Hi, my dear readers,
Thank you so much for the feedback concerning the last chapter – and also thank you for putting up with my errors. My beta-reader sent the last and the actual chapter, and I replaced the last one parallel, while I publish the new one. So, who wants to read no. 30 without errors…
In the new one, more or less chaos breaks lose. The investigation will demand a lot from all – especially from Klink, who tries to safe the day by managing the whole mess that takes place.
Therefore, no long prologue.
Have fun with the new chapter,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 31 – The investigation
Klink headed towards his quarters; the three Gestapo-officers, von Neuhaus and the two SS-guards on his heels. His tension was growing to an almost unbearable level with every step he took, yet he knew that he had to keep up the charade for all their sakes. He only hoped Hogan could keep his witty mouth under control, or they would all be in deep water.
Lübkemeier frowned as he saw in which direction the Oberst was going. "Isn't the infirmary over there?" he asked; pointing at the low building beside the casino.
"Yes, but Colonel Hogan was accommodated in the Oberst's personal quarters," von Neuhaus sneered; shooting dark glares at the POWs, who were shoveling snow and glancing with loathing at him and the others.
The Kriminalrat stopped in his track and stared at Klink. "You did what?"
The Kommandant turned around. In earlier times, he would have quivered to receive such a look from a higher ranking Gestapo-officer, but to his own surprise his tension melted away all of a sudden and he became absolutely calm; the way it had happened a few times within the last two weeks. Something deep in him spread its invisible wings again and gave him strength – a strength also rooted in the knowledge that Robert's life depended on him. And not only Hogan's, but the lives of the colonel's men and his own, too.
"Do you really think I'd waste a lot of valuable wood to warm the whole infirmary for one man?" he asked ironically; wondering for a moment from where he'd taken the courage to put up such a show. "I've to consider a low budget that allows me no special treatments," he continued, nonchalant. "And given the fact that the man in question is a high ranking American officer who has the right to some benefits, I see no problem in offering him a place to heal within my quarters. Like this I can also keep a wary eye on him and realize when my hospitality is no longer really needed. By the way, this arrangement was made in agreement with General Burkhalter. So, if you have objections, please contact him."
He turned around and continued on his way. Lübkemeier exchanged a glance with his assistant Pönnighaus, before he glanced at von Neuhaus; baffled.
"Like I told you, sir: Klink is a very peculiar individual," the Leutnant murmured, before he followed the Oberst. The others did the same.
Half a minute later they reached the quarters and Klink entered first. "Please, Gentlemen, come into my parlor, and make yourself at home."
Lübkemeier looked around. The quarters were made of wood like any other building within the camp, but they offered some comfort. Bookshelves, paintings, antique looking furniture, a set-up chessboard and gramophone told him more about Klink than anything else. The Oberst was a person with individuality who knew how to create his own little world of luxury. He was a relic of the Great War just like the silly monocle he wore – yet there was more to him. One moment the man was nervous and chuckled to cover it, the next he became stern, like steel. Lübkemeier had problems categorizing him, and this was something that didn't happen often.
"Over there, Gentlemen," Klink said and headed towards his usual sleeping-chamber. He knocked at the door-frame. "Hogan? You've visitors," he declared and stepped inside.
Klink admired the way Hogan acted. Slowly opening his eyes, the colonel took a deep breath, carefully turned his head and looked expressionlessly at the men, who stopped at the threshold – just as if he had been deeply asleep. "What?" he murmured, then he seemed to shrink into the pillow and comforters, as he glanced at the three men in leather-cloaks and at von Neuhaus. "What are they doing here?" he croaked; sounding alarmed.
Lübkemeier frowned, as he saw the beaten and patched up man in the bed. There was no doubt that this Major Hochstetter he had heard of a few times within the last hours, had lived out his obvious hate concerning the American. Yet how much the injuries still affected the enemy officer after more than ten days remained to be seen.
"Colonel Robert Hogan, correct?" he asked in fluid English.
"Y-y-yes," Hogan answered; gulping as he pretended to be startled.
"I'm Kriminalrat Johan Lübkemeier from Berlin. Do you have any idea why I'm here?"
Hogan looked at Klink, who said firmly, "Just answer the questions!"
"You're here to investigate the case of Hochstetter," the colonel said quietly. "If you…"
"No, I'm not here because of Hochstetter," Lübkemeier interrupted. "Or, better to say, the major's suspicions concerning you are one point of the long list of questions I've to find answers for. Would you please rise?"
"Rise?" Hogan pretended to be clueless. He knew exactly what the Gestapo-officer was up to: Testing his real condition.
Klink, who had stood there with his typical posture – one hand on the back, the other one holding the riding crop beneath his arm, upper body bowed forwards – straightened his shape. "Herr Kriminalrat, Colonel Hogan is barely able to move. And every tour to the restroom is hard for him. May I ask why he should…"
"A simple test, my dear Oberst. I hope you've no objections?" Lübkemeier answered; glaring at the Luftwaffe-officer with challenge clear in his eyes.
"Despite the fact that I see no reason why an injured man should undergo an obvious effort that could slow down his healing process, I've no objections," Klink answered, before he looked at Hogan; hidden worry lay deep in his eyes.
"It's okay, Kommandant," the colonel whispered and carefully pulled the blankets away. "Obviously the gentlemen's belief in General Burkhalter's honesty isn't this big, otherwise they wouldn't distrust his statements concerning my condition."
"Are you trying to insult us?" Pönnighaus asked sharply.
Hogan, who had sat up by now, looked up at him. "I am only stating the obvious," he rasped, "otherwise you would accept General Burkhalter's statement without demanding proof of his seriousness." Carefully, he slipped his legs over the bed's edge. Taking a deep breath he pretended to have problems rising. Finally he managed to stem himself up and swayed dangerously for a moment, before he found some balance by steadying himself at the bedpost.
Lübkemeier watched him closely. "Make two or three steps, Colonel."
"Pray tell me what this is all about?" Hogan asked; not masking his irritation. "Have you guys no other hobbies than pestering other people?"
"Hogan, that's quite enough! The gentlemen are only doing their job!" Klink rebuked him sharply; inwardly begging the younger man for forgiveness. He hated having to act like this towards Robert.
"And what does their job have to do with my condition – besides one of their club being responsible for it?"
"There was an assault on a railway not far from here," Klink began.
"And they think it was me?" Hogan asked, thunderstruck.
"This is something we've to find out," von Neuhaus said, stepped beside the American and gave him a little shove.
It really took Hogan by surprise, and being indeed not too steady on his feet, he stumbled. If it wouldn't have been for Klink, who reacted with lightning speed, he would have sprawled to the ground.
"Hogan!" He caught the colonel around the waist, who cried out in pain as his still bruised abdomen collided with Klink's arm. Pain shot through Hogan's body, while he tried to find some balance, but his legs and knees didn't obey him the way they should. It was only because Klink used all his strength to support him that Hogan managed to regain his footing.
"Easy, Hogan," Klink said quietly, while he helped the younger man to sit down on the bed's edge again. For a moment he looked straight in Hogan's eyes, saw the pain in them, and squeezed the American's arm for a second, while he was still steadying him. Taking a deep breath, Klink turned around towards his visitors. The fury in his eyes was real, as he snapped,
"Was this necessary, Herr Leutnant? You saw the terrible shape he was in with your own eyes as you intruded in my quarters after Hogan was released from the Gestapo-HQ, and you got General Burkhalter's statement. Isn't this enough?"
Von Neuhaus lifted both brows. "I'm only doing my…"
"Is the word of a staff-officer, who belongs to the Führer's inner circle and is a close friend to your highest ranking superior, not enough anymore? How dare you to doubt the general's report – or my word for that matter!"
"This certainly wasn't the Leutnant's intention, Herr Oberst," Lübkemeier cut in. "He only wanted to make sure that it is really out of the question that the American is respons…"
"'The American' has a name, Herr Kriminalrat, and even the lowest politeness demands that you use it," Klink interrupted him with icy wrath. "I know that we're at war and that Colonel Hogan belongs to the enemy, but in my camp the POWs will be treated with the simple human respect that is common between civilized people. We Germans were always well-known for our formidable courtesy, and we should all do our best it remains that way – war or not. Have I made myself clear?"
The three Gestapo-officers stared at him with wide eyes. Klink stood between them and Hogan tall and firm like a strong tree; shielding the colonel who inwardly applauded the older man for the courage shown. It amazed him anew how much his German counterpart had changed within the last days.
Lübkemeier cleared his throat. "Well, if you look at it from this point of view, I have to…"
A noise from the front-door distracted the men, then Hogan and Klink heard Schultz's familiar voice, "Bitt'schön, Herr Oberleutnant, die Herr'n san hier." (Bavarian: Please/come in, Senior Lieutenant, the Gentlemen are here.)
A few moments later the new CO of the Hammelburg Gestapo-HQ stopped at the threshold to the sleeping-chamber, looked around and a short smile appeared on his face as he saw the Kommandant.
"Oberst Klink, nice to see you again," he announced, while he stepped into the room and saluted.
Klink felt a short wave of relief as he saw the young man. An inner voice told him that everything wouldn't be so bad now. Schmidt's timing had been perfect because the whole situation was about to get out of hand. And Schmidt had honor – and this was more than Klink could state about the young man's direct colleague and the guys in the leather-cloaks.
"Oberleutnant Schmidt, the pleasure is mine," he replied while returning the military salute. "I was surprised you didn't accompany the gentlemen, but as it seemed, you only decided to not join them in my office."
"I had to check a few things through first," Schmidt answered, before his eyes found the cowering shape of the American officer who had wrapped his arms protectively around his middle. Schmidt took in the paleness and pain which hadn't been mirrored on the other man's face before and frowned slightly. "What's going on here?" he asked.
"Maybe you should explain to your inferior that the Geneva Conventions have to be followed within my camp," Klink said sternly. "Shoving POWs – injured men – around isn't the correct way for a German officer to behave. At least not if they're officially matured to an adult. We're not on a schoolyard here where bullies think they can do whatever they want!"
Schmidt's eyes narrowed, while von Neuhaus said, nonchalant, "I only wanted to check if the colonel's unsteadiness is an act or true. You can never tell if those clever Americans are or are not playing a role or…"
"You pushed the colonel despite his grave wounds and the risk of relapse if he would have fallen?"
"Colonel Klink caught me," Hogan added for good measure; making his voice sound hoarser than it was.
Schmidt frowned, irritated, before he glared back at von Neuhaus. "I thought General Burkhalter and I made it very clear that we are ALL following written laws. I am warning you one last time, Herr Leutnant. There is a big difference between distrust and paranoia, and what the latter leads to has been seen in Major Hochstetter's case. Be careful you don't follow him."
He turned towards Hogan. "I'm sorry for the behavior of my inferior, Colonel." Then he glanced at Lübkemeier and took a deep breath. "Back to business. I made certain that all our men have secured the barracks. As soon as the POWs are restricted to their lodgings, you can start the inspection, Herr Kriminalrat."
"Inspection?" Klink all but demanded. "What inspection? Himmler himself agreed that my camp is free of all suspicion."
Lübkemeier sighed. "Herr Oberst, I got my orders from the highest position within this land – to reveal the identity of those who assaulted the speed-railway in this area. And therefore I also have to check where they hide."
"Hide – in my camp?" Klink scoffed. "Even if someone comes in here by his own free will, he certainly won't be able to leave anymore." He lifted a finger, the other hand was balled around the grip of his riding crop. "Just for you to know, Herr Kriminalrat, there has never been a successful escape from my camp."
"Yes, we know. You already tore Major Hochstetter's nerves to shreds pointing this detail out every time he was here," von Neuhaus murmured.
Klink gave him a mocking smile. "Major Hochstetter's nerves were always torn to shreds no matter what, going off because of everything and everyone – like it usually is when someone possesses such a choleric temper," he scoffed. Then he shrugged and spread his hands. "But if the gentlemen would feel better if they check Stalag 13 through – please be my guests. I've nothing against it." He looked at Schultz, who seemed to have real problems understanding what was really going on. "Schultz, all POWs back into their barracks. They shall wait there for the inspection of their huts – except for Sergeant Wilson. Call for him; he shall check Colonel Hogan through."
Lübkemeier frowned. "All POWs should be restricted to their barracks, and given the name of the man you just mentioned he has to be English or American. Certainly he…"
"Herr Kriminalrat, Sergeant Wilson is our medic here and is liable to special paragraphs within the Geneva Conventions which rule the handling of medical personnel and their duties, as you certainly know. And thanks to the over-eagerly Leutnant here, Colonel Hogan is in need of medical aid." He nodded at Schultz. "You've your orders, Sergeant."
"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz saluted and left the room after he cast a worried glance at Hogan; hoping that the American officer was okay.
Klink made an inviting gesture towards the door. "Please, Gentlemen, let us begin with the inspection so that we can start with the actually necessary work afterwards." He turned his attention quickly to his American counterpart. "Lay down, Hogan. Wilson will look after you soon," he said coolly, before he looked at the others. "After you, Gentlemen."
Giving Hogan a last, estimating glance, Lübkemeier left the sleeping-chamber, followed by the two other Gestapo-officers, von Neuhaus and Schmidt. The latter shot Hogan an apologetic look; asking himself if the American officer would regard German people as human beings ever again after all he had to endure within the last two weeks.
Yet Schmidt hadn't to fear everlasting loathing from Hogan. The colonel was well aware of the differences between fanatical fellows of the Führer and people who were forced to make a friendly face during this evil game. And then there were the third group of people – people like Wilhelm Klink; those who dared to fight against this madness for whatever reason.
Looking at the Kommandant, Hogan caught the worry and the hidden guilt in the older man's eyes, and risking a lot he gave him a short, warm smile – signaling like this that everything was okay.
He earned a quick smile in return, then Klink left with typical hasty steps.
*** HH ***
Half an hour later, Lübkemeier looked around in the room that didn't look any different than those he had already inspected. The POWs stood beside their stock beds, hands mostly folded on the back, legs slightly spread. The only difference to the other barracks was the door to the right that led to the tiny office and sleeping area of the senior POW officer.
Pursing his lips, the Kriminalrat turned towards Klink. "And this is Colonel Hogan's barracks?" he asked.
"Ja, this is Barracks 2," the Oberst nodded; smiling in his usual obedient-silly way, yet the Unsung Heroes realized that it was nothing more than a charade to keep up the pretense. Inwardly Klink had to be inhumanly tense. Even Newkirk felt some sympathy for the German officer; knowing how much this all put additional stress onto the Kommandant.
"Tidy and clean like the others," Pönnighaus murmured. "I rarely saw a Stalag that is in such a good condition." He glanced at Klink. "My compliments, Herr Oberst."
Klink only made an arrogant sound in his throat and cocked his head; riding crop still tightly held beneath his arm as if it would give him some hold.
Schmidt glanced around, too – more curious than he should be. So, this was the current 'home' of the American colonel. It was shabby and poor, yet there was a certain warmth within the atmosphere, despite the fact that the POWs did a bad job masking their loathing. His gaze found a dark-skinned man in American uniform, then one in the blue uniform of the Royal Air Force and finally his gaze found the tiny Frenchman. Pretending not to know him, he let his glance wander further through the room – and, just like he anticipated, the Frenchman didn't react to him at all. Very good. Any call of attention could be bad.
Lübkemeier turned towards Klink. "You said the current acting senior POW officer is here, too. Who is it? I have some questions."
Klink took a deep breath; already assuming the Kriminalrat's reaction. "Sergeant Kinchloe, please come here!" he ordered.
Kinch, who had been torn out of sleep by Newkirk after the SS arrived, closed the distance to the two Germans and saluted brusquely. "Kommandant!"
Lübkemeier looked him up and down with arrogant disgust in his eyes, before he addressed Klink. "Can it even write reports?"
Kinchloe tensed and his eyes became small as he heard the insulting reference. Racism wasn't new to him, even within his own army, but here, in Nazi-Germany, it was practiced to a twisted, sinister art.
But not all Germans thought this way, like Klink proved. And the Kommandant's reply took James by surprise.
"'It'?" the Oberst asked, confused, and looked at the table. "Here are no pencils which could be used to write reports, so to what are you referring?"
Lübkemeier gestured to Kinchloe. "To that here."
The atmosphere within the barracks had changed dramatically. Newkirk and Carter stood taller than ever before, and glared threateningly at the Kriminalrat. LeBeau's face had flushed into a deep angry red, and Olsen and some others had balled their fists. No-one insulted their highly respected and loved 'Kinch'!
Klink stared for a few seconds at Lübkemeier, then at Kinchloe, and back at the Gestapo-officer. "Seeing that you decided to ignore the bridge I built for you concerning your slip of manners, I've to become more clear. Like I said after the incident in my quarters, Herr Kriminalrat: In MY camp every POW is treated with the general polite manners between civilized people!" he said sharply. "Sergeant Kinchloe is a well-schooled, well-brought up man and hasn't the rank of an officer for naught. He is disciplined, polite and also liked by all POWs. And as the acting senior POW officer he deserves some respect – even from us. He…"
"He is a Nig…"
"Kriminalrat Lübkemeier, I know the point of view many of us have towards people who look different from us. May I ask you a personal question? Have you ever had a sunburn?"
Confused because of the sudden change, Lübkemeier blinked. "Well, of course I have. Who has not? After all…"
"What happens to your appearance then?" Klink lifted one finger before the Gestapo-officer could reply something. "I'll tell you: Your skin turns dark. Does it mean that you're a different, less worthy man because of it? No, of course not! The countries Sergeant Kinchloe's people come from have sun during the whole year and heat far more intense than here in northern Europe. Ever thought of the idea that the Lord gave those people a darker skin to protect them against the sun?"
The SS- and Gestapo-men weren't the only ones who gaped at the Kommandant, who smiled, satisfied. "I thought as much. We can make our own regards and overthink the whole evolution, but 'men should never doubt the Lord's wisdom'. This is something even our Führer said a few times. And you don't doubt our Führer's words, do you?"
Lübkemeier had flushed and his eyes were narrowed. "I don't remember when he said something like this, end…"
"During the opening ceremony of the Olympic games, Herr Kriminalrat. I was there. And he said something similar as he congratulated me and some comrades in person for the successful test-flight of the HE-111 E1 I later flew constantly during my active time. I'm sure you have noticed that our Führer holds the Church in high respect, as the Church not only gives hope in dark times, but also protects weaker people. Sergeant Kinchloe may be from a lower race, but he has gained his place within society by hard work – an ability that was certainly given to him by the Lord, otherwise he wouldn't protrude the way he does compared to many other of his people. So show him the simple human respect he deserves. By the way, you – as a high ranking Gestapo-officer – stand above bullying, don't you?"
Lübkemeier and the others didn't know what to make of those words. First Klink stood up for the dark-skinned man and obviously all Negros, and then he paraded the untouchable class of the master-race. The man was one big riddle – and the Kriminalrat decided to accept the challenge.
"Your views are… not easy to understand, but you have some arguments here." He glanced at Kinchloe, who had crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared coldly at him. "Sergeant, I've a few questions," he came back to business as if nothing had happened. "How long have you been here in Stalag 13?"
"Since the end of June 1942," Kinch answered tonelessly.
"And did you ever try to escape?"
"Yes, a few times. Then I accepted that it is impossible to escape from here. Colonel Klink has a tight grip on the whole camp."
Klink smiled at this, straightened his shape and bounced a little bit on his feet, while inwardly he still glowered about Lübkemeier's impertinence towards Kinchloe. He had learned to respect the dark-skinned man for a long time now, and the open racism the Kriminalrat displayed filled him with anger.
"And Colonel Hogan was already here when you arrived?" Lübkemeier continued his questioning.
"Yes, he was already in charge of the POWs."
He looked down at some notes he had brought with him in a small, leather-wrapped notebook. "And he made you his PSO – despite the fact that Staff-Sergeant Carter is the highest ranking officer here?" He looked around. "Who is Carter?"
The young man stepped forward – lifting a hand like in school. "That would be me – sir."
Lübkemeier looked him up and down; snorting. "Well, I think I know why the colonel chose the Ni… the sergeant. I'm surprised that someone like you is an officer."
"Why, because I'm young? I'm sure you were it at one time, too – even if has to be long ago," Carter deadpanned.
Promptly, the POWs began to snicker.
"No, because stupidity practically radiates from you," Lübkemeier snapped.
Carter smiled at him. "Well, in the moment I'm only a POW, but if I have problems after the war because of my 'stupidity', I can always become a Kriminalrat. For that I'm intelligent enough."
The POWs burst out with laughter – and Klink raised his voice, "SILENCE, or there will be consequences!" Yes, a part of him was amused, yet nervousness rose in him with a shrill sound of alert. Could this gang not behave one damn time? Hell, he tried to prevent them drawing too much attention to themselves, and then that! He shot Carter a glare that was ignored.
The men continued to snicker and grin a little bit longer, while Carter put on his best stupid-innocent expression. Lübkemeier pointed a finger at him. "I'll get you for this, boy." He scowled one last time at him, before he turned back towards Kinchloe. "Even if he actually outranks you, as his acting superior you should put this infant down to his place."
"Why? Because he stated the obvious? Don't get me wrong, sir, but you're certainly older than 23." He smiled a little bit. "And, by the way, it's the right of youth to push their limits. As far as I remember, Leutnant von Neuhaus did the same twelve days ago, just like a few of his men. What are their excuses? After all they belong to the 'master-race' and should be far more mature, don't you agree?" Kinch taunted.
Lübkemeier gritted his teeth as he realized that he was outwitted by a mere boy and a 'half-ape'. Turning his back at Kinchloe, he barked, "Commissioner Pönnighaus, this barracks will be searched thoroughly through! And if there is the tiniest hint that something is wrong, this whole bunch of rebels will be arrested."
Klink straightened his shape to his full height. "You have every right to investigate, Kriminalrat Lübkemeier, but may I remind you that your highest ranking superior already declared this camp as above reproach? Shall I report to him that you ignored his statement and acted on arbitrariness because a mere boy irritated you and the current acting senior POW officer stood up for him like it is his duty as his superior? I think the Reichsführer expects more from his staff."
"He expects me to find out the truth, Herr Oberst, and this is exactly what I'm doing," Lübkemeier growled.
"By letting yourself be driven by the wish for pay-back because of some silly, little jokes?" Klink replied; surprising himself and the present POWs again by the bravery he displayed. "That's beneath a Kriminalrat, if you allow this thought to be voiced. But please, do whatever you have to do – and I shall do what I have to do." He went to the door, shot Carter another dark glance – who ducked his head as he realized that he had heightened the critical situation they all were in – and left.
Schultz stood with two guards at the Kommandantur and asked him, concerned, what had happened as he saw the unmasked anger on his superior's face, but Klink passed him by with a "Not now, Schultz!", and stormed up the stairs into the building, where Hilda was searching for something in the file cabinet. "Link me to General Burkhalter, urgently. Priority one!" he ordered, sharper than intended, and raced into his office; grousing, "Verdammter Grünschnabel! Jetzt haben wir den Salat!" (Damn greenhorn! Now we've to pay the cost!)
The telephone rang and Hilda's voice reported that she had the demanded person on the line. "Thanks!" Klink breathed, then he cleared his throat.
"Klink? What's the matter now? A priority-one call for what exactly?" the general's voice sneered over the phone.
"Herr General, I'm calling as your friend," Klink said with calm he didn't feel. Hogan's taunting about the distrust the Gestapo-officers displayed against Burkhalter had given Klink an idea how to stop Lübkemeier before it was too late, and he hoped it would be successful. "As it seems, sir, neither your word nor that of Reichsführer Himmler counts a lot within the Gestapo anymore. They openly doubt yours and therefore also the Reichsführer's honesty."
"WHAT?" Burkhalter sounded as if he couldn't believe his own ears, which came very near the reality.
"Yes, Herr General. It's a shame how your reputation and that of the Reichsführer is eroded by his own men! Kriminalrat Lübkemeier, who is the man responsible for the investigation, arrived over an hour ago. He made it very clear that he neither believes your statement concerning the whole insanity that Hogan could be Papa Bear because of his injuries, nor does he accept the opinion of the Reichsführer that was made and accepted by our beloved Führer that my camp is beyond any doubt. Lübkemeier's men are just tearing down everything here, threatening the POWs and even injured Colonel Hogan again by 'testing' his abilities to walk, even if he is barely able to stand on his feet. If I wouldn't have intervened at the last moment, Hogan would be on his way to the hospital now."
"I… I can't believe this," Burkhalter gasped. "Has something or someone triggered the Kriminalrat? Hogan has a witty mouth and…"
"Hogan had nothing to do with this. He obeyed the Kriminalrat's demands to show him how poorly he is able to move. And if this weren't enough, Hogan was even shoved by this Leutnant von Neuhaus so that he would have fallen if…"
"Von Neuhaus? Not this guy again!" the general growled, before he took a deep breath. "And now Kriminalrat Lübkemeier is tearing your camp apart?"
"Yes, I pointed out your reports and the statements of Reichsführer Himmler to him, but he doesn't care. His whole behavior shows that he neither believes nor respects a direct staff-member of the Führer – you – and his own superior – Himmler. I don't know to what this will lead, sir, but if inferiors doubt the highest ranking men in our glorious Reich and therefore indirectly accuse them of lying, I can't sit there and do nothing against it. You and I have our differences, but we always worked well together and I do consider you a friend. Therefore I thought I had to inform you about this infame…"
"I shall speak with Heinrich. Be ready to receive his call in a few minutes," Burkhalter interrupted him, before he added quietly, "Klink? Thank you for you loyalty! I'll put an end to this all." Then there was a click at the line before it went dead.
Klink placed the receiver back and rubbed his hands. That went very, very well. For a moment he grinned. This had been a plan worth being schemed by Hogan – which brought him back to the start of the whole mess. "That deserves a verbal smack on the ear, my boy!" he hissed. "Not only from me, but from Hogan, too. To endanger us all like this is intolerable!" He went to the door and peeked out of it. "Fräulein Hilda, I am expecting a callback from Berlin in a few minutes. Put the general or the Reichsführer through me instantly!"
She looked with big eyes at him and nodded.
*** HH ***
In Barracks 2 all hell had broken loose. The SS-men had torn out the beddings and mattresses, were emptying the lockers now – not caring for the private belongings landing on the floor – and were about to do the same in Hogan's office, as the door opened and Klink returned.
He gritted his teeth for a moment as he saw the chaos that was raging through the room. "Kriminalrat Lübkemeier? There is a call for you – from Berlin!" he said loudly, to be heard over the protests of the POWs and the sneering answers of the black-clad men.
The Gestapo-officer frowned, stared at Klink and narrowed his eyes. "Whom have you called?"
"No one important – I only talked with Heinrich a little bit, and let us say that he isn't too delighted that you obviously distrust his and his good friend's Burkhalter's reputation." On full purpose he used the Reichsführer's given name to plant the idea that they knew each other very well. In fact that had been the first time ever he had spoken with Himmler in person – and he didn't want a repeat. The man wasn't less eerie than the Führer himself.
"You called…" Lübkemeier didn't end the sentence, but stared at him for a moment, before he added coldly, "I underestimated you."
"A mistake many people do," Klink all but drawled nonchalantly, before he smiled. "I wouldn't let the Reichsführer wait much longer, if I were you. He sounded very irritated, to put it mildly."
With a curse Lübkemeier left the barracks, while Schmidt stopped beside Klink. "Any chance that this call will end this… this madness here?" he whispered hopefully.
The Oberst took a deep breath. "I don't think you would be making an error if you call your men back now and warn off the two Gestapo-guys."
Almost relieved, Schmidt raised his voice. "That's enough, Gentlemen. Stop it – all of you!"
Pönnighaus and von Neuhaus, who stood at the threshold to Hogan's usual office, looked surprised at him. "The Herr Kriminalrat didn't call the inspection off," Pönnighaus protested.
"He will as soon as he returns – and the more damage is done until then the more he's in trouble. As it seems there is a big misunderstanding in the whole case. Reichsführer Himmler is clearing everything out with him at the moment."
At the mention of the second highest man in Germany, the activities were instantly interrupted. Schmidt pointed to the door. "Everyone of my men: Out. We've wasted enough time here." He nodded at Pönnighaus and Leitner, before he left the barracks behind his men; ignoring von Neuhaus' glares.
"Gentlemen, I think your superior will expect you on the compound," Klink said and made a gesture towards the door, too. "Please, after you." He looked around. "Sergeant Kinchloe, take care that this chaos will be cleaned up. If you need tools or other aids, tell Sergeant Schultz. I'll send him over to you." He walked to the entrance, but stopped shortly beside Carter. "You did us all a bad turn, boy," he whispered sharply, while his eyes shot daggers at the young man. "Keep your big mouth shut the next time, unless you want us all to face a firing squad. And be sure that I'll tell Colonel Hogan about this mess here! I think he is going to have some words with you." He left and banged the door closed behind him.
With guilt, Andrew looked towards his friends. The most of them had stemmed their hands on their hips and were glaring at him.
"This was really super, Andy," Newkirk finally stated wryly. "If you want to spare us any boredom next time, please do not involve the Gestapo again."
*** HH ***
The talk between Lübkemeier and the highest SS-man had been short, but obviously very intense and illuminating. As the Kriminalrat returned to the compound, his lips were pressed in a thin line, his face was flushed and his eyes burning, but his voice was even as he said to Klink,
"The Reichsführer gave me some information about your camp I obviously haven't gotten before. The inspection is over now and we should… begin with the real investigation. I want to examine the place of the sabotage as well as the area around it. Do you have any charts which would help my men and me?"
Klink smiled patronizingly at him. "Of course I've detailed charts here, which have been already used by the SS several times whenever they sought for shot-down enemy pilots or escapees they weren't able to hold. Come to my office and I can provide you with them." He strutted towards his office. "And a little advice from a Wehrmacht-officer to the police, Herr Kriminalrat: You should always consider your superiors' decisions before you compromise their reputation by not believing them. It spares a lot of anger. Reichsführer Himmler and General Burkhalter do not have their positions for naught, but because they belong to the brightest minds within Germany." Inwardly he cringed. Yes, both men mentioned were highly intelligent, but in Klink's eyes their 'bright minds' were strongly misguided – even in Burkhalter's case one time or another. Yet he had to praise them to get Lübkemeier down another peck or two – and all this for his camp and 'his' troublemaker.
A quarter hour later the Gestapo- and SS-officers had conferred how to proceed. The surrounding villages would be searched for suspicious tracks, devices and people, including Poppenhausen, Bad Kissingen and Hammelburg. Furthermore the citizens would be asked if they had maybe seen something that would give the investigation team usable information. Every detail could lead to the saboteurs. To Klink's utter dismay, Lübkemeier demanded that the Oberst should accompany him today and maybe tomorrow, too – after all, Klink had lived here for more than four years now, and Schmidt as well as von Neuhaus were relatively new to the area. The Kriminalrat was convinced that the Kommandant could help them with being their scout until they had come to know the area better. And, maybe, it was his own pay-back, calling Klink away from his comfortable camp into the icy weather for the next two days.
Smiling, but inwardly gritting his teeth, Klink agreed – after all he had gotten his orders during the telephone talk with Burkhalter from the highest position within the Third Reich, and he also had to play along to drive away any further suspicions concerning his camp, Hogan and his men, and his own person.
Stalling a few minutes by declaring that he had to get his scarf and gloves from his quarters, he walked quickly towards the separate building to keep Hogan updated. On his way he met Schultz, who had supplied Barracks 2 with some utensils so that the chaos inside of the hut could be eliminated. Telling Schultz of his absence within maybe the next two days he put the sergeant in charge, and after he received some questions which showed how confused Schultz was about everything, he promised to inform him in the evening.
Finally, he stepped into his quarters and headed straight to his usual sleeping chamber. Wilson was nowhere to be seen, but Hogan lay in bed and pulled a book out from under the covers where he had hidden it as he heard the front door opening. It was a book written in German, and Klink knew instantly why his American counterpart had secreted the literature away. It wouldn't be good if someone of the SS or Gestapo learned that Hogan spoke and read fluid German.
"Is the coast clear now?" the colonel asked quietly, and Klink snorted.
"Far from it. I've the 'honor' to play scout for the Gestapo-dudes today and maybe tomorrow, too." He stopped at the bed. "How are you?" he asked quietly; concern written plainly on his face and in his eyes.
Hogan gave him a short smile. "I'm okay, Wilhelm, don't worry your head off. Fortunately you caught me before real damage could be done. Yeah, my abdomen got one more bruise and my legs give me new trouble, but these are minor damages given what I would have had to endure if you hadn't reacted so quickly and steadied me."
"Damn von Neuhaus," Klink growled. "I could punch the bastard!"
"Don't!" Hogan warned him quietly. "That you knocked out Hochstetter could be excused with your duty to stop him from killing me at the very last moment, but if you now attack a guy from the Gestapo without clear self-defense, they would surely court-martial you."
"I know," Klink sighed. "Especially after the 'dance' I had with Lübkemeier within the last hour."
The American officer frowned. "What 'dance'? Did you get in trouble because you stood up for me, or is it…"
"No," the Oberst grimaced. "It's because of Lübkemeier's cursed racism and your dynamite-boy who couldn't keep his mouth shut."
Hogan abruptly sat up in the bed. "Carter? What has he done now? And what do you mean with racism?"
The Kommandant put down his monocle and rubbed his face, before he gave Hogan a short version of what happened. The noise that escaped Hogan after Klink ended the little story wasn't even a groan anymore. It was worse! Letting himself fall back into the pillows – and grimacing because of his instantly protesting back – he moaned, "I'm going to sew his big mouth shut! GOD DAMMIT! This chatterbox will really be our downfall one day!"
"You can say that. I called Burkhalter and…" Klink, who had put his monocle back into place, stopped and found the strength to grin. Hogan, confused as to why Klink had stopped talking, looked questioningly up at him and saw the broad smirk on his German counterpart's face.
"What is it?" he asked warily; hoping that Klink hadn't done something stupid, too.
The Oberst's expression turned into pride and triumph.
"Your dry comment about Lübkemeier's distrust concerning the general's and Himmler's honesty gave me a splendid idea, Rob. I called Burkhalter and complained about the Third Reich's beginning fall if inferiors like Lübkemeier start to doubt the honor and intelligence of our country's highest ranking leading men by examining their statements in person – means, tearing one of my barracks apart because a mere boy irritated the Kriminalrat. And I also told Burkhalter about the other comments Lübkemeier and his fellows made which showed that they don't believe their own superiors. I reminded Burkhalter that you and my camp were declared as 'clear' from him and Himmler, but Lübkemeier doubts their sagacity, which is more than an affront."
The colonel stared at him; impressed. "Let me guess: Burkhalter informed his 'good friend' Himmler, who was instantly offended and called Lübkemeier off."
The Oberst couldn't help himself. He bounced on the balls of his feet again, cocked his head, smiled proudly and made the typical nasal sound Hogan hadn't heard for two weeks. "Himmler himself called a few minutes later and – sweet Lord – did he sound furious. He asked me what exactly happened, and after I gave him a short report that was absolutely correct but, let us say, left out a few details, he demanded to speak with Lübkemeier instantly." He chuckled. "The 'highly esteemed' Herr Kriminalrat came back shortly after, pale like a tablecloth, and ended the whole inspection. Your men are trying to put everything back in order at the moment."
Hogan blinked a few times – and began to laugh, before he beamed at his German counterpart, "Willie, you're really a genius sometimes."
"Only sometimes?" Klink teased, then he turned serious again, while he pulled his scarf and the gloves out of the dresser. "Like I said: You're a good teacher. And maybe you should teach the boy a lesson about when it is better to grit one's teeth and keep one's mouth shut. Lübkemeier is furious after Himmler gave him an ear-full. He doesn't show it on the outside, but he has turned into an ice-block. And Schmidt had already warned me days ago that von Neuhaus had put the knives outside for me because I took care his beloved superior Hochstetter was sent to trial. We really don't need more trouble than we already have because one of your men is cheekier than usual."
Hogan glared up at the ceiling. Carter should be ready for the high jump. "Kommandant," he said, which instantly woke Klink's attention. Hogan used to call him 'Will', 'Willie' or 'Wilhelm' in private for days now. To be addressed formally now showed that this was about duty.
"Yes?" the Oberst asked, while wrapping the scarf around his neck.
"Would you please inform Schultz that I've to speak with Carter?"
Klink nodded with a grim smirk. "Of course – and give the boy a verbal slap from me, too." Then he vanished…
TBC…
Well, this was a near miss. Carter is always good for causing some trouble, but Newkirk and LeBeau aren't this much better (*smile*). And even Kinchloe, who more the circumspectly guy, has his moments in which he acts unreasonable. In this case understandable, after all he really was offended and also had to stand up for a friend, yet he did himself and the others a disservice.
I also hope that Klink's reaction finds your agreement. In my eyes he isn't someone who justifies a person by heritage (race), and as such a man he chose his arguments to get Lübkemeier down a peck or two. Yet he had to be carefully not to speak too openly against the regime's regards, and therefore he emphasized Kinchloe as a well-trained and schooled individual who is a big exception. His own opinion differs from this, because he has come to respect Kinch a great deal.
Von Neuhaus is the nasty boo-man again – and his clashing with Klink will lead to something very gravely, but more of this later.
In the next chapter, Klink is the 'scout' for Lübkemeier & Co., he and Hogan will talk about Will's opinion concerning other races, Schmidt covering for LeBeau and warning our dear colonel. Of course both will realize that there is more to Schmidt that it seemed. Then Hogan realizes even more how much he is used to have 'Willie' around and how strong he misses him, when he isn't there. And then Klink meets someone he has no good memories to – one of his former kidnappers in the 'Nimrod'-affair. And said someone recognizes him, too…
I hope, you liked the new chapter and that the whole 'nasty Gestapo' vs. 'witty Heroes' that is so typical for 'Hogan's Heroes' came over well. Like always I'm curious about your reactions.
Have a nice rest of the week,
Love
Yours Starflight
TBC…
