Hi, my dear readers,
Just like promised, here it the next chapter. It will be a turbulent one, because for once Burkhalter shows that he DOES hold some power, and Hogan has to learn that to be witty isn't always the solution. In the meantime, Schmidt gets more hints that Hochstetter maybe has been right concerning Papa Bear…
Thank you so very much for the feedback for the last chapter. I'm glad that you still love the story so much.
Have fun now with the next update,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 68 – A troublesome day
Hogan knocked on the office door and opened it, crush cap in hand. "You wanted to see me, General?"
Burkhalter sat at Klink's desk and nodded. "Yes, come in, Hogan, and close the door."
It didn't slip the colonel's attention that the Austrian was tensed and irritated, so he did as he was told, remained standing in front of the staff officer, and only sat down on the visitor chair as Burkhalter made an inviting gesture towards it. After Hogan was seated, the general took a deep breath and began to speak.
"I wanted to inform you that the remains of Major Hochstetter have been taken away, and he will be buried at the war cemetery in Hammelburg. Like you maybe already heard, your guesses concerning von Neuhaus' involvement in this whole mess were true. It was him who smuggled Hochstetter into Stalag 13 and supplied him with the pistol, making it look as if Schmidt was lazy and Hochstetter could get hold of the weapon himself. But the truth came out. You certainly heard from your men by now that I shot him."
Hogan's eyes widened. No, this 'detail' hadn't been mentioned by Kinch or Newkirk. On the other hand, he and they were in the middle of a talk as Schultz appeared to summon him. "No, General, I haven't heard about it until now. You shot him?"
Burkhalter nodded slowly. "Yes, he tried to flee and aimed a gun at young Schmidt. I had no other choice than to shoot him before he could kill the Oberleutnant."
A whistle escaped Hogan. "You must have been very quick then."
"Yes, people make the mistake to underestimate me," Albert said furtively. "Which brings me to another topic." Leaning back on his chair, he watched the American for a moment before he continued. "I know that there are certainly a lot of differences between the Wehrmacht and the US Army. Yet I think both militaries have one thing in common: Orders have to be followed."
Hogan instantly knew to what the general was referring to and decided to play it carefully. "Of course," he nodded.
"Yes, 'of course'. Then I ask myself why you simply ignored a direct order."
"Sir?" Robert asked, cocking his head.
"Don't play your games with me, Hogan. You can do this with Klink, but certainly not with me!" Burkhalter sounded really angry now. "I gave you clear orders to lay down, and what did you?"
"I lay down just like you told me, sir. I even found some sleep and…"
"I meant that you return to your quarters to lay down! Instead of obeying, you remained in the infirmary just like you wanted!"
"You ordered me to find some rest, and that's exactly what I did," the American defended himself.
"No hair-splitting, Hogan. You knew exactly what I meant without spelling it out to you. You're intelligent enough, otherwise you wouldn't be a full rank colonel, leader of an entire squadron," the general snapped, eyes narrowed. "You denied my order and refused to obey. I'm sure your superiors would send you to a court martial if you acted like this under their command."
Robert sighed. "General, last night was one big mess, and everything was turned upside down. It was only afterwards I became aware of some stronger bruises I got during my combat with Hochstetter and…"
"Yes, Dr. Birkhorn already told me about the table leg Hochstetter used as a club against you. And I don't doubt that you received some painful blows which trouble you now. But we both know that's no reason to disobey a direct order. That the beds in the infirmary are softer than the one in your own quarters, and therefore you remained in sickbay, is a lame excuse. You already argued with me concerning your wish to stay with Klink…and that's exactly what you did." He placed both hands flat on the desktop, bending forwards in the process to fix the younger man with an angry stare. "I already told you half an hour ago, shortly before Hochstetter's execution, that I'm well aware of your stubbornness and your habit to twist everything until you reach your goal. That's exactly what you did last night. You are aware that I can't let this go unpunished."
Hogan groaned and stroked through his hair with one hand. As it seemed, he really was in deep water. "Sir, Colonel Klink is gravely injured. He might not make it. And you agreed with me that the presence of a friend can do wonders in such cases. I couldn't leave him like that with the Grim Reaper lurking somewhere in the shadows. I simply couldn't."
Burkhalter watched him, his mind fully awake even if he was tired. "Yes, I can understand that, Hogan, but an order is an order." He glared at him. "At least you don't deny it any longer – finally, I have to add."
"Deny what, sir?" Robert asked carefully.
"That you and Klink have become friends." He leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach. "A very uncommon thing given the fact that you both are on different sides and official enemies of each other. I'm not sure how your Brass will react to something like this – befriending a hostile officer while being in captivity – but I'm sure of what our Brass is going to say about it: that it's preposterous."
Hogan took a deep breath. "General, friendship is not a crime," he began softly, not knowing that Schmidt had said something likewise a few minutes ago to his companion. "Klink and I learned first to tolerate one another, then to respect each other, and finally to like each other. And while he nursed me back to health, we spent a lot of time together…more than ever before. We spoke of our families, our hobbies, music, art, sports and so on. If you learn more about someone, enmity can take a backseat…because suddenly you see the human in the other one and no longer the uniform. Klink's a fine man, and his heritage doesn't count for me any longer. Yes, he can act silly sometimes, but he is a honorable guy if you take your time to look behind the façade. I'm sure you know what I mean. Of course, we could have pretended further to barely tolerate each other, but that would be a lie to ourselves and to others. And we both saw no reason to do so."
"Except for the fact that you are on different sides in a raging war, you mean," Burkhalter sneered. "You are aware that this friendship could be regarded as treason?"
Shaking his head, Hogan looked straight at Burkhalter. "General, at this point I have to object. You know why? Because we Americans already had our share of enmity between friends and even family members. Do you have any idea how often friends faced each other during the Civil War, one from the south and one from the north? Meeting each other on the battle field. Do you think they all killed each other? No, many of them ignored the other one or went into opposite directions. How often do you think POWs were taken only to see that the leading hostile officer or guard was a cousin, a dear friend from childhood, a close friend from West Point. Do you think they were cruel to each other or remembered the peaceful times and stayed civil? Yes, the Civil War ripped families and friends apart, but often enough the old affection was stronger than the madness that had seized so many soldiers in the end. And not one of those men, who refused to kill a family member or friend, was court martialed. Because love and friendship are stronger than hate – its nature, not treason. And if you think closer of it, I'm sure you agree with me."
The general examined the colonel's face closely and saw only honesty in his eyes. Hogan believed what he said. And if Albert was ready to admit the truth, he would agree with the younger man. But he wasn't.
"There's a difference between meeting a friend or cousin on a battlefield and sparing him, and a prisoner camp where those two friends are Kommandant and senior POW officer. A typical outcome of something like this is the granting of favors, which wouldn't happen otherwise."
Hogan grimaced. "Believe me, neither Klink nor I grant each other any special favors or…"
"Wrong, Hogan." Burkhalter growled. "Klink treats you with velvet gloves and overindulges you. When I think of last Saturday…"
"I know I overdid it then, but I wanted the danger out of the camp for all of us. You not only endangered the POWs, but also your own men. The rocket's presence was against the Geneva Convention, and you know it," Robert interrupted him calmly.
"Yes, you overdid it," Burkhalter nodded and ignored the rest of Hogan's sentence. "In every other camp you would have earned yourself a week or more in the cooler. And what did Klink do? He restricted you to your Barracks." He straightened his shape. "Friendship between official enemies is the beginning of laziness. It makes someone forget their duty and erodes authority. Rules and protocols are interpreted more to the other one's advantage. And that cannot happen. Not in a POW camp. It would mean the start of losing control and an inevitable collapse." He straightened his shape again. "There's only one solution to this: separation."
Hogan was on high alert by now. "But…"
"Seeing that Klink is in too bad of a condition to be moved at all, there is only one possibility left. You're being transferred."
Hogan thought a bucket full of ice water had been emptied above him. "You can't do that," he whispered, unaware how much his voice croaked. He couldn't leave Stalag 13. Not now! Will needed him. His friends needed him. What about the operation and….
"I can do this, Hogan, and you know it," Burkhalter said strongly, and looked at the American, who had become white like a tablecloth. "I already thought about it last Saturday, but Klink talked me out of it. I now know why. Because your 'if we wouldn't be at war, we would be friends' is really 'we are friends'."
For once, Hogan didn't know what to say and glanced almost helplessly at the Austrian. "But…this camp's become my home," he heard himself saying, flinching almost at the realization how true that statement was. Despite the shabbiness and unpleasant living conditions, these wooden huts had become something like a home for him. Last but not least, because of his friends and Wilhelm. 'Home is where your heart beats'. That saying definitely went for Robert.
Burkhalter frowned. "Don't give me this sensitive nonsense, Hogan. You can tell this your granny, but not me."
"I beg your pardon, but you don't understand. My men are like brothers for me – family. And Will…what about him?"
Burkhalter watched the colonel closely, and for the first time ever he saw real fear in the younger man's eyes. The prospect of leaving Stalag 13 and being transferred somewhere else seemed to indeed scare him.
"There it is again: Klink has a big part in all of your decisions."
"And why is that bad?" Hogan whispered.
"I already told you that it is against all written rules that two enemies grow this close," Albert snapped.
"Rules have no command over emotions. It…it simply happens," Robert said quietly, feeling coldness spreading through him while his belly clenched. The mere thought of leaving this all before the war was over, to be forced to abandon his operation, to leave his friends behind, and to be separated from Will, not knowing how he was…it indeed awoke something close to fright in him.
"Yes, this much I understand. And it has to stop," the general replied, while he thought back at Hochstetter's hurtful words. That he, Albert Burkhalter, had no true friends, but Klink had found a loyal friend in Hogan and the other way around. True friendship really could cross lines and borders, and could succeed where rules and protocols failed. It was this exact point that gave Burkhalter second thoughts. He felt a headache approaching.
Pinching his nose and closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath before he glanced back at the American. Hogan just looked like a shocked child to him, his fingers clinging to his crush cap like it was his only hold.
The general grimaced as he saw the soft tremors which went through the younger man. "For God's sake, Hogan, this is not the end of the world."
"Not yours," Robert croaked.
Burkhalter rolled his eyes. "You can be a real drama queen. That's something you and Klink have in common."
Usually Robert would have given a fitting answer to such an imputation, but all his strength seemed to bleed away for once. A tense silence spread through the room born out of Burkhalter's irritation and Hogan's unsettled state of mind. His mouth had become dry, and he was not aware of his shaking fingers. After all that happened within the last few hours, after the emotional rollercoaster and the still lasting mixture of hope and fear concerning Will's survival, he felt his limits closing up on him. And Burkhalter saw it, too.
The general sighed and rose to make strides up and down. Something that usually calmed him and also increased his thoughts. Yes, it would be the best for all of them if he would go through with this measurement. Hell, it was his duty. But…good God, it would raise more problems than solve them. Hogan held a key-position to the camp's functions, and he was glad for any less trouble he had to smooth out.
Watching the younger man, he realized that the prospect of leaving here really pained Hogan. As Burkhalter had to admit, the American had been through a lot within the last two months. Deciding that he had driven his point home concerning insubordination, he leaned against the desk and said slowly, "The reason – the only one – why I detest from transferring you is the fact that Stalag 13 is the only camp in the Third Reich that works flawlessly."
He saw how Hogan quickly lift his head again and looked at him with new hope in his eyes. Alas, how was it possible that such a strong, highly intelligent, and witty officer could be like a boy? Albert heard himself sighing for the uncounted time before he added, "Stalag 13 is the only camp without any successful escape. Without attempted rebellions, even without death cases. And I think I know the reason for it. Like Corporal Langenscheidt told me bluntly, the answer for this all lays in Klink's and your leading style. In other words, you two are holding this oversized Kindergarten class together, which spares me one of many problems I'm facing at the moment. I would be stupid to add more trouble to the weight I already carry on my shoulders."
Hogan felt his spirits rising. "I…I can stay?" he asked tentatively.
The general gave him a hard gaze. "Don't make me regret it." He returned to the desk chair and sat down again. Folding his hands back on the desktop, he continued. "I shouldn't care if you regard this camp as a kind of home or how close you and your men have become. We are at war, for the case that you have forgotten, and you belong to the enemy. You get nourishment, have a roof over your head, and are alive. That's all that should matter to me in accordance with the Geneva Convention. Regrettably, I know that everything would go out of hand with Klink being out of commission for the next few weeks and you no longer here. If it wouldn't sound so absurd, I would say both of you are in charge of this camp."
Robert moistened his lips, still feeling cold. "No, sir…it's Colonel Klink who leads Stalag 13."
Burkhalter snorted. "Why so formal all of a sudden? Do you really think it slipped my attention that you referred to Klink as 'Will' a few moments ago? If my English skills don't fail me, it's the English short version of 'Wilhelm'." He shook his head and rubbed his face with one hand. Glancing at Hogan, he saw that some color returned to the younger man's cheeks, which told him everything: the American had really been afraid to be transferred.
He folded his hands on the desktop again. "Like I said, your undeniable influence on the other POWs to keep them still is the only reason why I don't send you away…for now. I'll take over charge of Stalag 13 within the next few days until a temporary substitute for Klink is found and arrives. I'll watch you in those days very closely, Hogan. If you give me only the tiniest reason, I won't give a damn about this crazy, peaceful, co-existence between guards ad POWs within these wires and transfer you to another camp. Have I made myself clear?"
A part of Robert was irritated that Burkhalter had been able to scare him for a moment, but he was too happy to act on it. Relief washed over him and made him nod. "Yes, General," he answered, not able to suppress a smile.
"Hm," Burkhalter grumbled. "You can call yourself lucky that I still have some soft spots left in me. Believe me, other generals wouldn't let you off the hook this easily. I have to admit that I'm impressed that you obviously take responsibility not only for your men, but for all occupants of this crazy camp. That's more than any other senior POW officer would do – and you did it. I heard you took over command yesterday and prevented the erupting chaos from getting out of control."
Hogan cocked his head. "I know that I have no authority over the guards, but there was the risk that everything would run out of the rudder, and I didn't want more bloodshed."
Burkhalter nodded. "I already learned about it from Schultz and Langenscheidt. You were the only trained officer left and gave the necessary order to keep everybody in check. I don't know what your superiors are going to say to such a behavior. That you technically led the camp you are imprisoned in and supported your jailers. But one thing is for sure: Your intervention nipped away any rebellion or other chaos that could of formed. This, your friendship with Klink, your willingness to risk your own life for him…it saved the day. Even if I don't understand your motivations."
"It's just like you said, sir. Will and I are friends," Hogan replied softly, keeping silent about the other main reason for his doings last night. Namely the operation "Unsung Heroes".
Burkhalter nodded slowly. "Yes, an epic friendship as it seems. Something written only in books. You even ceased from trying to escape as you had the chance, you fought for Klink's life, and risked your neck for him. The prospect of being transferred even scared the hell out of you a few minutes ago." He snorted. "If it wouldn't sound so silly, I would almost think that Hochstetter was right about you two."
"Sir?" Hogan asked, feeling new alert growing in him.
"He accused you two of being a couple."
"WHAT?" Hochstetter had figured it out, too? He really had to work on his control and acting skills.
Albert saw the younger man gaping at him, eyes wide, expression flabbergasted. He made a face. "I certainly wore the same look you wear now as I heard those words. You and Klink flirt around a lot…and not with each other, but with every pretty woman who crosses your paths. But Hochstetter saw it differently, of course." He chuckled and shook his head. "It showed me how insane he really had become." He pursed his lips. "Speaking of Hochstetter, what did you tell him out there?" He nodded towards the direction where the firing squad happened. "He turned completely hysterical afterwards."
Hogan, calming down by now, leaned back and felt a grim smile tugging at his mouth. "I told him that he lost. That Colonel Klink and I will roam Earth as free men after the war, while he rots in his grave. Guess he didn't like it."
Burkhalter looked at him with big eyes and made an amused noise in his throat. "So, you got your revenge in the end even without raising a gun or knife." He cocked his head. "I never thought you would have a cruel side in you, Hogan."
"Usually I don't have one…but Hochstetter brought out the worst in me."
"Understandable," the general agreed. "It's odd, isn't it. Friendship and hate – both can make us see the person beneath the uniform."
"Well, both is very personal," Robert thought aloud. "It only ends in the complete opposite emotions." He hesitated a moment. "Sir, may I ask how it was even possible for Hochstetter to escape the camp he was sentenced to? He wore the uniform of a sergeant of the Totenkopf-SS, and these guys are notorious for their brutal efficiency."
Albert could understand that Hogan wanted to know how this whole mess was even possible to take place at all. He grimaced. "You can blame your damn United Air Force for the whole train wreck." He shook his head. "I spoke with the Kommandant of the camp where Hochstetter was staying. There was an air battle between a few aircrafts of our Luftwaffe and the US Air Corps. One of your air fighters was shot down, exploded in the air, and the burning parts fell down onto the camp. You can imagine the chaos that broke loose in result."
Hogan nodded slowly. "It certainly cost a lot of lives," he said quietly, thinking of the prisoners locked up and unable to escape the approaching doom, but also of the pilot. Hopefully the man had parachuted out before is bird exploded.
"Unbelievably, the only victim was Sergeant Vogel," Burkhalter told him. "He was killed by Hochstetter. The battle had already caused alarm within the camp, and the prisoners were all outside of their Barracks as the rest of the aircraft fell down. It set fires to a few Barracks the prisoners began to douse – and during the whole chaos, Hochstetter acted." He grimaced. "He wasn't the only one who escaped, by the way. Eleven other prisoners are missing, as well as the pilot who was able to save himself by parachuting out of the aircraft shortly before it exploded. The men are still on the run, but it's only a question of time until they're caught."
Robert kept his face expressionless, despite the relief he felt on the pilot's behalf. And there was another bonus. This information, together with Hochstetter's unintended, almost disclosure of the location where he worked, would certainly be very interesting to London. All the data combined would tell them where to find those 'half-risen halls' in which the 'cursed Luftwaffe fighters' were produced. Despite his deep worry for Wilhelm, Hogan was still Papa Bear: one of the master spies within Germany.
"What became of the air battle?" he asked, hoping to learn more.
"Your comrades flew to the south afterwards, losing our Messerschmitts in the Alpen and the clouds there. All I heard is that our aircrafts gave yours a lot of trouble." He looked satisfied at those words.
"Well, nothing is more short lived than military achievements. Not long before we'll know how your new drives work and make better ones."
The general gave him a sure glare, snorted, and leaned back on his chair. "Coming back to business and the second reason why I called you here," he switched the topic. "I want to have your detailed report on what happened yesterday. I got the basics, but nothing more. You're the only eye witness with Klink unconscious."
Hogan nodded and opened his mouth to start, but Burkhalter lifted a hand, rose, went to the door, and opened it. "Fräulein Hilda, please come in with your shorthand notebook. I want you to record Colonel Hogan's report concerning the assault yesterday."
Hilda smiled at him. "With pleasure, Herr General." She stepped into the office and took the second visitor chair, winking at Hogan who smiled back. Burkhalter suppressed his urge to roll his eyes again. As it seemed, Robert Hogan was everyone's darling under this roof.
*** HH *** HH ***
As Oberleutnant Schmidt and Sergeant Fuhrmann headed towards the infirmary, they saw Schultz and Hogan entering the Kommandantur. Of course Burkhalter had a lot of questions for the colonel, and so Schmidt decided to give the two men some time to sort everything out. Instead of questioning Hogan, Schmidt went to the infirmary to make a sick visit, assuming that Klink was still unconscious. As he stepped into the building, he saw the Englishman and one of Hogan's negro friends standing near a folding screen. Realizing that Klink obviously lay behind it, the two SS-men closed the distance between it. Horst couldn't help himself as he acknowledged that the two POWs watched over Klink. He felt touched.
Kinchloe and Newkirk turned around at the approaching steps and glanced at the newcomers warily, but not hostile. They knew at least the young German was a rather decent man.
"Good morning, Gentlemen," Schmidt greeted them against protocol and stepped closer, Fuhrmann at his side.
"Lieutenant," the English flyer replied calmly, while the other man nodded at him.
"Lieutenant Schmidt," Kinch said.
Horst realized how Fuhrmann tensed and suddenly knew that his confidant was uncertain in the presence of the dark skinned man. "Sergeant Kinchloe, right?" he addressed the negro male, who nodded.
"Yes."
Schmidt turned towards his companion. "May I introduce you? Sergeant Kinchloe, Hogan's second in command, Sergeant Fuhrmann, my right hand, so to say." He watched how both men nodded at each other rather stiffly, and Schmidt assumed that his confidant didn't have much experience with people of different color. Odd, he himself hadn't any problem with them.
"How is Oberst Klink doing?" he asked to loosen the tension.
Kinch sighed. "Not good. His pulse and heart rate are stable, but he's still out cold. The doctor doesn't know if he is in coma or not." He had to cough and make room for Schmidt, who walked around the folding screen and stopped dead in his tracks. He had seen Klink bad before. While the Oberst had a nasty cold while freeing Hogan and later in his quarters. That had been nothing compared to now. If he wouldn't had seen the small movements of the man's chest, he would've thought he was dead.
Closing the distance to the bed, he sighed quietly. Giving into an impulse, he lay a hand on the Oberst's arm, squeezing it gently. "And to think that von Neuhaus made this possible by supporting Hochstetter only out of grudges and jealously."
Fuhrmann stepped beside him and pressed his lips into a thin line before he murmured, "The Leutnant got what he deserved." He glanced up at Kinchloe, who stood beside him, and felt a new wave of unease he fought back. Yes, he had no experience with people of other races, but as he met this man's eyes, he couldn't deny the gentleness in them. "You worry about the Oberst?" he asked tentatively, and the US-sergeant nodded.
"Yes. Colonel Klink's a fine man. Everything would be worse for us if it wouldn't be for him. He treats us like people, you know."
Fuhrmann nodded slowly, grasping what the other man meant. He knew of the bad conditions POWs had to live in the other camps. Especially in those which were led by the Totenkopf-SS. Compared to those camps, Stalag 13 was an oasis. He also knew that people of color, how the saying went, faced even harsher conditions. Until now, he hadn't thought closer about it, but seeing the calm, gentle way the sergeant acted, he began to realize that the so called 'white' men had still a lot to learn.
Schmidt turned towards Kinchloe and Newkirk. "As far as I understood, you had a part in the whole assault yesterday, too. Trying to help your own superior and Oberst Klink. I have to investigate the whole case and write a report afterwards. I need a few statements from you."
"Herr Oberleutnant, a Luftwaffe officer has to be present when POWs of the Luftwaffe are interviewed," Fuhrmann reminded him politely.
"I can get Schultz, if you like," Newkirk offered. He'd rather get the whole thing over with as soon as possible.
"Yes, please," Schmidt agreed, before he turned his attention back towards Klink, while Peter left the infirmary. "And to think that I originally wanted to make a fleeting visit to the camp yesterday evening as I drove home from the Schneiders." He shook his head, feeling guilty.
"It wasn't your fault, Lieutenant. No one could assume that von Neuhaus would stoop so low as to have a part in an assault against a high ranking officer of the Luftwaffe," Kinch said softly, seeing how much the German was troubled by everything. As it seemed, Klink had found a further friend in Schmidt.
Horst offered the American a short smile. "Thanks for your kind words, but I can't shake off the feeling that I could have done something different. Something that could have prevented all of this."
A minute later, Newkirk returned with Schultz, and the two POWs began to answer Schmidt's questions as honestly as possible. As Hogan didn't appear after the interview was done, Schmidt wanted to use the time to inspect the uniform store and also the place where von Neuhaus' car had parked. Schultz showed him and Fuhrmann the way.
"From here it was possible to watch the forecourt of the compound," Schmidt murmured, while he glanced out of the window of the uniform store. "He already could have killed Klink then – during roll call. Him and maybe even Hogan. Yet, he didn't do it."
"No. I'm sure he wanted to savor his revenge. General Burkhalter hinted something like that after his talk with Hochstetter," Schultz sighed.
Fuhrmann pointed at the Kommandant's quarters. "This is more than seventy meters. A long way away. No wonder that he was spied."
"And yet, none of the guards recognized him because he wore one of our uniforms," Hans grumbled. "If it hadn't been for Corporal LeBeau, who had opened the Barrack's door to get some fresh air, Hochstetter would have had enough time to finish what he started."
Schmidt pursed his lips. "I heard that Hogan alerted the guards."
"Yes, he did. I was already in my quarters as turmoil started in the compound. I ran outside and heard Colonel Hogan calling, 'Überfall, Wachen zum Quartier des Kommandanten'. I hastened towards his voice and saw him racing over the compound towards Kommandant Klink's quarters, while he continued to call the guards for aid." He grimaced. "Then the shot rang out. Hogan vanished into the building, Hochstetter locked the door to trap him and…well…you know the rest."
Schmidt crossed his arms in front of his chest, then something caught his attention. "Hogan called the guards…in German?"
"Jawohl, Herr Oberleutnant," Schultz answered, realizing that he maybe had given more away than necessary.
"At the People's Court, Oberst Klink stated that Hogan speaks only a little bit of German, and that it's not even very well. And now he orders the guards in German to come to Kommandant Klink's quarters because of a beginning assault?"
Schultz knew that he had to be careful now. "I know that the Kommandant began to teach Colonel Hogan German while he stayed in the Kommandant's quarters. He gave him German books to read and polished his grammar. One time I appeared as the Kommandant was schooling him. He said the way the colonel spoke German hurt his ears." He forced himself to chuckle before he turned serious again. "As it seems, the lesson came to fruition."
Schmidt nodded slowly, yet his mind ran a thousand miles a minute. The minute Hogan pelted over the compound must have been pure stress for him – physically, but also mentally, knowing that someone's life he regarded as friend was at stake. He also had been aware that he was about to face a man one could call his arch enemy, who was above all armed. How well could someone speak in such a situation a foreign language he was still learning?
'… zum Quartier des Kommandanten…'
If you translate this order 'to the quarters of the Kommandant' from English to German literary, what would be normal under the given circumstances, it should be worded '… zu das Quartier von dem Kommandant…', but Hogan had used the absolute correct grammar by putting noun maker and preposition together. Hell, he even chose the correct gender of the noun maker and conjugated it, because the long vision would have been 'zu dem Quartier'. But he shortened it correctly with 'zum Quartier'. He even used the right genitive saying 'des' and put the conjugated 'en' at the term 'Kommandant'. In other words, Hogan not only used the right grammar, but had advanced knowledge of German.
How much could a man learn within a few weeks? Basics, but not such an augmented usage of a foreign language. Above all, in such a situation. For something like that you had to speak a language not only fluidly, but also had to think in it, which took years of practice.
And Schmidt was certain if he would ask some guards, they would confirm that Hogan's accent hadn't been bad, too. He was almost convinced that the American colonel spoke accent free German. What did this tell him? More than he liked.
Outwardly, the Oberleutnant remained calm while he listened to Schultz explain to Fuhrmann how the whole camp was alerted and what happened then from his point of view. But inwardly, Schmidt became eager to make some telephone calls with the four men who served at the People's Court in the anteroom. He had to know who called from Stalag 13 no matter what.
Finished with the uniform store, Fuhrmann accompanied Schultz to the side of the Kommandantur where von Neuhaus had parked his car. Being in the police even before the Third Reich was founded and merged into the SS, Schmidt let his confidant continue with the investigation and walked to the Kommandantur, hoping that Burkhalter was done with Hogan by now so that he could ask the colonel some questions.
As he stepped into the building, he found the anteroom empty, but heard murmurs from the room next door. Knocking politely, he waited until he heard Burkhalter's voice and stepped in. His gaze instantly found Hilda, who sat beside Hogan with a steno book on her lap, pencil in hand. She gave him a warm smile that he returned before nodding at the two men.
"I hope I don't disturb you, gentlemen, but I have to return to the Headquarters soon and need to ask Colonel Hogan some questions before I leave."
"Is it about the mess yesterday?" Burkhalter asked. As Schmidt nodded, the general announced, "Colonel Hogan just gave his full report. Maybe this will answer everything for you, too. Stay here."
"Thank you, Herr General. One moment please." He went to the anteroom, got himself a chair, and sat down in the office. The others had waited for him, and as he looked at the American, he once again saw how exhausted, but also troubled the senior POW officer appeared. There was no doubt anymore that he and Klink had become good friends. Once again, Horst remembered himself that Hogan even risked his life to protect his German counterpart, but he also remembered how easily the colonel figured out von Neuhaus' role. As if he was used to looking through clever schemes. Or better to say, was used to making them himself.
'You ARE Papa Bear, or I'll eat my hat,' he thought, but kept silent.
Within the next half hour, Hogan answered the two German officers' questions as good as he could, while Hilda recorded everything, and Schmidt made his own notes. Finally, after an eternity, they were done, and Hogan was relieved when Burkhalter dismissed him.
Smiling shortly at Hilda and saluting to Burkhalter, for once properly, he nodded at Schmidt and left the office. He felt restless because of the string of chaos and consequences Hochstetter's assault left.
He saw LeBeau, Baker, and Carter leaving Barracks 2 and looking at him over the compound grinning. They had listened to the whole conversation. Of course. He simply knew that they would have intervened if the whole discussion wouldn't had a good outcome for him.
Schultz, who talked with a few guards and the other SS-man that accompanied Schmidt, gave him a questioning gaze, and Hogan smiled at him, signaling that everything was okay.
A minute later, he stepped into the infirmary. Newkirk was still there, but Kinchloe was nowhere to be seen.
"How did it go, sir?" Peter asked quietly, while he sat in the visitor chair near Klink's bed.
"It was a close call," Hogan sighed, rubbing his neck. "Burkhalter wanted to transfer me for my insubordination last night, but had a change of heart in the end."
The English flyer sighed. "That would have been a catastrophe – you away from Stalag 13."
"Tell me about it. He said I'm important for the peaceful co-existence between us and the guards, and that he doesn't need more problems at the moment. I think the whole failure of the rockets last weekend gave him a lot of trouble despite his friendship with Himmler." He glanced down on Will before he looked around. "Where's Kinch?"
"He was coughing a lot, and Dr. Glockner offered to examine him. They are in the backroom and…"
The door opened, and the surgeon and Kinchloe returned. "Thanks for your help, Doctor," James said gratefully, and the man waved it off.
"It's not much I can do without good medicine, but if you do like I said, you'll be cured within the next few days." He glanced at Hogan. "Sergeant Kinchloe has the beginnings of bronchitis. I ordered bed rest for him and gave him a few pills he's to take in the morning and evening. I will tell General Burkhalter about it and ask him to excuse the sergeant from roll calls for a couple of days. The cold, damp air outside is poison for him."
Hogan gave him a real, grateful smile. "Thank you, Doctor. We owe you." Yes, he knew that he couldn't trust Glockner completely, otherwise Birkhorn would have let him know about it. But at least the man was decent, which was more you could state about other surgeons within the Third Reich.
Glockner nodded at him and went to the door. "Is the general still in his office?"
"Yes, he is," Hogan nodded, glad that the doctor left them for a short time. He could finally speak openly with Kinch and Newkirk about another topic that was important. Watching the German go, he finally turned towards his second in command.
"Kinch, I know you need rest, but you have to make a quick call to London. Or have Baker do it. I got information about another facility that Messerschmitts or parts of them are produced at."
"You went to Burkhalter and learned something?" James asked.
"You even can make a mute man sing, eh, Gov'nor." Newkirk teased.
Hogan rolled his eyes. "Far from it. I got a few puzzle pieces and put them together. Hochstetter escaped because one of our flyers was shot down over the camp he was sentenced to. There was a short air battle between our boys and the Krauts. I think that's the only incident that happened two days ago, so the Brass will know where the whole thing happened. As Hochstetter trapped me, he raged about his fate that he had to 'work with Jewish and Russian scum in half risen halls in the woods'. He also mentioned 'the cursed Luftwaffe aircrafts'. In other words, there where our flyer was shot down was not only a prisoner camp, but also a hidden facility. Hochstetter's words about 'half risen halls' speak about it. With that information London can find out where the facility is and how far it's been risen by now – if they don't already know about it from the air battle."
Kinchloe nodded. "Alright, Colonel. I'll tell London about it. Anything else?"
"Tell them we need to know where the prisoner camp and the facility are. Not only because a few sabotages are necessary. Our pilot is on the run, as well as eleven other escaped prisoners. I want to alert the Underground. When we know where the guys are, the Underground can help them."
Newkirk smiled at him. Typical Hogan – always ready to come to others' aid no matter what.
"I'll ask London to keep us updated. As soon as I learn about the location, I'll inform you," Kinch promised.
"Great," Robert nodded. "At least something good can come out of the whole mess Hochstetter made." He glanced at Klink, and his face softened. "And if you would end your beauty sleep soon, Willie, it would really make my day." He closed the distance to the bed, and gripped Klink's cool hand. "Don't give up, do you hear me? I need you."
Newkirk and Kinchloe exchanged a glance, half nerved, half touched.
Robert squeezed Will's fingers one last time before he turned back towards his friends to tell them that they had to stay low within the next few days in which Burkhalter would be in charge of Stalag 13. And none of them saw how Klink's left hand moved more to the middle, while he slowly turned his head, still asleep.
*** HH *** HH ***
"And you're absolutely certain that you understood the name correctly?" Schmidt asked, while looking down on the notes he had made during the last two telephone calls. He and Fuhrmann had returned two hours ago from Stalag 13, had questioned Klausner, and Schmidt was now officially busy with writing his report.
Unofficially, Schmidt was busy collecting more information of what happened at the People's Court three and a half weeks ago. After he learned that Hogan obviously spoke perfect German and looked through schemes others wouldn't dream of, Horst was more than eager to find out the truth about the American colonel. He had started to phone the men that had worked at the Court's telephone exchange, and the second one already hit a bullseye.
The man that had received the call for Oberst Klink had spoken with the man on the other line and had given the Luftwaffe officer the telephone receiver afterwards. He also listened with one ear of the conversation, detecting from the Oberst's words that there was a garbage problem in the camp the Kommandant took care of. Another call had finally distracted the man, but what he had heard until then was enough for Schmidt.
So, the call had indeed been about a garbage problem, or this was the excuse. It would be easy to find out the truth. During his next visit at Stalag 13, he would ask innocuously some guards or a noncom about the 'garbage problem', and then he would know if there had been one at all.
What gave him second thoughts was the name of the man who had been called a Major Hupel or Hoople. It depended on the way the name was spoken. Both names weren't exactly German. To tell the truth, Schmidt couldn't assign it to any language he knew. It was neither English, nor French, Spanish, Italian, or German. It sounded like a fantasy name. Something someone came up with.
Why for God's sake had it been necessary to send a stranger to Stalag 13 as Klink's substitute for the time the Oberst had been in Berlin, when a major was serving at the camp? Schmidt couldn't remember another trained officer in Stalag 13 other than Klink. Schultz was certainly a capable Sergeant of the Guards, but usually noncoms weren't made an officer's substitute.
Okay, the major could have been transferred within the last three weeks, but this didn't answer the question why this ominous Hoople hadn't been put in charge of the camp, but Major Sandhaus. If Hoople had been garrisoned in Stalag 13 for quite some time, he would have been the better man for the job than someone who came from the active service with no experience to lead a POW camp. Schmidt had heard enough from Hilda to know that the man had been a catastrophe in the two days he had been there. And, she had never mentioned a 'Major Hoople'.
To answer the question once if this Hoople even existed, Horst called the registration office of the Luftwaffe. He needed some time until he was linked to the correct dialogue partner, but finally he could put his request in. He used the excuse that he was investigating a case in which the name 'Major Hoople' was mentioned and wanted to speak with the man.
The lieutenant at the other end of the line couldn't help him immediately because the first search brought no success, but he promised to check the inquiry more properly and would call Schmidt back as soon as he found something. It was almost scary how quickly Wehrmacht members were ready to support someone as soon as the name 'SS' was mentioned. Once again, Schmidt became aware of the fact how wrong everything was in Germany now.
After he got the ball rolling, his attention was driven back to the current mess Hochstetter and von Neuhaus had made and began to write his report. He wanted to finish this so that he could turn his full concentration on his next mess: Papa Bear.
TBC…
Puh, this has been a close-call of a complete different nature than Hogan has to face usually. Of course it would mean trouble that he and Will became friends, and it meant even more trouble that Hogan didn't obey Burkhalter indirect order. Like it or not, but the general has the command. Yet in the TV-show it always was shown that he also has some soft spots, and in this case he listened more to his heart than to his mind again. Luck for Hogan – and Klink.
Yet Schmidt is on Hogan's tail, and he is going to get more and more parts of the puzzle.
In the next chapter, something will happen you all hope for. I don't tell what it is, only that it will bring some peace back to Hogan's mind.
I hope, you liked the new chapter and like always I'd be glad to receive reviews. I don't know if I find some time to publish the next part at Sunday, because it's my birthday, but if I get some calm minutes, I update the story.
Have a nice rest of the week,
Love
Yours Starflight
