Hi, my dear readers!
As it seems, Monday is the new day for updates (*snicker*), and I hope you're already curious about the new chapter.
The trouble with Lübkemeier isn't over and poor Klink has to pay for his standing up for Hogan and his men. Yet exactly this circumstance will lead to a possibility to distract the Gestapo, because Klink is going to meet someone of whom he knows that said someone belongs to the Underground, and he takes the given chance.
But as hard and unpleasant it is for him of being the 'scout' for Lübkemeier and the others, as warm, cozy and pleasant are the evenings, because Hogan shows that he really care about his German counterpart. And the tensions between the two men will even increase…
So, have fun with the new chapter,
Thank you for the feedback I got for the last one,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 32 – Hard days
Carter got an ear-full from Hogan – a very big ear-full, so to say. Kinchloe, who had accompanied Andrew, told his friend and superior how it had all gone down and admitted that he, James, had also given the Kriminalrat some fitting answers. The colonel was anything but happy about it. Of course, he could understand his two friends, yet gaining so much of the investigation team's attention and irritating a high ranking Gestapo-officer hadn't been very wise. They were all walking on thin ice here – thin ice that could break any moment – and holding the ball low was necessary to their survival.
Andrew was the living example of guilt, and Kinchloe stepped into the breach for him; telling Hogan that Carter had only been driven to taunting the Kriminalrat back because of the Kriminalrat's own offensive remarks. He also related Klink's little speech afterwards to his superior; still impressed that the German officer obviously didn't discriminate against people with different skin-colors.
Hogan only smiled. Somehow he had guessed that Klink didn't belong to the people who had a racist attitude, even if he'd made some rude comments about 'Kinch's people'. Both, the colonel and Kinchloe, took those remarks for what they were: A charade to cover Klink's real views, which had been dangerous in Nazi-Germany for years now.
After the talk Carter trotted away like a rebuked schoolboy, but of course he knew that Hogan and Kinch were right. It had been stupid, but he had been so angry…
Kinchloe had in the meantime also learned from LeBeau (and Newkirk) that the Frenchman had been recognized as the 'escaped POW' by Schmidt and that the Oberleutnant had stayed quiet about it. As he told Hogan about it, the colonel became very thoughtful. As it seemed, the young German had his own agenda; maybe one that went against the regime. If they could win him as an ally, they would gain a lot of advantages, because at the moment they had no 'eyes and ears' in the Gestapo-Headquarters in Hammelburg. But they had to be very careful, and Hogan decided to get Klink on board for it.
*** HH *** HH ***
The rest of the day went by uneventfully – at least for Hogan. While his men were putting the barracks back into order, Schultz was again fighting with the paper-work, many POWs were battling with the snow and even the guards yearned for the end of their shifts. Klink wasn't so fortunate to grapple with usual work, though.
Playing 'scout' for Lübkemeier and the others was both tiresome and frustrating. He had stayed in the icy snow and wind for three hours while the Gestapo were examining the derailed train. The wreckage and debris of the destroyed Messerschmitt-wings were spread in a wide range and had damaged not only parts of the forest's edge, but also the road that led from Poppenhausen to Bad Kissingen via Oerlenbach and Arnshausen – both these villages were very near the place of the sabotage. The railway was practically non-existent on a length of a few hundred meters. The loco had been forced out of the rails but had at least remained standing, just like the coal-carrier that was sans any freight by now. Therefore dozens of foot prints were visible around the coal-carrier, footprints vanishing on the road where they were lost in the tire tracks.
Obviously a lot of people had taken advantage of the chance fate had offered them and had stocked up material for their furnaces – something Klink couldn't blame them for, just like Schmidt. Von Neuhaus made some disgusting comments about 'thieves within their own line', while Lübkemeier pointed out that they weren't here to catch some coal-thieves. He knew how big the hardship was for the people by now, and he saw no reason to investigate in this direction. His whole concern was the sabotage – and the destroyed railway. As it seemed, all trains between the south and the north-east of Germany would have to take another route from now on. This railway had been the last connection between Schweinfurt and the frontier to Thüringen – after all, the railway in the north of Hammelburg had already been made unusable because of Papa Bear's deed last December.
They checked the cart-tracks and the two small paths which ran between the two small villages, but there weren't many tracks to be found. The snow that had been falling within the last hours had covered almost everything.
And Klink added even more oil to the fire as he commented that they might have found more tracks before the snow eliminated everything if they would have started the investigation here sooner – meaning, if Lübkemeier would have believed his own superior and had skipped messing with Klink's camp and his prisoners. Schmidt held his face expressionless, but inside he was deeply amused, but also impressed. There weren't many people – officers or not – who would dare to irritate a high ranking Gestapo-member. Either Klink was nuts or very, very brave. Schmidt didn't know which one really fitted the Oberst – he assumed both – but the way the Stalag-Kommandant acted showed the young man that Klink didn't give a damn about the Kriminalrat's and his assistants' mood.
They began questioning people in Oerlenbach, through which the railway ran just a few kilometers before the site the sabotage had occurred. The next villages would be Eltinghausen and Arnshausen – after all, all three localities were in visible range of the spot where the detonations happened. Lübkemeier also planned to ask the people living in the handful of houses called Wirmsthal and Ramsthal. Both small villages lay more in the west in the direction of Hammelburg, at the other side of the woods which adjoined the railway. The chance to find someone there who had seen something was small, but Lübkemeier wouldn't take any risk of missing valuable information.
They trotted through the streets and quarters of Oerlenbach that were closest to the railway and practically rang the bell at every house. But no-one seemed to have seen anything extraordinary. The train had passed through like so many others, that was all.
In Eltinghausen they had no luck, too. Almost the same went for Arnshausen, where at least they got some statements from a few children who had been out in the fields to play in the snow. They told them that they had seen men in black uniforms an hour or so before a large detonation had made them run back to their homes.
"My, my, this sounds bad for the SS," Klink murmured, while he watched the door of a small house being closed after the two boys and their mother had said everything they knew.
Lübkemeier whirled around. "You don't think that this was really the deed of the SS, do you?"
"Black uniforms. As far as I know the Allies don't have bl…"
"KLINK! That saboteurs are wearing different uniforms to cover their true identity and to avoid drawing the attention of eventual witnesses is a common trick even you should consider!"
"Of course this is nothing new, I only ask myself how the saboteurs were able to get a hold of SS-uniforms. Maybe you should start your search with this detail," the Saxonian officer replied nonchalantly, before he straightened his shape. "And it's OBERST Klink for you, Herr Kriminalrat."
A low growl was the only answer, then the men continued going from house to house.
As evening came, every man's mood had gone down the toilet. The three Gestapo-officers were more than frustrated since they had gotten many hints, but nothing detailed or something they could work with. Von Neuhaus was boiling with anger because of the many verbal stingers Klink had thrown, Schmidt was simply tired and Klink… Well, he was beyond tired. Yes, he had overcome his bronchitis, but the rest of the symptoms were still there and had increased during the afternoon. And above all he hadn't eaten since early breakfast. All restaurants and inns were closed, because there wasn't enough nourishment to sell anymore – and even if some inns should have something to sell, the Reichsmark was as good as nothing by now. The three Gestapo-officers had brought some bread and water with them, but Klink hadn't thought about packing lunch and the same went for von Neuhaus, Schmidt and the other members of the SS. Therefore they were all hungry.
As Lübkemeier finally called it off for the day, Klink felt more than miserable. He was cold, tired, he felt starved, his left calf that had been healing very well hurt again, his feet were like ice and he had had to cough again here and there. Because even the Hausener Hof in Hammelburg was closed now just like all other hotels, Schmidt had no other choice than to offer Lübkemeier and his men a place to stay at the HQ, and because they had taken Klink with them in one of their cars, Schmidt ordered that first the Oberst was to be brought back to Stalag 13 before they would head to Hammelburg.
It was almost seven in the evening as Klink stepped out of the car within his camp, wished the 'gentlemen' a good night, gave Schmidt a short smile of gratitude and was about to close the door, as Lübkemeier informed him that the Oberst would be picked up in the morning again. Any protest that Klink had about running a POW-camp with almost 1000 POWs met deaf ears. It was more than obvious that the Kriminalrat was well aware of Klink's current condition – after all the Kommandant was limping again by now – but Lübkemeier gave no reprieve. Rather the opposite. He took pleasure in making the Luftwaffe-officer more miserable than he already felt.
Grousing and in a foul mood, Klink walked over the compound; cursing the Gestapo and his calf. Schultz, who had come out of the Kommandantur, expended a lot of effort in catching up with him. One look at his superior's face and Schultz knew that it was better to cut everything short and skip any questions concerning the morning's happenings. He had been informed by Hogan enough to know what was going on by now. So he simply gave Klink a quick report of the evening roll call (all POWs were present, of course) and that nothing special had happened during the Oberst's absence.
Klink only nodded, thanked Schultz brusquely, bid him a good night and vanished to his quarters. He knew that there wouldn't be a warm meal for him today; warm food was only served during lunch, dinner was always made of bread and topping. So it took him by utter surprise as he stepped into the small building and smelled something very delicious coming from the kitchen. The dining table was set up for two and even a candle was lightened. The furnace radiated with comfortable warmth and all smaller lamps were switched on instead of the large ceiling light, bathing the whole room in golden shine.
It was like coming home – to a real home for once.
Baffled, Klink stopped dead in his tracks – looking around with large eyes. A movement at the kitchen-door woke his attention and his glance found a beaming LeBeau. "Good evening, Colonel Klink," the tiny Frenchman said. "You're just in time for dinner. I'll serve everything in five minutes." He vanished again, and Klink – still thunderstruck – walked to the kitchen.
"Warm dinner?" he asked; feeling an irritation in his throat and coughing.
LeBeau – in apron and cooking hat – looked over his shoulder. "Mon colonel insisted that you two have a warm dinner when you're back. He meant you're going to need it – and I've to agree. You look terrible." He pointed outside; almost sounding like a father. "Strip off your coat and get ready for dinner. I'll bring you and mon colonel some tea in a few." Whistling, he began to fill a kettle with water to prepare some tea.
Klink watched him for a moment; feeling a wave of gratefulness and warmth. He had only gotten a small taste before of how it was to be a part of a group that took care of each other, and this here was another example. "Thank you, LeBeau," he said quietly and meant it.
Louis shot him another grin and 'fought' with pan and pot, while Klink went to his usual sleeping chamber. Hogan was about to rise, but stopped in his movements as he saw his German counterpart.
"Hey," he greeted gently and anything but properly concerning his and Klink's position, but the Oberst didn't care. As long as they were here in this little world and more or less alone, formalities were unnecessary.
"Good evening," Klink answered, while stripping off his gloves and unbuttoning his coat, which he threw over the armchair. "Thank you for waiting with the warm meal for me."
"It's the least I can do," Hogan shrugged, while he carefully put his feet over the bed's edge and rose into a sitting position. His brown eyes observed the older man closely. "You look…"
"…terrible, I know. And I also feel this way." He sighed, while he sat down on the arm-chair (and down on the coat; not caring that he would be putting some more crinkles into the material) and began to pull off the scarf and his wet boots.
He couldn't help but complain about the whole day 'out in the wilderness', his hurting calf, being cold and hungry, while he also stripped off his wet socks and rose to get fresh, dry ones. He met Hogan's gaze, which was full of sympathy. In earlier times there had often been mockery hidden in the American's glances whenever Klink had groused about too much paperwork, too much this, too much that – but not anymore. Robert's eyes spoke of understanding and compassion – and it did wonders to the older man's spirit, who stopped in front of him.
Continuing to simply look at each other, Klink took new strength from the care Hogan showed, while the American colonel felt the sudden urge to offer real comfort by taking 'Willie' in his arms. Again! And he wasn't even shocked about this impulse; only the inner wish of close proximity to calm down the other began to count. He reached out and laid one hand on Klink's arm; his thumb moved in soothing circles.
And for a moment time seemed to stand still, while they held each other's gaze – almost drowning in the other one's eyes. Warmth spread through the room – a warmth that increased with every second that went by until the air seemed to be hot like the midday sun in summer. Both men felt their pulse rising and…
"If the colonels are done drooling over each other, they can come to dinner," LeBeau's almost bugged voice tore the two out of the peaceful yet somehow tensing up situation.
Startled, Klink turned around quickly, while Hogan snatched his hand back; flushing red. LeBeau stood at the threshold, grimaced at them and shook his head in admonition. "Really, Messieurs, a guy could get the wrong idea here if he watches you acting like this."
Without another thought, Robert took one of the pillows and hurled it into Louis' direction, who quickly moved aside and began laughing.
"OUT!" Hogan all but hollered, which made LeBeau laugh even more.
"Don't forget to wash your hands, boys!" he called over his shoulder before heading back to the kitchen.
"'Boys'?" the colonel repeated. "You're hanging out with Carter too much," he yelled – and had to cough.
Klink chuckled, while he felt his mood lifting even more. "You really have your hands full with your men, don't you?"
Hogan took a deep breath to calm his throat. "Men? You mean kids!" he deadpanned hoarsely – and Klink had to laugh, too.
*** HH ***
Dinner was nice, even if Klink almost wolfed everything down – not giving a damn about table manners for once. Hogan watched him with sympathy and even offered the older man something from his own plate; declaring that he wasn't this hungry. He had stayed in bed most of the day and even if his body was still healing he didn't have much need to regain his strength by taking nourishment like Klink did after being in the icy cold for hours. Yet the Oberst first wanted to decline the offer, but gave in as Hogan said he would have to then return it to the kitchen. Both men knew that this was only a half-truth, but in the end Klink took the offer and emptied the rest of Hogan's plate, too.
The hot tea LeBeau had made for them warmed the Kommandant and helped him get rid of his irritated throat. Afterwards LeBeau cleaned the table (and the kitchen), wished both officers a good night – warning them 'to behave', which earned him another sharp comment from Hogan – and vanished with a broad grin.
He still thought that he was only teasing his superior with those ambiguous comments, yet there was a certain tension between the two officers he hadn't witnessed ever before. If he didn't know better, he'd swear there had been sparks flying around them. LeBeau frowned and put the idea off. There was no way on Earth that Hogan would see something else in Klink than a kind of friend. The mere thought was laughable, after all the colonel's reputation as a lady's man was well known and the same went for Klink, even if the German officer had a success rate of zero concerning women. Yet there had been something… Something that had lasted even during dinner, and LeBeau wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was for real.
Stepping out into the cold he looked around before he headed for his barracks. It was past curfew but the guards outside knew that the French POW had cooked for the two officers and only watched him warily until he vanished inside Barracks 2. Then silence spread over the compound.
Inside Klink's quarters, Hogan – who had decided to ignore LeBeau's jokes – told his German counterpart about the talk he'd had with Kinchloe and Carter; thanking Klink for standing up for them.
"It was not much I could do," the Oberst shrugged. "Not if I didn't want to wake even more suspicions within Lübkemeier. That I got furious after what von Neuhaus did to you triggered the Kriminalrat's wariness – and then I gave him a piece of my mind as he referred to Sergeant Kinchloe as an 'it'. I had to control myself yet couldn't help but have to get Lübkemeier down a peck or two. However, I regret that I had to make some arrogant racist comments about Germans being the 'master-race' and Kinchloe's 'people', but…"
"Kinch and the others took your comments as what they were meant: A cover to mask your real point of view," Hogan interrupted him softly. "There are not many men who would dare do what you did."
"My grandmother, who was very religious, taught me that all people are the Lord's children." Klink sighed. "Our regime thinks it has all rights on Earth to begin this war and fight it to the bitter end because our people are 'better' and 'greater' – the 'master-race' that should rule the world. And yet I wouldn't bury even one of the brass or Hitler himself to the feet of other men and women, who are called 'lower beings', but in truth are thousand times better people than those nuisances will ever be. Sergeant Kinchloe is a fine and highly intelligent man – gentle, polite and counterbalancing with a touch of dry humor. Or take Sergeant Baker as another example. He is a fine man, too. A little bit quieter than Kinchloe, but he has a bright mind. Both men are black, but I cannot regard them as 'lower beings' only because God gave them another color than us. They love, laugh, fear, hate and weep like we do – because we're all one human race, only from different continents. I have no problems with them looking different, having other traditions or following other religious beliefs, but this point of view alone makes me a traitor in this country that was once famous for its manifold nature."
Hogan had listened closely and was again surprised by the depths of his German counterpart's thoughts. "Your mindset is rare, even among many of us Americans. I… witnessed racism within our army often enough and utterly disagree with it, yet I can't deny that there are a lot of flyers and officers who think of different-colored men within the Army just like your brass does."
Klink smiled softly. "That you make no distinction due to the men's heritage is something I realized soon after Kinchloe's arrival. I saw you and him talking in the yard and heard the sergeant laughing, while you grinned at him and slapped him comradely on the shoulder – you, an officer of higher rank. And your behavior towards Kinchloe was and still is no exception. I've often enough witnessed how the other POWs look up to you, smile at you and show more than the demanded respect. You seem to have a kind word for everyone – from the simple soldier to non-commissioned officers, like Newkirk or LeBeau. And you did it from the beginning. It was the first time I had ever seen an officer acting not stiffly and arrogantly but warmly and kindly, yet you become stern whenever necessary and they respect you for it, too. It was and still is something I'd hoped to experience for my own one day, but it's impossible in the German army, regardless of regime. We only know harshness; anything else is regarded as weakness."
"Believe me, the latter goes for many officers within the other armies, too," Hogan said quietly. "And I'm sure that several of my superiors would be inwardly outraged if they learn of my way of acting towards 'lower' people – a term that in their eyes not only includes 'colored' people, but also simple soldiers. But since my teen years I've experienced what it means to be treated in a lofty manner – it was one of the reasons I rebelled in my own way. And knowing how shitty you feel if you're confronted with the prejudice and arrogance of others, I try to avoid making the same mistake. No one is better or not because of their heritage. It's what we do or don't do that makes us the men or women we are."
Klink smiled shortly. "Yeah, exactly my opinion, yet recent history shows that we haven't learned about tolerance at all. I'm an officer who worked hard to get his rank. There were no benefits because of influential friends or other supporters who helped me become an Oberst. Yet most other higher ranking officers look down on me like I'm a disease. And they act even worse around the simple soldiers. Before and during the first war, it was no miracle that the soldiers spoke of 'the officers' like their superiors were demons or would spread pestilence through them. You only could visit a military academy if you were a nobleman, and as such the officers acted towards the soldiers as if they were inferior. After the November-Revolution in North-Germany that ended the first war, officers had to learn that they aren't those 'gods' anymore and that they had to arrange themselves with the 'simple' people. The first democracy was developed but it went down the hill because the parties not only fought each other, but also quarreled among themselves. I know of what I speak. I entered the SPD shortly after it was founded, because even if I was already an officer with the correct Academy-graduation, I always thought differently than the rest of my comrades. I wanted to change our country to something better." He took a deep breath and lowered his head.
"And then came Hitler," Hogan murmured.
"Yeah, then the little Austrian came. Germany was estranging itself. Communists, socialists and capitalists were trying to be in charge, the high repudiation costs from the first war were nailing us at the wall, and the number of people unemployed was rising from month to month. Germany was drowning in chaos – and then came Hitler. At first he overdid it and was sentenced to jail for attempted sedition. He wrote 'Mein Kampf' while in prison – and then he returned."
"Hitler had been arrested for incitement of the people, but was able to become your leader in the end?" Hogan asked; thunderstruck.
Klink snorted. "Ja. He had a way to get what he wants – by simply saying what the people want to hear and weaving his net in the background. First we all thought that he was our savior. Thousands of new jobs, the economy was blooming again, the quarreling parties had to do their real job for once and we'd something to believe in again." He grimaced. "And then he showed his true face. Not at once, but little by little, while he built up his strategy. As those who didn't share his opinions realized his true intentions it was too late." He shook his head in disbelief. "We both spoke of the racism the Nazis display. Well, I was a spectator of the Olympic Games in 1939. I remember that Hitler demonstratively left the arena as a dark-skinned runner won the foot-race. I couldn't understand his reaction, because the runner was really impressive. Yet I quickly learned to keep my mouth shut – like so many others did. Today I think that we all supported Hitler by staying silent instead of speaking our mind. Maybe we could have stopped him in time."
"Maybe – maybe not. He played his game very well. I've to give him this," Hogan said quietly. "But it's not too late to stop him now. And for this we've to give our best."
Klink smiled shortly. "That brings me to your last mission. Your men really did a big job. I've never seen the outcome of one of your sabotages shortly after the deed except for the bridge you blew up last year while making this movie with Burkhalter as the trigger of the explosion." He chuckled; thinking back once again at the general's outburst afterwards and his frustration that he wouldn't be able to give Berlin a correct report about the incident without facing harsh consequences. "I never thought that such a large cargo and so many wagons could be torn into pieces like this," he continued. "And the railway – it's practically non-existent on a length of almost two or three hundred meters, and the nearby road is blocked by the wagons and torn wings which had been hurled away."
"Good," Hogan nodded, while sipping at his second cup of tea. "This gives the Gestapo a lot to investigate."
"Ja – with me as their scout," the Oberst almost pouted. "At least Schmidt accompanied us. The boy is the only agreeable guy in this whole bunch of paranoid fanatics!"
Hogan snickered, then he frowned. "Apropos Schmidt: Shortly before you and the Gestapo arrived this morning, he was here to warn me."
Klink was about to rise to get them a cognac, but now he stood frozen within the movement – jaw agape. "What?" he asked, flabbergasted.
His American counterpart nodded. "Yes. A few minutes before you came, he crept into your quarters and warned me of the Gestapo's arrival and that 'a Kriminalrat Lübkemeier from Berlin' would ask me unpleasant questions because of an assault that had taken place not far from here."
This time it was the Kommandant who frowned. "Why should he do something like this? Right, he already told me that he doesn't agree with the Gestapo's and SS' methods, but…"
"That was the reason he mentioned as I asked him the same question. He said that what had been done to me was wrong and that he doesn't want a repeat. And, what's even more important, he asked for a back-door as he saw you and the others coming through the window."
Klink pursed his lips. "So, he fears something," he pondered.
"Obviously. I think he worries about von Neuhaus backstabbing him because he was chosen as the new CO, not von Neuhaus. And one thing more. I… reacted on reflex as I opened my eyes and saw a black uniform. Schmidt concluded that I'm healthier than it seems. He advised me to stay calm and to suppress any hasty movements so that Lübkemeier doesn't get the wrong – or better to say – right idea about my real condition." He sighed. "And what really confuses me: He recognized LeBeau being the POW who escaped the camp and informed you about my fate. LeBeau and he saw each other on the street in front of the Gestapo-HQ, and given Louis' unique, tiny figure, Schmidt recognized him here in the camp. But he didn't take any actions against LeBeau; rather the contrary. Newkirk told Kinch that Schmidt gave our cook the advice to not make it a habit of leaving the camp, and afterwards – during the investigation – Schmidt pretended not to know LeBeau; obviously to protect him against any punishments. He covered for him – and this gives me second thoughts."
Klink rubbed his chin. "This is interesting. He knows more than he reveals and keeps secrets from his men. So there are only two reasons for his doing so: He wants to use his knowledge to his own advantage and is waiting for the best time, or he is against this whole madness within this land like you and me, and tries to fight it in his own way."
Hogan made an affirming gesture. "Maybe you can find out more when you're playing scout tomorrow again. If the Lieutenant – Oberleutnant – is out to gain himself some more stripes for his uniform, we all are at stake. If he really holds honor and goodness in a higher regard than the typical executive power of the Third Reich and his heart beats for a brighter future, we could win a valuable ally."
Sighing, the Oberst stemmed one elbow on the table surface and laid his chin in his hand. "So we've to check him through. And you trust me with this task?"
Klink felt his heart beat quickening, as he received a warm, gentle smile from Robert. "In earlier times I wouldn't have entrusted you with something like this. You played your role of ignorance and incomprehension well. Today I know that you look through people very well and that your life-experiences equal a psychology degree. If someone can probe a man, then it's you. Don't forget, even I was fooled by you."
"Just like you fooled me a lot, too. Just think of Carter playing Hitler," Klink grumbled. "All right, I'll try to learn more about our young former Abwehr-Leutnant. Usually I don't let one of the SS or Gestapo near me, but Schmidt was likable from the beginning, and…"
"More likeable than I am?" Hogan half joked, half pouted – and Klink felt the sudden urge to snicker.
"Robert, the moment you stepped through the door of my office I knew that you would be trouble – yet I liked you from the beginning. And this is a position no-one will contest for. So don't be jealous." He rose to get them a cognac – and Hogan felt a little devil peeking over his shoulder, as he murmured loud enough to be heard,
"I do know that I hold a special place in your heart – yet a guy can ask, can't he?"
Klink stopped dead within his tracks, turned around, gaped at the younger man – who flashed him an impish grin – felt his cheeks heating up like a kettle and stuttered, "Y-y-y-you… rascal!"
Hogan grinned at him, while he leant back again. "And you love me for it," he teased.
The older man stared down at him; fighting the sudden, almost overwhelming, urge to kiss his American counterpart. 'You've no idea how much!' he thought, before he finally went to the other table to get the two cognacs.
*** HH ***
The Gestapo was well-known for nasty surprises and after Lübkemeier had shown his dislike for Klink the whole day after that morning's mess, the Oberst expected some trouble – maybe even during the night, just to anger him. And because he didn't really trust his guards to alert him before some leather- or black-clad men would storm into his quarters, the Kommandant decided to sleep in the guest-room this night.
It shouldn't have surprised them, but both colonels had a rather unsettled night despite Klink's tiredness. Both were used to sleeping side by side – to sensing the other one's closeness even in sleep. The lack of proximity held them both awake over and over again during short sleeping periods their bodies demanded.
Hogan was irritated with himself. Sweet Lord, this was crazy. Yes, Klink wasn't asleep beside him, and what? Where was the problem? When he would return to Barracks 2 he would sleep completely alone in his own little chamber 'til the end of the war, so no big deal here. Yet he couldn't find any real rest. He simply missed the older man – missed hearing Will's soft breath or feeling those long arms around him.
A few meters away in the other room, Klink likewise suffered. The anxiety of some eventual trouble from Lübkemeier's side, and Robert's missing presence beside him made him roll from one side to the other and back again. And when he found some sleep, crazy and dark dreams haunted him.
Groggily, he rose early in the morning and crept to the bathroom. He wasn't really surprised to find Hogan already awake, too.
"Slept well?" he asked.
The colonel slowly shook his head. "No, not really," he answered truthfully. 'I missed you,' the unwelcome voice in his mind whispered and he groaned soundlessly. "And you?"
"Me neither," Klink grumbled. "Stupid Gestapo! Next night I'm sleeping here again and if they think they can barge into my quarters, then…" He frowned. "I will order Schultz to install a bolt at the front-door. Then they have to knock very loudly to get my attention, which will wake me up and then we can still pretend that we two sleep in separate rooms." He nodded determinedly to himself and went into the bathroom.
Hogan sighed and closed his eyes. That 'Willie' missed them sleeping together in one bed was understandable given his feelings for his American counterpart, but Robert could only shake his head about himself sharing Klink's feelings on that matter. Dammit, in one or two weeks he would certainly have to return to Barracks 2, and then their sleeping arrangement would find its end. Better to get used to sleeping alone again. Only – he didn't want to. He couldn't deny the fact that last night without the older man beside him had been… cold, lonely and uncomfortable. And he really didn't look forward to a repeat.
The only thing that raised his mood later in the morning was Wilson telling him that the last stitches could finally be removed. It was unpleasant – hell, it even hurt here and there – but the prospect of being able to take a shower made it up for Hogan.
Half an hour later he came out of the bathroom – showered, shaved, with washed hair, wearing his own fresh pajama and with a very large beaming smile on his face. "I feel reborn," he announced; ignoring the fact that several parts of his body still stung, throbbed or otherwise pained him.
Wilson chuckled. "Yes, I think so. Yet I've to douse your mood. Please strip off the top. We've to carefully rub the antibiotic ointment on your healing back wounds, and afterwards I've to re-do the bandages."
Hogan groaned. "Is this really necessary?"
"Have you seen this part of your left rib-cage?"
"Yeah, it's dark because of the broken ribs."
"And you don't want them to shift and pierce your lungs, do you?" He helped Hogan out of the pajama top. "By the way, what if these Gestapo-dudes show up here again and find you sans bandages, Colonel?"
The officer stared at him. "Don't tell me that you will also re-do the bandage around my head!"
"Your still bad condition would look far more convincing if you're patched up," Joe shrugged. "As long as these bastards are sniffing around here, we've to be careful. And Klink will certainly grant you some more time here if you're still too injured to move back to your own quarters. And he also won't be able to tell the Gestapo anything different, because he thinks you're still…"
"Klink won't say anything that would endanger the boys and me – not now or ever." As he caught Wilson's questioning glance, he murmured, "He knows about us."
"WHAT?" Joe stilled within his doing; flabbergasted. He couldn't believe his ears, and Hogan smiled softly for a moment.
"He's known for over two years now and has covered for us the whole time. Why, do you think, did he make all those silly surprise roll calls in the two days before we sabotaged the railway?"
"That… was your men?" Wilson asked disbelievingly. "The whole reason the Gestapo turned the camp upside-down? And what has Klink have to do with it?"
The colonel smirked. "Easy, he made the roll calls to prepare the perfect alibi for Newkirk and Carter. The long speech about the 'impossible condition of his men's uniforms' was to distract them, while Newkirk and Carter left the camp to sabotage the railway. Klink made the last surprise roll call exactly a few minutes before the detonation went off. Coincidence? No, knowledge. He was informed about everything and did more than simply cover for us this time."
Wilson stared at him – and promptly sat down on the bed's edge. "Klink… is on our side?"
"Yes. Without him the operation would have been revealed last year at the latest. He stalled for time for my men and me, distracted the authorities and sent Hochstetter, the SS and the Gestapo on wild-goose-hunts to keep us safe. He even lied to Burkhalter." He took a deep breath. "I know that the men are still angry that he chased them out of the warm barracks for surprise roll calls within the last days, but everything was done to make the alibi more believable to Berlin. It was a clever move. Me being restricted to a sick-bed with a lot of still healing bad injuries and the roll call in the afternoon the day before yesterday convinced Berlin that I cannot be Papa Bear, like Hochstetter accused me of being during his questioning. We're finally off the hook – and Klink is paying the price for it, being forced to play now scout for the Gestapo despite his calf hurting anew and being out in the cold while he is still suffering the remnants of his almost healed bronchitis."
Wilson groaned, rubbed his face, shook his head, snorted, grimaced and rose again. "You really took me by surprise with these news, sir." He grinned and snorted. "Who'd have ever thought…" He shook his head and regained control. With new mildness on his face, he looked at his superior. "When the Oberst is back, I'm coming over and checking on him." He took the small canister with the ointment. "And now, please turn around, sir."
Sighing, Hogan obeyed…
*** HH *** HH ***
Klink walked down the pavement in the tiny village of Ramsthal. It was afternoon and he felt more tired and irritated than rarely before. With narrowed eyes he looked at Lübkemeier, who seemed to be determined to question every living soul in the area – without any real results. At least Klink had taken a lunch-package with him this time and he could eat something during midday as they drove from Ebenhausen, that lay in the south of Oerlenbach, to Ramsthal, yet he was miserable again but masked it with a frozen smile on his lips and a false good mood.
Von Neuhaus seemed to be irritated that he, Klink, didn't complain or try to sneak out of the situation, while Schmidt gave the Oberst glances of sympathy here and there. It really was unnecessary for the Luftwaffe-officer to accompany them again. The charts Klink had provided them with were detailed enough to let them find their way alone, but Lübkemeier drew pleasure from messing the Kommandant's day up again – even despite the fact that Klink was limping more and more.
The Kriminalrat had asked the Oberst about his 'clumsy way of walking all of a sudden', to which Klink had answered with a cool, "The result of a shooting wound I received while doing Hochstetter's duty during an ambush of Allied air fighters." More he hadn't said, but Lübkemeier had ceased any mention of it again since then. But Klink couldn't deny that his leg was really giving him problems by now.
At least, the wind had stopped from blowing so mercilessly down on Earth and even the snow fall had lessened, yet it was still cold and uncomfortable outside.
They only met a few people, and Klink again didn't miss that almost all of them looked with anxiety and nervousness at Lübkemeier and the others. 'How sick and twisted must a country become that its own people are afraid of uniformed men,' he thought with a shudder.
Then his attention was driven to a woman who was walking along the pavement on the other side of the street. She was a younger lady with shoulder-length brown hair and… And he knew her!
For a moment he was back in those wine-cellars approx. three months ago, as he had been mistaken for Burkhalter and had been kidnapped by the Underground to be traded against one of their most important leaders, Hans Wagner. This woman had been there, too – demanding that he be shot as the kidnappers realized their error. He had really undergone icy mortal fear then, and even if he had been traded at the end – because somehow Burkhalter and Hochstetter had for an hour or so believed that he was the master-spy Nimrod – he had had nightmares for days afterwards.
He pressed his lips into a thin line and watched the young woman, who looked over at him and the others – and paled dramatically as her eyes fell on him. Hastily, she looked away again and lowered her head, but it was too late. She had recognized him, just like she herself had been recognized – and Klink was still furious over what had happened that day. He was very aware of the fact that he couldn't really confront her without giving her identity away and therefore endangering the Underground and maybe even Hogan and his men, yet he wouldn't let this chance pass.
Without saying something to Lübkemeier and the others, who walked in front of him, he simply crossed the street and stepped into the woman's way. She glanced up again – and a hue of panic appeared in her eyes.
"Good afternoon, Ma'am," he said; tipping his cap in a short salute. "I think we've already met."
Her quick breath was visible by the smog in front of her lips, as she replied hoarsely, "You're certainly mistaken, sir."
"I don't think so," he replied. "Is the wine empty in the cellar or are you out for a little kidnapping again?"
All color had drained from her face. "I-I-I-I don't know what you're talking of," she whispered.
Hard steps drew nearer and Klink didn't need to turn around to know that Lübkemeier was heading towards them. The woman saw the man in the long leather-coat approaching and began to sway. Klink steadied her by grasping her elbow. "Easy there, Ma'am. You really shouldn't be out in the cold in your unhealthy condition," he rebuked her with phony concern.
The Gestapo-officer stopped beside them and shortly bowed his head in a polite manner. "Ma'am, I think you belong to the people here I haven't asked a few questions until now. Kriminalrat Lübkemeier from Berlin," he introduced himself. "And you are?"
"Ilse… Vormann," she replied; her hands shook.
It didn't slip Lübkemeier's attention. He was used to many people reacting to his presence with fear, but this here was more. "What's the matter, Ma'am?" he asked, vigilant.
"The lady is on her way to the next pharmacy, but I think she overestimated herself," Klink lied with new-found smoothness. "I saw her stumbling and offered some help." He shortly looked at her face. "Obviously she sports a fever and I also heard her cough."
Lübkemeier glanced at him, then back at the woman, took in her pale face with the red cheeks (a result of the bitter cold), the wide dark eyes and heard her shallow breathing. "You really don't look well, Ma'am. Oberst Klink, maybe you should accompany the lady to the pharmacy down the street so that she reaches it safely. And you can, on the way there, ask her if she saw something that could be useful for us. We're continuing our way so you can catch up with us again."
"A pleasure, Herr Kriminalrat," Klink replied and offered the woman his arm. "Shall we?"
Ilse was completely bewildered by now. Of course she had instantly recognized Klink – the monocle alone gave him away, not to speak of his tall figure and his sometimes unusual way of walking. And he had recognized her too, given his first words. He knew that she belonged to the Underground and that he had been held prisoner by her and Hans' brother, so why did he just lie to the Gestapo-officer? Why hadn't he given her away? What did he want?
"Ma'am?" Klink asked firmly but still offered his arm in a completely gentleman-like way.
"Th-thanks," she whispered, slipped one hand in the crook of his arm, nodded at the Gestapo-officer, coughed for good measure and slowly walked down the pavement towards the pharmacy that was at the next corner.
When she was certain that she was out of the Kriminalrat's earshot, she moistened her lips and asked hoarsely, "Why didn't you give me away?"
"So, at least you admit it," Klink growled quietly. "I never thought that I would see you again, but obviously fate is having a lot of fun throwing coincidences my way."
Ilse took another deep breath. "Why… did you cover for me? You know that I…"
"Sh-sh, even the trees have ears these days," the Oberst interrupted her, nodding towards the snow-covered trees in some gardens along the street. "Let us say, there is a bear and an eagle who look out for the moles."
She gulped and looked up at him again. "What do you mean?"
"Moles are formidable as long as they can hide deep in the ground, but if they come out, they're mostly blinded by the light of day and sometimes are even in need of some help. Seeing that the bear, who keeps them as safe as he can, is in winter sleep, the eagle has to do the bear's job for now." He glanced down at her and took in her thunderstruck expression.
"The bear is accused for the Iron Ross' fall the day before yesterday," he continued in a hushed voice; getting an idea how to end this whole investigation in the area of Hammelburg that presented a large danger for Hogan and the camp. "The brass is more than furious now, just like the guys in leather-coats. For the moment the bear is off the hook given his condition, but the risk that some of the moles are caught is still high. Maybe it would be the best if the Gestapo is called to another place for further investigation. Do you think moles are capable of keeping a flock of birds on the ground by clipping more of their wings?"
Ilse knew she was gaping and closed her mouth with a click. Swallowing, she murmured weakly, "Don't tell me that you belong to the bear!"
"I do – or why else, do you think, would he get me out from your kind hospitality? Or why did I just lie to a high ranking Gestapo-officer?" Klink's eyes were narrowed, yet he kept up his polite façade to not draw any attention. After all, officially he was accompanying a sick lady to the next pharmacy out of chivalry and to ask her whether she had witnessed anything useful to the investigation.
They were nearing the pharmacy. "Why didn't you say anything – back then?" Ilse demanded quietly. "We wouldn't have threatened you."
"Would you have believed me? And, by the way, I had my reasons," Klink answered briskly.
"You… were almost killed," the young woman replied; gulping again.
"Yes, but I knew that the bear wouldn't let me down." Well, during the hours of his captivity a part of him had somehow hoped that Hogan would pull one of his aces out of his sleeves to get him out of deep water – especially after he'd learned that Burkhalter wouldn't move a finger to save him. Yes, Klink hadn't had any proof at these times that Hogan was indeed Papa Bear, yet the Oberst had already assumed that his senior POW was an active Underground-member, and therefore his only chance of survival.
And he hadn't been disappointed. The whole misunderstanding that he, Klink, was the master-spy Nimrod bore the colonel's stamp. And the solution as to how he was cleared from any accusations had been a typical 'Hogan-trick', too. Yet Klink hadn't known for sure that his American counterpart would really come to his rescue, but Robert had been there for him – like so many times before. Yes, Hogan had killed two birds with one stone – saving Hans Wagner and Klink – yet the Kommandant was certain that there had been more at stake than 'only' his and the Underground leader's life. But this was something he would speak with Hogan about later. Now something else was more important.
"So, do you think there is a chance of clipping some more 'birds' before they can take flight?" he asked softly. He had to get Lübkemeier and the others away from the area without waking any suspicion. He had just had an idea how to manage it – with the Underground's help, of course.
Ilse bit his lips. "You speak of another assault."
"Preferably some distance away, but not far enough to give the brass the idea that someone other than Papa Bear is responsible for it. It shouldn't be here, in the Hammelburg area, but more northern or southern." They had reached the pharmacy and he stopped; turning towards her. "I know that the bear and his family have to keep silent within the next days. It's up to the moles if they are throwing more stones into Goering's way and protecting the bear or not."
Making a tiny nod, the young woman watched him warily. "What's in it for you?" she asked quietly.
"The same as you: The end of this madness," he replied, before he saluted. "Get better soon, Ma'am and thank you for your patience with my questions," he said a little bit louder.
Ilse stopped him before he could walk away. "You… you helped me," she whispered; feeling guilty. "How can I make up for…"
"By thinking twice before you demand a man's death the next time. Enough blood has flown on all sides and every death that could have been prevented darkens the world a little bit more." He bowed his head politely; his expression was cold. "Good day, Ma'am."
He left her standing there in the middle of the soft snow-fall and with a lot to ponder about…
TBC…
Well, Klink has definitely stepped into the 'spying- an sabotage-business', this time he doesn't behave clumsy like he did all the other times he tried to spy on someone or something. Hogan is obviously a damn good teacher – and, above all, Klink's new found strengths have undreamt-effects. If his idea to send the Gestapo on a new goose-hunt by initiating a new sabotage elsewhere (with the Underground's help) will be successful, will be revealed later.
It also was important for me to let him have the talk with Robert about his regards concerning people of other heritages. Racism and discriminations in general are in my eyes one of the nastiest things you can do to other people, and in the TV-show there were several hints that Klink doesn't share the opinion of the Third Reich (just look how normal he acts towards Kinchloe). Yet, in my story, he had to make a dance on the high wire in this case, otherwise his real opinion could have awoken Lübkemeier's distrust even more what would have led to a lot of more trouble.
In the next chapter, our two colonels are growing even closer to each other. And because Wilson has all hands full with a few ill men, he has no time to treat Hogan's healing wounds – a chance for Klink to offer personal help for his favorite troublemaker. And this will lead to more… Much more!
I hope, you liked the new chapter and – like always – I would be very happy to get some reviews.
Have a nice rest of the week,
Love
Yours Starflight
