Hi, my dear readers,

Just like promised, here is the next chapter – not beta-read, like mentioned, so sorry for the errors. For those, who just saw that the story is finally updated, but don't remember the last chapter-number and clicked on this chapter: It is the second chapter I publish today, so if you haven't read the prior one, please switch back or you're going to miss some crucial things. I only posted two new installments, because I'm as good as off to holidays and I know how much you all wait for the re-union of our two boys.

This chapter is a crucial one, too.

Schmidt gets help with the baby, Klink returns to the camp (and to the deeply worried Hogan) and Sandhaus gets his first lesson what it means to mess with Wilhelm's Stalag and men (and with the POWs). Once again the 'Balding Eagle' becomes the 'Iron Eagle', before he finally sees his witty fox again.

Have fun,

Love

Yours Starflight

Chapter 45 – Coming ‚home'

It was deep at night and the wind drove along the snowflakes which had begun to fall an hour ago. The air was icy and woe those who hadn't a warm place to stay. The snow scrunched beneath the tires as the car searched its way along the small street in the middle of the woods; the headlights glowed like pale ghosts through the darkness.

At the end of the street a farmhouse with a stable and a barn was to see, and a minute later the car stopped in front of the house whose inhabitants were deeply asleep.

But not for very much longer.

Leopold Schneider was torn out of his slumber, as he heard a loud pounding at the front door. Given the fact that during night every power was switched off, the doorbell didn't ring, and so he needed a moment to became fully awake.

"Poldi, someone is at the door," his wife Luisa whispered beside him fearfully.

Visitors at night could only mean two things: People at need or the Gestapo.

"Good dammit," the older man murmured and threw the covers aside; flinching as his crippled leg (a 'souvenir' of the first war) gave him new trouble. Slipping into his housecoat and gripping for the matches and the candle on the nightstand, he heard the pounding again. Cursing, he enlightened the candle, limped out of the bedroom and down the wooden stairs to the ground-level.

"I'm coming!" he called, reached the door, unlocked it and opened the entrance.

He had assumed everything: Allied soldiers, escaped POWs, the Gestapo, the SS – but never this.

"Oberst Klink!?" he gasped, as he recognized one of the two men he knew from former short meetings, and who stood now at the threshold – dirty, eyes reddened and obviously exhaust. "Thank the Lord, Herr Oberst, you're alive!" he said; real relief washed through him. "We were so shocked as we learned about the air-raid, knowing that you are in Berlin." Then he looked at the second man this late night had brought at his doorstep. "Sergeant Schultz, how good that you made it, too. Hilda was beside herself with worry for the two gentlemen."

Klink smiled tiredly at him; trying to get the shivering under control. Exhaustion and the temperature chilled him to the bones. "Thank you, Herr Schneider, and I apologize for the disturbance at this God-forsaken late hour, but we need your help," he answered hoarsely; teeth chattering

Hilda's father, glad that the two men survived the horrible air-raid in the capital, smiled at him as he recognized how much the staff-officer was freezing. "Of course, Herr Oberst. Please come in. You too, Herr Feldwebel. It's far too cold outside."

Klink shook his head. "I would like to have a short break and to get warm, Herr Schneider, but see, we're not alone and…"

"HERR KOMMANDANT!"

The female scream came from above. A moment later, Hilda stormed down the wooden staircase. Only clad in her nightgown and an open dressing gown, with slippers on her feet, she steadied herself at the hand-rail while racing down to the house's ground-level. Not caring that she was anything but properly dressed and that the man at the threshold was her boss, she ran towards Klink and fell round his neck; sniffling in deep relief. "Thank the Lord, you're all right!" she said at his shoulder; squeezing him. "I feared the worst!"

Completely taken by surprise by this kind of warm welcome and open display of honest joy, he returned the embrace a little bit gauche and clapped the young woman gently on the back, as he heard her suppressed sob.

"Easy, my dear, I'm okay," he mumbled; touched how much she cared for him.

"Hilda!" her father rebuked her softly. "This is really no proper way to greet your superior."

Klink gave him a short smile. "Please don't get me wrong here, Herr Schneider, but I prefer your daughter's impulsive reaction a hundred times over the display of false reactions from my colleagues."

Hilda looked up at him; eyes damp but shining. "I'm so glad that you survived, sir." Stepping on the tip of her toes, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, what made him chuckle awkwardly.

"Well, I did my best to send the Grim Reaper away again."

Hilda giggled, then her gaze found the large Bavarian, and with another happy squeal – "SCHULTZIE!" – she gave the Sergeant of the Guards the same welcome like Klink.

"Hilda!" Luise Schneider, carrying a second candle, came also down the stairs now. "Child, you can't simply hug the Herrn officers!" That Schultz was no officer, didn't count in the moment.

"It's all right, Frau Schneider, our Hilda is the best," Schultz smiled at the lady of the house, while Klink had lifted his cap; bowing with stiff movements.

"Ma'am, I'm deeply sorry to disturb your well-earned night-rest, but… we need your help. Better to say, not we, but someone else is in need for your support. And regrettable it can't wait until tomorrow morning." He turned around towards the staff-car that parked a few meters away, and waved.

The door of the passenger seat opened and Herr Schneider stiffened as he recognized in the still switched on headlines the black SS-uniform. Asking himself why, for God's sake, a SS-man needed help, he waited silently until the officer came nearer.

"Oberleutnant Schmidt," Hilda said with a completely different, yet gentle smile. "I'm happy that you made it, too." She hadn't forgotten that this man spared Robert one of the most cruel tortures and that he even tried to get help for the American. If Schultz was one thing, then he was a gossipmonger, and like this she has learned of Schmidt's honorable deeds.

Her father looked shortly at her – somehow her voice sounded different; not warily but… warm? Glancing back at the newcomer, he carefully observed him. He was a younger man – at his late twenties, if Schneider saw it correctly, with blond hair and an attractive face. His black uniform and the coat showed the poor attempts of brushing off dust and ashes, just like this of the two Luftwaffe-members, and he was pale with exhaustion, yet he moved with strong steps. And Leopold asked himself, what the young man carried in the blanket he held carefully in his arms.

"Good evening," Schmidt greeted quietly. "I apologize deeply for the disturbance, but… we're in need for your help." He cleared his throat as he saw Hilda standing between Klink, Schultz and an older man, who obviously was her father. Of course it didn't slip his attention that she only wore a night- and open dress gown, and it made her even prettier than the skirts, pullover or blouses she usually wore. Rebuking himself for his slip of attention, he began anew, "I wanted to say that not we, but he needs your help."

He looked down on the bundle in his arms and carefully pulled one part of the plaid away. Herr Schneider gasped. A baby?

Hilda stared with wide eyes at the little face, peaceful in sleep, that emerged within the thick folds of the blanket. "Oh my God," she whispered, edged her way through Klink and Schultz, and stopped in front of Schmidt; the iciness of the wind forgotten for the moment. Her large, dark eyes hung with spontaneous affection at the infant, while she reached out but didn't dare to touch the little guy; concerned she would wake him. Looking up at Schmidt, she asked quietly, "How did you get the little one?"

"We found him beneath his mother's body in Berlin – after the air-raid was over" Klink's voice sounded softly in her back, and she looked over her shoulder at the Oberst, who continued, "We hid in a subway station, and after the ambush we found our car, but before we could get into it, Oberleutnant Schmidt heard baby-crying, despite the hellish noises around us. It was him, who found the little guy."

"And… his mother?" Frau Schneider asked, who had joined the men by now.

"She obviously tried to protect him by shielding him with her body, but… she was slain by flying around debris," Schmidt answered quietly. "As we found her, she was already dead."

Hilda had reached out again and moved gently one finger over the warm, soft cheek of the little guy. The result were quiet bubbles and a satisfied smacking of the lips.

"Any idea, who he is – or if he has some family left?" Herr Schneider wanted to know; seeing with a mixture of alert and surrender how much his daughter was caught by the baby.

"The woman wore a dog-tag around her neck we took with us," Schmidt answered. "Tomorrow or the day after I'm going to do some intense researches about the fallen owner of the dog-tag, and if there are any relatives left, but it will last until I get information. I'll try to contact the WASt, where all Wehrmacht-members are listed, but then… I don't know if the Reichs-Citizens Registration Office in Berlin was also hit, and as far as I know all telephone-lines to Berlin are cut off in the moment, so it will cost days until I maybe get some answers. I also try to get some information from the Wehrmacht concerning the dog-tag. Oberst Klink promised me his help, but…" He looked down at the small boy in his arms.

"Before we talk more, please come in. It's too cold for everyone out there," Herr Schneider insisted; being the practical person just like his daughter.

A few moments later the entrance door closed behind the three men in uniform and the others. The vestibule was only illuminated by the two candles, and therefore Frau Schneider quickly enlightened a petroleum lamp that stood on a small table near the entrance. In the dark semi-light she turned around again. Her gaze found the young man, who held the infant protectively against his chest.

"You want us to take care of the baby until you find members of his family," she hit the nail on the head.

Almost sheepishly Schmidt glanced at her. "Yes," he nodded, before he hastily added, "It will be only for a few days. The orphanages are overcrowded, not only here but also in Berlin. Everything around us was burning, and I couldn't leave the little guy, so I took him with me." He sighed. "I know that everything is rare and rationed now in Germany, and you certainly pull through only barely in these dark times, but I got some utensils for his needs from the Wehrmacht-base we stopped at after we left Berlin. Make-shift nappies, semolina porridge, some apples and bananas… I even got a baby bottle at a pharmacy we stopped at during our way to Hammelburg."

Before her parents could answer, Hilda smiled, "We'll manage, Herr Oberleutnant. We've one cow left so we've milk for him. And…"

"I'll get you additional ration stamps," Horst interrupted her with a beginning mixture of hope, relief and gratefulness. "It will equal your need for nourishment and… And will help you to care for him properly."

For a long moment there was silence. Then, "Where shall he sleep? We've no cradle here and…" Frau Schneider began hesitantly.

"Margarethe's son is three now and she told me that she and her husband put the cradle in the cellar. I'm sure she lends me the cradle for a few days," Hilda smiled. "Maybe she has some baby-clothes spared and…"

"Hilda, Margarethe is pregnant and will need the cradle for her own baby," Frau Schneider threw in for consideration.

"She is not due for the next three months, and until then everything will be arranged." She glanced up at Schmidt. "I'll take care of him."

Horst sighed facilitated. "Thank you, Fräulein Hilda. I'll support you as good as I can."

"Hilda, what's about your job?" Herr Schneider asked quietly; looking at Klink.

"If you need a few days off until everything is settled, I've nothing against it," the Oberst said softly.

Hilda sighed. "Herr Kommandant, thank you for your kindness, but I think you're going to need every help you can get to put some order back in your office – and the whole camp."

Alerted, Klink made a step into her direction. "What do you mean? What happened in my camp?"

"Major Sandhaus happened," she deadpanned. "He is a tyrant who mistakes a POW-camp with a KZ, hates every POW on principle, ignores the Geneva Conventions and regards civilian volunteers as a waste. Therefore I didn't come over to the camp today, like I do it often at Saturday. I didn't want to see him again and hoped for your return 'til Monday."

Klink had stiffened; his eyes were narrowed. "He's this bad?"

"Worse! I don't know how Sergeant Kinchloe could remain calm like he was – despite the low offenses he was confronted with because of his heritage."

"What about Ro… Hogan?" Wilhelm asked; tensed.

"He and the major clashed. Karl… Corporal Langenscheidt told me how unpolite and insolent the major treated the colonel, yet Hogan remained in control, but gave the major some pieces of his mind." She smiled shortly. "You know him."

Klink groaned, closed his eyes and shook his head. He hoped that not everything had gone down the hill. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Hans. "Schultz, get the utensils for the baby from the car. I think, I should have been back in the camp hours ago."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz said and left quickly the house.

Hilda reached out with both hands, and Schmidt put the baby carefully in her arms. His gaze hung warmly and almost lovingly at the tiny face. "Behave, little one," he whispered; touching the soft cheek with one finger.

"Does he have a name?" the young woman asked, and Horst sighed.

"Certainly, but I don't know it." He smiled shortly. "I've begun to think of him as Manfred during our way back to Hammelburg."

Hilda chuckled, while she cradled the baby against her chest. "You do know what this name means?"

"Yes, 'Man' is the ancient German word for 'man', and 'fred' means 'Friede' (peace). I think, what the little guy needs the most is peace, so…" He shrugged. He caught Hilda's shining glance, and felt – to his horror – heat spreading into his face.

Looking down on the baby-boy in her arms, she murmured, "Manfred… A strong name. You'll have it good here."

Schmidt felt a short pang in his chest at the thought to leave the baby now. He had feed, cradled and hold him during their way back to Hammelburg, and along the hours it took, the little guy had calmed down and even snuggled closer to him; instinctively feeling safe in the man's arms who had brought him away from all the noises and smells his senses identified as danger.

"Thank your for your help, and once again my deepest apologizes for the late disturbance," Horst said to the family and bowed his head. "With your permission, I'll come tomorrow in the afternoon and try to organize some supplies for the baby."

"You're welcome here, Herr Oberleutnant," Herr Schneider said; having realized that the officer was a decent man despite the uniform he wore. And he intendent to ask his daughter some questions about Schmidt, at whom she looked with a special gleam in her eyes.

"Good night, Ma'am," Klink said; bowing in front of Hilda's mother and shook then Herr Schneider's hand. "Fräulein Hilda," he addressed his secretary. "As much as I'm glad whenever you take lead of the office and do the worst of my paperwork, you'll be in trouble if I see your pretty face near the camp at Monday. First take care of 'Manfred' and I would be grateful to be kept updated. I'm sure General Burkhalter wants to learn, too, what had become of the little guy."

"So, General Burkhalter made it, too?" Hilda asked not without a little bit relief. Yes, Burkhalter was someone who sailed close to the wind and ignored the one or other rules, especially concerning those which handled the presence of dangerous weapons or storages at POW-camps, yet she knew that he was, deep down, no bad guy.

"Yes, we were on our way to South-East-Berlin after the trial, as the alert sounded. Like this we escaped – barely," Schultz said, who just came back into the house, carrying the sack with him, in which the supplies were they had gotten at the Wehrmacht-base and the pharmacy. He offered it to Frau Schneider, while Hilda looked at her boss.

"You were already done at the Court as the alert began? This I'm calling fortunate. They said at the radio that Berlin-Middle and the quarters from the west-south to the north-east were hit at strongest."

Wilhelm nodded. "Yes, the trial was over and we all wanted to forget the ugly scenes, so I invited the Gentlemen to a Vienna Café-House I knew from my time in Berlin. We didn't make it to there, but found shelter in a subway-station in Neukölln."

Hilda cooked her head. "And Major Hochstetter?"

"Was stripped off his rank, kicked out of the Gestapo and SS, and was sentenced to eight years working camp – mainly for insubordination, abuse of rank, cowardice and display of dishonorable behavior." Klink shrugged; even if it bothered him that the verdict was handed down without consideration of what Hochstetter had done to Robert. Yet the outcome counted more. "We're rid of him; this is all that counts."

The young woman nodded; glad that this danger for Robert and the others, but also for Klink was finally over. Looking down at the infant in her arms, she turned her attention to her mother. "I will get my linen chest ready in my room with a few pillows and blankets. This will do for tonight."

"I'll help you," Frau Schneider nodded.

The three men in uniform bid farewell, apologized for the late disturbance once again and thanked for the help, then they left. And it didn't slip Klink's attention that Fräulein Hilda and Schmidt exchanged a look that was full of softness – something that filled him with relief out of two reasons:

One, the two would have to interact with each other within the next days (or weeks), and two: He knew that Hilda and Hogan flirted, and that the young woman harbored deeper feelings for the American. If her interest changed now towards another man – a decent and honorable one, no less – then it meant that the flirting between his secret lover and his secretary would sooner or later stop.

No, he didn't distrust Robert – or Hilda – but he knew himself. He would get jealous if he would see the two battering their lashes at each other as soon as Hogan was well enough to resume his duties as POW-officer. And if Hilda developed feelings for young Schmidt, it would be good for all of them.

Climbing into the passenger seat of the car, he glanced at Schmidt, whose gaze still hung at the farm-house. "Tear yourself away from the young lady, Herr Oberleutnant," he teased with a tired voice. "You'll see her soon enough again."

Horst flushed. "I… I thought of Manfred."

Klink chuckled, while Schultz rolled good-willed his eyes. "Of course," the large Bavarian murmured, while slipping behind the wheel. "Where to, Herr Oberst?"

"Would you mind much, if we first go to the camp and one of my guards drives you to Hammelburg afterwards?" Wilhelm addressed Schmidt, who sat down on the back-seat.

"No, no problem," he replied; too lost in thoughts and too tired to mind anything in the moment. He wanted nothing more than take a shower, lay down and sleep for the next twenty-four hours – even if the latter was impossible. And then he wanted to go back to the farm-house to lend the incredible young lady a hand – and to see 'Manfred' again.

As Klink suggested that his secretary would take care of the baby, Schmidt had first declined. No, he didn't think that the young lady was incapable of taking care for the little tad, but he didn't want to drop something this unexpectedly on her. He had come to regard her as a fine young woman, who stood her 'man' within a world full of men. How extraordinary she had to be was clearly to see in the POWs' behavior towards her, because never Schmidt had witnessed during his two visits in Stalag 13 that the prisoners met her with something else than kindness and respect. To take her by surprise like this now, had cost some clear arguments from Klink to convince him.

And now he was happy – happy to have found a place for the baby and to see that he hadn't misjudged the young woman. She really was someone special. And when he remembered her shining eyes as she looked at him and then the infant, his heart-beat increased. He remembered how the candles had bathed her open hair in a bright light, and how she had looked in the long night- and dress-gown: Like an angle. And for the first time since he had come to Hammelburg, he hoped to have found another reason than duty to stay here.

Sighing he leant back and glanced out of the side-window. They drove in silence down the small street and five minutes later they saw the searching lights shining through the branches; then the wires came into view. "Home, sweet home," Klink murmured; feeling a part of the tension and the echoes of the horror he and the others had faced, leaving him a little bit.

They stopped at the gate and, to Klink's joy, the guards stared at first with big eyes at him and Schultz, then grinned, stiffened and saluted properly. Yet their relief to see him, warmed him. Maybe Robert was right, and the guards did regard him – Klink – in another light now.

They parked the car beside the Kommandantur and left it. It was eerily silent; only the wind howled through the empty branches nearby, while snow and frozen soil crunched beneath their feet. Yet Klink felt at peace for the first time since he received Burkhalter's call two mornings ago, and he took a deep breath; relishing in the well-known scent of the soil and the woods around him, mixed with the smell of furnaces.

A sergeant came running, saluted and said quietly, "Welcome back, Herr Kommandant. We're very glad that you and the others escaped the air-raid in Berlin."

"Thank you, Sergeant Hainer," Klink nodded. "Please be so kind and take care that the car is refueled. Afterwards one of the guards shall take Oberleutnant Schmidt to the Gestapo-headquarters."

The sergeant saluted. "Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," sat down on the driver seat and steered the car towards the motor-pool. And clearly Klink could see the happy expression on the man's face. Sweet Lord, what had this Sandhaus done in only two days that the guards beamed like children beneath the Christmas-Tree because he, Klink, was back?

Looking at Schmidt, he offered his hand. "Thank you for everything you did, Herr Oberleutnant. Your matter of prudence to get the statements of the guards in the Gestapo-HQ and you taking the poker with you, were the last stones which sealed Hochstetter's doom. With him gone, there will be finally some peace in the area."

Schmidt smiled and shook Klink's hand. "It was a question of justice. And it was a pleasure to work together with you." He offered his hand to Schultz. "The same goes for you, Sergeant. I hope, the gentlemen have a fitful night-rest."

"Yes, as short as it will be," Klink sighed while looking at his wrist-watch: Almost three o'clock in the morning. "Good night, Herr Schmidt – and… my deepest respect how you handled the crisis in Berlin in the subway station and later with Little Manfred."

"The same goes for you, Herr Oberst. The way you remained calm while driving us away from the danger-zone, was formidable. We all certainly wouldn't have survived, if it hadn't been for your level-headed reactions, so: Thank-you!" He saluted. "Good night, Gentlemen." With those words he headed towards the motor-pool to wait there until the stuff-car was refueled.

Klink watched him go and looked at Schultz, as the sergeant murmured, "We're alone for the first time since Berlin, Herr Kommandant, so please allow me a question. It was indeed Hogan who called you at the Court and he warned you about the upcoming air-raid, correct?"

Klink nodded slowly. "Yes, it was him. And he risked everything to warn us." He smiled shortly. "Damn rascal!" he whispered gently, then he straightened his shape. "Please be so kind and leave a note at Langenscheidt's chamber, Schultz. Roll call shall not take place earlier than nine o'clock. You can take the day off tomorrow."

Schultz beamed at him. "Thank you, Herr Kommandant."

Klink waved it off. "No reason to thank me, Schultz. You did damn well in Berlin, too. And you saved a little girl. I'm proud of you."

Hans took a deep breath, even if it was uncomfortable cold. "Where will you sleep? I think, the major took your guest-chamber and you can't sleep beside Colonel Hogan with the major being in the same house."

"Don't remind me," Wilhelm murmured. "I'll take the sofa. It will do for tonight." He nodded at the large Bavarian, who saluted and left for the guards' quarters.

For a few minutes Klink did nothing else than standing in the compound and let the calmness and peace of the night and the snow sinking in. Here he was at home – as odd as it sounded. Here, among the wooden barracks in the middle of no-where, save from the war's cruelness and near the man he loved.

Robert…

He pondered the thoughts to wake the younger man up to let him know that he was back, but he didn't know if…

Loud voices from the guards' quarters drifted through the night, and in one he recognized Schultz. A very furious Schultz!

This was… strange.

It needed a lot to get the man really angry.

Sighing and throwing a longing glance at the single, little house not far away, he turned around and headed to the long building that held the dorms; cursing inwardly. God dammit, hadn't he earned some rest by now?

Stepping into the house, he was greeted with some sleepy soldiers who came out of their dorms – partly in nightgowns, partly in pajamas, and looked with hooded eyes and barely awake at him.

"Herr Kommandant!" several whispered as they recognized him, and again he saw a few beaming smiles (what a difference to the hidden dislike he was used to in earlier times), but his attention was driven to Schultz' furious voice and another one, he had never heard before.

Turning to the right, where the single chambers of the lower-ranking officers were placed, Klink stopped dead in his tracks at the view in front of him.

Schultz stood at the entrance of his chamber, held in his left hand his rifle and gestured wildly with his right arm; face flushed in the light of the lamp at the ceiling. In front of him stood a man of middle age and with dark hair. He wore a moustache trainer beneath his nose and was clad in a nightgown, under which spindly, hairy legs peaked out. Usually this would have been an amusing view, if it wouldn't have been for the man's enraged expression on the flushed face and his shouts, which matched Schultz' own loudness.

And the man had obviously come from Schultz' chamber! What the heck…!?

"Was ist hier los?" (What's going on here!)

Klink's voice rarely thundered, but just right now it did – and it silenced the two squabbles instantly.

"Herr Kommandant, this roughcast hoaxer here has made himself comfortable in my chamber during my absence, and has no scruple to beef about me disturbing his night-rest!" Schultz complained, while pointing nonchalant at the intruder. "And then he has the nerve to shout at me."

"How dare you to call me something like this and to point a finger at me!" the other man snarled. "Stand at attention when you're speaking with the camp's Kommandant, Sergeant, or I'll make you face court-material."

"Haaaa," Schultz laughed loudly without any humor. "And now this rowdy says, he's our Kommandant." He looked down at the smaller man. "Usually I'm a patient man and it needs a lot to irritate me, but so much insolence has to be punished. GUARDS!" he called over his shoulder.

Promptly three guards on duty appeared. "Arrest this man!" both apples of discord said in union; pointing at each other.

The three guards looked uncertainly at Klink, who had crossed the arms in front of his chest, cocked his head and pondered the decision, if he should be amused or angry. He chose the first, because he assumed who the 'hoaxer' was. Groaning, he stepped nearer. "Schultz," he said calmly. "I think, I know who this man is." He glanced at the other male. "Major Sandhaus, correct?"

Sandhaus looked him up and down – a stiffened. "Oberst Klink, I presume."

"Indeed," Wilhelm nodded. He closed the distance to the two men and straightened his tall frame, as he faced Sandhaus. "Oberst Wilhelm Klink, Kommandant of Stalag 13. And you, Herr Major, are occupying the chamber of my Sergeant of the Guards, who is – by the way – my substitute. Care to explain, why you're sleeping here and not in the guest-room of my quarters? Are they not to your liking?" A small dangerous undertone echoed in his voice – exactly this kind of undertone that told everyone, who knew him, that he was about to explode, because against his own will irritation woke in him.

Sandhaus took a deep breath, saluted shortly – after all the other man held a higher rank – and answered coolly, "Your quarters have a pleasant atmosphere and you certainly know how to make you at home here, Herr Oberst, but I rather sleep on the street than sharing a roof with a damn Ami!" He spat the last words.

Klink felt deep anger rising in him. No-one insulted his Robert! Yet he had to be carefully to give not them both, and his own regards of the Allies away. "Colonel Hogan is the senior POW officer of this camp for almost three years now, and a well-risen and honorable man. His heritage is no reason to insult him."

Sandhaus gritted his teeth. "I already learned that you have a rather high tolerance for the scum within the barracks, but…"

"Major Sandhaus," Klink warned. "I have some tolerance for everything, but one thing I do NOT tolerate: Insults and general hate against everyone who wasn't born in this country. My POWs are no scum!"

"He called them worse before," another voice said from behind. "He treats them like dirt and wanted to deny the sick-ones medical care."

The men turned around, and Sandhaus snarled, "You're restricted to your dorm. Return or you can spend the rest of the night in the cooler!"

Klink frowned as he saw one of the corporals, he worked closer and very well with. "Langenscheidt?" he asked baffled.

"Herr Kommandant, I'm glad that you're well and back," the corporal answered and saluted properly, despite his nightgown. Klink returned the greeting, before he glanced back at Sandhaus. "Corporal Langenscheidt is restricted to his 'dorm'? He has an own chamber."

"Where the major's driver sleeps," Karl threw in.

"The corporal was released from duty because of impertinent behavior against a superior, insolence and beginning rebellion."

"Karl – 'impertinent behavior'? 'Rebellion'? Ha, that gives one a horse laugh," Schultz scoffed with an unamused sneer; eyes flashing.

"I only drove the major's attention to the Geneva Conventions, for which he 'doesn't care', and to the rules 'which are made only by him'," Langenscheidt said calmly; having Klink's full attention. "His words, not mine. He also threatened the POWs – especially the Americans – to make them pay for him being shot down and for Berlin yesterday. As I tried to explain to him – again – that there are other rules within a POW-camp, he released me of duty."

"You threatened me!" Sandhaus hissed.

Langenscheidt felt a new bolt of adrenalin shooting through him that was mainly initiated by his sense of justice. "I dared to drive your attention to my duty to report misbehavior, breaking of laws and cruelness to Berlin, if necessary. And seeing that your personal feelings of hate are ruling every single decision within the last two days, I tried to warn you that you were crossing borders. But you preferred to ignore this all and tyrannized the POWs. You even threatened them of 'living in hell' in the future, if Oberst Klink wouldn't have survived the air-raid of Berlin; already speculating to take over his command."

The major made a threating step towards the corporal, but stopped as Klink moved into his way.

"Gentlemen," the Oberst said firmly, "as far as I understand the situation within the last two days, some serious issues happened. But giving the fact that Sergeant Schultz and I are up for almost twenty hours, survived by hair-width a gravely bombing-raid, got something like a smoke-poisoning and are really ready to shower and to hit the mattress, I think it the best to continue this later." He lifted a hand as Sandhaus wanted to protest, and turned towards Langenscheidt.

"Corporal, please return to your current sleeping area and try to find some rest. Be sure that I will hear you out, as well as the major and the current acting senior POW officer." He looked at Sandhaus. "I'll expect you in my office at half past nine o'clock, as well as Corporal Langenscheidt and Sergeant Kinchloe."

"Sergeant Kinchloe is divided for the first working troop tomorrow at eight o'clock, sir," Corporal Hauser spoke up.

"Working troop?" Klink asked; confused. "What working troop?"

"The POWs are freeing the Hoffstein pass and the main road from Hammelburg to the south from the avalanche that came down at the beginning of January," the major answered coldly. "I received the enquiry from the SS for sending over POWs at Friday late afternoon. A third of the route is freed and tomorrow the work continues."

"With the same troops which worked today for many hours without any break, and even without lunch," Langenscheidt growled.

"Without any break and lunch?" Klink knew, he shouldn't ask – or he would never get the chance to find a few hours sleep before duty called him, but this was something he had to know. "You denied them lunch?" he demanded; glaring at Sandhaus.

"They are better nourished than the most other POWs I saw within the last half year. A cancelled ration won't kill them. If you would shorten the rations, nourishment would be saved for our men at the front, and I'm sure your budget would be better," the major said coolly.

"Many soldiers at the front are called back or flee. And there are even more civilians who are in need for nourishment, or Hitler will lead a country of death sooner or later," Klink said icily. "But the men within these wires haven't the chance to escape hardship and death. And Berlin and I are satisfied with my needed budget for keeping them alive. I'm responsible for these men's health and I always take my given duty serious. And given your illegal act by denying the men food I want to give you a piece of advice for life: Who works, has to eat – or the work will end sooner than thought." He glanced at Hauser. "Roll call at nine o'clock, no matter the arrangements concerning the time they should start to work. Sunday is the day of the Lord and we shouldn't forget all traditions, even during the war. Because warm lunch is impossible outside of the camp, take care that enough bread and toppings are ready, as well as enough water to drink. Tomorrow evening will be given the warm food – a double ration for everyone."

The man looked almost glad at his superior. "Jawohl, Herr Kommandant."

Klink glanced back at Sandhaus, who glared at him. "We two and the other involved parties will speak about everything else later in my office at half past nine o'clock. Until then you've time to sleep, to pack your belongings and to have breakfast. Don't bother with the camp's businesses, I'll take over command now." He turned his back at the major and glanced at his Sergeant of the Guards. "Schultz, I'm sorry that you are the victim now, but for the sake of peace and quiet, please use a field-bed in one of the dorms. Major Sandhaus will leave your chamber in the morning after putting everything in order, what also goes, of course, mainly for your private belonging of which I hope he didn't damaged."

"Herr Oberst!" Sandhaus protested; indignant.

"Is' scho' recht, Herr Kommandant," (Bavarian: It's all right), Schultz sighed.

"Langenscheidt, please go to sleep, too," Klink addressed the corporal again almost kindly, who saluted with rising gratefulness in his eyes. Karl knew that Klink would make the right decisions, and that he was as good as out of the deep water.

The Oberst headed towards the entrance. "And now: Good night, everyone!"

He heard a chorus of "Good night, Herr Kommandant," and it sounded almost happy. For a moment his lips curled. 'You learned within the last days that it is better to have someone you know than someone who's a stranger and can ruin everything,' he thought. He stepped out onto the compound, and one of the guards jogged towards him, saluted and reported that Oberleutnant Schmidt was already on his way to Hammelburg. Thanking the man for keeping him updated, Klink headed towards his quarters. Only one thing began to rule his mind: Robert.

*** HH ***

Hogan hadn't found sleep easily. Rather the opposite. His thoughts circled around Will – and his own talk with Sandhaus. The soldier and trained spy in him had already come up with a few ideas how to get rid of the major, before the man really would change the camp in a living hell in which no-one would be safe anymore – Hogan included. However, his heart and soul could only think of Wilhelm.

What, if the older man was really dead? What, if he was indeed killed in the air-raid? It would change everything for Hogan – not only here in the camp, but for his whole further life, because one thing was for sure: Wilhelm Klink had caught him – and he had caught him good. He wanted to continue this dangerous, but also so delicious affair – their relationship that was still so young, but could grow into a strong tree of life given the chance. He wanted to relish in this new-found passion, tenderness and closeness as long as possible, and a still hidden part of him already dared to dream of a future together.

But all this wouldn't matter anymore, if Will was dead.

'You're the best that ever happened to me,' Wilhelm had said, added with another 'I love you'. Those had been Will's last words to him before the connection was broken. Hogan prayed with everything he had that these words only had been the last of the telephone talk, and not the last he ever would hear from Will.

Brooding, filled with a sickening mixture of dread and hope, Robert had finally fallen asleep, only to wake up late in the night because of some noises on the compound.

With instantly wild beating heart he raised and peaked out of the window from behind the curtains, but there was nothing to see, despite some guards which walked along, and later a car left the camp, but he couldn't recognize any details.

Laying finally down again, he didn't stop to hope, until suddenly he heard the entrance door opening and the light in the living room was switched on.

Again his heart seemed to beat into his throat with new hope, while he all but leaped out of the bed and closed the distance to the door. What he saw, made his throat tightening – not in sadness, but in flaring joy.

Placing a bag on the floor beside the dresser and hanging his coat at the hallstand while placing his cap on the top of it, stood Wilhelm Klink – tired, dirty, pale, but alive!

For a moment Robert couldn't breathe. Will was back! He was here! Alive!

Then the overwhelming relief broke out of him. "WILL!"

Hearing the beloved tenor in his back, Klink turned around – and all the tension, coldness and numbness that still echoed in him, began to lessen at the sight in front of him. There he stood: His witty fox; clad in pajamas, bandage around the head, pale and with far too large eyes, but with utterly happiness on his face.

A blink of an eye later the younger man all but stormed towards him – still limping a little bit and with unusual awkward movements, but quicker than Klink had seen him within the last three weeks. A moment later Rob was in front of him, and then Will gasped as he was pulled into strong arms, which closed around him and held him like belts of steel. He felt Rob pressing his face against his throat and heard him whispering his English pet-name, while a shiver ran through Hogan's body. Without wasting a second, Wilhelm sank against his lover and clung to the younger man as if he was the only hold in the world.

Home!

He was home again – in his camp, in his quarters, and in Robert's arms! Considering what he had survived, it was a miracle that he was here at all.

"You're back," Robert murmured against his skin over the stiff collar of the uniform-shirt; bathing in the familiar scent his senses caught despite the smell of dust and ashes. "You LIVE!"

"Thanks to you," Will whispered; feeling how some of the frostiness drained out of his body and soul, and how warmth began to fill the empty places. Sighing, he began to relax, while he leant his head against the tousled shock of black hair and closed his eyes.

Robert took a deep breath and tightened his embrace. The relief to have Will back safely in his arms, was almost too much to handle – and later it would show him, how important and dear the older man had become for him.

Hogan laughed softly, lifted his head and looked at his secret lover, who turned his face towards him. For a moment Robert saw only those soft, dark blue eyes – reddened from too much smoke, dust and exhaustion. Then he cupped Wilhelm's neck with one hand, pulled his lover's face towards him and their mouths found each other in a deep kiss that quickly turned urgent and fierce, as their hearts and souls drank in the other's ones presence, while their senses savored the so well-known tastes. Both minds could rarely grasp that everything had turned out well, despite the deadly danger Wilhelm had been through. Thousands of people had died more than fourteen hours ago in the fire of bombs, but Will had survived. Both lovers couldn't get enough from their proximity and the relief that their home with each other was safe again.

Sheer need to breathe forced them to end their kiss, and breathing hard, Will leant his forehead against Robert's. He looked in those beloved dark eyes, which shone with happiness, while there was still an echo of the fear of uncertainness, the younger man had been through.

"I… I feared I had lost you," Hogan murmured; the thumb of his hand that still cradled Wilhelm's neck, moved in soothing circles through the older man's hackles.

"I certainly would be dead, if it wouldn't have been for your call," Klink replied softly. "You risked everything to warn me."

"I had to," Robert whispered. "I couldn't let anything happen to you. Hell, I even snapped at Butler," he added with a chuckle.

"Do you have trouble now?" Will asked quietly, and Hogan shrugged. "He said he would have to speak with me about bedside-manners towards superior officers the next time we meet, but then he kept me updated about everything in Berlin." He sighed again and lowered his gaze. "I tried to stop the attack. I demanded, begged and argued but… our air-crafts were too near to Berlin and had already overcome the German defense. There was no way to stop it anymore." He looked up again; the memories of the fear still shimmered in his eyes. "I was terrible afraid for you."

Will tightened his long arms around the younger man. "As I sat down in the shelter we found, the only thing I could think of was that I maybe would never see you again." He swallowed a lump in his throat. "I hoped for a chance to take you in my arms again and to have you near – and I thank my maker that I was blessed with this chance."

Robert felt a strong tightness in his throat. What Wilhelm just said was another 'I love you' only with different words. And for the first time he began really to grasp what it meant to be truly loved. His heart seemed to constrict for a few beats because of too much deep emotions, which rose from the depth of his soul. Closing the small gap between them, he caught Will's lips in a gentle, warm, lovingly kiss; not knowing what to say.

He felt Wilhelm's mouth smiling beneath his own, and for a long time there was nothing else than holding each other and trying to kiss away the dread that had haunted them within the last hours…

TBC…

Yeah, they're together again – finally. And this is only the beginning of the next step within their relationship; promised.

I hope you liked my idea that Hilda takes care of the baby for now, what will lead to more – not only concerning the little guy, but also a certain young man who falls more and more for her. I also had a lot of fun to write the scene in the dorms, and to let Schultz and Sandhaus clashing with each other, before Klink intervenes. And this is only the first little pay-back the major gets, because woe someone messes with Hogan. And believe me, Klink will learn first-hand what Sandhaus did (and said).

But at first Hogan turns into a complete mother-hen in the next chapter. There comes a lot of 'candy' in the beginning, before Klink begins to get anything in order again in the camp. You also are going to learn more about his past and I had an own idea why he had to quit flying, got his monocle and was made the Kommandant of Stalag 13.

For now I'm off for my summer-holidays and I'm back in the middle of August.

Please let this not hinder you to leave some comments / reviews (*wink*).

Have nice time,

Love

Yours Starflight