Hi, my dear readers!
Like promised comes here the next update. I know that you're all eager to learn how 'Willie' is doing, and if the whole plot that led to the mess, will be revealed. Well, being the mastermind and planner of the most unruly plans, Hogan gets of course a certain idea how Hochstetter had been able to burst into Stalag 13 at all. And to get those men, who are responsible for the almost-death of Wilhelm, Robert has no problems to team up with someone he distrusts.
And there will be more: Burkhalter confronts Hochstetter and recognized how crazy the man has become – but a few things have a sound of truth, of what he will remember later.
I'm glad that the last chapter caught you, too, and therefore thank you for the feedback.
Now be ready for another rollercoaster in 'our' camp,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 64 – An unexpected Alliance
"How is he doing, Doctor?" Hogan asked quietly, fearing, but also yearning for the answer.
Birkhorn took a deep breath. "We removed the bullet that, thank the Lord, missed the main aorta and didn't hit any vital organs. It entered his body between his stomach and liver and was stuck in the lowest rib just beside the backbone. As it seems, no nerve damages were made, but we've to check if he can move his legs after he woke up. That's the good news."
"And the bad?" Robert whispered, not aware that his hands were balled into fists.
"He lost a lot of blood, and even the donations he got can't catch everything. His pulse and circulation are low, and he possibly has gone into a coma."
Robert swallowed, his heart beating painfully in his chest. Coma or not…it would decide Will's fate, too.
"What does his chances look like?" Burkhalter raised to speak, who had heard the doctor's report while closing the distance with Hogan, stopping now beside the colonel. Throwing a short side glance at the American, he recognized the tension that made the younger man stiff like stone, and he also saw the fear Hogan tried to hide. Good God, if he ever had any doubt about the two officers' friendship, then those doubts had been destroyed now. Somehow, along the way, the two men who were forced to walk side by side for almost three years now had turned from enemies to friends. And even if this was completely against all written and unwritten rules, it gave Burkhalter some hope for the future that after the war not only hate and grudges would remain. The last two days in Nürnberg had shown him how much loathe could twist a man's mind. He barely recognized his 'good friend' Heinrich anymore – or Hermann.
Birkhorn took a deep breath. "If he survives the next 72 hours, his chances will rise."
"And how they are now?" Hogan asked, voice hoarse.
"Thirty percent at best," the surgeon answered, with compassion. It was more than obvious how strong the friendship between the two colonels had bloomed since Hogan's rescue from the Gestapo Headquarters almost two months ago.
Robert felt a lump in his throat.
"Thirty percent," Carter said quietly, trying to cheer up his friend and superior. "That doesn't sound so bad."
"But not good, either," Burkhalter commented. "May I see him?"
"The nurses and camp medic Wilson are still cleaning him from the surgery, but afterwards nothing speaks against it."
"Will you take him with you to the hospital?" Kinchloe asked softly.
The surgeon shook his head. "He's too weak to be transported – especially given the condition of the streets between here and Hammelburg. And, to say the bitter truth, the hospital is filling up with refugees from Bohemia and Czechia as well with soldiers coming back from the Eastern Front. We're running out of space and medications. Oberst Klink will have it far more comfortable and calmer here." He rubbed his neck. "But I advise to give him a bed that is separated from the others in the main room so that he can be treated without any disturbances."
"Hadn't the Kommandant had a folding screen in the backroom of his office in the beginning?" Newkirk asked. "If I remember correctly, he used it when his quarters were still under construction, and he slept in the Kommandantur."
"I think we put it into the material stock after the Kommandant moved into his own private quarters," Schultz murmured. "If you or Sergeant Carter could search there…"
"Consider it as done," the Englishman replied softly.
Burkhalter had listened to the short exchange, baffled how willing Hogan's gang was to offer help. Then he glanced back at the surgeon. "How will you proceed from here on?"
"My staff and I will remain here until tomorrow morning. Dr. Glockner will take over the watch and will keep me updated. I will stop by tomorrow evening. There isn't much we can do now except wait. We've done everything we can. The rest is up to him."
"Have you given him penicillin?" Hogan wanted to know, and the doctor sighed.
"He got a high dose during his bronchitis two months ago, and penicillin remains in the bloodstream for many weeks afterwards. But seeing that he lost so much of his blood, I gave him a low wide range dose to help his body fight off any infection he might have." He grimaced. "We're running out of those medications now, though. I have some painkillers left, but…" He shrugged and gave Hogan a short, firm glance – a silent message that dared the colonel to do something.
Robert gave him a tiny nod in return. He would call London to demand penicillin and painkillers. Wilhelm Klink was an official member of the Underground now and had supported the Allies in his own way for more than two years. London had to help – or Hogan would pay them a visit they would never forget. He had his ways to get to England if necessary, and if Will's life depended on it, he would be damned not to use one of the many secret paths he and the others used to smuggle people out for years now.
"When will we know if he'll make it or not?" Burkhalter asked.
"Like I said: If he survives the next two or three days, his chances will be good. If not…" He took a deep breath and spread his arms. "I'm sorry, but that's all I can tell you right now."
The general nodded slowly. "Thank you for your help, Doctor. For yours and that of your staff."
The door opened again, and a nurse glanced outside. "We're done, Doctor," she said, and her eyes widened as the American officer she had seen on her arrival simply bypass her while gritting out, "May I?" He stopped beside the jacked up stretcher where Klink lay wearing a white hospital gown Birkhorn had brought with him.
Robert ignored the sticky smell of blood, medications, and disinfection agents that filled the air. His glance was locked on Wilhelm. The older man was frighteningly pale, so deathly still it gave Hogan the chills. The Oberst was linked to additional oxygen, and an IV injection was stuck in his left hand. The bag that hung beside him on the holder provided him with another blood transfusion. And if weren't for the soft movements of Will's chest, Rob would have thought he was gone.
Biting his lips, he bent down and placed his hand over Klink's cold one, squeezing it gently. "Don't give up, Will," he whispered. "You've made it this far – the bullet is out and can't threaten you anymore." He sensed a movement beside him, but his attention was still fixed on his secret lover. "Just fight like you did within the last few hours. Don't give up, you hear me? You're needed here."
"I don't think that he can hear you, Hogan. But there is the saying that unconscious people do sense the presence of closed ones and friends, and gain strength from it. Maybe your presence will help him." Burkhalter stopped beside him and looked down on his inferior.
And out of nowhere sadness rose in him. Yes, Klink was a nuisance who had cost him dozens of nerves. There had been moments he had been close to kicking him out of the Service whenever Klink sent him up the wall. Hell, sometimes he even imagined shooting the idiot or eating his own cap in frustration. But now…
The general swallowed. As foolish as Klink could be most of the time, he was also a good man – someone who wasn't infected of the insane evilness that seemed to grasp more and more staff officers the more the war seemed to be lost. Klink remained himself – a relict of the first war, filled with the regards of honor from a world that didn't exist anymore. In his own way, Klink was stronger than he was, simply because the Oberst went on no matter what. He kept the darkness out of his camp. At least until now, as he almost became another victim of the madness that ruled so many other men.
Klink was sometimes like an oversized child – so amazingly ignorant of what was going on outside of the camp. It was dangerous, yes, but it also had kept him sane. And suddenly Burkhalter wished that Klink would open his eyes, chuckle in his silly way, and would say something that would irritate him. He wanted his inferior to live a long life until he was old and grey – because deep down, Burkhalter knew that Klink was the better man between the two of them. And he owed Klink his life. Something he would never forget.
His gaze wandered once again over the deathly pale face, then down over the poorly covered body and…Burkhalter's eyes widened. Hogan was holding Klink's hand? Yes, it could be seen as a kind of comfort, but…
Looking up at the American, he pursed his lips. Hogan was uncharacteristically still, his brown eyes that hung on the Oberst's form, were filled with an intensity that took the general by surprise. As if he wanted to Klink to wake up. And it was more than obvious how shaken the younger man was because of the Oberst's condition.
Giving into an impulse he couldn't imagine of doing a few days ago, Burkhalter lay a hand on the colonel's shoulder and said quietly, "Let the doctors place him onto a comfortable bed and give him some space. There is nothing more we can do at the moment." He met Hogan's burning gaze as the American turned his head. Burkhalter took another deep breath. He would speak later about this fierce protectiveness Hogan radiated. Right now there were more important things to do. "You heard the doctors; we have to wait. In the meantime, you can wash and change. I'll try to find out how this mess happened to begin with."
He knew that it was forbidden to display any sympathy to 'the enemy', yet Burkhalter couldn't help himself but offering a hue of compassion. He knew Hogan for almost three years now, and it felt right to show some empathy to the man's strong distress…even if the American's brashness and impertinence often drove him up the next wall. He clapped him on the shoulder. "Chin up, Hogan. Klink is stronger than you think."
And the colonel seemed to have understand his hidden intentions. "Thank you," he murmured softly, and stepped back as a tired Wilson and the other surgeon, Dr. Glockner, stepped to the stretcher to bring Klink out of the makeshift operating room.
Outside, Hauser and a nurse had separated a bed from the others, and Baker said quietly, "Newkirk and Carter went with a guard to the material stock to search for the folding screen. If we position it between his bed and the others, the Kommandant will have more privacy without too much effort."
"Thank you, Sergeant." Burkhalter nodded, and he and the others in the large room watched how the medical staff put Klink on the bed, covering him with clean lines and a comforter. Only then the general turned to leave, but glanced back quickly. "Hogan, go clean yourself up," he ordered firmly.
The colonel nodded, mind absent. Then something else hit him, and before Burkhalter could leave, the younger man called him back.
"General?"
Grimacing, the staff officer stopped. "What is it?"
Hogan closed the distance to him and lowered his voice. "You're going to see Hochstetter?"
Burkhalter's little eyes glanced warily at him. "Yes. Why?"
"He's going to tell you something about me you certainly won't like," the American began calmly.
"And what would that be?" With rising tension, the general watched how those dark eyes began to flare with a dangerous fire, yet the colonel's face seemed to be set into stone.
"I gave him a promise you should learn about from me, and not from him." He took a deep breath. "If Klink dies, I'll kill him."
Burkhalter's jaw was about to hit the floor for a moment before he closed his mouth with an audible 'click' and took a very, very deep breath. "You…you know what this would mean for you?" he asked quietly, after he found his ability to speak again.
"Yes." No hesitation, no fear – only unwavering determination.
Observing the younger man, Burkhalter pursed his lips. "Revenge doesn't suit you, Hogan," he said slowly, and it didn't surprise him that he didn't get any reply. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he finally murmured, "Maybe it won't come to that. Klink may survive his injuries."
"And Hochstetter?" Hogan pressed, a low growl in his voice.
The Austrian grimaced before he sighed. "Before I watch you freeing Earth from him and I'm forced to send you to a firing squad, I'll do what I have to do." He turned to leave, but looked back one more time, as he added with an unusual gentleness but seriousness, "I respect you, Hogan. I even admire your bravery, and I can understand the wish to avenge someone you regard as a friend…but we both know the price of the latter you would have to pay. And we both know that Klink wouldn't want that, seeing that he even risked his life to protect you at the beginning of January. So stay away from the cooler."
"General…"
"I'll see to it that Hochstetter gets what he deserves and those who are his partners in crime, too. So stay out of it, Hogan. You and Klink may have developed an unruly friendship we will speak about later, but he is my inferior – someone I'm responsible for. We've known each other for many, many years. Believe me, you're not the only one who wants to make Hochstetter pay for what he's done." He vanished into the night, only to stop a few steps in front of the infirmary, and Hogan heard him ordering the guards to make a short roll call, during which he would inform everyone about Klink's condition.
LeBeau rounded him and walked to Hogan, carrying the trousers of the American dress uniform and his bomber jacket. "I thought you would feel more comfortable in this than in the stiff jacket," he said, offering his friend and superior the clothes.
"Thanks, LeBeau," the colonel murmured, watching Burkhalter. LeBeau followed his gaze.
"What do you think, mon Colonel? Will he send Hochstetter to a firing squad?"
"If not, it'll be me who gets rid of one of Satan's sons," Robert answered.
"What?" Louis gasped and glanced up at him. "But, mon Colonel, then they would send you…"
"I made a vow, LeBeau," Hogan interrupted him. "When you were still out cold because of the blood in Klink's quarters, I promised Hochstetter to kill him should Will die. And you know me: I always keep my promises." He took the clothes from a shocked Louis and walked towards the washing room. His glance found the bed in the rear part of the sick room, and he swallowed. 'Hang on, Will. Don't listen to the sweet voice Death tries to lure his victims with. Come back to me. I beg you.'
LeBeau scratched his head and exchanged a worried glance with the two POWs nearby. "Mon Dieu," he murmured. "That man drives me crazy sometimes."
*** HH *** HH ***
Hochstetter sat on the cot, had wrapped his arms around himself, and rocked back and forth. He seemed to not realize the nearing steps that came down the stairs, walked towards his cell, and stopped in front of the door.
Burkhalter stared in the dim light of the little lamp at the smaller man who indeed wore the uniform of a Luftwaffe guard. It looked so wrong on him. After all, Hochstetter belonged to two units which came from the police, and a unit that was formed after Hitler feared his own founded SA, dissolved, then turned into something more military-like after he became the new Reich's chancellor. The Waffen-SS had nothing to do with the Wehrmacht and its departments like Heer, Marine, and Luftwaffe…at least not in Burkhalter's eyes.
The Luftwaffe had been risen from the ashes of the former air force from the 'Great War' and belonged to the 'real' military. For Albert, Gestapo and SS were pseudo-armies, yet they controlled most fates within Germany. Even some places outside of the original German borders. But still, they were 'pseudo', and therefore not skilled like those who were schooled at a military academy. Burkhalter had come to regard the Waffen-SS as wanna-be-soldiers, and the SS in its function as police as 'dogs'; not 'wolves'. Those men were more incalculable and twisted then the 'real' soldiers who at least learned everything within the codex of 'pride and honor'. And concerning the 'black' SS: In earlier times policemen were called 'friends of the people', by not they were the citizens' nightmare – like blood hounds on the hunt.
Burkhalter regarded Hochstetter as one of the most devious 'dogs' he had ever met. Of course, it hadn't hindered him of using the man's skills if he needed them. But overall, the former major always had been a parvenu who thought of himself to be irreplaceable. Additional to this, Albert had always loathed the other man's choleric temperament and sullenness. Hell, there had been moments in which he really had despised the Gestapo- and SS- officer. But this was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.
He had known that the former major was a lunatic. Someone who got winded up in something without the inner ability to let it go. This was certainly a usable streak in Hochstetter's job, but not when it was overdone like it was here tonight. The attempt of murder was always a crime. Trying to kill a fellow officer, even if he belonged to another unit, was one of the most shameful deeds. The war had cost so many good and brave men's lives, there was really no need to lose even more of them. Especially because of insane bastards from their own lines.
And there was still this sergeant of the Totenkopf-SS Hogan told him of. A guard from the camp Hochstetter had lived in. The former major had killed him. This and his attempt of murdering Klink were enough deeds to give him a death penalty even without a trial. At least according to the current German 'justice'.
Hochstetter finally became aware of the other man's presence and slowly looked up. Burkhalter frowned. He thought he had seen the former SS-member at his worst at the People's Court, but now Wolfgang Hochstetter was pale, unshaved with a three-day old beard, and dirty. He obviously had lost a lot of weight. Bruises were blooming on his face, his lips were splintered, and his jaw appeared crooked. Burkhalter had a very good idea how the other man got those injuries. Hogan had given his tormentor a brutal payback while trying to protect Klink. The colonel's bruised knuckles had spoken volumes. Yet those minor wounds the ex-major sported, including the bloodied arm, wasn't the reason for the general's taking back. He saw Hochstetter's eyes, and they give him the chills. They were deep in their sockets, but as they looked up at the older man, they were filled with unholy flames – fire of madness.
"Ah, General Burkhalter. Such an honor," Hochstetter scoffed, a shadow of his former polite smile whenever involved with higher ranking officers, ghosted around his mouth.
The general took a deep breath, trying to ignore the nausea in his stomach. "Herr Hochstetter, you are accused of murder in one case and attempted murder in another."
The ex-major began to laugh. "Murder? I tried to eliminate a traitor and a master spy. In earlier days, I would have gotten a medal. Today, I am treated like a criminal."
Burkhalter breathed through his nose. 'Stay calm, Albert. Don't let him provoke you.'
"You are accused of escaping from a working camp, killing one of its guards in the process, and forcing access into a POW camp to attempt even more murders, one account with severe bodily harm. Do you have anything to say for your defense?"
"Defense?" The former SS-man chuckled darkly. "I don't need any defense. I did what I had to do."
"No one ordered you to attack Oberst Klink in his own quarters – trying to murder him," Burkhalter hissed.
Hochstetter rose and smirked at the older man. "Oh, there you are wrong, Herr General."
Albert cocked his head. "You got the order for this deed? From whom," he demanded.
"Not from a living person. My oath, my duty – they demanded this step from me. Klink is a traitor. Someone who sympathizes with the enemy. He and Hogan work hand in hand. I knew this for a long time, but no one listened to me. Clever like the two are, they turned the table and tried to make me look like the traitor, dishonor me. But I vowed to get Papa Bear one day all who are support him. And I finally did it."
Burkhalter didn't know if he should be furious or sad. "Your obsession turned you into a madman, Hochstetter," he said slowly. "Hogan isn't Papa Bear. He…"
"He rules Stalag 13, and I'm sure that Klink is his accessory. Like this, they did all the sabotages and…"
"Nonsense!" The general interrupted him sharply. "Klink is far too duteous. Too vain to allow someone else leading his camp. He…"
Hochstetter laughed shrill. "I heard it after I regained consciousness. Hogan ordered the guards and Feldwebels what to do, and they all obeyed. 'Jawohl, Colonel Hogan', 'Yes, Colonel', 'Okay, Colonel', and they ran like rabbits."
Burkhalter wasn't aware that he had balled his right hand into a fist. "Even if Hogan put himself into charge after you shot down Klink, he obviously gave the right orders. Otherwise the camp would have drowned in chaos – chaos you elicited."
"He is used to taking command, even with your guards," the ex-major snarled. "They obeyed far too easily. Without second thoughts. He IS Papa Bear and…"
"Hogan can't be Papa Bear like it was already stated at your trial!" Burkhalter snapped, feeling his self control slipping more and more. "There were several sabotage acts shortly after he was injured while being your 'guest'. He was unable to make a single step when Papa Bear took action again. There is no doubt that this Underground agent and Hogan are two different people. But you couldn't believe it. And because Klink did the only thing possible to save his senior POW from your insane clutches, you swore revenge."
He stopped as Hochstetter laughed again. "Those two robbed me of my post, my job, and my honor. They stopped me from doing my sworn duty, but not any longer." He stepped towards the bars and glanced at Burkhalter. "You said 'attempted' murder. So Klink is still alive?" The former Gestapo officer looked aside and murmured to himself, "Of course, he is still alive. Otherwise, Hogan would be here." He looked back at Burkhalter. "Do you know that he swore to kill me with his own bare hands if his beloved friend dies?" He chuckled. "I almost hope it comes to that. Then you would be forced to execute him, and my task would be complete."
"Your task. Don't you mean revenge?" The general asked, feeling sick by facing such paranoid hatred. This man was ready to die only to 'grant' his enemy an execution in return. Sweet Lord, how insane could someone become?
Hochstetter shook his head. "Task, revenge, both have become the same thing."
Burkhalter took a shot into the dark. "And you are not the only one who sees it this way. Who helped you to intrude Stalag 13? Von Neuhaus?"
The ex-major lifted his right index finger. "That is a nasty question, Herr General. You don't think I could manage something like this on my own?"
"Certainly not. The camp is strongly secured, and…"
"No, it's not. Klink has become too lazy. This happens to a man when he has only his love affair in mind and nothing else anymore."
"Love affair?" Burkhalter didn't trust his ears. Okay, he knew that Klink tried to win every pretty woman that came his way, but besides the fact that the general didn't think that any lady would be really smitten with Klink (except for his sister Gertrude), he also knew that the Oberst was far too conscientious to forget his duty. If there was one thing Klink took very seriously, it was Stalag 13.
Hochstetter grinned broadly, a kind of smirk that made Burkhalter's skin crawl. The man was insane, no doubt. Yet, he bended forward as the former SS-member waved at him to come closer. Looking towards the staircase, Hochstetter made certain that no one was there before he revealed, "Klink and Hogan. They're a couple."
Burkhalter had been rendered speechless only ten minutes ago because of the American's admission of sworn revenge against Hochstetter. But this here was really the last straw.
"What?" he asked, too thunderstruck to formulate another word.
Hochstetter nodded. "Yes, they are lovers," he whispered conspiratorially. "There is no doubt about it. They always were far too close, sticking together, throwing verbal balls at each other, tricking those who were on their track. That's not all, though. Schmidt is after Klink's secretary Hogan used to flirt with, and he hasn't become jealous like you would expect it. Why not? Because he has another lover: Klink. And Hogan's reaction as he found Klink in his quarters… He offered himself as a hostage, begging me to let Klink go and shielded him with his own body." He snorted. "He was beside himself and afterwards, as this Dummkopf Schultz shot me, he held Klink, whispered things in his ear, almost wept even. It was sickening."
Burkhalter felt nauseous, but not because of what he just heard. This 'statement' was the last proof that the former SS-man was completely mad. "The one who is sick is you, Hochstetter," he said quietly. "The two have become friends, and I will have to speak with them about it, but what you're hinting is insane."
"You haven't seen them," Hochstetter laughed evilly. "They are perverse pigs who…"
"ENOUGH!" the general boomed. "First you tortured and attempted to kill Hogan, then you try to murder Klink, and now you try to bring them into discredit because of your damn jealously!"
"I'm jealous?" The ex-major threw his head into the neck and chuckled with glee. "No, I'm not jealous; I see more clearly than ever before. Those two…"
"You have to pull everything into the dirt, because you never got the respect you wanted. You were so feared people changed sides of the street when you walked along it. You were possessed with your crazy ideas and abused your position to gain more power, trying to gain the highest regards of others you desperately wanted but never got. You have no friends, no…"
"Have you, Herr General?" Hochstetter interrupted him, completely calm now contraire to his behavior a few seconds earlier. "Do you have real friends? Someone who would risk his life for you not because of your uniform and rank, but because of your personality? Do you have someone who would defend you without the hidden agenda to gain advantages of it? Do you really think your 'dear friend' Himmler would move one finger if you weren't useful any longer to him? No, I think not."
His words had hit home. Even people who didn't know Burkhalter would have recognized it. The Austrian officer flinched like he had been slapped. The truth was a hard blow because… well… he didn't have any real friends.
Hochstetter saw the reaction, snorted and lowered his gaze before glanced with a new fierceness at the general. "But the fool Klink has someone like this. A friend who would fight for him 'til the last breath. He won the most dangerous man in all of Germany for himself, conspiring with him. And when the war is over, and if Klink should survive my 'souvenir', he will remain a free man, because whatever you say about Hogan, he never lets down his friends. Klink will have no trouble after the war, but you are going to have a lot of problems. You, a general of the Wehrmacht, responsible for POW camps of the Luftwaffe, and we both know that most of these camps are anything but good places. You allowed POWs be abused as slave workers in our factories and projects under construction against the Geneva Conventions. And you abused camps as test-areas for new weapons or wanted to locate war-crucial facilities nearby, using the POWs as living shields. What do you think the Allies are going to do with you, hm? Klink will walk away as a free man, because of his treason during the war, because he took one of the most dangerous saboteurs to his bed – or slipped into his."
For a long moment, Burkhalter only looked at the smaller man, chilled and feeling sick like rarely before. Yes, he had allowed those things. That POWs were abused as labor workers and that the POW camps declared taboo were used for test projects. Yes, mostly those things were ordered by Goering or Himmler, but – at least – Burkhalter made certain that the POWs weren't handled worse than animals like it was usual in camps which were ruled by the Totenkopf-SS. Yet Albert knew that this maybe wouldn't be enough to spare him court material should the Allies win.
So, in this detail Hochstetter was right.
But to hint that Klink – Casanova Klink – and Hogan, who flirted with every female that came into camp, were a couple spoke of the madness Hochstetter had fallen prey to.
"You have completely lost your mind," Burkhalter said quietly. "You are so full of hate that you're unable to see anything good in this world anymore. For your information, Heinrich and I have known each other for more than fifteen years. Yes, he would 'move a single finger' if I would be in need for help. And concerning Klink and Hogan, yes, they have become friends. That is nothing I'm going to deny, and I have to act on it even if I can understand that two officers of the same rank are able to ignore declared enmity because they live within a narrowed space for years. I can accept that they built acceptance and respect for each other that peaked into friendship in the end. But what you're insinuate is beneath even you. You are a shame for the Third Reich. Someone who has forfeit any rights of life."
Hochstetter chuckled, the malicious expression returning to his eyes. "Send Hogan down, then two birds are killed with one stone…literally."
Burkhalter pressed his lips into a thin line. The nerve. And what shocked him most, even now after their 'talk', Hochstetter was ready to sacrifice himself only to see his declared arch-enemy dead in the end. Repulsed, the staff officer turned away. "Guards!" He called.
Two men hastily came down the steps. "Yes, Herr General?"
"Secure this building. No one except Sergeant Schultz and I have access to it. Bring the ex-major something to drink and prepare his last meal in the morning. We are still civilian people." He looked back and straightened his shape. "Wolfgang Hochstetter, after escaping a high security camp to which you were sentenced to, killing a SS-sergeant, two attempts of murder, and many other crimes, in my position as General of the Wehrmacht and responsible for this POW camp's security you massively endangered, I sentence you to death. The firing squad will be set tomorrow. Ten o'clock. Would you like a priest?"
Hochstetter only bared his teeth in the parody of a smile. "I don't need a priest. I served my duty on Earth, may the devil use me after I entered his realm."
"When this war is over, there will be lines of men Satan has to take in…and he is not known to take mercy on anyone, not even on his servants on Earth," Burkhalter murmured, beneath his breath. "Try to make your peace with the Lord if you still have any beliefs or faith. We'll see you tomorrow on the hour of your death." Turning his back on Hochstetter, he climbed up the stairs. He needed some fresh air.
Stepping into the compound, he saw that the POWs had returned to their Barracks, but in every hut, the light was still on. Of course, the men had to strip and make themselves ready for bed. Burkhalter looked at his wrist watch. After ten o'clock. Deciding that he could make an exception on this messy evening, he granted the prisoners the longer illumination.
His gaze found the separate building that held Klink's quarters, and sighing, he headed towards it. Here too, the lights were still on as he entered the little wooden house. He stopped dead in his tracks. He had assumed a nasty picture, but this here was worse.
The dining table was tumbled over and broken, fragments of splintered china covered a part of the floor as well as food and wine. The chessboard was broken; the chess rooks lay scatted all around. And there was blood. So much blood. Splashes were on the wall, on the ground, a large spot was on the carpet. Burkhalter didn't need to be a genius to figure out that this was the place where Klink had lain – injured, hurting, deeply afraid with Death standing beside him…ready to take him away.
'What a mess,' the general thought, shaken.
He stepped further into the living room, carefully avoiding the fragments. His gaze found the broken dining table – legs partly splintered, one lay at the other side near the wall as if someone had hurled it there. The whole place spoke of the fierce combat of life and death that happened here.
Cold air streamed from the kitchen, and shivering in the low temperature, Burkhalter crossed the living area to look into the 'production-center' of every flat and house. The window was broken, and wind blew through it. The backdoor was shut, but as the general closed the distance to it and pulled at the doorknob, he saw the damages the men had done to it in their desperate attempt to gain access inside to aid their superiors, destroying the tiny fence of privacy.
He had been here in this building so often – welcomed guests of the Third Reich, celebrated little feasts, stayed here for some nights to avoid his wife at the large house he once had called 'home'. He had here his shares of drinks, musings, games of cards, and chess. Sometimes he had stayed here during crises and chaos… But never had it felt so strange to be in this house. So foreign and cold. As if a warm spirit that had lived here had fled or been removed.
Klink…
It had been Wilhelm Klink's very own persona that had given life to this small wooden building. This hut. It couldn't be called something else despite the private belongings, which were spread everywhere. It had always been a kind of warm oasis in the middle of nowhere, and the rising madness that had gripped all of Europe. But now, after the evilness had reached this small building, left terrible tracks of bloodshed, and while the Grim Reaper's shadow had been in these rooms, it woke a feeling of abandonment and creeping darkness. Burkhalter couldn't help it. A shiver ran down his spine.
He turned to leave the kitchen, a little room he had often seen LeBeau standing and cooking in, grumbling under his breath that he had to cook for 'the enemy', but being so incredibly proud when the guests praised his art. Albert's gaze found the kitchen table, and he remembered he had caught Schultz sitting there while the Frenchman cooked, happy to snatch some delicacies before they were served, while outside, an often invited Hogan was weaving his charming nets around the guests, and Klink boasted about this or this. Somehow, this all here had been something close to a little family. Raggle-taggle like patchwork, but it always had bared a hue of harmony.
Burkhalter knew that the brass in Berlin would see it completely different, but he hoped that this unruly comfortableness between Hogan's gang and the leading staff of camp would return. If Albert was truthful to himself, he would have admitted that he mostly looked forward to visiting Stalag 13 because of the odd easiness that lived here. Even with the fact that he regarded Klink as an idiot. An idiot he truly wanted to survive the grave wounds another German officer had inflicted on him out of insane revenge.
Sighing, the general returned into the living room. His eyes rushed towards the door of the guest room, and suddenly he knew that he couldn't sleep there. Even if the tracks of the brutal assault had been removed, he simply wouldn't find any rest here. Hochstetter's deed had left an icy breath. An evil shadow within this house. Germany may drown in chaos, the war may rage like mad, and everyone had to live with great restrictions. But a few things even shook an experienced staff officer like Burkhalter. He wouldn't be able to sleep under the same roof a cruel attempt of murder had happened only a few hours ago.
"Herr General?"
The voice startled him, and he quickly turned around; gasping. Langenscheidt stood at the entrance from the anteroom and looked sheepishly for a moment before he said, "I'm sorry if I startled you, sir."
Burkhalter waved it away. "It is no problem, Corporal. What is it?"
The young man stepped nearer. "We found a grey SS-uniform with the black collar of the Totenkopf-corps in one of the garbage cans beside the motor pool. It has the badges of a sergeant. And there was also a dagger full of dried blood…and this." He offered Burkhalter a dog-tag, who only looked at it briefly. He knew who it belonged to. He pressed his lips into a thin line.
"A shame Hochstetter brought more over our Executives." Burkhalter sighed. "And our uniforms?"
"One complete set is missing – including boots. We also examined the pistol he used to shoot the Kommandant: a Walther PPK."
Frowning, the general stared at him. "They are mainly used by the Gestapo. The Luftwaffe uses the Sauer 38H… just like Klink does. But here PPK is also present in this camp. Are one of the guards missing a weapon?"
"No, Herr General. We checked the weapon store and every guard reported to have his gun with him. Nothing is missing."
"So, Hochstetter brought the pistol with him as he entered Stalag 13. I'll call the leading officer in Weingut I. If the PPK belonged to the dead sergeant, we know where Hochstetter got the weapon. If not, it means that Hochstetter got the pistol after his escape and before he came to camp. In other words, Hogan seems to be right with his suspects that someone helped Hochstetter. Maybe von Neuhaus."
Langenscheidt nodded. "What now, Herr General?"
The Austrian staff officer pursed his lips and pondered his options for a moment before he grumbled. "I'll make the call first. Then…I think I have to have a meeting with Hogan." He cursed quietly beneath his breath. "I'm beginning to understand why Klink sometimes curses, sometimes praises this darned Ami. Hogan has a flair for secrets or puzzle out riddles others would need days for."
He went for the entrance and gestured towards the chaos in the living room. "I've seen enough. But if von Neuhaus really supported Hochstetter in this crime, I have to arrest and press charges against him. The Gestapo will investigate and certainly want to have a look at this mess here. Leave everything like it is; only barricade the broken window in the kitchen."
"Where are you going to sleep, Herr General?" Langenscheidt asked.
Burkhalter sighed. "I was reminded earlier that Klink lived the first few months in the back room of the Kommandantur until his quarters were built. Seeing that my own house has fallen prey to the last rocket test and the damn war even prevents the Hausener Hof and Hofbräu from being open anymore, I have no other choice than to sleep in the door next to the office. Arrange for a camp bed and some washing utensils in the little spittoon that is called a 'bathroom' to be there."
"Of course, Herr General," Langenscheidt nodded, and closed the door after they left Klink's private quarters. "Any more orders?"
"In a few minutes. After I make the call to Weingut I and have my meeting with Hogan. I have a feeling that I'll need to make a trip to Hammelburg with several guards to get the bastard who helped this maniac shoot down one of my leading officers."
*** HH ***
A quarter hour later, it was confirmed. The murdered Sergeant Kurt Vogel had a rifle and no pistol. And after the weapon store in M1 was checked, it became clear that no gun was missing. Lead by the Totenkopf-SS that was louche for its cruel sternness and merciless handling of prisoners, it was almost a miracle that Hochstetter had been able to escape at all. Even in the chaos during the fallen down, burning air fighter.
The call made another thing clear. Hochstetter had gotten the weapon sometime between his escape and the assault of Klink. That said weapon was a pistol that was mostly used by the Gestapo, increased the suspicions, Hogan had voiced.
Growling in his throat and balling his fist, Burkhalter rose from Klink's desk and left the Kommandantur, while two guards brought in a field bed they would place in the small back room of the office. The general's gaze fell on Barracks 2, where finally the lights were out. But an inner voice told him that he wouldn't find Hogan there. He would bet his last shirt that the American was still in the infirmary.
He was right, as he saw half a minute later. Hogan had washed, changed into the shirt one of the guards had brought him from the uniform store, his dress trousers, and his weathered bomber jacket. He sat on a chair beside Klink's bed lost in thought. His 'gang', how Burkhalter called the men of Hogan's inner circle, were nearby like a pack sheltering its leader or offering comfort. Maybe both.
Some of the guards and POWs who had donated blood at first, had already left the infirmary. Others sat on the beds still. On silent feet, not to disturb the men, Burkhalter crossed the room and met Hogan's asking glance.
"Still here as I see," the general murmured, and looked down on Klink. "Any changes?"
Hogan shook his head. "Nothing," he said quietly. "Dr. Birkhorn and his staff are resting in the next room."
"So you took over the watch for them." Burkhalter grimaced.
"Sort of," the colonel nodded.
Shaking his head, the German staff officer took a deep breath. Glancing at the Englishman, he said, "Corporal Newkirk, take Hogan's 'watch'. I have something to discuss with him." He made a gesture towards the waiting area. "Come with me."
Exchanging a short glance with his friends, Robert rose and followed the fat Austrian, who waited for him at the door to the waiting area, and closed it behind them after they entered.
"I spoke with Hochstetter," Burkhalter said straightforwardly. "He admitted that he acted out of lust for pure revenge, but stays silent about who helped him. Corporal Langenscheidt found a Totenkopf-SS uniform and one of our uniforms missing in the store. The pistol Hochstetter carried with him is a Walther PPK. We checked our weapon store here, and I also contacted the working camp Hochstetter was sentenced to. Neither there, nor here, a pistol was found missing. The sergeant he killed used a rifle."
"So he must have gotten the pistol after his escape and before he intruded Stalag 13," Hogan deducted.
"Correct." Burkhalter made a face. "I don't know if you are aware of the fact that this pistol is mainly used by the Gestapo and SS."
"So, maybe he really did get it from von Neuhaus," the American thought aloud.
"It is a possibility, yes. Hochstetter mentioned that young Schmidt has fallen for Fräulein Hilda, and that you're not jealous." He caught Hogan's perplexed gaze and rolled his eyes. "I know that you used to flirt with her too, Hogan. Don't even try to deny it."
Robert shrugged. "Yes, we flirted and joked, but…she's more like a sister for me than a future lover."
Burkhalter pursed his lips and cocked his head. "In other words, your interest lay with somebody else."
"Yeah, definitely… back home," Hogan lied easily before he frowned. "General, how did Hochstetter learn of our two lovebirds? They became closer after his trial."
"He must have learned it from someone who was here the whole time. Near enough Schmidt and this camp to become aware of the young couple's feelings," Burkhalter developed the thought further. The two opponent officers looked at each other, now building a team to bring down the man who helped Hochstetter severely wounding Wilhelm Klink.
Albert took a deep breath. "Von Neuhaus," he murmured. "He was after Fräulein Hilda himself, but she dumped him for Schmidt. Your friend Corporal LeBeau was only able to slip away from Stalag 13 to alert Klink concerning your arrest because von Neuhaus brought the young lady home and 'made a big show of it'…at least that's how Corporal Langenscheidt put it. In other words, von Neuhaus wanted Fräulein Hilda for himself, but she chose Schmidt. This could be one of the reasons von Neuhaus helped Hochstetter: Jealously."
"What advantage could he gain with supporting Hochstetter?" Hogan asked. "There's nothing in it for him besides misguided loyalty. This assault has nothing to do with Schmidt."
"And there you're wrong, Hogan," Burkhalter replied. "If von Neuhaus stole the PPK he gave Hochstetter, then it could mean that Schmidt doesn't run a tight ship. In the Gestapo and SS, like in the Wehrmacht, guns are carried by the person or locked up in the weapon store. Their count is controlled on a regular base. If a weapon is missing without being recognized, it shows that there is a certain laziness within the unit. And the CO is always responsible for the adherence to standards. Maybe von Neuhaus tried to make Schmidt look bad by giving Hochstetter a pistol from Hammelburg HQ, and the boy would be transferred, giving von Neuhaus his position."
Hogan grimaced. "It would fit to his character. The man's a swine." He caught Burkhalter's rebuking gaze and added with a sigh, "Like I said, von Neuhaus is also very loyal to Hochstetter. If we two are right concerning his supposed support, he killed two birds with one stone. He maybe has the chance to take over Schmidt's job and helped his former superior to get revenge."
Burkhalter nodded slowly. "After all I heard from your men and you concerning von Neuhaus' behavior towards Klink and that he even threatened him, it could have very well been the Leutnant who helped Hochstetter. But we need proof. Hochstetter won't give him away, yet we have to convict von Neuhaus before I can arrest him. Any suggestions?"
The senior POW officer grimaced. 'I ask myself who the general is here,' he thought sarcastically, as he realized that Burkhalter obviously had no idea what to do.
"If von Neuhaus smuggled Hochstetter into Stalag 13, he knew what the former major was up to, and certainly waits now for the camp to contact the Gestapo after the assault. Maybe we can make him nervous enough that he makes a mistake and reveals himself."
Rubbing his fat double-jaw, Burkhalter cocked his head. "What kind of mistake could he make? He could simply continue his job, pretend not to know anything, and…"
"If von Neuhaus learns that Hochstetter failed and was caught, there's a risk that Hochstetter will give him away to save his own skin. What would you do if you were in von Neuhaus' position?"
Burkhalter snorted. "I would never do such a thing in the first place…but pretending that I would be in his shoes, and being such a coward, I would try to flee."
"Exactly," Hogan nodded. "Send some of our guards to Hammelburg to observe HQ and the motor pool. As soon as von Neuhaus tries to drive away, you have him."
"And if he doesn't try to escape?" The general asked.
For a tiny moment, the ghost of a smirk played around Hogan's mouth. He was fully in his element when he could scheme. "Then you have to chase the badger out of his den. Someone in the camp makes a phony call after our guards take their positions at HQ. Let Schultz or Langenscheidt inform the Gestapo about a 'planned assault that failed' and that Hochstetter has been arrested. Maybe we can also mention that Hochstetter is ready to make some admissions if he'll be spared, and the Gestapo should send someone over who will take record. I bet my last shirt that von Neuhaus will try to take his heels afterwards. And then you'll have him. Caught red-handed by attempt of escape."
"What if we have Schmidt on the line and not von Neuhaus?" Burkhalter cut in for consideration.
"Easy; tell him the truth," Robert shrugged. "The man is trustworthy, and even I, as a POW, say this because the Oberleutnant is a fair and decent guy despite his damn black uniform. Tell him he should give von Neuhaus the fake news and send him to Stalag 13 to lead the investigation. Von Neuhaus will do everything but drive to our camp. He'll try to get away from Hammelburg as soon as possible…and then he's revealed himself."
For a few seconds, Burkhalter only stared at the American officer, then he began to chuckle. "I heard that General Biedenbender had problems shooting you down three years ago, because your schemes were so clever. No one knew what you would do next. I have to agree with him…even if he defected. You would make a damn good detective."
Hogan pulled a face, knowing the truth that Biedenbender hadn't defected, but was a POW in England. Yet this detail wasn't important at the moment. He looked straight at Burkhalter, realizing that the icy anger the general displayed last weekend had left the Austrian's eyes. Maybe what happened here this evening gave him second thoughts.
"Me – a detective?" Hogan shook his head. "Na, that's nothing for me. Spying on people's not my style," he lied straight through his teeth.
"But to solute riddles is one of your weaknesses…or a special streak, no doubt," Burkhalter said, not knowing how big Hogan's lie concerning the 'not spying' was. "I have to admit; your idea sounds good. I'll prepare everything." He frowned. "Von Neuhaus was here this evening. Do you know why?"
The American nodded. "Yes, he presented a destroyed radio transmitter to Colonel Klink and then to me, checking our reaction. He said it was the device the Gestapo retrieved from some Underground agents last Saturday. He wanted to check if we knew the transmitter."
Burkhalter frowned and shook his head. "Schmidt already checked everything, and then von Neuhaus does the same again, only in another way?"
Hogan crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Another evidence for his involvement in the insanity that happened here this evening, don't you agree?"
"Yes, I have to agree," Burkhalter groaned and turned to leave, but looked back once more. "Hogan, you're washed, yes, but you still look like hell. Got to bed."
The colonel's eyes widened. "But…"
"You heard me. One of the nurses or the other men can have watch over Klink's condition. Lay down and find some sleep. There is nothing more you can do at the moment."
"Sir, if you don't mind I rather…"
Again, Hogan was interrupted as Burkhalter became stern. "That's an order, Hogan. Otherwise, I will have you restricted to your Barracks."
"Not the cooler?" the colonel challenged.
The general looked at him as if the American had lost his mind. "It would be the same as if I would lock two rivaling lions in one room. I don't want more bloodshed tonight." He pointed a finger at the younger man. "Go to bed and find some sleep. If Klink's condition changes, you'll be informed. I give you my word. Tomorrow we'll speak about this crazy friendship you and Klink have formed."
He opened the door, threw a last look through the room at Klink, nodded at Dr. Birkhorn, who just came from the other room, and left.
TBC…
Yes, for once Hogan and Burkhalter are pulling at the same rope, so to say – to get the person behind the mess that happened. We all know that Burkhalter is an intelligent person, but he lacks of the flexibility in mind and heart to realize and to do what our dear Robert does.
In the next chapter the trap for von Neuhaus will be set up, but if the clever Leutnant tumbles in it has to be seen.
I hope, you liked the new chapter. It was difficult to write the scene between Burkhalter and Hochstetter, because despite their differences, they were / are on the same side. Yet the 'poison-dwarf's' last deed got the general down on the carpet again – especially as he entered Klink's quarters and sees first-hand the tracks this deadly combat left.
Please leave some reviews; you know that I LOVE them.
During the next week I publish the next chapter.
Have a good time until then,
Love
Yours Starflight
