Hi, my dear readers,

I'm back from holidays and I'm glad that you liked the last two chapters so much, despite the errors. Regrettable, this chapter is without any beta-reading, too, because I haven't heard anything from my beta-reader for four weeks now, and she doesn't answer my mail. I hope, it's only because she doesn't find any time to do so, and that nothing serious happened.

Nonetheless, I don't want to let you wait any longer, and therefore you'll get the new chapter (I apologize for the grammar- and spelling mistakes in advance).

Like I hinted, this chapter is first a little bit fluffy and then Klink gets into action again. Major Sandhaus should be ready for the high jump, so to say. You also learn, how Klink's left eye needs support and how it came that 'Willie' ended as a camp-Kommandant at all.

Have fun,

Love

Yours Starflight

Chapter 46 – To set things right

Hogan helped Klink to get rid of the dirty clothes. Okay, the Oberst had washed in the secret Wehrmacht-base in Zossen in the southern of Berlin and had the chance to brush out the worst dust and ashes from his uniform-coat and boots, but the fine particles had pierced everything 'til the skin. Even the shirt was partly grey, not to speak of the tie, the uniform-jacket and the trousers. The whole man was grey and after he got the bag he brought with him – which held the washing-utensils he got from supply-department of Zossen – he vanished into the bathroom.

Robert put the clothes into the guestroom and switched on the lights so that the window was enlightened behind the closed curtains; a pretense for everyone outside that Klink was using this room, because the window was – despite the closed thick curtains – illuminated. He checked that the entrance was indeed locked and returned to their bedroom. Hogan listened shortly at the closed bathroom-door, and as he heard the water still running, he stripped off his own clothes – including the, for days now unnecessary bandages – and entered the small room; knowing deep down that Will needed him.

He saw his secret lover through the half closed shower-curtain. The older man had turned his back towards the door and his head had sunken in the neck, while the water splashed down on him. It was more than obvious that he was absolutely exhaust but still tensed.

With a gentle "Hey," Robert stepped into the shower cabin, saw Will flinching, closed quickly the distance to him and slipped his arms around his waist. "Sh-sh, it's only me," he whispered – and with a deep sigh, Wilhelm leant his head back once again, this time on Rob's shoulder. The water washed over him; its warmth began to loosen up the stiff muscles. Holding Klink for a minute like this, Hogan finally gripped for the washcloth that hung on the hook at the wall, wettened it beneath the shower and began gently to wash the older man's chest from behind; offering his own body as a solid brace. How much the roles had reversed.

To say the truth, the warm water began to sooth Rob, too. Will was back – alive! – and he couldn't believe how deep shaken he was still at the prospect to lose his secret lover; how dear Wilhelm had become to him. To hold him now in his arms and to wash away the tracks the Grim Reaper had left as his shadow grazed Will, was like heaven. Without his own doing, he pressed a gentle kiss against the older man's temple, while he tightened softly the embrace; his hand that held the washcloth moved in gentle circles over Wilhelm's belly and chest.

Wilhelm began to relax the moment he felt Robert's presence and then the younger man's arms around him. Even if he had begun to slack off as the warm water poured down on him, his mind couldn't stop thinking of what happened a few hours ago, while he thought to hear the hostile air-crafts in the air, the whistles of the falling bombs and the explosions afterwards, followed by screams, trembling ground, dust and heat.

Such an experience always left scars – visible and invisible ones – and even if this was already the second war he served in, he would never get used to the inhuman brutality with which people fought each other; turning many of them from humans into animals. The hour down in the subway-station and their ride through the partly burning Berlin afterwards had shown him his own vulnerability once again – how little a single man could do at death's door. During such a raid there was nothing left except of praying and hoping. It shook him how close the Death had been within those endless minutes.

He felt Robert moving and then, how the younger man began to wash him with utterly ministration, while he remained behind him like a solid rock he could lean on. Keeping his eyes closed, he let himself being taken care of like a toddler; relishing in the affection that showed him that he was really home – here, with this one, particular man who was officially his enemy.

"Turn around," Rob murmured at his hear, and sighing he obeyed; opening finally his eyes as he faced the American. Robert's face was full of compassion and tenderness; his gaze was filled with deep warmth and understanding, yet there was also a haunted expression in those chocolate orbs. Both men had their shares of almost death-experiences, and if there was someone who could comprehend what was going on inside of Klink, then it was Hogan.

Using some soap, Rob continued to clean his lover's body – washing away the dust that still clung to Wilhelm's soft skin. And with the ashes also a part of the dread was rinsed away. Filling some shampoo in his hands, Robert murmured a softly, "Close your eyes," and began to wash the older man's hair as soon as Wilhelm had obeyed. His fingers moved in soft yet firm circles while Klink let his head sinking once more into the neck. Rob's strong yet gentle fingers massaged away the headache and lessened the ringing in his ears.

Finally, after a few minutes, Hogan was satisfied that his German counterpart was clean again, slipped out of the shower cabin, wrapped a towel around his waist and took a larger bath towel he held open for Will. Looking gratefully at his witty fox, Wilhelm shut off the water and allowed his lover to wrap him into the towel. A further smaller one was used to towel his hair almost dry, while he sat down on the toilette; thankful for the help.

"Go to our bed and lie down," Robert instructed him gently after he was sure that Wilhelm was dry. "I put some order in the room, and follow you afterwards.

"Danke," Will mumbled; too tired to think straight anymore. Winded up, he crept into the sleeping chamber, let the towel fall to the floor and slipped beneath the blankets; groaning in nameless relief as the familiar scent of Rob and himself surrounded him, while his body sank down onto the mattress and into the soft pillows.

Hogan made certain that he was dry, too, hung the towels over the rod of the shower-curtain, switched off the light and did the latter in the guestroom and the living room, before he returned afterwards to their bedroom. Switching off the light here, too, he fumbled along the bed to the free side of it and lay down. Almost instantly Will turned towards him, and without hesitating a second, Rob opened his arms and pulled the older man close to him; holding the tall lanky body in a warm embrace full of solace.

Yet he felt some tremors running through Will's muscles and he laid his cheek against the balding head. "Try to find some sleep, Hon," he murmured. "Tomorrow everything will shine in another light."

A small nod was the answer and for a few minutes there was nothing else than silence, until Klink suddenly murmured, "Hochstetter was sentenced to eight years prison. He's to serve it in a working camp Burkhalter will chose."

For a moment a smile played around Hogan's lips. "Eight years – a long time," he said quietly. "But it serves him right. I'm not the only one who suffered because of him, you know." He cupped Will's cheek and moved his thumb in soothing circles. "And Burkhalter survived, too?"

"We had driven to the court with my car, because parking spaces are rare there. After I received your call, the others were waiting outside for me and I used an excuse to drive us to the south-east. I hoped to leave Berlin in time, but as the official air-raid alert was given, chaos broke lose. Cars, people – everything moved around like headless chickens. We made it to Neukölln, as the sirens alerted us of incoming air-crafts within a few minutes. We abandoned the car and found shelter in the subway station in front of the townhall of Neukölln."

"Sweet Lord!" Robert whispered; closing his eyes. A subway station was really no solid shelter against falling bombs, and he shuddered at the thought how close he had been to lose Will. Tightening his arms around the older man, he moistened his lips and waited, but as Wilhelm skipped from speaking more, Robert asked softly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Klink sighed. "Certainly – but not now. I… I have to stomach everything and… roll call is at nine o'clock. If I don't want to fall asleep on my feet, I should find some rest now."

Hogan chuckled quietly; not aware of the tenderness that was in his voice as he said, "Then sleep – and don't fear any nightmares. I hold you and will keep them away," he murmured, lifted his head and pressed a kiss to Wilhelm's cheek.

"The roles are switched now, hm?" Will smiled for a moment, before he added, "Schultz and Schmidt made it, too."

"I'm glad," Hogan replied honestly. He felt attached to the large Bavarian, who was mixture of an older brother and uncle for him, and he liked Schmidt – no matter the uniform the young man was forced to wear for now.

He heard Will sighing and snuggled closer to him; holding him in a cocoon of his arms and legs.

Wilhelm felt himself – finally – relaxing utterly. Robert's proximity, the American's strong limps around him, the familiar surroundings – they did wonders to his shaken soul. He didn't even realize that he drifted away.

Hogan remained awake for a longer time. Will was back – alive and healthy. Robert thanked the Lord and all higher beings that they had protected the man he had fallen for.

'I love you.' Will's almost last words to him still echoed in his heart and soul, and instinctively he nestled even closer to the older man; too confused of the whirlwind of feelings which waved through him whenever he thought back of Wilhelm's voice at the phone.

Holding his secret lover firmly in his arms, he closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him not easily this time…

*** HH ***

Klink hadn't set the alert-clock, yet Hogan was awake early enough to wake him a quarter past eight – enough time to prepare for the day. The older man hadn't rested well. Even in the depths of his exhausted sleep, he murmured unintelligent words and shifted nervously – certain signs of the horror he had been through and that haunted his drams. Robert woke up during those short periods, pulled his secret lover even closer to him, stroke his cheek, shoulder, back or arm and whispered soothingly nonsense at him, while giving him soft butterfly-kisses on the cheek or temple. And every time Wilhelm calmed down within a minute; his subconscious felt save in Robert's presence.

Understandable, Klink was still absolutely exhaust as he made his morning toilette and began to slip into clean clothes. His whole body felt like made of lead and seemed to weigh tons, while his head still arched and there was constant, low ringing in his ears. His mood was accordingly in the cellars, yet he used the given chance to ask Robert about the last two days. And what he heard, lowered his mood to a new level of fretfulness. The major had mixed up Stalag 13 and its habitants – prisoners and guards – in a way that was unforgivable in Klink's eyes.

Yet there was one thing that almost made him explode. "He… he threatened to kill you?" he gasped; shocked.

Hogan, sitting on the bed's edge, shrugged. "He said he would take care that I wouldn't see another day before I get the chance to speak ill about him." He caught Will's furious gaze and added, "But there was something else he uttered, what I take very much more serious than this threat against me. He said that he would share the opinion of a KZ-Kommandant: If the Allies should win and war is over at elven o'clock, the prisoners would be dead at ten o'clock."

Klink stared at him; face flushed with horror and fury. "Whoever this so-called 'Kommandant' is and said this, should be sent to hell. And if Sandhaus really shares this point of view, I'll make certain that he will never set a foot in any camp again – except if he's on the lined-up side of a roll call." He took his cap. "He restricted Langenscheidt to the dorms because of 'insubordination' and 'disobedience'. I spoke with both last night shortly, and think, I know what Langenscheidt did to wake the major's anger: He tried to protect you all."

"What are you going to do?" Hogan asked; not surprised that Langenscheidt stood up for the POWs. The corporal was, after all, a decent man.

"Sandhaus gets an ear full from me and a very bad report to Berlin, before I kick him out of our camp!" He got his riding-crop. "But first I've to make up for what he did yesterday – and then I call Burkhalter. He can send Sandhaus to the Russian Front, but never again to Stalag 13 or another POW-camp!"

He took the interims-glasses which still lay on the nightstand and shrugged at Hogan's asking glance, "The new monocles are still in the bunker we stayed overnight and the one I wore didn't survive Neukölln."

Hogan chuckled quietly. "You really have a wastage with those things."

Klink sighed. "Don't remind me. It will last until we get our belongings back, in other words, I have to order one or two new monocles." He shook his head. "My optician has to think, I'm crazy."

"No, he simply his happy that you're his future pension," Robert laughed, what raised Klink's mood a little bit. Bending down he stole a kiss from the younger man, winked at him and left the sleeping room.

Content that everything would be back to normal soon, and still overjoyed that Will had survived the firestorm in Berlin, Hogan slipped back under the covers. Odd, in earlier times he would have never trusted Klink to handle such a delicate issue like this with Sandhaus and the mess the major had made, but by now he didn't doubt the tiniest bit his German counterpart's hidden, but existing competence.

As Klink left his quarters, he saw three trucks of the SS parking outside of the fence and some black-clad men, who smoked, paced along the wires or talked with each other; obviously deeply bored and impatient. The POWs were all on the compound, while an older corporal was counting them.

At Klink's familiar "REPOOOOOORT!" the most of them turned around, saw him hurrying over the compound with his typical stooped stance and movements, riding-crop beneath his arm – and began to grin. A few even applauded, among them Hogan's team and a few other men, who worked closer with the American colonel and therefore knew of Klink's involvement in Hogan's missions. The guards on the towers and along the fence already learned of their true superior's return, saluted and looked rather relieved at him, while Sandhaus leant against the wall beside the steps which led to the Kommandantur and wore a sour expression. Yet he saluted with the demanded respect as Klink looked at him, who returned the military greeting casually, before he turned around towards the POWs and looked at them.

He saw Wilson, Kinchloe and Baker smirking, while LeBeau practically beamed at him. Even Newkirk smiled, while Carter looked as if he had gotten a candy.

"Prisoners," Klink began his little speech, "as you can clearly see, an old saying has become true again: Dead live long." Here and there a laughter or chuckle were to hear. "As I learned, Major Sandhaus already hoped to gain my position, but I think you're not too disappointed that you're stuck up with me again." Several hands were clapped, while new laughter and even the one or other comment like "Thank the Lord!" or "There are really worse guys than you!" were to hear.

Wilhelm couldn't himself: He bathed in the shown approval of his person he had never experienced like this before. The fingers of his hand played with the handle of the riding-crop he had clamped beneath his right arm in his usual way; the well-known almost vain smile played around his lips for a moment, before he turned serious again.

"And regarding the hard work almost the half of you did yesterday without getting the necessary nourishment, I want to express my regret for the lack of food that is due to you. We're at war and face harsh times, but who works has to eat. And given the whole work of yesterday and today…" He lifted his free hand as some protests were uttered at the confirmation that they had to work today, too. "I know, Gentlemen, it's Sunday and the half of you is still groggy from yesterday. Yet the road and the pass has to be freed from the snow – but not in the hard way like yesterday. Those, who already did their share of duty, have today off. The others are brought to the road and the Hoffstein Pass, yet I make sure that there are enough of you so that you can take turns every half hour. There will be also enough bread and toppings, and of course water for you. In the evening, everyone gets an extra warm shower and also a warm meal – a double-portion."

Cheers broke lose, and Klink had to wait a minute or more, until the POWs calmed down again. "Thanks for the flowers," he deadpanned, before he looked at the tiny Frenchman. "Corporal LeBeau, you and those who can handle a cooking spoon, should support the cooks in the mess hall. Take what you need from the food-stock, but in agreement with the stock-manager. I don't want an empty pantry tomorrow, so please consider my budget. We're at the beginning of a new month and I can't spent the whole money for February already now."

"No problem, mon Commandant," LeBeau called. "I think Beauf Stroganoff is exaggerated. A Filet Minong will do it." Klink waved a warning finger at him, and LeBeau added with an innocent smile, "Okay, then a strong ragout with rice or potatoes – or a hefty goulash soup?" New cheers were to hear, and the Oberst threw up his free hand; huffing.

"As long as you don't bankrupting me," he sighed, then he turned serious again. "Okay, Gentlemen, back to serious business. Sergeant Kinchloe, please choose the men who will work at the road and the pass. They may line up near the gate, the half of our guards will accompany them. Afterwards I expect you at my office."

"Aye, sir!" Kinchloe nodded. He couldn't suppress the satisfaction as he saw Sandhaus' flushed face and anger, while Klink – pale and obviously still very tired – stood there like a strong oak in the wind; standing up for the POWs in his own way one time more. Whatever was going on between him and Hogan: It had done wonders to the usually so gauche man.

"One question, Kommandant," Carter spoke up. "What about Schultz? Is he well, too?"

Usually it was forbidden that a casual POW addressed the CO of a camp, but the men of Hogan's inner circle held a special place for Klink, so he only gave the young man a stern gaze, yet those, who knew him, saw the hidden joy at this question in his eyes. "Sergeant Schultz is, like Oberleutnant Schmidt and me, well so far. We only swallowed a lot of ashes and dust, and we've the permanent imagination of a ringing alert-clock in our ears, what certainly will vanish within the next days. So: Thank you for asking."

Anew relieved faces were the result. The most POWs liked Schultz, and those who were relative new in the camp, had come to respect the large Bavarian for his gentle character, his kind tone and his fairness.

"Okay, Gentlemen, one little last word: Don't think that you can use the opportunity of having only the half of our guards here and try to make an escape. Even the half of our men could give you a lot of trouble. And, by the way, you don't want to miss the dinner made from our gourmet-cook." He smiled inwardly as he saw several rolling their eyes, others were obviously amused. Very good. The mixture of sternness and diplomacy was the secret key to lead a POW-camp; something he would have to teach Sandhaus.

Taking a deep breath, he shouted, "DIIIIISSSMISSED!" Then Klink turned around and headed to the Kommandantur. "Private Diekmann, get Corporal Langenscheidt," he called, while gesturing for Sandhaus to follow him. They entered the building and Klink's gaze found the desk in the anteroom. Documents and files were piling up on it's surface, and the Oberst grimaced.

"Your secretary didn't show up yesterday," Sandhaus said as he caught the older man's frown.

"No wonder given the way you treated her," Wilhelm said sharply. "She may be a civilian, but she has a strong sense of duty and handles the whole office with high skills."

"Yes, her sense of duty was proven yesterday," the major scoffed.

Klink, whose hand already rested on the door knop of his office, looked over the shoulder; the things Hogan had told him before roll call, where very fresh in Will's mind. "Herr Major, Fräulein Hilda works for me for more than two years now. There were ups and downs, but NEVER she had been pestered enough to shed tears – not from me, not from my staff, not from the guards, and even not from any prisoner. But you managed it to make her cry within one day."

"If she is this over-sensible, then she is…"

"This has nothing to do with over-sensibility, Major Sandhaus – and given everything I already heard about your doings within only those two days, I regard it as an impertinence that you of all people speak of 'sensibility' – a streak you obviously don't possess." He entered his office and pointed at one of the two visitor-chairs. "Have a seat," he said, while stripping out of his coat and sitting down behind his desk. It felt good to be back in the familiar surroundings. Folding his hands on the desk-top, he observed the man in front of him.

"You were not even two days in charge of this camp, and I already got so many complains like I don't receive in a whole year. I know that this is a completely new territory for you, but even without detailed knowledge about the rules which apply for a POW-camp, several crucial things should be vivid by using simple logic and a hue of leadership skills. The men within these wires are humans, no animals, and this goes for the staff as well as for the prisoners."

*** HH ***

Inside of Barrack 2, in Hogan's quarters, the Unsung Heroes sans Kinchloe had gathered around the coffee pot; curious what Klink would do concerning Sandhaus and the whole situation that had stirred up during the last two days.

Because all of them spoke German, they could understand the Kommandant's words, and LeBeau caught himself balling a triumphal fist as he heard Klink beginning to rebuke Sandhaus. "Bravo," he said; grinning.

Then they heard someone knocking at the door and Klink's "Herein!"

*** HH ***

Langenscheidt entered the Oberst's office and saluted. "Herr Kommandant, Herr Major," he greeted politely but avoided it to look at Sandhaus.

"Ah, Corporal Langenscheidt, there you are. Very good." He pointed at the second visitor chair. "Please sit down, Corporal. I have a lot of questions regarding the obviously dispute between you and Major Sandhaus, so…"

Again it knocked, and Kinchloe entered the office. "The working troops are lined up and the first of the men are already taken to the working area, Kommandant," he reported.

"Thanks, Sergeant, please wait until this little issue here is cleared out." He looked back at Sandhaus and Langenscheidt. "Meine Herren, ich möchte wissen, was sich hier zugetragen hat. Lagenscheidt, Sie beginnen!" (Gentlemen, I want to know what happened here. Langenscheidt, you start.)

The major lifted a hand and nodded disparagingly towards Kinchloe. "Soll der Gefangene alles mit anhören?" (Shall the prisoner hear everything?)

Klink rolled his eyes. „Sergeant Kinchloe spricht kein Deutsch, also bleiben Sie locker." (Sergeant Kinchloe doesn't speak German, so stay loose.) He avoided it to look at Hogan's substitute, because he knew exactly that the radio-man spoke German like every other man in this office.

*** HH ***

In Barracks 2, Newkirk snorted in amusement. "So, Kinch doesn't speak German. Tut-tut, Kommandant, you really have learned to lie smoothly through your teeth."

"And he even sounds absolutely normal and even arrogant," Carter chuckled. "He really learned from the colonel a lot."

"Silence, let us listening to them!" Baker ordered; yet humor lay in his eyes. It was more than obvious that Klink was about to set things indeed right for once by tricking this damn Nazi-swine Sandhaus.

*** HH ***

Klink made an inviting gesture towards Langenscheidt, who began to tell everything from his point of view. The Oberst interrupted him here and there for more details and permitted Sandhaus to give comments or explanation, before he questioned him. Afterwards he ordered Kinchloe in English to tell him about the last two days. The picture he got was even darker. To call the sergeant a 'half-human' and 'nigger' was more than a low down, and Klink was furious about it, yet he had to remain in control. It was a fact that the regime regarded people of foreign heritage with colored skin as 'lower beings' and Sandhaus was obviously a fanatically Nazi. Therefore he, Klink, had to be careful how to get the major down on the carpet without facing trouble for 'wrong regards concerning worthless beings'.

Taking a deep breath, he finally rose from his desk, gestured to the two other Germans to remain sitting and stepped at the window; hands folded on his back. Looking out onto the compound he saw a few POWs doing some sport, others were standing together – talking, just like a few of the guards did. Everything looked peaceful but Wilhelm knew how fallacious this imagination was. Despite the fact that Hogan held this large bunch of men together and that many of them accepted him, Klink, now after he saved their beloved superior two times, one wrong spark could be enough to turn the camp into an inferno. And after what happened in the last two days, Wilhelm thought he could feel the flames of fury below the surface like an uncomfortable itching beneath the skin. He didn't dare to think of what would certainly happened, if he hadn't survived and Sandhaus had taken over charge permanently.

Pressing his lips shortly into a thin line, he said quietly,

"To lead a POW-camp is a continuous dance on the high wire with the staff on one side and the POWs on the other end. Who loses balance first will fall down, but believe me, Herr Major, the swing of the wire afterwards would be enough to bring the other side to fall, too – a scenario that has to be avoided. To keep this fine balance is an act of art, so to say, that only will be successful if certain things are considered. Simple human respect towards each other is one thing. To grant the prisoners the rightful nourishment, medical treats and other things which are dictated by the written rules, is the next thing, or the whole camp will go off like a barrel of powder. Approx. 120 men are holding more than thousand prisoners together. Do you have any idea who would gain victory, if the POWs see no other chance any more than rebelling?"

"The guards would shoot them down, like it is their duty," Sandhaus replied harshly.

Klink turned around. "Yes, ten, twenty, maybe even hundred. And what about the other nine hundred? Men, who are about to break under too much pressure and are desperate enough, to rather risk death than enduring torment any longer, are a tidal wave who can wash you away at the first attempt. You were about to provoke a storm, do you realize this?"

He stared firmly at the other officer. "Threatening them with tyranny and death, is the best way to rise a revolution within these wires. I can understand that you're obviously bitter because you were shot down and seriously injured, but this is the risk every pilot has to face. Do you have the tiniest idea, how often I was shot down – not only in this war but also in the first one?"

"Obviously enough times to get yourself a comfortable desk-job here," Sandhaus answered; his tone barely polite anymore.

*** HH ***

The secret listeners in Hogan's quarters frowned. They were furious, not only because they learned of the details Sandhaus had said about them or what he did to Langenscheidt, but mostly because of the major's actual statements. Klink was right if he assumed that Sandhaus' leading-style could have led to a revolution within the camp, and to hear now how the major spoke ill of the Kommandant because he begrudged the Oberst's job, woke anger on Klink's behalf in them.

"Comfortable desk-job? What a nasty envier!" Carter grumbled. "I rather would be stuck within a collapsed tunnel for a week than doing one day Klink's job."

"And this says something," Newkirk commented wryly.

*** HH ***

"Ah," Klink nodded with a half bitter, half frustrated smile at Sandhaus' words. "Yes, my 'comfortable desk-job' here is like a magnet for many men. Believe me, Herr Major, you aren't the first one who wants to walk into a ready-made position – a position you're obviously incapable to handle. Do you know, what you need most for this job here? The same that changed my career and let me end up here, in Stalag 13: Leadership-skills. You have to take the responsibility for those in your charge utterly serious, or everything will be lost sooner or later. Do you know, what banned me at the desk?"

Sandhaus shook his head, and Langenscheidt and Kinchloe also were curious now.

"I lost 70 percent of my left eye-sight – therefore I'm unable to be an active flyer. And do you know, why I'm almost blind on my left eye?"

"An injury in battle?" Sandhaus guessed.

"Yes and no," Klink replied calmly. "It was in the later summer '41. I had been given the chance to test the new Heinkel-bomber HE 111-H2 and afterwards I was entrusted with the task to school new pilots on them. We flew over France some maneuvers, as all of sudden English air-fighter appeared. Two dozen trainees who sat for the second or third time at the controls of the new planes, against fifty well-trained fighter-pilots. A rather forlorn situation, don't you agree?"

"At least for the trainees," Sandhaus nodded.

"Yes, at least for them. Twenty-four young men – a few of them had just turned eighteen, one was about to marry three days later, another one joined the service to find his missing brother. Everyone of them had an own fate but one thing they had I common: They were in my charge. I was responsible for their health and lives – and so I acted. I sent them away to the next German air-base and forbid them to come to my aid, while I steered my aircraft directly into the hostile squadron to busy them. Nevertheless some of the boys wanted to support me, but I insisted of them trying to escape. I don't know, if our frequency was intercepted or if the leader of the hostile squadron was experienced enough to recognize the whole situation, but only a few of them followed the boys, the rest concentrated on me. I managed to shoot five planes down before mine was hit. Yet I tried to lure them away from the route my inferiors had taken, by attacking the enemy over and over again. Then my plane was hit again and I knew I had to parachute out if I wanted to survive, so I abandoned the engine. And then it happened."

He placed a hand on the desk-top as if he needed a solid item to steady himself.

"The moment I left the plane, its left wing exploded – while I was behind it. I remember the burning pain on my left side and the harsh stinging in my left eye, gave up the hold on the open cockpit and let myself fall. To make it short: I landed more or less safely while above me my plane was shot into pieces, yet I wasn't out of danger. Fate wanted to play with me again, because after I landed near a little wood in the middle of French nowhere and began to walk towards the north where I knew our base, I crossed paths with one of the English pilots I sent to the ground earlier. We both were injured, we both were shaken and we both were lost in a more or less hostile country, because even if we Germens had already conquered France, the Resistance was a great danger – especially to a single officer. And for the Englishman to walk through a conquered country could be deadly, too."

Langenscheidt, who had only heard a few rumors about Klink's injury and reason, why he had been grounded to a desk-job, looked in awe at him. "What did you do, sir?" he asked quietly.

"The Englishman and I pointed our pistols at each other – both at the same time. A remise, so to say. He asked me if I had a death-wish to fly directly into his swarm. Obviously he didn't expect me to speak English, but I spoke it already fluid at this time, and answered that the planes, he and his comrades attacked, were flown by mere boys – that we were a flying-school and that I had to protect my pupils. He was surprised to say the least, asking me since when a 'damn Nazi-swine' cares for others. I answered that the boys were in my charge and that I, as their teacher, had to protect them. He was baffled then, meant I had risked my life, what was a fact. We looked at each other for another minute or so, then he said finally that I'd shown a courage he had to respect and suggested that we both should go our ways. We both lowered our weapons, saluted from flyer to flyer and then we walked away – he towards west, I towards north."

Sandhaus stared at him; obviously not knowing what he should think. "Didn't you fear that he would shoot you from behind?"

Klink shook his head. "No, not one minute. You see, this is the point when true respect has risen: You come to see the human being beneath the uniform – and it's a fact that the English people are sportsmen. To shoot someone from behind, is cowardly. To shoot someone from behind who gained their respect, is a big no-go. And the same went for me. The man had shown respect for my way of acting prior and we had agreed of going separate ways. I never would have risen my weapon against him in those minutes we walked away. Our ability to develop respect for each other, saved our both lives – at least in my case. And I do hope that this pilot from all those years ago is still alive, too."

Sandhaus pursed shortly his lips. "Yet you let someone go who was an enemy."

"We both were strangers away from home – pawns on a large chess-board who crossed paths. If we both hadn't been fair to each other, we maybe would have killed each other – a worthless waste given the whole situation. He and I were replaceable, of course, but like this we both could continue to serve our countries. It was a question of honor and luckily we both were on the same page, despite our heritage."

Langenscheidt, Kinch – and the Unsung Heroes – had listened intensely Klink's tale. It said more about the Saxonian man than everything else. And one thing was for sure: This story was also a lecture for Sandhaus, who watched the Oberst thoughtfully. "You made it back to the air-base, I assume?" the major asked.

Wilhelm nodded. "Ja, a few hours later I was picked up by a patrol of the Wehrmacht and returned to our base. I was hurt, I was exhaust, I wanted nothing more than to find a place to rest and I couldn't use my left eye. I knew what this meant – that I would have to quit the active service. But my sacrifice was not for naught. All of the boys had made it safely back. Not one loss was to mourn. It made up for everything I had endured and would go through within the future. I needed almost two months to heal enough to leave hospital. Burkhalter, at this time still a colonel like I am, offered me the command of a camp. First I declined but then I was offered to take over Stalag 13 – a POW-camp. In the late autumn of '41 I took charge of this camp here – a chaotically cluster of wooden huts with a rag-bag of POWs of different nationalities and heritage. I needed half a year to get the camp into the today's condition and I needed very much longer, to gain something close to respect from the prisoners. The latter is also the merit of Colonel Hogan and his team, who keeps the POWs in check and also conciliated between the prisoners and my staff. And believe me, contraire to the opinion of the brass in Berlin, you can't lead a camp like this without a little bit conciliation and diplomacy."

The major took a deep breath. "Yet those prisoners came to kill our comrades."

"Just like we did and still do it the other way around," Klink nodded. "This is the ugly side of a war – people fight and kill each other."

"They are scum and…"

"These men outside there – " Klink interrupted him sharply and pointed firmly out of the window, "– have done nothing else than fighting for their countries. This isn't a crime, but a natural thing; their duty even. They were weaker than we are or we had more luck in defending us – one way or the other, they ended up here. The war is over for them and to regard them as 'scum' because they tried to protect their homes, is beneath a honorable German man. To develop hate against everyone of a nation who made you stumble, is no solution. A soldier, who is ruled by his feelings, doesn't see clear anymore and is therefore a danger for his comrades. Be careful that your hatred doesn't result in future comrades' demise or your own."

*** HH ***

LeBeau pursed shortly his lips. "Now I begin to understand what mon colonel sees in Klink. Have you ever thought that Klink is a kind of hero – and would stand up for his prisoners like this? Or that he has so much… profundity?"

"No," Newkirk murmured. "But silent waters are deep."

"Only Klink is not silent. Boy, he talks so much that even my aunt seems to be mute. And she really is like a waterfall and…"

"Carter," Baker sighed. "Be careful what you're saying. This is really the pot calling the kettle black!"

*** HH ***

Klink sat down at the desk again; his gaze fixed on Sandhaus. "I hope, a few of my words got through you and you will digest them in the future. And don't justify another comrade because he has a 'quiet job'. The war has reached a point at which everyone, who is still able to fight, is summoned. This would apply for me to, if I were able to be back at the active service. I'm not, but I serve my country otherwise – what is certainly not 'quiet' and 'comfortable'. And I'm certain that your service will be needed, too, as soon as your injury has healed better. And it doesn't matter if you will fly again, or if you support our people in another way. We serve how and where we can. Only one job is absolutely nothing for you: To lead a camp – and I will inform General Burkhalter about it. I'm sure he has other tasks for you."

He glanced at Langenscheidt. "You can resume your duty, Corporal. Your 'disobedience' was nothing else than an attempt to keep the camp together and to follow written law. There will be no further accuses against you."

Karl almost sighed in relief and he allowed himself a very small smile. "Thank you, Herr Kommandant."

"Dismissed!"

Langenscheidt rose, saluted, turned around, grinned broadly at Kinchloe – who couldn't help but smiled back – and vanished.

"Sergeant Kinchloe," Wilhelm addressed Hogan's substitute; switching back to English, knowing fully well that the American had understood every word within the last minutes. "I'm sorry for the way you and the others were treated. Be sure that normality will settle in again. Please remain here for another minute while I show the major to the door. We've to speak about the work within the next days."

Sandhaus rose and followed Klink without a further look at Kinch, who glared after him and whispered, "Asshole!"

A minute later Klink re-appeared and closed the door behind him. Exchanging a long look with each other, the Oberst said quietly, "I apologize for my fellow-German's outrageous behavior towards you, Sergeant. The way he treated you is absolutely unacceptable, yet you kept a level-head and didn't allow the situation to escalate. Thank you."

Kinchloe, touched by Klink's unexpected apology, sighed, "The others and I hoped that we have to endure this bastard only two or three days until you're back, sir, and therefore held our anger in check. Colonel Hogan more or less ordered us to stay calm." He cocked his head while he allowed himself a short smile. "The boys and I are very happy that you made it. I… We all were shocked as we heard about the upcoming air-raid and…"

"'Upcoming'? It was you who heard about it first and alerted Hogan?"

Kinch shrugged. "I received a radio message from London concerning a question for you and after I told them that you're in Berlin they got nervous." He smiled. "I thought, the colonel would jump down General Butler's throat as he learned that the attack couldn't be stopped anymore."

Klink chuckled softly. "Typical Hogan's temper." He sighed. "So, to say it clear, you alerting Hogan saved the others and me in the end. Thank you, Sergeant."

"You're welcome, sir," James answered. "So, about the work within the next days…"

"I'll take care that it won't be too hard for you all," Klink interrupted him not unkindly. "The road really as to be freed from the snow – not for the Wehrmacht's sake, but for the civilian people, too. Just imagine there is an emergency in one of the near-by villages and the patient reaches the hospital in Hammelburg too late because the ambulance car has to take a detour."

Kinch nodded. "No problem, sir. We can manage."

"I thought so," Wilhelm replied. "Dismissed, Sergeant. As well as you, Gentlemen!" He had risen his voice during the last words, and James frowned in confusion. "Sir?"

Klink grimaced. "Don't tell me that Carter, Newkirk, LeBeau and the others haven't listened – and still do so – to the whole talk via the hidden bugs."

With interest Will watched how Kinchloe's dark face became even more darker, while he grinned sheepishly. "Well…"

*** HH ***

In Barracks 2, Hogan's core-team stared with big eyes at the coffee-pot – and hastily cut the link.

"Dammit, he really is smarter than given credit for!" Newkirk said, while Baker chuckled,

"We can call us lucky that he is on our side."

"Boy, he indeed told us a cock- and bull-story all those years, pretending to be an idiot," Carter said; burying his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"He knows about the bucks in his office – after all he saved me from being caught while re-linking them a few days ago," LeBeau threw in for consideration. "But that he assumed us listening, tells us something very clearly."

"And what would this be?" Carter asked.

Louis made a face and grumbled, "He knows us too well!"

*** HH ***

In Klink's office, Kinchloe stilled smiled very boyish-innocently at the Kommandant, who pointed with hidden amusement at the door.

"Out with you, you rascal," Klink grumbled.

"Aye, sir!" James saluted with a smirk, but stopped one last time at the door. "Sir, may I address something private?" As Klink only nodded, he continued, "You should find some rest. You really look like spat-out."

"Thank you so much, Sergeant. This is exactly what I needed to hear," Wilhelm scoffed, but it was obvious that Kinchloe's careful display of concern touched him, because the left edge of his mouth curled, and his eyes began to shine.

James chuckled, saluted again and left the office. Rubbing tiredly his face, Klink stood for a moment simply in the middle of the room, then he walked to the small table at the wall and poured himself a cognac. Outside he heard a car driving away and knew that Sandhaus had left. Emptying the glass, the Oberst returned to his desk. He would call fist Burkhalter at the OHK near Zossen, then he would try to get some order in the chaos here – and then he would take the rest of the day off. Kinchloe was right. He not only looked like spat-out, he also felt this way.

TBC…

Well, I do hope you liked the background-story I came up with. Klink has his moments here and there, and I thought the well-hidden courage he showed here and there within my story must have a root in something more than 'only' in his love for Hogan. It was also fun to write the Heroes' reactions parallel. I always loved it, when they listened to something that happened in Klink's office and comment it.

In the next chapter, Willie and Robert will have a special talk about Klink's 'last words' in the line the day prior. Serious but also fluffy feelings-stuff will happen, and I think you're going to love it. Schmidt will try to find out more about Little Manfred's family, and the foundation for the TV-episode "Rockets or Romance" will be laid.

I hope, you liked the new chapter and I would be happy to get new reviews.

Have a nice weekend,

Love

Yours Starflight