the door to the sleeping-chamber, where Wilson watched over Hogan who slipped into and out of sleep.

"Oui, Colonel, exactly like this," LeBeau nodded. "But I didn't 'walk' out of the camp, but slipped out of it, using the shadows and that the SS-bosches were distracted by the pompous behavior of their superior – making a big show of driving the motorcycle and having the mademoiselle with him." He smiled mischievously.

He had regained consciousness shortly after Burkhalter left and had to endure the merciless taunting of his friends while Klink was being treated in the bathroom by Wilson. Yet none of the Heroes dared to ask LeBeau what had happened that led him coming back in Burkhalter's car and Klink obviously being the one who had rescued Hogan from Hochstetter. They would question him later when they were back in their barracks.

As the Oberst returned, he had ordered Langenscheidt to join them and had questioned Louis first – and, like so often, he could barely believe what he heard. That a POW could sneak out of camp by using the main-gate was… crazy. Yes, Klink was proud of his guards, but he also knew that the SS-members were usually better schooled than the best of the Luftwaffe-guards. So to imagine that LeBeau had slipped away right under their noses was almost impossible.

He surveyed the Frenchman and recognized for the first time that he wore strange clothes, yet the garments looked familiar. "From whom did you borrow those clothes, LeBeau?" he asked firmly.

Louis bit his lips and prevented himself from looking at Kinchloe. "From another prisoner," was all he said.

Klink pursed his lips and nodded. "Of course. Name!"

LeBeau gulped and shook his head.

The Oberst sighed. "I can order a roll call just right now and check who wears your clothes. This would mean a few days in the cooler – otherwise…"

"Otherwise LeBeau and the man in question remain unpunished," Kinch suggested.

"I bargain with Hogan enough, Sergeant Kinchloe. I don't need another POW who thinks he can strike deals with me," the Kommandant snapped.

"I'm the colonel's substitute at the moment, sir, and therefore it's up to me to negotiate with you."

Klink glanced sharply up at him. "Negotiate? This isn't a market place but a prison camp, Sergeant, and I'm its Kommandant and not a merchant."

Kinch sighed. It always looked so easy when Hogan was making deals with Klink, but maybe that was because both men knew each other so well by now. "Sir, the camp was without power, was taken over by the SS who harassed us, Colonel Hogan was about to face death and you didn't know about it all because you were in hospital. We had to inform you, but how could we, without power to use a phone?"

"So, POWs are using a phone. Do we have official call-boxes in the camp now?" Klink asked wryly.

"No sir, but Sergeant Kinchloe speaks of my idea to call you in secret from your own phone here in your quarters," Langenscheidt cut in; jumping in for Kinch. He and Hogan's men were on the same boat now – and he was in even more trouble than them. He knew that he needed Kinch's help to get off this all cheaply. "But before I was able to do so, the power was cut off as the emergency generator broke down again and the main power failed."

"So, you thought it a good idea to send LeBeau to me," Klink asked disbelieving.

"This was my idea, sir," Kinchloe said. "I came up with the plan. Louis and the other POW switched clothes and like this LeBeau's absence wasn't recognized during roll call."

"Still, one POW wasn't there when Corporal Langenscheidt counted them," the Oberst said angrily and pointed an accusing finger at Karl.

"Leutnant von Neuhaus returned during the counting, and like before he made a big fuss of everything he is involved in. Langenscheidt had no chance to make a proper counting," Kinch more or less lied. He wanted to keep the corporal out of serious trouble, after all Langenscheidt had covered for them, which led to Hogan's rescue in the end.

Both men exchanged a short glance. They both needed each other in the moment to get away from everything with the famous 'stink eye'.

"Regard it from another side, sir," Newkirk raised to speak. "If not one of us would have alerted you, your camp would still be in the clutches of the Gestapo and the SS, and Colonel Hogan would certainly be dead now. And we all know that you and he have become sort of friends and that you value his opinions. So we did you a favor."

"And nothing bad happened," Louis added. "I've returned like promised, we are all still here, your record of no escapes is still flawless and even Général Burkhalter hasn't any reason to grouse this time, after all my trip to Hammelburg happened while this nasty von Neuhaus was in charge, and not you." He smiled winningly at Klink.

The Oberst made a face and gave them a mocking nod. "So everything is fine, you say."

"Of course," Carter piped up. "As long as you are in charge, we've no chance at all to leave the camp, but – boy – these SS-guys really don't uphold their reputation. Your men are far more efficient."

"This I could clearly see one year ago, as three of you played servicemen in the Hofbräu and Hogan ran around in a German uniform, pretending to be one of my officers," Klink snapped. Feeling his headache increase, he lent back on the sofa, massaged his temples and closed his eyes shortly. What to do. Usually LeBeau should be put into the cooler for at least 30 days, Kinchloe and the other POW he still didn't know the identity of should join the Frenchman for 20 days, and Langenscheidt had to get a serious rebuke in his personal chart at least. Yet those overgrown boys were right: They did him a favor by alerting him – a favor they didn't know the half of. And it also touched him that they trusted him enough to lay their beloved colonel's life in his hands.

Opening his eyes he looked at expectant faces, grimaced and groaned, "Corporal Langenscheidt, I urgently advise you to check the identity of the POWs you're counting at those roll calls which are done by you. Switching clothes is an old trick you should have expected, but given the whole stressful situation the camp was in within the last two days, I'll… oversee your mistake for once."

Langenscheidt stood promptly to attention. "Yes, Herr Kommandant – and thank you."

The Oberst waved one hand before he saluted properly. "Diiiiiiismissed!"

"Yes, sir!" Karl returned the salute happily and quickly left the building; relieved that he hadn't gotten into trouble – thanks to Kinchloe and the other men of Hogan's gang.

Klink looked at LeBeau after Langenscheidt had vanished. "Usually you would have many days for yourself in a single room downstairs, if you get what I mean, but seeing that you did not use the chances to escape permanently from here and stood true to your duty as a soldier and to the promise you gave me, I'll let the whole matter go this time. By the way, your cooking abilities are needed by Hogan. Wilson said that good food is another key to his healing, and knowing that Hogan is your friend you'll certainly have no objections preparing meals for him. And I wouldn't rebuke you if I could get a part of those meals, too."

For once LeBeau wasn't angry to have to cook for a 'Kraut'. Klink had proven to be an odd kind of ally – at least to a certain degree – and he just had showed a big fairness. And he had saved Hogan. No, Louis had no problems making meals for the two highest ranking officers within those wires, one of whom he didn't like only two days ago, but who had risen in his esteem now.

"Non problem, Colonel. I'll make you and Hogan lunches and dinners you will yearn for even years later."

"Maybe – if I survive you all and this damn war," Klink grumbled. He had to sneeze violently.

"Gesundheit, (German equivalent to 'God bless you')" it echoed in German from all four POWs, and Klink glared at them. Of course he remembered how Hogan and his 'gang' irritated him during the incident with the avalanche several days ago, as first Schultz sneezed and Hogan wished him well like this, and then, as Klink sneezed, all remained silent. It had been a kind of teasing afterwards – especially as Klink's noisy demonstration of having a cold allegedly elicited the avalanche and the whole gang called 'Gesundheit' in union. General Strommberger had almost gotten a raging fit. And later, back in the camp, snow came down from the roof after Klink sneezed anew, and promptly Hogan had called 'Gesundheit' again. Looking back it had been humorous, yet the Oberst couldn't admit this officially.

"All right," he began, before he coughed. Gasping for breath he added finally, "I hope I survive this damn bronchitis." He rose. "All right, Gentlemen, General Burkhalter will be here in a few minutes and for once I have to attend to business. And you certainly have your own duties to do. Dismissed. I shall keep you updated concerning Colonel Hogan's condition, and if you want to visit him, I have no objections, but please give him and me a few days of rest before my quarters turn into a place like a dovecot."

"A… dovecot, sir?" Newkirk asked baffled. "What do you mean?"

Klink waved both hands. "That people are coming and going like doves in a cot, of course."

Peter chuckled for a moment. "You mean, 'it's like Piccadilly Circus here'."

"Or 'like Grand Central Station'," Cater helpfully added.

The Oberst, realizing that another German idiom differed a lot from its English equivalent, simply shrugged. "Whatever."

Kinchloe couldn't help himself: He grinned at the German officer. "Otherwise your English is very good." He nodded at his comrades. "Come on, fellas, let us leave the two colonels to their healing." He glanced back at Klink. "And thank you for your compliance."

Klink made a face and gave them all one dark glance, before he glanced aside and murmured, "I'm far too soft."

"Oh no, sir, don't worry. We all know that you command the camp with an iron fist, but you are also very fair. Just like now," Carter told him eagerly.

"Andrew – shut up!" Newkirk groaned.

"Why? It's true, isn't it?" the youngest Hero defended himself.

"You can continue your discussion wherever you want, but please outside," Klink cut in. "Dismissed – all of you." He watched the four POWs leaving reluctantly; throwing last gazes over their shoulders towards the door of the sleeping chamber, but at least they obeyed.

Finally almost alone, Klink went to the bedroom and stopped at the threshold. Hogan seemed to be asleep, but after a few seconds – as if his brain needed some time to react to noises – he turned his head and looked at him with one eye. Wilson sat on the bed-edge and surveyed him carefully.

"How is he?" Klink asked quietly.

"He is calmer now and I think the sedatives will kick in when his adrenalin finally comes down," Wilson answered quietly.

"Good, good," the Oberst nodded. "Do you need to watch over him further?"

The sergeant shook his head. "No, sir, I only thought that it would be better for him if he isn't alone."

Klink glanced once again at Hogan and caught the American's tired gaze. "He won't be alone, Sergeant. I'll keep an eye on him. But just for now I have business with General Burkhalter in a few minutes. Please leave. You can check on Hogan later again – or, if something happens, I will call for you."

Wilson sighed and rose. "Aye, sir," he said, before he bent over Hogan and placed a hand on the colonel's left arm. "Get better, sir. I'll look after you in an hour when the IV-bag is empty." He directed his attention to Klink. "Please make certain that he drinks a lot. He's still dehydrated. I am going to tell LeBeau to make very light meals for him, because his stomach will certainly have problems after the brutal hits on his abdomen."

"I'll give him plenty to drink," the German officer affirmed; recognizing that the medic had used the typical US-military reply when being given an order. That had never happened before. Sweet Lord, something had really changed between the POWs and him within the last two days. "Dismissed, Sergeant, and thank you for your help."

"You are welcome, sir," Wilson said. "May I give you some advice? When you're done with the general, go to bed. This bronchitis you have is no walk in the park, and bed warmth helps a lot." He nodded at him and left.

Klink watched him leave and pursed his lips. So, it was like this when comrades cared for each other. In earlier times, when he had been quite young, he had had friends among his squadron, but as the Great War neared its end, only a few had been left. And even fewer still lived since the madness had seized Europe. He had almost forgotten how it was when not the rank but the person was important. Wilson was the camp's medic – not of his own free will, as he was a prisoner, but he took this responsibility very seriously. Not only towards the other POWs, but also towards the guards and lower ranking German officers. And now he also cared about him – Wilhelm Klink; the man they all regarded as an enemy. At least most of them. Hogan's men had come to tolerate him, but this kind of real respect was utterly new. And somehow it warmed him – to be accepted a little bit into this special circle.

Sweet Lord, how desperate could a man get if he welcomed the first hue of comradeship from imprisoned enemies?

Only – Hogan and his men weren't his enemies. Robert had never been one, and his fellows… Well, Klink couldn't deny that he admired their loyalty and their casual way of handling everything. What a difference to the stiff Wehrmacht

"Kli'k?"

The croak behind him made him turn around and, glancing softly down on the injured man, the Oberst murmured, "Yes, it's me."

Lowering himself on the spot Wilson had left unoccupied, Klink surveyed the colonel with unmasked concern but also barely hidden tenderness. For a long moment there was nothing else to hear than the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room and the crackling of the fire in the furnace.

Placing a hand on the American's arm, Klink said quietly, "You had me scared here, Hogan. When I learned that you had been in Hochstetter's clutches for almost a day, I…" He shook his head; trying to forget the dread that had gripped him only two or three hours ago. "I was afraid that I would come too late." His glance wandered over the bruised face that was barely recognizable at the moment. "I came too late to spare you all the torment you went through, but at least I could get you out alive." He took a deep breath, carefully as to not trigger another coughing fit. "The next time I order you to flee, you just do it, okay? This all wouldn't have happened if you would have obeyed me the day before yesterday."

"Co'dn't," came the hoarse reply. Hogan's mind was still numb and his whole body seemed to belong to another person, yet his brain had started to work again. Everything was still foggy and where the cold darkness had gripped for him there seemed to be emptiness now, but his senses regained some abilities. He knew that he was in Stalag 13 again – home, as odd as it may sound. He had been attended to, his men – his friends – had been here, and now Klink sat at his bed. He even understood what the older man said, but he still had problems grasping reality.

The latter was not only because of the shock his brain still suffered from, but also because of the sedatives Wilson gave him. The pain-killers and the penicillin had their own soothing effects and increased his exhaustion. It was no miracle that he was in a condition similar to half-sleep.

Klink groaned as he heard the answer. "I know. You always put others above yourself. Your men – even me." He bent down a little bit. "But this time your selflessness almost cost you your life. You would be dead now if LeBeau hadn't come to the hospital to get me, and…"

"L'B'u?" Hogan needed all his strength to lift his head. "How's'he?"

For a few seconds Klink could only look at him with fond exasperation; not realizing the warmth that shone in his eyes. "For once, stop worrying for the others, Robert. It's you we're worried about." Gently he pushed Hogan back into the cushions. "LeBeau is well and I didn't put him in the cooler for leaving the camp. Neither him, nor the others who had a part in the little complot to fool the Gestapo and SS and get me for help."

Hogan moistened his lips and winced at the stinging pain the gesture elicited. "The G'st'po?" The word alone woke unusual fear in him.

Giving into his instincts again, Klink softly stroked an unruly lock out of Hogan's forehead; touching the bandage. The gentle gesture seemed to calm the colonel, because the tension left him.

"I kicked the black rats and Leutnant von Neuhaus out of Stalag 13, and General Burkhalter is making certain at the moment that they are really leaving. All your men and you are safe again." He squeezed softly Hogan's hand. "I'm sorry that you had to endure this at all. If I would have known of what happened earlier, I would have come instantly, but… LeBeau reached me only early this morning and I came as quickly as I could."

The one brown eye looked up at him with an expression Klink had never seen before: Gratefulness, wonder… Even something close to affection.

"Tha'ks," Hogan whispered. "Tha'ks f'r gettin' m' out."

Klink smiled. "You're welcome, Hogan." Then another thought struck him. "Are you hungry? Do you want to have a light breakfast?"

Very slowly the colonel shook his head. "No, th'k-yo'."

"Okay." The Kommandant rose. "Try to sleep a little bit. I'll look after you when I'm done talking with Burkhalter. I think I've somewhere a little table-bell. I will bring it to you so that you can use it if you need something. It will certainly take a few days until your voice is strong enough again to call."

Squeezing Hogan's fingers a last time, he left – tired beyond belief, but still too agitated to even recognize it.

*** HH ***

"So, what the hell happened?" Newkirk asked while pouring LeBeau a cup of coffee. Baker and Kinch sat beside him at the table. "How come you arrived with Burkhalter here and that it's obviously been Klink who got the gov'nor out?"

"And what took you so long?" Kinch added questions.

"Maybe you should try to sneak through a town that is full of SS-men while a curfew is set," Louis bitched; offended. "First I got every bone shoved at another place inside my body while hiding in this impossible side-car – and I swear, this damn Kraut hit every pothole in the street…"

"The streets are covered with snow, and therefore have no potholes," Peter cut in.

"Have you bruises everywhere, or I?" Louis snapped.

"Colonel Hogan has bruises everywhere – and more," Kinchloe threw in, while he sat down in front of LeBeau. "Louis, don't get us wrong here, but we were worried half out of our minds. So, what happened?"

The little Frenchman sighed and in the following minutes told his friends everything that had gone on since he sneaked out of Stalag 13.

"The Underground… did nothing?" Newkirk gasped.

"You heard LeBeau. Hans Wagner is with his leading men and women near Mannheim to speak with the Allies which are somewhere in Belgium and North-France. That's why he and the others couldn't do anything for the colonel," Kinch tried to calm the Englishman, before he mused, "Hm, our people seem to be as good as liberated from those damn bosches."

"And so you simply ran to the hospital and tore Klink out of bed?" Carter asked LeBeau. "Boy, you really have nerves."

"I didn't tear him out of bed, he came as I quarreled with this hag of a night nurse – and then Schultzie made noises enough to drown out a whole herd of elephants. Klink came, I told him what happened and then he went all…" Louis raised both hands, widened his eyes and made panicking sounds, while looking around furiously.

The others began to snicker, then Newkirk turned serious again. "So, Klink didn't hesitate to come to the gov'nor's rescue?"

The little Frenchman snorted. "You should have seen him. He got all commanding, snapping at the nurse to help him get dressed and threatening to take care that she would be fired if she tried to stop him. Then Dr. Birkhorn appeared, I told him what happened, he hurried away to get medicine for Hogan and Klink, and then our balding eagle was already on his way. A street away from the Gestapo-Headquarters he made me leave the car and stay behind so that I didn't get caught by one of the black rats should one of them recognize me…"

"This was unusually thoughtful of him," Newkirk murmured.

LeBeau nodded shortly. "Oui, I think he really cares a little bit for us – but especially for the colonel. The moment I left the car he already gave Schultzie the order to speed up the car. I swear, I never saw him like this before."

"I know what you mean, LeBeau, and I can only agree. I never saw the Kommandant acting like he did this morning," a voice with a Bavarian accent rose to speak, and the others turned around, startled. None of them had heard Schultz coming in. He leant his rifle against the next stock-bed and set down his helm; not caring that he broke a dozen rules like this or gave the POWs a change to get hold of a weapon. He had no worry that they would attack him. "The SS and von Neuhaus are gone," he updated them, before he simply pulled one of the chairs to the table and sat down between them – like he had done so often within the last years. Not for the first time Hogan's men thought the large man belonged more to them than to the German guards.

"At least one good message," Newkirk grumbled.

"Yes, I couldn't stand this von Neuhaus the moment I met him. I thought Klink would tear him apart as he stepped into the sleeping-chamber and recognized Hogan." He smiled proudly. "Mei, the Bavarian Lion couldn't have become fiercer than our Kommandant in this moment."

"Yeah, Klink was really impressive for once as he kicked him and the SS out of the camp," Kinchloe agreed. "I never thought he had it in him like this."

"You should have seen him back in Hammelburg," Hans said; gratefully accepting a cup of coffee LeBeau offered him. "Danke," he nodded, before he took a sip, placed the cup on the table and returned to his tale, "He stopped at nothing, really. He raced into the building, went to the cellars and while this nice Leutnant Schmidt began to argue with the guards, Klink stormed into the room were Colonel Hogan and Hochstetter were."

"Did he really sock Hochstetter?" Carter asked eagerly.

"That would explain the bruises at his right hand," Kinchloe nodded.

Schultz chuckled for a moment and nodded, "Yes, I saw it with my own two eyes. He dragged Hochstetter away from Hogan and then – zack!" He punched his right fist in the palm of his left hand. "Straight against the jaw. With all his strength. I never thought that Klink could throw a punch like this, but he did – two times, even."

Applause and whistles were to hear as the POWs began to cheer.

"Hochstetter tumbled to the ground like a marionette cut off its strings," Schultz had to raise his voice to be heard at all; grinning broadly now. "I think he was even knocked out for a few moments."

"Bravo," Kinch grinned. "I'll buy Klink an ale the next time we're in town."

Again everyone began to laugh, and Hans shook his head; smirking. "'Next time we're in town' – jolly jokers."

Then the Heroes and the other POWs in Barrack 2 turned serious again. "So, Klink knocked Hochstetter out and then he took Hogan and fled?" Carter wanted to know.

"If it would have been that easy, m'boy," Schultz sighed. "Hogan was barely moving anymore and Klink had to reanimate him."

"He had to reanimate him?" LeBeau repeated, alerted.

"He was partly wet as he arrived," Newkirk said quietly; his good mood was lessening again by the mere thought of what his friend had been through. "Waterboarding?"

Schultz made an affirming gesture; looking very unhappy now. "Yes – and it seems that Hochstetter was going to kill him this way." He slowly shook his head again. "No wonder Klink lost it." He took a deep breath. "Hochstetter came around while Klink was aiding Hogan, and gripped for his pistol, but he hadn't considered me." Seeing that he had everyone's attention now, he straightened his shape a little bit and said proudly, "Yes, I, Sergeant Hans Georg Schultz, kept Hochstetter in check with my rifle." He flicked a thumb backwards towards his weapon. "And believe me, I would have shot if he had moved more than a finger, while Klink helped Hogan get some air in his lungs." He grimaced. "Sacra (Bavarian for 'holy'), had the man breathed water. I think he spitted for a minute or so. Klink was beyond himself with worry and even wrapped the colonel in his coat before he pulled him on his lap to warm him."

"Klink… cuddled Hogan?" LeBeau asked thunderstruck.

"The colonel was going into shock and to keep somebody warm then is essentially important," Schultz told him. "Hochstetter was furious and accused Klink of treason, but – Heavens – did our Kommandant turn eerie in that moment. I think, if he would have had a hand free he would have killed Hochstetter. I never heard him hissing and snarling like this. And his eyes… they were almost bright with fire."

Newkirk and Kinch exchanged a glance. First Klink ran back into a rain of bullets to save Hogan, and now he even socked Hochstetter and defended Hogan like a lioness her cub? What was going on here, for God's sake? That wasn't normal anymore. Even if Klink regarded Hogan as a friend, that didn't explain this sudden change in the man. What had triggered this kind of explosive protectiveness?

"Then Burkhalter appeared and took over," Schultz continued. "Jesus Christ, I've seen the general angry before, but this time he really broke his own record. I don't know what made him more furious: Hochstetter disobeying his orders, Hogan almost being killed or that the Gestapo took over Stalag 13."

"Do you know of what Hochstetter accused the colonel in detail?" Kinch asked, and Schultz shrugged.

"The usual. Hogan being a spy and one of the leaders of the Underground, operating in secret here from the camp." He suddenly looked sharply at the five Heroes. "And we all know that this is downright nonsense, isn't it?"

"Of course."

"What an idea. We – members of the Underground."

"Silly."

Schultz grumbled something beneath his breath and made a face, before he told them further, "Hochstetter also said, Hogan had been seen last Monday late in the evening in Hammelburg – meeting someone who is a wanted member of the Underground. What a Schmarrn (Bavarian for 'nonsense'). Klink and Hogan played chess this evening – 'til two o'clock in the morning. The colonel couldn't have been this person, and as Burkhalter learned of it, he gave Hochstetter an earful like I have never heard before."

Newkirk had grown stiff as he heard about this accusation. It had been him who had been in Hammelburg and… Hochstetter had arrested the gov'nor because someone saw him, Newkirk, and had mistaken him for Hogan? He remembered the short mission in the little town. He had to wait for the contact-man longer than intended and the handover of the information had costed extra time, so that he had to hurry to return to the camp. Someone must have watched them, informed the Gestapo and, of course, Hochstetter instantly assumed Hogan to be the one who headed back into the direction of Stalag 13. That the major was possessed with the idea of Hogan being the leader of an espionage-ring was nothing new.

Closing his eyes he lowered his head. He should have been more careful. If he had watched his surroundings more cautiously, he would have maybe seen the person who betrayed them to Hochstetter and he could have stopped said man or woman before it came to the worst.

He gulped. That Hogan had been through this hell was partly his – Newkirk's – fault.

He heard how the others talked more with Schultz, but he blended it out. He could only think of his friend and superior officer, who had…

"But why didn't Hogan tell Hochstetter that he played chess with Klink that evening?" Baker asked baffled; tearing Peter out of his thoughts. "Okay, to be out of the barracks after curfew means a lot of trouble, but not enough to endure torture instead of telling the truth."

"As far as I learned, Hogan did tell Hochstetter, but this poison-gnome refused to ask Klink," Schultz explained. "Leutnant Schmidt, the nice young man who helped us get into the Gestapo-Headquarters and had even been on his way to get Klink, told Burkhalter that Hogan pleaded with Hochstetter to call Klink so that the Kommandant could affirm this alibi, but this bastard didn't do it. Burkhalter accused Hochstetter that he didn't want to know the real truth, but wanted to force Hogan to admit wrong statements. And as Hogan didn't give in, Hochstetter decided to kill him so that Hogan couldn't tell Burkhalter the truth after he arrived. If Klink wouldn't have come at the last moment, our troublemaker would be certainly dead now."

Shocked, the Heroes looked at each other. They had been a hair-width away from really losing Hogan today. After the colonel had barely escaped the ambush, now he had come very close to being killed again. They could only imagine what must have gone through Hogan's mind and soul during the moments he thought they would be his last.

Schultz took a sip from his coffee and sighed again. "The poor colonel. He wasn't even responsive as Klink held him. I thought, the Kommandant would strangle Hochstetter if given the chance. Even Burkhalter was perplexed."

"I know what you mean," Carter nodded. "He even refused to get his graze-wounds stitched again until the colonel was attended to, and gave me a little speech." The others looked at him, and he explained, "I told him that I was surprised by his reactions and he only asked 'Why do you think I was called the 'Iron Eagle?' Then he pointed at the Iron Cross and said that he hadn't gotten that for naught. And he also told me that a man needs a backbone to do what he has to do, but that he had forgotten about it for too long – and that this would stop now."

In awe Kinch, Baker and even Newkirk looked at each other, while LeBeau crossed his arms in front of his chest and mused, "That fits. I thought he would freak out as I told him that mon colonel had been arrested and in Hochstetter's clutches since yesterday. He went pale like a tablecloth and then he changed into someone who knows exactly what to do and how. There was no track of his usual uncertainty or silly eagerness he shows so often. His orders were plain and stern, and he even walked straight – not bowed like an old tree. It was as if he all of sudden was a completely different man."

"Yes, someone who has no problem even stripping off and helping another one get clean beneath the shower despite the heavy bronchitis he sports," Carter nodded. "If you ask me, Klink feared for our colonel so much because he really likes him a lot. He became all protective and didn't think of himself for a moment as he freed him and supported Wilson during Hogan's treatment. He put the colonel's welfare over his own two days ago, and he did it again today. Just imagine: Socking Hochstetter. I bet that no other man within Germany would have the guts to stand up against a Gestapo-officer like this."

"Usually it would mean court-martial," Schultz affirmed, "but in this case it's Hochstetter who will face a trial. General Burkhalter made certain of it and arrested him. I don't want to be in Hochstetter's skin at the moment. They maybe could overlook him torturing a POW – even if this is against the law – but disobeying the direct order of a general, giving instructions to tell the general's office that he wasn't present, abusing his position to get private revenge, refusing to check an alibi and trying to murder said POW to cover his deeds, all this is enough to put him in jail or a working camp for the next ten years."

"Your words in God's ears," Kinch sighed. "At least it would make up a little bit of what he did to Hogan."

Schultz looked around, saw the heartache apparent on the men's faces and tried to comfort them, "Heads up, boys, Colonel Hogan is a strong man. And he is well cared for. Klink will make certain that he gets everything he needs – including kind words and a shoulder to lean on. He'll cosset him, believe me."

"We do believe you, Schultz," Baker said. "And the image of Klink nursing Hogan back to health alone is confusing enough to give us sleepless nights."

Hans waved a hand, "Ah, Baker, don't be so over-dramatic. Our Kommandant and the colonel have become friends, that's all. Klink has come to appreciate Hogan and wants to keep him safe – just like he wants to protect us all, too. I know he usually keeps the ball low, but if circumstances demand it he can take matters in his own hands and overgrow himself."

"And how often has this happened?" Kinchloe asked.

Schultz shortly pursed his lips. "Well, there was… Hm, I think I remember the case as… No, that had been Burkhalter who saved the day. But there was…" He stopped again, before he capitulated, "Okay, I can't remember when he did something like this before."

"See," Kinch nodded.

"But I always knew he had it in him," Hans continued; raising one finger.

"Yes, I think everyone can be pushed to their limits and even cross that line. The only question is, why was it Hogan's life that changed our gauche Kommandant into a real 'Iron Eagle'?"

*** HH ***

While Schultz was with the POWs of Barracks 2 and was talking with them more than his position allowed, Burkhalter returned to Klink's quarters.

The talk didn't last long. Klink gave the general a full report of the last two days, including some details the older man hadn't known until now. In return the Oberst learned of all the arguments and accusations Hochstetter had made about Hogan, and having more background information than Burkhalter, Klink had to secretly admit that the major had some very good points. If summed all together it completely confirmed what he assumed and had figured out for himself for months, even two years now. Yet – like before – Klink didn't reveal what he had witnessed, heard and seen in the past; even changing a few little details of the different incidents in which Hogan had a part in. Especially concerning the incident with Major Pruhst and 'Schafstein' Klink twisted some facts to convince Burkhalter of Hochstetter's obsession and that the major obviously lost track of his own sane mind.

Fortunately, Hochstetter had been arrested now, and Klink was even more glad about it because of everything the major had found out. The Gestapo-officer had been too close to Hogan's track for Klink's liking, and he knew that it would have come to the worst if Hochstetter were able to continue his hunt.

The Oberst also learned of Leutnant Schmidt's promotion and that he was now in charge of the Gestapo-Headquarters in Hammelburg until further notice. Klink was pleased. He had feared that von Neuhaus would be put in command now, but as it seemed the young man from North-Germany had not only impressed him, but also Burkhalter.

And as the Kommandant heard how selflessly Schmidt had intervened in the 'questioning' as he became suspicious about 'the prisoner', Klink sent a silent prayer of thanks to all higher beings that the young man had been courageous enough to take matters in his own hands. Without Schmidt , Hogan would have been in an even worse condition than he already was.

Yet Burkhalter stayed silent about Hochstetter's intention to brand the colonel. He had seen how fiercely Klink had protected his American counterpart; standing up against the Gestapo like only a few people would dare. The general assumed that it had been Klink's fever and the medicaments which had been given to him at the hospital that made the Kommandant this reckless. Yes, the Oberst had suddenly gotten guts, which had taken Burkhalter by surprise, but he also knew how much this all had demanded from Klink. He knew his underling well enough to realize that the other man had reached his limits, and he didn't want to push him over the edge.

Besides, it hadn't slipped the staff-officer's attention how sick Klink really was. Therefore he cut the talk as short as possible, wished him well and left.

His own house was only a few kilometers away and, since he hadn't gotten any decent sleep last night, he planned on staying at home until tomorrow. Maybe, with a little bit of luck, the meeting would be over in Berlin then and he could remain in Hammelburg for a few days more. He wanted to make certain that everything ran smoothly – not only in Stalag 13, but also with young Schmidt. He didn't trust von Neuhaus – not one little bit. The man was like Hochstetter – enjoying his power far too much and obviously too hungry for climbing the career ladder. Burkhalter would watch him, because he didn't want a repeat of what happened within the last two days.

But for now he had other duties to attend to – and he was so damn tired. Climbing into his staff-car he signaled his driver, who had already been waiting for him, to leave the camp.

In the meantime Klink made certain that Hogan sipped at least one glass of water; gently steadying the younger man's head while he held the glass against the split lips. Only then did the Oberst finally find time to take care of himself. Schultz brought him a light breakfast, and after putting Schultz in charge for the next days – ordering him to keep him updated and to give him reports on a regular basis – the Kommandant went to bed. An ordinance had put fresh linens on the bed in the little guest-room, Schultz had unpacked his luggage and had brought some of Klink's clothes to the other room, and then finally – after one last time checking on Hogan who was deeply asleep – Wilhelm Klink slipped into bed.

It didn't take longer than a few minutes before sleep claimed him, too…

TBC…

Yeah, finally both men find some time to rest and in Hogan's case to heal. And, believe me, the latter will happen slowly – physically and mentally. Especially our dear colonel's soul is going to need a strong anchor to latch on to find a way to regain new strengths – and, like you certainly assume, Klink will be more than willing to be said anchor. In other words, the next chapter will be an emotional rollercoaster, but also in a special way very sweet.

I hope you liked the update, including Schultz and the Heroes who are near to grasp what is going on with the Kommandant, but – in the Heroes' case – remain clueless. I also took a deep pleasure in write Klink for once generous as he let LeBeau and Langenscheidt off the hook.

Like always, I'm very curios what you think of the new chapter and would be happy to get some reviews.

I wish you all a good start into the last week before Christmas,

Love

Yours Starflight