Hi, my dear readers,
Thank you for the feedback. I'm glad that you liked the 're-telling' of the real TV-episode so far – and the next part comes now; again with some additions, background-scenes and different interpretations, yet the original story-line of the episode will be followed.
Yes, our two 'boys' had their first quarrel – and the mutual debate will come now. Both stubborn, both thinking of being right, both only want the best for the other one. Yet it will be sweet, before afterwards Hogan becomes once again Papa Bear and meets Lily. In the meantime Schmidt gets seconds thoughts because of Hogan's involvement with the German defector.
Have fun,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 56 – Rockets, romance and leaving tracks
In Hogan's quarters, the American colonel turned around the moment he heard the door close, ready to give Klink a piece of his mind, but this time the Oberst was quicker.
"Are you crazy to threaten General Burkhalter officially?" He hissed, closing the distance to the younger man. "To 'warn' him was a daring step, but to threaten him went too far. I needed half an hour to calm him down and to stop him from arresting you."
Hogan looked darkly at him. "You better should have demanded from him to get this damn thing away from us!" He pointed towards the right, where outside of the hut the rocket was parked.
"For God's sake, forget this wingless bird for once, and think about your behavior earlier! You were this close –" The thumb and the index finger of his right hand was half an inch away from each other, "– to getting arrested and deported to Stalag 375 in Oerbke that is feared for its brutal handling of POWs, harsh life conditions, and many death cases because the prisoners have to work until they collapse without much food." He let his hand sink. "Do you understand that? I had to speak with the tongue of an angel to him, practically coaxing him with my last cognac and the promise of a formidable dinner to let the topic and therefore you go."
Robert gulped as the reality crashed down on him. He really had been this close to being sent away – into a camp that was, indeed, infamous for its inhumanity? He knew that only seven Stalags and a few Oflags and sub camps belonged to the Luftwaffe and the rest to the Heer or SS. And Stalag 375 was a mixture of a Dulag (Durchgangslager = transit camp) and a working camp, comparable with concentration camps. Even if it didn't belong to the Luftwaffe, one telephone call from Burkhalter would have been enough to seal his fate. If he would have been transferred to that place, he knew what would happen to him.
Scratching his neck, he murmured, "Thank you, Will."
"You're welcome," Klink answered, still upset. "Maybe you'll think of it the next time you're going to threaten General Burkhalter."
Hogan rolled his eyes. Hell, Burkhalter really was jumpy for once. Who was the 'diva' here? "Come on, Willie, I just pointed out that he'll be in deep water if the Red Cross learns of him bringing such a weapon into a POW camp."
"You didn't 'point' something out, you threatened to go against him – officially. And this in the only possible way for a POW to get some rights by making a complaint by the Red Cross – at least until a few days ago. You…"
Robert had crossed his arms in front of his chest, but now tensed up. "What do you mean with 'until a few days ago'. The Red Cross is…"
"Is an organization that was founded in Switzerland and that, as an organization of a neutral state, was allowed to watch over the human rights which are written down in the Geneva Conventions. But last Saturday, the Swiss skipped to be neutral in this war and froze all German money in their bank accounts. Our currency fell even more into the cellars because of it. Berlin – Hitler – rages about it and is about to stop any cooperation with the Red Cross. The talks between Berlin and Basel are one big shouting session by now, and Geneva – means the Red Cross – adds its own arguments which displease the Führer immensely. And you threatened General Burkhalter with reporting him to said organization. Him, the staff officer who is responsible for Hitler's newest favorite child, namely those damn mobile rocket launchers. Do you have the tiniest clue what storm you were about to elicit here and especially towards yourself?"
Hogan stared wide eyed at him. "Switzerland…froze the German money?" He whistled. "Just have a look, the alphorn blowers got some backbone after all."
Klink snorted and threw his riding crop and cap on Hogan's little desk. "Take your own safety serious for once!" he barked, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. "If Hitler decides to skip any cooperation with the Red Cross, not only all POWs can tighten their belts even more, because it would mean no Red Cross packages anymore," he continued, more quiet now. "It would also mean that the whole medical personnel aren't regarded as neutral anymore. A 'fine' prospect, don't you agree?"
Robert gaped at him and lowered his gaze finally. Good God, Will was right for once. "If I really report Burkhalter to the Red Cross at the next chance, he'll be in trouble, what will irritate the bubble brain even more, because the Sacher cake handles Hitler's newest toy. And then the whole 'cooperation' with the Red Cross could really come to an end. In other words, I have to shut up for the sake of all POWs and the casualties in Germany and those countries, which are still conquered by the Nazis. On the other hand, this means that I'm risking my men's safety and life for it. And yours." He added, looking back at the older man.
For a very long moment, they exchanged a long gaze, and some of the tension began to leave the room as they saw the true concern for the other one in each other's eyes. Both faces softened.
"Don't worry for me, Rob," Klink said, after a few seconds. "General Burkhalter is a coward and won't risk anything for his person. If I stick near him, I'll be safe, too." He sighed. "But I'm responsible for my men and the prisoners, and this damn rocket is a threat for them all."
Hogan placed both hands on his hips. "So you agree that this damn thing shouldn't be even near our camp, not to speak of it being in here."
"Of course, I agree," Will groused, throwing up his hands in frustration. "We're completely on the same pager here, but can you tell me how I shall demand from General Burkhalter its removal AND keeping his trust in my loyalty? The latter is my only way to support you and your mission."
Robert grimaced, realizing that Wilhelm really had only tried to help him during the discussion two or three hours ago – even in a very uncommon and confusing way. And Will was continuing to do so. Hogan sighed. "I don't think that you can help me this time. This whole thing is one big mess."
"Let me guess: you have to sabotage the rocket launcher. But do you know that not one but…"
"…but two more of them in the area and that they should be launched towards England together with a planned lightening attack of the Luftwaffe tomorrow?" Hogan saw the perplexed face of the older man, and the left side of his mouth curled for a moment. "My men listened to your talk with Burkhalter before I joined the… 'discussion'," he grumbled, nodding towards the door.
Klink stared at him and groaned. "Himmel die Berge (heavens the mountains, a German adage to show frustration), can I even speak one word in my own office without your boys getting long ears?"
"Long ears?" Hogan asked, confused.
Klink waved it off. "You know what I mean." He shook his head and grimaced. "What will London do?"
"They're warned concerning the double way attack – even if I ask myself, how many air-fighters the Luftwaffe still has after the big loss during operation 'Bodenplatte'. Aren't you running out of aircrafts by now?"
"Not with the new Messerschmitt in production. Yes, the output is smaller than planned – last but not least thanks to 'Papa Bear' and the Underground, which did a good job in delaying deliveries of engines, wings and so on." He looked shortly at Robert before he continued. "But there is still the hidden work in Thuringia. And until a few days ago, the Messerschmitt facility in Regensburg sent a lot of new engines which reached Thuringia. Approximately 600 planes are ready to go into mission."
Hogan groaned. "I think I commented this whole mess a few times with 'great'. Now I top it with 'super'!" Frustrated, he shook his head. "It's like fighting a swarm of bees. Kill five and six new ones come again…like battling a Hydra."
Klink nodded before he sighed. "But if the Allies hold on, there is hope. The Wehrmacht runs out of road – hell, all of Germany bleeds out. I don't think they can keep going like this for very much longer. Try to steal something from an empty pocket, it's the same." He pressed his lips shortly into a thin line. "What do you want me to do? I mean, to sabotage the launcher here is almost impossible. It's heavily guarded, and General Burkhalter insisted of me increasing security. So, if you only came near this damn, explosive cigar would be a miracle. But to find the two others and to stop them is…practically like a search of a black cat in a dark room."
Robert had to grin at the idiom. Typical Wilhelm. He always found the funniest comparisons. Then he turned serious again. "London needs their exact location, then our air forces can eliminate them."
"And how do you want to find them? If I understood General Burkhalter correctly, they're still on their way to this area, but they use more hidden roads, so skip any idea that the RAF or the US Air Corps would be able to see them."
Hogan nodded. "I know – and the Underground already prepared everything. I'll meet one of their agents tomorrow at a meeting point from where we can watch the Flensheimer Road and the other street that comes from Hammelburg and leads to the south. As soon as…"
"Tomorrow?" Klink blinked at him. "Don't you think the general won't become more than suspicious if you don't show your face on the compound for hours and then maybe something happens to the project? This practically reveals you as 'Papa Bear' with bright letters on your forehead."
Hogan pursed his lips, while his clever mind was already scheming again. "Maybe my 'behavior' earlier gives me an alibi now. What do you think of putting me into the cooler for a day or to restrict me to the Barracks? I have to obey, or I'll be sent to another camp. Of course, I choose to stay here. Officially. For real, I leave the camp via one of the tunnel exits and try to stop Hitler's newest toys."
The Oberst shortly pursed his lips. He didn't like the thought of Robert taking such a risk, but he knew that this was maybe the only chance to stop the new rising insanity and to save thousands of lives. As dangerous as such a mission was, the well being of the many outweighed that of the few. It was what Robert Hogan did – trying to protect people, doing the right thing. It made him so loveable – and a damn good agent.
"Restricted to the Barracks it is then," Will sighed, grimacing. "I don't send you to the cooler during this blasted winter." He moistened his lips. "But even if you and this agent can spy the two other rocket launchers, you can't follow them without being caught. And somehow you have to learn where they will be parked to inform London about said location."
Shaking his head, Hogan replied, "I'll meet the agent in an abandoned hut. The Underground has equipped it with a radio and when we've seen the launchers, I radio London so that some of our bombers will fly to the given location. End of launchers." He spread his hands.
Klink cocked his head before he said softly, "Good plan, yet a bad idea. As soon as you send a few radio calls, you're detected. General Burkhalter thought of everything and required radio detectors from the Gestapo. General Freiberger in person is entrusted with the task. If the Gestapo or SS find you, then not only the rockets, but you will also find your end." His voice was very quiet now. 'What will also be my end, the one way or the other,' he added in thoughts.
Hogan wrapped his own arms around himself. "Well, the others pointed out this little problem, too. But this is a risk I…"
"…will not take!" Will said firmly, straightening his shape. "Maybe I can be of your assistance. Nothing is bigger than General Burkhalter's ego. He already boasted for more than an hour that he had been chosen to lead this 'glorious' mission. He wants to prove to Berlin his 'talents which don't lay only in leading POW camps'. He won't allow that everyone gets a piece of the big cake he expects to be presented with when the mission is successful. I try to put a bee in his bonnet that he, as the CO of the mission, has to rule everything – even the Gestapo's deployment. He'll demand that Freiberger will keep him updated and has to wait for his orders. Like this, we learn of any radio calls the Gestapo maybe detects. I'll stay with General Burkhalter in my office and man the telephone. As soon as I get the call that Freiberger detected suspicious signals, I contact your boys and…"
Hogan, approving the suggestion already, snipped his fingers. "Just say it loud enough so that my men hear you clearly through the bug. I'll take a handie-talkie with me, and they can warn me."
Klink nodded slowly. "Good idea." Then he stared at the younger man. "A handie-talkie? Don't tell me that such a wireless telephone belongs to your equipment."
A broad smirk appeared on Robert's face. "Yeah, we have one. By the way, it's in truth called a 'transceiver'. It has a communication range of 3 miles, has five valves, doesn't need much energy, and only weighs 2 kilos; the reason why you can hold it with one hand… 'handy'." He chuckled. "Yet, I would advise you to make the calls short. Two kilos can weigh tons after a few minutes."
Klink shook his head. "I think your equipment would elicit the jealousy of any intelligence-center around the world." Then he cocked his head, and worry appeared in his eyes. "But nonetheless, you'll be careful, won't you?"
Robert felt himself softening even more as he saw the true concern on his secret lover's face. "Promise," he said. "Just make sure that my men learn of any detections in time – and maybe Schultz and some guards won't be too firm when two or three of my friends come near this blasted cigar out there."
A sigh escaped the Kommandant. "The latter I can't promise you. General Burkhalter is like a hawk. I barely recognize him at the moment. The experience in Berlin has changed him, no doubt about it."
"Yes, to be on the receiving end of the own started mess can be a shock…especially when a desk jockey faces the real life outside of the office for once." Hogan smirked.
Will lifted a finger. "Rob, I'm a desk jockey, too."
"Well, yes," the American officer smiled almost sheepishly. "Yet you're far more at the 'front' like Burkhalter – and you have your share of battling week by week, only in another way than the Wehrmacht and SS." He cocked his head. "You asked me to be careful. The same goes for you, okay? Burkhalter shall never get the idea that you're not loyal to the regime."
Klink snorted. "No problem. I continue to be the 'babbling idiot', and everything is fine." He took his cap and riding crop and was about to walk to the door, but stopped one last time. He glanced over his shoulder and asked quietly, "Are we two alright again?"
Robert saw the puppy look, combined with a hint of fear – and felt his heart melting. Sweet Lord, how uncertain Will was of himself was clear like the skies on a sunny midday. Closing the distance to him, he wrapped one hand around Wilhelm's neck, pulled his face towards him and whispered, "We're more than alright." He gave him a short, soft kiss. "Thanks for your help and your effort to keep me here," he said, smiling.
"The day they'll take you away is the day I would run amok. The only one who is allowed to remove you from this camp are the Allies when they liberate everything." He leaned his forehead against Rob. "Or when you want to leave."
Hogan wrapped his arms around the slender waist of his secret lover. "Not as long as I'm needed here – independent in which way." He winked at Will, who gave him a short peck. "And now do your duty, Kommandant." Hogan smirked, tightening his embrace for a moment before he stepped back.
Will smiled happily at him, then schooled his features and went to the door. Leaving the room together with Hogan, he looked at expecting faces all around him. Both officers rolled their eyes before Robert grinned at his men while following Klink to the entrance that the Oberst opened forcefully.
"This is my last word in the matter, Hogan. You're restricted to the Barracks until General Burkhalter's mission here is fulfilled. And I don't want to hear any complaining about it anymore. Good night." He stepped onto the compound and closed the door with a loud 'bang', ignoring the curious gazes of a few guards nearby.
In the hut, Hogan chuckled quietly and turned around, once again impressed with Will's sudden, existing acting skills. Spreading his hands, he beamed. "Well, this is an alibi for me tomorrow, don't you agree?"
*** HH *** HH ***
The next morning, roll call was skipped again, and the counting was done like the evening prior. Schultz didn't ask any question as he was told that Hogan lay still on his bunk sulking, and only threw one glance into the tiny quarters. He could have sworn that the heap beneath the blanket on the upper stock bed were pillows and not Robert Hogan, but like hundreds of times before, he 'saw' and 'heard' nnnnnothing.
Hogan was already on his way to the abandoned hut he had gotten the location of from the Underground. Clad in his usual civilian clothes – brown trousers, red turtleneck pullover, black leather jacket, and black leather cap – he walked through the woods, a bag with the handie-talkie, a spyglass, and a few other needed tools hung from his shoulder. The pistol in his belt poked him in the back as he finally reached the Flensheimer Road, saw the hut that seemed to be a little cottage on the top of the small hill on the other side, crossed the street, and climbed up the hill.
He felt his tension rising. What if said agent 'Frankel' was indeed Lily? How should he react? What would she expect from him? They had flirted, danced, kissed – made out even. He always had liked her level head, her way of wrapping everyone around her little finger (including Hochstetter and a few other SS guys), and the cold blood in which she did her real job. Yet he knew that he didn't feel for her in the same way anymore like he once did. His love for Will ran too deep and too strong to allow any other flirts.
But somehow, he knew that he maybe had to fake some romantic reactions to prevent her from becoming suspicious. Okay, that he had fallen in love with a guy was certainly something she would never guess, but she would think that she had a female rival – and there was no fiercer hell on earth than a woman who felt betrayed. Yes, they both were in the spy business, but where he had been drilled within the army, she had taught everything herself, supported by some members of the Underground. She was no professional, and the risk that she would react offended and could become dangerous for the mission was something he couldn't deny.
Hopefully everything would run smoothly.
He reached the hut that was eerily silent. Not one noise was to be heard. If this 'Frankel' was Lily, she must have recognized him the moment he was in the open while crossing the road. If she already had been caught by accident, then there were two possibilities: the hut was empty, or a bunch of SS men waited for him.
Heart beating in his throat, he pulled out his pistol and carefully opened the door, half expecting to look into a dozen muzzles. To his relief, the first possibility was true: the cottage was abandoned.
Stepping into the little building, he looked around. The wooden house must have been once a hunting cottage. Antlers and other hunting trophies hung on the wall, and the one room the hut consisted of was furnished spartan. The furniture looked old and was dusty.
What really caught Hogan's attention was the Morse radio that was set up on a table, together with a headset. A coffee pot stood on the coal stove, and a basket seemed to hold some nourishment. Not taking anything for granted, Hogan crossed the cottage to the window at the other side of the building for what he needed only a few steps. Looking out, he saw the other street that would cross the Flensheimer Road within the range of sight. There was no chance on Earth that they would miss the convoy with the mobile rocket launchers. Convinced that the cottage was safe, he got the handie-talkie out of the bag, pulled out the antenna, and activated the mobile radio.
"Papa Bear to Goldilocks. Come in, Goldilocks."
He didn't need to wait for long to hear Baker answering, "This is Goldilocks. Go on, Papa Bear."
If he hadn't been so tense, Robert would have smiled now. Of course his men waited for his call – not only dutiful, but concerned about him. He didn't know how many officers in the Army were this fortunate to have not only such a good team, but above all such loyal friends.
"I arrived safely. Everything seems to be in order," he reported, knowing that this would calm his gang.
"Roger, Papa Bear. We're standing by," Baker replied.
"Roger. Over for now," Hogan shortened the usual reply. Ending the call, his gaze found the basket of nourishment again, only seeing now the bottle of wine.
Wine? In these times? During such a mission? Well, he and Lily used to share some wine last year. He became more and more convinced that his partner was – indeed – the brave female Underground agent.
A soft knock on the door startled him. Quickly, he placed the handie-talkie down on the table and rushed to the door, where he pressed himself beside the entrance, pistol ready. Only then he realized with shock that he made the beginner mistake of all beginner mistakes: pressing himself against a window, becoming a clear target. If there was the SS outside, they only had to pull the trigger, and he was done for.
The door opened, and the slender figure of a woman stepped in. She whirled around the moment she saw him linger beside her, eyes wide.
"Colonel Hogan?" She addressed him, knowing that a formal greeting would get his attention quicker than calling him by his given name.
Robert stared at her, half shocked, half disbelieving. It was her. "Frankel?"
She took a breath of air in. Something was different about him. He glanced differently at her. "Lily Frankel," she reminded him. After all, they were on the first name base.
Loosing her headscarf, she closed the distance to a dresser at the other side of the cottage.
He saw her large eyes, the short hair, the firm yaw, and her curvy yet slender figure. She smiled for a moment at him, and he felt himself withdrawing into himself. The decision to play it cool was made before he even realized it.
"Look, not that I have anything against the smell of perfume, but this isn't exactly the mission for a woman." Yes, she was a good agent, but this here was almost suicide. So what was she doing here? At the same moment, he remembered that he asked Tiger almost the exact same question when they met for the first time. He knew that this was macho behavior at best, because women had proven over and over again within the last few years that they could stand their man formidable, yet he was, just like Klink, old fashioned enough to see a female rather safe than in the middle of a dangerous situation.
Lily hesitated for the tiniest moment, surprised. Sweet Lord, she was in this business for more than four years now, and Robert knew it. Why this stupid question? Why was he so…formal?
Without looking at him, she tried to laugh it off. "Colonel Hogan, I've faced danger before." 'Just like you did hundreds of times,' she added in thoughts. She felt him helping her out of her coat.
"When was the last time you were alone with a man who was a prisoner of war for three years?" He challenged dryly, knowing that he exaggerated. After all, his 3rd 'anniversary' of being the 'guest of honor' in Stalag 13 was in six weeks.
She turned around. "Now that is what I call 'danger'," she deadpanned. She looked him up and down. He hadn't changed…much. There was a sparkle of silver at his temples and a harder strain around his mouth, but otherwise he was the same, damn handsome man with the half smirk she remembered.
Hogan saw her half smug, half amused smile and knew that the coming hours would be more difficult than originally thought. Not because she tempted him like she had done the other times they interacted with each other, but because he knew that she expected his usual, flirtatious behavior he was not really up to. He sighed inwardly. Obviously it was him now who put on a show to hide his secret just like Will did for years – decades – now.
*** HH *** HH ***
In Stalag 13, Kinchloe fought against his cold as he manned the radio, taking over for Baker despite his illness. Yes, they just received the first message from Hogan, yet he was nervous, which was a rare thing. This time, so much depended on their little 'club'. The mere thought that the whole counterstrike against England done with air fighters and three V2 rockets launching from mobile devices chilled him to the bones. The war would reach a new level. One he didn't want to think too close about.
He heard above him the door closing and knew that the others, including Baker, went outside to get closer to the mobile rocket launcher. Carter had come up with a plan to sabotage the damn thing by pulling some wires out of their original place, but for this, he had to get under the launcher – in the middle of the day. The guards had been strictly ordered from Burkhalter to keep any POW on distance, and so their only hope was Schultz.
"Suicide – for all of us this time," he murmured, while waiting for Hogan's next call. Every contact was dangerous, yet it was inevitable – and the danger came nearer in the form of a detection unit.
*** HH *** HH ***
Hogan sat down the glass of wine. He and Lily had shared private information – no, she wasn't married, and she didn't have a boyfriend (bad for the business, like she said). They had exchanged cordialities, some wine, and he had flirted with and kissed her, realizing to his own shock that Wilhelm had ruined him utterly for these kinds of fooling around. He had felt nothing while playing his old role as playboy. Hell, he rather got a bad conscious and suppressed the yearning to have Will this near.
He was even relieved as the Morse radio sprang alive. The bombers of the RAF had launched and were on their way to North Bavaria. Because no rocket launcher was still in sight, Hogan suggested that the aircrafts should make some loops and, maybe, use another target for now.
Knowing how he tooled with females in the past, including Lily, he kept up his role as a tempting seducer, even if he felt no thrill at all. To his luck, he was once again contacted, this time by Baker, who took over again for the badly coughing Kinchloe. To learn that his men had had no chance to go through with the sabotage plan because of Burkhalter's intervention that ended in shooing them away on gunpoint was irritating for Hogan. As much as London feared all three rocket launchers, he only was unsettled because of the one in Stalag 13.
Dammit. They had to eliminate this danger – somehow!
It was Lily who came up with the idea. The rockets were steered with a gyrocompass – and this could be easily manipulated. A simple electromagnet in close range would do wonders.
Getting some distance from the young woman he still liked, but not in the way he used to, Hogan called Baker again, but was interrupted as he received a new message from London.
And only a few kilometers away, one of the Gestapo's detection units got a hold of the used frequency.
*** HH *** HH ***
Horst Schmidt looked at the man who sat on one of the visitor chairs in his office, wearing the black uniform of a general of the Totenkopf-SS. General Freiberger was one of the Chiefs of the SS and Gestapo Staff and chosen by the Führer to take care of the mission's security. He had waltzed into Schmidt's office yesterday with orders from Berlin, demanding that Schmidt put half of his men under the general's command and practically took over all of Headquarters. He was searching for a defector who was about to reveal military secrets to the Underground.
Well, nothing new then.
Of course, Schmidt had seen no other way than obeying and had inwardly shaken his head as the man got a raging fit as he learned that the traitor, Major Heintzer of the Luftwaffe, had escaped. And this under the nose of his pursuers. His car had a breakdown and as two SS-recruits, who had spied on his car in the street and followed him, saw how a working troop of POWs changed his flat tire, they had called for reinforcement. They hadn't dared to do anything on their own, but had waited for the comrades like protocol demanded when members of any military/semi-military unit were still in training. The full apprenticed SS men came too late. The bird had already flown away, so to say.
Freiberger had called the POW camp, Stalag 13, and had groused about the whole matter. Schmidt didn't need to hear Klink answers. He already knew that the Oberst had defended his guards and the POWs. After all, how could they have known that the officer they were forced to help was a defector? He could read on the general's face how unsatisfying he was with Klink's answers Schmidt could clearly imagine. The Luftwaffe officer had a certain way with words Schmidt almost admired.
In the evening, Schmidt had interviewed the two recruits, who had witnessed everything. As it seems, the major had demanded assistance, had quarreled with an American officer who had been in charge of the POWs, and had enforced help on gunpoint before he had driven away. Schmidt knew that the American officer had to be Hogan, because he was the only higher ranking US officer in Stalag 13. And deep down, Horst was pleased that the man had healed well enough to lead even a working troop outside of the camp.
Everything the two recruits told him sounded normal given the fact that the major was on the run, and had no time to spare. What didn't fit was something else: Heintzer and Hogan had talked with each other – the major still pointing a pistol at the colonel, yet they had spoken less aggressive like one of the two recruits pointed out. Only after the tire was exchanged, the colonel had obviously said some unpleasant things, and the major had barked at him again.
The two SS recruits had been too far away to understand anything, and they didn't even get suspicious of an American colonel and a Luftwaffe major talking with each other at all, but Schmidt thought it was more than odd. He still did. While he watched Freiberger reading some files and waited for Schmidt's men detecting secret radios and transmitters in the area, he began to ponder the whole thing once again.
To point a weapon on a POW to force the others into assistance was strange. Okay, there wasn't a single POW who would help a member of the Wehrmacht on his own free will, but he had to follow orders. The 'big, large Luftwaffe sergeant' one of the recruits mentioned couldn't have been anybody else than Schultz, who simply could have given the order to exchange the staff car's tire, yet the major had held Hogan at gunpoint – only to speak with him afterwards more calmly while some POWs had worked on the car guarded by said 'big, large Luftwaffe sergeant'. Schmidt had also learned from the two recruits that among the POWs, who exchanged the tire, had been a very tiny man and a black skinned one.
The two males had been the Frenchman and maybe Hogan's second in command or the other negro man – after all, there were two of them now in Stalag 13 as far as Schmidt knew. Both the black skinned man and the Frenchman belonged to Hogan's gang, as well as the Englander. So two – or three – of the colonel's inner circle had lent a helping hand, keeping Schultz busy with watching them while Hogan talked with the major.
Schmidt didn't know if he was becoming paranoid like so many others of his comrades, but something was off here. Heintzer had defected and was on the run. But that he had come to North Bavaria where a secret project of the Luftwaffe should be tested the next day, suggested that the traitor was involved in said project and wanted to blow the whistle. To whom? To the Underground to stop the whole test? Therefore, his arrival in the area made sense. But the rest…
Okay, that his car had a breakdown and that Hogan and his men were doing repairs at the same road could be pure coincidence. But what if it wasn't? What if this whole thing was planned to meet Hogan? Why the colonel? To deliver secret details to the Underground – via Hogan? The latter would mean that Hochstetter had been right and Hogan was, indeed, an Underground agent. This meeting by accident and how it went in detail screamed 'oddness' to the skies.
As much as Schmidt wanted to ignore these surmises, they couldn't be denied. If Hogan was indeed a spy and used his captivity in Stalag 13 to work for the Underground, then he also had to be in contact with London – giving and receiving crucial information of intelligence and military heritage. And this would also be the answer to the riddle why Klink eventually had known about the upcoming air raid in Berlin three weeks ago and brought them all to safety at the very last second. Why this close call? Because he had learned about it shortly before the attack happened.
How?
The ominous call he received. 'A call from the camp' – it would make sense. If this call really came from Stalag 13 and it had been a warning about the approaching attack, then Klink's source sat in his camp. The same source Major Heintzer now eventually used to give details about the secret project he was involved with to the Underground.
And who was involved yesterday and maybe also three weeks ago?
Colonel Hogan.
What if the American learned of the planned bomber attack in Berlin and it had been him who had called Klink at the People's Court to warn the Oberst of the upcoming air raid? He had lived in the Kommandant's quarters at that time where there was a telephone he could use in secret. Hogan spoke German – 'not so well', like Klink stated during the trial, but what if this was a lie? What if Hogan spoke German well enough to wake no suspects when confronted with German people? You can't differ between a German and an American when both were fluent speakers. And even less you could differ between them on the telephone. If the caller had been Hogan, the young man of the SS had no chance to recognize that the man on the other end of the line was a captured US officer.
Schmidt pursed his lips. Maybe he really should investigate this case. Maybe he really should try to find out if the SS man, who received the call from Stalag 13 at the Court three weeks ago, was still alive and ask him for details. If Horst knew the name of the caller, he could find out what really was going on – and if Hogan was maybe an active Underground member and therefore also 'Papa Bear'.
And if so, then Hogan was also the man, he – Schmidt – and Little Manfred owed their lives.
He groaned inwardly at the dilemma. As a dutiful member of the Third Reich's defense units, he shouldn't hesitate even a second to reveal a spy and to eliminate him, yet he knew that he couldn't simply deliver his savior to his doom.
Maybe he should try to find out the truth, and then it would be up to him to act on it or not.
'What are you thinking, Horst?' He rebuked himself. 'If Hogan is a spy, and therefore Klink a traitor, you have to arrest them as the Reich's enemies.' Yet, he knew that this was a step he maybe was unable to do – for personal reasons. If Hogan was the spy the Gestapo and SS were after, then he not only saved Schmidt's life, he also was the ticket for Hilda and Little Manfred to remain safe should the Allies conquer Germany. And the latter became more and more inevitable. On the other hand, strong sabotage only made it possible for the Allies to conquer Germany – or speeded it up. So, what to do?
The telephone rang and tore Schmidt out of his thoughts. Accepting the call, he listened closely and offered his current guest the receiver. "For you, Herr General."
"Freiberger," the SS staff officer answered the call and listened for a moment. A large grin spread over his face that vanished as quickly as it came. "Very good, Hansmann. Wait for my call. Unfortunately, I have to contact the project's leader before I do anything else." He put the receiver on the phone only to lift it again. "Link me to Stalag 13, General Burkhalter. Schnell!"
While he waited, he looked at Schmidt. "Two of your men detected radio signals. I think we have those damn traitors and saboteurs."
Schmidt nodded – and he asked himself why was his belly beginning to clench?
*** HH *** HH ***
At Stalag 13, Klink sat at his desk and was barely able to calm his heart beat and nerves. He had seen LeBeau and Newkirk talking with Schultz outside of the Kommandantur near the rocket and had known that Robert's men were up to something. He had ignored them for quite some time, hoping that Burkhalter wouldn't notice them. But his hope had been for naught. Only two or three minutes later, the general had walked to the window to let in some fresh air, had seen Hogan's men near the rocket launcher, and had raced out of the building like pursued by a tarantella. Of course, Klink had accompanied him – not to support him, but to prevent the worst.
Robert's friends – all of them – had been there, and to Klink's shock, a few of his guards gave them warning shots in front of their feet to reinforce Burkhalter's order to get the hell away from the weapon. Wilhelm still had to stomach the scene. Only one and a half week ago guards and POWs had had a kind of peaceful co-existence with each other; now many of them had found back to the old hostile ways. The wide range attacks of the Allies and helplessness many of the guards felt about it were demanding their tolls. And Klink hated the changes. It would need time to restore some of the semi peace they all had experienced the weeks before. And the mobile rocket launcher in the middle of the camp wasn't really helpful in this case. Rather the opposite. Its presence tested the nerves of all. The guards and the POWs.
The telephone ringing tore Will out of his musings and quickly accepted the call. With Hilda not being in the office (after all it was Sunday), he received the incoming call in person, for which he was glad. It made it possible to be the 'outer ear' for Hogan's men without much trouble.
"Yes, who is this?"
He listened to the woman's voice from the other line and gulped down the piece of cake he was eating. "Oh, put him on," he ordered, fearing the worst. Cupping the mouthpiece of the receiver with one hand, he said quietly to Burkhalter, "It's General Freiberger of the Gestapo."
Burkhalter, who sat in front of his desk and sipped at his cup of coffee, only nodded, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling for a moment. At the desk was a plate with a large piece of cake placed that had been brought from the cantina. Not for the first time, Wilhelm asked himself when the day would come the general would simply burst from too much food.
Wilhelm heard the sharp voice through the line and felt his mouth going dry, while he forced a smile on his face. "Yes, my dear General Freiberger," he said, ignoring protocol. For a moment, he felt something close to panic as he listened to the SS general's message he had dreaded. Yet he managed to answer, "Yes Sir. Yes, I'll tell him immediately. Thank you, General Freiberger."
To play out time, he simply hung up, knowing that calling back would need a minute or more – a minute that could be crucial for Robert. Speaking a little bit louder, and acting as the eager officer, he addressed his superior, "One of the detector units has picked up a wireless code sending messages."
This got the general's attention. Lowering the cup down on the saucer, he said slowly. "It must be the Underground."
"That is exactly what I was going to say," Klink agreed, nodding firmly. Well, it was exactly what he knew, and he tried to ignore the fear that rose on icy wings in him. Wireless code, the transmitter, and certainly Robert's handie-talkie. The only way to warn him was cut off, because the damn detector unit located this transmission frequency of all others.
Burkhalter's eyes had widened in realization. "They must be sending out the location of our mobile rocket launchers."
'Quick-thinker', Klink thought sarcastically before the graveness of the situation caught up with him again. To stall more time, he smiled and waved off one hand. "Exactly what I was going to say," he repeated, playing the fool again who agreed to everything to show that he was as intelligent as his superior was.
Staring with cold determination into nothingness for a moment, Burkhalter turned towards him. He wouldn't allow the Underground to ruin his mission. "Order your men to search the area. If they find anybody suspicious, shoot them."
Klink felt ice flowing through his veins. Firing order. If they would find Robert, they would instantly kill him. The fear for the man he loved was almost getting through him, yet he somehow found the strength to remain composed.
Time. Robert's men needed time to warn him somehow. They couldn't contact him via the handie-talkie. He knew it – they certainly knew it now, too. Therefore, they would have to act in person. And for this, they needed time.
Risking Burkhalter's anger again, Klink forced an even bigger goofy grin on his face and lifted an index finger. "That is exactly what I was going to say," he repeated for the third time, knowing he was testing the general's nerves to a new extent.
The general grew stiff. "Klink, stop agreeing with me. You're undermining my confidence," he sneered, putting the cup on the desk.
Wilhelm only continued to smile, as if he hadn't understood the offense at all. Freiberger's men were in the field, so they should learn about the order last. It was another chance for Hogan's men to warn Robert. Therefore, Klink called first Schultz to summon troops for the search. Yes, it was illogical given the situation from Burkhalter's and the regime's side, but if you took the general's order literary, Klink only obeyed. Only after he had spoken with Schultz, he called Gestapo Headquarters back to inform Freiberger about the general's order. Freiberger had waited for the information impatiently and was furious that he had been forced to wait for more than ten minutes to get an official reaction from Burkhalter, but Klink played out well the few trumps he could use.
While leaning back on his chair, there was only one prayer that ruled his mind: 'Get away from there, Rob. Get the hell away from that hut!' Then he took a deep breath and added in his thoughts, 'Warn him, boys. For God's sake, warn Robert in time!'
*** HH ***
Carter and Baker climbed out of the tunnels, happy that Hogan had found a way to sabotage the rocket in the camp. Thank the Lord that Frankel knew so much about the weapon's technic. There was an easy way to manipulate the rocket's control, which would make the weapon useless. An electromagnet…who had ever thought that this was the simple solution to their problem? After their failure an hour ago during which they had been chased away from the rocket, they needed a plan B to stop the missile before it could be sent on its deadly journey. The colonel's new plan was super…but not easy to do. They would have to branch off a power supply wire from the rocket launcher's battery to get power for the magnet, and they had to hide the magnet somewhere near the rocket. It could only confuse the control system over a short distance, so a close range was necessary. They would manage it…somehow.
They turned around as LeBeau and Newkirk all but stormed out of Hogan's office.
"Listen, you guys," Louis began, while Carter started to speak enthusiastically at the same moment.
"Colonel Hogan has a plan on how to take care of the rocket…"
Newkirk didn't have nothing of it, as he stopped the whole talk by simply taking over command for once. "LeBeau and Carter, take care of it," he said, and tapped Baker on the shoulder. "You come with me." He hopped into the open 'bed' on the ladder and began to climb down into the tunnels.
"Where are we going…?" Baker began, but Newkirk interrupted him.
"To lay out a bait," he said, deep worry on his face.
While LeBeau informed Carter, a coughing Kinchloe, and the others of what he and Newkirk had heard from Klink's office, the Englishman jumped down the last steps of the ladder and raced towards the storage room, Baker on his heels.
"The bloody Gestapo detected the gov'nor's radio activities including the frequency of his handie-talkie. If we warn him this way, they'll have him quicker than he can call for help. We need to send them on a goose hunt, or Colonel Hogan's done for!"
Baker nodded, realizing why Newkirk wanted him to go with him. To distract the Gestapo, they needed a second transmitter to lure them on the wrong track. And he was, besides Kinchloe, the only one who could handle a radio well enough to trick the Gestapo.
"We need time to…"
"Klink does his best in the moment to stall time," Newkirk cut in, helping Baker to pack their mobile transmitter. "But I don't think he can buy us more than ten minutes at best. So hurry up!"
*** HH *** HH ***
While Lily sat at the window and tried to spy the convoy, Hogan sat at the radio, ready to inform London as soon as the rocket launchers were spied. The young woman was alerted like he was and tensed up as she thought to hear low engine noises coming their way. And then she saw them: the mobile rocket launchers. Two of them. Driving down the Flensheimer Road 3.2 miles away from Hammelburg and heading for the river.
Feeling some triumph, Hogan quickly sent Morse messages to London and informed them of the correct location, while Lily continued to watch the convoy. Within a short range of time, the rockets would be history. The British bombers weren't far away anymore; they were waiting for the order and the location for the attack, which would be given within the next few minutes.
Hogan's fingers moved the Morse leveler with practice, affirmed the location once again, and cut off the link. London would wait for the convoy to get some distance between Hogan's hideout and the place the bombers would do their work. To detonate rockets meant a lot of destruction in the nearby area, and the brass didn't want to risk the life of its top agent.
All of sudden, Lily saw something else and felt her belly tighten. "Colonel Hogan," she addressed her partner, realizing that he was more professional than the flirty man she once knew. "There is a radio detecting truck coming from the other direction."
Adrenaline shot through Hogan's veins. The Gestapo had intercepted his signal – they were on their way to his hideout. He felt his mouth going dry, knowing that only one little radio signal from London or his men would reveal his exact location.
"There's nothing we can do anymore," he said quietly. "The bombers are already in the air." He tried to calm his nerves and took a deep breath. He sent a prayer to the Heavens that no one would try to contact him now.
TBC…
Yes, we all know the outcome of this part of the episode, and how Hogan is going to trick Burkhalter – better to say, the rocket's technics. Yet there were some crudities and I tried to close those gapes (the same goes for the 'Heroes' in the next chapter concerning the electric magnet).
It was also fun to write the additional scenes – or the 'making up' of our two lovebirds in the beginning. It also fun to let Klink being a part of the upcoming conspiration, and how he plays along or acts on own initiatives; tricking and fooling Burkhalter like this.
In the next chapter, the rest of the episode will be told, but also some more things which will lead to further consequences concerning Hogan, his men and also Klink. The whole failed mission of the mobile rocket launchers – a chain of sabotages that had again around and even in Stalag 13 – wakes Schmidt's suspicions even more. The whole thing will also lead to Burkhalter being ordered to Nürnberg, where he meets with the second and third highest ranking men of the Third Reich. His close distance to Stalag 13 will become important for what follows then.
And the destroyed radio transmitter that was originally used by Baker and Newkirk to distract the Gestapo, will become a key part soon, and this in many ways.
I hope, you liked the new chapter and – like always – I would love to get some reviews.
The next chapter comes already during the next week.
Have a nice weekend,
Love
Yours Starflight
