Hi, my dear readers,
This is finally the edited version of chapter 30 (thank you for your patience).
Our two colonels make some more 'tiny steps' towards each other – especially Hogan shows some more trust in his German counterpart by revealing more secrets to him.
And then the Heroes and the two colonels have to make a lot of preparations, because the Gestapo investigates the last deed of 'Papa Bear' – and the guys in the long leather cloaks are not alone.
So, have fun,
Thank you so much for the feedback for the last chapter; you're all the best,
Yours Starflight
Chapter 30 – Preparations
As Klink reached his quarters, he didn't see the last movements of the furnace in his living room, while it was being shoved to its original spot from below, or the dirt near the stove. All he recognized was the warmth of the rooms, the golden light that fell through the open door to his sleeping room and the table, already set up for dinner. Yet, just right now he was anything but hungry.
"Hogan?" he called while he was opening his coat and storming through the living room.
"Here," came the reply.
Klink stepped into his sleeping chamber – still deathly pale, shivering and with his stomach churning. His gaze found the younger man sitting between the cushions and beneath the comforter – a book in his lap, a soft smile around his lips, brown eyes warm but also curious. And all of a sudden Klink could breathe again, the coldness in his bones beginning to melt. He felt homely and safe – and this was owed to the other man's presence.
Hogan cocked his head, observing the Oberst, who seemed to be deeply shaken. "Has something happened?" he asked and realized with rising concern that the older man didn't react, but simply stood there, trembling. Pulling away the blankets, Hogan carefully swung his legs over the bed's edge; ready to rise. "Are you all right, Will?"
The Kommandant seemed to falter into himself for a moment, before he sighed heavily, closed the distance to the bed with uneasy movements and sat down beside Hogan. Now indeed worried, the colonel laid a hand on the other officer's underarm. "Will, what is it?" he asked quietly. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Regrettably he isn't a ghost, but still very, very much alive," came the soft reply. Klink gulped, took another deep breath and looked at Hogan. "I just received a call from Berlin – from Burkhalter. The result of your mission reached Berlin shortly after the explosion, and it has elicited a large outcry."
Hogan smirked. "Well, that was the whole reason, wasn't it? A greeting from Papa Bear but with…"
"Robert, Burkhalter wasn't alone. Goering and Himmler were with him – but, above all, I had to answer a few of Hitler's questions, who was there as well. He was there, just in front of Burkhalter while I was talking with the fat Sacher-cake." He shuddered and lowered his gaze.
The colonel's eyes widened. "The 'Moustache' asked you questions in person?" He whistled. "This I'm calling…"
"You misunderstand. I only talked to Burkhalter, but hearing his voice in the background, asking questions I had to answer through Burkhalter, was… terrifying." He swallowed. "I know, it sounds silly, but… But to know that a furious Führer in person demands answers from you, even over a line, scares the hell out of you. Himmler also asked questions." He lifted his cap and held it tightly in both trembling hands. "Himmler got the records from Hochstetter's questioning, and he, Goering and the Führer thought that the poison-gnome has some points when he suspects you of being Papa Bear – especially after today's assault that, once again, took place near my camp. Burkhalter wanted to know about your current condition, and only after I swore to him that you're still barely able to walk, and that all your men were here during a roll-call that took place during the sabotage, he stated that you cannot be Papa Bear."
Hogan shortly pursed his lips, before he grinned, "So, the little private knows my name now. Well, serves him right. I really hope he learns some day before his demise that said POW had thrown so many stones in his way that his 'glorious war' went down the hill."
Klink groaned, "Hoooogan, this is not funny! By the way, he already knew your name – after all, he met you almost a year ago, if you could kindly recall. I introduced you to him. Hell, you two even talked for two or three minutes or so, and afterwards he was in such a foul mood that even Burkhalter didn't dare come near him and rather drove away." He snorted. "At least he liked the camp, yet I'm absolutely certain that he doesn't remember me. And this after I was personally introduced to him six years ago and we met again last year, so you really could assume… Hogan?" Klink interrupted his tirade as he became aware of Hogan's contrite expression.
The colonel cleared his throat, bit his lips, carefully rubbed his still sore neck and took a deep breath. "Ung, Will, I don't know how to say this, but…" He looked at the older man. "Hitler has never been here."
Klink's eyes widened enough to let his monocle slip, which he caught with the grace of practice without even looking. "What?"
Hogan shortly chuckled, before he sent his German counterpart an apologetic glance. "Hitler was never in Stalag 13. This guy was… an imitation."
Silence.
Utterly stunned silence.
Klink gaped at him with disbelief. "He… he was shorter than I remembered him, and today he has gained some weight, but… Hogan, it was him! It was his voice, his rrrrrolling dialect, his clipped movements. Who else could it have been?"
For once Hogan showed some guilt, because he knew how much 'Hitler's' visit had stirred up the Kommandant. "It was Carter," he admitted.
Klink's jaw almost hit the floor, before he more or less squeaked, "WHAT?"
Shrugging one shoulder, Hogan grinned, "We needed to smuggle a film out of the camp and arranged for 'Hitler' to come and drive away with it." He turned serious again. "Carter had watched some broadcasts of the 'Wochenshow' (German news-show) and was entertaining us, parading as Hitler. That gave me the idea to use his talent. Yet he overdid it a little bit. He was carried away in his role, otherwise he would have already left the camp before Burkhalter arrived. Thank the Lord, Andrew can be a quick thinker sometimes, and began his grousing about 'fat generals' – the reason why Burkhalter sought refuge in flight."
Klink blinked at him like an owl, before he let his chin touch his sternum. "Oh. My. God!" he gasped; aghast. He placed his monocle back in front of his left eye, rose, walked two steps to the door, turned around, walked to the dresser, threw his cap on it, paced again and finally leant against the wardrobe. "D-d-d-do you realize what could happen if Burkhalter ever mentions this event to Hitler? He'll learn that…"
"Burkhalter would be stupid to speak about it – and he is anything but. He would have to admit that, firstly, he took flight rather than give the proper greeting to his beloved leader, and secondly, afterwards, if he learns that Hitler wasn't here for real, he would have to admit that he didn't even recognize that it was an imposter, which would be a big offense against the 'Moustache'. After all, both men have been working with each other for years now, and then Burkhalter couldn't detect that the visitor was smaller than his boss?"
"But Burkhalter doesn't even know that it was an imposter – that the whole thing was a fake. So he could mention it and…"
"And admit that he was too afraid to give the tiny private the proper greeting?" Hogan shook his head. "Don't fret, Will, if Burkhalter hasn't mentioned the whole thing until now, he won't do it in the future. The war is about to be lost and I think I know how your Führer ticks. He will absolve himself of all responsibility by shifting the whole fault to his generals. It would be suicidal if Burkhalter drew too much attention to his person, and, above all, indicating to the testy Austrian that one of his generals didn't even recognize an imposter would certainly irritate him."
Klink returned to the bed and all but fell on its edge. Bowing his head, he cradled it in his hands while he looked unhappily into nothing. "The guards saw him, Schultz saw him, those guys who accompanied him saw him and…" He hesitated and sat up straight again. "And who were those three 'officers'?" he demanded.
"Why, other POWs of course," Hogan smirked.
Throwing both hands up, the Kommandant let off a stream of curses, before he glared at the younger man; pointing an accusing finger at him. "You… you… You! You don't shy away from anything, do you? This particular play with fire could have turned into an inferno," he snapped.
"But everything went well," Hogan smiled. "So calm down. Hitler was never here and therefore he can't remember you."
"I had a phone conversation with him in the hours before D-Day happened and…" Klink stopped himself as he saw the sheepish smile the colonel flashed him. "Don't tell me that this was Carter, too!"
"No, it was Kinchloe. He's our best voice-imitator, you know," Hogan admitted.
"You… you are able to piggyback into my line, aren't you? How many times did I think I was talking with some members of the brass in Berlin, but it was, in truth, your men?"
The American chuckled with a hue of shame on his face. "I haven't counted," he answered with a hint of rue in his voice.
Klink silently glared at him, and Hogan sighed, "Wilhelm, neither my men nor I had the tiniest idea that you've been on our side almost the whole time. Like I said: Yes, I knew that you are no Nazi, but you were an enemy officer for us – and my mission is to weaken the German war machinery. For this I had to come up with a lot of schemes, to help the Underground and smuggle people and information to London. You can't do this by playing by the rules or sitting back and waiting for a good opportunity. Yes, sometimes chances are given, but most of the time you have to create those chances – means, you have to create the reality you need. Believe me, you weren't the only one we tricked with faked telephone calls. Burkhalter and even Hochstetter were more than often the 'victims'."
For a very long moment the older man simply looked at him, then he groaned, braced one elbow on his thigh and laid his jaw on his hand; giving the impression of a frustrated bundle of nerves.
"And there I thought that I had been, for once, acknowledged by the brass in Berlin."
"Well, given the whole situation concerning the war and the upcoming investigation, it may be a good thing that you haven't been acknowledged by the 'Moustache', don't you agree?"
Scowling, Klink snorted. "I was introduced to him in 1939. I was one of the test-pilots of the brand-new Heinkel HE-111 E, like I already told you, and he shook everyone's hand, wishing us luck and success." He took a deep breath. "At that time I was proud of it."
Hogan nodded slowly. "Yes, I do understand that you were proud to meet the first man of Germany in person. Hell, I don't think there is one of our boys out at sea, on land or in the air who doesn't want to shake President Roosevelt's hand. It's normal to feel honored if the highest man of a country stands in front of you and greets you in person."
"Ja," Klink admitted. "But today I see it in a completely different light."
"Of course you do," Hogan smiled; placing one hand on the Oberst's shoulder. "By now you are aware of Hitler's insanity – and of where his madness has led the entirety of Europe and a large further part of the world. No-one could have known about all this in the beginning. And luckily, there are enough people left who don't close their eyes and are trying to stop him. They are the hope for a better future." He cocked his head and gently changed the topic. "So, you flew one of the very first HE-111 E? My compliments."
Klink chuckled shortly. "Yes, it was exciting – despite the fact that it was poorly armed for defense. Hitler never places any importance on his own men's safety. He always prefers attack, not defense – like it is clear to see now, because using the new Messerschmidt as a bomber is nuts."
"I agree – with all points. A leader who doesn't care for his people's welfare is a bad leader. I know that being a soldier is dangerous business, especially during times of war, yet none of our generals would turn a blind eye on additional danger for the 'boys' if it could be prevented." He sighed. "At least our little stunt with the railway delays the serial production of the ME-262. It saves a lot of lives."
The Oberst nodded slowly and grinned for a moment. "Ja, this is a good outcome. And the second good thing is that the brass in Berlin is convinced Papa Bear was behind the attack, but also think that it can't be you because of your lack of health."
"So, the mission was a full success," Hogan smirked.
Klink sighed again. "Yes and no. Burkhalter already told me that the Gestapo will start a big investigation within this area and I'm ordered to support them. Hitler himself gave me that order." He pinched his nose. "What shall I do now? Of course no-one will learn the truth from me, but when those black-clad or leather-clad guys show up, what shall I do?"
Hogan watched him closely; saw how those long elegant fingers shivered anew and heard the quickening breathing that revealed how much Klink was troubled. It was almost sad that the political leader of a country and his executives elicited such fear in his people.
Without hesitating a moment, Robert carefully wrapped his arm around the other man's shoulders. "We'll get through it, Will. Just support them like you're ordered, let them stroll through the camp and check everything. Give them the guards they want to have. Do everything to convince not only Burkhalter but also the brass in Berlin that you're supporting them with all you have. I'll tell my men to seal the entrances to the tunnels and there will be absolute radio silence within the next days. And I'll play the role of the lame duck to appear even more incapacitated than I really am. You'll see, we'll make it – just like we did many times before."
Hogan's confidence calmed Klink at least a little bit, yet he was still nervous, like rarely before. "Hitler expects me to solve the riddle together with the Gestapo – because I'm one of his 'high ranking officers within the area concerned'. I bet the bastard doesn't even know that Kommandanten of POW-camps have more or less tied hands." He shook his head. "I fought for my land during the first war with everything I had, while this guy ran errands, stayed away from the real front for most of the time, got the nickname 'White Raven' because he always considered himself better than his comrades and still dreamed of studying painting. And now he orders me to do a job he has built a whole unit for – an unit that has been terrorizing our country for years."
Hogan frowned. "Hitler… wanted to study painting?"
"Yeah. They didn't accept him at the Academy of Art in Vienna because of his lack of talent." He snorted. "I really wish they would have taken him in. What harm would have been done? The world would have had an untalented painter more, but how much suffering and pain we would have all been spared!" He grimaced and looked down on the cap in his hands. "And until now he denies it and excuses this failure with his 'true' intention of becoming a great architect, for which he wanted to 'intensify' his painting-talents, like I learned from an Austrian comrade who lived in the same house that Hitler did in Vienna. The result? Slave-workers are still getting bleeding fingers and die by the hundreds for his insane wishes."
"One little 'no' or 'yes' had such an impact on the whole world," Hogan sighed. "There is the proof again: The devil is in the details." He rose carefully.
"Where are you going?" Klink asked.
"I'll call my men and give them orders to prepare everything for the Gestapo. We've no clue when those guys will show up, and I want to have everything ready by then." He walked with slow steps into the living-room and the Oberst followed him. Lifting the receiver, Hogan pressed a small button on the back of the phone and waited.
He had to wait almost a minute, until finally the well-known voice of Newkirk sounded,
"Butchery Striegelmeier, good evening, how can I be at your service?"
Hogan recognized the secret code instantly, but there was no need to return it. Newkirk would know it was him immediately. "I would like a few steaks, some tartar and sausages, please."
For a second nothing was audible, then a small laugh was heard, "Don't we all want to have something like this?" Then he turned serious. "What's up, Colonel?"
Hogan sighed. "Please tell Kinch to come to Klink's quarters – oh, and he shall use the invisible way."
"Ol' Klink finally learned that his quarters are part of the tunnel-net?"
"Not yet, but I'll prepare him for it while you get Kinch. Oh, and please don't make yourself too comfortable. You and the others will have a lot to do until tomorrow morning."
"Something wrong, sir?" Newkirk asked; obviously tensing up and becoming serious.
"The little stunt with the railway called the highest ranking persons of Germany on the scene – including Hitler. There will be an investigation and we've to be prepared for it. Send over Kinch and then tell the others to get ready to make everything invisible."
"Blimey," the Englishman murmured. "I'm hurrying, Gov'nor. Until later!"
Hogan only nodded, even if Peter couldn't see him, hung up the phone and met Klink's perplexed gaze.
"Invisible way?" the Kommandant asked; confused.
The American sighed before he slowly answered, "Will, I know you've had a hard day – and that's because of us. And I'm more than grateful for all you went through. I don't want to burden you with more, but in this case we've to be prepared for everything." He took a deep breath. "I already told you that we've a few tunnels beneath the camp."
"From what I get, there are a lot of tunnels," Klink grumbled.
"Yeah, and one of them ends here," Hogan let the cat out of the bag.
"It ends…" The Oberst was unable to finish his sentence, but gaped with large eyes at the younger man – almost losing his monocle again in the process. "You… you dug a tunnel to my quarters?" he finally gasped. As the colonel only nodded, Klink's eyes became small. "Why!?" he all but demanded.
"We've only used it a few times, but we wanted to be able to reach you without being spied by the guards in case something bad happened. I'd had a few close-calls whenever I had to reach your quarters unofficially, so I decided to lower the risk by having a tunnel that ends here. By the way, like this we could also contact several visitors who weren't the persons they declared to be."
"Underground agents were my visitors?" The Kommandant snorted and crossed his arms in front of his chest; his anxiety because of the upcoming investigation forgotten for the moment. "I'm not certain I want details. But I really want to know one thing: How often have you been here while I lay in my bed, deeply asleep?"
"A few times – mostly to make certain that you're warned in time when trouble was about to come up, or when I wanted to make sure you're safe." Hogan closed the short distance to the older man. "Will, like I told you during our big talk a few days ago, I never would have allowed any harm to befall you – even when I didn't know about you being on our side." He placed a hand on Klink's shoulder. "I began to respect you as a honorable officer and a good man shortly after my arrival, and since then I always made certain that nothing bad would happen to you. And we certainly wouldn't have used the tunnel to endanger or threaten you. Never."
The Oberst sighed. "I know. We both have hearts too soft for this damn job, yet it retained our humanity." He grimaced before he snorted, "To think that you obviously dug a lot of tunnels, without me realizing it, is… unbelievable. It must have cost you not only a lot of effort but also time."
"Well, if we've one thing here, then it's time," the colonel shrugged; waving both hands in a very innocent gesture.
"And you couldn't think of a better way to use it than hollowing out my camp?" Klink asked wryly.
For a second the well-known boyish grin tugged at Hogan's mouth. "Nope," he said casually.
The same moment a scratching noise was heard and, to Klink's bafflement, the furnace began to move. "What the hell…" the Oberst whispered; shocked again. The furnace made room for a hole in the ground. In the light of the lamps the Kommandant could see the end of a ladder, from where a smiling Sergeant James Kinchloe climbed up until half of him peeked out of the tunnel entrance. "Good evening, Colonels," he greeted; trying to hide his amusement as he saw Klink's perplexed face.
"Thanks for coming so quickly, Kinch," Hogan replied and watched his closest friend climbing out of the hole, before the sergeant closed the entrance by moving the furnace back over it; hissing as he almost burnt his fingers. "Damn, this thing is hot." Then he saluted formally, before he couldn't help himself anymore and chuckled, "Kommandant, are you all right?"
Klink came out of his astonishment. "Of course I'm all right," he said sarcastically. "The Gestapo will search my camp and I have to lend them a helping hand in finding the saboteurs. I had to answer to Burkhalter, Himmler and Hitler and convince them that our Troublemaker here is still too ill to move one foot so he couldn't be Papa Bear. And now one of my POWs has crawled out of a tunnel that ends beneath my quarters. So, of course, everything is perfectly fine." He threw both his hands up.
Kinchloe laughed quietly, before he glanced at Hogan. "What's up, Colonel? Newkirk said something about the Gestapo – and Colonel Klink even mentioned Hitler?"
The two colonels sighed and Hogan began to explain the new situation to Kinch, ending with the order, "Seal all tunnel entrances, cut all links to the bugs and remove them. Give London a message that we've to keep radio-silence for a few days, and warn our contacts in Hammelburg. They shall hold the ball as low as possible."
"It costed us four days to put all installments back to work last time we had to remove them," James threw in for consideration. "And to seal all tunnels…"
"Kinch, I know it's a lot of work and making everything functional once again later is even more effort, but we cannot risk anything now," Hogan interrupted him softly. "Remove all bugs and wires to them. Also seal all entrances to the tunnels. If they examine the whole area, I don't want to take any risks."
Kinchloe grimaced. "Aye, sir!" He glanced at Klink. "It would be a big advantage if you could skip roll call this evening."
"We've had three today, I think that's enough," the Oberst murmured; sounding almost frustrated.
"Thanks," Kinchloe smiled, before he looked back at his superior and friend. "Do you want us to call you when we're done?"
Hogan shook his head. "No, thank you. I know that I can bank on you."
The sergeant nodded; pleased with the colonel's trust in him and the others. "Then: Good night, sirs!" he said, moved the furnace aside and climbed down the ladder. "Oh, Colonel Klink, when you hear some noises from here, don't worry. It's only us sealing the entrance." He grinned at the indignant German officer and vanished almost completely, before he pulled the furnace back over the hole; cursing as he burnt his hands again.
Klink made a face and glared at Hogan. "'Remove all bugs and the wires to them'? How many bugs are within my camp?"
"Uh," Hogan smiled sheepishly at him. "Let me count: Two in your office, two in…"
Klink lifted both hands. "That's already enough." He grimaced. "Do I really want to know how many more little surprises are hidden in Stalag 13?"
"No, I think not," Hogan smirked. "Sometimes even we have problems to remember all of them."
Klink shook his head; grumbling to himself while he stepped to the telephone. Lifting the receiver he waited a moment while the call divert he made from his office to Schultz's quarters connected. "Sergeant Schultz? It's me. Skip evening roll call. Three gatherings are more than enough for one day. And order the guards at the main entrance to call me instantly when the Gestapo guys and/or the SS appear. I expect them tomorrow in the morning at the latest." He listened a moment, before he replied, "There was an assault on one of the railways this afternoon – obviously these booms I took for thunder during the last roll call. Berlin wants to investigate the case, that's all." He listened again, rolled his eyes and grumbled, "I know, I know, the Gestapo means trouble. But there is absolutely nothing they could find to connect with our camp. Oh, by the way, if you hear some odd noises from below or think you see movement in the yard, just do as always and see and hear 'nothing', okay?" He frowned. "What? Ah yes, good night!" He hung up and turned around. "Satisfied?"
Hogan smiled at him – a true, real smile. "Yes, thank you, Will."
The Oberst only nodded, finally shrugged out of his coat and threw it over the backrest of an armchair. It told the colonel a lot. "You're done with work for today?"
"I think this day was turbulent enough – and I really have no spare nerves to fight with the damn paper-work." He sighed and looked hopefully at Hogan. "Chess?"
The younger man took the suggestion for what it was: A distraction and a chance to let out some tension. "With pleasure," he replied.
Klink smiled for once, before he scowled, "And during our play you can tell me how it came Carter is such a good imitator of the Führer, and how you were able to perform the whole event!"
*** HH ***
The night wasn't a restful one – neither for Klink, nor for Hogan. And certainly not for the Unsung Heroes and many other helping hands. One time in the night Klink woke up because of odd noises which seemed to come from below, but as he wanted to rise, a warm hand stopped him.
"Stay put, it's only my men doing their work," Hogan murmured; half asleep.
In the semi-darkness Klink glanced beside him at the younger man. "You Americans really have nerves of steel, don't you?"
"Someone must have them," Hogan answered and yawned, before he snuggled deeper into the blankets. "Just sleep, Will."
Klink snorted and closed his eyes again; trying to ignore the scratching and scraping from below. Then, a few minutes later, Hogan rolled closer to him and wrapped one arm around him; using him as a personal pillow again. And it made the Kommandant relax, even against his will. Snaking his free arm around the younger man, he relished in the comfortable proximity – and it didn't take long until he, too, fell asleep.
The morning came too early, like so often. Klink untangled himself from a still deeply asleep Hogan and rose. In the dim light, he looked down at the slumbering American and smiled despite the tension that already held him in an iron grip. He didn't know when exactly their sleeping-arrangement had turned into nightly snuggling – even if it was unaware from Hogan's side – but Klink relished in it. Feeling the one he loved pressed against him and being able to hold him in his arms was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
His glance wandered over Robert. The hair that peeked out from the bandage was tousled, his still bruised face was relaxed and there was even a small content smile on his lips, while he slept with childish innocence.
Unable to control himself, Klink bent down and cupped Hogan's cheek with one gentle hand for a few seconds, while he pressed a soft kiss on the bandaged forehead. God, what would he give to be allowed to do more! But these little stolen moments were the only opportunities for him to express what he felt – and it had to be enough.
Straightening his shape, he went to the bathroom and closed the door after one loving glance back.
An hour later he made a scheduled roll call and afterwards spoke with Kinchloe in his function as acting senior POW officer. It was still snowing, even if it was not snowing so hard anymore, but the wind was nasty. The other POWs hastened back into their barracks, and so the two men were undisturbed, which gave the Kommandant the chance to address the sergeant directly,
"Is everything ready?" he asked quietly, while Schultz had already gone to Klink's office to seek shelter against the bitter weather.
"Yes, sir. Everything is prepared. All tunnels are sealed, the bugs have been removed, like their wires, and everything that shouldn't be in a POW-barracks was brought down into the tunnels before the entrances were firmly locked and covered. The Gestapo can turn every stone, they will not find anything."
Klink nodded, "Good, good." He sighed. "I don't think it will come to a real examination of the camp, but better to be over-prepared than to regret laziness afterwards."
"You're correct, sir," Kinch affirmed and stifled a yawn.
Not without sympathy, the Oberst looked at him. "Long night?"
"You can say this. We were done with everything around four o'clock in the morning."
Klink took a deeper breath. "Return to your barracks and try to find some rest. There is no need to shovel snow before at least a pretense of daylight graces us."
"Thank you, sir."
"And tell the others that I'm grateful for their efforts – as Hogan will certainly be when he wakes up. Dismissed."
Kinchloe saluted and watched how the Kommandant stomped towards his office; his posture was once again bowed, but this could also be attributed to the wind. This, and the worry he certainly suffered because of the upcoming investigation.
"You really have no easy job at the moment," he murmured, then he walked towards Barracks 2 to drink some hot coffee before he would hit the mattress.
*** HH ***
It was almost ten o'clock when three black cars and one truck neared the gates. Half a minute later Klink was warned as the phone rang and one of the guards at the gates informed him about the arrival of three Gestapo-members, two SS-officers and a whole load of SS-guards.
'So, the brass is bringing the big guns now,' he thought with a short wave of fear, before he took a deep breath to calm his nerves and rose to his feet to greet the men. Fräulein Hilda led them into his office, and Klink faced three males in their middle-age, wearing long leather-coats. Two SS-guards and – to his dismay – Leutnant von Neuhaus, who glanced with piercing, cold eyes at him, accompanied the Gestapo-officers. But where was the second SS-officer the guard at the gates had reported?
"Gentlemen, welcome to Stalag 13. General Burkhalter had already informed me of your upcoming arrival," he greeted with a small smile of courtesy on his face.
"He did?" the man in the front asked slowly, and Klink nodded with a chuckle.
"Yes – in order of his personal friend Reichsführer Himmler. I assured the Reichsführer and the Führer in person that you've my full support."
At the mention of Himmler and Hitler, von Neuhaus stared, surprised, at Klink while the three Gestapo-men straightened their postures. "You… spoke with the Führer?" the obviously leading officer of the Gestapo asked; thunderstruck.
"Oh it wasn't the first time," Klink answered casually; lying through his teeth, while he gave his visitors an almost arrogant smirk. "We even met a few times. Yet I've interacted more with your highest superior, Herr…?"
"I apologize for the breach of politeness, Oberst Klink. I'm Kriminalrat (crime counselor) Johann Lübkemeier from Berlin," the man in front finally introduced himself, before he gestured to his two companions. "Commissioner Pönnighaus, my assistant, and Commissioner Leitner from Nürnberg. And you already know Leutnant von Neuhaus."
"We already had the displeasure," Klink said coolly, while eyeing the SS-man. He would have preferred that Schmidt had accompanied the Gestapo, but luck wasn't expected all the time.
Lübkemeier lifted a brow. "You've differences with the Leutnant?"
Klink didn't even spared the SS-officer a further gaze, while replying, "He has problems with obeying orders from higher-ranking officers in their own area of authority as soon as they wear another uniform than that of the SS, but I'm confident that he'll learn one day. He is still young." He gestured to the visitor chairs. "Please, Gentlemen, have a seat. Fräulein Hilda?" he called, and promptly the three Gestapo-men stopped in their movements to occupy the chairs and stood up again, as the young woman entered the room.
"Yes, Herr Kommandant?"
"Please bring some coffee for the gentlemen. I'm sure that they had a long and unpleasant night of travel given the nasty weather."
"This is not necessary," Lübkemeier tried to decline, but stopped himself as he took a closer look at Klink's secretary.
Hilda smiled at the men, whose faces began to become softer. It wasn't the first time that her appearance mitigated Klink's visitors, who were rarely good-willed towards the Kommandant. "It would be a pleasure to show the Gentlemen some hospitality," she said kindly, before she turned around, flashed von Neuhaus a beaming smile (for good measure) and vanished again. She had barely closed the door behind her, as she already grimaced. God, how much she loathed this theater she had to play!
Inside of the office, the three 'policemen' and von Neuhaus had sat down. Well, duty could wait a few moments if such a nice young woman was about to serve them some coffee. The latter had become rare by now, even for higher ranking persons within the Third Reich.
Klink, always eager to show how busy he was, folded his hands on the surface of his desk. "So, Gentlemen, how can I be at your service?"
*** HH ***
A few of the Luftwaffe-guards watched how the SS-men left the truck and began to spread through the camp; watching the POWs who had been shoveling snow for half an hour now. Other members of the SS shot the regular guards mocking looks. A lot of Klink's men gritted their teeth, but they knew that it would be foolish to voice any protest. The SS were no military in their eyes, yet this unit held the not so secret power within Germany. None of Klink's guards wanted to face the consequences of quarreling with the black-clad men again.
Therefore they mined their own business, yet a few of them still saw the lonely figure also clad in black that walked along the compound and vanished between the barracks.
"What the heck…" one of the guards murmured. "Is this guy sniffling around without Klink's knowledge?"
"I think it's the new CO of the Gestapo-HQ in Hammelburg," another guard answered. "I saw him come to the camp ten days ago, or so, and pay the Kommandant a social visit."
The first man shrugged. "As long as those guys stay out of my hair, they can do whatever they want."
*** HH ***
Horst Schmidt walked, determined, over the snow-covered ground between the wooden huts; ignoring his inferiors deployed at the barracks' doors and the dark gazes he received from the POWs. He kept up his pretense of making rounds to check out security, like he had told Lübkemeier and von Neuhaus after they arrived in Stalag 13. It was the best excuse he could come up with to explain why he didn't go to the Kommandantur first, but strolled through the camp's yard.
Suddenly his eyes caught a tiny figure, who shoveled snow just like some other men, in front of a building that was marked as 'Barracks 2'. Their uniforms gave them away as Americans, Englishmen and Dutchmen, but it was the small guy in the French clothes, including wine-red scarf and beret, who woke his interest.
For a long moment he watched the man. He had seen him before – and he remembered where and when: The morning Oberst Klink came to the Gestapo-HQ to get his senior POW officer out of Hochstetter's clutches. This small man was the same he, Schmidt, had seen in the street after the Oberst's departure. Yes, the guy wore different clothes now, but he was absolutely certain that it was one and the same man.
Von Neuhaus had groused the whole day after his return from Stalag 13 that a POW had escaped the camp and had alerted 'this idiotic, impertinent excuse of a German officer who is called the Kommandant of a Stalag'. The Leutnant had gotten an ear full from General Burkhalter, who had also made certain that there was an official rebuke in the Leutnant's file now, because said POW had fled while von Neuhaus was in charge.
And Schmidt knew now, who this POW – who ran to his jailer to get help for his own superior officer – had to be.
More curious than anything else, Schmidt headed towards the group and saw how the tiny man lifted his head. For a moment the POW's eyes widened in shock, then he eagerly shoveled the snow with even more effort than before. It told Schmidt everything!
Ignoring the dark glances which he received as he reached the group, he stepped in front of the POW in question, who seemed to turn into a pillar of salt.
"It's cold outside, isn't it? No wonder you'd prefer to return to a place where it is warmer," Horst said; referring to the current time as well as to the POW's obvious trip to Hammelburg.
LeBeau shortly pressed his lips into a thin line while looking up at the German. He had recognized the SS-officer the moment their eyes met over the distance, and it was obvious that the man remembered him, too. Louis cursed inwardly. Klink had made him leave the staff car before they reached the Gestapo-Headquarters to prevent exactly the case that now took place: The SS-officer had seen him there, and now here. This could only lead to a catastrophe!
A flood of French came over his lips while he glared defiantly up at the German; trying to stall for time.
Schmidt smiled and answered him in passable French, which made LeBeau gasp.
"You speak French?" he asked, flabbergasted; partly happy to hear his own language for once (as terrible as the German's accent was), but also highly alerted.
"Yes, I speak English, French, Spanish and some Italian," Schmidt answered; still in French. "And I could ask you why you didn't flee, when you had the chance eleven days ago, in every language." Then he switched back to English. "But let us speak in the tongue your comrades understand, too. So, why didn't you use the possibility to flee when you were in Hammelburg the morning Oberst Klink got your superior officer away from Major Hochstetter?"
Newkirk and Olsen, who were among the group, closed up to LeBeau; ready to defend him if it should become necessary.
LeBeau gulped. "I don't know what you're speaking of. I'm a POW here and…"
"General Burkhalter gave Leutnant von Neuhaus a lot of trouble because one of the POWs here escaped during his watch and informed Colonel Klink of Colonel Hogan's fate. And I saw you in the street only a minute after the Oberst left. So it has to be you who fled and went to the hospital. Obviously, Colonel Klink missed you – or forgot you. Given his worry for Hogan I think it's the latter. You had all chances to escape, maybe even back to your country. Yet you returned. Why?"
"I'm sure you mistake him with someone else, sir," Newkirk cut in.
"No, I'm more than certain that it was your friend here," Schmidt answered, not unkindly, before he returned his attention back to LeBeau. "So, why are you still here?"
LeBeau sighed, frustrated, and gave in. He knew when any denial was for naught. "I slipped out while this Leutnant was making a big fuss to drive Klink's secretary home. I went to Hammelburg where there was a curfew, hid in a nearby barn 'til morning to not get caught being out in the streets, ran to the hospital, alerted Klink and promised him not to flee while he got Colonel Hogan out. And I always keep my promises."
Schmidt pursed his lips. "Why didn't you accompany him?"
Louis threw his free hand up. "Because some of your men know me and Klink feared that they would get nervous fingers at their weapon's triggers. So he left me behind to pick me up later. As he didn't appear, I got more than worried that something went wrong and walked in the direction that Klink's staff car had taken. I saw him, Schultzie and mon colonel driving away, saw you – and headed back to the camp. On the road I was picked up by General Burkhalter." He shrugged. "Like I said: I always keep my promises."
Schmidt looked at him in awe. "Freedom was in your reach, yet you turned your back on it to keep a promise you gave an enemy officer. I… I just don't get it."
LeBeau put index and thumb together, while shaking the hand with its back down – a typical gesture of his if he wanted to drive a point home. "I'm a Frenchman, and French people always keep their promises. We do not say one thing and mean something else. We've honor."
This time Horst almost smiled. "I heard that much."
Sighing, Louis let his free hand fall beside him. "So, what now? Do I have to fear getting shot?"
Lifting both brows, Schmidt cocked his head. "What for? You escaped and returned. It's up to the camp's Kommandant how to punish you. And seeing as you're free, I think Oberst Klink re-paid your sincerity in the only possible way: He let the incident go this time." He lowered his voice. "I admire your loyalty towards your superior officer. You risked a lot, coming to town. And you returned because you gave your word to do so. I always respect men with honor – but don't make a habit of it. The Oberst's record of no escapes, about which I've heard so often since I arrived here, would be at stake."
Louis gaped at him, just like Newkirk and Olsen did. Smirking shortly at the POWs, Schmidt gave them a short nod of greeting. "Good day, Gentlemen."
He continued his way and vanished between the barracks – leaving a part of Hogan's gang and some other POWs speechless. He was deeply impressed with the amount of risk the American colonel's men were ready to take only to help Hogan. This man was held in high regard by his inferiors, yet for Schmidt there was another riddle that circled in his mind: How did it come that POWs sought out the aid of their jailer? How did it come that they trusted him the way they did? Klink seemed to be well respected if these men put their superior's life in his hands. Maybe there was more to all this than you could assume at first sight. The fact alone that Klink had offered his senior POW officer a place to heal within his own quarters spoke volumes.
And said quarters were Schmidt's destination.
Seeing that his own men were busy with securing the barracks, he sped up towards the separate building that held Klink's little flat. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he recognized that the Luftwaffe-members were talking, glaring at the SS or looking out into the woods, while the POWs were busy with freeing the compound of snow. Not wasting any more time, Schmidt closed the distance to the house, climbed up the stairs to the porch and stepped, a moment later, into the warm quarters.
Knowing where the sleeping chamber was from his last visit, he crossed the living-room and stopped at the door that led into the makeshift sick-room. His gaze found the American officer, who lay beneath some blankets and a comforter, and had his eyes closed. His face was still full of colorful but healing bruises, his head was still bandaged but at least his wrists, which were visible, weren't wrapped up any longer. Yet the skin there was bruised and reddened – proof of the man's desperate attempts to escape the chains. Again Schmidt felt a soft pang of guilt that he hadn't acted sooner when the colonel had been held captive in the headquarters.
Hogan had heard the front door opening and closing, before quiet steps of booted feet drew nearer. Someone had crept into the house, and he felt tension rising in him. Whoever it was: They weren't here officially.
The steps stopped at the threshold to the sleeping room, and Hogan braced himself. Being a man who never awaited for events to take place, but rather took action to face them, Hogan opened his eyes – and a bolt of anxiety knotted his stomach as he recognized the black uniform.
Lifting his head and gripping for the blankets to throw them away, he was about to jump up in a reflex of pure defense, as the visitor lifted a hand.
"Calm down, Colonel. I'm not here to harm you," a slightly familiar voice with a strong German accent said.
Hogan's heart beat in his throat, while he stared at the intruder. It was a man in his late twenties, with blond hair and…
"Do you remember me, Colonel Hogan?" the SS-officer asked almost kindly, and for a moment Hogan was thrown back in time. Once again he was in those cellars; the horror of almost being branded still echoed in him, while the same young man was in front of him – promising to get help.
"Schmidt?" he asked hoarsely.
The young German smiled; almost relieved. "Yes, it's me," he nodded. "I'm glad you remember." He stepped into the room. "Please, remain in bed. Too hasty movements will do your injuries no good."
Warily, Hogan lay back again; still ready to act if necessary.
"I'm sorry I startled you," Schmidt continued. "That you react badly to the view of this uniform is no miracle given everything Hochstetter did to you."
"Usually I'm not easily scared," the colonel grumbled; irritated with himself. For a moment he had been really startled, and this was bad for every upcoming mission in the future – and it made him feel ashamed.
His half-pout elicited a smile on Schmidt's face.
"This I'm believing utterly," Horst nodded; then he turned serious again. "Colonel, I'm here to prepare you. There was an assault yesterday not far away from this camp, and Hochstetter gave some gravely statements in Berlin, a fact that has made Himmler and even Hitler suspicious concerning your person and your assumed true identity."
Baffled that Schmidt obviously had come to warn him, Hogan still remained wary. There was no proof that the young man had no seconds thoughts, so the colonel clung to his role, as he replied hoarsely, "Do I have to fear another interrogation – in my condition?" And he had to admit that the mere prospect made him nervous all of a sudden. Of course he had known that the investigation could include a questioning, and only yesterday evening he had tried to calm down a hyper-nervous Klink because of these upcoming things, but now, as the time had arrived, he felt unease, too.
Schmidt sighed. "Let me put it like this: The suspicions were dropped when General Burkhalter learned from Oberst Klink that you're still in no condition to do anything more than lie in bed or limp to the restrooms, like I learned from the investigating team this morning. Yet Kriminalrat Lübkemeier from the Gestapo and some others are here to investigate the whole case – and to satisfy themselves and the brass in Berlin that you being responsible for the assault is really out of the question. Lübkemeier and his men are in Klink's office, and they will come here afterwards. Just answer their questions, plain and calm. Don't irritate them. Lübkemeier is a steely dog who wouldn't even hesitate to arrest his own grandmother. And…" He took a deep breath, "some personal advise from me: Don't make hasty moves – or anything else that could give him, von Neuhaus and the others the idea that your healing proceeds better than it looks."
Hogan frowned.; inwardly thunderstruck that the Leutnant was obviously trying to help him again. "Have you just warned me about the Gestapo's intentions?"
Schmidt grimaced. "What has been done to you was wrong – and I don't want a repeat only because guys like Lübkemeier, von Neuhaus and Hochstetter are suffering from strong paranoia. To interrogate someone is one thing, to torture him is a different kettle of fish. I am aware that this is an almost common method of the Gestapo and SS by now, but this doesn't mean that I agree to it." He carefully stepped to the window and looked out through the curtain. "Shit, they are already coming." He turned around. "Does this building have a back-door?"
Still surprised about Schmidt's secret warning, Hogan watched him a second, before he said, "Are you fearing your own colleagues?"
"It wouldn't be good if they catch me here with you. Von Neuhaus is still angry that I got the leading post and not he – and Lübkemeier is a lunatic with the behavior of an iceman. He would instantly suspect that you and I have to hide something. And, by the way, visiting POWs is forbidden – especially when no Luftwaffe-member is present. So, where is…"
"Through the kitchen. It's the left door in the living-room when you're coming from here," Hogan interrupted him; realizing how much the young man had just risked to warn him. The least he could do was show him a safe way out of the upcoming danger he had maneuvered himself in.
Schmidt began to walk as quickly as possible towards the door. "Stay calm, Colonel. And no hasty movements," he said over his shoulder. "That your condition is better than it seems was plain to see the way you reacted at my arrival."
Hogan cursed inwardly. Dammit, the boy was really bright, yet there was only one answer possible. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he said quietly. "You helped me the morning Hochstetter was about to brand me – and you try to help me now. And one day I want to learn why."
Schmidt grimaced. "It's a question of honor, Colonel." He nodded shortly at the American officer before he vanished. He only hoped that his advice would be taken to heart…
TBC…
Well, I think Schmidt is a very big riddle for Hogan, the Heroes – and you, my dear readers. Is he 'only' a honorable man who tries to remain true to his upbringing and point of views, or does he have an own agenda? Just wait (smile).
When I began to write the story I always had this picture in my mind from one of the Heroes coming out of the tunnel beneath Klink's furnace with the Oberst being present to see it. I imagined Klink's face then and had to laugh. I hope, I got the scene right, because in my eyes it bears a certain kind of slapstick. I also always imagined Klink's reaction should he learn that the 'little private with the moustache' hadn't been in his camp for real, but that it was an imposter. I hope, you liked these little funny scenes, as well as the rest.
In the next chapter Lübkemeier shows his mean, sinister side – that he is someone who loves to 'play' with others and has no problem with demonstrating his power. Well, it's time for another appearance of the 'Iron Eagle' – and that Klink can play dirty tricks, too, will be clearly seen then.
I hope, the new chapter met you approval, and I would love to get feedback from you, so… (*snicker*).
Have a nice rest of Sunday and a good start into the next week.
Love
Yours Starflight
