Hi, my dear readers,

Sorry that the new chapter wasn't posted yesterday, but my mom was released from hospital yesterday and I stayed with her for longer, before I helped my dad with the household (right, he does the cooking and he also cleans everything, but he is on the warpath with the laundry and, of course, I had to help my parents now). But, finally, I find some time to publish the next chapter.

Thank you so much for the many comments and other feedback. I knew that you would love the last chapter, and the tension between the two colonels will grow even more.

But first there is the newest mission to plan – and, to the Heroes' surprise, Klink supports them actively. The chapter will be fluffy, funny but also will have some gravely moments, because, even if the camp is far away from any battle-scenes, the war rages more and more, and the news about it do not stop at the wires.

Yet I hope you're going to like it.

Have fun

Love

Yours Starflight

Chapter 28 – Scheming

"Understood, Little Red Riding Hood. Papa Bear, roger and out!" Kinch sat the headset up and switched off the radio. Newkirk stood beside him, both arms wrapped around himself. It was freezing cold down in the tunnels – the cold had crept into the ground and was radiating from the walls in uncomfortable waves.

"And?" Peter asked; shivering and wishing to be close to the stove over their heads.

"Danzig found out that the wings for the new ME-262 are indeed being transported from Stuttgart to somewhere in the middle east, and the train-route passes through not too far away from Hammelburg; using the speed-route from Schweinfurt. London has already given us the green light to give our best to lessen the amount of components reaching this secret facility. Carter will be happy. He hasn't blown up anything within the last four weeks."

He rose, while Newkirk began chuckling. "Blimey, I don't want to take a closer look at his wish to study pharmacy. Every cough mixture he creates will be explosive."

Kinchloe laughed quietly. "At least afterwards the patient won't have a cold anymore." He walked towards the 'ladder'. "Let us go upstairs. I'm freezing my ass off – and it's almost time for roll call."

"Only your ass? I can't feel my hands anymore," Newkirk joked. "Therefore you have to carry me up the ladder."

Kinch tipped at his forehead and grinned. "In your dreams."

*** HH ***

It was incredibly comfortable, warm and cozy. Someone was wrapped around him and even if some of his injuries stung, he didn't mind. Lying in someone else's arms felt far too heavenly to complain about a few itches or an uncomfortable throbbing at his left side.

Then the peaceful silence was abruptly pierced by the shrill noise of an alarm-clock. His 'human blanket' began to groan and mumble something about 'fünf Minuten' (five minutes), but the silly alarm-clock didn't react to those words and continued to rattle and clatter.

"Switch-it-off," Hogan mumbled; too drowsy to even move a finger.

A low curse in German was heard, then the 'human blanket' moved away and a few moments later the hellish noise stopped.

"Ich hasse Wecker (I hate alarm-clocks)!" Klink grumbled, braced himself backwards on both underarms and sulked a little bit.

Hogan sighed as he heard the unmistakable, Saxonian dialect; not caring that he lay in bed with Klink. He was used to waking up beside the older man by now – and at least in these moments when his mind wasn't fully awake, he even enjoyed the improper proximity.

"You've delayed the morning roll calls," he reminded the Oberst and snuggled even deeper into the pillows.

As he heard Hogan's voice from the heap of comforter and blankets beside him, Klink couldn't help the smile that tugged at his mouth. Robert sounded casual and utterly relaxed, and Klink felt peace washing over him. He could really get used to waking up beside the younger man every morning for the rest of his life.

Looking over at the alarm-clock, he saw that even this grace period he had granted his POWs, his men and himself was over, and moaned, "No chance, Hogan. It's already half past seven."

"Delay it again," came the wry and uncharacteristic comment, and Klink began to chuckle.

"There is someone very lazy with his sense of duty, my dear colonel!"

'There is someone very eager…' The same voice echoed in Hogan's memories and with this memory the pictures and sensations of last night's dream returned.

Hogan groaned and buried his face in the comforter. He so wanted to forget this forbidden, delicious fantasy – or the mess afterwards. God, had he really come in the bathroom, only because…

He was distracted as Klink began to rise – and panic woke in the American. What if he hadn't cleaned everything thoroughly enough and there were still some tracks left from his slip of control?

"WAIT!" he almost yelped, threw the covers away and rose hastily.

"Do you have the runs again?" Klink asked; stopping his own movements.

"Sort of!" Hogan panted and stumbled towards the bathroom; still limping. "Excuse me," he managed to say before he quickly locked the door behind him.

Thunderstruck, Klink stared at the closed door. "Wilson should really check you through," he sighed, then he realized how cool it was with the fire in the furnace smoldering out. Shrugging, he snuggled back under the blankets. He would have to hurry as soon as Hogan was back, but until then there was no reason to turn into an icicle.

Hogan came back five minutes later. He had used the toilette and had been more than relieved to see that all evidence of his impossible behavior last night had really been removed. Klink lay in bed, covers pulled 'til his nose, and looked at him, concerned.

"I'm all right," the colonel told him before Klink could've asked, rounded the bed and slipped under the comforter.

The Oberst only nodded, but there was a determined gleam in his eyes – one Hogan knew by now. It was obvious that at least Wilson would be alerted, and he hoped that the medic would buy the story Hogan would present him.

*** HH ***

Well, there isn't much to examine when someone has the runs, and therefore Wilson didn't get suspicious. He only ordered that Hogan should drink some more tea, eat less greasy foods and keep his belly warm. Then he checked the colonel's stitches and other wounds, and removed the stitches which had been done to close the less deep cuts. The other ones, so he declared, still had to heal two or three days more until they could be removed.

Yet the most important stitches for Hogan were those on his head and, as Wilson confirmed that they could be removed maybe within the next two or three days, the colonel really was happy.

"Am I allowed to wash my hair then?" Hogan asked, almost eagerly. "Don't get me wrong here, Joe, but everything is itching by now."

"I do understand you," Wilson said while closing the med-kit. "But you still have to be careful. You don't want to ruin what your body has healed until now. Two or three days, and you can take a shower."

"Thank the Lord," Hogan all but sighed. "I feel more than dirty by now."

Wilson smiled at him, looked at the white pajamas that seemed to be made of parachute silk and chuckled. "At least you've spare nightclothes. Not that this is a big luxury, but it certainly makes a few things easier."

"Yeah – thanks to LeBeau and his sewing talents," Hogan nodded; pulling at one sleeve.

"And I also think 'thanks to Klink'. This is parachute silk and you could only have gotten it from the camp's stock, so the Kommandant must have given his permission to use it."

The colonel wasn't aware of the smile that tugged at his almost healed lips. "Well, LeBeau complained about me wearing Klink's clothes from time to time – and Klink certainly wanted to spare his nose unpleasant smells which go hand in hand with wearing nightclothes for many days without changing them. He suggested the tailoring, sacrificed an unusable parachute and LeBeau swung his needle. And, voila, everyone is happy."

Wilson began to laugh. After giving Hogan another shot of penicillin and redoing the bandages, he bid his superior good-bye and left; asking himself what the future would hold for the two opposing, yet obviously secretly befriended, officers.

He couldn't know how many twists lay ahead for the two men.

*** HH ***

Hogan tried to find some rest, but his mind was still in turmoil. What had taken place last night had shown him the amount of trouble he was in. There was no way that something like this could happen again, but he knew that he had no real control over his subconscious – and this unsettled him a lot. This time he had been able to cover his slip, but he couldn't present Klink with a made-up story of having the runs several more times. Contrary to his former beliefs, the Oberst was no idiot and would realize that something was up and very off the chart with his senior POW officer.

So, what to do?

'Just give into your desire and enjoy it. The last time has been too long ago. And Klink certainly wouldn't mind – rather the opposite. He will be very happy to help you out, old boy!' this crazy voice from his reckless side suggested.

'You're insane!' the more rational part answered. 'It's against the law, public morals, the Church, even if it is about love, and… Well, it's forbidden. And it would change everything!'

'Everything has already changed!' came the not so useful reply.

'No, not fully. Until now you're still in control of yourself and of everything that happens.'

'Yeah, this was very obvious last night.'

'That's different. You can't decide what you dream, but you can control your body.'

'And once again: Remember last night!"

'A one-time-slip, nothing more. Giving into this crazy wish would turn everything upside-down. You're not gay, this much is certain, and this crazy… lust for Klink is nothing more than an overreaction because of everything that happened. And, besides, it could endanger the mission if you allow yourself to be ruled by your feelings.'

'So you admit to having feelings for him?'

'I'm ignoring this question. And, by the way, you NEVER let any emotions mingle with your duty and…'

'It will not interfere with duty – it will make it easier.'

'Shut up.'

"Is this the best you can come up with?'

'I said: Shut up!'

'Running out of arguments?'

Hogan sat up and stared wide-eyed at the wall as he realized what was going on. "Oh my GOD! Now I'm having a discussion with myself!" he groaned.

"Don't we all, here and there?"

Startled, Hogan turned his head and looked straight at a broadly grinning Kinchloe who lent with crossed arms against the door-frame.

"I don't want to get too personal, Colonel, but you look like a man who has to turn over really strong problems in his mind," the Sergeant teased.

'You have no idea,' Hogan thought. Aloud he replied, "This is the result when I have too much time to think."

Kinch chuckled and pushed himself away from the doorframe to come in. "Then I may have another thing you can think of. Danzig radioed us this morning. The Underground found out that the wings for the ME-262 are transported from Stuttgart towards the middle-east of Germany. It passes Würzburg and Schweinfurt before its route turns north, and this means…" He didn't end the sentence but looked expectantly at Hogan.

"… it bypasses near Hammelburg," the colonel finished the line; smirking. "And if they send the trains via Schweinfurt instead of directly via Hammelburg, which is the shorter way, it means that the railway we tinkered with last year to save Tiger hasn't been completely repaired."

Kinchloe laughed quietly. "I don't think that the Krauts are calling our messing with their railways 'tinkering', but I know what you mean." He continued to smirk.

Hogan shrugged. "One man's joy is another man's suffering." He sighed. "I'd already assumed something like this when we freed Tiger back in December. We drove a few kilometers before we shed our masquerade, eliminated her guards and fled with her. The train was blown up behind Bad Kissingen. So this is the second time the Germans have had to repair this rail section. And, because of the winter and their lack of materials by now, their attempts to close the gap we left in this route have been hindered." He shortly pursed his lips. "If we want to 'tinker' with the other route, we've to be very careful. They will be guarding the area, no doubt. We need to know details of the other railway – bridges, curves, and so on. And we need to know when the trains arrive, how the cargo is disguised, the speed of the trains, etc."

"I'll contact Danzig again and ask him to give us these details," Kinchloe offered.

"Good. Tell Carter that he can start building some bases for bombs, but he ought to be damn careful with the stuff he puts in them. I really don't want to have a new series of 'earthquakes' here in Stalag 13. Klink will keep his mouth shut, but he would certainly have a hard time explaining something like subterranean explosions to his men – and we don't want a few of them becoming suspicious and too 'dutiful'."

Kinch sighed. "Consider it done, Colonel." He turned to leave, but stopped one last time. "Sir, when we succeed, Berlin will certainly send a whole bunch of Gestapo-officers to sniffle around."

"Oh, let them come. I'll still be too weak to even walk properly and you'll all have your own alibis, given by our dear Klink."

"You think so?"

A smile appeared on Hogan's face – a warm kind of smile he wasn't aware of. "Willie will spread his protective wings over us. Don't forget, he finally has become the Iron Eagle again, and this for us."

Kinchloe snorted softly. "From your mouth to the Lord's ear, sir." He saluted casually and left.

And Hogan, finally, had something else his mind could be busy with.

*** HH ***

Klink wasn't surprised to find the entirety of Hogan's gang in his sleeping chamber, as he returned from his office for lunch. The only exception was LeBeau, who nodded at him through the open kitchen door, from where – once again – a delicious smell wafted through the rooms.

Leaving coat, scarf and cap at the coat-rack and clamping his riding-crop beneath his right arm, he closed the distance to the other men, who had already become aware of him and, to his utter surprise, saluted seriously.

"Gentlemen," he greeted them. "At ease."

He stepped into the sleeping chamber, put his riding-crop on the dresser and looked at Hogan. The first thing he recognized was the eager sparkle in the colonel's brown eyes and the smile that played around his lips. He knew the younger man well enough to know the reason for it.

"You've got your next mission," he stated, and his American counterpart nodded with a sudden grin.

"Yep!"

"End of boredom," Klink commented wryly, before he turned serious again. "Is there anything the Gentlemen need?"

"A detailed chart of the railways in the area, a truck, some alibis and…" Hogan stopped and chuckled as he saw the German officer's flabbergasted expression. "I was only joking," he said.

"No, you weren't!" Klink answered. "You got information about the components for the ME-262 which are transported by train. And you want to stop or delay those transports," he thought aloud. "Please, no more detonations in Hammelburg or northern of Bad Kissingen. The last time you didn't only wreak a lot of destruction at the railway and a few houses, you also burnt two hillsides of vineyards – and the Bocksbeutel (special white wine of this area) is too good to get burnt."

Hogan chuckled. "There aren't any vineyards in the east of our camp, are there?"

"No, not to my knowledge," the Oberst affirmed; frowning. "East of here runs the railway from Schweinfurt to Meiningen, passing Poppenhausen and a few small villages before it reaches Bad Kissingen. It's the only railway left after your deeds last December. And the mentioned route is practically on the same level as Hammelburg, only twenty kilometers away." He looked thoughtfully at his American counterpart. "You want to sabotage the railway there."

"It's within Papa Bear's area, but also far enough away to not endanger the towns and our camp," Hogan shrugged. "And, by the way, we don't want to set up a large, shining signal pointing at Stalag 13. You're right, Kommandant: The brass in Berlin is certainly paranoid by now, and even with me restricted to bed, the Gestapo and Burkhalter would get second thoughts if the sabotage happens too close to our camp."

"Well, everything that happened within a certain radius of our camp gave Hochstetter second thoughts," Carter murmured.

"Yes, and even with Hochstetter arrested we've to be careful. He wasn't the only smart mind within the Gestapo. Other members of this devil-club are capable of putting one and one together, too. We can't risk getting lazy now, just because Hochstetter is out of the way."

"Hogan has a point here," Klink cut in. "You should give the brass proof that Papa Bear is still active, which is its own kind of alibi for all of you, while Hogan is sick, but you shouldn't overdo it." He sighed. "But I agree that the transports of the components have to be delayed. We will not be able to stop them, but every stone we throw into Goering's way gains more time for the Allies. So let us come up with some schemes."

None of the Heroes missed Klink's references to 'we' and 'us'. And it slipped from his lips so easily that there was no doubt about his sincerity. Even Newkirk had to admit that Klink sounded honest.

Hogan nodded. "Okay, then it's settled. The rail sections east of here is it. Any ideas?" he addressed his men.

"If we install the bomb at the middle of a bridge, the loco will be disturbed when it passes the spot, fall down and pull the wagons with it," Carter suggested.

Hogan pressed his lips in a firm line for a moment. "I would prefer to let the locomotive pass and blow up the middle of the train. Like this the cargo and the railway are destroyed, but the train staff on the loco has a chance to jump off it if the engine has already reached solid ground. The men are only doing their job, and are not enemy soldiers but civilians. I don't want to harm them. If they can jump out of the loco they'll at least have a chance of survival."

Unknown to the colonel, Klink smiled for a few seconds; blue eyes bright. There it was again – one of the reasons why he had decided that Hogan was an Underground-agent he could support: The American was a good man, who only killed in self-defense or if there was no other option. And even then he tried to keep the number of victims as low as possible – just like now.

"Then I'll build two bombs with timers," Carter shrugged. "No problem, sir. But they have to be firmly fixed and the timer has to be correctly activated, otherwise it goes 'boom' the moment the railway shivers because of the train."

"We've done it before. The last times your 'babies' worked perfectly. Just make two new ones, and everything will be all right," Hogan ordered.

"No problem, boy… Ungh, I mean Colonel."

"Is there a bridge at all we could use?" Newkirk asked and looked questioningly at Kinch, who sighed,

"No real bridges, rather small overpasses. But the Underground told me that after Poppenhausen and the next three villages the railway runs parallel to a road. There is nothing there other than woods and said road. If the train tumbles over there, no citizens will be endangered."

"Perfect," Hogan smiled. "So the men on the loco have the chance to jump to safety, and no other civilians are at stake. And when we blast up the railway on a longer route, maybe with an explosion strong enough to damage the road, too, the Krauts will not be able to rebuild it this quickly." He realized the nick-name he used and smiled sheepishly at Klink. "Sorry!"

"It's all right – Steak."

Hogan stared at him with large eyes – and burst out laughing. A full rich sound that made Klink's heart beat faster. The three Heroes looked first at Klink and then at Hogan with bright question-marks on their faces. What the heck…

"Serves me right," the colonel snickered. "We had already discussed this topic."

"And don't forget it," the Oberst nodded, but there was an amused smile on his face and a certain gleam in his eyes. He had caught Hogan by surprise – again! – and it was sheer fun.

Newkirk, Kinch and Carter looked at each other. Obviously, this was a private joke between the two officers – and they would pester Hogan until he would tell them about it. But just right now they had the next problem to discuss, and it was Carter who came up with the topic.

"Any idea concerning our alibis?"

Hogan took a deep breath; turning serious again. "I only know that we have to have a good one," he murmured. "But I think I've an idea what kind of alibi could be presented to the Gestapo if they show up here." He looked at Kinchloe. "How about some rehearsals for a new theater show? And a dozen guards or so to witness it?"

"Your men are very well known, Hogan," Klink added for consideration. "My guards would recognize the absence of any man belonging to your team."

"He has a point," a voice with a French accent commented. LeBeau lent against the door-frame – arms crossed, wearing his apron and cooking-hat.

"But there may be another way," Klink continued. "While I'm distracting the guards with a speech, you can slip past the wires – just like you do on a regular basis." He gave them a pointed glance. "And concerning the sabotage itself: If the explosion takes place during a roll call, every one of us could make an oath that you all were here in the camp when the detonation happened."

"We've done the latter before," Hogan admitted.

"I'm aware of it," Klink deadpanned; giving his American counterpart a short glare.

Hogan chuckled for a moment, before he said, "But there is a problem; one of the trains really has to bypass the set-up detonation while we're having an official roll call here – hence it has to do so in the morning or evening. And if the trains' schedule doesn't allow it, we've no alibi at all."

Klink cocked his head. "I could order roll calls out of line – to supposedly restore discipline within the camp, since it has become lax. If you tell me when you have to leave the camp to prepare everything, I'll avoid these hours and make roll calls before and afterwards. Maybe it'd be even better if I order them within the next days before everything happens so that none of the brass gets suspicious about why I'm all of a sudden making unscheduled roll calls out of time while a sabotage is taking place. That would be a few coincidences too many."

Newkirk stared wide-eyed at him. Was Klink really plotting schemes here and even offering them support like this? He was baffled. Carter, LeBeau and Kinchloe smiled at each other – who had ever thought that their Kommandant would suggest help like this.

And Hogan?

His eyes shone with warmth as he looked at the older man. "That you're a good strategist became clear to me during our games of chess. But I never took you for someone who can scheme like this."

"We've both realized that there are a lot of things we still don't know about each other," Klink replied mildly.

Hogan chuckled and nodded, before he returned to the topic. "So, the frame of the plot stands. We only need the details like the train-schedules – and a chart of this area so that we can plan the set-off of the bombs."

"The Underground's still working on it," Kinch said. "After our short talk this morning I contacted them again, but they say they'll need some time to get this information."

Hogan grimaced. "Yet every day that goes by without us taking action is a day more the Messerschmitts can be build – and Burkhalter may be getting more suspicious because Papa Bear isn't sending his own greeting cards." He glanced at Klink. "Can you find something out?"

The Kommandant slowly wagged his head. "I could provide you with a chart, but I've no chance of learning the trains' timetables. They are chartered trains and travel outside any schedule. And if I ask Burkhalter about it, he'll get the right idea about us all after the successful sabotage, at the latest – last but not least because the assault is done near Stalag 13."

Hogan frowned. "You are right. Well, then our contacts have to find out how long the train needs from Würzburg to the place we want to use, so that we can use a set-up timer for the detonator." He looked at Kinch. "Keep me updated."

"Who do you take us for, Gov'nor?" Newkirk said. "Of course we'll keep you updated. Oh, apropos: Care to explain what is it about 'Krauts' and 'steak'?"

Hogan saw the pure curiosity in his friends' eyes, smirked devilishly and said with the most sugar-coated voice, "No."

Four baffled faces stared at him, and with mirth sparkling in his gaze he glanced at Klink, who chuckled, before he answered, "You call us Germans 'Krauts', because we love this vegetable. And as a little pay-back I thought I could call the Americans 'Steaks' – because that is one of your favorite foods." He looked at LeBeau. "What do you think, Fromage?"

LeBeau glared at him, then the joke of being called 'cheese' in French hit home and he began snickering. "What an idea! What about you, Mint-Sauce?" he grinned while clapping Newkirk strongly on the shoulder.

"Do you have a death-wish?" Peter growled, but the edges of his mouth trembled with suppressed laughter.

"Well, as long as no-one calls me 'Burger'," Carter threw in.

"You are already called 'Chatterbox', Andrew, so there's no need to give you another nick-name."

"Chatterbox?" Andrew asked indignantly; pushing both hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Couldn't you call me 'Detonation-Andy' or something like that?"

"I prefer 'Chatterbox', too," Kinch said – and in the next moment an anything but serious discussion began.

Hogan watched how his men instantly began giving each other different nick-names which all referenced one food or another. Looking at Klink, he saw the amused but also satisfied expression on the older man's face. As it seemed, the Heroes had begun accepting him.

*** HH ***

Klink ended today's work later than usual, and showed up at his quarters with Kinchloe in tow. Hogan sat at the table, clad in the newly-sewed housecoat, and put away a book he had borrowed from the shelf in the guest-room. The Oberst couldn't deny that he was pleased that Hogan had waited for him instead of dining alone, but for the moment dinner would have to wait.

Walking very slowly, the American sat down on the sofa, and even if some of his movements were still uncertain and heavy, it was obvious that he was slowly beginning to do better.

"So, what's up?" he asked, while Kinchloe took the offered seat on the arm-chair. Klink himself sat down beside Hogan; unusually tense.

For a few seconds the Kommandant didn't answer, before he quietly replied, "I have something for you." He rose, walked to the hall stand and pulled something out of his coat, which he had hung up there. Returning to the sofa, he wordlessly offered Hogan the folded sheet of paper he'd just fetched.

Curious, the colonel unfolded it and gasped. It was a travel chart of North Bavaria. "Is this…" he began and Klink sighed deeply, while sitting down again.

"Yes, this is a chart of our area here – including all streets, field paths and railways." He pointed at a spot on the chart. "Here is the spot your contact suggested. There are only a few long curves so the train can travel with full speed."

"Full speed…," Hogan murmured. "It will increase the damage, but what about the men on the loco?"

"With some luck the loco will remain on the rails – otherwise the guys have to be very quick," Kinch said. "And one more thing, Colonel. The Underground found out that there is only one train every three days – the next time will be the day after tomorrow. And, as it seems, afterwards they'll send trains only when enough new wings have been produced near Heilbronn."

Hogan shortly pursed his lips. "Then we have to act the day after tomorrow. And it doesn't give us much time to prepare everything, but we'll manage." He thought about everything for a minute, and even Klink didn't say anything until Hogan opened his mouth again.

"We've to check the area by ourselves to apprise the situation there. Only then we can go into details." He cocked his head. "You said the place is twenty kilometers from here?" he addressed Klink, who nodded slowly.

"Yes."

"Okay. Kinch, contact the Underground again. Newkirk and Carter shall meet with them tonight and check the place."

"Okay, Colonel," Kinchloe nodded and rose. "I'll inform you when the guys are back."

"Thanks," Hogan replied and looked up at his friend. "Please tell them to be careful. I hate that I can't come with them, but I would hardly make it down into the tunnel, not to speak of climbing out of it or running around in the night."

James chuckled quietly. "Colonel, please don't worry your head off. Peter and Andrew are no beginners. They'll make it." He looked at Klink. "If it doesn't disturb you, sir, I'll call your quarters when the boys are back."

Klink stared at him. "You'll call my quarters!?" He snorted – half irritated, half amused. "And there I thought I was joking when I asked you since when the POWs of this camp have official call-boxes."

"We have one – only very well-hidden," Kinch smiled, while he folded the chart and put it in the inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you for this little helper, Kommandant."

"It comes from my office," the Oberst answered in a pressed voice. "Give it back as soon as you don't need it anymore. If anyone realizes that it is gone or finds it on you, we're all done for."

"Don't worry, sir, it's safe with me – and I'll return it to you ASAP." He nodded at the two officers. "Until later, Kommandant – Colonel." He left the quarters. And despite everything he had learned within the last days, he was more than curious whether Klink had told the truth or if he had sold them a cock and bull story. If he had said the truth, it was the big proof that he was indeed their ally. If not… Well, he didn't want to think about it.

For a long moment neither Klink nor Hogan moved. Then the American carefully crossed his arms in front of his chest, pursed his almost healed lips and looked at his German counterpart. "You do realize that you have now switched from someone who covers for us to an active supporter?"

Klink smiled tiredly and sadly. "Yes, from now on I can be called a high traitor. My father would certainly be turning in his grave if he knew about it. Then, on the other hand, I don't think that he would have accepted what has become of our country and would have acted likewise." He sighed. "I know that I'm doing the right thing, yet I feel… shitty." He turned his head and looked at Hogan with large eyes. "Does this make any sense?"

The colonel reached out and laid a hand on the older man's shoulder; squeezing it gently. "It makes sense," he answered softly. "And it shows that you're indeed a good man, because only a man without honor and morals would make such a step without his conscience plaguing him."

He watched how the older man lowered his head, and let his hand rest on the Oberst's shoulder. He knew what was going on his Klink's mind and felt a wave of deep sympathy. "You don't have to do this, you know. If you continue to cover for us, it would be more than enough."

Looking really miserable for a moment, the Kommandant only glanced with something close to helplessness at him – like a child that began to realize that they had done something very, very bad. Then he took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "The time of grace is over. I've two options: To really support you and try to end this madness, or to look away like the coward I turned into during the last years. And knowing that every bit of help counts now with the war reaching its peak, just guess what I chose."

He sighed again and looked away – lost in thought. Hogan cocked his head.

"What is it, Will?" he asked quietly; sensing that something had to be terribly off.

Klink took a deep breath. "Burkhalter called to tell me that Hochstetter has been seriously questioned. Of course the poison-gnome spoke mainly of his suspicions concerning you and me, but obviously the brass doesn't believe him."

Hogan smiled. "That's good, isn't it?"

"Ja," the Oberst nodded, "but this was not all. Burkhalter was… nervous and shaken. And he obviously needed a valve to let off some steam and I was in the line to listen." He shortly bit his lips, before he began,

"A few days ago the Red Army reached our frontier in the north-east, and they and our soldiers are battling for every meter – and there seems to be no end of Russian reinforcements. Hundreds of people want to flee to the west, which is absolutely understandable and maybe increases their chance of saving a few belongings, and, of course, their lives. But, what I simply can't get into my mind is the fact that our own regime has made any kind of flight-attempt a punishable offense. 'A German doesn't just flee from a filthy scallywag, barking like a dog, with a red star on his sleeve.' Goebbels's words, not mine. Burkhalter was repulsed, even if he didn't dare mention it, but I know his voice well enough to hear his incomprehension of this point of view." Klink shook his head. "We stand no chance against the Russians there and we both know what this means for the civilians."

"The Russians are not known for being mild," Hogan nodded slowly, and the older man snorted in bitterness.

"You can say this. Burkhalter got the first reports from Poland. The Red Army has reached Warschau (Warsaw) and is about to overrun it; other parts of Poland have already been conquered. And the same is going to happen to East-Prussia. The young men and mere boys sent there to defend our borders are no match for the well-trained and experienced Russians. And instead of evacuating the civilians, Koch, this mad bastard, threatens them with the death penalty if they try to leave." He moaned quietly. "And I think what is going on in the north-east is only the beginning. The civilians, all those women, children and any men left are paying the price for Hitler's insanity."

Hogan said nothing for a short time. This was the darkest side of a war that was about to reach its peak or end – or both. He knew that there was a lot of burning hate raging through the soldiers on all sides – on the winners' and the losers' both. He also knew that, despite orders, many soldiers didn't hold back but lived out the fear, wrath and suffering they had endured during the battles. There was no doubt about what would happen to a great part of the civilians in Germany, especially along the country's borders. But that their own regime forbid those people to flee was… inhuman. He was almost unable to grasp this insane decree and that there were indeed men who obeyed it.

"Who is this Koch?" he asked.

"Erich Koch, the Gauleiter of East-Prussia – something like a governor in the US-states. He comes from the Rhine-area and was ordered to annex the Polish areas around East-Prussia, which he did. As far as I know, more than the half of the people who lived in those areas have been deported." Klink shuddered and looked away; deeply ashamed.

"It's not your fault, Will," Hogan said softly. "You didn't give these orders or force those people to stay where they are. You're not responsible for what happened in Germany."

"No, but I – just like so many of us officers – strengthened Hitler by staying quiet. This is another reason why I'll be actively supporting the Allies now. There is a lot I have to make up for – not for my deeds, but for the things I didn't do."

He rose, stepped to the dresser and poured Hogan and himself a glass of cognac. After putting the colonel's glass on the table, he drank his own drink down without a second thought. Glancing at nothing again he murmured, "Just look at what has become of you, Wilhelm Klink: First a coward and now a traitor."

Hogan, who hadn't touched his drink, rose and closed the short distance to the older man with limping movements. "Will," he began, tentatively, "I know that you must be feeling like shit at the moment. But just like you said earlier: It's the right thing to do. You mentioned all those enslaved people who are forced to work for the Nazis; dying in the process by the dozens. People who mostly haven't done anything wrong - except for being born in another country or having a foreign heritage. You mentioned your Jewish fellow citizens, and that they were all kidnapped and brought to camps. Not only you, but I have also heard rumors about those camps – that they are nothing more than execution stations. And now the Nazis even forbid their own people from fleeing; not caring that these orders will cost hundreds – thousands – of lives. You said that this isn't the Germany you were born in – that this here is a sinister, twisted parody of your country. Stopping this insanity isn't betrayal, therefore you are no traitor. I even dare say that you're exactly the opposite."

Klink, who had listened wordlessly and without any emotion on his face, took a shuddering breath. "How so?" he asked tonelessly, without looking at Hogan.

"You said that you swore to protect your country as you graduated the Academy – and you are still doing so. A country is more than the landscape, the government and even the people. Fatherland also means the values – the inner, ethical and moral ones. It means the beliefs and the spirit of the people, the freedom to build their own opinion and to stand for it without being in danger. It means solidarity, cohesion, the willingness to help each other and to go on no matter what. It means the roots of the past and the branches of the future. It means the culture, like traditions, music and art in general. This all builds the soul of a country that can only be called a real 'Fatherland' if the people are free to live their lives in peace and to their liking without any fear. And this is exactly what you're fighting for in your own way. It isn't you who broke his oath. It was them – those who swore to keep the best interest of your country as their highest priority, but abused their position for their own advantage and to quench their greed for power. You already said it a few days ago, and I have to agree wholeheartedly: They are the traitors, not you."

Klink had turned his head and looked straight at his American counterpart. He was pale, his eyes were dull and he looked utterly unhappy, yet his posture was straight. "Yes, I know that I said all those things after I revealed my guesses and knowledge to you. And I still stand by them. But talking of something and actually doing it are two different shoes. Tell me, Robert, if the roles were reversed, and fate demanded from you to go against your country – against the United States. Would you do it?"

Hogan took a deep breath; knowing that his answer would be very important for the shaken man in front of him, who was obviously shocked that he had dared to make the jump from the cliff he had stood on for so long.

"I have to admit that I can't imagine that something like what happened here in Germany would happen to the States," the colonel replied. "And you can't compare Germany with the US. We've had a democracy without royalty for two hundred years, while your emperor resigned only twenty years ago. Yes, in 1939 there was a kind of Nazi-party in the US – the German American Volksbund – that began to infiltrate the States. Hell, they even had a big party conference in Madison Square Garden, but the whole thing was stopped before it could go too far. Our whole society differs a lot from the original traditional countries in Europe. But should there ever come a time in which an insane dictator rules the States and is about to doom the whole world, I would fight for what I was taught is right – for what we fought two hundred years ago despite terrifying sacrifices and losses."

Klink cocked his head. "You speak of the War of Independence."

"Yes," Hogan nodded. "It was bloody, unspeakably cruel and horrifying, but we didn't give up. They destroyed the villages, locked the citizen into churches and burnt them down, murdered countless farmers, including the children – but we didn't give into the tyranny and the dread. Standing up for a better world, free of fear and despair, comes with a price but in the end we all win so much more. And if fate would decide that this dark time repeats itself, I would do what the first Americans did: Fight for the country we love, even against our own regime if it brings harm and hurt over our people."

For a very long moment Klink glanced aside; collecting his thoughts. Then he lifted a hand and touched Hogan's cheek for the length of a breath. "You're an irredeemable optimist and starry-eyed idealist, Rob, and maybe this is the whole strength of you Americans – and the reason why you will win the war." He let his hand sink and sighed. "And you know what? Your streak to see light even in the darkness and your willingness to fight for what you think is right inspires not only your men, but also everyone else around you – at least those who are willing to listen and see reason. And it gives comfort to those who think that everything is lost." His eyes were still sad, but they were also gentle. "I admire you for this."

The spot Klink had touched tingled like a thousand little flies and sent a warm shiver through Hogan's inner being. And seeing his German counterpart so oddly lost, so shocked about his own courage, almost pained him. Without thinking straight, he pulled the other man into an embrace; hoping to comfort him.

For seconds the Oberst went stiff. This couldn't be happening! This was a dream from which he would wake up any moment to be left once again cold and lonely! Then he gave in and all but melted into the arms of the man he loved. It felt so good; so incredibly good to be held by the only being in the whole world who gave his now even more miserable existence a spark of life. He knew that Hogan was right about everything he'd said, but going against his sense of duty, giving up loyalty – even towards those madmen in charge – and double-crossing everything he had been taught a good soldier should do or not, had pushed him to his limits.

It was really a big difference between speaking about something and believing in it, and actually acting on it. The whole extent of what he had done crashed down on him. He had given sensitive information to the United Allies. And maybe this was only the beginning. With the new Messerschmitt at the brink of going into serial production, a fact that could turn the wheel of war, he knew that it was perhaps up to him to help the Allies even more. There was a chance that his active support of the Allies would cost the lives of many comrades. He knew that there weren't many well-trained men left. Mere boys and old men were who was conscripted now; forced to fight a lost war. Many of them would certainly die – at the Front or in the Allies' upcoming ambush. He felt dizzy because of it. And even the knowledge that their death would prevent even more people from being killed didn't comfort him.

But there was no going back now – he had made his decision and had passed the point of no return. From now on he couldn't hide behind lies, excuses and silly behavior. From now on he was someone who really fought against the regime. On the one hand it filled him with relief to have finally found the courage to go against the insanity that tore his country apart and costed thousands of lives day by day. On the other hand he knew that his deeds would mean the death of many other soldiers. He would be called a traitor now; someone who couldn't be trusted and had forfeited his right to live; others might be grateful for what he'd do from now on, and would thank him. Yet the real outcome would be written later, in the history books.

Sighing, he forced his mind away from these troubling thoughts, and realized again that Robert was embracing him. He relished for a moment in the still weak, yet usually so strong arms holding him with gentleness unknown to him. He could feel the warmth of Hogan's body, chasing away the cold demons haunting him. There was Robert's breath on his neck just above the stiff collar and the other man's heart that beat against his own in a calming, lulling rhythm. For a small eternity that ended far too soon he was one with the love of his life – closer to him than ever before; secure, safe and comforted.

Then he felt Hogan's arms slipping away, and in a desperate attempt to extend the moment he wrapped his own arms around the other man's waist, while he buried his face at the American's throat, hence losing his pride – and his monocle.

Hogan's hesitation did not last longer than the time an eye needed to bat, then he closed his arms around the taller man again and pulled him gently against him; knowing that 'Willie' needed an anchor just right now, like he, Hogan, had too often needed within the last days. And he couldn't deny that holding the other man like this felt so good.

They were both hungry for comfort, for peace – for each other's proximity. And even if Hogan still denied the latter, a part of his soul enjoyed the warm contact, while his mind excused everything citing his urge to help Klink with getting over his inner turmoil.

The dinner was forgotten for many minutes more.

TBC…

So, besides the fluff and some fun inside of the chapter, the dark side of these times can't be forgotten – and it doesn't stop at the gates of Stalag 13. Of course several gravely occurrences will reach the men within the camp, too – mostly by hearing about them, but in the later chapters some of those circumstances will catch up with the men, independent of uniform and nationality.

But first our Heroes are up to the next mission – with Hogan being forced to stay behind and to do nothing else than waiting. And this for a man of action. A hard thing that will cost him more nerves as if he could be an active part of it (poor colonel, *snicker*). And, besides, those haunting dreams and his woken yet still denied desire for his German counterpart rankles with him even more.

The geographic which are mentioned in this and the following chapters, is true. Hammelburg is near Bad Kissingen, a spa that is also famous for its special wine (like it is cultivated in the whole Rhön-area) and there are several smaller villages close by, as well as two railways, of which one is the old speed-line for the Berlin-Express. The connections between Stuttgart, Heilbronn (in the south-west of Germany) to Schweinfurt (near Nürnberg) and then heading to the north-east via Hammelburg or Poppenhausen, are still functional these days, and were only interrupted by the former border to the DDR, because Thüringen belonged to the separated east-part of our country until 30 years ago. So, if you want to do some google-research you really can find imagines of the area, Papa Bear is active (*smile*).

In the next chapter Klink takes a real active part in Hogan's newest mission, and the whole deed will alert Berlin to an extend that will bring a lot of turmoil to Stalag 13. Some real historical figures have a short appearance (without being really in the story, mind you), and Klink realizes that he had stepped on a very dangerous path as he decided to support Hogan's task more than 'only' looking away.

I hope you liked the new chapter, including Hogan's discussion with himself, the joking and Robert comforting his German counterpart what heightened the temptation 'Willie' has become for him by now. And, like always, I'm curious what you think about it.

The next chapter will be posted at the end of the next week.

Have a nice rest of Sunday,

Love

Yours Starflight