Hi, my dear readers,
I hope you – who celebrate it – had a Happy Halloween and that you had fun.
Thank you for the feedback I got for the last chapter, and I hope the following one will be to your liking, too. Of course, the whole thing with the mobile rocket launchers has to be investigated, and you not only meet Freiberger in person, but Schmidt also will be there. And he gets the one or other idea concerning Papa Bear – in other words, step by step he begins to recognize the truth.
And then Hogan has to relieve his bad conscious concerning Lily, even if nothing serious happened. Just wait, how 'Willie' will react.
Have fun with the new chapter,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 58 – A special investigation
The moment Schmidt was informed of a 'fire-ball' in the sky and an explosion in the southeast, the Oberleutnant knew that the last rocket had failed. He exchanged a short glance with Freiberger, who flushed with anger, and took a deep breath. He was a man in his middle fifties, with dark-grey hair, brown-green eyes, and a hard expression around his mouth.
Schmidt frowned at the news. Of course, the rocket could have had an error and therefore left course. After all, the V2 was a new technology and bore risks, yet Schmidt didn't believe in such a production flaw. First, the two mobile rocket launchers were destroyed after the Underground obviously informed the Allies, and now the third rocket came down not far away from its start location. That practically screamed 'sabotage'.
While Freiberger began to curse like a garbage coachman, Schmidt pondered the given facts.
Where had the defector Heintzen had a flat tire? Near Stalag 13.
Who had lent him a helping hand – even at gunpoint? POWs from Stalag 13.
And where had the two other launchers be destroyed? A few kilometers away from Stalag 13.
From where had the last rocket started and left course? From Stalag 13.
Despite the fact that this whole act of sabotage bore the stamp of Papa Bear, there was one common thread: Stalag 13.
And deep down, Schmidt couldn't shake the gut feeling that this ominous super spy was indeed the man Hochstetter had suspected for almost two years. A certain American officer with the charm of an oversized boy and the dangerous intelligence of Einstein.
Schmidt needed proof, and he would get them. He didn't know if he would arrest Hogan should the assumption about the colonel's double life become true, but the young man wanted to find out the truth.
The radio transmitter his men had detected and found had been thoroughly examined. Only the fingerprints of the two Gestapo men were on the device, including the suitcase in which it was transported. Schmidt would check this in person later again, but for now…
His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Accepting the call, he listened for a moment before he paled. "WHAT?" He gasped, feeling Freiberger's gaze resting on him. "My God. Are you all right, Herr General? What? You don't know if your wife and your sister were in the house?" He gulped, real compassion rising in him. "I'm on my way, Herr General. Don't do anything rash and stay away from the fire. The risk of gas pipes or munition exploding is too high." Again he listened closely before he answered, "As I said, I'm on my way – and I'll bring General Freiberger with me. Just stay calm, okay?" He hung up and looked at the alerted SS general. "That was General Burkhalter. The rocket hit his house. And he doesn't know if his wife and sister were in the building."
Freiberger closed his eyes for a moment, unable to ignore the wave of sympathy. He took a deep breath and walked to the door. "Let's go. There is nothing we can do for General Burkhalter at the moment, but we should be there with him. And then we have to find out what went so terribly wrong."
They left the office, and Schmidt was now determined to find out if Colonel Robert Hogan had his hands in the whole game or not.
*** HH *** HH ***
Hogan had returned to his Barracks to celebrate the successful mission with his friends with coffee and tea. The times they could smuggle in some spirits or wine had been over for a few weeks now. The black market was about to become empty like the official one. Yet it didn't lower the mood. Everyone was happy that they had been able to protect London and to stop the Kraut's assault.
And yet, a part of Robert was still tense. He really felt some unease because of Burkhalter's destroyed home – not because of the material value, but the people who may have died; among them two ladies. Klink had promised him to keep him updated as soon as he learned some news, but until now, no word was given from the general. A bad sign, this much Hogan knew. And, by the way, the smoke was still to see where the rocket had come down. What ever it had hit, it still burnt.
While in a new broadcasting, Himmler informed the people of special drumhead trials in every larger town to interfere with any kind of dishonorable subversion of Wehrmacht and civilian courage – the beginning of a new insanity within the German borders that should peak in the execution of hundreds of soldiers and civilian men – something close to routine began to start in Stalag 13 again.
At least until the early afternoon, as Burkhalter's staff car finally returned to the camp. And he didn't come alone. The black car that followed him was well known to most of the guards and as good as every POW. In earlier times, an always enraged Hochstetter had jumped out of it. Now an SS general left the car accompanied by Schmidt.
LeBeau, who had watch at the window, instantly alerted Hogan, who only gave one command: "Coffee-pot."
Half a minute later, the connection to Klink's office was activated and not a second too early, like Olsen reported with a, "They're vanishing in the Kommandantur."
With rising tension, the Heroes listened to the discussion.
*** HH ***
"General Burkhalter!" Klink all but jumped from his desk chair as the door opened, and the Austrian entered before Schultz could announce his arrival. The worry on the Oberst's face was not faked. "What about your house – and your family?" Wilhelm asked quietly.
Burkhalter's uniform was covered with ashes, dust, and dirt. His face was pale, his eyes betrayed hectic, and his mouth was firm. "Everything is in flames. It will last at least a day until the fires burn out."
"So, your house was indeed hit?" Klink wanted to know and was surprised at the mixture of pity, sympathy, but also of an unfitting glee as his superior nodded. Wilhelm had been at Burkhalter's house three times – better to say, residence – and he was absolutely certain that the expensive furniture, the paintings, and the marble that had been used for the stairs and terrace couldn't be paid for with Burkhalter's salary. Klink was certain that Burkhalter had a second kind of payment – shush money; 'benefits' from 'friends' and so on. 'Dirt money' how the saying went, and dirt money had no future. And for the first time, the general experienced the same loss like hundreds of thousands of other people everywhere in Germany and all those countries which still suffered because of the war. Maybe now he would realize the real costs of such an insanity.
Sometimes I think no one would be at war if those who initiated it would have also suffered the most,' he thought.
Burkhalter took a deep breath while he put up his cap and laid it beside the Pickelhaube. "Nothing is left. The flames are still burning high. And…until they die down, there is no chance to check if the house was abandoned or not."
Every kind of glee left Klink. "So, you don't know if your wife and your sister are…" He didn't need to finish the sentence, as Burkhalter only shook his head. The staff officer visibly collected himself and gestured tiredly to the SS general beside him.
"May I introduce the gentlemen? Oberst Klink, Kommandant of Stalag 13 – General Richard Freiberger of the SS."
The two men exchanged polite pleasantries before Klink also greeted Schmidt with a short, but warm smile. Offering the gentlemen chairs, he ordered Schultz to get the one from Hilda's office for Schmidt before he sat down behind the desk again. The large Bavarian brought in the chair, nodded kindly at Schmidt, and left.
"As I can see, you removed the mobile rocket launcher from the camp," Burkhalter began finally, and Klink nodded.
"I thought it was too risky to keep it here after the failure of the rocket."
"You think the launcher is responsible for the error?" Freiberger asked.
"It was either that or the rocket itself. And given the fact that the rocket doesn't exist anymore to be checked for the error, only the launcher remains to be thoroughly examined – but not within the range of my camp. Even if the circumstances within the last two days demanded a rather…tolerate reading of the Geneva Conventions, the danger the obviously flawed technic represents is something I can't allow any longer within these wires. The risk that my men and the POWs getting harmed is too big."
Freiberger nodded. He looked tired. Klink didn't need much fantasy to imagine the position the man was in now. It had been his job to catch the traitor, and he had been in charge for the mission's safety…he succeeded in neither task. There was no doubt what the staff in Berlin would say to all of this.
The telephone rang, and Klink lifted the receiver. "Yes, Stalag 13. Oberst Klink is spea…ah, Leutnant von Neuhaus. What? Yes, General Burkhalter is here. One moment please." He offered his superior the receiver, who took it with hesitation.
"Yes?" He asked quietly. "You link me to someone? What do you men with…" He stopped and all but leaped to his feet, eyes wide as saucers. "BERTA! Is that you?"
The other men in the room exchanged a short glance with each other. Everyone had to smile.
Burkhalter closed his eyes and sank back on the chair, dizzy with relief. "You and Gertrude were invited to lunch at Field Marshall Mannheimer's residence – THANK THE LORD! What? Yes, it was one of the rockets that left course and fell from the skies. I'm sorry, Berta, but…no, of course it wasn't my fault but…if we wouldn't have tested the damn launchers within this area, our house would still be standing." He listened and hue of a smile appeared on his face. "I know, Sweetheart, I know. Everything for the Führer and the Fatherland. Yet I'm sorry that you lost all your clothes, things – and reminders of your parents. What? Yes, at least we still have us. How is Gertrude doing? Yes, I understand. Sweetheart, concerning the question where you can stay now…that is a great idea. Maybe Frau Mannheimer is this nice to offer you two a place, if only for a few days before I can arrange something for you and Gertrude. Me? I'll stay in Stalag 13 tonight and…yes, I'll keep you updated. And Berta? It was clever of you to go to the Gestapo as you found our house burning. I was mad with worry what happened to you and Gertrude." He chuckled for a moment. "Yes, I love you, too. And give Gertrude my love, will you? Yes, auf Wiedersehen."
He hung up and for a few seconds, he wasn't the proud general anymore, but only a man who was nauseated with relief that his dear ones had been spared. Yes, he and his wife had their differences – strong ones often – but in the end, they always got it together again. And concerning Gertrude, despite her nerving manners sometimes, he loved her.
Klink felt relieved, too. Smiling at Burkhalter, he said clear and strong, "I'm glad to hear that your wife and sister weren't at home when the rocket came."
For the first time within the last few days, Burkhalter gave him a real smile. "Thank you, Klink. You really are a good friend."
Freiberger nodded kindly at the Austrian. "I'm glad, too, Herr General. The personal loss of family members is always the hardest thing within a war."
'Maybe you should remember this when you want to attack London the next time,' Klink thought sarcastically, but kept his goofy smile on his face.
Burkhalter took a deep breath and straightened his shape again. "Well, let us now find out what happened. Berlin wants answers, and I contacted Hermann from my car radio after I called Oberleutnant Schmidt and told him what happened." He glanced at Klink. "Hermann already knew the most from you."
Wilhelm shrugged. "He called the camp shortly after you drove away and wanted to know if at least the last rocket was on its way to England. He told me about the Allies' air forces, which intercepted our boys over the Channel, and…regrettably, I had no other choice than to report to him that the last remaining rocket failed."
Burkhalter nodded. "Yes, the whole mission was intervened with betrayal and sabotage. First the defector Heintzen escaped…"
"After a few of your POWs changed his flat tire, may I point out," Freiberger said, looking at Klink.
The Oberst threw his hands up. "How should my Sergeant of the Guards know that the officer, who demanded help, was a defector? He followed order and protocol, that's all. If you would have informed me sooner, I would have been able to warn him about a defector on the run and…"
"I saw no reason to inform a POW camp about the eventual route of a defector," Freiberger defended himself. "You have nothing to do with catching traitors and…"
"Yet Himmler himself demanded that all people, who can hold a shovel, have to repair the streets and roads. And, of course, POWs are brought into the task, too. It's a typical procedure. So, if you would have informed me sooner, my guards would have caught the traitor instead of helping him unknowingly." He sighed. "But done is done. We should concentrate on the mess afterwards."
"Yet it was certainly Heintzer who gave intelligence concerning the mission to the Underground in the first place," Freiberger added for consideration.
"Yes, that's my opinion, too," Klink nodded. "But he could have done it before or after he met my guards and the working troop on the road. So, the point of time when and where he informed the Underground is irrelevant, only that he was able to blow the whistle counts. It is also interesting what happened in the following two days. How was it possible that the agents of the Underground the Gestapo detected could escape? Why were no interceptors of our Luftwaffe nearby? They could have prevented the bombing of the two rocket launchers before it took place."
Schmidt watched Klink and listened closely. The Oberst asked interesting questions which certainly would prompt different thoughts, yet one little detail was odd: how quickly he steered the talk away from the incident that happened on the road between Heintzer and the POWs, and how he pointed out that the information flow could have happened before or after the meeting on the road. He pursed his lips.
Burkhalter frowned as he perceived Klink's words as a challenge. "There were no interceptors of our Luftwaffe, because the aircrafts maybe would have awoken the Allies' suspect. The RAF and the US Army Air Corps are roaming through our airspace like they own it, and we have to be careful now if we want to trick them. The project was top secret. The convoy was held as small as possible to be less noticeable."
Wilhelm grimaced. "I'm sorry, General Burkhalter, but rocket launchers including rockets are anything than 'less noticeable'. You have to be blind not to see them, and regrettably, the Underground has sharp eyes everywhere."
"We should have been able to protect the launchers better – by detecting the wireless radio transmitter and the Underground agents sooner," Freiberger cut in. "We should have been able to catch them before they informed the Allies about the route the launchers took." He glanced at Schmidt, who crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"Hansmann and Leitmüller are our best radiomen. They did everything they could do," he defended his men. "The Underground was quicker, that's all."
Freiberger snorted before he asked, "Have you examined the seized radio transmitter?"
Schmidt nodded. "Yes, Herr General. No fingerprints, no other useful tracks."
The SS staff officer sighed. "It would have been too good to be true if the damn traitors would have done us the favor of leaving some tracks."
Schmidt nodded, his face neutral. He would examine the transmitter himself for some tracks that had been missed. Yes, the device was strongly damaged after the salves hit it, and there was indeed not much hope left to find something useful. But maybe he would have some luck and secure a few fingerprints which had been left on the shot off parts his men also brought to the Headquarters. If so, Schmidt would try to get some fingerprints of Hogan and his men to compare them. Maybe like this he finally could reveal 'Papa Bear'.
The only problem was he had to do it in secret. If there was any track that led to Hogan, and this became known, it would mean the colonel's certain death, and Schmidt was still uncertain what to do should the American and the Underground agent be one and the same person.
Burkhalter had rubbed his face with one hand. "So, the seized transmitter leads us to nothing. What about the rocket here in the camp?" He glanced at Klink. "Was there something…odd as you punched the button?"
The Oberst shook his head, hesitated, then shrugged. "Herr General, I've never started a rocket before. How should I know what is usual and what is not? I punched the button you gave me, and the rocket took off. Only after a few seconds it began to spiral before…well, you know the rest." He sighed.
Burkhalter glanced at Schmidt. "Any suggestions, young man?"
"Maybe we should have a closer look at the close by area the rocket launcher was parked," the Oberleutnant said. "If there was any kind of extraneous influence, then some tracks were left. Otherwise, we have to consider that the rocket was not correctly programmed or that simply the technic failed."
"I would prefer the last possibility," Burkhalter murmured. "Then Berlin has at least one reason less to give us a piece of the Führer's mind." He rose from the visitor chair and walked to the door, Schmidt and Freiberger following him.
In the compound, several POWs were busy with doing some sports, others stretched their legs, and the others stood in groups and were talking. Schmidt looked around to see if Hogan was there, but the colonel was nowhere to be seen. At Barracks 2, a man entered the building and closed the door, otherwise no life signs were there.
"Where did the rocket launcher exactly stand?" Schmidt asked, and Klink, who only now came out while putting on his coat, pointed at the place ten meters away from the Kommandantur.
"Over there. You still can see the tire tracks of the truck."
Crouching down beside the tire tracks, Schmidt observed the ground critically. Foot prints – hundreds of them – and tracks their staff cars left were pressed into the dust and dark snow. It was impossible to detect something from it.
Burkhalter, who had stemmed his hands on his hips, looked around. There was nothing off the normal and…
"Klink," he addressed his inferior slowly. "You said the barrel over there was placed there to supply the Kommandantur with firewood." He pointed at the drum.
"Yes, a great idea, don't you think so?" Wilhelm smiled, playing the idiot again.
"Is there usually no barrel?" Freiberger asked, tensing up.
"No," Albert answered. "There has never been a barrel since last Saturday. I checked it through myself, but only now I realize how close it was beside the rocket launcher. And this makes me suspicious." He walked with strong steps towards the drum, the others on his heels.
"Like I said, this is a barrel with firewood," Klink began to explain again, clinging to the grip of his riding crop that was, like always, placed beneath his left arm. "It was put there to supply the Kommandantur with firewood while none of the POWs were allowed to come near the building and…"
Burkhalter didn't listen and lifted the cover. He saw wood – just like he saw it the day before yesterday. Letting off some steam, he gave the barrel a violent push, skipping it off. If the wood was only a trick, the real content would be now revealed. With a loud 'clang', the barrel hit the ground, and wood spilled on the compound. Sticks, branches, and logs. Nothing else.
"Just like I said: firewood for the Kommandantur," Klink piped up. "Because no one was allowed near the rocket, this barrel was set up here so that I could serve myself with the needed firewood – and you, when you were in my office." He looked with a half-smile at Burkhalter.
The general shot him a glare – and hesitated. "Yet I remember that a few hours ago one of the POWs was in the Kommandantur to bring firewood. It was this Englander – Newkirk, if I remember correctly."
Freiberger lifted both brows. "You think this drum, the prisoner's presence in the Kommandantur, and rocket's failure are connected?"
Klink felt his belly clenching, but again he managed to stay in control. "If you want, I can call for Corporal Newkirk," he offered, no one in particular, before he turned around and shouted, "SCHUUUUULTZ!"
The large Bavarian came running around the cantina's corner. "Yes, Herr Kommandant?" He already asked from afar.
"Get Corporal Newkirk at once!"
Hans groaned inwardly. What was it now with this damn gang?! "Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!" He quickly walked towards Barracks 2, like Schmidt registered with interest, and returned a few moments later with the British POW Horst had already talked to as he had confronted the tiny Frenchman. So, this was another member of the gang around Hogan, and…
And, of course, Hogan was coming, too. With a stern face, he hurried to catch up with Schultz and Newkirk and obviously asked the Sergeant of the Guards something, who simply waved it off. "I have no clue, Colonel Hogan, you have to ask the Kommandant!" His voice sounded over the compound towards the four German officers.
The two POWs and the sergeant hadn't even closed the last distance to them, as Hogan's gaze locked with Burkhalter's, and he walked quicker, overtaking Schultz. "General Burkhalter, what about your house and your family?" He asked, his face, indeed, concerned. Yes, Hogan already knew the truth, but he had to go on with the show.
"My wife and my sister were not at home as the rocket hit the house," Burkhalter answered, a little bit pleased that the opponent officer obviously cared enough to feel some real worry. He could damn Hogan to hell and back, but one thing could be said about the American: he bore great humanity.
Hogan sighed, what was not faked. "Thank the Lord," he said, and even smiled a little bit. "I really hoped that they were okay. And your house?"
"Is burning down," the general growled, pressing his lips shortly into a thin line.
"Well, the rocket hit the bull's eye then," Newkirk deadpanned, as he stopped with Schultz beside Hogan, ignoring the enraged gaze of the Austrian.
Klink quickly distracted everyone by introducing Hogan to General Freiberger, who only nodded shortly at the colonel before Robert's glance found Schmidt. "Lieutenant, nice to meet you again," he said casually.
"The same goes for you, Colonel. I'm glad that you have healed."
Hogan nodded. "Yes, the Kommandant's hospitality did some wonders." He glanced at Klink. "That brings me to the topic why Corporal Newkirk was called without me being informed about it. You know that you can't interrogate a POW without his superior officer."
Wilhelm almost groaned. As much as Robert loved to trample on protocol, he remembered very well every written, damn word if necessary. "This is no interrogation, Hogan. General Burkhalter simply has a question."
Peter, who really had no idea why he had been summoned, gave the German general a very short salute and stood still afterwards. Schultz remained beside him, nervous.
"Corporal Newkirk, if I'm not mistaken, you were early midday in the Kommandantur despite the strict order that none of the POWs come near the rocket launcher. Is that correct?" Burkhalter's eyes were narrowed. Newkirk belonged to Hogan's gang, and everything that went wrong had somehow to do with this damn Ami. If…
"Yes, I brought new firewood from the barre…" Newkirk stopped as he saw the tumbled over drum. "Which moron overthrew the barrel? Just have a look, now we have to clean up the mess."
"That 'moron' was me, Corporal!" Burkhalter barked, but calmed down as Klink made a calming gesture with his free hand. "I wanted to check if some technics were hidden in there and used to influence the rocket."
Newkirk blinked in faked confusion at him. Hogan glanced surprised at Burkhalter. "Some technics to…influence the rocket? A rocket can't be influenced except for bringing it down before it launches."
"Just like it happened to the two other rockets, you mean?" The general sneered.
"Ah, your angered comment about our 'barbarous' air force a few hours ago," Newkirk grinned, putting his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "You were good to hear over the whole compound. Well, it's irritating when the victim strikes before the attacker can…well…attack."
"Your mockery brings you nowhere, Corporal!" Freiberger cut in, face hard. "Tell us why you brought firewood into the Kommandantur when there was a barrel that supplied the office."
"Jo-mei, I gave him the order," Schultz rose to speak, hoping he wouldn't begin to sweat as he found himself instantly in the middle of the two general's attention.
Burkhalter stared at the large Bavarian. "You, Schultz? Whatever for? The prisoners were restricted to the Barracks and…"
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Herr General, but the prisoners were no longer restricted to the Barracks – including Colonel Hogan," Klink cut in. "We spoke this morning during breakfast about the strong demonstration of the Third Reich's glory when the rocket starts and that the whole world would shiver if it becomes known how powerful we still are. Therefore, I cancelled the order of restricting the POWs to their Barracks so that they could watch the glorious beginning of a new level of warfare." He lifted his fist in faked pride before he let it sink and sighed. "Regrettably, the damn cigar did what it wanted, and not for what it was programmed."
"Do I get this right? The POWs were 'invited' to witness the rocket start, and because they weren't restricted to the Barracks anymore, you, Sergeant, ordered the corporal to bring new firewood into the Kommandantur?" Freiberger asked himself who was the fool here: The Kommandant, the general, or the sergeant.
Schultz put on his most stupid face. "Well, yes. Corporal Newkirk, Sergeant Kinchloe, and three other POWs are told off for supplying the Kommandantur with the needed firewood for years now. Just ask our guards. Always the same POWs are doing it, and Newkirk was on the compound, so I called him over."
Freiberger glanced back at the tumbled over barrel and the wood that lay around it. Everything sounded a little bit crazy, but harmless. Yet he was certain that he missed something.
Schmidt looked at Hogan, who stood in the perfect mixture of being relaxed and tensed beside Klink. There seemed to be nothing off. Still, Horst could have sworn that something wasn't right here. But what?
Burkhalter took a deep breath. "We have to check the technics of the rocket launcher. Maybe the error lay there. If not, the only way to find out the truth, namely examining the rocket, is blasted." He shook his head. "The Führer and Hermann will not like this." He glanced at an uncomfortable looking Freiberger. "I'm sure Heinrich will speak with you concerning your given tasks. If you need some support, let me know. We are good friends."
Hogan barely managed to control his features as the mentioning of the three men, who held the reins of the German's fate in their greedy and insane hands, and how easily Burkhalter used their given names. It made him almost sick and…
Quick steps distracted everyone. Corporal Langenscheidt jogged towards them, stopped in front of them, and saluted respectfully.
"Yes, Langenscheidt?" Klink asked, as he saw how stirred up the young man was. "What is it?"
"I'm sorry to interrupt the gentlemen, but…a few comrades and I listened to the radio after our shift and…Herr Kommandant, the Allies are attacking Berlin at this very moment."
The news struck like a bomb itself. While the two generals flushed with wrath, Schmidt and Klink paled. Quickly, Will shot Robert a glance, who barely shook his head. No, he hadn't known about it.
"But…I thought the Allies are fighting off our aircrafts over the Channel," Klink said, really confused for once.
"Yes, they are," Freiberger nodded.
Burkhalter cursed before he glared at Hogan. "How many aircrafts do your damn air forces have to fight at two places at once!?" He snarled.
"Not to forget the Amis also battle in the Pacific area," Freiberger murmured.
The colonel shrugged nonchalant. "How shall I know, General? I'm a POW for almost three years now. The only news I get are some results of our football or basketball teams."
It seemed as if Burkhalter was too furious to find a fitting answer. Balling his fists, he nodded towards the Kommandantur. "Let us hear how much the cursed Air Force reduces now to rubble. There isn't so much left of Berlin middle to be razed!" He shot another look at Hogan, who simply lifted both brows.
"Don't look at me, General. Your Führer started this war, not us. Don't complain if you're biffed on the nose. By the way, maybe you should consider that the bill is paid by your citizens, not by the chief of staff and the tiny private with the moustache."
Freiberger stiffened. "What are you calling our beloved Führer?!" He demanded.
"Didn't you know? During the whole first war he didn't manage to become more than a private – and now he acts as a leader who is better than the whole staff of trained generals together." He pushed the hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "If you trust an amateur, it's your decision. But don't cry when the whole thing backslaps now."
Swearing, Freiberger stormed towards the Kommandantur. Burkhalter stared at Klink. "You should teach this man a lesson, Klink. Now!"
"Why, because I said a truth you don't like?" Hogan topped the whole 'discussion'.
"HOGAN!" Klink snapped. "That's quite enough! To voice your opinion among your men is one thing, but in the presence of our chief of staffs you behave!" He turned to leave. "Last warning, Hogan. I mean it." With this, he hurried after the two generals, only Schmidt remaining where he was.
Hogan had rolled his eyes, realized that the Oberleutnant was still there, and looked at him. "With the Iron Eagle and two sour generals out of the picture, I finally can do something that is overdue."
Schmidt turned towards him. "And what would that be?"
The colonel gave him a real smile. "I haven't had the chance to thank you for your support until now, Lieutenant. Thank you."
Schmidt's face showed the surprise he somehow felt. "Whatever for, Colonel?" He asked.
"You brought the poker as proof for Hochstetter's insanity to the trial as well as written reports of witnesses." As he saw Schmidt's thunderstruck expression, he added, "The Kommandant told me what happened at the People's Court – that your statements and reports were mostly responsible for the judge's sentence in the end. To go against a superior officer is a dangerous thing – especially in your country, I think. You always need sound proof in such cases. In Germany, you certainly need waterproof evidence ten times over. But courage is something you, thank the Lord, don't lack of – seeing that you took over charge down in the subway station during the air raid and afterwards, saved a little baby boy."
Schmidt, who had flushed a little bit by receiving such a compliment, frowned a moment later before he murmured, "Oberst Klink shared a lot with you, Colonel Hogan."
"We've become something like friends. I worried for him as the air raid in Berlin became public within the camp, and he told me later about his and your struggle to stay alive," Hogan answered softly. "And what made me really impressed was that you took an orphan into your charge." At the mentioning of Manfred, Schmidt had to smile, and Hogan knew instantly that his assumptions had been right. "I think the imp caught you good," he teased, and Horst shrugged.
"Well, he is such a sweet little guy. You simply have to love him."
"And the current foster mother belongs to this affection, too," Robert joked. He had to chuckle as the young man blushed strongly and lowered his gaze. "It's okay," Hogan said. "Our Hilda is a very special young lady…and I hope you're serious about this affair."
"Herr Hogan!" Schultz protested, "As nice as it is that you worry for the big shot's secretary, I do not think her private life is any of your concern."
"On the other hand, Hilda is my friend…and I always take care of my friends, as you know by now," the American officer answered.
"Yes, he really can show claws and teeth when it comes to us," Newkirk nodded.
Schultz groaned dramatically. "Yes, this is well known. But I think in this case the colonel has absolutely no saying in the matter. Of course the Herr Oberleutnant is serious about courting our Hilda. He is, after all, a decent gentleman. Am I right?" He addressed Horst, who looked with big eyes at him.
Was he mistaken, or was he tested by the colonel and the Sergeant of the Guards concerning his intentions with Hilda? He glanced at both and saw the same expression on their faces and the same look in their eyes. He had to chuckle. "And there I thought Hilda already had a father. But, as it seems, she has three."
Hogan cleared his throat. "For your information, Lieutenant, I turn 40 in April. Therefore, I couldn't be her father."
Schmidt grinned for a moment. "Vain, Colonel?" He laughed quietly, as Hogan rolled his eyes. "All right, then she has an older brother in you, and a kind of uncle in you, Sergeant Schultz."
"Well, she really is a sweet lady. She reminds me of my eldest daughter: Anna. Of course I watch out for her."
"SCHUUUUULTZ! Stop chattering around and come over here!" Klink stood on the porch, gesturing wildly.
Hans sighed again. "Jesus, Maria, und Josef, I wish the two generals a good riddance. Maybe then the Kommandant will be himself again." He headed towards the Kommandantur.
"Poor Schultz," Newkirk chuckled. "I think only a Strudel from LeBeau can save his day."
Schmidt watched the large figure walking away, and the expression on the two POWs' faces: sympathy.
'This here isn't a normal POW camp,' he thought. 'The senior POW officer and his men are far too chummy with their guards. And Klink always steps in when Hogan is about to get into deep water with General Burkhalter. They ARE friends. I ask myself what I would find if I got the chance.'
*** HH *** HH ***
The large air raid over Berlin was successful, but also gravely for the citizens. As the 1,112 bombers and more than 700 air fighters left the area, suffering the loss of only 13 bombers and a few fighters, more than 80,000 citizens were left homeless. By now, more than 70% of the town lay in ruins, yet the leading staff officers, ministers, and Hitler himself were save in the Führerbunker that was almost finished with being constructed. In the following weeks until the end of war, it should function as the commando center of the regime.
Burkhalter received a call in the evening that he had to come to Nürnberg the following day. As it seems, Goering and Himmler had left Berlin before the air raid happened and had traveled towards North Bavaria to the NS party's central office to investigate the whole failure and to demand answers.
Inwardly, Klink applauded, but was also grumbling because concerning the first, it meant that Burkhalter would be out of his hair, and concerning the second: why had the Reichsführer and Reichsmarschall left before the raid happened. With a little bit of help from Lady Fortuna, those two could have been history now, but no chance. As is seems, those two men as well as the Führer himself had made a pact with the devil in person, because every attempt to get rid of them failed – and mostly with a big portion of luck. When Klink thought of the many tries of assassinations against the Führer and that the man was still very much alive, continuing with his insane plans and regards, he got frustrated.
At least Burkhalter would be away tomorrow, and then – hopefully – Will could spend some cozy (and passionate) hours with Rob again. They had to celebrate the successful mission in their own way.
At the next morning, Burkhalter left Stalag 13, and no one was irritated to see him go. Especially Hogan. The general was often in a bad mood, but the furious and hateful way the Austrian had reacted within the last few days gave the colonel second thoughts about Burkhalter's character. Until now, he only had him regarded as a rather cowardly man who wormed through his job and life like a snake, ready to spit some poison if necessary, but he always had kept some humanity and sympathy with others. This seemed to be over now – or, Hogan hoped, was only buried beneath a big deal of shock.
Klink had said that 'Berlin' had changed Burkhalter, something Robert could understand. To be caught in such a situation certainly left mental scars in everyone, and Hogan was even satisfied that Burkhalter had been forced to endure for once what the German people did on a regular basis now. Yet, to have a spiteful Burkhalter was less comfortable than having the old one, and Hogan would have a problem less if the 'old' Burkhalter would re-appear again.
*** HH *** HH ***
While Lebanon declared war against Germany and Japan, and RAF aircrafts attacked Mainz, Winston Churchill published the British government's agreement with the joint resolutions of the conference in Yalta.
This all didn't count for the high ranking staff members who met in Nürnberg in secret. Burkhalter knew that he, as the man in charge of the failed mission, walked on thin ice now, and his only chance was his friendship with the two Reichs staff members. Freiberger had been called to the meeting, too. Because he had taken over command of the Hammelburg Gestapo Headquarters, it was up to him to answer to the staff, and Schmidt was off the hook. After all, the Oberleutnant hadn't been in charge of the whole mission.
In the meantime, normal life returned to Stalag 13 – and Klink was in the best mood, happy to be rid of Burkhalter and the 'damn flying cigar'. Because they hadn't had a chance to speak in private with each other more than a few words within the last few days, Klink invited Hogan over to his quarters for lunch. Like this, they could talk about the last mission.
Robert was glad for the opportunity to tell Will what happened…especially concerning Lily Frankel. It was something that weighed on his soul, even if he had been distracted at most times since he left the little hunting cottage and, therefore, the young woman.
How well Wilhelm knew him by now was clear to see, as the Oberst said outright, "Spill, Rob. Something is eating you inwardly, and I think it has to do with this chaos in the last few days."
For a moment, Hogan could only stare at him, then he chuckled and shook his head in amused affection. "You really know me, Will." He sipped at the water and dried his mouth with the napkin before he said slowly, "It's about the Underground agent I worked with."
"Was something the matter with him?" Klink asked.
"Not 'him'…her," Robert replied, and watched the older man closer, who looked only expectantly at him.
"A lady spy, huh." Will felt for a short second something close to fear reaching for him. That Robert maybe had found a liking to the woman, then he rebuked himself. Rob loved him. There was no reason to doubt him. "And what was the problem?" He prompted.
Hogan sighed. The trust Will show increased his bad conscience. "I knew her from earlier times. You know her, too. Lily Frankel – the singer at…"
Klink nodded with a short smile. "Yes, I remember – legs 'til the throat, movements of a cat, a warm, seductive voice, good songs." He chuckled. "So, she was a spy. I always thought that there was something off with her, but that she is in the spy business had never occurred to me." He sighed, before he grinned. "And to think that Major Hochstetter tried to woe her and even took dancing lessons from LeBeau for it." He laughed quietly. "And I used her as an alibi for my true nature. And you know her from your secret job here within Germany. The world is truly crazy."
Hogan felt a smile tugging at his mouth, too. "Yeah, you're telling me. I think every male flirted with her."
Klink pursed his lips. "Including you," he stated.
"Yes, including me," Robert confirmed. "You know me. I used to flirt around a lot."
The famous scales fell from Wilhelm's eyes. "And you did again – as you met her on Sunday."
Hogan sighed deeply. "Yes, I did. She expected this behavior from me, and I…well, I didn't want to put her nose out of the joint. I know she feels more for me, and…I feared she would react unprofessionally if she thought I'd dropped her."
Will nodded slowly. "So you flirted back like you did all the times before."
"Yes," Robert admitted softly. "I also…wanted to know if there's something between us…if I could feel for her more again as simple respect."
"And?" Klink wanted to know – really wanted to know. Yes, he was aware of Robert's love for him, yet until a few weeks ago, Hogan had been strict straight. Curiosity if something of the old life was still there was something Will had expected sooner or later.
Hogan let himself fall back against the chair's backrest. "What shall I say? You've ruined me for everybody else, Wilhelm Klink." He saw the beginning proud smile on his lover's face, and added truthfully, "I held Lily in my arms…and felt nothing. Absolutely nothing, despite an extremely bad conscience and guilt…because it was like betraying you." He lowered his gaze. "She kissed me, and all I wanted was to be far away…here with you." He looked up again. "I'm sorry, Will. I simply didn't know what to do for once, so…" He stopped, as Klink rose, laid the napkin beside the empty plate, and rounded the dining table.
For a moment, Robert felt his mouth going dry, fearing that his lover was angry and would accuse him of disloyalty. He did feel like he had been unfaithful to Will, despite the fact that he had been highly uncomfortable with Lily hanging around his neck. But he had – indeed – flirted in his old ways with her, and this hadn't been okay with him being taken.
Then he saw the loving expression in those blue, impressing eyes as Will bend over him. Hogan turned towards his beloved and smiled, as Wilhelm's long, sensual fingers combed through his hair.
"Rob, you're not gay. Not in the common sense," Klink whispered tenderly. "Yet, here we are – madly in love with each other, but still everything is new for you. That you wanted to test yourself if there is something left of your old way of feeling is understandable." He bent down even more. "I knew that this day would come. The day you would try to give the old way a go again. And that you told me about it like an admission of guilt shows me how deep you really feel for me and that I have no reason to be jealous." He smiled softly. "Don't worry that I'm angry. I'm not. You did what you had to do to end the mission successfully…and used the given chance to find out if you still could be tempted by the softer gender. Obviously, you're not tempted."
"No," Rob murmured, feeling relief washing over him like a tidal. "Just like I said: you ruined me for anybody else. The gender doesn't matter. It's you, I love."
"I know," Will breathed. "I know, and I ask myself over and over again why you love me, but I'm too grateful to have you in my life to try and find an answer for that question. And I'm happy that you trust me this much to tell me about the whole thing at all."
"Of course, I had to tell you," Robert answered quietly. "I don't want even the tiniest thing to stand between us. And…I really did have a bad conscience."
Seeing the big puppy eyes, Wilhelm couldn't help himself anymore. Catching his beloved's lips with his in a soft, sweet kiss, he murmured finally against Rob's mouth, "Forget your worry, hon. I understand you. But please don't let it become a habit, okay?"
Hogan laughed quietly, as he wrapped both arms around the older man, eyes shining with relief. "Never. I want only one person this close to me, and that's you."
"And that's all that counts," Will answered gently, before their mouths met again. This time, with passion and longing.
TBC…
Well, sometimes Klink shows a wisdom you would never assume. Of course, he is older than Hogan and has far more experiences in this kind of love-department, including confused partners, yet I think his reaction shows, how much he not only loves his witty fox, but also how much he understands.
Burkhalter departed from Stalag 13, and usually there should come some calm time now – but fate has other plans.
In the next chapter, you'll meet Hochstetter again. A very fateful incident gives him the chance he had waited for since he was brought to Mühldorf, what will lead to something very nasty and scaring.
I hope, you liked the new chapter and I would be very glad to get some reviews (hint-hint).
Have a nice rest of the weekend,
Until next week (eventually Wednesday or Thursday)
Yours Starflight
