Hi, my dear readers!

Once again I'm sorry for the delay and that I can only present you an un-edited/corrected chapter, but my dear beta-reader is nearing big tests within her study and is therefore very busy.

To let you not wait any longer, you get – again – a chapter that in my rough English, yet I hope, you're going to like it. The corrected one will replace this as soon as I get it, okay?

Thank you so much for the big feedback. I'm happy that you loved the whole event of Klink seeing finally the tunnels. Of course, it has been a kind of shock for our dear Oberst, even if he knew that Hogan's network has to be an exquisite one, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to do, what he did.

The following chapters are concentrating on Hochstetter's trial. Of course, with him being a higher ranking Gestapo- and SS-officer, the trial won't be a trivial one – or a farce like it was usual at those times. I did some very intense researches concerning the scission of the so-called justice within the Third Reich and how worked. The mentioned 'departments' of the different courts, the employees within the courts and the way of 'justice' are historical. Still I hope, I got everything more or less right.

The next chapters will also show that Stalag 13 – in the TV-show – is really a kind of oasis of peace within the whole hell war had produced. The mentioned issues within this chapter, Burkhalter will ponder about, are historical. And there will be more. Klink and a few others have to drive to Berlin and there they're going to face the whole brutal darkness of the war, the camp is saved from until now.

Parallel, Stalag 13 will get an interims-Kommandant, and even the guards will realize how easy life is, when Klink is in charge.

Nevertheless I hope, you're going to enjoy everything.

Love

Yours Starflight

Chapter 39 – Invitation to Berlin

The next morning started calm and peaceful – at least in Stalag 13. It wasn't the same for Albert Burkhalter, as he entered his office in Berlin the same minute roll call in the POW-camp was over.

Rubbing his temples, Burkhalter braced his elbows on the desk surface and looked down on the report he and certainly also the other generals had gotten this morning. A report that let him doubt if there would be ever some light again in the darkness that had spread over the land. Sometimes he really wished there would be a loud bang and he would find himself a few months in the future – at a time when hopefully this whole insanity was finally over.

An insanity that grew day by day – especially after the Red Army had crossed the borders to East-Prussia at the 13th January and constantly gained ground in bloodily battles. Warsaw had been liberated at the 17th January – a town that had been completely destroyed after the failed revolution the summer prior. The citizen, who had survived the Waffen-SS' revenge, had been deported into camps and were slave-workers now – or were killed. Burkhalter didn't know the latter for sure, but when he remembered the disgust and hate in Himmler's voice as he told him about the 'total cleaning of this filthy town', he had an idea what maybe happened to many people there.

And when he remembered the short telephone talk with his 'good friend' a few days ago, he felt sick to the core. He learned that Himmler ordered to 'evacuate' two of the so-called working-camps in South Poland, which held some POWs, but mostly political prisoners and people of 'not-worth' heritage. Burkhalter, only responsible for the Luft-Stalags, had argued that the most of these men (and women) were too weak to make it into the 'heart' of the Third Reich, and the Reichsführer's answer had shocked him: The more of them died, the better. The Geneva Conventions didn't count for him in this case, and Burkhalter had a bad foreboding that this was only the beginning of another war-crime that would go down in history in a very bad way. Yet there was nothing he could do about it.

And this wasn't the only insanity that afflicted the tossed land that suffered from the storm Hitler and his fellows had released in their greed to gain domination over the world.

With the Red Army conquering more and more of East-Germany, chaos had broken loose. Refugees from Silesia and people of German heritage from Czechia began to flock Saxony, Thuringia and East-Bavaria. In the north people fled over the icebound Baltic Sea from East-Prussia to Western-Pomerania despite the fact that Hitler himself had forbidden them to retreat. The fear of the Red Army was stronger than the fear of the Führer's henchmen. Yet their attempts to escape ended often in death and this not only because the frozen sea couldn't carry those many people and gave away. Words had been given that Russian aircrafts hunted them; shooting at the convoys made of carriages pulled by horses and oxen; killing hundreds of fleeing families.

Yet many made it. The towns and villages along the Baltic Sea were swamped with fled people, the harbors were crowded with refugees – injured, weak, desperate. Naval captains refused to carry weapons and other war machineries to the last ice-fee harbors in East Prussia and back, but transported people as much as it was possible – always threatened by the hostile navy of mostly Russian heritage, and also first by the brass who hadn't cared for the people's survival.

Every captain, every staff-officer who more or less disobeyed his orders and chose people's lives over continuing the battle, stood with one foot already in his grave. Yet many of them took rather the risk of being executed for insubordination than letting all those men, women and children down they once vowed to protect.

Now, since the 23th January, the order that the people had to stay in East-Prussia, had been cancelled and an official evacuation had begun. And the German doom continued. Since the 24th January the Wehrmacht and Waffen-SS began to retreat from Slovenia; at the 26th January the Red Army managed it to cut off the land connection between East-Prussia and Pomerania and separated Königsberg; and only three days ago – at the 30th January – the German civil-ship 'Wilhelm Gustloff' had been scuttled, taking 5000 of 6000 civil refugees to the bottom of the sea. The Ardennes-offensive had been declared as lost two days ago, and even Hitler's broadcast-address one day prior to hold on failed its intention.

Germany was drowning in chaos, Hitler and his closest fellows refused to see the truth and demanded more and more miracles from the last remaining staff-officers. They reorganized the troops, named new troop-leader and Himmler had been made the supreme commander of the new built German Army Group 'Weichsel' who was ordered to prevent the Red Army from conquering West-Prussia and Berlin. In Burkhalter's eyes this task was lost before it even began, but no-one was ready to admit it. And the men, who were sent to the fronts, became younger and younger.

Burkhalter had enough of this all. He hated to get lists with the losses and reading the ages, which were sometimes even under 16. And he hated it to learn how many people were suspected by the Gestapo of being against the regime – a regime the general had come to loath and to fear simultaneously within the last weeks.

A knock on the door interrupted his dark brooding. "Ja, herein!" (Yes, come in)

His secretary entered and handed him a latter. "A messenger just brought this, Herr General. He said, it's urgent."

"Thank you," Burkhalter nodded; already anticipating another catastrophe. While his secretary left again, he quickly opened the envelop, read the letter, grimaced and groaned inwardly. He just had gotten the information that Hochstetter's trial had begun yesterday. And contraire to the usual habit of trials keeping short, this case had been adjourned to the next day because the defense lawyer had pointed out some serious crudities connected with Hochstetter's investigations and Stalag 13, what needed the statements of witnesses in person.

Burkhalter cursed. Usually defense lawyers were nothing else than a farce by now. Often they and the defendants saw each other for the first time at the day of the trial, but obviously Hochstetter had still enough 'friends' in the SS – or Gestapo – who had taken care that he got an attorney who saw in his job more than a unpleasant duty, and tried to get his client out of the mess he had brought himself in.

Albert frowned as his gaze wandered over the addressor: The Volksgerichtshof (People's Court) and not the Central SS-Court that was cognizant 1939 for cases of the SS and Gestapo and had been originated from the 1934 established Court of Honor. Okay, the main court was in Munich and had only a small dependence in Berlin. And – above all – this case included the Luftwaffe, and therefore – strictly speaking – it wasn't a trial that only concerned the SS and Gestapo. The accusations which had been risen against Hochstetter, referred to a wider range than usual, and so it made sense that the court material was tried by the People's Court, where last year the conspirators against Hitler had been sentenced, as well as many more traitors and suspects – independent if they were civils or members of the army and / or SS.

So, Hochstetter's trial didn't take place in a SS-own court he certainly had hoped for, because hardly any justice was made against members of the SS or Gestapo. The People's Court was a better chance that the major would be sentenced, even if justice wasn't independent anymore for more than 10 years now.

1933 and 1934 Hitler had 'reformed' the whole justice, had made himself as the General Judge and had placed the Wehrmacht in charge of the courts. The Central SS-Court was an exception and was led by the Waffen-SS with Himmler as the highest ranking judge and his substitute Franz Breithaupt, a general of the Waffen-SS. That the Wehrmacht produced the judges applied for the People's Court and several Special Tribunals, as well as for the Military Court. While the People's Court and the Special Tribunals still belonged to the Justice Ministry, the Military Court belonged to the 1936 established Reichskriegsgericht (Reich Military Court) that mainly dealt with cases of high treason, defection, Wehrmacht-subversion and so on which had been committed by higher ranking officers. Lower ranks were still dealt with at the People's Court. That Hochstetter's case was tried there was another proof that maybe – this time – justice was dispensed.

Burkhalter re-read the letter and sighed deeply. He, Klink, Sergeant Schultz and Oberleutnant Schmidt had to appear to make their own statements as a witness and joint plaintiff tomorrow. Right, the general could live with that as long as this crazy 'poison-gnome', how Klink called the major, would be laid up afterwards. And he wouldn't mind if some more crimes which were done by the SS, would be court materialled, too, but he doubted the latter highly.

Grumbling, he gripped for the telephone to phone Klink. He knew that the Oberst would complain about the tight schedule and the trip in general, but Burkhalter couldn't change it. Summons had to be followed, end of story.

*** HH *** HH ***

The morning post had not arrived until now, as Klink learned from Burkhalter that he had to travel to Berlin this day. The next part of Hochstetter's trial would take place at the 3rd of February at 10:00 a. m. – a Saturday. To have trial during the weekend wasn't unusual anymore. Therefore the Kommandant and the Sergeant of the Guards would have to arrive this afternoon, and – if everything ran smooth – they would be back tomorrow in the late evening.

Of course Klink tried to back out of it. He hated trials and he hated even more to leave his camp – now more than ever.

"But I have no officially substitute," he complained. "Not after you sent Captain Gruber to the South-West-Front in December, and even Leutnant Bergheim was transferred. What, if the Gestapo or SS tries to intervene with my camp again while I'm gone? Langenscheidt is a promising corporal, but…"

"I knew that you would say this, Klink," Burkhalter answered. "I send someone over today, who will be in charge for the two days you're gone. Major Sandhaus from the Luftwaffe is a capable man who is still healing from a leg injury he got at the Russian Front. He'll be able to keep an eye on your camp for two days, so don't worry."

Klink groaned inwardly. Super, this was exactly what he needed: A substitute who would poke around in a POW-camp that held had an espionage-ring one level downstairs. On the other hand Hogan was officially still restricted to bed, and his men could keep still for two, not even complete days. And, by the way, there was nothing he could do about the major's transfer to Stalag 13, so he replied as nice as possible, "Thank you so much, Herr General, this calms me."

"I knew you would be glad, Klink." Burkhalter sounded serious for once. "Maybe you can contact Oberleutnant Schmidt so that you, Sergeant Schultz and he drive in one car. It saves gasoline and one car is easier to oversee than two. We've to be very careful because the Allies fly more and more attacks."

"A splendid idea, Herr General. I call him after our talk. Is there something I have to bring with me for the trial?"

"No, only the truth – and a little bit of your new-found backbone." The last words echoed with mockery.

Klink made a face but chose to ignore the unkind remark. "Where are we going to reside, Herr General? As far as I heard Berlin isn't this safe anymore."

"Don't let this hear the Führer. He is furious enough about it. But to answer your question: Given the fact that the allies attack Berlin more and more, you're saver in one of our bunkers. Come to the Ministry of Aviation, and we'll leave together for a save place to stay overnight."

"Jawohl, Herr General, and thank you."

Burkhalter ended the call and Klink put the receiver back on the cradle. "'A little bit of your new-found backbone'! Yours is only needed to carry your fat belly, you arrogant Sacher-cake," he grumbled, before he rose and went to the door. "Fräulein Hilda? Link me to Oberleutnant Schmidt in the Gestapo-Headquarters Hammelburg. And then send for Schultz. The sergeant and I have to go on a little journey."

*** HH ***

"You're driving to Berlin? Today?" Hogan stared shocked at Klink, who was packing his suitcase. "But… this is very dangerous by now! Burkhalter is right. The Allies are bombarding the city practically week by week and…"

"I have no other choice, Robert," Klink interrupted him while he placed a clean shirt and his sleeping gown into the suitcase. "They want to question us before they can pass sentence. And if we really want to have a chance to get Hochstetter out of the way forever, we've to make sure that the jury sees the whole mess and his crimes likewise. I admit, this will not be an easy task, because the SS and Gestapo technically has a fool's license, but a guy can hope- especially given the fact that the trial is held not the Central SS-Court, but in the People's Court."

The colonel groaned. "Do you really think they're going to give him hell because he tortured an American POW? The members of juries today in Germany belong to the Wehrmacht and Waffen-SS and…"

"I know," Klink sighed. "But he broke law, he gave instruction to his inferiors to tell a general he wasn't available, he didn't obey a direct order, he abused his rank and position for personal purpose… This is something the brass cannot tolerate."

Hogan combed his fingers through his already tousled hair. "You attacked him. What, if he pressures charge against you?" he asked quietly; concern plain written on his face.

"He certainly will try to do so to get his own head out of the noose," the Oberst answered. "Schultz and I agreed on the statement that I pulled the poison-gnome away from you and he was about to attack me, so I acted on pure defense. There is no-one who could say the opposite."

"Schmidt," Robert threw in for consideration.

Wilhelm shook his head. "No, he was still outside and argued with the guards who tried to stop me from entering the room. It's Hochstetter's statement against that of Schultz and mine. One against two. The statement of a high-ranking Luftwaffe-officer against someone, whose cholerically temper and streak for violence are infamous. And, besides, this is the best way to explain why Schultz aimed at him and kept him with a weapon in check."

"Schultz tried to protect you and me, and…"

"Exactly," Klink nodded and went into the bathroom to get his washing utensils. "He protected his commanding officer of getting harmed by a man who had turned crazy. This whole scene will undergird our statements that Hochstetter simply lost it in his wish for vengeance."

Hogan grimaced. "You're very certain of this, aren't you?"

"Not really, but it's the best shot we can make," Will replied. Coming out of the bathroom with his toiletries bag, he glanced at Hogan and his face softened. "Rob, stop worrying. Burkhalter wants Hochstetter out of his hair just like we do. It's also in Schmidt's best interest that Hochstetter doesn't return. If we pull together, the black-cladded screamer is done for."

"I do not fear so much that the whole thing will backfire, because even if the high-ranking Nazis are devils in my eyes, I do know that you German are stickler for details. I do believe that Hochstetter will receive some punishment. What I fear is that you are getting hurt on your way to Berlin or in the city. You and Schultz. And, to say the truth, I have some concern for Schmidt in this matter, too. I do think that he is a honorable young man. I really would hate it if something happens to him only because of a trial that is made on my behalf."

Klink smiled gently at him. "To get hit by the wrong bullet is a risk we all have to take during war."

"You can take a greater or a less greater risk by choosing where you are. Here you're safe. The Allies would never attack a known POW-camp," Hogan protested.

"And if I go to Hammelburg and the Allies fly another ambush, it could kill me, too."

"Hammelburg is not Berlin. They try to bring Hitler to his knees and the bubble-beard is in Berlin, not Hammelburg. The chance that you get harmed there is a few times higher than here." There was real deep worry, even some fear, in Robert's dark eyes, and Will stopped the packing to cup his beloved's cheeks with both hands. Rob's concern for him warmed him through and through.

"We travel during day. The air ambushes are mostly made during night so that our air defense recognizes them too late. How high, do you think, is the risk that we'll be under attack under these circumstances?"

Robert lowered shortly his gaze, before he looked back at the older man. "And what's during the nights you're going to stay in Berlin?" he whispered. "What if the Allies plan an attack and hit the hotel you're…"

Will's thumbs moved in soothing circles over Rob's skin; deeply moved by the younger man's worry. He really seemed to mean a lot to his witty fox. "Burkhalter ordered that we arrive at Ministry of Aviation, and then takes us then to a bunker where we will stay the night."

Pressing his lips into a line for a few seconds, Hogan glanced grimly at him. "Bunker or no bunker – I don't like this. I don't like it such a tiny bit." He lifted his right hand where the tips of his thumb and index-finger were only a millimeter apart.

"I don't like it either, but we cannot back out because of some bad feelings," Klink answered gently, before he pressed a soft kiss on Hogan's forehead. "If you were in my place, would you go or trying to wriggle out of it?"

Robert groaned and closed his eyes. "You know me. I rather face something instead of running away. But it's one thing to take a risk you can calculate or not. So…"

"The risk is lowered because of the time we travel and where we stay," the Oberst interrupted him quietly. "And just like you, I, don't like to run away."

"Before this whole mess three weeks ago, you would have backed up," Robert said strained, before he turned his head and breathed a kiss on Wilhelm's left inner wrist.

"Maybe, maybe not," Klink pondered slowly. "I always try to avoid large risks – naturally. But there are still things which are worth to fight for – to risk everything for. I didn't back off as you were about to die because of the air fighters. I didn't back off as Hochstetter got you. And I certainly won't back off when my presence is decisive for eliminating a large danger for you and us all here. I have to go, Rob, and you know it."

Hogan swore under his breath, but nodded. He couldn't be mad at Will, after all the older man was right: He would do the same if their positions were switched.

Klink, knowing that he had won the argument for once, bent down and captured his beloved's lips soothing and lovingly with his own. Robert snaked his arms around Will's shoulder, and for a long moment they simply held each other and savored the other one's kiss.

"How long will you be away?" Hogan asked quietly, after Klink finally let go of him and straightened his lanky frame.

"Schultz and I leave within a quarter hour and we'll return tomorrow in the evening or the day after at latest. We'll take the staff-car, and Langenscheidt and a few of your men are busy in the moment to remove all signs. Like this we aren't easy to identify should some spotters of the Allies are in the air."

Robert sighed. "I can't stop you, can I?"

"No, you can't," Will smiled, closed his suitcase and slipped into his coat. "Burkhalter sends a substitute over for me – a Major Sandhaus from the Luftwaffe. Do you think there is the tiniest chance that your men will behave for once and rise no trouble for the two days I'm gone?"

Robert rolled his eyes. "I'll give the order to be as nice as possible to him." He hesitated. "You said you were ordered to come to the Ministry of Aviation?"

"Yes," Will nodded.

"So, there is the chance that you meet Goering?"

The Kommandant shrugged. "Maybe. He is the highest ranking military officer of the Luftwaffe, and not only the Reichsmarschall, so – yeah – there is the chance that I'll meet him." He frowned. "Why?"

"Uh… don't mention his visit here," Robert grinned sheepishly.

Klink stared at him. "Let me guess. His visit was a phony one like Hitler's here and Himmler's in Paris." As he saw the lopsided smirk of his beloved, he rolled his eyes. "I don't want to have any details," he said and grimaced.

Hogan laughed quietly, then he rose from the bed's edge he had sat on; knowing that the moment of good-bye had arrived. "You'll be careful, okay?" he whispered; feeling suddenly so damn helpless.

Klink winked at him. "I will, Rob." He reached out and stroke gently over the younger man's right cheek. "After all I've someone to return to."

Hogan cracked a smile, closed the small distance to his secret lover and pulled him into his arms. He sighed as he felt Will returning the embrace. For a few seconds they simply clung to each other, then Klink stole a last kiss from the man he loved, clapped him gently on the not injured shoulder, stepped back and took his suitcase. "Until tomorrow or the day after," he said quietly.

"I hold you to this promise," Robert answered, and watched with an uneasy feeling Wilhelm walking away. Wrapping his arms around himself, he murmured, "Sweet Lord, please keep an eye on him!"

*** HH ***

Klink wasn't the only one, who was anything but delighted about the trip. Horst Schmidt was not less irritated about the whole thing, but – of course – he obeyed the order. Klink had called him directly after his talk with Burkhalter and so the young man had time enough to pack his suitcase before the neutral Luftwaffe-staff-car held at the main-door of the Gestapo-headquarters. Having no other choice than leaving von Neuhaus in charge, Schmidt slipped onto the back-seat an hour after Klink's call. At least he would have nice company, because contraire to the most other officers, he liked the Oberst. And Schultz was simply fun to be around.

They stopped at the optician's shop, where Klink got his five monocles – only to realize that he had forgotten the interims-glasses in his quarters he had put down while packing his suitcase. Right, there certainly were more serious matters to think of. Promising the optician to return the glasses after he came back from Berlin, the three men were finally on their way to Germany's capital.

*** HH *** HH ***

Klink's interims substitute arrived four hours after the Kommandant and Schultz had left the camp. Langenscheidt had been in charge for the time, and didn't mind as the guards from the gate reported the major's arrival.

Major Joachim Sandhaus came in a simple staff-car together with his driver. As he left the car, Kinchloe and the others could see that he used a cane while he limped towards the Kommandantur; pulling his left leg after him. He seemed to be in his middle forties, had dark hair and sported a moustache which ended in up-curled peaks.

"Very Prussian," Newkirk commented wryly, while leaning against the wall of Barrack 2. For once the sun was shining and even it was still cold, the golden rays did miracles on the POWs' – and guards' – mood.

They watched how Langenscheidt greeted him, and how the two men exchanged a few words, before they vanished into the Kommandantur.

Ten minutes later the POWs were summoned for an unscheduled roll call they had already expected. It was the usual procedure when the Kommandant was replaced with a substitute for whatever reason.

The major spoke a plain but very German-accented English, introduced himself shortly, demanded discipline and obedience until Klink was back, and asked then for the senior POW officer. Obviously the man hadn't been really briefed by Burkhalter as he sent the major to Stalag 13 in haste.

Langenscheidt cleared his throat. "Usually the senior POW would be Colonel Hogan, but he still heals from the injuries he got from the 'questioning' by Major Hochstetter – the reason why Oberst Klink and the Sergeant of the Guards were called to Berlin."

Sandhaus nodded slowly. "General Burkhalter told me that your usual Kommandant was summoned for the trial against a rouge gone Gestapo- and SS-officer, but not more," he answered quietly. "Tell me more when we're alone. Who is the colonel's PSO?"

Langenscheidt sighed inwardly; hoping that the major didn't share the, in his eyes, outrageous opinion of the Third Reich concerning other-colored people. The whole mess with Lübkemeier and Klink standing up for Kinchloe had been the top-topic of the camp for days afterwards. "Sergeant Kinchloe!" he called, and James stepped forwards.

He wasn't surprised to see open haughtiness in the major's eyes, as he looked him up and down. "You're the current PSO?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Kinch answered calmly.

"Okay, I'll expect that you keep your men under control. You gave the daily report already to Corporal Langenscheidt?" His voice was almost too flat to be called polite, but Kinchloe didn't let this getting through him. Hogan had not asked but ordered him and the others to play nice until Klink was back, and James acknowledged this command without hesitation. So he didn't reacted offended. Rather he opposite. He gave the German a wide brilliant smile.

"Of course, Major, just like I do it for three weeks now."

"Good," was all Sandhaus replied, before he dismissed the POWs and turned his attention back to Langenscheidt. "I'll pay the colonel a short visit soon – after all I want to speak with a leading POW who is at least a full human."

Langenscheidt couldn't help himself; he felt disgusted at the majors open racism. He had come to respect and to like James Kinchloe, and the discriminating words of the interims-Kommandant angered him. Yet he simply knew that he couldn't give into his feelings – not only to hide his own true opinion what otherwise could transfer him to a suicide mission at the Russian Front, but also to protect the POWs who had a different color-skin.

So he simply said, "As you wish."

Sandhaus nodded. "But first I want to move in. The general told me that Oberst Klink's private quarters held a guestroom. Take care that my belongings are brought to there."

Langenscheidt tensed inwardly. The major and Hogan would never get along, this much was for sure. Sandhaus was a Nazi, there was no doubt, and Hogan never hid the fact that he loathed true fellows of Hitler. Yet he couldn't forbid the major of taking residence in Klink's quarters, what certainly would lead to a clash between the two officers. Unless…

"Of course, Herr Major," Karl answered smoothly. "I'll also make certain that there will be made some room in the bathroom for you utensils. Those of Colonel Hogan are only a few and…"

The major had already limped towards the Kommandantur, but stopped dead in his tracks now and looked with large eyes at the younger man. "I beg your pardon?" he asked thunderstruck.

"I said, I'll take care that there is also be made room for your washing utensils in the bathroom. Oberst Klink took the most certainly with him, but those of Colonel Hogan are there, and…"

"Do I interpreted your words correctly, Corporal? The colonel is not in the infirmary but in the Oberst's quarters?"

Karl managed it to stay serious as he saw the almost shocked expression of the interims-Kommandant. "Jawohl, Herr Major. You see, Oberst Klink offered Colonel Hogan a place to heal after the colonel was badly tortured by the Gestapo. Since then the colonel stays in the Kommandant's quarters until his injuries will be cured enough. But I don't think that he will disturb you, sir. Okay, he is the typical American – a little brash, a little bit loud here and there, but otherwise he is affable. So…"

Sandhaus had only stared at him, but now found finally his voice again. "This damn Amy lives in the quarters of one of our higher ranking officers?"

Inwardly, Langenscheidt smiled. It was clear that the major wouldn't even consider to share a place with 'the enemy'. "Yes, sir. For three weeks exactly now. And the doctor says that the colonel is going to need at least one week more or so, before he can start to walk around again."

Sandhaus blinked. This was outrageous! "A personal question, Corporal: Has your Kommandant lost his mind?"

"No, sir, he has his own leading style and treats all POWs with simple human respect and politeness. Colonel Hogan has been here for almost three years and given his rank, he and the Oberst have to interact day by day. They respect each other, and after the colonel was kidnapped and tormented by an officer of the Gestapo out of personal reasons, Oberst Klink decided to give the man a chance to heal properly – of course in agreement with General Burkhalter."

The Luftwaffe-officer shook his head, before he growled, "I'll never live with a damn Amy beneath a roof for only an hour, not to speak of one or two nights. Take my belongings to he guards' quarters. Even if they don't offer any luxury, I certainly prefer a simple wooden hut instead a 'nice' house in which one of the cursed Allies sleeps!" He brusquely turned around and headed for the Kommandantur.

"Jawohl, Herr Major," Langenscheidt acknowledged the order. And only as the major vanished within the building, followed by his driver Nolte, Karl allowed himself to grin.

Victory!

A quarter hour later, Sandhaus stepped into the small building that served the original Kommandant as quarters. He was surprised to find spartan but nonetheless appealing hue of cozy luxury that filled the main room with a warm atmosphere. And, what him surprised even more, a very good smell lay in the air. Obviously someone was cooking something delicious.

Giving Langenscheidt an asking glance, the corporal answered the unspoken question, "LeBeau is certainly preparing the lunch, Herr Major."

"Klink has an own cook?" Sandhaus blurted out; scandalized. They were at war, half of Germany was starving and this man had hired an own cook from France?

"No, sir, Corporal LeBeau is one of our POWs, who already cooked for General Burkhalter and one time even for Reichsmarschall Goering. He agreed to prepare meals for Oberst Klink and Colonel Hogan as long as the colonel heals."

Sandhaus shook his head. "What is this here? A vacation camp?"

"No, sir, it's Luft-Stammlager no. 13 with more than thousand POWs. But we try to make the best of the situation – and given the fact that the Kommandant and the senior POW officer get along rather well, the whole camp runs smoothly. Why, do you think, was there never a successful escape from Stalag 13 – or any death cases?"

Inwardly Karl cringed. Dear Lord, he sounded like Klink.

Snorting, Sandhaus closed the distance to the door from where the delicious smell came and glanced inside. A small man with an apron and a cooking hat was working at the stove, looked his way and said coolly with a French accent, "The lunch will be ready in half an hour, Major."

Sandhaus felt anger awaking him in. Usually he wouldn't have declined, because the fantastic smell and the sight of dried, many herbs on the table together with potatoes and vegetables, were very tempting. The meals at the hospital in Munich where he had stayed the last five weeks, had been awful, and the sustenance in the caserns was bad at best. To get something delicious between his teeth was something he really would have liked to allow himself. Yet he wouldn't share a meal with a damn Amy, even if the man held a higher rank than he did.

"Okay," he answered flatly. "Take care that it will be brought to the Kommandantur. I will not eat here." He turned around. "Where is the colonel?" he asked Langenscheidt, who pointed at the door to the left of the kitchen.

"Over there, Herr Major. As far as I know, Sergeant Wilson, our medic, is just treating him."

Sandhaus nodded shortly. Stopping at the threshold he let his gaze roam through the room that was a sleeping chamber with well-chosen furniture, a furnace and carpets on the wooden floor. Two men were in the room – one was standing in front of another male who had turned his back towards the door. His back with healing several long thin injuries which obviously resulted from brutal lashes. A bandage was wrapped around the man's head what made the almost black hear standing into all directions.

Wilson glared at the interims-Kommandant, yet inwardly he grinned. It had been Newkirk, who had come up with the idea to patch Hogan up again so that Klink's substitute would get the imagination that the colonel was still in very bad shape. Like this, Sandhaus would have no reason to kick Hogan out of the quarters. And Wilson had made sure that the first sight, the major got, was Hogan's still messy back – just for good measurement. Kinch, Newkirk and the others had realized within a minute that the interims-Kommandant was a true Nazi who would love to give all Allies a pay-back for the injuries he obviously got in combat. To wreak his loathe was certainly something Sandhaus would love to do, and the Heroes didn't want him to find a reason for starting a quarrel with their beloved commanding officer.

Hogan had agreed to Peter's simple but good plan, even if he really disliked the thought of being wrapped up like a mummy again.

The moment Robert heard the major's cold voice at the kitchen door and the unkind words, he knew that neither Newkirk, nor Wilson had exaggerated. This man was a real fellow of Hitler's sick points of view, and he was glad that the man had chosen to stay in the guards' quarters instead here, because even before he met the major in person, Hogan knew they would clash.

"Achtung!" Langenscheidt was forced to say to wake the two POWs' attention to the fact that the interims-Kommandant had arrived, even if he already knew that they were aware of the German officer's presence.

Wilson straightened his frame and put his hands on the back, but otherwise denied any kind of greeting. Hogan turned slowly around – putting on a good show of how much effort it cost him to do so.

Sandhaus saw a large blue-black bruise on the left side of the man's ribcage. Other healing bruises were on the man's face, while further tracks of clear torture were exposed on his upper body. Stepping nearer, he looked down at the American. Dark brown eyes glanced expressionless up at him, while the colonel tipped his temple in a sloppy salute. The impertinence!

"Colonel Robert Hogan?" Sandhaus asked coldly.

"Yes, Colonel Robert E. Hogan, US Air Corps," the American answered neutrally.

"Major Joachim Sandhaus, Luftwaffe. I'm the substitute for Oberst Klink for the time of his absence. It has been brought to my attention that you still heal from a questioning of the Gestapo."

"As you certainly can clearly see," Hogan answered wryly.

"Yes, obviously you irritated them a lot," Sandhaus deadpanned. "Corporal Langenscheidt also briefed me about the special treatment concerning your person that was ordered in agreement with General Burkhalter. Of course, I accept the current status that frees you of the usual duties of the senior POW, as well as your stay here in those quarters – after all this is an order of General Burkhalter. Nonetheless Corporal Langenscheidt will check on you and report me about your presence two times the day."

"A shame. That really shortens my visits in the Hofbräu in Hammelburg or a stroll to the cinema," Hogan mocked.

"Spare me and yourself those lame attempts of being funny, Colonel. You maybe can speak like this with Klink, but certainly not with me. When I ask you or order something, you answer with 'Jawohl' or…"

"I don't speak German, so please repeat what I have to say to you," Hogan interrupted him and saw with childish triumph how the major flushed. "After all, I don't want to say it incorrectly," he added.

Sandhaus pressed shortly his lips into a thin line, before he snapped, "I'm sure that you've heard this word so often within this camp that you're able to repeat it. You, an officer who has studied at a Military Academy – even if it was an American one – has certainly some intelligence." He turned towards Langenscheidt. "I want a guard posted at this building's entrance, and someone who checks at this man every hour."

"To pester and to disturb an injured POWs healing process on purpose is against the Geneva Conventions, Major," Hogan cut in; sparing Langenscheidt an answer.

Baffled, Sandhaus looked at him. "The Geneva…"

Robert nodded. "Yes. It's mentioned in the additional article 35C-II that was made at the 28th August 1943 to complete paragraph 12, article 5B, passage 4. Or was it the 29th August?" He looked at Wilson.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm not this familiar with the exact text of the Geneva Conventions au contraire to you and Colonel Klink."

"Additional article 5B…" Sandhaus tried to repeat flabbergasted, and Hogan shook his head.

"Sorry, sir, it was article 35C-II that completes article 4, passage 5B of…"

"Excuse me, Colonel, didn't you say it was article 5B, passage 4 that was completed by paragraph 12?" the medic cut in; realizing to what game his superior was up.

"No, Sergeant, it was the additional article 35C-II to complete paragraph 5B, article 12, passage 4. So…"

"STOP IT!"

Sandhaus' outburst silenced the two Americans.

"If you think you can play your games with me, Colonel, you've to do better than that!" he hissed.

Robert blinked at him with the perfect mixture of innocence and offense. "Major, if you lead a POW-camp, you've to know the Geneva Conventions. Otherwise you soon will be in deep water with the Red Cross and therefore with your Führer."

"Hitler has a high opinion of the Red Cross," Wilson added. "At least this is something I hear over and over again."

"Or why, do you think, a man of the caliber of Colonel Klink has taken this law gazette as a second bible?" Hogan asked kindly. "Klink is a stern Kommandant who rules this camp with iron fist, but he does it in consideration of written law – means in this case, of the Geneva Conventions. It spared him certainly the one or other trouble with the Berlin brass." He smiled shortly. "Believe me, Major, you have to interiorize the Geneva Conventions if you want to start a carrier as a POW-Kommandant – and given your really bad injury I can see one mile from afar, it is the only thing that is left for you."

Sandhaus, completely brought out of concept and too thunderstruck to think clearly, looked at Langenscheidt in silent ask for support.

The corporal cleared his throat and said formally, "I don't want to mention this openly in the presence of POWs, Herr Major, but General Burkhalter really sets great value on the strict observance of the Geneva Conventions. We all here had serious issues with him, whenever those rules were broken."

It was obvious that the major's blood-pressure was about to reach a new record of level, as he flushed even more. Taking a deep breath to calm down, he addressed Hogan again.

"The corporal told me that you're still too injured to move back into your Barrack. Can you walk at least enough to join a roll call?"

"I can limp to the restrooms, but not more. I think you know of what I speak," Robert answered nonchalant.

"Well, shit is obviously the only thing you can manage," Sandhaus sneered.

Hogan's answer was icily. "Language, Major. Is this now the of way of behavior the so-called 'master-race' follows? My, my, the politeness in this country really has lost its touch."

Sandhaus closed the distance to Hogan and glared with open loathe at him. "If you believe you can provoke me, Colonel, you're mistaken. Be grateful that Klink and not I'm your Kommandant, otherwise I would teach you how to behave," he snarled.

"Odd, the same I just wanted to say to you," Hogan answered with a hint of his impish grin.

Looking the American officer up and down, Sandhaus only snorted, before he turned away and walked towards the door. At the threshold he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. "I was told that you've been 'kidnapped' and tortured by a Gestapo-officer out of personal reason. I hold no sympathy for the Gestapo, but in this case I can understand the man. He should have been able to finish what he started!"

Hogan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "The same should have been applied for my comrade who shot you down! But regrettable wishes are not always fulfilled."

Both men shared another glare of disgust and contempt; then Sandhaus left.

Langenscheidt gulped. "This was… nasty," he murmured.

"Did you expect something else?" Hogan replied; still too angry to be polite.

"No, not after I talked with him for a few minutes before we came here," Karl admitted. "He's the complete opposite of Oberst Klink."

"Yeah, a true 'loyal fellow' of your insane Führer!" the colonel growled.

Langenscheidt turned to leave, but looked one time back. "No, Colonel Hogan," he said softly. "He is not MY 'Führer'."

"LAAAANGENSCHEEEIIIIDT!"

The shout came from outside, and Karl rolled his eyes. "At least, the major sounds like Klink," he groaned. And he was relieved to hear some sudden chuckles as he left the building.

*** HH *** HH ***

"SCHUUUUULTZ! This was our exit!" Klink looked back over his shoulder as the staff-car passed by the highway-exit with the clear sign "Berlin".

"Yes, Herr Kommandant, but the road was partly destroyed five weeks ago. Therefore we've to drive via Kassel and Magdeburg, just like General Burkhalter as he came to yours and Colonel Hogan's aid," Hans answered calmly while steering the car further towards north.

Klink groaned and slid deeper into the front passenger seat; pulling the cap over his eyes. If they only would be already at the in the capital. Behind him he heard Schmidt chuckling quietly.

"See it positive, Herr Oberst, like this we all have a further period of grace before we've to go into the lion's den."

Wilhelm had to smile in amusement at those words. "Well, Goering can roar if he wants, therefore you're right." He sighed. "I only wish everything would be already over."

"You're not alone with this wish," Schultz said softly, while he still concentrated on the road.

The travel of the three men had been uneventful so far. One time, between Bad Brückenau and Fulda, they saw a squadron of air fighters which didn't bear the German cross, but they veered all of sudden and flew into the opposite direction as if they would have gotten another order. And Klink couldn't shake off the feeling that this was simply the truth – that Robert had his fingers in the pie again.

As they reached Kassel, the journey got more and more distressing – especially the more they neared Berlin afterwards. Klink knew that the Allies were bombarding the West more than the East, but everyone's declared target was – besides the large towns with facilities – Berlin. More than a dozen times they saw smoke from afar or as they bypassed cities which held a lot of ruins. Two tank divisions crossed their path and seven times they had to identify themselves at barriers set up by the SS.

It was in the very late afternoon after dawn as they finally reached Berlin – and the trip from the capital's outer quarters to the center shook all three men to the core. Klink wasn't sure but he thought that at least a quarter of the town was heavily damaged or destroyed. People, pale and silent, walked along the streets which were often covered with debris; remains of gutted houses lined the streets and squares. Patrols of the Totenkopf- and Waffen-SS roamed through the town, tanks made room for themselves and Wehrmacht-trucks. At some night-bars women stood outside to sell themselves, at other crossroads vehicles transported injured soldiers towards the Charité or other hospitals which were still functional.

They reached the long street along the Berlin zoo – the Tiergarten – that led to the Leipziger Street. Even here they saw destruction and it was obvious that certainly a lot of animals had been killed during air craft attacks – last but not least because of the zoo's proximity to the government quarter which was the main-aim of the United Allies.

From afar the three men could see the remains of the Reichstags-building to their left. Klink had faced the ruins several times, but it never ceased to shock him to see the mighty building mostly burnt down – a building he had entered a few times during his time as a member of the political party SPD at late twenties and the early thirties. Yet he still couldn't believe the official version of the reason for the devasting fire that happened twelve years ago – that this had been the deed of Jewish people what gave Hitler the power in the end to hunt them. They had no reason to do something like this – at least not then. The Oberst had his own idea about the whole matter, but it was better to keep his mouth shut if he wanted to live.

By now the Reichstag-building served partly as a bunker after many windows had been bricked up; in other parts of the building departments of the Charité had been placed. The last Klink heard, the gynecology was here now, but besides this department, there was also a military hospital now, as well as a facility of the company AEG that produced electron tubes here.

The building, where once the parliament of the last emperors and of the first attempt of democracy had resided, had become a place for general-purpose. Klink had never understood Hitler's reasons why he didn't give order to rebuild the Reichstag even after years. Before the second war started, Germany had experienced an economic boom that was beyond example. Within a few years projects had been started and fulfilled, which took everyone by surprise. There would have been enough money and reasons to rebuild the Reichstag, but it didn't happen. Heavens, when Klink thought back on the many giant buildings, broad streets, highways and so on, which had been begun and were finished before the war went down the hills, he really couldn't comprehend why not this one building – the root of democracy – was still a ruin; even without the Allies' doing.

Maybe this was the reason. Democracy and the Nazis' way didn't go hand in hand, and it was better to make the people forget about liberal opinions. And, maybe, the wrecked Reichstag was still a twisted memorial Hitler could abuse for his sick 'politics' and ideas he had hammered into the people's heads.

Will turned his glance away from the destroyed building and looked shortly at the Brandenburger Gate before he turned his attention back to the road.

They drove along the Leizpiger Street and turned into the Wilhelm-Street where the ministry's main entrance was. The large building with its six levels, many partly high windows and the grey color where built in the typical practical but also imposing style Hitler and his fellows preferred. Despite the fact that it was already after 5 o'clock p.m., the whole building was brimming with activities, yet you had to look twice to see some faint lights behind the covered many windows. Berlin always had to expect air ambushes and therefore every lights had to be switched off soon after dawn.

They stopped near the main gate and parked the car. As they left the vehicle, Klink put on a wide smile, but groaned deeply in his throat, while he looked at the entrance to the building.

Following his gaze, Schultz and Schmidt learned quickly the reason for the Oberst's reaction. There, on the threshold to the ministry, stood two fat figures and talked with each other. And without any pleasure they recognized not only General Burkhalter, but also one of the highest ranking man in whole Germany – no-one else than the Reichsmarschall in person…

TBC…

Well, Sandhaus is a true fellow of the 'bubble-beard', and everyone within the camp is going to miss 'the big shot'. I also had fun to write the scene in which Hogan pulled Sandhaus' leg with messing with the Geneva Convention, yet he will learn quickly that the major is a complete different kind of man than Wilhelm is.

Within the next chapter, Hochstetter's trial will begin. And while Klink and Hogan only miss each other in the beginning, doom is rising everywhere. The trial will endanger our dear Kommandant, while Sandhaus acts more and more on his hate he harbors for every Allied soldier.

Yet, despite the more darker atmosphere, I do hope you liked the new chapter, and – like always – I'm absolutely curious of your reactions.

Have a nice rest of the week (I hope I can replace the unedited chapter with the right one during the weekend),

Love

Yours Starflight