Hi, my dear readers!
Thank you so much for the feedback and I hope, you all had nice summer-holidays so far.
Sorry but the new chapter is – regrettable – without a beta-reading again, because I haven't heard from by beta-reader anything within the last five or six weeks. I nonetheless hope, you love the new chapter.
Just like I said in the epilogue of the last update, this chapter is an emotional one – last but not least because of Klink's admission at the phone, serious stuff has to be talked and thought about.
Have fun
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 47 – Admissions
It was about lunch-time as Klink returned to his quarters. LeBeau had been in the little building for half an hour to make him and Hogan some bread with toppings and tea; telling his superior and friend about the way Klink had lectured Sandhaus before he kicked him out of Stalag 13. He dropped some hints accordingly the reason for Klink to wind up in Stalag 13 at all, but he decided to let the Kommandant tell the whole tale by himself; only sparking Hogan's curiosity. As the two officers had gotten their lunch, he left to support the other cooks with the double ration for the evening.
Will all but devoured the lunch; the stress was demanding some toll again now. Robert watched him with a mixture of amusement, understanding and tenderness. Usually the strict German man showed only the best table-manners, but now he wolfed everything down like a seven-year-old, what spoke volumes. Klink was far away from coming to terms with everything he had been through the day prior.
Afterwards, Wilhelm stripped off his uniform-jacket and tie, while Hogan prepared for them both a cognac and sat down on the sofa. It was a grey, cloudy day outside, and so he switched on the reading lamp after turning off the lamp at the ceiling, what gave the whole atmosphere a warmer hue. Then he waited.
Klink came five minutes later, wearing his house-coat. He looked ready to drop, but he smiled as he saw the glasses and sat down beside his lover, who offered him the cognac.
"I think I really can need another one now," Wilhelm murmured and emptied the glass in one gulp; savoring the sharp burning and the heavy taste. Rob did the same; feeling tired, too – now, after the last tension had finally left him with Will's survival, Sandhaus' departure and with the camp setting back to normality.
"You're not alone with this need," he chuckled, leant back in the sofa and closed his eyes. "Good God, I hate this war!"
"Then we're already two," Will sighed and leant back beside the younger man; beginning to tell Robert what happened in the Kommandantur. He only mentioned by the way that he gave Sandhaus a lecture by telling him why he got the 'comfortable desk-job' in the end, and spoke more about the working-arrangements he had made with Kinchloe, but Hogan's curiosity had been woken by LeBeau's hints, and so he asked Will about the incident that almost clipped the Iron Eagle's wings. Klink hesitated first a little bit, but a deep warm gaze from the younger man accompanied by a soft "Please?" did it, and Wilhelm told him the tell of 'the monocle' how he called it.
First with interest, then holding breath, Hogan listened how it came that this camp had gotten Oberst Wilhelm Klink as its Kommandant – a story worth to tell not only young recruits but also officers who had forgotten how it was to be at the front-line.
"You… you're a hero," Rob said quietly, as Will came to the end. Klink laughed and shook his head, while soft flush spread through his cheeks.
"Isn't it odd? There I boast about every little detail I maybe did or stumbled over to impress my superiors, and when I receive admiration concerning the maybe only real important and dangerous event I managed, I get… embarrassed."
Hogan lay a hand on is secret lover's arm. "It's because you're a good man who tries to stay out of the crossfire, but show an unusual courage as soon as others really need him." He smiled. "You are not used to be praised, because your colleagues are too busy with themselves to accept that someone, who acts different than they would do or did, displays more braveness than they have."
Will looked gently at him. "You've a way with words," he chuckled. "You explanations are sounding like compliments, and the other way around."
"Well, in this case it was a mixture," Robert grinned, before he turned serious again. "As irritating the whole episode with Sandhaus was – it was a little issue compared to what you and the others have been through." He wrapped one arm around the older man. "I don't want to imagine how close you've been to death."
Placing his head on Hogan's shoulder, Wilhelm sighed, "Sergeant Kinchloe told me how he got knowledge about the upcoming air-raid and how you reacted." He chuckled. "Major Hoopel… What an idea!"
"I had to use a cover-name and one you would instantly look through. So I came up with my pseudonym of last summer, as you caught me running around in German uniform in the Hofbräu." Rob snorted. "I never thought that this episode would be this useful one day."
"Ja, indeed. I realized within a second that you were at the phone. Only you could be daring enough to call as a POW at the People's Court."
"I would have called your Reichs-chancellery and even would have gotten you out of a meeting with the bubble-brain, if necessary." He pressed a short kiss to Will's temple.
"Yes, this sounds like you," Wilhelm smiled, before he lifted his head. "Thanks to your call we made it to relative safety."
"A subway-station is no bombing-proved place," Hogan protested.
"Yet it was the only shelter we could find. And all of us surpassed ourselves. Even Burkhalter, only in very selfish way. I never knew he can ran like this – given his fat belly – but his sprint to the station-entrance was possible record-breaking. But Schmidt and Schultz…" He shook his head. "Schmidt was the highest ranking SS-officer around, so he took over charge – cool, calm, level-headed. Yet as the power failed and everything turned dark, panic was about to erupt, but it's surprising how civilians can hold on control if there is someone who takes the lead and can wake some trust – and this was exactly what Schmidt did. He was able to nip the beginning in chaos in in the bud; certainly saving people like this. And Schultz recovered a little girl who had been separated from her mother, and brought her down into the subway; re-uniting her with her mother seconds before the first bombs hit the streets above us. He didn't even hesitate as he saw the little girl in need for rescue."
"Typical Schultz. When something is about children, he overgrows himself a dozen times over," Robert said softly.
"Yes, and the same went for Schmidt." He caught Rob's asking glance and said, "After the raid he heard baby-cries near our car that somehow survived the mess. All around the sirens were howling 'all clear', the flames raged and roared, peoples were screaming – and he heard the crying of a baby. We found the little guy on the pavement; shielded by his mother's dead body." He saw, how Robert closed his eyes. "He took the infant with him," Wilhelm said gently.
Tearing open his eyes, Hogan stared at him. "He took the infant…" He sighed. "I knew he's a good man. Where is the little one now? In an orphanage?"
Klink shook his head and smiled a little bit. "No, he's here, in Hammelburg – with Hilda and her parents."
"Wh…WHAT?" Hogan stared flabbergasted at his secret lover.
A real smile appeared on Wilhelm's face. "He cradled the baby beneath his coat and took him with him. You should have seen the faces of the staff-members of the Wehrmacht-base we arrived two hours later. They looked at the baby as if he was an alien." He chuckled. "And Schmidt? He remained in the infirmary where a doctor examined the baby, asked for triangular bandages as a replacement for real nappies and only after he could leave the baby in Schultz' care, he joined us as we were interviewed of what we witnessed in Berlin." His smile turned into a grin. "And then the base's cook. He brought purée, scrunched apples and bananas, mixed milk with water and explained sharply the thunderstruck staff that children are our future and that we've to take care of them. During our way to Hammelburg we stopped in Magdeburg at a pharmacy and despite the fact that Schmidt – or we – hadn't any vouchers for baby-utensils, the pharmacist gave us a baby-bottle, baby powder and several things more after he learned from where we came and why we had a baby with us. Schmidt was like a lioness when it came to the little guy – and then he was at loss how to go on for now."
Hogan chuckled and shook his head. War was in his eyes the most inhuman thing of the world, yet it made people overgrow themselves in the most human ways over and over again. "Let me guess: To involve Hilda was your idea."
Klink nodded. "Ja. First Schmidt was almost shocked; telling me that I can't demand such an extensive support from my secretary, but I know Hilda. She is the typical family-woman. I knew she would take the little one in for a few days – or one or two weeks."
Pursing his lips, Rob frowned, "And then? Do you know, who his mother was? Are there any relatives?"
Taking another deep breath, Will shrugged softly. "She had no handbag with her, no passport, nothing. But Schultz found a dog-tag around her neck. Schmidt wants to do some research of the dead soldier's identity. Like this he hopes to find the family the little guy belongs to."
Hogan nodded slowly, before he said quietly, "And if there are no relatives?"
"To say the truth, none of us has thought so far, but I can imagine that Schmidt would be ready to keep him in his charge. He offered help to the Schneiders and wants to support them." He looked straight at Hogan. "I think, he would try to adopt the little guy."
"He is not married," Robert added for consideration.
"Well, things can always change. Just look at us two. I think, from our first meeting as enemies and now being lovers, is a big – BIG – change that took place." Klink took a deep breath. "And we're just at the beginning – I hope."
Robert moistened his lips. 'I love you' – Will's words at the phone, which could have been so easily the last ones Hogan ever heard. Since then, they echoed in his heart and soul like a constant gentle whisper, and he knew they had to speak about it, even if he didn't know how to begin.
He had no real experiences with his whole 'true-love'-department. Yes, there had been women who had told him that they were in love with him and he had felt affection for them, but this here was different. Will had shown in him so many different ways, with so many little things or tiny gestures what he felt for him that words hadn't been necessary. Heavens, the proof of love practically screamed from the skies, if you added the great things he did – like Will risking his life for him and saving him two times, not to speak of the many, many times he obviously covered for him. Wilhelm indeed loved him, yet – this much Hogan knew – if it wouldn't have been for 'Berlin' and the very real chance that Will would die, the older man certainly would have kept those three special words to himself for a little bit longer.
Yet the depth of Will's feelings were finally voiced and couldn't be ignored. And obviously Wilhelm wanted to know where they stood now.
Rubbing his temple with one hand, Hogan shifted his body until he had turned completely to Will's side. Reaching out, he let the tips of his fingers wandering over the older man's back of the hands which rested on his lap.
"You said at the telephone that you love me, and to say the truth: They hit me hard. Yes, I was somehow aware of your feelings, because I saw and heard them in every gaze and word from you that is directed on me within the last weeks." He caught Will's uncertain and almost hesitating glance. He saw the question in those eyes, the hope and the hidden fear, and felt his heart going out to his German counterpart once more. "My feelings for you are running deep," Rob whispered. "This much I realized within the last hours as I feared for your life. I have to admit that I never felt this deeply ever before, and the mere thought of losing you drove me almost mad. But… everything is still new for me – not because you're a man, but because I never had my feelings running this wild like they're doing now. I have no name for them, but I… I think I know what they are."
Will nodded slowly with a beginning smile. "I know what you mean," he replied gently; a wave of intense love washed over him as he watched the usually so cocky and self-confident American struggle with words. "It's a hard way from realizing something to admitting it."
Hogan took a deep breath. Will was right. "Well, there is one thing I know for sure: I don't want those feelings to end. I want to explorer them with you. I want you in my life, and no-one else. I said something likewise after our first night together, but how true this is, I began to understand yesterday as I was about to lose you." He lifted his hand and cupped Wilhelm's cheek. "I cannot lose you, Will. The mere thought pains me more than everything Hochstetter could have done to me. You mean more to me than I'm able to find words for."
He saw Wilhelm's eyes dampening and he bent forwards to place a gentle kiss on the older man's lips. "You got me, Willie. You caught me in a warm, shining net that is like a cocoon for me I never want to leave again. I… I hope you know this."
For a moment, Klink closed his eyes; aware that this was a love-declaration as near as Robert was able to give it in the moment. He wrapped both arms around the younger man; overwhelmed by the sheer burst of love that seemed to seize his whole being. Pulling Rob closer, he relished in the proximity that gave him the strength to admit something more.
"As the bombs fell outside of the subway station, the detonations shook the ground and explosions roared through the air, filling it with dust and heat, there was only one thing that kept my panic at bay and made me clinging to hope: The memories of you." Tears rose stronger in his eyes as he was for a moment back in Berlin-Neukölln, down in the make-shift shelter. "I imagined your face and thought to hear your voice deep in me – and the bombs weren't this loud anymore and in the darkness there was all of sudden a gentle light that seemed to shield me. I knew I had to survive somehow so that I could return to you." He moistened his lips. "What I also said at the phone, is true too: You're the best that ever happened to me. And I prayed to get another chance to tell you in person how much I love you."
Robert gulped; to hear those words again and seeing their truth shining bright and strong in his lover's eyes, squeezed in inner being almost painfully. Emotions can be sometimes too much, and Hogan – who always played it cool – was reaching his limits.
Leaning their foreheads against each other, their gazes locked. Besides the impact of those three words, Robert was also touched that the memories of him had kept Will sane during such a horrible situation, and gave him strength to cling to faith. It was a declaration of love on its own. A special one – and his heart and soul yearned to return it, yet he wasn't ready to utter those important three words.
Will didn't need to hear them. He saw them shining in those dark orbs in front of him and heard them inaudible within his beloved's words. And it was enough for now. Rob was a man of strong feelings, but he had learned to control them – at least the real deep ones. Yes, he was impulsive, yet he had nurtured the grip on his true emotions to an art. He needed time to learn to let go of them, and Will would grant him any minute he needed for this progress.
Catching the younger man's lips with his own, both shared a kiss full of tenderness, warmth and nameless gratefulness that they were able to do this again at all. It really hadn't looked good for Wilhelm – and the others – yesterday.
Finally coming up for air, Rob let himself sinking against his secret lover's body; relishing in feeling the lanky form half beneath, half around him. Will leant his head against the American's, and for a moment they simply sat there and held each other.
For a few minutes they did nothing more than simply snuggling, then Robert murmured, "Any chance that Hochstetter didn't make it to the prison?"
"This is not very Christian of you, my dear Hogan," Klink rebuked him anything but serious, before he sighed. "I've the same hope, even if it is wrong to hope for a man's demise. But I watched him being driven away in a paddy-wagon minutes before you called me. I don't know if he and his guards found shelter in time, but at least for the two policemen I hope so. But one way or the other: I'm sure that we won't hear anything from him in a very long time."
He couldn't know how wrong he was – but for now normality was returning to Stalag 13, and
for the moment that was all that counted.
*** HH *** HH ***
At the same time, Schmidt had resumed his duty and had gotten a status-report. He didn't know what he should make of the fact that three of their trucks were transporting working troops from Klink's camp to the road and pass which were buried beneath snow, but – as it seems – the unpleasant job had been ordered for the men of Stalag 13, and therefore he agreed to support Klink by sending over even a further truck later in the afternoon so that four vehicles and the truck of the camp were busy with carrying the men back to the Stalag.
Parallel he tried to get vouchers for baby-clothes, nappies and baby-food – not an easy task. The offices were closed at Sunday, he wasn't a parent who had the right to get those vouchers at all, and in the end it was his uniform and a threat which did the miracle. He didn't feel proud about it, but he saw no other chance. Funny that German's famous/infamous bureaucracy was outdone by another officialdom because the latter was dangerous for everyone to mess with.
In the later afternoon he drove to the Schneiders' farm, where Hilda had already arranged for a cradle and some nappies she got from her friend, yet she was indeed relieved as the Oberleutnant arrived with some more supplies he had gotten from the pharmacy in Hammelburg, and the needed vouchers he handed to her. He was almost shocked to be this happy to see the baby again – well-feed, content in the cradle, and sleeping. 'Manfred' sighed and bubbled a little bit, as Horst bent over him and stroke one tiny cheek with a finger; making soft, cooing noises the baby reacted to. Maybe, deep down in his subconscious, the little guy recognized his savior.
Hilda's parents watched the two young people; how they crowded around the cradle, talked in whispers and gave each other here and there some curious, but also shy glances. There was no doubt that both had taken the first gentle liking to each other, and Frau Schneider impulsively invited Schmidt to dinner; having learned from her daughter during the morning that the Oberleutnant, despite the department he had to serve in, was a decent an honorable man. It was not much she could offer, but it was enough for them. And while in Stalag 13 the POWs were devouring the spicy and delicious ragout, the three Schneiders and Schmidt sat at the dining table, had a modest evening meal and talked causally.
Bidding Hilda and her parents good night, Schmidt left finally; promising to make the first attempts of a research concerning 'Manfred' the next day. Yet it was clear that the young woman had already taken the little guy to her heart, and Horst had to admit that he felt more and more attached to the baby after he had seen Hilda feeding and diapered him. And, as he tried to ignore, he felt also more than attracted to the young woman.
*** HH *** HH ***
The day had gone by peacefully – despite the fact that the working troops came back tired and in not a very good mood. Klink held the evening roll call short, thanked the men for their effort – to the surprise of many of them – and dismissed them with a brusque "Good night, Gentlemen!" Then he vanished back into his quarters; still deeply tired and haunted by the suppressed memories of the day prior.
Klink's unexpected nice words, the warm shower and the ragout with rice or potatoes LeBeau and the others made, lifted the spirit among the POWs quickly again, and as they gathered around the tables in their Barracks and were allowed to use the light for an half hour longer than usual, the casual and lazy mood that usually ruled the camp was restored.
The two colonels enjoyed their dinner, during which Hogan learned more details of the trial – including Schmidt's unexpected additional support by bringing the poker and the written statements of the guards to the court. Robert realized, how much of those evidences were responsible that the judges convicted Hochstetter. If Schmidt hadn't brought those proofs of Hochstetter's madness and personal desire of revenge to the trial, the verdict could have been completely different. Hell, if Hochstetter would have been discharged, the whole hunt for him – Hogan – had begun anew; maybe even with some additional support from other Gestapo- and SS-members which held more ability than Hochstetter. The whole thing could have turned to the worse – and not only for Hogan and his men, but also for Klink and even Burkhalter.
Schmidt's decision to take the poker and some written statements with him to present them to the judges, had tipped the scales – last but not least one of those 'judges' was an SS-officer, who – of course – believed one of his own lines; especially when said one was a clear-thinking, promising young man and the defendant gave his madness away in front of the present members of the court.
Hogan would thank the Oberleutnant at the next given opportunity. Okay, maybe Schmidt wasn't a real alley in the common sense, but he was a honorable man who tried to do the right things by damming terrorism and cruelness, and by following the old rules. And this was more than you could say about many other men in his position. And now the young man burdened himself even with a little orphanage; bothering with trouble to do again the right, human thing. One thing was certain: If the Allies would win and the leading people and higher ranking officers of this country – uniform or not – would face trial, he, Hogan, would make sure that Schmidt wouldn't have to fear punishment. He owed the man this much.
After the two colonels talked about the events in Berlin for almost an hour, they began to distract themselves with a game of chess, but Hogan quickly realized that Klink wasn't in it. Yes, the Oberst was usually a passable chess-player – he even had set the American check-mate a few times without Hogan letting him win – but this evening he made mistakes like a beginner.
"Shall we continue this tomorrow or another day?" Hogan asked after he sized one of Klink's rooks.
Wilhelm sighed and looked down onto the chess-board where he was definitely and gravely losing the match. "Ja – if you don't mind," he murmured.
"Of course not," Robert replied and leaned back in the arm-chair he occupied. "Tired?" he asked softly, and Will nodded.
"Very – yet I know I'll get nightmares, so…" He shrugged and rose to get them a cognac, but stopped as Robert reached out and placed a hand on his arm.
"Drinking will not stop them, you know. But maybe talking will help."
The German officer laughed softly. "Don't you think we spoke enough about everything this evening?"
Robert glanced up at him; his eyes gentle like velvet. "We spoke about the trial – but not about what you faced during everything that happened later. To share fears and horrors unburdens the soul." He cocked his head. "At least it helped me two weeks ago, remember?"
Wilhelm snorted. "Of course I remember – after all it changed everything between us two, and also your men and me, didn't it?" He sighed and sat down again. "I… I don't know if I can already speak about it. It… it was far too similar like it was during the first war – laying there, ducking and hoping that none of the explosions comes too near you. As the Luftwaffe wasn't this strong in the beginning, I…"
He began to talk – and to talk, and to talk. As Robert realized that the dam was finally breaking, he rose, led his secret lover to the sofa and sat down there with him; listening closely to everything Klink told him about the first war and then – in an odd blending – began to speak about the days prior. He spoke about the night in the bunker and the feeling as if he was already in a tomb – cold and lonely, yearning for Robert's presence. He talked about the trial, the fear that gripped him as he received Rob's call and then the beginning flight to the south-east of Berlin; desperate to get as much distance to the doomed districts and themselves as soon as possible, but without being able to reveal this all. He spoke about their run to the subway-station, the hour in the darkness with death walking along the streets above them, taking with Him the souls of even hidden people and those who thought to have found shelter. He talked about the heat, the ashes, the reek of burning houses, the screams and moans of injured or dying people – his own helplessness to do anything…
He wasn't aware that silent tears slipped down his pale cheeks, while Robert pulled Klink's interims-glasses away and held him afterwards close to him; knowing that he was maybe the only hold Will had for now – just like it had been the other way around two and three weeks ago. Enveloping the older man in his arms, letting his hands roaming in a soothing and calming manner over Wilhelm's arms, shoulders and back, Hogan sat silently there and continued to listen.
Somehow, during the talking, Will's words began to slur until he simply fell asleep in the middle of a sentence – completely exhaust in body, mind and soul, but Robert realized after some time that at least a little bit of the haunting ghosts had left his secret lover.
Not caring that time ticked by or that he sat in anything but a comfortable position on the sofa, Hogan held his German counterpart and watched over his sleep – just like Klink had done for him all those nights ago.
Sitting there, with nothing else to do than thinking, Robert let his mind drifting.
To say the truth, there was a lot he had to think about – mainly about Klink, himself and the declaration of love. Yesterday it had woken a painful mixture of warmth and agony in Robert – to know that he was really loved with all his edges and flaws, but uncertain if this love, he was gifted with, would not be taken away from him by the Grim Reaper who, ironically, walked in the shadows of his own comrades' duty.
Those simple three words – I love you – had hit home. He had wanted to return them, but there hadn't been any chance for it, because Will had ended the call immediately afterwards. And Robert hadn't known if he would have this special opportunity ever again – to say something he hadn't dare to voice ever within his whole life. And, dammit, he was turning forty in two months!
The hours afterwards 'til deep in the night, as Will finally stood alive in front of him, had been hell. The fear for the man who had captured him in another way than only within these wires, had come in icy waves; mingled with despair or fury, because he was trapped in the camp and could do nothing than waiting. To be forced to stand back was something he truly hated, but this time it had almost driven him crazy.
And it had shown him one thing: Wilhelm Klink was not only an affair for him. Yes, he had already admitted this to Schultz, but how true this admission was, had been shown in the hours he didn't know if Klink was still alive or not. He had been half mad with fear for his secret lover, and he had hoped – prayed – for the chance to tell him how he felt.
And then, as the moment came within this afternoon, he had been unable to utter those three words.
Why?
Because they were so final?
Because they would be the beginning of another change within his life?
Because the 'great' Colonel Robert E. Hogan didn't do serious feelings-stuff?
No.
It was because he had been a coward!
Yes, what he felt for Will was new – not the emotion itself, but its intensity. He had been in love before and it always had been ardent. He was a passionate man and every new liaison had made him feel great. A fresh affair was like a kind of drug – but this time it was different. It ran deeper, seemed to infiltrate and to fill his whole being with gentle warmth, bright light and fierce fire he simply needed. And this need wouldn't end any time soon – if ever at all. The more he got from Klink, the more he wanted – not only during the hours of passion, but in general.
Will's presence, his voice, his silly but adorable dialect within the German accent when he spoke English, the sometimes shy then fierce glances, the smiles, the huffs, the laughter, his morbid sense of humor, his sometimes almost child-like innocence… Rob was addicted to them, yet the only thing that really counted was Will's welfare. Hogan's fright yesterday hadn't been only because he feared to be left behind and the pain that came with such a loss. No. The real reason for his angst had been for Wilhelm's life. He, Robert, would pay any price if it meant that Will was safe. And this told him more than anything else.
Deep down he knew that this liaison – this affair – had turned into very serious, despite the short range of time it lasted. To the say the truth, their relationship had already begun month – years – ago, and had grown slowly but inevitable. There had been a certain connection between them from the beginning, but what happened now was something he had never experienced before – a kind of belonging, he had thought to be impossible (least of all with a guy and the, above all, with 'Willie' Klink). But even now, while realizing all this, his thoughts were afraid to use the "L"-word.
Yet he had seen that Will had understand him – that he had recognized Robert's feelings, without being voiced. Wilhelm's eyes had shone with love and joy this afternoon while they talked about the more unimportant things, and it had given Hogan the unfamiliar feeling of being completely understood. Will gave him time to sort everything out – a kind of thoughtfulness and consideration Robert was not used to get. And it showed him one time more the seriousness of Klink's love for him.
A love he craved and couldn't imagine to lose.
So, where did this all leave him? He was an American officer of the US Air Corps, Klink was a German officer of the Luftwaffe. The war was as good as lost for Germany, and then the Allies would make a clean sweep. Okay, Klink belonged to the Underground, and Hogan would make certain that the older man wouldn't face any trial. Klink – like Schultz and also Langenscheidt – would come out of the war as free men.
But what become of Wilhelm and himself afterwards?
Hogan hadn't thought much about the time after the war. In earlier months and years he had dreamed of returning home to the US, to stay in the Service and to start an own family – maybe with Tiger. But now this all had an odd sound to his inner ears.
He couldn't imagine to live together with a wife and children, while a large part of him yearned for a man, who would be thousands of miles away on the other side of the Atlantic – in a destroyed country no less. He couldn't imagine to live with a pretense, because nothing else would it be to have a common family, while his mind and soul belonged to Will.
Robert hesitated, while his right hand played with his lover's short strains; mind absent.
Sweet Lord, the imagination of having a normal family even rejected him – and there he thought that those special three words would change more in his life, when already everything had been changed!
On the other hand, the changes had just begun. His whole world was upside-down by now, and for once he hadn't a clue or a plan how to proceed. Maybe fate would show him a way –what to do later. But for now… Well, he would enjoy every minute he could spend with his secret lover 'til the end of the war.
His secret lover…
Hell, it sounded forbidden and delicious dangerous. No-one – or so he thought – only assumed the true nature of their relationship by now. A relationship that hadn't been completely fulfilled until now.
This had been another issue that had haunted him while waiting for news yesterday. He had experienced nameless passion in Will's arms and bed, yet the last step was still to make. Robert knew how much Wilhelm wanted this – and fate had almost separated them forever before they could reach the last rung of the ladder that led to Heaven.
Rob pursed his lips and looked down on his sleeping lover. Today Will was still too exhaust – physically and psychically – but Hogan knew from own experiences that it helped a lot to get serious stuff off the chest by talking about it with some you trusted utterly. It had helped him two weeks ago; now he certainly had been able to aid Wilhelm in the same way. His German counterpart would feel better tomorrow and then…
A low smile spread over Robert's face. Tomorrow would be the day – evening! – they would consume their lo… passion wholly. And Hogan had already an idea how to surprise Will with it.
*** HH ***
It was close to midnight, as Klink finally woke and glanced disoriented and confused around.
"Was…?" (What) he mumbled rather unintelligent, and Robert couldn't help himself: He had to chuckle.
"Had a nice nap, sleepy-head?" he teased softly.
"Hm-hm," was the only answer, while Will snuggled back against him and was already drifting back into Morpheus' Realm.
"Oh no, you don't!" Hogan said, rose and pulled the half-asleep Oberst on his feet. Ignoring the protests, which were mumbled in German, Robert maneuvered Klink into the sleeping room, where he sat him down on the bed's edge. He began to strip them, what woke the older man enough to help him a little bit at least, before he sank onto the mattress – only clad in his long underwear. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
Spreading the blanket and the comforter over Wilhelm, Rob watched him for a moment; not aware of the tender smile that played around his lips. Reaching out to cup Will's cheek, he bent down and pressed a kiss on his secret lover's forehead, then he returned to the living room, switched off the lights and made himself ready for bed.
Ten minutes later he slipped beneath the blankets beside Will, who snored softly, yet he seemed to sense Hogan's presence even in sleep and rolled towards him. Taking Klink into his arms and holding him close again, Robert began to relax; hoping that the talk would prevent Wilhelm from having new nightmares…
*** HH ***
The next morning began calmly. Klink felt a lot better after a long, fitful sleep. Okay, two times Robert had woken him because the older man suffered from nightmares, but the other time Wilhelm slept deep and soundly like the baby in the Schneiders' home; enveloped in the warm cocoon of the younger man's arms and hidden love.
Klink fought with the paper-work after roll call and breakfast; missing Hilda's talent of organizing and practically knowing his wishes before he even voiced them. Yet, as she called him around midday and asked if he needed some information or if she should come over (somehow she would manage, how she assured him), he declined her offer kindly and practically ordered her to remain with the baby for this and maybe also the next day. The little guy had priority, no doubt. Klink wasn't aware of it, but he sounded like a concerned uncle, and he even acted like one.
Hogan informed London of Klink's survival but waved off any request of information the brass wanted to have from the Oberst as they tried to contact him via the Heroes at Saturday morning. "Tell them that he was this far away from the Grim Reaper!" Hogan growled as Kinch brought him the message; showing him an inch between thumb and index finger. "He has to come around from it."
Kinchloe stared at him. "Shall I really tell them that a German staff-officer is too shaken after an air-raid to answer a few questions?" He shook his head. "They'll take him for a softie."
Hogan groaned. "He is no 'softie', but he really suffers from what he has been through." He pinched his nose. "Ask them, what they want to know and I'll try to get some answers." He looked up again. "But not sooner than tomorrow!"
Kinch didn't dare to ask why it had to be not 'sooner than tomorrow'. He didn't think he would get a true answer – and, given the obvious relationship of the two officers, he was convinced that he didn't even wanted to have some details.
"Okay, Colonel. I'll try my best," he nodded and vanished through the entrance beneath the furnace; asking himself why the most things couldn't be easy.
*** HH *** HH ***
Schmidt stood true to his given word and began his researches. Schultz had handed the young woman's dog-tag to him as they had left the Schneiders' house at Saturday night, and now the Oberleutnant tried to get some information about 'Little Manfred's' family.
First he contacted the Deutsche Dienststelle WASt in Saalfeld / Thuringia; an archive in which the serial-numbers of all Wehrmacht-members (independent if Heer, Luftwaffe or Marine) were listed, including copies or original of personnel-files and background-information. He didn't know if he was there at the correct address or at the second headquarters in Meiningen (also in Thuringia), but it turned out that the office in Saalfeld was the contact he needed. The office had been founded in 1939 in context with the Third Geneva Conventions, which ruled the handling of POWs and fallen soldiers.
When Schmidt had been a member of the Abwehr, he had needed to legitimate himself and to explain, why he needed information from institutions like the WASt. As the CO of combined headquarter of Gestapo and SS, he got the required answers within an hour without any further questions. It showed him how corrupt everything had become by now.
At the early midday, he knew that the man who once wore the dog-tag instead of the baby's death mother, had been a Fahnenjunker-Unteroffizier (flag-squire subordinate officer) within a Panzer (tank) division that had been stationed at the Russian Front. His name had been Alfred Bornheim, born in Berlin, and was married to Mathilde Bornheim, née Heesel. He had fallen in August 1944 and had lived with his pregnant wife in Berlin-Neukölln, Weser-Street. He had had a brother, Otto, who had been by the Marine and was officially missed on sea for three years now, and he had a sister, Charlotte Schwaigel. His father had fallen during WW I and his mother was in a hospice. It was not known if the lady still lived; the file of Alfred Bornheim had been closed and not been actualized since his death.
Having those information, Schmidt demanded an actual road-map of Berlin, an inferior brought him from the registry. The Gestapo was not known for collegial team-work, but a road-map from all larger cities within Germany belonged to the standard-equipment of all headquarters – independent of the inner-German country.
Schmidt's gaze wandered over the map, until he found the townhall of Neukölln – the place, he, Klink, Burkhalter and Schultz had found shelter beneath the surface. Then he searched the streets around – and closed his eyes in pain as he saw the location of the Weser-Street. The place he found the dead young woman and her baby was not more than two- or three hundred meters away from the crossroad that led directly to the Weser-Street. The lady had been a stone's throw away from home as the deadly debris hit her; turning her tiny son an orphan.
Sighing deeply, Horst sat down behind the large desk the map lay on, and needed a moment to collect himself. Then he gripped again for the phone and demanded a connection with the registry office in Berlin-Neukölln.
He was told that the required office was cut off since the fire within the townhall that had started during the air-raid two days ago. Even if the firemen had been able to stop the flames before they could destroy the whole building, all telephone-lines were out of work for now. Another attempt to learn more of a maybe common registry office in Berlin found an end, too, because all larger offices within Berlin-Middle were still unreachable and – maybe – not existing anymore.
Thanking the lady of the telephone-exchange, he put the receiver back on the phone and cursed whole-heartily. As long as the fires were raging in Berlin, he had reached a dead-end. There was no chance to get any information about Alfred Bornheim and his family until some normality was restored in Berlin.
Unless he could find Bornheim's mother or sister. Again he called the WASt in Saalfeld, but given the fact that the persons he needed more information about were civilian people who weren't under any suspect, he had to file an application. He agreed to it; knowing that the answer from WASt would last. In other words: He wouldn't get any more details about 'Little Manfred's' family within the next days.
Again his eyes found the map that lay unfolded on his desk. His fingers moved over the paper – from Kreuzberg to Berlin-Middle and further to the north-east. He only could imagine the enormity of destruction the hostile bombers had left behind. His glance wandered back to Neukölln that only had been grazed by the disaster, and he gulped. If Klink hadn't insisted of driving them to the south-east to this Vienna café-house, they certainly would have been trapped in the inferno and had died. A café-house that certainly had found its end, too.
Or not?
Klink had said it was located more to the north-west of the place they had found shelter, and everything seemed to burn there, but maybe the little restaurant he and the others owned more or less their lives, still existed.
As soon as he would get a connection to Neukölln's townhall he would try to get some data about the café-house. Maybe it had survived – and maybe they would sit there all together one day, thinking back of everything. Later, after the war – if Berlin would still exist then at all.
Folding the road-map he laid it aside and glanced at the heaps of paperwork beneath it. Who had said that to be a commanding officer was the peak of a carrier? Whoever said this, had to be insane. One thing was sure: This damn paperwork was killing him! Yet there was one thing he would have to do first: Writing to the WASt. He hoped to get the needed information about 'Little Manfred's' family soon. And, if it came to the worst, he certainly could use the advantage to know in person a Wehrmacht-general: Albert Burkhalter.
*** HH ***
This Monday was for Burkhalter even worse than for the others. He sat in the office that was usually occupied by Colonel-General Guderian and rubbed his temples; already suffering from a strong headache. He had received Klink's call yesterday concerning his temporary replacement in Stalag 13, and Burkhalter had learned that this Major Sandhaus had done everything in his power to turn the camp into a mess. Klink's detailed written report was on its way to Zossen, but of what Burkhalter had heard he had to agree with Klink that Sandhaus was completely unable to fill the post of a camp-Kommandant. At least a POW-camp. Burkhalter assumed that the Reichsführer would love to have such a man for the other prisoner-camps, Albert so didn't want to learn details about, and therefore he wouldn't earmark the major for this job to anyone!
But just right now he had a lot of other problems. Bombers of the RAF had flown air-raids against Bonn the day prior, and the last Wehrmacht-divisions had fled from Belgium. Hitler had raged as he learned about it, and Burkhalter was anything than disappointed that he was in Zossen and not in Berlin. A furious Führer was always a lurking ticket to the Grim Reaper's realm. Yet Burkhalter heard enough via the radio – the only connection to the other staff-officers, who had found shelter in Berlin. And given the many static and interferences, no-one could be sure if this was a result of the still lasting many fires in the capital or if the Allies were intercepting them. Maybe both.
Being cut off from his own office – he didn't even know if it still existed – and being the highest ranking Wehrmacht-officer in the OHK in Zossen-Wünsdorf in the moment, he was in charge of the most important telecommunication center of the whole army AND of the headquarters. Orders from Colonel-General Guderian, Goering or Hitler came only sporadically, while one catastrophic message followed the next. Even now, two days after the air-raid, a real damage-report was impossible. The first aerial photos which had been made from some aircrafts, and on which was more to see than only smoke, showed that the government quarter was heavily damaged, including the Reichs-Chancellery. Whole streets were partly still burning, and Burkhalter felt sick when he saw how many civilian house-lines and streets lay in ruins; knowing that the buildings had taken their occupants with them to death.
First reports spoke of two or maybe three thousand dead people, but Burkhalter had witnessed the whole attack and had seen enough afterwards to know that this was the understatement of the year – no, of the whole decade! If he interpreted the photos correctly, a third of the town was damaged or destroyed. The number of victims had to be seven or eight times higher than the first statements from the government's side said.
And it infuriated Burkhalter – both things: The beginning lies of the regime about something so horrible only to make themselves looking strong, and the cold-blood in which thousands and thousands of people had been killed within one hour. Women, children, healing men, old and young. Yes, he knew that the Germans had done attacks which history certainly would call war-crimes afterwards, but why were so many medias and officers of the Allies calling them 'demons', when they didn't hesitate to do similar things?
Burkhalter had his doubts concerning the ways the regime had chosen – especially within the last weeks. Yet, after what happened two days prior, he thought to know that the only chance Germany still had was to fight back.
Sitting in Colonel-General Guderian's office, he glanced at the pinboard that held many sketches, drawings and photos of the newest guided missile battery. The weapon was about to enter the last testing phase and it would start a whole new level of warfare: It would send missiles for the first time to space from where the attack would take place. Until now he had quarreled inwardly with this augmented rocket he had heard about a lot during the last meetings in Berlin, but not anymore. After everything he had been through and what he had seen, it was about time to strike back with a force the Allies wouldn't expect.
Being now in charge of the OHK until Guderian would be back, he maybe could have a part in the weapon that eventually could change the warfare again.
Last testing phase…
Maybe he could take over this project and…
He didn't get further in his thoughts, as the telephone rang. "Yes?" he asked brusquely; being in no mood for politeness.
"Herr General, I have the Gestapo headquarters in Berlin for you in the line," one of the officers of the telephone station told him. "A Kriminalrat Ebersberg wants to speak with you."
"What?" Burkhalter straightened his shape. "I thought the building lies in ruins."
"A larger part certainly, but a wing of it was spared of the flames – and, by the way, the call comes from the bunker."
The general frowned, then he remembered that the bunker was for the Gestapo-members in Berlin as well as for Himmler and his fellows with his office directly beside the headquarters. Of course the shelter in the ground was equipped with the all technics which were needed to stay in lead and giving commands.
"Put the Kriminalrat through," he ordered. A click was to hear, then an unknown voice sounded,
"General Burkhalter?"
"Yes, this is General Burkhalter," Albert replied.
"I'm Kriminalrat Helmut Ebersberger, Gestapo Berlin. Please excuse the disturbance. I know that you certainly has a lot on your hands in the moment, but… we've a prisoner here at whose trial you were involved with only an hour before the air-raid happened. We want to bring him to the correct location of his punishment, but…"
"Let me guess," Burkhalter interrupted him. "You speak of the former Major Wolfgang Hochstetter."
"Yes, Herr General. The two policemen, who brought him here to find shelter, only told me that he was sentenced to a working camp and that the Luftwaffe has to decide, which camp it should be. The People's Court in unreachable and there are the rumors that it burnt down to its walls, so there is certainly no chance to get some answers concerning Hochstetter's verdict from there."
Burkhalter sighed. He really was almost about to develop a certain paranoia because of the 'poison-gnome'. Even now the former major haunted him.
"Hochstetter was sentenced to eight years working camp I've to choose. I want to send him to Weingut 1 (code-name for an armament facility / bunker in Mühldorf, Bavaria,). I'm sure they can always use two strong arms there – after all, only six halls of the planned twelve are finished and we should have started with the production of further ME 262-planes there yesterday. I think, Hochstetter's fierce temperament can be put to use there – by pouring concrete."
For a moment there was silence in the line, then the Kriminalrat chuckled shortly. "Understood, Herr General. As soon as there is a chance to transport the prisoner, I'll make certain that he will be brought to Mühldorf. The Kommandant of the facility belongs to the Waffen-SS and is a cousin of me. I'll inform him in advance. Only one question, Herr General, what exactly was Hochstetter accused of? I've to write a report with as much details as possible, given the fact that the case records certainly were destroyed in the fire of the Court."
Burkhalter nodded, even if the other man couldn't see him. "Abuse of rank, insubordination, uncalled cruelness against a protected POW-officer out of personal reasons, and cowardice, because he left three of his own men in the middle of an attack; presenting them to death while he fled."
A snort was to hear. "Unbelievable! I've worked with Hochstetter two or three times in the past, but I never thought that this man is such a coward. I'll take care that he will be transferred to Weingut 1 within the next days."
"Thank you, Herr Kriminalrat. How is the situation in Berlin?"
They spoke for a short time about the whole chaos in Berlin, then they ended the call, because another message reached Burkhalter: A large squadron of more than 500 Allied aircrafts was heading from the west towards the south-east and the German air-defense was alerted. Groaning, Burkhalter rose and went to the table with the charts; trying to find out what the enemy's target could be, while a captain tried to reach the Führerbunker.
Burkhalter rubbed his neck, while he made a connection line between the location the Allies had entered German air space and the eventual target. If the attackers wouldn't change the course, they would crossed the north of Bavaria. His eyes found the place that was called Hammelburg, and for a moment he grimaced.
Even in such a case Klink's Stalag was present…
TBC…
I do hope that the errors didn't scare you off and that you liked the chapter nonetheless.
Well, there was a lot the two lovebirds had to talk about and I think it's a big difference between an affair and real love that grows. Okay, Rob hasn't said the three important words, but at least he knows that he feels them – and in the next chapter the two men will come together with everything that belongs to a real love-making. So be ready for some hot scenes.
Parallel Schmidt begins to learn more of Manfred's heritage – and he begins to learn that there is something odd about the "Vienna café-house" Klink wanted to invited him and the others to.
I really hope that the gramma- and spelling-mistakes weren't this awful and that you enjoyed the chapter. And I really would be happy to get some new reviews. And if someone of you think he/she find some time to be my beta-reader, not only I, but also the other readers would be more than happy!
I know that in the most countries the summer-holidays are nearing their end, and I hope you all had a beautiful and relaxing time.
Until next weekend,
Love
Yours Starflight
