Hi, my dear readers,
I hope, you loved that one of the bad guys got finally what he deserved. And the next one – and worst of the two – faces justice in this chapter.
I don't want to reveal too much, so off you go to Hammelburg.
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 67 – Justice, part 2
Hilda used Burkhalter's offer to get some fresh air to visit the infirmary. Because she wore thick winter-boots and not shoes for once, her steps were quiet as she tried to make as little noise as possible walking between the lined up beds to the folding screen, assuming it to be her boss's 'room'. She was right. There lay Klink…and Hogan.
Robert was deep asleep on the bed next to Klink's, and while Hilda found it very touching that the American had stayed here – watching over his German counterpart so to say – her real worry lay with the Oberst.
He was so pale and looked so small, clad in a hospital gown, ashen grey, motionless, and hooked up on an IV providing him with some blood. Bending over him, she softly lay a hand on his shoulder, hoping to get a reaction, but Klink remained absolutely still and dead to the world.
New tears formed in her eyes as she became fully aware that the man was, indeed, fighting death in a silent, invisible battle.
"Wake up, Herr Kommandant," she whispered. "Wake up and make a silly comment like you do so often. You are needed here – by all of us. What shall become of Stalag 13 if you're not here to lead it? What shall become of Robert and his gang? You know how easily he gets into trouble and needs you to throw a line he can pull himself out of. What about Schultz and Langenscheidt? Those two are forlorn without you. Even General Burkhalter needs you to get him down on the carpet when he gets off too much."
She heard the door to the backroom opening and as she looked up, she recognized Dr. Birkhorn, another man, and two nurses. Straightening her shape, she gave them a faltering smile, knowing that these people had fought for Klink's life a few hours ago. Then she saw Sergeant Wilson behind them – tired, pale, but determined.
"Fräulein Schneider?" Birkhorn whispered in consideration of Hogan being asleep. Offering her his hand, he greeted her, just like the others did. Wilson winked tiredly at her, and she answered with a short smile, then she focused on the most important matter at the moment.
"How is Oberst Klink doing?" she asked quietly.
Birkhorn sighed and gave her a short report. It was no wonder to him that she looked even sadder afterwards. As it seemed, there were a few people within these wires which liked the Oberst very much. Most of the guards respected him, and even the POWs seemed to harbor no hostile feelings for him regarding the fact that a dozen of them donated blood for him. This was really unique in a POW-camp. When Birkhorn remembered what he heard about other camps…
"Dr. Glockner will stay here for the next two days, and I look after Klink in the evening," Birkhorn explained. "Nurse Brigitte, Nurse Susanne, and I will return to Hammelburg in half an hour after I've spoken with General Burkhalter. Is he in the office?"
Hilda nodded. "I'll take you to him." She glanced at Dr. Glockner, a man in his middle fifties. "I'll show you the cantina and let Corporal Langenscheidt organize a field bed for you," she offered. "Do you want to stay in the infirmary, or shall Corporal Langenscheidt prepare a separate bed in one of the guard's dorms for you?"
The man shook his head. "I'll stay here in the backroom. Like this, I'm closer to the patient, can watch over him, and have a quiet place to work."
Hilda smiled shortly. "I'll take care that you get everything you need." She looked at the other surgeon and the two nurses. "I'll also make certain that you get breakfast. The same goes for you, Sergeant Wilson."
He smirked shortly at her. "Thanks, honey; you're the best."
She rolled her eyes. Americans.
A soft murmuring from the second bed made everybody turn around. Hogan moved in his sleep, sighed, and lay still again – deep in Morpheus' realm.
"He really is worried for the Oberst, isn't he?" Glockner asked.
"They became friends," Hilda whispered. "And Colonel Hogan always looks out for his friends."
The surgeon sighed. "At least not all humanity has been lost within this damn war."
Hilda made an affirming gesture and glanced back at Birkhorn. "I'll bring you to General Burkhalter, Doctor."
"Thank you," he nodded, and followed her.
*** HH *** HH ***
Schmidt was about to leave his office as the telephone rang. He looked at the mantlepiece clock and saw that it was a few minutes past nine o'clock. No more than an hour until Hochstetter would be executed.
Hurrying back to his desk, he accepted the call. It was the Gestapo-HQ in Berlin, informing him about the four SS-men's whereabouts who had served at the telephone exchange department at the People's Court. Writing down the data, Schmidt thanked the other man and hung up the phone. He decided to investigate later in the mysterious case of 'Neukölln', how he called it, and left the office.
He was still groggy from everything that happened last night. Sleep hadn't found him easily, despite the late hour he went to bed. His room had still been cold, and the oven couldn't chase away the damp iciness that clung to everything within his quarters. But that was not all that kept him awake.
To look into the muzzle of a pistol, knowing it would spit its deadly content at you within the next second, without any mercy, could stir up even the toughest man. Whenever Schmidt had closed his eyes, he saw von Neuhaus aiming at him – face grim and determined. The Leutnant would have killed him if it wouldn't have been for General Burkhalter. Schmidt couldn't deny it; the whole thing still troubled him.
Slipping behind the wheel of his staff car, he was about to start the motor as someone knocked on the window of the passenger side. Looking to the right, he recognized a tired Fuhrmann, who opened the door and peeked inside.
"Good morning, Herr Oberleutnant. Are you driving to Stalag 13?"
"Yes," Schmidt answered, surprised.
"Do you mind if I accompany you? Four eyes see more than two when you examine the crime scene."
Horst had to chuckle. "And you aren't the tiniest bit curious about the POW-camp whose occupants seemed to be present even if they aren't?"
Fuhrmann grinned at him. "I am curious about this camp I never got a chance to visit. Everything I always heard since I was transferred to Hammelburg are the names 'Klink' and 'Hogan'. Those two seemed to be everywhere – even if the American can't leave the camp."
"At least that's what we're told," Schmidt smirked, then he turned serious. "And what about Hochstetter?"
The older man snorted. "I really want to be convinced that this madman meets his maker today. HQ was a living hell the time he ruled it. No one was safe from his choleric temper and paranoia, not to speak of his arbitrary."
Schmidt understood his sergeant and waved him to sit down. "Come in."
Fuhrmann smiled at him, slipped into the car, and closed the door. "Had you had breakfast, sir?"
A short laughter escaped Horst. "Now you sound like my father."
"Someone has to look out for you boys. Duty is important, but a decent meal is important, too. It increases the strength in body and mind, you know."
Schmidt started the motor and chuckled with warmth rising in him. "I'm sure they have something to eat for us at Stalag 13…if we're hungry afterwards, at least."
*** HH *** HH ***
Robert Hogan was still deep asleep as someone gently shook him, then a bit stronger. "Colonel?"
He grumbled. Who was disturbing him? Couldn't they see that he was asleep – and tired?
Again he was shook, and the voice became more familiar. "Colonel Hogan, wake up, sir."
Kinch!
Forcing his eyes open, Robert looked for a moment disoriented into the light that streamed through nearby windows. This here wasn't his quarters. No doubt about it. Turning his head, he looked up straight at his second in command and friend, who bent over him; face soft.
"I'm sorry to wake you, Colonel, but I thought you wanted to be present when Hochstetter gets what he deserves."
Hochstetter? What he deserved? Hochstetter was sentenced to a working camp and…
And the memories crashed down on Hogan like a tidal wave. With a muffled yelp, he sat up, which forced Kinchloe to straighten up quickly to prevent a collusion.
"What…what's going on?" Robert asked, mouth dry from sleep and too many emotions. "Will?" He croaked, looking to the bed beside him where he saw Klink laying.
"He's still out cold, but his pulse and heart beat have increased a little bit. At least that's what Wilson told me," Kinch said, while pulling the blanket away from his friend and superior. "Burkhalter sentenced Hochstetter to death, and the firing squad outside is prepared. I thought you'd want to be there when…"
THAT caught Hogan completely. Swinging his legs over the bed's edge, he bent down to get his shoes.
"Damn right I want to be there!" he growled, adrenaline racing through his body again. "I have to tell him something before he is sent to the devil. How late is it?"
"Almost ten o'clock. The daily routine is completely set out for once – even roll call didn't happen today," Kinch answered. He got Hogan's leather jacket and offered it to him, but out of nowhere, Robert hesitated. His gaze wandered back to Klink.
"He shouldn't be alone…but with someone he knows and trusts. A friend's presence helps him fight the Grim Reaper and…"
"Just go, Robert. I'll stay with him."
Hilda rounded the folding screen and gave him a short, watery smile. She looked pale, and her eyes were reddened – the certain sign that she had wept. Of course, Hogan knew that she liked Klink like an uncle.
"Are you okay?" he asked, slipping into his jacket.
"Sort of," she answered, with a shrug. She closed the distance to him and lay a hand on his arm. "Go, Robert. I'll remain here. I don't want to see the execution even if Hochstetter has deserved it. To watch someone getting killed was never something for me."
Hogan nodded in understanding, gave her a quick peck on the cheek – "Thank you, Sweetie," – and hurried towards the door, Kinch on his heels.
Outside the whole compound was crowded. Every POW seemed to be there as well as all guards. Shouts of insults and anger sounded through the air, and Hogan had to push himself through the crowd to get closer to the place where the firing squad would happen.
Kinch gained attention for Hogan and by ordering, "Make room! Out of our away!" His strong voice had its effects. Yet Hogan needed a minute to get through the crowd. He saw six grim Luftwaffe guards who stood there, rifles beside them and ready. Hochstetter stood in front of the wires with his back towards the woods, hands handcuffed, bruised face frozen in a grimace, eyes burning with fierce hate and defiance.
Their eyes met, and Hochstetter spat something that got lost in the noises.
Hogan looked to his right and recognized Burkhalter standing there with Schultz, Schmidt, and an SS-sergeant of Schultz's age. With determined steps, he closed the distance to the Germans, greeting them with a simple, "Good morning, Gentlemen." Then he glanced firmly at Burkhalter. "General, I want to speak with Hochstetter one last time."
Burkhalter lifted both brows. "This is highly uncommon, Hogan. And given the fact that you're a POW, it's even against protocol."
The colonel took a deep breath. "After all he did to me – and to Oberst Klink – I think I have a right to have a last word with him. It won't last long."
Albert watched the American closely. Hogan was calm. Eerily calm. But the fire in his eyes showed him that the senior POW officer was far away from having overcome the last encounter. Technically seen, Hogan was right. After what he had endured in Hochstetter's sick clutches and after the fight of life-and-death yesterday evening, Burkhalter could understand that the American colonel wanted to speak with Hochstetter. Yet protocol forbid something like this.
"It couldn't harm," Schmidt said quietly, knowing what emotional turmoil had to be inside of Hogan's mind and soul. The man was pale and bruised, but his stance and voice spoke of unwavering strength.
Burkhalter glanced at him, then at Hogan, who returned his look with hard determination, and sighed finally. Why not, for God's sake. This here was a matter of justice, and how a tiny voice in his head whispered from the pure human side, Hogan had indeed a right to give some last words to his tormentor and possible killer of his friend.
"Alright," he grumbled, but held Hogan back as the younger man was about to storm forwards. "Not so quick, Colonel." He waved a guard. "Check him if he has a weapon."
Robert gritted his teeth, but spread his arms obediently as the guard searched his pockets and checked his shirt and trousers. "Klink is still alive," Hogan said. "I have no reason to fulfill my oath."
"I don't take any risk with you," Burkhalter replied. "We both know how stubborn you are and how quickly you create endless tricks to gain your goal in the end. I don't want to see you standing there, too." He nodded into the direction of Hochstetter.
The guard stepped back. "He is clean, sir."
"And this without morning toilette," Hogan commented wryly, gave Burkhalter a last asking glance, and as the general nodded, he turned towards Hochstetter.
The former major smiled with mockery and hate at him, while Hogan closed the distance to the smaller man with strong steps. The POWs and guards quietened down until nothing else was to hear than the wind in the leafless branches of nearby trees on the other side of the wires and the crunching of the crusty snow beneath Hogan's shoes. Everyone knew that this was the last minute of a showdown that had grown over the years and had peaked into the assault the evening prior. The meaning of the two men's last meeting was like an impact for everyone within Stalag 13, independent of heritage and uniform.
Half a meter away from Hochstetter Hogan stopped, his face like cast into stone.
Hochstetter looked him up and down. Hogan's left cheek showed a bruise, and he wore his dress trousers, but his old leather bomber jacket and…was that a shirt of the Luftwaffe? Yes, without any badges, but it indeed was a German shirt. Of course. His own was smeared with Klink's blood.
Apropos, what meant the American's presence here? Was Klink dead, and Hogan was about to fulfill his promise? On the other hand, the colonel had been searched thoroughly through, therefore he couldn't have a weapon hidden somewhere. Or did he? With this damn bastard, anything was possible.
For a long moment, the two arch enemies only glared at each other, and Hogan saw the purple bruises on the ex-major's face, the dried blood on his right upper arm, and the split lips, yet Hochstetter's gaze blazed with an unholy fire as he asked, "Is he dead?"
The sickening hope in those words would have awoken Hogan's wrath if he hadn't be this icily calm. Revenge was his now, and a cold smile began to spread over his face. "No, Klink isn't dead. And the doctors are confident that he'll make it." No, the latter wasn't certain, but Hochstetter didn't know that. Hogan didn't begrudge him even the tiniest triumph.
"A shame," Hochstetter replied dryly, not caring for his approaching death. "I thought that I got at least him – and maybe you, too. If he had died until now, you would come to keep your promise. And we both know what this would mean for you."
A dangerous chuckle escaped Hogan. "No chance, Hochstetter. General Burkhalter will have no reason to shoot me. You failed…like all the times before." He lowered his voice. "Wilhelm will survive, just like I do. And when the war is over, he and I will walk this Earth freely and try to close the gaping wounds you and your kind inflicted on countries, homes, and people while you're rotting away in your grave. You lost, Hochstetter. Despite the fact that you even won in a certain way."
The former major's face had flushed in fury, yet he stayed controlled for once. "What do you mean?" he hissed, feeling the almost overwhelming urge to strangle the American if it wouldn't be for his handcuffed hands.
A triumphal smile broadened slowly on Hogan's face. This was the moment he had waited for since he met the SS-man for the first time and heard his accusations. He had dreamed of getting this one chance, and he felt deep satisfaction as he bent forwards to whisper, "You were right all the time, Hochstetter. I AM Papa Bear. But this knowledge comes too late. It even drives you into your grave, because no one ever believed you until you became insane what ends now in your death." He smiled even more with victory in his eyes. "I won."
Robert straightened his shape and looked down on the smaller man. Shock was written all over Hochstetter's face. An absolute thunderstruck expression that spoke of realization and utter disbelief.
Hogan laughed coldly before he mockingly saluted. "Go to hell, Hochstetter. Maybe in Satan's realm you'll go through the same pain and anguish you forced upon other people." With those words, he turned brusquely around and walked away.
Hochstetter could only stare at Hogan's back, while the colonel moved back towards the crowd and left him to death. He had been right – the whole time? Hogan was indeed Papa Bear? He had just admitted it?
Hochstetter felt madness overwhelming him with the knowledge that he had been right, but no one would learn about it anymore. No one would realize that his assumptions had been correct and that Hogan was the mastermind of the most uncommon espionage ring in Germany. That the 'oversized boy' was one of the most dangerous enemies behind the German borders, hiding in a POW-camp that was in truth the basis for all his sabotages and spy businesses.
Hogan had tricked everyone – including the German justice and generals. Clever he had woven his web around them with half-truths and incredible acting skills, supported by the traitor Klink. And because of this, he – Wolfgang Hochstetter – had been sentenced to the hell of a working camp. Now he even faced the firing squad.
Hogan's words hit home: The American and his German lover would be free after the war, while he was dead. Hogan had, indeed, won.
Irrational laughter rose in him, found its way into his throat, and broke out. His own ears rang because of the shrill sounds his throat and tongue were making, while he felt wild triumph. He. Had. Been. Right. And it was for no use anymore. He would take the truth with him to his grave. His laughter mixed with screeches of victory and dread – mirroring his bursting insanity.
Hogan heard beginning laughter behind him that quickly became louder and louder, filled with screeches which spoke of new awoken madness that ruled the former major for weeks now. He sounded triumphal, but also hilarious mixed with hate and fear.
The colonel bypassed Burkhalter and the others without sparing them a glance. He didn't look back once as he headed towards the infirmary, pushing through the crowd. He didn't even look back as commands drowned out the shrieks and shots ripped through the air. The lunatic laughter died together with the former Gestapo- and SS-major, making room for merciful silence.
Robert entered the infirmary and felt his hands beginning to shake.
It was over.
Finally!
The danger Hochstetter always had represented was over – and with it, the risk for Wilhelm and him as well. He didn't have a bad conscience that the ex-major had been sentenced wrongfully… At least concerning his accusations towards Hogan. Hochstetter had brought so much sorrow and grief above other people and had harmed them and their families without second thoughts. He even had relished in the anguish of others. Robert remembered very well the day and night he had been held captive within Gestapo-HQ, tortured like in the middle ages with Hochstetter smiling at him. And now the former major had even tried to kill Wilhelm, shooting him down and hoping that the Oberst's death would lead to Hogan's demise, too.
No, Wolfgang Hochstetter had earned the death penalty a dozen times over.
Hilda, who sat on the visitor chair beside Klink's bed, looked up; pale and in clear distress. "It's done?" she asked quietly, and Robert nodded.
"He's dead." He stopped at the other side of the bed, lay a hand on Will's shoulder, and felt his suddenly flipping nerves calming down again in the presence of the man who meant the world to him. He wasn't aware how warm and lovingly his gaze became as he glanced down on his phoenix.
"It's over, Will. Hochstetter's dead. He'll never harm you again – or me," he said gently. "Now it's up to you to gain another victory over the 'poison gnome'. Don't give up, and come back to us. We need you." He took a deep breath; his voice breaking as tears flooded his eyes. "I need you."
With big eyes, Hilda looked at him. Yes, those two had become friends – close friends. But the expression on Robert's face, the love and tears in his eyes, his words… If she wouldn't know of him flirting around whenever he got the chance, she would think that he had feelings for his German counterpart – feelings which bypassed those of friendship.
The door to the backroom opened, and Dr. Glockner stepped in. Birkhorn and the two nurses had driven away an hour ago. Nodding towards the door, he murmured, "It's done?"
Hogan, who had quickly stepped back from the bed, nodded; blinking the rising tears away. "Yes, the Kommandant's possible murderer is dead."
The surgeon grimaced and checked Klink's vitals. "I'm no friend of executions."
'And yet you certainly looked away as your Jewish neighbors and those people who didn't believe Hitler's twisted point of views were arrested or brought away,' Hogan thought, but kept silent; not knowing how brutal the hunt on said people had been in Hammelburg – brutal enough to have even risen protests from the other citizen. It had been mostly done by SS-men who didn't belong to the town, yet many of the aldermen had known before it happened and even made certain that the Pogrom would be done when the children were at school and therefore wouldn't witness what was done to neighbors, friends, etc. Many people within Germany were to blame for looking away or even badger their Jewish neighbors, and Hammelburg was no exception.
Hilda had to agree with Glockner; she also loathed executions. Remaining calm, she gave both men a short smile. "I have to return to the office. Hor…I mean Oberleutnant Schmidt and General Burkhalter certainly will return to the Kommandantur within the next few minutes."
Robert looked at her. "Since when did Schmidt get here?"
"He came approximately twenty minutes before…the firing squad happened. He stayed with the general during that time, and both cleared the mess with the letter I got yesterday."
"What letter?" Hogan asked, a little bit alarmed.
Hilda sighed and told him the story of the faked recruiting order. Robert gaped at her, while Dr. Glockner shook his head, swearing beneath his breath something Hogan didn't need to translate.
"Well, and now Horst and General Burkhalter have taken care of the whole thing. As far as I understood it, Horst has ordered Klausner's arresting because his 'favor' had a part in the assault against an colonel of the Luftwaffe."
"I don't think that man was aware of the real background he did for von Neuhaus," Robert mused, and Hilda shrugged.
"Certainly not, but General Burkhalter has ordered a detailed investigation of Klausner's involvement in Hochstetter's assault. Even if the man didn't know anything, the whole thing will certainly teach him a lesson."
"Corruption wherever you look," Dr. Glockner grumbled before he returned to the backroom. Hilda and Robert looked in the direction he had gone, then the colonel sighed deeply and sat down in the visitor chair again.
Klink's secretary watched him closely. "Don't you think you should eat something…and shave?"
He was lost in thoughts, but glanced up at her now. "What?" He saw her lifting a brow, realized what she suggested, and shook his head. "No, I'm not hungry and…"
"You look like hell, and yes, you are hungry. You only don't know it. I'll bring you something. And concerning these beard stubbles, go shave. I'm sure General Burkhalter will speak with you soon with everything that happened yesterday, and when he sees you like this, his bad mood will fall into the deepest cellar. We both don't want this to happen, don't you think so?"
Perplexed, Hogan stared at her. Never before had he heard her speaking with him like this. She sounded…firm. "As you wish, Mom," he said, rising again.
Hilda giggled and shoved him playfully against the shoulder. "Just go, you rogue. Don't forget you're the senior POW officer of Stalag 13. What shall Kommandant Klink think if you walk around like a lumberjack?"
Hogan rolled his eyes and sighed. "You're right. Could you ask one of my men to bring my shaving things over to the infirmary when you're on your way back to the Kommandantur?"
Hilda stemmed her hands into her waist. "Do you want to move in here, or what?"
"As long as Will hasn't wake up, I'll stay here. You know the old saying; the Grim Reaper comes sooner to the lonely people?"
The young woman cocked her head, feeling herself melt. "Robby, that is a fairytale. Do you really think Oberst Klink will come around sooner when you're staying here, holding his hand?"
He lowered his head. "It's silly, isn't it? But I…I do believe it, yes."
She took a deep breath and smiled sadly at him. "Oh Robert, you two really have grown close together, haven't you?" She watched him nodding and lay a hand on his arm. "He'll get through it, be sure of it. If not for himself, then for us here…for you. He jumped over his own shadow so often within the last few weeks and changed from a rather cowardly man into a fighter to keep you safe. I think he even keeps on battling only to return to you." She caught his alerted gaze at those words, what woke her assumption even more. Should those two really… She bit her lips. "Robert, how close are you two?"
She saw a faint blushing creeping into his pale cheeks and closed her eyes in realization. So, her crazy idea was true. The two had developed feelings for each other, which were forbidden, but existed everywhere. Who had ever thought that Casanova Hogan and Casanova Klink had a weak spot for the same gender – or was it only for each other? As odd as it sounded, the latter made sense regarding the fact that they danced around each other for almost three years now, especially within the last weeks.
As she looked up at him again, she saw the tension and alarm on his face. Well, this was the last proof. "How long has this gone on now?"
He gulped, knowing that any denial was for naught. She knew him too well. "After he got me out of the Gestapo-HQ… As he nursed me back to health, I began to understand what he feels for me and…" He lowered his gaze. "We got together afterwards." He glanced up again. "Hilda, I never wanted to hurt you, but Will is…"
She lifted both hands. "It's all right, Robert. We spoke about the change in our relationship – if we had one to begin with – and we both agreed that our friendship values more than a few more flirts. You know that I feel drawn to Horst and…" She laughed quietly, shaking her head in disbelief. "As you admitted that you have found someone else, someone who is very important for you, I thought about the other women who came to Stalag 13, or one of the Underground agents I know you work with. It never occurred to me that in truth you meant him." She gestured towards Klink, and snorted in soft amusement.
"You're…okay with it?" Hogan asked carefully, knowing that most people wouldn't understand his love for a man. Hell, most would turn their backs on him or report him to the police. But as he looked at Hilda, he saw her gentle smile and the warmth in her eyes.
"Love doesn't ask, love finds and takes you. You have no chance to escape it the moment it touches you. First you ignore it, try to tell yourself that it's silly…but it's there – in the beginning silent and barely recognizable. And then it grows until you think you'll burst because of it." She lifted her hand and gently cupped his left cheek, carefully avoiding the bruise there. "Love is a gift from the Lord. Who are we to think we can reject His gift or justify it? If you love Oberst Klink, then stay with him and cherish him – cherish this love, because real love isn't something you receive any day. When I think back to what he did for you, I'm sure his feelings for you are equally strong. Enjoy what you two found." Her smile grew. "Just try to hide it better," she whispered. Then she stepped on the tip of her toes and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. "Look after yourself and him. I wish you two all the happiness in the world. God alone knows that happiness has become rare now."
She winked at him, turned, and walked towards the entrance, leaving a completely thunderstruck Hogan. Before she opened the door, she glanced back one last time. "And Robby?"
He looked questioningly at her.
"Go shave."
He chuckled and began to grin broadly, while he flipped her a sloppy salute. Sweet Lord, what a woman. If he wouldn't love Will so much, he would try to win her for himself. 'Well, this certainly would give a lot of trouble with a certain SS-Lieutenant, and you really don't need that,' he joked inwardly, while he watched Hilda leaving. He rubbed his jaw and frowned. Yes, she was right. He really needed to shave.
*** HH *** HH ***
Oberleutnant Schmidt looked around at the mess which once was Oberst Klink's quarters. The blood on the carpet and the wall had dried by now and turned into an ugly brownish red. The destroyed furniture, the spread food and remnants of wine, the scattered chess rooks – this all spoke of the brutal combat that had taken place here eighteen hours ago.
Fuhrmann stood beside him and whistled quietly. "This had been a fight of life or death," he said quietly. "And seeing how crazy Hochstetter has become since the last time I met him, I'm surprised that the American colonel stood a chance at all."
"Hogan is stronger than you may think," Schmidt murmured.
"Sure, he seems to be well trained despite the injuries he got two months ago, but madness vests strength beyond imagination. Hochstetter certainly was unbridled and gave into all his hate and rage as he fought with the colonel." The SS-sergeant carefully pushed the splintered dining table aside, saw that a leg was missing, and spied it at the other end of the room. "This is oak. Can you imagine the strength needed to break it? The two must have crashed on it at full tilt."
Schmidt nodded. "Yes, and Klink lay over there." He pointed at the large dried spot of blood on the carpet. "Gravely injured, deep in pain, and had to watch Hogan fight for both of their lives. It must have been hell for him; especially as Hochstetter got hold of the gun and was about to fire at Hogan. If it wouldn't have been for Schultz…" He shook his head.
Fuhrmann pursed his lips. "The two officers have become friends, eh?"
Horst shrugged. "Certainly. You were on home leave when Hochstetter practically kidnapped Hogan and brought him to our HQ, torturing him there. You should have seen Klink. He knocked Hochstetter out and reanimated Hogan afterwards, cradled him in his arms like a younger brother. Hogan stayed for more than four weeks in Klink's quarters while he healed, and now this here…" He took a deep breath.
"General Burkhalter said Hogan stormed into Klink's quarters despite his knowledge that Hochstetter was armed and he was not. Sergeant Schultz also mentioned that Hogan didn't hesitate even a second. This was more or less suicide, yet he went in here without a second thought, risking his life for the Oberst. This definitely tells me enough," Fuhrmann murmured. "I only ask myself what the Brass is going to say concerning those two."
Schmidt snorted. "General Burkhalter certainly will have a lot to say about it – and I think the Brass of the Allies too, as soon as they learn about it." He slowly walked deeper into the room. "On the other hand, friendship is no crime – even if it is really uncommon that two officers of different sides, official enemies even, develop friendship."
"Even in the most darkest times, a few lights of hope shine where humanity remains," the SS-sergeant whispered. "To say the truth, I can't damn the two colonels. They live here within this camp for years now, side by side; interact with each other day by day. It's no wonder that they overcame enmity and turned into friends. As long as they don't forget which side they're on, no harm is done."
Schmidt nodded, frowning inwardly. 'And this is exactly what I doubt now,' he thought. 'If Hogan is indeed Papa Bear, and Klink knows this, then he supports and covers for Hogan. And this would mean that he has switched sides.' His glance found the paintings om the wall. Against usual habit within Germany, no picture of the Führer was among them. 'Unless Klink was never a proponent of Hitler and his regards, then he has been on the sides of those who are against the Führer from the beginning and avoided a concentration camp by hiding his true point of views.'
He sighed. No matter how he looked at it, if Hogan was Papa Bear and Klink knew this, then the Oberst was a traitor. Yet this prospect didn't awake any wish in Horst to arrest the two officers. Rather the opposite. If he should find out that his assumptions were correct, he rather would admire the bravery those two displayed.
"What do you think the Ami told Hochstetter?" Fuhrmann tore him out of his thoughts. "Hochstetter really lost it afterwards."
Schmidt rubbed his neck. "I have no clue, but it must has been something with a big impact." He bit his lips. "But whatever it had been, it was revenge. And when I remember Hogan's face and eyes, I really don't want to steer this icy fury on my person. I never thought that he could be that dangerous."
"Revenge – for Klink?"
"For Klink and himself. You should have seen what he was put through as he was in the cellars of our HQ. Hell, I felt thrown into the middle ages. Hochstetter was about to brand him – and then he tried to drown him." He shook his head. "I'm glad that it's all over."
He closed the distance to the kitchen and peeked into the small room for a moment. The window was barricaded with wooden planks, and the door was barred with two further planks, which were nailed against the doorframes. Fragments of glass lay on the floor and on the table, speaking of the force the guards had broken through to get to their superior.
"I've seen enough," he murmured. "I'll speak with Colonel Hogan about the course of action within these walls. He is the only witness of it until Oberst Klink wakes up."
"If he wakes up," Fuhrmann said quietly, and Schmidt gave him a short glance.
"Don't speak like that."
The sergeant shrugged. "I'm sorry, sir, but it's a possibility we have to consider."
Horst only grimaced and left the building, Fuhrmann following him.
*** HH ***
"So, London sends the medicine without any protest?" Hogan asked, while he shaved in the small bathroom of the infirmary.
"Yes, we have to wait for between eleven and twelve o'clock tonight," Kinchloe said. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Newkirk, who had come with him, stood in the threshold. "General Butler isn't in London anymore. He took over command of one of our divisions in the southwest of Germany," James completed his report.
Hogan wiped the rest of the shaving foam away with a towel before he gripped for his tooth brush. "I knew it was only a matter of time until Alex would move into action. He isn't exactly the desk jockey, but rather someone who takes matters into his own hands."
"Something you two have in common," Kinch grinned.
Shrugging, Hogan put some toothpaste on the brush. "The battles are done at the front; not at a desk." He began to clean his teeth, while Newkirk and Kinch exchanged a glance. Then James gave into his curiosity.
"Keep an eye on the door to the backroom," he said quietly to Peter, who nodded and turned around. Kinch waited until his superior and friend was done before he murmured, "Colonel, may we know what you told Hochstetter? I mean, we all knew that he was crazy, but after you confronted him, he really turned insane."
Hogan smirked grimly. "I told him the truth."
"WHAT?" Both men gasped with big eyes.
Turning towards them, Robert repeated, "I told him the truth – that I'm Papa Bear and that he was right all along. But that finally confirmed knowledge didn't help him anymore. He forfeited everything and would die, while Wilhelm and I will be free after the war, living our lives happily, so to say."
Kinchloe and Newkirk stared at him and began to chuckle. "Now that is what I call revenge," James grinned.
"I didn't know that you could be that evil, Gov'nor," Newkirk added, winking at him.
"He deserved it," Hogan grumbled, and slipped back into his bomber jacket. "Those last hours were pure hell, and Will still isn't out of danger." He shook his head. "I'm getting nausea when I think of the possibility that he could die."
"He'll survive," Kinch tried to comfort him. "If not for himself, then for you."
A sad smile played around Hogan's mouth. "Hilda said something likewise." He grimaced. "She found out about Klink and me, and…" He shrugged. "She's okay with it."
"Everyone who watched you and Klink within the last almost three years would think it all right that you two got together. It was a logical step, so to say," Kinchloe said sincerely.
"Somehow it was inevitable," Hogan nodded. "Yet I have to be more careful. You figured it out, Hilda became aware of it. Burkhalter wants to speak with me about my friendship with Klink. If he realizes the truth of our relationship, I can make my testament. I'm sure that he isn't as tolerant like you or Hilda."
"Your acting skills will convince him like many times before," James assured him. "And he certainly is more interested in details concerning this mess yesterday evening than you and Klink having becoming friends."
Hogan returned to the sickroom and sighed deeply. "Yeah, and I don't look forward to it. It certainly went around that I speak German well enough to call the guards and get them to listen to me."
"Concerning this topic, Colonel, Peter here has something to confess." Kinch glanced at Newkirk, who shoveled nervously with his feet.
Alarmed, Hogan looked at the English flyer. "What is it?"
Newkirk pressed his lips into a thin line before he admitted, "The guards know that I speak German, too." As he saw the questioning frown on his superior's face, he explained, "As you ordered me to call Dr. Birkhorn, I went to Klink's office, and because the guards there were completely at loss what to do, I called the hospital – ordering the lady from the telephone exchange to link me with Dr. Birkhorn. And because she wouldn't had done it if I had spoken English, I addressed her in German." He sighed. "You should have seen the guards' faces. They gaped at me like oxen when a thunderstorm comes."
Hogan groaned and rubbed his face. "Well, then we both gave us away. If Burkhalter learns of it, we're really under pressure for failing to offer an explanation. Klink could have taught me some German, okay, but in your case…"
"I learned it at school," Newkirk shrugged. "Shall Burkhalter prove the opposite."
A snort escaped Robert. "Let's hope that he buys this story, and…"
"Colonel Hogan?" Schultz stepped into the infirmary. "General Burkhalter sent me. He expects you in the Kommandantur at once."
"Here we go," Hogan sighed. He hesitated and looked up at the large Bavarian. "I want to apologize to you for my lack of manners, Schultz."
"How come?" The Sergeant of the Guards asked, confused.
"You saved my life yesterday evening, and I haven't even thanked you for it."
Schultz waved it off. "It's all right, Colonel Hogan. So much happened at once and…" He stopped as Hogan closed the distance to him and offered him his hand.
"Yet this is something I should have done hours ago." He took a deep breath and glanced honestly at the older man while he squeezed Schultz's fingers with his own. "Thank you for your quick reaction and your help. I would be dead now if it wouldn't have been for you. Hell, I thought everything was over as I heard the shot, thinking for a few seconds the bullet had hit me. If you would have come only a moment later, a bullet would be stuck in my brain now. I'm in your debt, Hans. If there's ever something you need help with, let me know."
Schultz flushed a little bit before he leaned the rifle against the next bed and lay his free hand on Hogan's shoulder. "It's all right, son. You know how much I like you and your friends. I'm here for protection, and that goes not only for our guards, but also for you and the others. And who threatens my friends will have to answer to me… I'm only sorry that I knocked out Hochstetter that fast. I would have loved to given him a more painful payback, but at least I could prevent him from killing you." He squeezed the colonel's shoulder before he let go of him and lowered his face. "Regrettably, I could not hinder him of injuring the Herr Kommandant."
"Even I wasn't able to protect Will," Hogan said quietly. "No one could assume that Hochstetter would intrude Stalag 13…that he even got help to do so."
"Yes," Schultz nodded. "At least he and von Neuhaus got what they deserved."
"What happened last night, Schultzie?" Kinch asked. "Langenscheidt gave us a shorten vision, but…"
Hans' eyes widened. "Not now, boys, the Austrian Big Shot waits for Colonel Hogan. I tell you all later of what happened last night." He gestured towards the entrance. "After you, Colonel."
Grimacing, Hogan walked to the door with Schultz on his heels. "Stay here with Klink. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Yes, Colonel." James nodded.
"Schultzie?" Newkirk called and lifted the rifle. "Have you forgot something?"
With a frustrated groan, the sergeant took the gun. "Why do I always forget this stupid thing?"
"Because you don't like to have it at all?" Kinch offered, and the large Bavarian managed a short smile.
"You're right, Sergeant Kinchloe. But protocol is protocol…even if I don't like it."
He and Hogan left the infirmary, and Robert didn't look forward to the upcoming talk he had with Burkhalter.
TBC…
It's over – Hochstetter is finally gone forever. One danger less for Hogan, his men, Klink and the others. Yet Schmidt breathes down Hogan's neck far more than Hochstetter did, and our colonel has no clue about it.
I hope, you liked this chapter. I'm – personally – an opponent of executions, because I always say that only the Lord has the right to decide about life and death, but 75 years ago this kind of punishment was technically everywhere, and in this case it even was simply this: Justice. Yes, Hochstetter had been right – Hogan is Papa Bear – but let us face it: The guy really brought pain and anguish over many people and only got what he deserved in the end. Hopefully, you liked the way Hogan took his own kind of revenge on him.
Hilda knows the truth about our two love-birds now, but she is in love, too, and therefore she shows a lot of understanding what certainly wasn't so usual at those times.
In the next chapter, Burkhalter has a stern talk with Hogan. Their argument a few days ago is still between them, and now Hogan more or less disobeyed. It will be though, believe me. And Schmidt finds more proofs for his theory…
Like always, I'd be happy to get some reviews.
Have a nice start into the next week,
Love
Yours Starflight
