Hi, my dear readers,
I hope you got the first week after the holidays over and done with rather easy and that the new year started good for you.
Thank you so much for the beg feedback. I never assumed that 'Fritz' would wake so much interest in you, and I think his doings within the new chapter catches a lot of you by surprise (hopefully).
Then there is Schultz – and for once he's going to need really help from Hogan. Not for himself, but… Well, you'll read about it during this chapter.
And again real history facts are a part of everything, not only concerning Schultz, but also Hammelburg and other towns. So don't wonder that a few mentioned things are rather harsh.
Enjoy,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 73 – Lots of news
Hogan met Friedrich again as he stopped by at the infirmary to have a last look on Will before returning to his Barracks. Both men simply ignored each other, Robert talked to Dr. Glockner, then left to go to his own quarters. Wilhelm was asleep, but he had eaten a little bit an hour before, and his fever was going down – a good sign.
"I'm really confused that his body is healing this well," the surgeon had said. "He must have the condition of an ox."
The colonel didn't even change out of his dress uniform before he climbed down into the tunnels accompanied by Kinchloe, who still nursed his cold, but was doing better. He quickly informed the Allies of what he had learned from Burkhalter.
"Roger, Papa Bear. Looking out for white-tailed eagles. Any assumptions where they will hunt?" asked the voice through the little speaker, covering the name of German air fighters by referring to the heraldic animal.
"Somewhere over the dragon fighter's den," Hogan answered, referring to St. Georg, the dragon killer who was the English national saint.
"Understood, Papa Bear. Anything else?"
"Yes. We'll get another interims Kommandant soon. Please give me all you have about an Otto von Friedrichstein, lieutenant of the Luftwaffe."
"We'll do, Papa Bear. Inform you as soon as possible. Goldilocks out."
James crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Do you really think the Krauts will start a new, big offensive against England?"
"They didn't manage to assault London with those damn rockets, but they certainly by now have produced a lot more Messerschmitts they'll use for another attack on the Allies. One where it will hurt the most." Hogan lay the microphone aside and returned to the ladder.
"Aren't they running out of pilots by now?" Kinch asked, frustrated.
"Don't ask me. Will said that the Wehrmacht shrinks more and more – the reason why that bastard Himmler summons too old and too young men and even women into the Volkssturm. The pilots become younger and younger – greenhorns, which are barely able to steer the new birds, but they consume their lack of experience with fanatism. And that's always a bad thing. Let's hope that our boys in England can intercept whatever will come before it's too late."
They returned to their Barracks, and Hogan was tempted to go over to the infirmary to stay with Will, but a few arguments spoke against it. The light was still switched on, which showed that Friedrich was still there, and Hogan didn't dare try to see him again. Then there was also the chance that London would radio them during the night, and he had to be there.
As he saw how many guards patrolled the compound, while the SS-sergeant was speaking with a few of them, it became clear that Burkhalter wanted to demonstrate to the older Klink and the SS-man how firm his grip was on the camp. A senior POW officer who slept in the sickbay to keep the wounded Kommandant company didn't fit in this picture – and Hogan didn't want to test his luck with Burkhalter again. It was a miracle that the general had played along almost 'nicely' within the last few days.
Sighing, Robert made himself ready for bed, but made his usual uniform ready to slip into within seconds should it become necessary.
*** HH *** HH ***
The next morning roll call was even earlier than usual – very much to the POWs' chagrin. Freezing, trembling, tired, and grumpy, they lined up in the compound, listened with a rising bad mood to Burkhalter's little speech concerning the new interims Kommandant, then glad they could finally return to their Barracks to warm up.
Hogan used the chance to peek into the infirmary. Dr. Glockner or Hauser hadn't called him over during the night, which showed that Will maybe slept peacefully, but Robert wanted to make sure that everything was all right with his lover. He quietly opened the door only to see Friedrich already sitting at his brother's bed, talking with him softly. So, Will was awake. Very good. And both men's voices sounded calm and quiet, so there was no argument between them. Granting them privacy, Hogan slipped away again and returned to his quarters, not angry to get another nap.
Kinchloe woke him a quarter before eight o'clock. "You have a visitor, Colonel," he said, and made room for the tall figure of Wilhelm's older brother.
Still half asleep, Hogan sat up, rubbed his eyes, and jumped down from the upper stock bed. Combing his fingers through his tousled hair, he needed a few seconds to wake up fully.
Friedrich looked around in the shabby room the American officer called his 'quarters': a stock bed, a simple desk with a chair, a side table, a stool to reach the upper bed more easily, a sink with a mirror, a locker, and an oven. There was nothing personal here except for a few photos and posters, a calendar on the wall, and some old magazines that lay on the desk.
"Nice," he commented.
"It isn't the Ritz-Carlton, but it's enough," Hogan commented, while slipping into his bathrobe made of parachute silk.
Friedrich lifted an eyebrow as he saw it. "The color doesn't suit you, but the robe has a good style."
"It was sewed by LeBeau from a used parachute. Your brother was nice to provide us with some material to complete weathered down clothes."
The other man nodded. "That sounds exactly like Wilhelm. He always was too soft, too kind-hearted. Maybe he really should've become a doctor. It fits his character more. Regrettably, his school results were too bad for medical study."
Hogan crossed his arms in front of his chest. "No wonder, seeing the problems he had. Maybe he would have done better if he would have had a brother he could rely on – who helped instead of taunted."
Friedrich sighed. "We all make mistakes," he said cagey, before he looked straight at Hogan. "And I don't know if I make a further mistake right now, but he and I talked earlier this morning a lot, and I realized how deep his trust is in you. Seeing how strongly you stand up for my brother, I…want to ask a favor from you."
"A favor – from me?" Robert wasn't sure if he was still asleep or could simply not trust his ears.
"Yes." The older Klink took a deep breath. "You know my opinion about prisoners in general, and I think we two will never bring it down to a common denominator. But one thing I've realized: You're serious concerning Wilhelm. You see a friend in him – and I know he doesn't have many friends."
Hogan only nodded and continued to listen.
The older Klink bit his lips before he straightened his shape. "Wilhelm and I never got along very well, but he is my younger brother. I promised our father on his deathbed to take care of my siblings and mother. My sister is happily married and, fortunately, in Switzerland, where she is safe. I can't help my mother or Wolfgang much after that idiot almost blew himself up last year. At least he is a civilian and doesn't have to fear any reprisals should the Allies win the war and take over Germany. But Wilhelm is an Oberst of the Luftwaffe. The Kommandant of a POW camp. I can imagine what lays ahead for him. I ask you to look out for him."
Robert blinked, completely baffled.
Clearing his throat, Friedrich added, "I know what's going on in other POW camps. The Allies bringing the responsible officers to justice is something I can count on two fingers. Even without military experience. I'm sure that the one or other Kommandant will not only face decades of jail, but maybe an execution. I understand that my brother treats the POWs in this camp with respect and politeness. It's his nature, and I hope that he's spared a hangman. But I know him. He wouldn't survive a few years in prison…I ask you to have his back should the Allies win and he has to answer a military court. You're a colonel and have some influence. That my brother is not hated among the POWs shows the fact that a few of them even donated blood for him, how General Burkhalter told me. Maybe you have a chance to support him should it come to the worst."
Hogan was thunderstruck. That the older Klink showed some real concern for his brother was something he had never thought. Maybe he had misjudged the man…at least when it came to his family.
"You're right concerning Will and I. He's my friend," he said slowly, knowing that he couldn't give anything more. "Of course I'll do everything within my power to help him, but even I can't affect justice."
Friedrich made an affirming gesture. "I know, but given the circumstances I'm sure you can obtain one or another favor from your superiors. If a few of the POWs put a good word in for him, maybe he won't be locked away for years. Just like I said; I don't think Wilhelm would withstand in jail."
There was real worry in the German's eyes now, and Hogan took a deep breath. "Yesterday you doubted that the Allies will win, and now…"
"Wilhelm and I talked a lot this morning, and he told me what's really going on at our borders. I know that the ministers and also many generals don't want to hear it, but it doesn't look good for us anymore. I believe my brother more in this case. And I worry for him. Wilhelm was always the most sensible one of us siblings, and I fear a captivity in some rotting prison will kill him. I…" He cleared his throat. "I'm ready to jump over my shadow and forget that you're an enemy. Wilhelm is your friend, and as such, I ask you to take care of his welfare should we lose the war and he goes into captivity."
It was obvious how much it costed the older Klink to voice this request, but there he stood in the middle of Hogan's tiny quarters, ignoring his own beliefs, asking a man he loathed to aid his brother. Robert couldn't deny it: He was impressed.
"I can't promise you anything," he answered quietly. "But be assured that I'll look out for him – not only here, but also afterwards. I won't turn my back on him or let him fall otherwise. Your brother is respected among the POWs, and there are certainly a few who will speak up for him…including me."
A soft sigh escaped the oldest Klink. "Thank you, Colonel. That's all I ask of you." He turned to leave, but looked back one last time. "You're an insolent, impertinent, and cheeky man – a typical American cowboy in my eyes…but you have courage, and you're almost brutally honest. You stand up for those who won your friendship. I'm…glad that Wilhelm found a real friend in you. Farewell, Colonel Hogan."
For the second time within the last few minutes, Hogan was at a loss for words for a moment. Only as the door to his quarters was almost closed he managed to say, "A good travel home, Herr Klink." The door shut, and Robert went to the window to look outside in the compound. He watched how the tall German walked towards the waiting car of General Burkhalter's. The black SS-vehicle had already left. Pursing his lips, Hogan saw how Friedrich slipped into the back seat beside the staff officer, then the car turned and drove through the gates.
Friedrich Klink had left like he had come: With a big surprise. And Robert Hogan realized that one idiom seemed to fit everyone within the Klink family: Tough on the outside, soft in the inside. He really hoped that he would meet Will's mother and other siblings one day.
*** HH *** HH ***
Dr. Glockner left shortly after Burkhalter to return to Hammelburg. "Oberst Klink is out of the woods, so to say, but he will need a long time to heal properly," was the surgeons explanation and warning.
Normally, the stitches and clamps could be removed two weeks after the surgery, but before a patient could be stressed fully again, it would last six weeks or more. The healing process depended on so many factors that Dr. Glockner was not able to say when Klink could resume his duty. At least he made some hope to leave the infirmary and return to the comfort of his quarters within the next three or four days. Dr. Birkhorn, who would visit every day, was to decide when the Oberst could be transported to his own four walls – a prospect Wilhelm looked forward to. But even then he was restricted to bed until further notice and needed the help of a nurse or medic to relieve himself with a bedpan or to his toilette.
"No problem, Doctor," Wilson said. "Young Hauser and I will help."
Dr. Glockner left and something like routine returned to the camp. Schultz was for now in charge and was glad that Hilda stopped by despite it being a Saturday, lending him a helping hand with the desk job.
Robert spent the morning with Will in the infirmary, talking about 'Fritz' at first. Wilhelm was flabbergasted as he heard that his older brother tried to help him by getting Hogan's support for the case 'should' the Allies win. Both colonels knew that it wasn't a question of 'if' anymore, but 'when'.
"It's a nice streak of him," Will mumbled. "I didn't think he really cared."
"He does. He only has a big problem with showing it," Robert answered. "You Klinks have one thing in common: Hard shell, soft core." He chuckled as he received a frown for it and a mumbling he couldn't understand.
"Hm," Klink grumbled. "And who is this wonder woman who waits in the US for you? Fritz didn't get tired of telling me what an 'angel and formidable' female you have back at home, so that I should never 'dream of getting you for myself'."
There was not distrust in Klink's eyes, only curiosity and a sort of uncertainty.
'Fritz, you bugger. Even if your brother is suffering from such a grave wound you can't skip from showing him what a 'loser' and 'poor guy' he is!' Hogan thought, getting furious for a moment. He met Will's eyes and saw him blinking in confusion. Of course, the older man had seen his emotional freak out.
Taking a deep breath, Rob said softly, "Well, your brother was right. There IS a woman waiting for me back in the States, and she is a kind of angel." He lifted a hand and let the backside of his bowed fingers wander gently over the older man's cheek. "And do you know what's really super? We both have the same woman in our lives."
This was a bit much for the still not so clear thinking Oberst. "We both know a few women who crossed our lives within the last three years, but I don't think that one and the same…"
"Willie, we both have the same TYPE of woman in our lives," Hogan interrupted him, while he couldn't suppress the grin that was tugging at his mouth.
Still, Wilhelm was far too much exhausted to get the hint. "There was never a type of woman in my life I needed, so…"
"Yes, there was and still is," Robert smirked. "Do you want a bet?" Again, he only received a confused glance, and so he let the cat out of the bag. "I don't know about your regards in this matter, but MY Mom is a kind of angel I'm happy to have in my life."
Klink's eyes were about to bulk out of his head, then he began to laugh. "HOOOGAN, you…" He stopped and coughed, grimacing and growling in aftermath. "God, I can't even laugh without everything hur…" The rest of his sentence went down in a gentle, half-embraced kiss he returned instantly.
Give it to his witty fox to make him laugh only three days after an almost deadly assault.
Robert sat up, missing his beloved's mouth instantly, but knew that he couldn't do more without risking Will's health. "Everything okay now?" he whispered, and Wilhelm nodded.
"Ja, everything is perfect now." He smiled as he felt the younger man's hand holding his.
Hogan was glad to display these acts of tenderness again without the fear of being caught. He not only kept Klink company during the whole morning and early midday, he also shaved him, for what Will was more than grateful for. He hated beards. Then the American got a another book from the library and read to Wilhelm until the older man fell asleep. LeBeau prepared some scrambled eggs with ham and white bread as lunch, earning a baffled, "Where did you get the ham from?" from Klink later in the day.
"A good cook never gives away his secrets," Louis smiled.
As Wilson appeared to give the Oberst another injection, Klink began to assume that not only Schultz, but also Robert and his men had gone to extraordinary lengths to get collation food and medicine for him. "Don't tell me this stuff comes from London," he whispered, as the medic explained what he had injected him with during the last few days.
"Yes, it was sent via air parcel, so to say," Robert joked, winking at the man he loved.
"You're crazy, Rob, you know that?"
Hogan grinned. "I was told likewise before."
Klink slept through the afternoon, and Wilson stayed with him while Hogan returned to his Barracks to fulfill a few duties as the camp's senior POW officer. Parallel, London sent some information about the man who would be in charge of the camp for the next few weeks, and Robert was more than curious. Hopefully the man wouldn't be such a catastrophe like the last interims Kommandant.
He read through the file that spoke of the man's career and learned he was shot down last year during an air battle over Berlin, and it ended his active service. He came from a lower noble family with old roots, had visited a military academy, and had served in the Luftwaffe even before the war started.
"The usual," Hogan sighed, as he closed the file and burned it in the oven. "Just wait to see what snob Burkhalter sends now."
In the late afternoon, word was given that the town Trier at the Mosel river had been conquered by the 3rd US division, while Canadian troops seized the town Xanten at the Lower Rhine. Two further bastions, besides Aachen, at the west border of Germany had fallen. Parallel, Hogan and his men learned that during the night more than 400 US air fighters had again attacked the almost completely destroyed Dresden. Robert groaned and decided to stay silent about it towards Will. There was no need to stir up his lover.
The evening came, but no staff car with the new interims Kommandant arrived. Langenscheidt summoned the POWs for evening roll call, Schultz went through with the protocol, then the men were sent back to their Barracks.
Hogan stayed with Will, feeding him some broth and bread. Not caring if Leutnant von Friedrichstein would show up during the night or not, Hogan decided to sleep in the infirmary just like Wilson did for the case that Klink needed medical care. Schultz said nothing to it as he took a look at his Kommandant and saw Hogan laying in the neighboring bed, while on one of the beds in the opposing sleeping area, Wilson waved at him.
During the night, Wilhelm suffered only a small period of nightmares, and Robert soothed him by waking up and comforting him. Will seemed to be so small in the sickbed, clad in the hospital gown, and pale like a tablecloth, Hogan didn't give a damn about proper behavior. He threw a glance towards Wilson, who was still sleeping. Satisfied, he slipped into his lover's bed, offered his shoulder as a pillow, and embraced the older man carefully. He felt how Will calmed down and even tried to snuggle closer to him. Pulling the comforter over both of them, Rob relaxed; happy and grateful beyond imagination that he could hold a still living Wilhelm Klink in his arms. He pressed a gentle kiss to the warm forehead and breathed in the familiar scent.
"I'm glad to still have you," he breathed. "I love you, Will."
Wilson pretended to be still asleep while he listened to his superior's soft whispers of comfort and affection. And as he dared to take a peek at the two officers, he saw that Hogan lay beside Klink and held him carefully in his arms. Joe snuggled closer into the his blanket and smiled to himself. The display of love and tenderness was like a light within the sinister darkness the world had turned into.
In the early morning hours, Hogan returned to his Barracks before roll call and learned from Kinchloe what Burkhalter had meant as he boasted about the 'German eagles'. After months of interruption, the German Luftwaffe had carried out a mission over Middle England the evening prior, intercepting squadrons of home coming RAF aircrafts. Thank the Lord the losses were of low number because US air fighters came to their British comrades' aid. They had been on alert and quick enough to intervene. Hogan's warning had come just in time.
Another disaster had happened, too. US bombers got off course and bombed Zürich and Basel, not knowing that the towns beneath them were not Munich and Augsburg, but two of the most important cities within Switzerland. Even the neutral country in the depths of the Alps learned painfully of the agony war spread through the world.
Morning roll call happened without the new Kommandant showing up. Yet Schultz didn't become nervous. He rather enjoyed the quiet time, because he knew that the peaceful hours would be over as soon as the Leutnant arrived. It was a calm Sunday, during which Will slept a lot.
In the afternoon, the telephone rang at the Schneiders' home, and Manfred's Aunt Charlotte Schwaigel called. The leading doctor of the hospital she worked at had allowed her to use the telephone in his office to call Hilda, and in an emotional mixture of bravery and sorrow, she told Klink's secretary that she was ready to give Johann-Manfred up for adoption – if Hilda still wanted to adopt him, that was. Charlotte had no chance to visit Hammelburg within the next few weeks with the trains being taboo for civilians and being without a car. But time pressed for a decision.
"The Allies are coming closer," the woman said softly. "They're already in Trier, and we just heard on the radio that they bombing Ulm, which is also not far away. I don't know what they will do with us, and I hope they will leave us alone, but I don't want to take any risks. I have no chance to send my own children to safety, because I don't think that there's a safe place anymore left in Germany…but I know that Johann's chances are better if he stays with you and…and this officer in the camp you work at. Oberleutnant Schmidt told me that he will speak with him concerning you and the child, so…"
Horst was with the Schneiders and had accompanied Hilda into the hallway as he heard from her mother, who was on the phone. Having listened to the talk so far, he gestured to Hilda to give him the receiver.
"Frau Schwaigel? It's me, Schmidt. I talked with the man. Your nephew, Hilda, and her parents will be safe, so don't fear for them."
"Thank you," Charlotte whispered. "And please…thank the officer from me, too." She didn't dare to refer to the 'officer' as an American or even use his name for the case that the Gestapo was listening, but Schmidt understood her nonetheless.
"I will," Horst answered seriously. "I'll give him your greetings."
"I don't know which papers and documents are necessary to let you adopt Johann officially, and I don't even think they're valid within the future, but I'll send a letter to Hilda in which I explain my situation and ask her to take care of my nephew from now on. Hopefully this will be enough should she be in need of explaining to the authorities of Johann's presence in her household."
"That's very considering of you, Frau Schwaigel," Schmidt replied. "And please be sure that I'll take care of the sweet imp, too."
A gentle laughter was to hear. "I thought so. I'll try to stay in contact, but no one can say when the Allies will reach our town…and what will happen then. May the Lord be with you and the others, Herr Oberleutnant."
"He'll watch out for us, and I pray that He will do it for you and your children, too." Hilda waved at him, and he nodded in understanding. "Hilda wants to speak with you again. Good bye, Charlotte. Head up. I don't think it will come to the worst." He offered Hilda the receiver.
The two women exchanged a few more words, wished each other faith, and ended the conversation finally. Taking a deep breath, Hilda put the receiver on the telephone. "I feel with her. I know that she loves Manfred, but she has to do what is the best for him." She looked up at Schmidt. "You know of which 'officer' she spoke of?"
"Yes, of Hogan," Horst nodded. "I spoke with him about…well…you and Manfred. And your parents."
Hilda's eyes widened. "You really did? When?"
"On Thursday, as I waited for Sergeant Schultz to return. I brought Colonel Hogan the reports he had to sign, and during that time, I spoke with him."
The young woman frowned. "Do I get this right? You talked with our senior POW officer about my family and I?"
"Yes," Horst affirmed. "I asked him to protect you, Manfred, and your parents. We don't know who will reach Hammelburg first…the Russians or the Americans. I don't know how the Americans are going to treat the people in the towns they seized today, but if Hogan and the other men of the US in your camp are an example for them, then I don't think our civilians have much to fear. Another thing is the Russians. I heard what they did in the east until now and…I wanted to make sure that you and your family will be safe."
Hilda stemmed her fists into her waist. "So, you made a kind of deal with Colonel Hogan? Do I understand you correctly?"
Schmidt observed her and realized that she wasn't really angry, only flabbergasted. "Yes, just like you did, too…right?"
The young woman blinked. "I didn't…" she protested, and he lifted an index finger he put softly on her full lips.
"Ah-ah, sweetheart, no lies. Hogan told me that you asked him to hold 'a protecting hand' above me when the Allies come, and he agreed on it. And he let me know in his inimitable way that he would protect a friend – you – and all who are dear to you, me included." He chuckled, while he slipped both arms around her hips and drew her closer.
Hilda stared at him, and her hand lay on his chest. "He told you that I spoke with him about…" She gasped. "Robert, you tattletale!" she groused indignantly, but Horst could see that she was somehow amused, too.
He laughed softly. "I think he was highly amused that we both asked him to take care of the other."
"Yes, he certainly was. Robert is a prankster – most times, except something serious comes up. Then he grows up all of a sudden and can be almost eerie."
Schmidt smiled down on her, unhappy that he couldn't tell her the truth about the 'prankster'. But as long as the camp was not liberated, he would have to keep Hogan's double life a secret, even from Hilda. No, he didn't think that she would betray the colonel. The two were friends, but she could give him away accidentally. And Horst had to prevent that.
"Then let us hope that he becomes 'eerie' enough should we get into a situation we indeed need his help in. If it comes to the worst, he is our only supporter."
Hilda nodded slowly, sad that she couldn't tell Horst that Hogan was so much more than 'only' a colonel, locked up in a POW camp – that Robert held much more authority than Horst could only guess. But she was used to staying silent about certain things – things even Hogan didn't know about her. And she hoped that the time would come soon in which she could tell both the truth.
Stepping on the tips of her toes, she wanted to give Schmidt a kiss on the cheek, but the young man was quicker. Turning his head in the last second, he caught her lips with his, and then there was nothing to hear for a longer time.
*** HH *** HH ***
"It looks good." Dr. Birkhorn carefully replaced the old mull with a fresh one he lay over the stitched wound. "No inflammation, no swelling, no pus. And the fever has lowered, too." He smiled at Klink, who sat groggily in bed, supported by Hogan's arms. "My colleague was right, Herr Oberst. You have the condition of an ox – or so I would say if I wouldn't have an assumption concerning this incredible immune system you have." He glanced at Hogan while he began to wrap a new bandage around Klink's middle.
Robert grimaced, looked at Wilson and Schultz, and sighed. "Yes, you're right, Doctor. We got some medicine for Will."
Wilhelm, for whom the whole bandage change was an unpleasant procedure, looked with widening eyes at his beloved. To reveal this detail to a third party – Dr. Birkhorn – could be dangerous for Robert and his friends.
Birkhorn continued to apply the dressing. "Let me guess: Penicillin."
"Yes," Hogan nodded.
"From London?"
"Yes…again," the colonel affirmed.
Klink stared at him. "Rob…" Wilhelm began in alert, but the American only smiled at him.
"Calm down, Will. Dr. Birkhorn belongs to the Underground, too."
The Oberst gaped at him. "What?"
Schultz, who already knew this, snorted in amusement. "Someone could think that the half of Hammelburg's people are members of the Underground."
"You almost could think so," Wilson snickered. "But no, most are too afraid to rebel against the madman in Berlin."
"At least until now. And our burgomaster doesn't give us much courage to do anything else," Birkhorn growled, before he straightened his shape. "All done," he declared and pulled Klink's hospital gown down with Hogan's help. "You can lay down again," he said kindly to the Oberst, who sighed in relief as Robert gently lowered him down. Spreading two blankets over Klink, the surgeon continued. "The wound looks good, and the penicillin did some miracles." He glanced at Wilson. "If you have some left of it, reduce the dose to one a day – preferably in the evening so that his body can make full use of it during sleep."
"When can I return to my quarters?" Klink asked.
"Not before the new window is installed and the entire building is warm and cozy," Hogan said firmly. "And don't try to protest. Your welfare is the most important thing now, not the comfort of your quarters."
"Aye, aye, Dr. Hogan – or shall I say, Kommandant Hogan?" Will grumbled.
Birkhorn chuckled, while Schultz lifted one finger. "For now, I'm the Kommandant here." He sighed. "And I don't know if I shall be sad or happy when the new one arrives," he murmured.
"We'll behave, Schultz. Don't worry," Hogan said, with a broad smirk on his face.
"Jolly joker, don't promise something you can't keep. I know you and your boys too well," Hans half teased, half warned.
"Joke aside," Robert became serious again. "When is the earliest time Oberst Klink can return to his quarters? He'll be more comfortable there, you know."
Birkhorn closed his medic bag. "Nice how quickly you change from commanding to diplomacy." He glanced at the American officer. "I think within the next week. I'll look after him tomorrow again and then on Wednesday shouldn't some complications appear." He looked at Wilson. "I trust you to inform me should something change in the Oberst's condition."
"Of course, Doctor. You have my word."
"Good." The surgeon took his bag. "And now I shall return home before this becomes another Sunday my wife only has a fleeing moment with me. I swear the work becomes more and more at the hospital. Any longer, and we'll have to attach another wing to the building."
Hogan cocked his head. "Is it that bad?"
A snort escaped Birkhorn. "Hammelburg is about to get overcrowded with German rooted refugees from Bohemia, Czechia, and other countries in the East. Most people are traumatized. Either they are expelled from the countries they lived in for generations, or they flee from the Russians…and not all are quick enough to make it before they are captured, but can escape afterwards. Our pastor doesn't find a quiet minute anymore. His support is more needed than ever before, and I still don't want to imagine how long those poor women will be haunted by the deeds done to them. Or for how long the children will have nightmares because of what they were forced to watch and witness." He shook his head and headed towards the door.
Hogan exchanged a shocked glance with the others before he called, "Is there anything we can help with?"
The surgeon looked back over his shoulder. "End this war. That's the only thing that will help all those who haven't yet fallen prey to this inhumane cruelness." He bit his lips before he added, "But thank you for asking, Colonel. It shows me that there are still decent men left in this world. Good day, Gentlemen." He left and vanished into the beginning dusk of the late afternoon.
"Good God," Robert whispered, and for a moment, he thought to hear Friedrich Klink's voice in his mind. 'You sit here in this camp safe and sound…' He glanced at nothing. "I think that we're not able to grasp the fortune we're locked away to relative safety," he said softly.
"What do you mean?" Klink asked quietly.
"When I hear the horror the refugees have been through or the battles at the borders where the Grim Reaper captures souls day by day, spreading sorrow through families by taking their loved ones away, I could cry and scream all at once. All the misery, all the grief, all the pain and agony…we're spared of it. Except for my men and I, all the other POWs within this camp are no longer in danger to get killed. They don't have to fear bodily harm, either, because they are protected by the wires and the Geneva Conventions. Yes, we're soldiers, and we're trained to fight for our country, our ideas, and people who need protection. To sit somewhere and watch how others fight our battle is wrong, but our hands are tied – more or less literary. And concerning all my comrades here within the camp, I'm glad that their families will have no reason to mourn their losses."
Wilson smiled at him. This was so typical for Hogan. The welfare of his men outweighed everything else for him.
Schultz sighed. "You're right, Colonel," he said. "I know what you mean – very well, even. I'm glad that my boys are safe like you are here."
Hogan looked up at the large Bavarian. "What do you mean 'my boys are safe'?"
"I thought your oldest sons were studying machine building and engineering in Heidelberg," Wilhelm said softly.
Hans shook his head. "They were forced to leave the university last summer shortly after D-Day. They were summoned, got a short training, and were sent to France where they fought for a few days before being captured by the Americans."
Robert gaped at him. "Schultz…" he gasped. "For God's sake, why didn't you say anything until now? I could have gotten them out, you know."
"And for what, Colonel?" Schultz asked gently. "They only would have been questioned, gotten a clean uniform, and sent to the next border again. No, it's like you said: They're safe now. They are in an American POW camp where they are well cared for. A few letters are allowed, and both wrote us that they are healthy and well treated. A sergeant even shares cigarettes and chocolate with them. They're divided into working troops that clear up debris and rebuilt streets and houses in the small France town nearby. Because both speak French, they also conciliate between the Franzmänner (German nickname for French people), the Amis, and the German POWs. They get enough food, have a warm bed, and my oldest even flirts with a pretty French girl." He shook his head. "No, Colonel, I know you want to help, but my sons are safe where they are. I'm grateful that fate made them fall into American hands and not the Russians. I know that they will survive the war unharmed."
Hogan nodded slowly, smiling a little bit. "If they need something – if you learn that they need support – let me know. You're my friend, and the boys are your sons. If they require aid of any kind, just tell me."
Schultz gave him a big, warm smile. "Danke, Colonel Hogan. I'll remember that – but until now, they get along with everything."
"In which camp are they locked up in?"
"Commando 2225, in Normandy," Schultz answered.
"And what's their given names?"
"My oldest is called Hans Xaver – like I and my father – and the other one is Ludwig Florian – like my late father in law. In short: Hans and Ludwig Schultz."
Hogan pursed his lips. "Okay, I'll try to find out more and make sure that your boys are well."
Wilhelm watched him with tired eyes. "This is so you," he whispered. "If you could, you would save the whole world."
"Some people aren't worth anymore – unfortunately," Robert grumbled. "Or do you think the bubble brain and his goonies are worth to be saved?"
"No, you rather should worry for the devil, because when the bubble beard knocks at Hell's door, Satan will get a real rival in his dorm."
Hogan chuckled. "Maybe the devil does the same like he did with Jack O'Lantern: Denying him entrance to Hell and sending him on a never ending walk through the darkness of eternity. Only enlightened by a piece of Hell coal."
"What?" Will asked, confused. "What sort of legend is that?"
"Ja, I'm curious, too," Schultz nodded, and sat down on the visitor chair.
Wilson began to grin. "Do you have Irish roots, Colonel, or why do you come up with the story behind the pumpkins during Halloween?"
"Hallo…what?" Klink got even more baffled.
Robert smirked now. "Yes, my family has Irish roots and given the story…well, we have winter and not the end of October, but if you like some ghost stories…" He shrugged and began to tell the legend of Jack O'Lantern.
*** HH *** HH ***
Hogan stayed in the infirmary overnight again, sleeping beside Will in the neighbor bed he had pushed beside Klink's to be near him as possible. And not even the guards or other POWs showed any surprise as they saw him leaving the building the next morning before roll call. They were used to seeing the two officers sticking together by now.
Monday morning went by, and Hilda told Schultz that Frau Schwaigel had asked her to adopt Manfred. She went to the infirmary to visit Klink and told him and Hogan the same before she tipped an index finger against the American's chest and said, "One more thing, Robby. If you make deals with others concerning my family and I, you should inform me about it."
Hogan blinked in surprise. "Did Schmidt tell you…"
"Yes, yesterday – after he obviously already promised Frau Schwaigel to strike said deal with you to protect Manfred, but also my family and I. If you two think you can make arrangements behind my back I want to be told about it."
Klink, lying snuggled into the blankets, watched a thunderstruck Hogan and a very firm Hilda Schneider before she blew him a kiss and left.
"Sweet Lord, that woman can be damn eerie sometimes," Rob sighed, combing his fingers through his hair.
Will smiled softly. "Yes, she's very special – and I'm glad to have her here. To say the truth, she more or less runs the camp in her own way."
"To the delight of yours and my men. She's not only a pretty sight to behold, she's also well respected."
Heavy steps drew nearer, and a flushed Schultz entered the infirmary. He looked…upset to put it mildly. "Schultz, what's the matter? Has the new interims Kommandant arrived?" Hogan asked.
The large Bavarian shook his head. "No, he hasn't – and I'm glad about it. If he would have witnessed my fit a few minutes ago, he certainly would have sent me to the next madhouse."
Klink turned his head towards his Sergeant of the Guards. "You – a fit? What happened?"
Hans breathed to calm himself, gulped, and began. "They just broadcasted a new official proclamation. All boys, which were born after or in 1929, have to report to the recruiting offices. They all have to enter the Wehrmacht except ill or injured ones." He looked down on his trembling hands. "My youngest son, Maximilian…he was born on 12th October 1929. The Bub (Bavarian for boy) is only fifteen, but the order will go for him as well." He glanced up, eyes damp. "Max is a gentle soul. Someone who avoids quarrels and trouble. How shall such a child withstand the danger and horror of battles at our borders? He…he doesn't have a chance…"
Klink and Hogan looked shocked at him. "Fifteen or sixteen year old boys…" Robert closed his eyes. "Who came up with such a horrible idea?"
"Himmler, who else," Schultz croaked. "This…this monster is bare of all pity – of all humanity."
Hogan looked at Klink. "Do you think Burkhalter could be of any help?"
Wilhelm shook his head. "No – order is order. General Burkhalter can't intervene without getting into trouble for it. And what is certainly even more crazy is the fact that many boys are eager to fight. They're raised in the 'Hitler Jugend', and they don't know anything else than the trash Hitler, Goebbels, and the others hammered into their heads. The rude awakening will come later when they watch friends and comrades getting hurt or killed…but then it's too late."
Schultz had balled his hands into fists. "Max is…he is too gentle to survive full erupted battles. He…He…" The large Bavarian was at a loss for words.
Hogan bit his lips. "Can you find out where he'll be sent?"
Hans shrugged helplessly. "If he has a chance to write or call before he's sent away, certainly. Otherwise…"
"How is the procedure now?" Robert wanted to know.
"The boys have to report, or they're summoned out of school. A short training to show them where the front and back of a weapon is, and then…" He made a fleeing gesture with his hand.
Will pursed his lips. "The Underground?" he asked Hogan, who puffed in frustration.
"How to get the boy out without the others realizing it and giving him away? Schultz is right; most teens are eager to show the older ones how 'strong' they are. The boys are certainly brainwashed." He shook his head. "No, the only thing we can do is wait until we know where the boy is being transferred to. Then I'll make some calls." He looked up at Schultz. "If there's the tiniest chance to get him to safety, I'll find a way. Promise."
The Sergeant of the Guards nodded, still miserable. "Thank you, Colonel Hogan," he whispered. "To think that Max still sits in school learning math or geography and in a few days he'll be used as canon fodder, I…I could vomit."
Hogan rose and lay a hand on the other man's shoulder to comfort him. "Stay in contact with your wife. As soon as you know where your son is being sent, I'll get active."
Those big, sad eyes looked at him with despair, but also hope and trust, and Robert vowed to himself that he would do everything within his power to help his friend. To send children into battle was murder, nothing else.
But this wasn't the only case in which the regime approved innocent participants could die. Approximately 150 km to the East, hundreds and hundreds of wounded and bleeding feet carried exhausted and half-starved men through the snow, mercilessly urged forwards by their guards clad in grey and black collars, showing the feared scull and bones. Neither the POWs, nor the occupants within Stalag 13, could assume what lay ahead for them.
TBC…
Yes, the Third Reich is surrounded by more and more opponents and breaks down bit by bit – good so. Of course it brings misery to the civilians and therefore for the people in the background of the main-characters of the TV-show and my own created characters, but this is a part of everything.
The camp where Schultz's oldest sons are kept, was real, and even if Hogan really wants to help Hans concerning the youngest son, everything spirals out of control soon.
Yet, despite the partly darker states, I hope you liked the new chapter – including Fritz having a family heart for once and even baffling Hogan because of it, and including the rest of it.
Like always, I'm looking SOOOO forward to your feedback.
Have a nice weekend,
Love
Yours Starflighta
