Hi, my dear readers,
I hope, you enjoyed the last chapter, even if it bore a few bad omens for our Heroes and the two love-birds. And the whole thing will peak within this chapter.
Therefore no more words,
Just be ready for a rollercoaster of its most wild nature,
Yours Starflight
Chapter 61 – Hochstetter's revenge
"What?" This came not only from Hogan, but also from his men while they looked at Klink with big eyes, who had stepped into Barracks 2 only a minute ago. Schultz was at his side.
The Oberst nodded. "Schmidt called me and warned me about Hochstetter's escape. The poison gnome killed an SS-sergeant and took the man's uniform and identity. The Gestapo has issued an official warning."
"Merde!" LeBeau cursed. "And there I thought German prisoner camps were escape proof."
"They're not Stalag 13," Hogan deadpanned.
Klink rolled his eyes. "Very funny," he commented before turning serious again. "I have doubled the guards, and troops are patrolling the area outside of the wires including a few dogs. I'm no coward, but the chance that Hochstetter tries to get you and me is high," he said, while looking at Robert. "And a rifle has a wide range. If the damn bastard lurks somewhere outside in the woods, he only needs a free field of fire, and we two are history."
Hogan nodded slowly, pursing his lips. "I don't think that he would do it simply like that. Hochstetter is a drama queen – and he's driven by his hate. If he tries to get us, then he wants us to know that it is him who kills us." He looked concerned at Klink. "Be careful who enters the camp."
Wilhelm grimaced. "I would recognize that poison gnome anywhere, and our guards know him well, too. I already informed them of the situation."
"They all watch out for you two," Schultz added, trying to comfort his superior and the American officer.
"Yet it isn't a nice imagination that Hochstetter could lurk somewhere in a hide out waiting for you two," Newkirk murmured. "Whenever you're on the compound, you're technically sitting ducks."
"I know," both colonels said in unison, chuckling for a moment before they turned serious again.
"Under these circumstances, I don't think it is wise that you come over to my quarters this evening," Will addressed his beloved.
Hogan ignored the intense glances of his friends as he replied, "Just like I said, I don't think that Hochstetter will wayward us. He wants a big showdown – after all, he has to be aware of the fact that him attacking us will lead to his own death. He certainly wants to make a big appearance."
"What a calming thought," Klink said sarcastically.
"Kommandant, a SS-staff car is coming," Olsen reported from the door.
"Why can I never have a few minutes' rest?" Will groaned, walking to the door.
"I'll come after dinner like agreed," Hogan called after him.
Klink gave him a glance over the shoulder. "I would be much happier if you would use the tunnel."
"And then someone wants to report something to you and wonders his head off? How could I be in your quarters without stepping onto the compound?"
Will waved a hand. "We'll speak later. Schultz, with me!" He left the Barracks, while the large Bavarian rolled his eyes. "From Sergeant of the Guards to a human shield. What a career."
"Schultzie, protect our Balding Eagle, and you'll make mon Colonel very happy," LeBeau teased.
"May I ask what you mean, LeBeau?" Hogan asked; tensing up.
"What shall I mean, mon Colonel? You and Colonel Klink are friends – and you always care for your friends," Louis replied harmlessly, while Newkirk quickly bent over his bunk to get a cigarette, hiding his grin.
"Until later, boys – and please, no Monkey Business," Schultz grumbled, then left the hut.
"Finally, Schultz. I thought you would never come," they heard Klink complaining and laughed quietly. Then Kinchloe looked at Hogan.
"Coffee pot?"
"Definitely," the colonel answered, and headed to his quarters with his men following from behind.
*** HH ***
The moment von Neuhaus turned his car and parked it beside the Kommandantur, trunk towards the wires, Klink knew that trouble had arrived. The Leutnant left the car, opened the back passenger door, and took a box from the backseat, closing the door by pushing it against his hip.
The Leutnant nodded with a brisk "Good evening, Herr Oberst," while he faced the Kommandant, who closed the distance to him and the building with his typical quick steps, riding crop beneath the left arm.
"Do we already have Christmas again that you bring a present, Herr Leutnant?" he asked, as he and Schultz reached von Neuhaus.
"Oh, I think that this thing here would be a welcomed Christmas gift for radio thrilled hobby goers – or the Underground." He followed Klink into his office where he placed the box onto the desktop. Klink, slipping out of his coat and scarf, stepped beside him and glanced into the box, having a sinking feeling at the mentioning of the Underground.
"A portable transmitter radio – and it's heavily damaged, may I add," Klink said, frowning before he looked up. "If you want to get rid of it, Herr Leutnant, I suggest that you bring it to a garbage dump. It can't be this expensive that you want to dispose it for free in my camp."
Von Neuhaus stared at him. Klink was joking, right? There was no way that the Kommandant didn't recognize the reason why this damaged device had been presented to him.
"Herr Oberst," he began, with forced politeness. "I admire your sense of humor, even in these times." He pointed at the box's content. "This here is the transmitter our men found as they followed the detected radio frequency only a minute before RAF bombers destroyed the two rockets nearby."
Klink stayed in control, even if he on the inside cursed. Dammit, this could become nasty. Putting on a shocked face, he asked, "So, this is the transmitter the Underground used to give away the mobile rocket launchers' location?" He whistled. "Just have a look, they are good equipped. But, don't get me wrong, my dear Leutnant von Neuhaus, wouldn't it been better if your men found the Underground agents instead of the device? No agents, no signals – and the transmitter could have been spared. I'm sure, the Gestapo would have use for it, but in this condition…" He shook his head and sat on his desk chair.
The Leutnant's face flushed, while his pale-blue eyes glared at him. "Yes, of course it would have been better, but regrettably these bastards knew we were in the area and fled. My men opened fire at them – like this, the transmitter was damaged as you certainly learned from Oberleutnant Schmidt during his visit last Sunday."
Klink sighed deeply. "This is the problem with your guys from the Gestapo. Always shooting first and then asking questions. No wonder that you don't get all the information you need. Dead men tale to tales – or how the saying goes."
The Leutnant's face was about to become even more grim. "This is really no time to joke around, Herr Oberst."
"And yet, I thought this is why you brought this scrap to my office. I see no other reason why you waste my time with presenting me with a damaged radio transmitter."
"I have my reasons. Maybe you should…"
A knock came on the door again, and Hogan stepped in without waiting to be invited – like always. "We have a problem with the roof of Barracks 3, Kommandant. I was told it…" He stopped as he saw von Neuhaus, faking surprise. "You have a visitor. Sorry for the interruption."
As he heard that the transmitter his men had used to distract the Gestapo from his location had been brought to Stalag 13, Hogan knew that danger was closing up. If the damn thing wasn't destroyed enough and still held some tracks, he and his men were facing a dead end. So, typical for his character, he gripped the bull's horns by confronting danger instead of waiting for it to close up on him.
Klink looked up, knowing instantly that Robert had eavesdropped again. Sometimes he didn't know if he should applaud or rebuke him for this habit. Yet, like almost always, Hogan's daring nature came in handy.
Hogan's gaze found von Neuhaus', who glared at him. He sighed. "Sweet Lord, does this expression belong to the Gestapo's regulation, or was the coffee too bitter this morning?"
"Your miserable jokes will take you nowhere, Colonel," von Neuhaus sneered before he looked down at the box. "But your presence is almost welcomed. Do you know what this is?" He asked, stepping to the side to have a free look on the American's face, who closed the distance to the desk. Peeking into the box, he frowned.
"A transmitter, if I'm not mistaken – and it's damaged." He glanced up directly at von Neuhaus. "Have you run out of targets that your boys from the Gestapo now use technical equipment for your shooting practice?" he mocked.
"This is serious, Colonel," von Neuhaus said harshly.
"Of course it's serious," Hogan nodded. "The German currency has dropped technically to zero, and you damage property that is at least a little bit valuable. Shouldn't you spare it to exchange it later for nourishment?" He pointed at the transmitter. "You certainly would have gotten some bread and butter for it." His eyes widened. "Oh, I forgot; you chose canons instead of butter. At least that's what I heard as Goebbels ask around for what the Germans prefer."
Glaring icy daggers at the American officer, von Neuhaus replied sharply, "At least our people have patriotism."
"A 'nice' description for the regime's subjugation and terrorism the people have to bow to or get imprisoned," Hogan sighed. "If you want to learn the difference between free patriotism or enforced loyalty, come to the US."
"… and given this radio, do you know it or not?" von Neuhaus continued, as if he hadn't heard Hogan at all.
Robert rolled his eyes and bent over the box again. "I'm no expert, but I think this is…better to say, was an MK I or II. But I can't tell with certainty. If you want to know the exact type, you should ask your radiomen at Headquarters. I'm sure they can answer your question far better than I can."
Klink had listened tensely to the little conversation, inwardly applauding his witty fox, but also groaning because Robert's sarcasm and behavior was about to rob the Leutnant of all patience. And no one could tell what would happen if the Gestapo really began to investigate the whole mess of the last few days. "Hogan, this is the transmitter the Underground used on Saturday, and the Herr Leutnant is trying to find out who operated it," he said firmly. "So, please be more serious."
Hogan gave him a half smirk. "So, they accuse your camp to have a part in the…"
"No, I'm trying to find out if you have your hands in the mess, Colonel!" von Neuhaus said strongly.
"Me?" The American officer looked surprised at him before he groaned. "I didn't know that you come from Hochstetter's inheritance." He shook his head. "Be careful that you don't turn paranoid like he was." He straightened his shape. "And concerning your assumptions of me being the secret radioman, I was restricted to my Barracks until Sunday midday. And it was only ended a few minutes before the rocket within the camp was launched."
"Ja, this is correct. I saw the colonel Saturday morning in his bunk and…" Schultz rose to speak, but the Leutnant said sharply, "Shut up! If I want to have your statement, I'll ask for it."
"Leutnant von Neuhaus, Sergeant Schultz is a long serving, honorable non-com of the Luftwaffe. Please show a little bit of respect for his experience and age," Klink answered back.
Schultz looked at him. 'Respect for his age'? He wasn't that old – yet that the 'big shot' rebuked von Neuhaus on his behalf was nice.
Von Neuhaus took a deep breath to stay calm and looked back at Hogan, "You were restricted to your Barracks? Why?"
"Because Colonel Hogan protested against the rocket's presence in this camp too much," Klink answered for his American counterpart. "As punishment, he was restricted to his quarters."
"Don't you have a cooler?" The Leutnant asked brusquely. "Usually prisoners are sent to it when they misbehave."
Klink's face became hard. "How I lead this camp is my decision alone. You should keep care of your own responsibilities. Instead of catching Underground members, you 'shoot' a radio. Very effective – and General Freiberger was certainly satisfied with your work." Mockery lay in his tone before he pointed at the box. "May I ask once again why you brought this garbage to me, Herr Leutnant? To show it to Colonel Hogan – a POW officer who never left camp within the last seven weeks – can't be the only reason for it."
Von Neuhaus stared with narrowed eyes at him. "These kinds of radio transmitters were captured on the front during battles in Normandy. They were sent to the Fatherland to be used by the Wehrmacht. They are also used in prisoner camps to stay in contact with guards in the field should they have to search the area for escaped prisoners and don't have the luxury of a field telephone. You must have some of them, too." The Leutnant smiled coldly. "I want to check if all of your radio transmitters are here."
Silence.
For a moment, Klink could only stare at him – then his face flushed in anger. "Are you implying that this transmitter comes from my camp and that I'm involved in this shameful sabotage this weekend?" He asked slowly, fire in his eyes.
"I imply nothing, Herr Oberst," von Neuhaus drawled. "I only want to make certain that you don't have any traitors in your camp which could bring you into discredit."
"By suspecting my men, you're also suspecting me," Will snarled. "This is an impertinence without peer! Reichsmarschall Goering in person chose this camp for the test and the counter strike against England, because it's the toughest and safest POW camp in all of Germany."
"This had been clearly seen," von Neuhaus sneered.
Klink glared at him before he looked at his Sergeant of the Guards. "Schultz, when was the last counting of our technical equipment?"
"Yesterday, Herr Kommandant."
"Was something missing?"
"No, everything that should be here is here," Schultz reported.
Klink looked up at von Neuhaus, eyes furious. "Is Sergeant Schultz's statement enough for you, or do you want to check it in person? I have nothing against it."
It wasn't in the Leutnant's interest to inspect the storage. He knew that Hochstetter had enough time by now to slip out of the trunk and to find a hideout. It would be too bad if his former superior would be found accidentally because of an inspection.
"No, his statement is enough," he replied, and lifted the box from the desk. After another hard glance, von Neuhaus left the office with an arrogant expression, while Schultz rolled his eyes and followed him. The door closed and, finally, without the fanatical Leutnant nearby, Klink sat down again. "What an unpleasant fellow."
"An understatement," Hogan sighed, and rubbed his neck. "I'm beginning to dislike him like Hochstetter."
Klink snorted and slowly shook his head.
*** HH ***
Hochstetter had slipped out of the trunk and vanished into the beginning darkness of the approaching evening, leaving the rifle behind. He had no use for it. The pistol was enough. Knowing that he couldn't move freely through the camp in a black SS-uniform, he crept to the uniform store using every shadow and building to hide.
He bypassed the kennel, but because his smell was well known to most dogs, they didn't bark in alert, but only watched him carefully. Finally, he reached the door and picked the lock with his dagger. Slipping into the uniform store, he began to search for a Luftwaffe uniform in his size.
He heard how a car was started and drove away – knowing that von Neuhaus had left the camp. From now on, he was alone with his revenge campaign. Finding a fitting uniform, he quickly switched clothes, then he began to wait.
Exactly at six o'clock, evening roll call began. Peeking carefully out of the window, he saw the lanky form of Klink strolling onto the compound, while not far away the prisoners lined up. He saw Hogan standing between his men, hands in the pockets of his leather bomber jacket, crush cap in the neck like always, a smug grin on his face.
For a moment, Hochstetter felt so much hate rising in him, he had to control himself not to draw the pistol to simply shoot the American right then and there. But he clung to composure. If he wanted to get both Hogan and Klink, he had to go through with his plan. He wanted them both on their knees and knowing who killed them. Anything else wouldn't be real revenge.
He heard the voices of Klink and Hogan without understanding a word, knowing that both were bantering again. Then finally, roll call was over, and the POWs returned to their Barracks, while Klink walked towards his quarters.
Hochstetter had to wait ten minutes more until he saw Schultz bringing dinner to his superior's quarters. He stayed five minutes more in the uniform store until he watched the large Bavarian heading to the guards' dorms. Only then he left the building, the steel helmet he wore shadowed his features.
He crossed the compound, looked one time more warily around, and reached Klink's quarters; jumping up the steps. The same moment, he heard the familiar voice of Hogan shouting over the compound to alert the guards. In German – in a very well accentuated German! Hochstetter grinned. 'Got you, Papa Bear! Your German is perfect!'
This all went better than planned. He had thought that he first had to kill Klink, and when his shot gave him away, it was only a question of time until Hogan would be in the compound, too. That should have been the moment he, Hochstetter, would step onto the porch and fire at the American. But, like he heard, Hogan was already running towards Klink's quarters. And Hogan's worry would be his, Hochstetter's, advantage and final straw to let the trap spring.
Pushing the door open, he stood in Klink's living room, where the Oberst had sat at the dining table eating, but rose now as he heard Hogan's screams over the compound, napkin in hand. He was sans his jacket and tie, otherwise he wore still his uniform.
"Good evening, Klink!" Hochstetter smiled, pulling off his helmet while he drew his pistol.
Wilhelm's face lost all color as he recognized the intruder. He felt like he was thrown into a nightmare, as all of sudden Hochstetter stood in the living room like he had dropped from the skies, gun in hand. He saw the burning hate in those brown eyes, the malice sneer on the pale, sunken, unshaved face – and knew that death had stepped into his quarters.
"Hochstetter," he breathed, dread rising in him while gripping his icy fingers for his belly and heart. He squeezed them in mortal fear as the ex-major unlocked the weapon and raised it. He heard from outside Hogan's and Schultz's voice shouting through the air, while Hochstetter grinned at him.
"Your American buddy is coming, Klink," he mocked. "Exactly like I hoped for."
The second alert was given.
The shrill sound startled Hochstetter for a moment – and Klink used the only chance he still had. Throwing the napkin at the smaller man in an attempt of distraction, he took four steps around the dining table and attacked the former major. He had to hold on until help was here, or he would die.
Hochstetter yelped in surprise as Klink was all of sudden in front of him, gripping his weapon hand and hit him with the other fist powerful at the jaw.
"You!" The former major snarled, and fought back, trying to free his hand that still held the pistol.
"Drop that gun!" Klink thundered, his bravery rather born from fear then from courage. And this fear was not only for his own life, but also for his witty fox. He knew that Robert wouldn't hesitate to come to his aid, and given the fact that Hochstetter was armed, Hogan's life was at stake. Will would rather risk getting shot than watch his beloved die.
For a moment, they wrestled, then Hochstetter tore his knee up and tried to kick Klink where it would hurt the most, his mind filled with rage. Wilhelm turned aside at the last second, but the movement made him lost balance – and Hochstetter shoved him with all his might directly against the small table with the set up chess board. The table was buried beneath Klink as he fell upon it.
Knowing that he was exposed and vulnerable, Klink looked up, his eyes wide in panic as he saw how Hochstetter aimed at him.
"This is for your betrayal, you damn traitor!" the former SS-member hissed and pulled the trigger.
An outcry escaped Wilhelm as burning pain exploded in his belly, and the world began to fill with agony.
*** HH ***
LeBeau was preparing some dinner – smuggled ham with eggs. Not the mess they got served more often now.
"Do you really want to go to Klink this evening?" Kinchloe asked his superior and friend, who sat at the long table. "He was right as he said that Hochstetter could lurk somewhere in the dark and…"
Hogan shook his head. "If Hochstetter really uses his regained freedom to come to Stalag 13 to get revenge, he wants a big show before he goes down." He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "You're certainly asking yourself why I'm off to Klink's again. I haven't told him until now about Auschwitz – and after a speech from Goebbels today, I think the time's come to explain to Will why the Russians – and the West Allies – don't take so much consideration of the German civilians at the moment."
LeBeau pulled the pan from the oven from where the formidable smell of the fried ham came. "D'accord, someday he has to learn to the truth." He walked with the pan to the door and opened it.
"Did you let the oil burn, or why are you bringing the pan outside?" Newkirk teased.
"If it would have burned, you would smell it, Pierre. Ham has to cool down a little bit before you can put eggs on it. It tastes better, you know."
"Ham and eggs aren't difficult to make – only you Frenchmen have to make it complicated," Newkirk joked.
"You have absolutely no clue how to cook," LeBeau grimaced, holding the pan outside and turning his head to see if guards were watching him – and stopped dead in his movement. Frowning, he saw a single man walking towards Klink's quarters. It wasn't Schultz or Langenscheidt, this much he recognized, yet something was familiar about him.
Observing the man closer, he watched how the German carefully turned his head before he walked quicker towards the Kommandant's quarters with brisk steps – steps LeBeau knew all too well.
"That…that is Hochstetter!" he gasped, instantly waking the attention of the others.
"What?" Hogan asked, leaping on his feet. This…couldn't be!
LeBeau turned half towards him while still standing in the open door. "He is wearing the uniform of the Luftwaffe, but I'll eat my hat if that isn't Hochstetter. I know the way he moves far too well and…"
"And Schmidt called an hour ago or so, to warn Klink that Hochstetter escaped from his working camp," Newkirk cut in, eyes wide.
Hogan was with three long steps beside LeBeau and looked outside into the evening's approaching darkness. His heart pounded hard in his chest.
"And Lieutenant von Neuhaus was here half an hour ago," Kinchloe said in the background. "What if he smuggled Hochstetter in? You told us that Hochstetter swore revenge on Klink for his statements at the trial – and he hates him and you likewise, Colonel. And von Neuhaus was very loyal to Hochstetter."
Hogan had no ears for his friends. His eyes had found the figure that just closed the distance to Klink's private quarter's and jumped up the steps – moving in a way that had branded itself into Hogan's memories during the last two years like a glowing iron. Adrenaline shot through his body, while his instincts kicked in.
"It IS Hochstetter!" he almost yelled, opened the door, and ran outside. His men followed him instantly, the pan hitting the ground, ham forgotten. With icy dread, Hogan remembered that Klink expected him in a few minutes. Therefore, the door wasn't locked and…
"ALARM, WACHEN ZUM QUARTIER DES KOMMANDANTEN!" (Alarm, guards to the Kommandant's quarters!) he shouted in German to be understood by the guards independent if they spoke English or not. He heard some of them asking questions in confusion, others were ordering him to stop, while a searching spot was directed on him. And then he heard Schultz calling, "Colonel Hogan, what's the matter?!"
He had no time for explanations. Hochstetter was in the camp and was now in Will's quarters! And there was no doubt what he wanted: Revenge. And Wilhelm was unprepared, certainly without any weapon reachable and therefore, delivered to this madman's doing. Fear clenched Robert's heart, fear for the man he loved. Klink was no warrior who could succeed in a hand-to-hand combat. He stood no chance against a raging maniac who certainly had lost all inhibitions.
"ÜBERFALL!" The American officer screamed again, increasing his speed while he dashed through the yard. "WACHEN HIERHER!" (Attack/ambush! Guards over here!)
Steps drew nearer as he raced towards the separate little building, yet the distance didn't seem to shrink. The house was suddenly so far away – at least in Hogan's eyes. 'Hold on, Will, I'm coming!' He thought frantically. 'Dear God, don't let Hochstetter kill him!'
Behind him, Newkirk yelled at some guards, "Klink is being assaulted. Don't aim at us, but the guy who is threatening your CO, you morons!"
"Kinchloe! LeBeau! Was ist los?" It was Schultz again, and he sounded breathless, proof that the large Bavarian was running, too.
"Hochstetter is here and is about to attack Klink!" Louis exclaimed over his shoulder without reducing his tempo.
Schultz cursed and ran faster, rifle in hand. He saw Hogan jumping over the fence that framed the little garden beside Klink's quarters to shorten the cut between Barracks 2 and the entrance to the little house – running as if the devil was after him. And this told Hans more than anything else. Hogan's reaction showed him that this wasn't another 'monkey business' of this crazy gang, but a very serious situation.
"LANGENSCHEIDT, GIB ALARM! WACHEN, FOLGT MIR!" He shouted. (Langenscheidt, rise the alert! Guards, with me!)
Robert had never run this fast in his whole life as he pelted through the small garden. The only thought that ruled him was to get to Will as soon as possible – to help him before something sinister happened. He heard noises from inside of the building, something crashed, muffled shouts pieced the wooden blanks. And then a shot rang out followed by a painful outcry from the familiar voice that had become so dear to Hogan.
Something close to panic exploded in the colonel.
NO!
This couldn't have happened. Hochstetter couldn't have shot Wilhelm.
Will was still alive. He had to be alive! There was nothing else possible. Not for Hogan.
Speeding up even more, he jumped over the other end of the fence beside the building's wall and closed the distance to the step which led to the tiny porch.
"Colonel, wait for us!" Newkirk shouted.
"Don't go in there alone, Colonel!" Kinchloe cried at the same time, coughing.
Hogan didn't even hear them. Through the shrill noises of the starting sirens, he stormed up the stairs and threw himself against the entrance door. He didn't waste a thought that he was weaponless and certainly running into a trap with his eyes wide open. There was nothing else on his mind than getting to Will!
The door flew open, and he stumbled into the little anteroom, caught himself, and stormed forwards. "HOCHSTETTER! Don't you dare to hurt him anymore!" he roared, ready to do whatever was necessary to stop his arch enemy and save Will.
The entrance door behind him banged close, and the unmistakable noise of a closing bolt was to hear. The sound brought some sense back to Hogan's mind and whirling around, he stopped dead in his track as he looked in the light that fell through the living room's door directly into the muzzle of a pistol. Behind it, he recognized Hochstetter's face – unshaved, with dark circles beneath his piercing eyes, and a nasty grin on his lips.
*** HH ***
Kinchloe and Newkirk reached the three stairs parallel, raced them up to the porch, and without hesitation, both crashed against the door. To their horror, they realized that it was locked. Hogan was trapped with an insane man who had given up his regained freedom and certainly his life only to seek vengeance against their beloved superior and Klink.
"Colonel Hogan!" Kinch yelled, fearing for his friend's life.
"MOVE ASIDE!"
Schultz was there, together with LeBeau, Carter, and a few guards. Baker and some further German soldiers were on their way to them.
"It's locked!" Newkirk hissed. "Hogan and Klink are in there and…"
Schultz pushed him aside, raised his fist and banged forcefully against the door, face flushed, round eyes small for once.
*** HH ***
Someone bounced against the door, and Kinchloe's voice was to hear shouting Hogan's name. He heard Newkirk cursing and Schultz demanding to make room for him, but his whole attention was fixed on the former SS-major who stood beside the entrance where the smaller man had hidden in the shadows.
"Oh oh, what is this man doing here?" Hochstetter asked, almost softly with a sing-song in his voice before he chuckled, "I knew you would come the moment you realized that I was here in Klink's quarters. I knew you would come as I heard your voice shouting." He snickered. "So, you do speak German – and far better than Klink let on."
A loud banging against the door interrupted him.
"Hochstetter, this is Sergeant Schultz! Open this door instantly, or we will open it by force!" The large Bavarian rarely had sounded this furious.
Hochstetter raised his weapon and out of a well-trained reflex, Hogan lifted both hands. "Stay where you are, butterball, or I'll shoot both of them before you're able to tear this door down!" The former major screamed over his shoulder before looking back with malicious glee at the American. And it was obvious that he meant every word he said.
*** HH ***
Outside, Newkirk watched the useless attempts of Schultz and three guards to gain access to Klink's quarters. More members of the camp's staff had surrounded the building, the sirens rang, searching spots were trained on the wooden house, POWs had left their barracks and stood confused on the compound, the dogs barked and raged inside of their kennel – and all those men and their weapons were not able to get to Hogan and Klink because this lunatic had locked them and himself into a house while keeping the two colonels as hostages.
And because most of the German soldiers were mere boys or old men, they were unable to cope with this unusual situation.
LeBeau edged himself through the crowd of Kinchloe, Schultz, and four guards to the side of his English friend. "The backdoor," he said. "Maybe we can get into the house like that!"
Peter nodded, yet he knew that they couldn't do it alone. Hochstetter was armed, and they were not. Whirling around, he tapped two guards on the shoulders. "You two, come with us," he ordered firmly, jumped down the steps, pushed himself through the crowd around him, and began to ran to the left to round the building.
The two Germans stared at him. Had the Englishman just given them an order?
"Vite, vite! (quick, quick)" LeBeau said, and waved them. "The backdoor!"
Yes, that made sense. The two guards began to follow them, gesturing at some other comrades to come with them. From inside the building, they heard shouts. Hogan's voice droned out even Hochstetter's screeches, the latter showing the former major's state of mind. This all here was like a barrel of powder with a burning fuse. One spark would be enough to initiate an explosion that would claim both colonel's lives.
Newkirk reached the backdoor first, stopped in front of it, waited until the others had caught up with him, and recognized Langenscheidt, who had joined them. The corporal had drawn his pistol, nodded at Peter as if it would be the most usual thing that a POW and his jailer worked hand in hand, and the Englishman tried to forcefully open the door. It was locked.
Swearing, Peter threw himself against the wooden door trying to break it down, but it was made of good German oak and didn't give in. And then the noises inside betrayed that hell had broken loose.
*** HH ***
Hogan listened to Hochstetter blackmailing Schultz only with one ear. His breath flew. 'Or I'll shoot both…' So Will was still alive. For a second, something close to relief washed over him, then the graveness of the situation settled in. He was trapped by Hochstetter, and Wilhelm was injured. And the insane bastard held him and Will hostage.
"Where is he?" Hogan snarled, eyes small and filled with rage. Instantly, he was again in the focus of those malice eyes. "Where is Colonel Klink? What have you done to him?!" He demanded again, not caring that an unlocked pistol was aimed at him.
"Go see for yourself," Hochstetter answered with an easy snicker, building a strong contrast to the blazing hate in his gaze and bared teeth. It showed the state of his mind more than anything else. He gestured with his head towards the living room, and Hogan turned with risen arms slowly around and began to walk. He couldn't give his opponent the tiniest reason to pull the trigger.
He had barely reached the threshold as he heard painful gasps and a low moaning. They were quiet contraire to the loud banging against the door, the shouts outside, and the ringing of the sirens, but they seemed to drone out everything else.
Hogan stopped dead in his tracks the moment he entered the living room. The table with the chessboard was tumbled over, chess rooks lay on the floor, there was blood… and then there was Klink.
The older man lay on the large carpet close to the dining area, panting and clutching his belly, face twisted into a grimace of pain. Blood dwelled between his fingers which were sized into the material of the shirt. The cotton was slowly turning red more and more. Wilhelm's blue, agonizing eyes wandered to Robert wide and scared.
"Rob," Will gasped. Despite the searing, burning pain in his abdomen that seemed to grip his whole body, his mind turned clear for a moment as he recognized that his beloved was indeed here, knowing that the younger man was in mortal danger now. "For…God's sake…RUN!"
Besides the fact that Hogan couldn't have fled even if he wanted to, he would never let a comrade down. Not to speak of someone he loved. With horror, he saw the blood, realized that it was a stomach shot, and fear ran icily through his veins. If this injury wouldn't be treated quickly, there was no hope left for Klink.
"Will!" Hogan's voice sounded hoarsely and was about to dash to the Oberst's side, but Hochstetter's forceful "Don't move, Hogan," stopped him after only a few steps.
Turning towards his arch enemy, the American stared with pure hate and rising desperation at the smaller man. "He's hurt. Let me go to him! He needs help, or he'll die!"
"That is the whole point, Hogan," Hochstetter sneered. "He will die – just like you."
From outside, Hogan heard Schultz demanding once again entrance, while more voices were to hear before something pounded against the front door. Shutting those things out, Hogan gulped. Will needed medical support now. And if he, Robert Hogan, had to pay the highest price for it, so be it.
"You don't want Klink, you want me," he said strongly, making a careful step towards his arch enemy. It was a question of time until guards or his men found a way into the building. Therefore, he had to buy them time. "Take me as your hostage and…"
"Robert, no!" Will panted, horrified. "I'm…dying…despite whatever you do. Just…flee."
It pained Hogan, but he ignored Wilhelm for once. His gaze was fixed on Hochstetter. "Take me with you and…"
The former SS-man laughed again, shrill and far too enthusiastic. And for a moment, the sound had Hogan horrified. There was no sanity left within Hochstetter's distorted mind.
"This is what I wanted: you begging." The ex-major screeched like a Banshee with sick joy. "You're even ready to sacrifice yourself for your 'friend', but let me tell you something, Hogan: I don't need you as a hostage. I have you right where I just wanted you…at my mercy." The former SS- and Gestapo-man laughed, enjoying the rising fear he could see so clearly now in the American's eyes. He stretched his weapon hand and pointed the gun straight at Hogan's head. "On your knees!"
Ice water began to crawl through Hogan's veins. He knew the reason for this order. It was the beginning of an unofficial execution.
"No," he answered fiercely, pride kicking in. It was, again, all what was left for him.
"ON YOUR KNEES!" Hochstetter screamed, brandishing his pistol.
"You won't make it out of here alive if you shoot us," Hogan tried to reason with him, appealing to the smaller man's instincts of survival.
Hochstetter grinned widely at him. "Maybe I don't even intend to come out of this alive. Maybe this is the big exit I always wanted. Let the guards shoot me when I'm done with you two, and I'll die with the knowledge that I've sent you both first to your makers." The smirk vanished from his face. "On your knees, Hogan."
"NO!" The American officer shouted back, while his belly began to knot with fear, knowing that everything would be over the moment he gave into the demand. "If I have to die, then I'll do it by standing upright!"
Hochstetter felt his hate overwhelming him. This pride, this stubbornness, this strength – it drove him mad. "On your knees – or…" He pointed his pistol at Klink's legs. "Or I'll shoot first in his right and then his left leg." The former major's voice was high pitched and almost cracked with glee.
Hogan didn't care for the weapon in Hochstetter's hand anymore. He stepped in front of Klink and spread his arms, blocking with his own body any bullet the ex-major could fire at the injured man.
Will saw how Rob shielded him, challenging the mad former SS-member to do the worst, and sheer fright for the younger man gave him enough strength to lift his head.
"Rob…no… Please flee!"
Again, Hogan had no other choice than to ignore Will, while Hochstetter stared at him and snickered. "Oh, this is even better. Then I will use your knees as a target. Do me the favor of having you writhing in pain to my feet before I kill you. Just be stubborn some more, Papa Bear, and I…"
"Hochstetter," Klink gasped, trying to sit up, but the pain was too strong. "Please…let him…go… He isn't…"
The short man only chuckled. "Isn't it sweet – you both begging for the other one's life!" His mad eyes turned into the direction of the gravely injured Oberst. "Have you taken your American pet to your bed, Klink – or was it the other way around?" He jeered. "And don't deny it. I suspected you of being a sick pig for quite a time, and…"
"SHUT UP!" Hogan yelled. He was running out of time. Will needed help NOW, and if he wanted to do something, it had to be done within this minute. "As if an insane bastard like you would know about feelings at all except for loathe, hate, and jealously!"
"It kept me alive, this hate and anger. The weeks and long days in jail, the humiliation during the trial, being forced to work together with Jewish and Russian scum at those cursed Luftwaffe fighters in half risen halls in the middle of the woods, sleeping in overcrowded Barracks like an animal in a stable…" Hochstetter hollered, while baring his teeth like a rabid dog. "All the time I dreamed of killing you two, taking revenge for what you did to me. And finally, I have the chance for it. NOTHING WILL STOP ME NOW! ON YOUR KNEES, HOGAN!"
"NO!" The colonel roared, his wrath of facing death again and his worry for Will were stronger than the growing mortal fear that came with the knowledge that every second the deadly bullet could be spit out by the weapon aimed at him.
A loud bang from the backside of the house interrupted him. For a second, Hochstetter's gaze flickered towards the kitchen. A moment that was enough for Hogan to act. Without any hesitation, he hurled himself towards his arch enemy and crashed into the smaller man, who squeaked in surprise. Gripping the wrist of Hochstetter's weapon hand, the colonel forced the former major's arm up. A shot rang out into the air as Hochstetter pulled the trigger, but the bullet vanished harmlessly into the ceiling while both men tumbled to the floor.
The banging against the front door began anew like a hammer brought down onto wood. Another voice shouted orders in the compound. But it had no influence of what happened in the small building. Just as if two separate worlds were existing parallel.
The former SS-man began to kick and thrash around with unrestrained wildness, eyes wide with insanity. Hogan gasped as one kick hit him in the thigh, but his left hand still clung to Hochstetter's wrist while they rolled over the floor. They were stopped by the dining table. Rising on his knees, Hogan socked Hochstetter forcefully with his free hand that was balled into a fist, which bought him a few seconds – enough time to gain his feet and pull the ex-major with him. Twisting the man's right arm harshly, he forced Hochstetter to let the pistol fall, and he could avoid his enemy's snapping teeth in the very last second by turning his body aside.
"Rabid mutt!" Hogan gasped, and punched the former major again, who stumbled backwards. The colonel followed him instantly and gave him no time to regain some composure. The memories of the torture he had endured in Hochstetter's hands, the fear and dread that had haunted him for weeks afterwards, the bottled up anger of the past few years, the anxiety for Will's life now – it all broke out of Hogan like a tide through an open dam. Blow by blow, he delivered it to the smaller man, who all of sudden accepted the punches, only to throw himself against Hogan with a roar of unleashed hate.
They crashed onto the dining table, whose legs gave in. The splintering wood, china and leftover food were buried beneath the writhing bodies of the two arch enemies who clawed at each other. Hisses and snarls filled the air as both men fought with untamed fury, yet Hogan's mind was strong enough to stay sane. He knew that this was a battle of life and death, and he was determined to win it – not only for his own survival, but mainly for Will.
The banging against the front and backdoor grew louder, shouts pierced the wooden walls, somewhere a window broke, and it seemed to spur on Hochstetter even more. Gripping for one of the splintered table legs, he used it as a club, bringing it down on Hogan's back. The American couldn't prevent the scream that was torn from his throat as the brutal blow hit the barely healed injuries he got from the lashes in Gestapo-Headquarters. And for a moment, he loosened his grip on his opponent.
Hochstetter kicked him again and hammered the wooden piece down on him so that Hogan was forced to roll off him if he didn't want to get his backbone and ribs broken. He heard Will whimpering his name, but he had no time to look over to his secret lover. His whole concentration was fixed on the ex-major, who gained his feet and lifted the makeshift club again.
Laying on his back, Hogan tore up his leg and kicked against the smaller man's wrist with all the strength he could muster. Hochstetter screeched again while a sickening crack was to hear, and the table leg flew away. The colonel knew that he had broken his enemy's wrist and, in strong contrast to his character, he felt grim satisfaction for a moment. But obviously he had underestimated Hochstetter – or the former SS-man's hatred overlaid even any pain. The second Hogan was on all four to regain his feet, the ex-major kicked him violently into the side. The kick was strong enough to hurl the colonel against the wall, the impact knocking the air from his lungs.
With two leaps, Hochstetter was at the spot where the fallen pistol lay and took it with his left hand.
Hogan looked up, ready to act, and froze. Hochstetter closed the distance to him – a triumphal sneer on his face, left arm outstretched, pistol directed on the colonel's head, finger curling around the trigger.
Robert's mind set in again, and panic exploded in him. The dreadful realization that everything was over, and he was about to die NOW!
Instinctively, he pressed closer to the wall and closed his eyes. Icy terror filled his whole being while he heard Will gasping his name in nameless horror and despair.
A scream was ripped from his lips, as the third time this evening the sharp bang of a shot tore through the air…
TBC…
Yes, I told you that Hochstetter will get his chance, and I know that this is certainly one of the meanest cliffhangers I ever wrote. And I'm sure I have you at the edges of your seats now (rubbing my hands). And, yes, I don't give hints what to expect in the next chapter. You'll have to wait for the next update (bah, I'm really mean now).
I hope the chapter caught you and that you could feel the whole chaos and angst breaking lose within the camp.
I would be really happy to get some reviews again, so please hit the 'review-button'.
Until the weekend,
Have a nice rest of the week,
Love
Yours Starflight
