Hi, my dear readers!
I hope you had a beautiful, peaceful and merry Christmas, enjoyed the songs, the family / friends and gifts. Now, with the old year nearing its end, I didn't want to let you wait any longer for the next chapter. Like the last one it contains a lot of emotions, and our two colonels are growing closer, before the 'fat Sacher cake' arrives and Hogan is forced to re-live what happened to him. But 'Willie' will be there for him, so be ready for some more sweet scenes.
Thank you for the feedback, and I'm sorry that in the case of I'm partly not able to answer the reviews, because the 'answer'-button is blocked. My dear readers on : Thank-you for the comments; I love them. And also thank-you to my readers on 'archiveonourown'; of course you will get my answers to your reviews like usual.
And now have fun with the new chapter,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 18 – Troubled soul
Both men didn't completely sleep through the whole night. Shortly after midnight a coughing fit tore Klink out of his own nightmares, and even if his chest hurt and he felt more miserable than before, he was glad for the distraction. He had told Hogan that someone could grow due to nightmares; becoming stronger because of them and that their horror would lessen given time. This was something he had experienced after the first war, but many things had changed – not only within the last almost three years as he was confronted with his forbidden feelings for the same gender, but especially within the last days.
He had always feared that Hogan would be in terrible trouble one day – given his activities which had been first only assumptions, but were now utterly revealed to be true for the Kommandant. But to see the Grim Reaper reaching for the younger man two times within fifty hours, had scared the hell out of Klink. He hadn't thought twice as Hogan had been cuffed to the staff-car's door with death approaching in the form of hostile air-fighters shooting at everything that moved. Klink had simply acted – driven by his affection and fear for the man who held his heart.
Yet the second time had been even worse. Shooting Hogan's chains and running to safety had been a matter of seconds – had given him no time to think straight. To see him tortured and almost dead in the cellars of the Gestapo headquarters had been far more terrible. The moment he stepped through the door, saw Hogan forced under water by a malicious Hochstetter, movements already stilling, had woken fuming rage in him – but by now the wrath had turned into an odd mixture of horror and helplessness.
There was absolutely nothing he could do to spare the younger man the pain he was suffering and would have to endure within the next one or two weeks, maybe even longer. He could offer him comfort and the knowledge of safety, but this was all. He was damned to watch the person that meant the world to him struggle with everything he had been put through – and it gave Klink nightmares in a way he hadn't faced in almost two decades.
The first had hit him as he went to bed after dinner. He had dreamed that he came too late and Hogan was dead, and the icy despair that had flown through his veins in dreamland was still very real – especially as Klink woke up because of Hogan's screams and pleads to stop the torment. He had jumped out of bed and dashed towards the voice before he was even able to grasp a sane thought, had found the younger man wriggling and squirming among the sheets and had taken him in his arms while trying to wake him up, which he was finally able to do.
Despite the new panic attack and Hogan being sick afterwards, Klink was glad that he could help him at least a little bit, and he knew that his talk about dreams had somehow soothed Robert, too.
But Klink had barely found some more sleep afterwards, as the nightmares returned; this time he was forced to watch helplessly as Hochstetter branded the American – had smelled the sting of burning flesh, had heard the hoarse shouts and pleads for mercy until he finally woke up again; bathed in cold sweat, and mind and limbs heavy with dread.
Switching on the night-lamp on the nightstand, he sat up in bed and rubbed over his damp face with trembling hands; the echo of the horror of his dream as he had watched his beloved being tortured was still ringing through him. Driven by an unreasonable desire to make certain that Robert was still there and safe, Klink once again left the bed and tapped on bare feet through the cool quarters towards his usual sleeping chamber. In the dim light of the reading lamp he had left switched on, he saw the figure laying under the blanket and comforter – twitching in his sleep while from time to time a soft whimper drifted through the air.
For the first time he asked himself, if Hochstetter maybe had really tried to break Hogan by attempting to brand him. The colonel's panic a few hours ago, shouting hoarsely about a stigma in form of a double-s-rune, was still clear in Klink's mind, and he decided to ask Hogan about it as soon as the younger man was more himself again.
As quietly as possible, the Oberst found his way around the bed and looked down on the beaten up man. Hogan was obviously asleep – but even now deeply troubled. His bruised face grimaced here and there, and from time to time incoherent words in English and German escaped his split lips.
Klink reached out and carefully touched Robert's cheek. Hogan's fever was still high, despite the penicillin – the typical overreaction because of everything his body suffered. The German's breath hitched, as the younger man moved towards the touch – as if he was seeking comfort in proximity even in slumber. Klink took his hand away and received another soft whimper for it. Now, with his ever-witty and clever mind switched off, Robert Hogan resembled an overgrown boy more than ever before – a very troubled boy.
There was a quiet crack in the furnace and Klink became aware that the warmth in the sleeping chamber was dying down. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself while he turned towards the wood-basked to add some branches into the fire box of the stove. While he poked the fire back to life, he listened closely to the soft noises his American counterpart made: They spoke of unrest, bad dreams and many tracks more of a hurt soul and mind.
Klink placed the poker back on its stand and made up his mind.
Enough was enough!
Neither would he let Robert suffer any longer, nor himself. To hell with dignity and inhuman rules forbidding something as natural as feelings only because they were directed into an uncommon direction. In war and love anything was allowed, and especially after all the insanity he – and Hogan – had witnessed since the madness had gripped the world, he was starved to find and give love.
Throwing all good manners, shyness and home-driven caution out of the window, Wilhelm Klink lifted the comforter and blanket, slipped into bed beside the younger man, closed the distance to the pillows which still hindered Hogan from turning on his mess of a back, reached out and wrapped one arm around the colonel's waist. Bringing his face closer to the American's head, he whispered words of comfort towards him and recognized after a minute that Hogan had relaxed.
Klink's heart beat increased, while a wave of tenderness washed over him. He hadn't the tiniest clue if Hogan's subconscious realized it was him who held him, or if Robert simply reacted instinctively to the proximity of another human being, but no matter what was true, Klink was grateful that his presence had anchored his beloved once more.
A soft sigh of content escaped him, while his eyes drifted shut. For the first time since the whole mess started over two days ago, Klink felt at peace – in his quarters, in his bed, with the man he loved in his arms, while outside the falling snow settled like a plaid of white and quietness over the land. For once there was no droning of by-passing air-crafts to hear, no rumbles spoke of bombs or other fights. There was only the silence of the night, and Klink could pretend that they were far away from war and danger – maybe somewhere in the mountains, enjoying the winter and each other.
With those thoughts and hopes, Klink's mind drifted away.
This night none of the two men had any further nightmares and slept, for once, peacefully.
** HH **
Morning roll call came far too early – for Schultz, but also for most of the POWs. But especially for Newkirk.
He hadn't slept well; still feeling partly guilty for Hogan's condition. If he would have been more careful a few days ago in Hammelburg, he wouldn't have been mistaken for his superior officer which gave Hochstetter reason to arrest the colonel. After all, it wasn't the first time that the Gestapo caught him on a mission. There had been this incident with 'Gretchen' – a young woman he befriended who turned out to be a Gestapo-agent. It had been a close-call that they all would have been revealed to Hochstetter.
And then there was the mission he went to in place of Hogan and the Gestapo promptly mistook him for the colonel.
It was more than a half year ago that he, Newkirk, was sent to a meeting with an Underground cell that turned out to be infiltrated by a female Gestapo agent. They finally believed that he wasn't the man they wanted and he 'gave into' their demands of learning the frequency Papa Bear used. Keeping silent about the emergency-code he and Hogan had agreed on before the mission started, the colonel had been warned as the 'Underground' contacted him that something was not right. Hogan was able to catch the agent, free Newkirk and even blow up a munition company by the way.
It had shown Newkirk how quickly tables could be turned and he was still grateful that his superior and friend had risked everything to get him away from the Gestapo. Hogan had also tricked Schultz and Klink into believing Newkirk was very ill and was resting in the colonel's own room to prevent other POWs from getting sick, too.
To their fortune Hochstetter hadn't been involved, otherwise he would have finally gotten his proof that Hogan was behind most of the sabotages, vanishing people and other 'strange' things that happened in the area.
All in all it had been successful, but Newkirk had blamed himself afterwards that he hadn't been more cautious as he met the Underground-'members'. There had been hints that something was off, but he hadn't listen to his inner voice – just like a few days ago while he had been in Hammelburg.
Yes, Newkirk knew of the risk they all took whenever they were away from the camp for a mission and that something would go wrong someday hadn't been a matter of 'if' but 'when', but this time it had peaked in a close-call that made his belly churn.
And even in the area of Stalag 13 they were in danger of being caught and revealed everyday. The latter almost happened far too often for Newkirk's taste, but until now they all had been very, very lucky. And, maybe, their luck was based on more than Hogan's quick way of thinking for excuses and ways out – or Klink's blindness and foolishness. But given the German officer's behavior within the last two days and how fiercely he had protected – even saved – Hogan, Newkirk began to assume that Klink perhaps wasn't so blind and foolish like they all thought. Maybe the Oberst turned a blind eye and deaf ear to anything just like Schultz, and if so, they all owed the man their life a dozen times over.
Still Newkirk felt miserable that his activity a few days prior had been the reason for Hogan going through hell in Hochstetter's hands, and he knew he wouldn't find any peace until he had spoken with his superior and friend about it.
Like this the night went by without much sleep for Peter. Tired, in a bad mood, freezing and loaded with guilt, he followed the others outside for roll call in the early morning; realizing with an eye-roll that the compound was covered with another thick layer of snow and that the white glory still fell down from the skies. One morning more they would spend shoveling snow – what a joy!
Schultz was tired himself and, accordingly to his exhaustion, his mood was down to zero. He really hadn't any nerves for the POWs' usual jokes and taunts, and was glad when the roll call was over. Knowing that it was too early to report to Klink, he returned inside the Kommandantur to get warm before he made his way over to Klink's quarters around half past eight.
As he stepped into the small wooden building, the light of the reading lamp in the living room greeted him, and as he looked over to the guest room he saw that the door was open and a small light fell into the living area. Assuming that his superior had to be awake, he closed the distance to the door, only to find both bed and room empty. Frowning he listened towards the sleeping chamber and to the bathroom, thinking Klink was maybe refreshing himself, but it was far too quiet in the whole quarters for anyone to be awake and up at all.
Odd. Very odd! If Klink wasn't in the guest room and also not up, then where was the man?
Getting suspicious, Schultz walked as silently as possible to the sleeping room and peeked inside. His eyes widened in mild shock and his jaw hung open, before he closed it and a large smile spread over his round face.
There, cuddled together like children, lay the two colonels – wrapped around each other, with a pile of pillows partly above them, partly at their feet (and one on the floor), soundly asleep. Deep peace radiated in gentle waves from them, and Schultz sighed – remembering the times he and his wife were still young and in love. For him it was an eternity ago, for Klink (and maybe for Hogan, too), this time had just begun. And for once he didn't think it strange that two males were snuggling up like this. In these sinister times love was rare and he really hoped that there would be a happy ending for his superior and also for the American colonel.
Nodding with satisfaction to himself – at least those two had found some rest – he left the building; ordering a guard to watch the entrance and let no-one in except for himself. Then he went back to the Kommandantur; oddly happy for the two highest ranking officers in Stalag 13.
It was around nine o'clock, as the relatively peaceful morning abruptly ended, while Schultz made another round on the compound. He saw a gray staff-car with a double-ax arriving at the gates and knew instantly that Burkhalter had returned – certainly to speak with Klink and…
And maybe Klink still lay in bed with Hogan!
There was no misunderstanding possible, why the Oberst cuddled his senior POW and…
It was seldom the case that Hans Schultz ran, but this time he all but raced towards Klink's quarters, waved the guard aside and burst into the building.
"Herr KOMMMANDAAAANT!" he shouted.
In the sleeping chamber Klink was torn out of blissful sleep and sat up hastily "Are we under attack?" he gasped the first thing that came to his mind; blinking into the semi-darkness like an owl.
The loud "Ouch!" and a gentle 'thud' beside him, followed by a low groan startled him. Still foggy with sleep he turned his head. The view instantly woke him fully: Hogan, bandaged up with a lot of bruises even on his face, lay there and looked with one eye reproachfully up at him.
"This washn't nice," the American mumbled almost pouting, before he grimaced and pressed his eye shut. "Everything hurths," he slurred.
"Hogan! What…" Klink stopped abruptly as his memories rose deep in him, and, startled, he bent over the younger man. "Rob, did I hurt you?" he asked, distressed.
The same moment Schultz burst into the room – out of breath and agitated.
"Herr Kommandant, Gener…"
"Schultz!" Klink snarled. "Why the heck do you trample like a mad elephant into my quarters, startle the hell out of me, tear Colonel Hogan out of…"
Schultz, usually shutting up whenever Klink groused at him, wouldn't have anything of his superior's typical ranting for now. Leaning his rifle beside the door against the wall, he closed the distance to the bed, pulled the comforter and blanket away, and gripped for Klink's left upper arm; eliciting a pained yelp, which he ignored, from the Oberst.
"Quick, Herr Kommandant, go into the bathroom! General Burkhalter just arrived and if he sees you and Colonel Hogan cuddling together like ferrets, maybe he gets the right idea about your fierce protectiveness concerning the colonel." Realizing what he had just revealed, he hastily corrected himself, "I mean, the general gets the wrong idea why you fought for Colonel Hogan so much."
Klink, feeling steamrolled, rubbed his throbbing left upper arm and blinked in confusion at his Sergeant of the guards – and Schultz lost it. "Herrschaftszeiten noch oa moal (Bavarian curse, symbolic an expression for losing patience), Herr Oberst, HURRY up. The general is coming – and you are lying in bed with Colonel Hogan – who is a MAN!"
That finally got Klink's attention. With a hissed "Shit!" he swung his legs over the bed's edge, all but threw the covers back over a little bit confused but also amused Hogan, cursed as his left calf began to protest angrily, and raced to the bathroom.
"Finally," Schultz sighed, bent down and began to put the pillows in order.
"Trouble?" Hogan asked hoarsely, and as Hans caught the first sparkle of mirth dancing in the American's good eye, he felt relief washing over him. Obviously the colonel felt a little bit better.
"Jolly joker," Schultz said softly; smiling at the younger man, while he tried to put some tidiness into the bed. "Do you feel better?"
"I'll know when everything stops hurting," the colonel mumbled. He only slowly came around, fought back his returning memories and pain, and tried to find some hold by concentrating on the fact that Schultz (!) had torn Klink out of bed (!). He carefully relaxed and watched the large man's attempts to eliminate any tracks which could reveal that not one but two persons had slept here.
One moment.
Klink had slept beside him? The last thing he remembered was how Klink bid him good-night, left the room and let the reading lamp in the living area switched on to chase away Hogan's nightmares. And now he woke up by more or less thrown away by the Oberst, who had… 'cuddled like a ferret' with him?
"Schultz," Hogan began slowly. "Why was Klink sleeping beside me?"
"How shall I know? I found you two asleep like this more than an hour ago, left, and now, as Burkhalter arrived I…"
"Is anybody here?" the well-known voice demanded from somewhere at the entrance.
"When you speak of the devil," Schultz grumbled and made a dark face, before he put on a far too bright smile, straightened his shape, went to the door and took his rifle with him. "Joa mai, if this isn't General Burkhalter," he said a little bit louder; sounding very surprised. "I wish you a good morning, sir," he added while leaving the sleeping room.
"Schultz! What's the meaning of this? Why aren't you in Klink's office, but ran like a cannon ball on two legs to Klink's quarters?" Burkhalter's mood was already down again – like most times. With beady eyes he glared at the Sergeant of the Guards.
"Well… you see, Herr General… I… uh… The Kommandant ordered me to assist him here a quarter before nine o'clock, but me being in charge of the camp in the moment I somehow forgot it. And then… well… I made a short patrol, looked at my wristwatch, saw that it was already past nine o'clock, remembered what I promised Oberst Klink and ran to his quarters." He breathed through as he had this excuse finally uttered. "It was like this, Herr General," he beamed at him.
Inside of the sleeping chamber Hogan had closed his good eye, grimaced and groaned into the next pillow. Schultz and his explanations… Usually they were a reason to laugh, but just right now the colonel had hoped for the large Bavarian to be a brighter candle on the cake, for once. There was no way that Burkhalter would buy this story.
"As long as you don't forget what it means to be in charge of a POW-camp I have some hope left," Burkhalter sneered; proving that the general was – indeed – so convinced of Schultz being a fool that he didn't even get suspicious in this case.
Whatever this 'case' was for real.
The American frowned. What had made Klink lay down beside him, Hogan, and sleep here for the rest of the night? If someone would have found them, they would both be in deep trouble now and…
And Schultz had seen them and come running to Klink's quarters to warn them? And, something that gave Hogan second thoughts, the large Bavarian didn't seem to be shocked about it?
Odd! Really odd!
"And where is Klink now?" Burkhalter's voice drove Hogan's attention back towards the scene in the living room.
"In the bathroom, Herr General," Schultz answered truthfully.
The same moment the door to the bathroom opened and Klink stepped out – only wearing his nightgown; after all he had left his slippers, bathrobe and even his monocle in the guestroom. At least his hair was combed. Pressing one index finger against his lips as he looked shortly at Hogan, he tiptoed to the door and stepped outside.
"Schultz! There you are. I waited for you to… Oh, good morning, Herr General! How nice of you to stop by before you leave for Berlin. I trust you slept well?" He sounded almost cheerful and Hogan could imagine the false, too kind smile on the older man's face that only poorly masked his uncertainty and discomfort.
The colonel shook his head inwardly. Schultz and Klink couldn't become actors even if their lives depended on it!
"Yes, surprisingly – given the mess here in Hammelburg," Burkhalter said sourly. "I came to ask Colonel Hogan some questions should he be responsive today. How is he?"
In the living-room Klink felt himself growing even more nervous than he already was. Rubbing his hands and chuckling, he answered, "Well, I don't know. I all but crept into the bathroom for my morning toilette, and the poor bastard didn't move at all. And as far as I could see he runs a high fever. I wanted to call for Wilson as soon as I'm a little bit more presentable and…" He had to cough again, and it really sounded awful.
"You should stay in bed, Klink, and get better as soon as possible," Burkhalter grumbled.
"Thank you for your worry, Herr General," the Oberst smiled after he regained some breath. "I never thought that you value me so much."
"I don't worry about you, I worry about the camp. Of you and Schultz, you are the smaller catastrophe, Klink!" the staff officer sneered, before he removed his gloves and put them on the table. "Schultz, make us some tea or coffee, and then leave us alone. I've to speak with Hogan before I indeed leave for Berlin – and take Hochstetter with me."
Despite the offense he had had to endure once again only seconds ago, Klink couldn't help himself but grinned broadly. "So, you'll really take the black-clad poison-dwarf with you?"
"Yes, I keep my word." He glared at his inferior. "While I talk with Hogan in private, please put something on, Klink. When I see your nightgown I've to think of my shrew at home and then my mood drops even more."
"If this is even possible," the Kommandant whispered beneath his breath, before he quickly walked with an "Excuse me please!" toward the guestroom.
In the sleeping-room Hogan had listened carefully, even if his headache worsened. He had to know what Burkhalter wanted, and it really didn't surprise him much that the general came to speak with him. Of course the colonel had to give several statements concerning his captivity, and even if he didn't look forward to mentally facing everything once again, he also knew that everything he said could be used against Hochstetter. To be confronted with the unpleasant memories once again was a small price to pay, if it would lead to Hochstetter being out of his hair forever!
He heard a soft noise at the door and forced his good eye open. His limited gaze found the fat figure clad in gray at the entrance. He didn't like the thought of being questioned by Burkhalter without Klink present, on the other hand he had seen how much everything that happened to him had made the Oberst furious. Maybe it was better certain details weren't revealed to Klink – especially given the Kommandant's current health or, better to say, lack of it.
Moistening his lips, he whispered, "Good morning, General Burkhalter."
The staff officer glanced at the American colonel; once again shocked at his condition. The bruises had darkened and colored since the day prior. Some of them were a nasty mixture of deep red and lilac; others reminded him of starless skies during night. Hogan looked even worse than yesterday.
"Hogan," he said quietly while stepping in and closing the door. "I think it isn't necessary to ask how you are doing."
"Miserable doesn't even come close, sir," Hogan answered and, gritting his teeth, he tried to roll around and sit up. Pain shot through his shoulders, upper arms and back, while his belly stung like it had been stabbed. Unable to suppress a gasp he closed his eyes and continued his effort, as all of sudden two hands helped him. Looking up he realized, baffled, that it was Burkhalter who supported him; the small eyes showed a mixture of sympathy and anger.
"This is absolutely intolerable," Burkhalter grumbled. "Hochstetter will be punished for it. You have my word." Shoving a few pillows behind Hogan's back, he helped the colonel lay back more or less in a sitting position, before he straightened his shape and watched the American closely. What was the English saying? Looking like shit? Well, in this case it fit perfectly. Yet he couldn't spare the younger man the next minutes.
"I know that you need to rest and that you suffer not only a nasty cold and severe bruises, but also a concussion. Even through your pain, are you able to answer a few questions?"
Hogan took a deep breath. "Yes," he murmured.
Burkhalter nodded, removed his cap, put it on the dressing table, opened his coat, pulled the chair from the room's edge to him and sat down. "Can you give me a report of what Hochstetter did and said to you exactly – from your arresting three days prior 'til yesterday as Klink stopped him?"
Hogan gulped. The mere thought of being confronted with everything once again, without having a chance to deal with it prior for himself, sent a shiver down his spine, but he knew that he had no other choice. Not if he wanted to get Hochstetter out of the way.
So he made an affirming gesture, tried to shut out any feelings and began to tell what happened from his point of view. It was cumbersome and tiring, and he was grateful as Schultz brought some tea a few minutes later that helped his sore throat a lot.
Outside in the living room Klink paced up and down, despite the stinging pain in his left calf. He was vivid with worry; knowing that the questioning must be tiring Hogan out – not only physically but also mentally. The urge to ignore Burkhalter's orders and enter the sleeping room to give his American counterpart some mute support by simply being there was almost too strong. Two times he headed firmly towards the door, only to be stopped by Schultz, who knew exactly what was going on in his superior's mind.
"Herr Kommandant, you'll only get in trouble if you go inside now," he said quietly.
"I'm in charge of this camp – and Hogan is my senior POW. When he is being questioned an officer of the Luftwaffe has to be present and…"
"Herr Oberst, General Burkhalter may be a member of the Heer and not of the Luftwaffe, but he is responsible for all Stalags, so I do think that this special regulation is satisfied."
Klink only stared at him, balled his right hand into a fist, huffed – and continued to pace. Schultz watched him with sympathy; being fully aware of the worry his superior had to endure now knowing that the one he cared so much for was forced to relive the malignant memories all over again.
After a quarter hour of reporting and answering questions, Hogan was exhausted. Burkhalter looked more sour than ever before after he got a lot of his own assumptions confirmed. To use truth drugs as well as psychical pressure methods during the questioning of suspicious people was common within the Gestapo, but open torture like Hochstetter had done was out of limits. This, together with the fact that the major refused to check Hogan's alibi, used real torture and ignored Burkhalter's orders, were enough deeds to send Hochstetter to prison for a lot of years.
Closing the notepad he had used to make notes of what Hogan told him, he glanced almost gently at the tired American, and said softly, "Thank you for your report, Hogan – and for your effort to relive everything anew. I will write it down and add it to the documents I'll present at the trial. I'll send a copy in advance that you have to please read through and sign. It will be your official statement that will be used during the court-martial. I hope it will be enough for the judge, otherwise you're going to have to appear in court and will be questioned."
"Understood," Hogan said quietly. "You really want to go through with this? I'm only a POW and…"
"Law is law, Hogan – and Hochstetter broke it. More than this – he put his personal regards and desire for revenge over the law and went against anything man-kind call 'humanity'. We are at war, yes, but there are still some rules left. I know that it has to be difficult for you to understand that we would go against one of our own men to give justice to an enemy officer, but even in these dark times justice has to be followed." He rose and took his cap. "I'll keep Klink, and therefore you, updated. Get well soon, Hogan." He made a short gesture of his head that was almost a hint of a bow – a signal of respect from officer to officer.
And Hogan managed to rise his right hand to a short military salute.
"General, thank you for your help yesterday – and for listening. Should we win this war, I'll put in a good word for you to the Allies."
Burkhalter stared at him – and began to chuckle for the first time ever since Hogan had met him. "And if we should win the war, I'll hire you as my personal adviser and bodyguard. I've never met someone who is this strong and keeps his humor even in the most sinister moments like you do." Giving a proper salute in true respect he went to the door, but hesitated before he could reach for the handle. One thing was nagging at him since the whole mess started – and especially after he stepped into the cellars of the Gestapo-Headquarters to find Klink turned into a protective warrior.
"Hogan, please allow me one personal question." As the colonel only nodded, he took a deep breath. "You are a highly intelligent man and therefore must have known that Hochstetter would be after you as soon as he learned that you and Klink hadn't died in the aircraft ambush. Why didn't you use your chance to flee? Klink was injured and wouldn't have been able to follow you. Why did you make no attempt to escape, but brought Klink back to the camp?"
Well, this was a question his men and also Klink had asked him. Hell, he had even asked himself the same a few times by now, but besides the fact that he couldn't let down his men by making a run for freedom while they were still captured, there remained another answer that wasn't less true than the other one.
"As you said, Klink was injured – and he was too thinly clothed to stay out in the open for hours. Not during this hard winter. He wouldn't have made it back to the camp alive. If I would have left, he would have died. I couldn't let him down like this. Not Klink!"
Burkhalter shortly pursed his plump lips. Hochstetter had pointed out the odd closeness the two men seemed to have developed and he, Burkhalter, had witnessed, too. "'Not Klink', you said. What makes him so special to you? Most times he's a fool – and technically you two are enemies."
"And practically we're not," Hogan answered quietly; knowing that he had to be careful now. To befriend an adversarial officer could be interpreted as treason, and he didn't want to endanger Klink or give Burkhalter a reason to separate them by sending the Oberst to the Russian Front or him, Hogan, to another Stalag. "Colonel Klink always treated me with respect and politeness. It made me regard him in another light. In another time, if we weren't at war, I certainly would see a friend in him." He took a deep breath; inwardly crossing his fingers because those words came close to a lie. He wouldn't see Klink as a friend, the older man had become his friend. But this was something the general shouldn't learn of, so he added as explanation for his silly behavior, "And as he raced back into the shower of bullets to save me, or as he came into the Gestapo-Headquarters and got me out, he didn't appear to me as a fool, but rather as a honorable, stern warrior who doesn't let fear of the devil stop him from doing what he thinks is right. Without him I would be dead now. Of course I had to help him – and I would do it again."
"Even with the knowledge of what may be laying ahead for you just like you did as Hochstetter returned and arrested you?" Burkhalter asked; assuming that Hogan told him only a part of the whole reason why he risked so much for his German counterpart.
The colonel lifted his chin. "Yes, even then. As I said, I've come to respect the Kommandant greatly, and this doesn't depend on good times. The dark times show you who is really honorable and who is not. I knew that Hochstetter would get me as soon as he got the information that his little plan to get rid of me had failed, but this was no reason for me to let the man down who had just saved my life."
Burkhalter didn't know what to say for a moment. The strange loyalty the American colonel displayed towards a man who should be his enemy made him almost uncomfortable. There were men he called 'friends', but the general was convinced that not one of them would move a finger should he be in deep water or if there was a chance that they would face trouble by displaying loyalty towards him. And this young man here, an officer of a hostile army, put the health of his jailer above his own, only because he held him in high regard. Klink was maybe a fool and an idiot, but he had found in Hogan a true friend – something Burkhalter couldn't state of himself – and it woke jealousy in him, but also an odd sadness. There was the saying that you get lonelier with each step up the career ladder, but Hogan and Klink had high ranks, too, yet they had true friends.
Burkhalter sighed soundlessly. Sometimes he wished he would be nothing more than a man with a simple job, less responsibilities and a warm and welcoming home, where he could spend his evenings with real friends and a nice wife.
'Perhaps it will happen in another life,' he thought, before he straightened his shape, took his cap and looked one time back at Hogan.
"I think your superiors wouldn't share your point of view, but I have to agree with you in one thing: Men with honor should treat each other with dignity and respect, no matter the nationality. And I'm glad that a few of those men are still left." He went to the door. "Get better soon, Colonel."
Closing his eye, the American tried to relax the moment the general left the room, but the talk with him still turned over and over again in Hogan's mind. He hadn't left anything out as he made his report; knowing that every detail was a nail more to Hochstetter's 'coffin'. With the major out of the way, he and his men would have it easier with the coming missions – that meant, as soon as he was able to walk properly again and show his face in public without scaring all people away.
Outside in the living area, Klink was more or less in Burkhalter's face – not asking but demanding answers of what the general and Hogan had spoken.
"Klink, last time I checked, I'm your superior here and not the other way around. If you want to give orders, then address Schultz," the general snapped. "And concerning Hogan: Ask him yourself. I'm certain that he will not keep anything from you since he regards you in such a bright light," He placed on his cap. "Yet I do hope that none of you two forget that you're on different sides in this damn war." He pulled on his gloves. "Good day, gentlemen!"
He left – and Klink glared after him. "Such a bad mood! Well, if I would look like this and see myself every morning uncombed and unshaven in the mirror, my mood would be down for the rest of the day, too."
Schultz laughed out loud, but calmed himself as he received a typical sharp glance from his superior. Sighing he murmured, "I'll tell the ordinance to get you and Colonel Hogan some breakfast."
"Thank you. He shall bring it in a quarter hour. First I've to speak with Hogan."
Hurrying to the sleeping chamber, he quietly stepped in and stopped beside the bed. His American counterpart turned his head and looked up at him – tired and obviously shaken.
"How are you feeling?" Klink asked softly.
Hogan shook his head very carefully. "You don't want to know," he said quietly.
"Would I ask otherwise?" the older man replied gently. "Robert, I don't ask out of politeness or as the Kommandant of this camp. I ask you because I care."
The younger man looked at him again – the good eye widened slightly. Then something like a smile moved his split lips, while warmth appeared in his gaze. "Thanks, Willie. After everything I just had to relive in my mind, I almost forgot that not all German officers are bad."
"You feel like shit, am I right?" Klink murmured and earned a short chuckle.
"I couldn't have said it better," Hogan deadpanned, then he turned serious again. "I feel even more beaten up than yesterday," he admitted.
The Oberst nodded; he had already anticipated it. "That's because your adrenalin is down and your body finally feels everything that has been done to it." He took a deep breath. "I'll call the hospital and ask Dr. Birkhorn to come over to the camp to check on you."
"Th's not necessary," Hogan murmured. "I'll heal."
"Yes, the question is only how you will heal – the easy way or the difficult one. And, besides, I won't take the risk that some of your wounds get infected – or that you get pneumonia."
"Don't give yourself trouble," the colonel sighed and caught the suddenly stern gaze of his German counterpart.
"Hogan, usually you are living, breathing trouble on two legs, yet it is no trouble for me to make certain that you get well and therefore become said living trouble again." That earned him a snicker this time and his heart beat faster for a moment. Then he realized how the haunted expression returned in Hogan's gaze, and sat down on the bed's edge. "How went your talk with Burkhalter? He wasn't too demanding and stern, I hope."
"I told him everything that happened," the colonel murmured and lowered the gaze of his good eye. "It was… unpleasant to think and speak about the details I tried to forget, but I do understand that Burkhalter needs to get as much knowledge as possible to put Hochstetter on hold." He frowned as another urge made itself recognizable. "Kommandant, could you call Wilson? I've to use the restroom and…"
Klink rose, pulled the comforter and blanket away and offered Hogan his hand. "We don't need the sergeant for it. Come on, I'll help you."
Again baffled about the older man's unlimited willingness to support him, the American carefully sat up, looked at the Oberst' hand – and stiffened. The colonel frowned as he saw the bruises Klink sported there. "What have you done to your hand?" he asked – partly to distract himself, partly with concern.
First Klink blinked at him, confused, before his gaze wandered down to his own hand. Letting his arm sink and flexing his fingers, he murmured, "It's nothing serious."
Hogan knew those tracks well enough. He had seen them dozens of times – on old school-mates, comrades and a lot on his own hands during his wild years. "You didn't have those bruises when you went to Hammelburg's hospital." He took a sharp breath as the truth dawned on him. "Burkhalter asked me to tell him everything between Hochstetter's first attempt to arrest me and the moment you stopped him from killing me. Don't tell me… you did the latter by punching Hochstetter," he said slowly. He was almost shocked to see Klink's face brightening up to a wide grin, while the blue eyes shone with satisfaction and even glee.
"Yes, I socked him – square on the chin. Two times. He lay there like a broken doll for at least a minute, and I really wish he would have stayed like this longer. He deserved it!"
If a parade of German, American, British and French soldiers in full dress-uniform on horses, accompanied by orchestras playing marches, would have waltzed through the room, Hogan couldn't have looked more thunderstruck than in this moment.
Klink – KLINK! – of all people had knocked out an officer of the Gestapo and the SS with his own bare fist? Klink, the man who avoided confrontation at all costs, snaked himself out of any hairy situation and bent himself backwards only to not get into trouble, clouted another officer who belonged, above all, to the most dreaded para-military organization within Europe? Holy heavens, what had gotten into the man?
The Oberst took in the flabbergasted face of the younger man and chuckled. "Surprised? Believe me, I was a little bit surprised myself, but I didn't regret it. I would have loved to give him even more pieces of my mind after what he did to you."
Hogan closed his eyes shortly, before he whispered. "You… you are crazy." He glanced up at Klink again; worry edged in his hoarse voice, "Sweet Lord, he will bring you to court-martial for this! To attack another officer means…"
"Burkhalter arrested him for attempted murder, abuse of his rank and position, insubordination, broken laws and torture," Klink interrupted him softly. "Hochstetter went against several important rules of the Wehrmacht, disregarded his duty as he fled during the ambush and let down not only a POW but also a higher ranking officer of the Luftwaffe and disobeyed a general of the Heer. He would be insane to press charges against me, because after all I only attacked him to prevent him from murdering someone." He shook his head. "No, Hochstetter gambled too high this time and lost. Even Himmler demanded his arrest as Burkhalter spoke with him. So, don't worry, Hogan. I will not be brought to trial for punching this bastard."
"I hope so," the American whispered. "I don't want you to be arrested and maybe sentenced to only God knows what, only because you defended me."
The glance Klink gave him was full of warmth, yet there was also some pride to see. "If you want to do the right thing, most of the ways leading to it are full of stones. I stumbled a few times, but I always regained my footing – and it hasn't stopped me until now to walk this way. Now even more than ever before. Of course Hochstetter will try to give me trouble – hell, he'd certainly want to press charges against me for treason because I stood up for a POW who, he is convinced, belongs to the Underground. Burkhalter told me a few things Hochstetter suspects you of. But regarding the fact that many accusations are nothing more than smoke because you've tight alibis, everyone will regard Hochstetter's accusations as what they are: Attempts to cover for his failures – and for his criminal deeds."
He watched Hogan closely while speaking to him, and he had recognized how the younger man suddenly avoided his gaze as the topic came down to Hochstetter's suspicions. 'Getting a guilty conscience for lying through your teeth even to me, love? Certainly – and we'll talk about it when you're feeling better.'
Putting on a smile, he bent down and offered the colonel his hand again. "Come on, Hogan, let us get you up and into the bathroom. Schultz will be coming with breakfast soon, and afterwards I'll call for Wilson to have a look at you before Dr. Birkhorn comes."
Slowly, carefully not to stir more pain by hasty movements, Hogan crept to the edge of the bed and allowed Klink to pull him to his feet. He felt dizzy and unsure on his legs, as he began to feel cold the moment the warm covers weren't around him any longer. He knew that he sported a fever and yearned to lay down again, but certain matters were more urgent now, and so he limped towards the bathroom; grateful for Klink's support.
"You really don't have to phone the doctor. I…"
"We are both in need of his assistance, Hogan, end of discussion!"
Baffled, the American looked at his German counterpart. This streak of becoming really stern all of sudden was new – and somehow he liked it.
TBC…
Well, this was the first 'little' break-down Hogan had – and of course Klink (the man in love, NOT the Kommandant) was there to help him. It will be a harsh way of healing for our beloved colonel, but his friends and 'Willie' are doing their best to get him through it.
I also loved to write the scene in which 'Willie' skips every modesty and slips into bed beside Robert – a sleeping arrangement that will not stop so soon (*snicker*). And I also enjoyed to write the moment Hogan learns of Klink punching Hochstetter. I hope, you liked it among the other things, too.
Like always I LOVE to get some review/comments, so hopefully you have some time to leave them – despite the preparation for the 'biggest party of the year'.
In this regard I wish you all a lot of fun during New Year's Eve tomorrow,
A Happy New Year – and thank you for your loyalty.
Love
Yours Starflight
