Hi, my dear readers,
Sorry but once again you have to read a chapter that his not edited. My beta-reader seems to be very busy in the moment, because I haven't heard anything from her within the last three weeks. So – maybe – if there is someone out there who has time and can pick up the slack a little bit, I would be VERY happy. Please let me know, if someone can help me with this issue.
Thank you so much for the big feedback, and you are all correct: The next chapters are going to be hairy, before the real danger appears. I did some serious researches concerning the justice in Nazi-Germany at 1945 (or the lack of it, to say it clear), and at which Court which kind of trials were held. The absence of real lawyers his real history, as well as the fact that after 1943 / 44 only officers were the judges (partly without any knowledge of law and justice). The place, where Hochstetter's trial takes place in my story, is real, too. I researched the building, the address, the surroundings, and so on. The 'president's' name of the People's Court is also historical, as well as the trial that also takes place besides Hochstetter's, but you'll learn about this a little bit later.
Despite the fact that the whole circumstances and background of the trial is dark (and shows the insanity of – like I have to admit – my people's way at those times), I hope you're going to like this part of the story. After all, it is still a story and there are always things which can turn out better than thought. There will be a few twists and surprises, so be ready for some rollercoasters.
Have fun,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 40 – Hochstetter's trial, part 1
„I tell you, mon colonel, this man is worse than toothaches," LeBeau groused while serving Hogan a small, cold dinner. "He is a devil! Our exercising this afternoon was nothing else than a drill – running in two lines side by side for an hour. Then he ordered two roll calls within thirty minutes, and he also ordered 'lights out' at seven o'clock in the evening, not eight o'clock. He made himself at home in Schultzie's chamber, kicked Langenscheidt out of to make room for his driver, and I swear that Mademoiselle Hilda had reddened eyes as she went home." Outraged he poured himself one of Klink's cognacs. "And this midday he complained that the lunch was cold I brought over to the Kommandantur. I told him that this is the result when a plate with a warm meal has to be carried square over the whole compound in the middle of the winter, and he snapped at me that I would be cold like the lunch the next time it isn't warm enough by locking me into the cooler."
Hogan felt a vein at his temple drumming. "What did you reply?"
"I said that accordingly to the Geneva Conventions, POWs cannot be used for private tasks, and therefore I decline to cook for him."
The colonel nodded. "Well done. Let him eat the trash that is served in the casino."
LeBeau grimaced. "I think I did us all a bad service." He all but knocked down the cognac; grimacing at this un-French way to have something valuable like a true cognac.
Warily, Hogan looked up. "How so?"
"He said that it obviously is about time to get some discipline in this camp and that we would be less rebellious when we've enough workout. What he meant came clear in the afternoon as we weren't allowed to enter the sport-hall but had to run on the compound for an hour. Wilson already complained that his infirmary will be soon overcrowded, because thanks to Sandhaus' idea of sport, seven more men reported themselves ill with throat-ache and coughing.
"So, he risks the POWs' health to demonstrate his power," Hogan said slowly. "This will get him into trouble."
"The sooner the better," LeBeau growled. "This man is a pest!"
Hogan put the napkin on his lap and wanted to say something, as the door opened and Langenscheidt stepped in. "Good evening, Colonel," he greeted politely and completely against the rules, because usually a POW was never greeted first independent of his and the German guard's rank. But Karl always had the urge to show the American the respect he held for him and now, with no German officer around, he simply did it.
"Hello, Langenscheidt. Something the matter – beside the fact that Sandhaus kicked you out of your own quarters to give it to his driver?" Hogan replied as he saw the sure face of the corporal.
Langenscheidt looked surprised at him, then he sighed, "The grapevine in this camp is really a quick thing." He sighed. "I'm not allowed to complain openly about my superior, but if a bomb would fall on this guy's head, I wouldn't mind."
"I would mind, because in the moment it would mean that the explosion would get us all," Robert deadpanned. The comment had the hoped result: LeBeau and Langenscheidt chuckled. Hogan sighed and turned serious again. "I know he is not Klink…"
"I never thought that I would say this, but I miss the big shot," Karl groaned.
"We all miss him," Hogan smiled. 'Me more than all of you together,' he added in his thoughts. Then he cleared his throat. "But it's only for one or two days. We'll survive until then. When Klink is back, Sandhaus will get trouble, leave and our relative peace will return."
"But until then he changes Stalag 13 into hell," the former paratrooper grumbled. "He ordered me to tell you that you've…" He looked at his wrist-watch. "… twenty minutes left now to eat your dinner and to use the bathroom. If one minute after 7 o'clock the lights in the quarters are still on, he'll make certain that a few guards bring you down into the cooler, even if they have to carry you. There you can use light as long as you want."
Hogan narrowed his eyes. "He has to know that this is arbitrariness and breaks not only the general rules of the POW-camps, but also is a violation against the Geneva Conventions! Exactly like his order of 'workout' this afternoon that resulted in seven sick men."
Langenscheidt shrugged. "I don't think he cares. He asked for a printout of the Geneva Conventions, and given your little stunt you pulled this morning, I made sure that he gets the version for 1938."
This elicited a smirk from Hogan. "Thanks, Langenscheidt."
The corporal snorted. "I don't think it was one of my brightest moments. As he realized that this is not the actual version, he got very angry and demanded from Fräulein Hilda to give him the valid one. I spoke with Hilda about your little trick this morning and so she told the major that Klink took the actual version with him to compare it with the newest one in General Burkhalter's office. I don't know what he replied, but the next time I saw her, she obviously had cried. And I don't remember only one single occasion at which our Hilda has wept because of something that happened within the camp."
A deep growl escaped Hogan's throat. Yes, he had fallen for Will – hard – but he really liked Hilda and had developed a strong sense of protection when it came to the young woman. Hell, a few months after she replaced Helga, he even had played with the thought to propose to her after the war, but then… Well, then he developed those completely insane but so strong feelings for Will. Yet it wouldn't hinder him to defend and to shield their all 'pretty Fräulein', who always had some nice words and kind smiles for everyone in the camp, independent of the nationality.
Narrowing his eyes, Hogan would have loved to fight the bastard who wanted to turn their camp into a mess of tyranny. On the other hand he knew that they only had to hang on for another, maybe a further half day, and everything would be back to normal. And even if it bugged him, he said quietly,
"There is nothing we can do in the moment. Hilda will come around and I'm sure that Klink will make up to her after he returns. He highly respects her and I think I know him well enough to be the perfect gentleman who will be the 'knight in shining armor' with a little extra holiday in his pocket as a redemption for her suffering. And concerning us here – and I mean the prisoners and the guards – I think it all teaches us a lesson that we can be grateful that Klink is Klink. He may boast here and there a little bit, but he always protects us as good as he can."
He gripped for the cup of tea, LeBeau had made for him.
"And… what's about 'Lights out at seven o'clock' even for the Kommandant's quarters?" Langenscheidt asked carefully.
A slow smile spread over the colonel's face. "Let him have his way for now. If he wants to go early to bed, we should grant him this wish. His awakening will be rude enough when Klink returns."
*** HH *** HH ***
"Thank you, Herr General, this is more than we could expect," Klink said while he looked around in the small, safe, not so cozy… shabby, ugly, cold and dark chamber with a few field beds and metal locker as furniture. The mere thought that he and the others would stay overnight beneath earth in one of the government's bunker, sent shivers down his spine.
Wilhelm's mood was down to zero, and the reason was the 'honor' to have a little bit more than a 'short talk' with the Reichsmarschall and its aftermath.
After he and the others had reached the ministry's entrance, they had payed respect to the Reichsmarschall and – in Klink's and Schultz' case – their highest ranking superior, and had exchanged a few words.
Given the whole disaster of the two sabotages within the days prior which destroyed two very important railways and a bridge between south-west and south-east of Germany, and the suspects of a higher ranking Gestapo officer concerning Klink's senior POW officer, Goering took his time to speak with Klink about everything extensively in his office – Burkhalter and had been invited, too, while Schultz and Schmidt had been sent to the cafeteria.
Like this Goering had learned firsthand of everything that happened, lauded Klink's level-headedness in the whole matter and also congratulated him for the zero-record of non-escapes in his camp. "There should be more like you," he had said, before he expressed how regrettable it was that "such a good officer" was forced to leave the active Luftwaffe-service because of his eyes-sight problems he "got gloriously in combat".
In earlier times, Klink would have grown a few inches in pride to be praised like this from one of the highest ranking men in Germany, but not anymore. His eye-sight may have turned bad at the left side after the last time he was shot down, but in return his inner eyes had been opened very wide. Everything the brass did, had become dishonest, twisted and sick – and Goering was not one bit better. Rather the opposite. The man radiated with falseness, vanity, smugness and self-love.
The only thing Klink really enjoyed, was Burkhalter's reaction to this all. The Austrian looked as if he had eaten a very large dill pickle, bit in a lemon and drunk sure wine – in this row of order. With rising glee, Wilhelm had taken notice how the general was almost squirming in his seat and forced smiles on his round face, whenever Goering said something positive to him about Klink.
The payback came afterwards, as they were in Burkhalter's office. The general discussed with him the last reports and objected about it to the tiniest details – including Klink's handwriting. "I didn't know that calligraph skills were needed to lead a POW-camp," the Oberst had finally commented as he was about to boil over.
"There is indeed more necessary," Burkhalter had sneered – and Klink had finally enough.
"For Reichsmarschall Goering it was enough, as you clearly heard. But I think, that's the whole point, isn't it?" He had shook his head. "To be jealous is beneath you. A general should be proud that one of his COs got a compliment from one of the highest ranking men within the country; after all this shows his own commanding skills and his fine sense to choose the right men for the right tasks."
The general had first glanced baffled at Klink, then something close to appreciation had mirrored in his eyes, followed by a deep sigh.
"I hope you'll be able to show a back-bone tomorrow during the trial," Burkhalter had changed the topic immediately. "I got a report form the court. Hochstetter's defense is nothing to sneeze at." Then he had given Klink the report – and since then Wilhelm's mood was in the cellars.
Just like the chamber he and the others would sleep in tonight.
Schultz, who knew his superior in and out, watched Klink simply standing there, balling his fists and glaring daggers at the wall. Sighing, he opened the Oberst's suitcase to pack out the few belongings, while at the other side of the wall Schmidt was doing the same with his own luggage he had placed on the bunk there.
"What happened?" Schultz asked quietly and caught Klink's angry, but also nervous gaze.
"Burkhalter showed me the trial-report of the court. Hochstetter wants to press charges against me for attacking him. This is the second reason why I was summoned for the hearing. They want to do it all in one, so to say." He snorted and pressed his lips into a thin line. Robert had been right about Hochstetter's choice of defense.
Horst turned around; frowning. Schultz looked equally irritated. "But you simply defended yourself," Hans said in accordance what they had agreed on in the morning. "I was right behind you and saw everything. You pulled Hochstetter aside, who was about to drown Colonel Hogan, and he instantly lashed out at you. You simply reacted to protect yourself, that's all."
Schmidt joined them. "All I saw was that the major lay on the floor, dizzied, and that Sergeant Schultz held him in check with his riffle. So, he did attack you?" he asked Klink.
"He instantly charged at me as I separated him from Hogan. I blocked and punched him. There was absolutely no time to talk anything out with him, because Hogan's movement had already stilled and I had to revive him instantly. And, by the way, the whole expression of Hochstetter's face, the rage and hate in his eyes and this animalistic snarl he gave me, made it clear that his cholerically temper had gotten the better of him and that his mind was unreachable in the moment. I simply did what duty demanded from me," he added with a shrug.
Schmidt crossed his arms in front of his chest. "That you were forced to revive the colonel is something I can testify on – and also the major's unreasonable fury as soon as someone tried to interrupt him from getting his revenge on Colonel Hogan. As I intercepted the call from General Burkhalter's office and informed Hochstetter about the incoming call for him, he reacted very angry and told me, to say it casually, to sod off. He was enraged that he was forced to interrupt the 'questioning' – meaning the attempted of branding the colonel." He shook his head. "As I told you, I heard him and the colonel talking before I entered the chamber. There is absolutely no doubt that this was nothing else than a personal revenge from Hochstetter's side."
Klink huffed. "Concerning his intention to brand Hogan: He denies it." He got his coat and pulled out the several sheets of the report he had folded and put into the inside pocket. "Here," he said; offering Schmidt and Schultz the notes.
Reading them quickly, Schmidt grimaced. "He lies!" he said. "And I can prove it." He returned to his luggage, pulled his pajama out he had rolled up at the long inner side of the suitcase – and with a clang something long and made of metal rolled on the floor. Quickly the Oberleutnant picked it up.
Klink's eyes widened. "Is this…" he began with rising nausea and walked towards the young man.
Schmidt nodded. "Yes, this is the iron the major wanted to use at the colonel." He showed them the double-S at the fire-poker's end.
For a moment, Klink thought to see the end of the iron gleaming white-red with heat before it was pressed into the soft, silken skin he had caressed so tenderly within the last nights. He felt sick to the core, while he glared at the now harmless piece of iron. This thing had almost branded his beloved witty fox.
"I took it with me as I left the 'questioning-chamber' and hurled it out into the garden from the window in my quarters at the HQ," Schmidt continued. "After your call this morning, I ordered my ordonnance to pack my suitcase and went out into the gardens to find it. I had a certain feeling that this is maybe an important piece of evidence. It took me a quarter hour shoveling snow to find it. Parallel I also ordered the guards, which were on duty during the colonel's arrest and later in the cellars this particular night and early morning, to write a witness report." He pulled an envelop out of the suitcase's cover. "I think, this will be enough for the jury to make the right conclusion concerning the major's state of mind." He handed Klink the envelop.
Opening it, the Oberst read through the reports, and even if the contains made him even more sick as he learned more details of these hours of torture Rob had been forced to endure, a smile began to spread over Wilhelm's face. These reports would be the nails to Hochstetter's coffin.
Looking up, he said quietly, "You do understand that this is the implement for Hochstetter's downfall?"
"We are at war, but we still have some dignity and honor left," Horst replied quietly, but firmly. "What happened to Colonel Hogan is something that occurs everywhere in Germany by now, and what is a shame on its own. I'm no one who closes his eyes to the fact that we've as good as lost the war, and the others know it too. And because of it, everywhere executives are psyching out and getting paranoid. This is not the real German way. Hochstetter is in my eyes a manic who has to be stopped before even more people are harmed because of his madness. This is the reason why those four guards were ready to make a statement against their former superior – and it's also my reason."
Klink put the reports back into the envelop and gave them Schmidt. "Thank you, young friend. I'm really glad that my first impression of you turned out to be true over and over again. You are a honorable man."
Schmidt flushed, smiled at the Oberst and put the envelop back into the hide-out in the suitcase-cover. The same moment someone knocked at the door and a Luftwaffe-private peeked inside.
"Gentlemen? General Burkhalter asks you to join him for dinner."
*** HH *** HH ***
The night was anything but peaceful – not for Hogan and also not for the three men sleeping in the separate chamber in one of the many bunkers which were dug deep into the ground in Berlin and the whole area. They were equipped with everything that was needed, yet to climb down into the earth and to walk those cold and harsh corridors with their gaudy lights, was almost eerie. Odd, Klink hadn't felt this uncomfortable as he walked the tunnels beneath Stalag 13. Maybe it was because the tunnels were more natural, or because the lights were warmer. Or because they built the den and escape ways of his beloved witty fox. And, not to forget, Robert had been with him. Even during dinner he had missed the younger man terribly.
While the Heroes over 600 km away were still angry with this 'damn Prussian slave driver', Schultz and Schmidt were brooding about the upcoming hearing and questioning, before they slipped into sleep.
And Klink?
He lay wide awake after the spartan dinner he and the others had, and his thoughts turned in circles. Was everything all right in the camp? Did his substitute a good job or was he one of those men who used the chance of seeking some revenge against members of the United Allies? If so, Robert wouldn't keep still but would do everything in his might to shield his men, what would lead to trouble. Will knew from own experiences that his American counterpart had a talent to irritate even the most pious monk if he intended to.
But this was not all, Klink pondered about. The upcoming trial was like a dark cloud looming over him – even with Schmidt's unexpected support by bringing further proofs with him for Hochstetter's obvious madness. Okay, the former major wasn't this insane, after all Hogan was indeed Papa Bear and Hochstetter had figured the colonel completely out, but the only thing that counted for Wilhelm now was to eliminate the danger Hochstetter presented for Robert. And after everything the former Gestapo-officer did even against the own people and underlings, he really had deserved a strong punishment. Klink hadn't forgotten that Hochstetter didn't only left him and Hogan during the air-raid, but also three of his own men. Usually comrades tried to get each other out of a danger-zone, but Hochstetter had abandoned those men – not looking back once – and this was a kind of cowardice no honorable man could accept. No, despite the fact that no-one believed Hochstetter that he was right about Hogan, the former major had done too many crimes to show him any grace.
Will sighed soundlessly and turned onto his right side. All these reflections and considerations kept him awake, right, but there was one thing that robbed him of a real rest more than anything else: Robert's absence.
Yes, Wilhelm Klink was used to be alone – especially in private. He practically had slept his whole life alone, if you don't count the nights he had snuggled up with his younger siblings when he was still a child. Okay, there had been a few love-nights, but how little they meant he had realized after his and Robert's relationship had changed. It was something completely different to sleep beside someone you've fleeing liaison with, or to share a bed with someone you love. He missed the warm, strong body beside him, the familiar pleasant scent of the younger man or Robert cuddling against him.
Additional to this, the chamber he and the others slept in, was cold, smelled of earth and was far too silent. To be twelve meters under the ground-level cut off any usual sounds a town or even a nightly wood harbored, was like being in a grave. He felt like being pulled out from his own world and being thrown into an icy and dark one that held no warmth and light at all.
'As soon as this damn trial is over, Schultz, Schmidt and I return to Hammelburg – and if we need the whole night to return. I don't sleep a single night further in this tomb!'
Closing his eyes and imagining that the comforter around him were Robert's arms, he finally was able to fall asleep.
*** HH ***
Hogan also couldn't find any sleep, and stared at the dark ceiling above him he couldn't even see; sulking. He terribly missed Will's presence and it bugged him that he missed the older man so much.
Sweet Lord, they had slept separated only a few nights ago as the Gestapo sniffled around and – yes, he had to admit – it had bothered him then, too. But at least Will had been in the same building, only a few meters away. Now hundreds of kilometer lay between them, and this knowledge stirred him up deep in heart, mind and soul. And this again made him angry with himself.
Heavens, in a week or so he would have to return to the barracks, and then what? Sleepless nights because he missed his lover beside him? He was a well-trained elite-solider who should cover up something like this, but all the stern thoughts he turned against himself didn't help. He felt cold and lonely without Wilhelm at least nearby, and he didn't dare to imagine what would happen when he returned to his own little quarters or when they would have to walk separate ways after the war.
And, additional to this, Robert also was deeply worried for his German counterpart. Yes, Berlin was full of bunkers and other shelters, yet Hogan didn't want to think of all the possibilities which could harm Will.
Highwaymen, rebels, Underground-members and so on would love to kill two Luftwaffe- and a SS-member. The Waffen-SS controlled the highways and main-streets by now, and even with Schmidt being an Oberleutnant of the SS and Klink being a colonel, the insane guys in their grey uniforms with black collars could find several reasons to detain them. A blind shell could explode when the car drove by – or a bombarded house within Berlin could collapse. Or…
"Stop it Robert!" he hissed irritated at himself. "You sound like your Aunt Joanna – always seeing black and fearing the worst! How high, do you think, is the chance that one of these things happen, hm? So stop being such a sissy and have some faith in the Lord!"
He pulled the comforter higher over himself and closed his eyes; determined to find some sleep, yet his thoughts turned over and over back towards the man, who had captured him a way he had never thought possible.
Was Will okay? Had he made it safely to Berlin and were he and the others really at a secured place? Was he sleeping or was he laying there in the cold darkness of a bunker, brooding like he – Hogan – did? Did Will miss him like he, Robert, missed him?
With a groan he snuggled deeper into the pillows; glad that they smelled of Will at least. And as he realized this detail, he rolled his eyes. 'You've really lost it, Robert!' he thought; knowing deep down to what all these signs were pointing. He sighed again and forced himself to relax.
But it lasted more than another hour until he finally drifted slowly into Morpheus' Realm.
*** HH *** HH ***
The next morning began unpleasant for everyone in Stalag 13. Langenscheidt was ordered to chase out the POWs for the roll call at already at six o'clock. Tired, grumbling and freezing the men stood there, were told that there would be a special 'exercise' today and as some of the men coughed, Sandhaus said that, when they were finished with their today's job, they would have a real reason to cough.
"I got a call from SS-general von Greifenhöh yesterday evening. The main road from Hammelburg and the Hoffenstein-Pass, which are barred by the rests of an avalanche, have to be freed from the snow. He sends two tanks which will do the main work, the rest has to be done with shovels. 250 of you will be the first working troop and will be replaced four hours later by the next prisoners." He rose his voice as he heard the first protests. "Silence, or there will be consequences! Every one of you will be a part of the task."
Kinchloe lifted a hand. "We've eight more cases of illness, Kommandant. I require to discharge them from duty."
"Declined!" Sandhaus replied.
Kinchloe was a patient man, but slowly he had had enough. "This is against the Geneva Convention. Sick POWs have a right of medical c…"
"Prisoners have no rights at all!"
"I beg to differ, sir," Kinchloe replied coolly. "We are no criminals. And we are none of your people who dare to use their brains and don't like the ways of 'dear Adolf', for what they're locked away. And we are also no men of 'unworthy' heritage or were born with handicaps, what is reason enough for you guys to regard them as half-humans. We are prisoners of war, and we do have rights like even your beloved Führer accepted!"
Sandhaus looked him up and down. "I don't need lessons – especially not from a half-human," he sneered, before he ignored the PSO. "Dismissed – and be ready for the transport as soon as it dawns!"
"Herr Major, we've only one truck," Langenscheidt cut in; hoping to stall some time and better conditions for the POWs. "The transport and later switch of men you want is impossible to realize."
Sandhaus gave him a sharp glare. "I took care of it. I spoke with Lieutenant von Neuhaus yesterday evening, the current acting CO of the Gestapo-Headquartes in Hammelburg. A very reasonable man, like I realized. He sends over three of his own trucks at seven o'clock and agreed to support us with the vehicles in the next days. So, put the troops together and make certain that at least a sergeant or another noncom of the POWs will have the watch. Send them over to me. They will bail with their lives that none of the prisoners tries to escape."
"This is illegal!" Kinchloe protested; still fuming to be insulted as a 'half-human'.
"What is legal or not, is decided by me. Dismissed, Sergeant. And don't you dare to address me again if you're not required to do so, or you can rest a few days in the cooler!"
"Herr Major, Sergeant Kinchloe is the current senior POW officer and has legally the right to interact with you. Please consider that you overstep your boundaries just right now," Langenscheidt said quietly but firmly in German. He resisted the urge to made himself smaller as he received a fierce glare in return, and added politely, "You are coming from the active service and have no experiences with leading a POW-camp, and you are not familiar with the special rules which are in place for these cases here. May I assist you with a few details?" He nodded towards the Kommandantur and waited. He watched how the officer gritted his teeth while a vein became visible on his temple, but at last he gave the corporal an abrupt nod and gestured to him to go first.
"How dare you to lesson me!" he hissed the moment they stepped into the Kommandantur and had closed the door. "You have absolutely no right to speak like this to your superior!"
"I simply wanted to protect you from General Burkhalter's anger, Herr Major," Langenscheidt answered more calmly than he felt. To admit the truth, his heart was beating in his throat, but he simply knew that Klink expected him to keep the camp together – to safe the relative peace between guards and POWs that had settled in after the Kommandant rescued Colonel Hogan and nursed him back to relative health.
"These men are POWs and protected by the Geneva Conventions and our own laws," he continued; ignoring the fuming gazes and dark expression of the major. "Sternness is certainly necessary to keep the prisoners in check. No-one perfected that more than Oberst Klink – the reason that here was never a successful escape. The camp was even chosen for test-projects over and over again, because of the safety the Oberst grants here. But General Burkhalter and also Oberst Klink always made certain that the POWs are treated with simple human respect and the common politeness that is usual among cultivated people. I dare to add, Herr Major, that it certainly would have consequences when Klink returns, learns of the way you handled the POWs and makes some notes in your file. He is very strict concerning the rules. Therefore my interference a few minutes ago, Herr Major. I wanted to spare you any trouble with the brass."
Sandhaus stared at him for almost a minute, before he took a very deep breath and nodded brusquely. "Understood, Corporal, and thank you for your concern. Dismissed!"
"What about the POWs which were reported ill this morning? They have a right of medical treatment, you know."
"These whole bunch of bastards out there" – he pointed into the direction of the Barracks – "can be happy that we allow them to live their poor life at all. If I would have any saying in it, they have forfeit their right of life the moment they attacked us, yet they eat our scarce bread and have a roof over their heads. They should thank us on their knees instead of making demands!"
"The Führer decided otherwise," Langenscheidt pointed out. "He agreed on the common rules concerning POWs and also ordered that the Geneva Conventions apply to the POW-camps. And they govern cases of illness, so…"
"If it makes you sleeping better than let this scum go to the infirmary." He turned to leave. "And I don't want to hear more about it, understood?" He limped into Klink's office and banged the door close.
Langenscheidt sighed. "Jawohl, Herr Major, and now I inform Colonel Hogan per rule about the ordered task for his men." He had said it quietly enough not to be heard, but at least he had reported his next steps – steps he so didn't look forward to. Grimacing he left the Kommandantur to order Kinchloe to send the new ill-cases to the infirmary and then to keep Hogan updated. And he really – really! – wished Klink would be already back.
*** HH *** HH ***
"We'll need to prove it, otherwise we stand no chance at all," Burkhalter reminded Klink and the others. While at Stalag 13 the first thirty men were transported to the section of the road they would have to clear, the general, Klink, Schultz and Schmidt stepped into the large building that harbored the People's Court; glad to escape the harsh wind that was slowly turning into a storm outside. It was placed in the former King-Wilhelm-Gymnasium in the Bellevue-Street, near the Potsdamer Platz in the Tiergarten (zoo)-quarter.
Klink walked at Burkhalter's side up through the vestibule towards the staircase that led to the upper levels. Behind him he heard Schultz and Schmidt whispering about their surroundings; Bavarian and North-German for once on the same page.
The trial took place on the first level and therefore the men hadn't to go far. Listening to the noises, they walked into the directions a clerk showed them. It didn't slip Klink's attention that it was surprisingly busy within the courthouse given the fact that it was Saturday morning.
"Have those people no home, or why they are here at Saturday?" he asked casually.
"Saturday sessions are not this extraordinary anymore," Burkhalter answered. "As far as I learned, the Court's president – Roland Freisler – has a session here today."
Klink shuddered inwardly. He had heard enough about this particular 'judge', who was a fanatically Nazi and infamous for treating any defendant with malice and exaggerated aggression to mortify the man or woman. It was 'due' to him that the right of real defense had been cancelled – at least for those, who weren't 'valuable' for the Third Reich anymore. He was also the judge how had tried the trial against he conspirators of the 20th July the year prior. As far as Wilhelm knew, more than 2000 death penalties were carried out because of his sentences.
"But this session isn't the one against Hochstetter, I hope," Klink murmured.
Burkhalter snorted. "Of course not. For this Hochstetter is far too unimportant."
They climbed up the stairs and Klink didn't try to think about the fac that this building had been a gymnasium in earlier times. Pupils had studied here; worked to get a good abitur, played pranks, ran down the corridors whenever a teacher wasn't present. A gymnasium always was a place of strict discipline, but also of fun, where young people learned their limits but also began to break those boundaries in their desire to reach greater goals.
From this atmosphere nothing had remained.
Totenkopf-SS-men with automatic rifles were guarding the most doors, red flags with the Hakenkreuz were hanging down from the walls; covering the one or other pageantry from earlier times. Klink winced inwardly. In his eyes it was a shame that the flags hid the art of earlier days, despite the fact that Hitler always called himself a 'lover or arts'. It was as if the 'big bubble-beard' and his fellows wanted to put their mark on everything within the world, no matter how much it defiled everything else other great people had done in the past – people, whose skills the Nazis used to adorn themselves.
'It's about time to put an end on this drama,' Klink thought. 'I only ask myself, why there are still so many men and women who adore this madman and his goonies. Yes, I applauded him, too – once, in earlier times, but I woke up. Why there are still so many people who walk with their eyes tightly closed? Yes, there are those who are afraid to stand up, but there are also those who really regard this insanity as a new kind of bible. What more has to come until they'll see clear?'
Burkhalter stopped beside him, as the clerk pointed towards a waiting area; telling them to have a seat.
Sighing, the four men obeyed. Schmidt sat down beside Klink and placed the bag to his feet he had brought with him. Burkhalter had been curious about it but the Oberleutnant had only told him that it held something that could be very relevant for the trial. Klink had smiled inwardly; knowing exactly what the young man had brought with him.
Being nervous, Klink rose again, walked a little bit up and down, and finally looked at the sign beside the door. "Closed to public," he murmured.
"Of course," Burkhalter nodded. "After all this trial concerns a higher ranking member of the Gestapo and SS. The people shall not lose their trust in those institutions."
Klink made a face. 'As if the most people have already done this and even fear those guys!' he thought.
As invited witnesses, the four officers had to wait outside and were called inside the courtroom. Burkhalter was the first who was summoned, then Klink. Exchanging a last short glance with Schultz, the Oberst stepped into the courtroom; his heart beat in the throat. He hated questionings, he disliked lawyers who always twisted everything to their understanding, and he loathed the current trials, which were in his eyes mostly nothing else than a farce. Yet he hoped that this court material would be a real one, for once. This here was the only possibility to get Hochstetter out of his and Hogan's hair, and he would use this chance with everything he had.
It was only a small courtroom where the trial took place. Klink looked at the jury and gulped as he realized that the chief-judge wasn't alone but was supported by a higher ranking court-master from the Waffen-SS, who obviously belonged to the regional SS-Court. It made sense, after all the defendant was a major of the SS and Gestapo, while the accuser was the Luftwaffe, a part of the Wehrmacht. Returning his attention back to the chief-judge, Klink recognized the insignias of a lieutenant-colonel, what showed him that the officer held the rank of an Oberfeldrichter (likewise of a chief justice).
To the chief-judge's right sat the prosecutor, the Untersuchungsführer (leader of the investigation) – a man in his late forties with the rank of a Hauptmann (captain). Beside the elevated seats of the judges, was the court reporter; an older man who also wore the uniform of the Wehrmacht that held the insignias of a sergeant. To the left of the podium were three further officers of the middle ranks, and Klink assumed that they were here to be trained in becoming 'jurists' themselves.
To Klink's left were the rows of banks on which usually the publicum sat, but they were now abandoned except for the figure of General Burkhalter. To the Oberst's right was the prisoner's dock, where he saw another officer, also of the SS, who was obviously the defense lawyer, and beside him, guarded by two armed policemen, was…
Wolfgang Hochstetter.
Klink had seen the man so many times he had lost count. He had seen the Gestapo- and SS-major enraged, eager, furious, confused and sometimes even uncertain, but NEVER before he had seen the 'poison-gnome' like this.
Even if detained persons rarely wore their 'former' uniform, this favor had been granted to the major, but he seemed to have lost some weight and his hair wasn't this neat as usual. He was pale and dark circles lay beneath his eyes. Yet this wasn't what startled Klink. It was Hochstetter's gaze that was fixed on Klink – a look full of furious determination and scorching hate that seemed to pierce the Oberst like a burning sword.
After confirming his identity, Klink remained in a standing position in the witness stand.
"Oberst Klink, you've been summoned to this Court to be questioned as a witness in the case 'Hochstetter'," the chief-judge began the questioning. "Given the fact that the defendant is a higher ranking Gestapo- and SS-officer with a high success-rate of convicting enemies of the Third Reich, and the risen accusations of the Luftwaffe against him are insubordination and abuse of rank, this trial is made to find out the whole truth." The prosecutor murmured something, and the judge nodded. "Of course, you are right. The Luftwaffe, namely General Burkhalter, has also pressed charges against the major on the behalf of a POW-officer. We ask you to tell the plain truth of what happened from your point of view."
Klink felt a familiar strong streak of nervousness, but somehow he was able to control it suddenly at the mere thought of Robert. He knew that every detail counted, and so he began his statement with the moment he came out of the Kommandantur because of the rising turmoil in the camp and watched Hochstetter punching Hogan, who had been hold by some SS-guards. He pointed out that, despite his questions, Hochstetter refused to give him any information about the accusation he had against Hogan, and only accepted Klink accompanying them after the Oberst exerted leverage on the major, citing the rules and laws.
Telling about the air raid during their drive to Hammelburg, he made no secrets of the cowardice Hochstetter showed as he took the heels instead of doing his duty; letting down three of his own men and a high ranking POW-officer. And especially concerning the latter, Klink pointed out that Hochstetter let his personal feelings ruling his decisions as he had shouted that he had sworn to be Hogan's downfall and that the colonel could go to hell now.
Klink was well aware of the present men stiffening. It wasn't so much because Hochstetter left Hogan to die, but rather because he didn't care for his own men. It was an impossibility to let comrades down; seeking refuge in flight without caring about the own underlings. It was pure cowardice – a crime in the Third Reich. As the chief-judge asked, if Hochstetter also didn't make any attempt to take care of the Oberst's safety, Klink shook his head. "I regret to tell you that Major Hochstetter didn't take care of anyone's safety except his own. He was one of the first who ran to find shelter in the woods."
"Were those three men still alive as he fled?" the SS-court-master wanted to know, and watched Klink intensely; still half baffled, half amused that the Luftwaffe-officer wore a monocle. The man really seemed to be a relic from earlier times.
The Oberst nodded.
"Yes, Your Honor. I saw it after I shot Colonel Hogan's handcuffs and we turned to flee. We recognized that they still lived, but before we could do anything, the hostile air crafts were over us again and we threw ourselves on the ground in an attempt to escape certain death. As the attack was over, the three men were dead and I was wounded. I owe Colonel Hogan my life, because instead of using the chance to flee, he helped me to find cover in the woods, while from Major Hochstetter no track was left."
"Do I get this right?" the SS-Court-Master dug deeper. "Colonel Hogan was ready to help the three SS-men?"
"Yes, he wanted to help," Klink nodded. Okay, they hadn't even spoken about the wounded guards at this moment, but the Oberst knew his American counterpart far too well. If there would have been the tiniest chance to safe those men, Hogan would have helped.
"And afterwards he supported you," the chief-judge frowned. "It's an unusual behavior for a POW, don't you agree?"
"I disagree in this particular case, Your Honor," Klink replied. "Colonel Hogan is an opponent officer, yes, but also a man of honor. We have to interact every day with each other because of his position as my senior POW officer, so we came to know each other. It taught us to respect the other one. And concerning those minutes during the air raid: I saved his life only a few moments ago as I returned and shot his handcuffs. He wouldn't have survived the next attack. After I got injured because of me rescuing him, it was a question of honor for him to aid me. We fled into the woods and waited until the air raid was over. We also waited if Major Hochstetter or a few of his men would come looking for us, but after nothing happened, we began to walk back to the camp, but lost our way. So…"
"I went back for you, Klink!" Hochstetter hissed; ignoring his own lawyer who tried to interrupt him. "I came back to search for you, but you preferred to tramp with your American friend through the woods instead of waiting for me."
The chief-judge lifted his hammer to demand silence, but the Oberst was quicker.
Somehow Klink was very much calmer than he had ever thought possible, as he turned his head and looked the smaller man sternly in the eyes. "Even if you maybe returned, what I cannot affirm, it was too late. If it wouldn't have been for Hogan, I would be dead – and he, too. You left us to die and ran for shelter. And not only us, but also three of your own men. If you would be half of the leader you pretend to be, you would have tried to safe them. But you preferred to run like a rabbit. That's a fact. And it's 'Oberst' Klink for you!"
Hochstetter stared at him for a moment; flabbergasted. Burkhalter, too, looked with big eyes at the Saxonian. There was no uncertainness, no ducking, no foolish behavior, only a display of coolly sternness. And this in such a situation. What, the hell, had happened to Klink?
The two leading judges, not knowing of the Luftwaffe-Oberst's usual lack of courage, had their attention turned completely to Hochstetter. The chief-judge gave the shorter man a short gaze of disgust before he warned, "I ask the defendant to skip any further interruptions."
Gritting his teeth, Hochstetter nodded. "Of course, Your Honor. I apologize."
The judge looked back at Klink. "Herr Oberst, please continue,"
"Of course, Your Honor," the camp-Kommandant bowed his head almost elegantly, and resumed to retell everything from his point of view. He told about his coming back to the camp together with Hogan the next morning after finding shelter in a farm. He spoke of his travel to the hospital, thinking his camp in good care, only to learn the following morning that the SS had taken over – without any reason – and that his senior POW officer had been all but kidnapped without a Luftwaffe-officer's presence during the questioning like it was law; and like Hochstetter knew exactly.
"How did you learn of these events?" the prosecutor interrupted the tale, and Klink took a deep breath.
"One of my POWs, who belongs to the same barrack like Colonel Hogan, escaped the camp and sought me out in the hospital; telling me what happened."
A few whispers from the three justice-trainees were to hear, before the SS-court-master asked thunderstruck, "One of your prisoners informed you? He didn't flee but ran to you?"
"There are a few men around Colonel Hogan, who have become his friends. The prisoner in question belongs to them, and saw no other way to help his superior than coming to me to get my aid."
"Major Hochstetter told me that you're very proud of the fact that there was never a successful escape in your camp," the defense lawyer cut in.
Klink gave him an almost arrogant smile. "At the time the POW escaped, not my men but the SS was in charge."
"Do you imply that the SS doesn't do its job correctly?" the SS-court-master cut in sharply, and Klink hurried to reply,
"No, of course not. I simply stated the fact that under the command of the Luftwaffe not one successful escape from Stalag 13 was registered." A clever gleam lay in his eyes that – fortunately – wasn't registered by the lawyers.
"What happened to the POW?" the chief-judge asked.
"He is back in the camp. He didn't even try to escape but returned on his own free will – certainly to spare his friends consequences," Klink answered.
"Was he punished?" the prosecutor wanted do know and the Oberst looked at him as if the man had lost his mind.
"Corporal LeBeau informed me of an illegal overtaking of my camp and my senior POW officer's kidnapping. He didn't even try to escape afterwards. No, I didn't punish him – in agreement with General Burkhalter, of course." He nodded towards his superior, who lifted a brow but made also an affirming gesture.
"It's up to the Kommandant and General Burkhalter how to deal with their POWs as long as it done in the frame of rules," the chief-judge cut in. "Please continue, Oberst Klink."
The Saxonian took a deep breath, then he spoke about his arrival at the Gestapo-Headquarters, where Hochstetter was still 'questioning' Hogan in the cellars; trying to murder him the moment Klink stepped into the room. He told about the short combat that enfolded instantly, how he – Klink – was forced to retrieve the badly injured American and how General Burkhalter arrived a minute or so later, sending them both back to the camp.
Afterwards he gave a short report about Hogan's condition and that a doctor from the Hammelburger hospital had to treat him. "He is still healing and is unable to resume his duty as senior POW officer until now," he finished his report.
Taking a deep breath, he dared to ask, "May I add a personal opinion to the whole matter?" He straightened his lean frame, as the chief-judge made an affirming gesture. "This whole incident went completely out of control because of Major Hochstetter's personal feelings. His decisions concerning my senior POW officer, me and his three dead men, bore the stamp of hatred towards Colonel Hogan and partly towards my person. In my eyes, he abused his rank and position for personal reasons, broke several laws and rules in the process and also used inacceptable 'methods of questioning' against my senior POW officer."
"The colonel belongs to the enemy," the SS-court-master reminded him.
Klink lifted both brows. "I know that we are at war and that Colonel Hogan belongs to the enemy. I'm also aware that given the whole situation in this war, sometimes more harsh methods are necessary to protect our country, but this here was out of any league. POWs are usually protected by the Geneva Conventions and by several of German articles of law. The kind of torture, like Major Hochstetter used or threatened my senior POW officer with, are illegitimated, and shows the major's state of mind – and his twisted sense of duty. To have an accusation against an eventually spy and to convict the person is one thing. To be obsessed with said person, denying any checking of given alibis and to break law because there was no other possibility left in the end to get personal revenge, is a crime and a disgrace for every member of the executive forces within our country – not to speak of his shown cowardice a day prior. I hope that the Court will consider this all when making the sentence."
The chief-judge watched him for a moment mindfully, then he nodded shortly and looked down on some notes. "Oberst Klink, before I turn the floor to the defense lawyer, the Court has a few questions for you. It has been brought to our attention that there was a hand-to-hand combat between your and Major Hochstetter, you even affirmed a minute ago. The major wants to press charges against you for attacking a fellow-officer." He looked up again and fixed Klink. "I'm sure you know that it is a gravely crime to attack a fellow-officer. If this court concludes that you are guilty of this deed, charges will be pressed against you at the Reichskriegsgericht (Reich Court Material) in Torgau. Have you anything to say to this accusation?"
Burkhalter pressed his lips into a thin line and looked at Klink; praying that the other man would remain this calm like he was until now, or him punching Hochstetter would come back at the Kommandant.
Klink took again a deep breath. Yes, he and Schultz had agreed on one of the same statement – that Hochstetter had attempted to attack first and that he, Klink, had only defended himself. Yet Wilhelm felt the first dread crawling up his spine…
TBC…
Well, of course Hochstetter has some aces up his sleeve, and with Klink attacking him while saving Hogan, is the major's big chance to turn the wheel again – even with the evidences Schmidt has collected against him.
The next chapter will be about the whole trial; up and downs, hopes and risks – and a justice that isn't a justice at all.
I hope, you enjoyed the chapter despite the (once again) existing errors, and – PLEASE – if there is someone who can help me with a little bit beta-reading, it would be so much better for all of us.
Like always, I'm curious what you think of the chapter, so… (hint, hint).
Have a nice week,
Love,
Yours Starflight
