Hi, my dear rearders,
I hope, you're all well and healthy and that the same goes for your family and friends. This damn virus reaches out to more and more people, and the large number of infected and died ones is scaring. I pray that at least you all are safe.
Distraction is maybe a little possibility to get the thoughts driven into another direction, and therefore off we go to the story.
Thank you so much for the feedback; I'm glad that the story gives you a little comfort even if it is about a dark time, too. Yet there are lights like love, loyalty and friendship in it, so it shows that nothing is really completely dark.
I hope, you're going to enjoy the next chapter.
Have fun,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 84 – To expect the unexpected
The effort to help the newcomers didn't stop. In the late afternoon many of them woke up and needed to relieve themselves, but were also hungry and thirsty. There was no chance that the usual POWs of Stalag 13, the guards, and the medical personnel would have an early evening.
Schmidt and Fuhrmann were still there, and both helped in the former mess-hall and casino. Horst didn't know how many hungry mouths he fed or how many bottles of water he poured down thirsty throats, but all of sudden a hand was laid on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Hogan standing beside him.
"Here you are," Robert said quietly, gratitude in his eyes. "Kleiber and Langenscheidt are searching the whole camp for you."
Schmidt frowned. "Why?"
"Burkhalter ordered Hartmann to stay in Hammelburg in the Gestapo- and SS-HQ until tomorrow. The decision was made half an hour ago. Hartmann's driver hasn't shown up until now, and without the newcomers' files, Burkhalter won't let him leave the area, but also doesn't want him to stay in our camp overnight. As it seems, after I told Burkhalter what Hartmann did today, not to speak of the last few weeks, he's pissed off."
"You…spoke with General Burkhalter?" Schmidt asked, surprised. "The general is here?"
"No, he's in Berlin, but he called when I was in Klink's office, and because no one was there to pick up the phone, I did it," Robert shrugged, grinning. Okay, Schultz had given him an earful before he dismissed him, and Hogan could understand his Bavarian friend, but in the end, it had been an advantage for all of them.
Horst stared at him and snorted in amusement. "You answered the general's call?" He chuckled. "Let me guess, he was not amused to have you on the line."
"He was surprised, to say it carefully," Hogan laughed softly. "After I told him what happened to the POWs of Camp 64 and that Hartmann even tried to ignore Schultz's authority, forcing Klink to leave bed, the Sacher cake got some knickers in his boxers. And he let Hartmann feel it." Robert smirked again. "It's almost like eating honey to see the bastard squirming and complaining about being forced to remain in Hammelburg."
Horst grinned before he asked, "What about Hartmann's men?"
Hogan's smile became evil. "I put a flea into Schultz's ear and told him that the SS-group would only bring a lot of disturbance and even turmoil into the camp – more than we've already had to shoulder. They would eat our scarce nourishment, so Schultz called the townhall and spoke with the burgomaster. Hartmann's men will stay overnight in the Agrarian School in Hammelburg. The building was already closed for the students to make room for expected fugitives from the East, and Hartmann's men can stay there – including a formidable dinner made of oat meat soup, bread, and water."
Robert all but bobbed up and down on his toes, the smirk on his face broadening even more.
Schmidt began to laugh. "You can be very evil sometimes, Colonel."
Lifting one shoulder, Robert replied wryly, "We have no space left in our camp, and the dorms are all occupied by our own guards, so Hartmann's men can be glad to have a real roof above their heads and not have to sleep in the tents Burkhalter sent."
Cocking his head, Horst teased, "You're saying 'our' guards, 'we,' and 'our camp'. Be careful, Colonel. Someone could think that you're on the German payroll."
Shaking his head and lifting both hands in defense, Robert commented back, "I'm only working on voluntary basis at the moment. And what would I do with German money? It really isn't suitable as wallpaper."
Schmidt rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me," he grumbled, but mischief shimmered in his eyes. He looked down at the man he was helping get some nourishment and said to Hogan, "Can you take my place, please? I have to give Fuhrmann the orders so that our trucks can take Hartmann and his men to Hammelburg."
"Of course," Hogan nodded, and switched places with Schmidt, ready to feed the young corporal who looked at him with disbelievingly big eyes. "At ease, m'boy. Just eat your soup." He lifted a spoon against the man's lips.
"B-b-b-but you…you're a-a-a-a colonel," the newcomer whispered.
"Yes, and last time I checked I'm also a homo-sapiens like you, so forget the rank for now." He smiled encouragingly at the corporal. "Come on, eat something – or you'll offend our cook LeBeau. And believe me, a grousing Frenchman is even more difficult than a calm one."
Schmidt smiled as he watched the colonel's change from a gleeful, oversized boy to a caring father figure, handling the young man with gentleness. 'This man has so many facets you get dizzy just thinking of them,' he mused, went to his jacket and coat, slipped into them, and left the building. And for the first time, he thought it was no wonder Klink had fallen for his American counterpart like this.
*** HH ***
Of course, Hartmann was not happy about the given order, but he had no choice. Yes, he thought Burkhalter was nuts, but even he didn't dare to voice disobedience. So, a quarter hour later, he climbed onto one of the SS-trucks in the passenger seat, while the first group of his men sat down on the cargo beds. Fuhrmann waved at Schmidt before the sergeant drove away. The rest of Hartmann's men would be picked up in groups.
Fuhrmann drove the truck in silence, while the SS-major sat beside him brooding. The sergeant had lifelong experiences with men like Hartmann and avoided talking at all. The sooner they were in Hammelburg, the better. Then he remembered that Hartmann was ordered to stay in the HQ – in other words, Fuhrmann would have to make sure that the man would get a guestroom and dinner. He could already hear the major's complaints.
"The town limit begins only here?" Hartmann's voice tore Fuhrmann out of his thoughts. They drove along Pfaffenhausener Street between the Fränkische Saale River and the low field hills to the left nearing Hammelburg. The old town hall, the old and broad Saale Bridge, and the towers of the Red Castle on the other side of the river were already within sight as they passed the city limit sign.
"Here begins the town's district, yes," Fuhrmann nodded, already knowing the reason for Hartmann's outburst. Yet he asked, "Why?"
The SS-major turned towards him with angry eyes. "Your superior had no authority back there!" He flipped a thumb backwards. "He lied as he…"
"I beg your pardon, but you're mistaken," Fuhrmann interrupted him, glad that the man took the bait while he sorted out the matter for Schmidt. "The Stapo's (town-police) authority ends at the town limit, but not jurisdiction of the Gestapo. And Oberleutnant Schmidt is the commanding officer of the local SS- and Gestapo-Headquarters, so – yes – his authority also remains valid for the whole environment of Hammelburg and the towns hinterland. It even includes the nearby villages and ends near the town limits of Schweinfurt." He looked away from the street and the man beside him. "Oberleutnant Schmidt is responsible for the whole district." He glanced back at the road. "And the Gestapo never declares itself to anybody – only to the Reichsführer and the Reichskanzler. But if you have any doubts left, I'm sure that a call to Berlin will elucidate everything. Oberleutnant Schmidt was promoted by the Reichsführer himself, and Himmler certainly can spare some time to defend his protegee and explain to you the rules and orders of the town-police, the police part of the SS and the Gestapo."
Hartmann gritted his teeth and sourly looked out the front window flushing. Fuhrmann balled his fist inwardly in triumph. He may have exaggerated Schmidt's influence and value in Berlin, but it was something Hartmann didn't need to know. Let him assume that he was facing one of the Reichsführer's protegees in Schmidt. Like that, any more trouble would be nipped in the bug.
He couldn't have known how wrong he was. Hartmann belonged to those men who didn't accept any kind of defeat and looked for revenge if he lost. You always meet twice – and the second meeting in the not so far away future would demand everything from Schmidt, Fuhrmann, and their secret allies in Stalag 13, which became more and more their friends.
*** HH ***
After Hartmann left, the controlled chaos in the camp continued. Schultz was still waiting for the files, and Schmidt had ordered Fuhrmann to start a search for Hartmann's driver shouldn't the man show up 'til eight o'clock in the evening. Hogan's inner bells began to ring in alert as he learned about it a quarter hour later.
"Give the man some time and begin the search tomorrow shouldn't he show up. The streets are damaged and a torment to use, so…" Hogan stopped as Schmidt turned towards him, raising a brow. They were outside in the compound so that no one could hear them.
"What's so bad about tonight?" Horst asked, knowing the American too well by now.
Hogan sighed. "We're expecting some air parcels," he answered.
"What?" Schmidt's eyes became wide.
"Medication for the ill newcomers." Robert added quietly.
Flabbergasted, the Oberleutnant stared at him. "Simply like that?"
"Simply like that," the colonel nodded. "I spoke with London, and they're sending penicillin and wide range antibiotics."
The young man combed his fingers through his already tousled hair and snorted. "Who are you for real that you only need to snap your fingers and London does what you want?"
"Colonel Robert Edward Hogan – and Papa Bear," the American officer replied innocently, with a hidden grin.
"Yeah, and maybe in truth the American President's son."
Hogan had to laugh at this joke. "No, but let me put it like this. I have a fatherly mentor who has some influences. Even if he isn't in London at the moment, the brass knows better than to mess with me." He winked at Schmidt, then he turned serious again. "We're still waiting for London to give us a detailed appointment, but it will be sometime during the night. It will be a few boxes we have to smuggle into camp and don't need any of your men sniffing around for a missing driver."
Schmidt rolled his eyes. "I said to Fuhrmann that I would call him should the driver doesn't appear, so I'll tell him that the search will start tomorrow." He sighed and gave Hogan a glare. "You really have a nag of mixing up everything, don't you?"
The colonel cocked his head and sheepishly grinned. "Yeah, that's me."
"Poor Oberst Klink. He should have known it better to get involved with you – maybe he not only loves you, but also the challenge you constantly represent." The last part was spoken with a very dry tone.
"What?" Hogan stared in high alert at him, and Schmidt grimaced.
"Please give me some credit here, Colonel. After all, I'm trained to look behind façades and masks. That you two are madly in love with each other chirp the birds from the roof. I swear when you two are interacting, others are in great danger of getting diabetes." He winked at a thunderstruck Hogan, grinned, and walked towards the Kommandantur; whistling as if he had played a successful prank. He had taken the big master spy by surprise…again.
Robert pushed his cap into his neck, combed the unruly lock off his forehead, and took a very deep breath while he watched Schmidt entering the Kommandantur. Dammit. Caught again. He and Klink had to be more careful. Thank the Lord that Schmidt seemed to be okay with it, but others wouldn't be.
Sighing deeply, Hogan turned away and headed to Barracks 2. Maybe London had given the appointment now.
*** HH ***
Hilda's father kept his word and showed up shortly before roll call happened, bringing the straw on a trailer that was pulled by a tractor. And he wasn't alone. Seven more tractors came one by one, each one carrying four or five straw bales. As the farmers in the hinterland had learned from Schnitzer why the straw was needed and heard about the inhumane walk the US officers and privates were forced to make, they brought food. Nothing big, but sacks with potatoes and carrots, eggs, glasses with marmalade and cabbages were on the trailers and brought to the camp's kitchen stock.
Hogan felt touched. He knew that the German civilians hadn't much supplies anymore, yet they helped. Of course, he also knew that they took into consideration that the war was as good as lost and the Allies would soon take over. If they helped American POWs, they hoped for some help in return later, and Hogan would make certain that their willingness to support the camp would be repaid. Calculus or not, but without additional food, the camp would be in trouble soon. He assumed that this would nevertheless be the case, but for the next few days they didn't need to worry.
He thanked Herr Schneider and the other farmers, among them Obermeyer; the man who had given him and Klink shelter in early January after Hochstetter tried to kidnap Hogan, and both colonels were forced to tramp through the forest. Speaking in halting German, Hogan exchanged thanks and a few kind words with him and the others before he left for Schultz and Schmidt – the latter seeming to have no intention of leaving the camp soon.
Dozens of POWs unloaded the straw and brought it to the former motor pool, covering the muddy ground with it before they put the tables and chairs back. The straw that was left over was stocked outside and covered with tarps from the delivered tents.
But even after the farmers left, and Schmidt took Hilda home in his car while following her father's tractor, no routine set in.
"You can't order all of us out onto the compound, Schultz," Hogan said for consideration. "They're needed by the newcomers, you know."
Hans was ready to fall asleep on his feet, and he felt beaten, but he knew his duties. "Colonel Hogan, after such a chaotic day, I have to make a proper roll call. What if…"
"Then let the men be counted in the Barracks and…"
"You know very well that the men are everywhere but their Barracks," Schultz cut in and pinched his nose. "If you all hurry up for once to form into ordered lines, roll call will be done within ten minutes. In the meantime, a few of our guards are in the shelters should the newcomers need something. Deal?"
Hogan grimaced, but nodded. "Deal," he grumbled.
It worked. For once roll call was done not even in fifteen minutes, and Schultz didn't waste any time with long speeches. He thanked all of them for the efforts they made and announced that because of the many men who would need help during the evening, curfew was suspended until eleven o'clock if he got the colonel's promise that the POWs wouldn't use the special arrangement to cause trouble. Hogan gave his word as an officer and gentlemen, and the other men grumbled their agreement.
Finally dismissed, a lot of the POWs returned to their new comrades to take care of them, others did the same in their Barracks or went to the new 'mess hall' to have a quick dinner.
Hogan returned to Barracks 2. Two of the newcomers were awake, but too tired to tell him a lot. They got some dinner while sitting on their beds before lying down again, falling asleep within seconds.
"London called," Kinchloe whispered towards Hogan, after he climbed out of the tunnels. "The air packages can be expected between 2 and 3 a.m."
"Why always in the middle of the night?!" LeBeau groused. "Mon Dieu, as if we didn't already get little sleep."
"Thanks to the Krauts, our boys can only bring deliveries during the night, and even then it's a big risk," Robert sighed. "But if you're too tired from all the cooking and carrying the big pots, then stay here and…"
"Are you trying to offend me, mon Colonel?" LeBeau crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave his friend and superior a sharp glare. "As if I would be tired because of making some soup. And if the boys everywhere in this camp need a few shots of medicine, then I'm the last one who wouldn't do anything to help them."
"Then why are you complaining at all?" Newkirk asked, smoking his cigarette.
"I'm not complaining, I only said that London robs us of more sleep than…"
"So, you are tired." Peter teased.
"He's right." Carter nodded.
"Shouldn't you be with Klink to babysit him?" Louis snapped.
"Klink is old enough to be on his own for once, and the Lt. Colonel and others are deep asleep," Andrew defended himself.
"What if one of them wakes up, searches the restrooms, and stumbles into Klink's bedroom? You know how easily startled our Willie is," Robert said slowly.
Carter rolled his eyes. "Colonel, I know that you worry for him, and that's okay. But he's a grown man, so imagine what you would think about a babysitter if you were in his place." For once the young man sounded like an adult.
"I already was in his place," Hogan sighed, but gave it a rest. Hearing Newkirk and LeBeau still bantering, he blended them out before he addressed Kinchloe. "Did London say something concerning Connor, Harrison, and Elison?" He asked.
"They're clean, sir. Best reputation. London was relieved that Connor made it. They had no information about his whereabouts after he and the others were caught until now. He had a stellar career so far, and Eisenhower in person promoted him before Connor landed in the Normandy. He and Harrison have been friends for a few years now, and concerning Elison…well, he's an old warhorse. Liked and respected within the troop, and an old school friend of Connor's father."
Hogan nodded. "Elison said that Connor is his godson."
"Well, that explains his hell bent will to protect the Lt. Colonel," Kinch murmured. "Of what I saw after their arrival, there is more than duty that connects them. Godson and godfather – Connor can be glad that he and Elison were brought into the same camp together with Harrison. I think those three gave the others the strength to carry on."
Hogan smiled. Yes, how much a group of close friends could encourage others was clearly seen within Stalag 13. He was aware of the fact that he and his core team were the reason for the casual atmosphere among the other prisoners.
"What about the men who are sleeping next door?"
"We don't even know their names. I hope we can speak with them tomorrow. Then I'll radio London and let them check it through. I want to be on the safe side when it comes to our operation and when we vanish and come out of the tunnels under the newcomers' eyes. We already had a few surprises, and I don't want a repeat."
"Guess who too," Robert deadpanned before he clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Okay, I'll come from Klink's quarters around 1 a.m."
"Poor Kommandant. It always scares him when you're out on a mission," Kinch teased, but he was also serious.
"Yeah, I know how much he worries for me. But I think he and I have to be more careful. Schmidt looked through us and told me straight in the face how sweeten up everything is when Will and I are in one room."
Kinchloe's eyes widened. "He knows…"
"He bluntly said that he was schooled to look behind masks – and Klink's and mine weren't so perfect within the last few days. Of course, our young friend had to realize the truth. He's anything but stupid." He sighed. "At least he seems to be okay with it – even pulled my leg." He shook his head. "I'm certain that 90% of our troops, all the brass members, and everyone else would scream bloody murder if it came out that Klink and I are lovers. And here, in this crazy camp, everyone's okay with it – including a SS-lieutenant, chief doctor, fair woman, and a religious Bavarian." He shook his head chuckling. "The world really has become crazy. In this case, I have to agree with Burkhalter."
Kinch smirked. He always would have Hogan's back no matter what. And if his friend had fallen for an official enemy who was even of the same gender, so be it. They were men who were far more off the way than Robert Hogan.
*** HH *** HH ***
As Robert stepped into Klink's quarters, the lights in the sleeping room and floor lamp in the living room were switched on. Except for some snores coming from the guestroom and the sofa, it was quiet. Hogan walked deeper into the building and glanced into the sleeping room.
Klink lay in bed and put a book aside as he heard nearing steps. His heart bolted as he saw the beloved face in the semi dark, the black tousled hair, the soft brown eyes, and the gentle smile around his expressive lips.
"Hey," Robert greeted and entered. "How are you?"
"Almost bored out of my mind," Will sighed. "As long as Carter was here, I had someone to talk to, but afterwards…"
Hogan chuckled quietly. "Roll call, you know. No exceptions." Mischief began to shimmer in his eyes. "And there I thought you would be relieved as Carter left. He's one of the biggest chatter boxes I ever met."
Klink smiled. "Yes, he talks a lot, but he's a nice boy. Has more on the ball than I gave him credit for. I know that he's highly intelligent. When you tinker with explosive stuff, you have to have a rather high IQ, otherwise you don't have to fear grey hears – or getting bald like me – because you don't live up to the day to get old. But besides his love for everything that detonates, I ascertained that he is widely read, and he has a good heart."
Something like fatherly pride woke in Robert. "You like him," he stated, while slipping out of his leather bomber jacket and put his crush cap on the dresser.
"Yes, I do. Here and there he's a little naïve, but he was able to save some carefreeness – even if it sounds odd, given the fact that he busts up bridges, railways, streets, and so on."
A chuckle escaped Rob. "Well, his carefreeness gave me the first greys," he pointed at his temples. "But you're right. If you remember that he's here for more than three years and has anything but easy job, he's remained almost boyish."
"Careful, Rob. Who sits in a glass house shouldn't throw stones," Klink teased him. Then he turned serious again. "How is the situation outside?"
Hogan sighed and sat down on the wingback chair on the edge. "Too serious for my liking," he replied, and gave Klink a short update. Will pressed his lips into a thin line as the younger man came to an end and took a deep breath.
"Seeing that we were steamrolled with the whole thing, we have managed better than feared so far. Yet I'm worried for the sick men. Spotted fever is no trifle, and bronchitis can lead to pneumonia or even myocarditis. The men are so weakened that their bodies can barely rise any defense against the pathogens."
Robert nodded and knew that this was the best time to tell Will about the nightly mission he and the others had to make. "Concerning the disease…well, LeBeau, Newkirk, Carter, five of the other boys, and I are making a little trip tonight." Instantly Klink lifted his head in alert, but Rob gave him a reassuring smile. "Relax, hon; we're only picking up a few parcels we're getting via air delivery. London's sending wide range antibiotics and penicillin for the sick men. Dr. Birkhorn will return tomorrow for treatment."
Wilhelm stared at him. "London sending those medications for…how many? Two hundred men?"
"Yeah. Everyone gets two shots; more can't be arranged at the moment. The British hospitals are full of casualties, and the US are already helping them with medicine, yet the next delivery has still to arrive."
A deep sigh escaped the Kommandant. "And to help the ill newcomers, you and your friends are riding for a fall – again."
"Will, you know I have no other choice. These men's lives depend on the delivery tonight. I have to go," Hogan said softly, a smile around his lips.
"Ja, schon klar (it's clear)," Wilhelm murmured. "And I lay in this damn bed and worry my head off for you – with three hostile officers next door." He looked back at Hogan. "You can't leave me alone with them. They don't know that I belong to the good guys and…"
Robert began to laugh. "Don't tell me that the great Iron Eagle is afraid of three exhausted men." Promptly, Will began to pout and gave him imploring puppy eyes. Hogan continued to chuckle, but pure tenderness appeared in his gaze. "Don't try and play me, Willie. You know that I look through you. You only want to keep me in the camp to shield me from danger." He rose, sat down on the bed's edge, and took Will's long elegant fingers in his own. "Don't be afraid, Phoenix. The delivery's coming the same way as the others did within the last few months. We creep out of camp, get the parcels, and hide them in the tunnels 'til after morning roll call. It's easier than usual for us to slip away with the guards being so tired."
"Yet I don't like it," Klink grumbled.
"Believe me, I would prefer to remain here and have a fitful sleep after all the hard work, stress, and emotional rollercoaster I went through, especially today. But those men need this medicine. It would be a disaster that they made it so far only to fall prey to disease because my team and I rather stay in bed instead of getting help." His voice was still gentle, but also spoke of determination.
Wilhelm groaned. "I know that I can't stop you, and I understand you better than you maybe think, but…every time you leave the camp in secret you risk getting caught and killed." He tightened his fingers around Robert's. "I fear for you."
"I'm aware of it, and I'm sorry to worry you – again. But these are my comrades. I have to help them – or do you really want me to let them die?"
"What?" Klink stared baffled at him. "You know exactly I would never demand something like that from you – or would let down my men when it's up to me to save them." He sighed anew. "I hate this – to be forced to let you go because there is no other choice, and staying back sick with worry."
Rob gave him a warm smile. "It was the same for me as you were in Berlin, and I learned about the planned air raid – or when I recognized Hochstetter creeping into your quarters, and the distance between this building and Barracks 2 seemed to lengthen with every step I ran." He bent down. "It will be better when the war is over. Promise." He gave him a soft kiss and winked at him before he rose. "Hungry?"
"That's a joke, right? First you tell me that you're risking your neck tonight again, and then you ask me if I want something to eat?" The pouting was back.
Hogan grinned. "Believe me; a stomach is more agreeable when it has something to digest."
"Or it adds heavy load to it," Klink mumbled.
Laughing again, Hogan again stole a kiss from his beloved before he went to the kitchen to get Will and himself some dinner.
*** HH *** HH ***
Hartmann's driver didn't show up in the camp that evening, and it was clear that Schmidt would start a search the next day. Usually Hogan wouldn't care if some documents vanished or not, but in this case, he wanted to know how many losses were to mourn and who had fallen prey to the march. Sure, as soon as the new comrades felt better, they would tell whom they lost and how, yet it would last days until most would come around, and the sooner London got the facts, the better. The families of the victims had a right to learn what happened to fathers, brothers, sons, or nephews, and Hogan would make certain that they got the sad message within a short range of time.
From the three newcomers in Klink's quarters, only Harrison had woken up shortly, but fell asleep only a minute later after Hogan assured him that he and the others were safe. That none of them woke up to get something to eat showed just how exhausted they were.
Hogan had used the secret entrance behind the stove, met with his friends and five volunteers in the tunnels, and left Stalag 13 through the tree trunk. The only one who remained in Barracks 2 was Kinch, who was in charge of the hut despite the fact that five newcomers, who slept in Hogan's usual quarters, were officers.
It was no problem to slip out of camp and reach the wide field in the middle of nowhere – the same place they had received past deliveries. Robert and his team had to wait almost an hour until they heard the aircraft landing on the frozen ground. Because larger parcels wouldn't fit through the secret entrance to the tunnels, and the brass knew of it, London sent a dozen small packages that couldn't come by parachute. There was no way for Hogan and his men to take all the parachutes with them. The plane landed, and the men unloaded it quickly.
It felt good to meet some comrades which weren't POWs, and Hogan used the short time his men needed to get the parcels to talk with the pilots. A quarter hour later, he and the others headed back towards Stalag 13, while the aircraft took off again. None spoke about it, but they all felt some yearning to fly away with the iron bird – back to London and home to the US. Even Robert had felt a soft tug in his heart and soul despite his deep love for Will.
They returned to a very silent camp. Most guards in the watch towers seemed to have dozed of, the spotlights were trained on the compound and not moving for once. Even the dogs snored.
It was an easy game for Hogan and the others to enter the tunnels and stock the boxes with the medications there. To smuggle them to the infirmary and other buildings would be tricky, but they would manage – like always.
On silent feet, Robert returned to Klink's quarters, carefully moved the stove, crept out of the hole, pushed the stove back, and tiptoed to the sleeping room. To keep up the pretense, Hogan had asked for a field bed that could be placed beside Klink's, and Schultz had ordered to bring it from the backroom of the Kommandantur to the little building.
Will and he had decided to let the floor lamp in the living room be switched on in case that one of their 'housemates' woke up. Of course, the men would be confused, and to prevent any accident from happening, Klink had come up with the idea. He remembered very well how much some small light helped Robert after being traumatized in Hochstetter's clutches. Torture wore many faces, and what the newcomers went through certainly classified as the definition of it.
Wilhelm was awake when Robert returned and lifted his head as he heard the quiet steps. He sighed in relief as the beloved voice whispered, "It's me. Everything went fine."
"Thank the Lord," Will murmured back, reached out, and switched on the little lamp on the nightstand. Hogan blinked because of the sudden brightness, but smiled at the older man while he began to change into his pajamas.
"Everything calm here?" he asked, and the Oberst nodded.
"They're quiet like mice," he sighed. "It shows how tired they are."
"Ask who, too," Robert grumbled and yawned before slipping into his pajamas and beneath the blanket. He grimaced. "Dammit, these field beds are no replacement for a real bed – not even for a bunk."
"Scoot over," Will offered, which earned him a glare.
"You know that we can't sleep in the same bed as long as the guys are next door." He rubbed his face. "Your offer that they can stay here for a few days was generous, but it robs us of sleeping together – and me of finding a fitful rest at all."
"Don't wail, my witty fox. Tomorrow when they're doing better, we'll lock the door, and then you can sleep here again," Klink suggest.
"A good prospect – if it works, that's that."
Hogan didn't need to fear for finding no fitful night rest within the next few days. The following day something would happen that gave him a very good excuse to sleep beside the older man again.
*** HH ***
It was semi-dark. It was warm, and it was cozy… No, this here was certainly not some street, bank, or hut where they had spent their nights within the last few weeks. This here was…pleasant. Just like being back in Camp 64 – or even better, at home. Yet one thing was still the same: He was incredible tired. His limbs seem to weigh tons, and there was a bad taste in his mouth, not to forget the unpleasant stench that spoke of unwashed bodies and dirty clothes.
Connor needed more than a minute to open his eyes, and even double the time to recognize that some dim light streamed from behind him and he was looking at a wooden wall, a window with closed curtains, and that someone was pressed against his back. One arm was wrapped around him. Lifting his head, he recognized Brady's strong, weathered hand. His godfather slept behind him and held him; just like he had done non-stop since they had left the camp and forced to walk towards the southeast of Germany.
The next matter that confused Ryan was the presence of furniture of fine style. A chair, a dresser, a large stove – and carpeting. This really didn't look like they were in some Barracks. And the bed was…well, almost king sized.
Turning his head, Connor saw a half open door that led to another room, and from where the dim light came a wardrobe was beside the entrance. It almost looked like a flat or a house. But what was not odd was the natural urge that rose in him.
Carefully not to wake Brady, he lifted the older man's arm away, removed the thick, woolen blanket, and put his sock clad feet on the floor. Every movement hurt, and he felt cold, but he had to use some the restrooms regardless. Rising on unsteady feet, he limped around the bed towards the door, dizzy with exhaustion and rising hunger.
He didn't know what to expect, but certainly not what was presented in the semi-darkness. It was a living and dining room well-furnished and with some paintings on the wall. A chess board was set up on a separate little table, two crossed swords and a crest decorated another wall, and on a dresser was a telephone. Then his gaze found the grey uniform coat at the cloak hanger and a cap that told him who lived there: a Luftwaffe officer. What were Brady and him doing in a German officer's quarters?
Something was nagging at the edge of his memories… A voice that ordered that he and the others should be shown to a guestroom… A guestroom in the Kommandant's quarters…
Connor frowned. This couldn't be, could it? Was he really in…
Soft snoring distracted him and he tiptoed deeper into the room. He recognized Harrison, who lay on a sofa covered with a similar woolen blanket like Connor and Elison had gotten, and was deep asleep. This here was becoming more and more mysterious.
Turning around again, Ryan saw two more doors. Through one he recognized a stove and a fridge: The kitchen. The other one was half closed – maybe the bathroom. A place he really needed right now. Heading quietly to the second door, he pushed it open and stopped dead in his tracks.
There was another large bed where a balding man in his middle forties or early fifties slept. And beside it was a field bed where another male was slumbering – younger, with dark, tousled hair and…and somehow, he had seen both men's faces before. But everything that happened between him climbing off the truck with the last group of POWs and waking up a few minutes ago was all a haze.
He didn't know what gave him away, but soon the younger man of the two sleepers was wide awake and looked up at him. Instinctively, Connor tensed up, but began to relax as he heard the other male addressing him in American English. "You okay?"
*** HH ***
Hogan had been deep in dreamland, but his fine senses had felt that someone was approaching. To live for almost three years in the middle of enemy territory left its tracks – especially in Hogan's 'job'. It was no wonder that an inner voice gave alert and woke him up. Seeing the lonely, bearded, and unsteady figure at the door, he was instantly awake.
"You okay?" he asked quietly, while pulling away the comforter and sitting up.
"Y-y-yes," Connor whispered, confused.
Robert smiled and rose. "That's good to hear." He closed the distance to the other man and ignored the unpleasant reek. "Do you need something, Lt. Colonel Connor?"
The younger officer frowned, then he began to slowly remember. "Colonel Hogan, right?"
Nodding kindly, Rob offered him his hand. "Robert Hogan. Welcome to Stalag 13. I don't think you remember much from your arrival yesterday." They shook hands for a moment before Connor murmured,
"Sir, may I ask why I'm here – in a German officer's quarters?"
Rob threw a short glance over his shoulder at a sleeping Will, then replied softly, "Colonel Klink offered you, your godfather, and Lieutenant Harrison shelter in his quarters until a better solution can be found. We only learned of you and your men's arrival a few days before you showed up, and the preparations for new Barracks are in full progress."
"Yes, I remember that this SS-lieutenant mentioned something like this." He moistened his lips. Despite the growing urge to relieve himself, he first had to know something. "My men – how are they?"
Hogan felt another smile tugging at his mouth. This was a commanding officer to his liking – someone who thought first of his men. "They're all accommodated and well-cared for. We put the ill ones in the infirmary and other buildings which were vacated for your use. The others are sheltered in our barracks. It's tight like in a sardine can, but for two or three weeks we can manage. Until then, the new Barracks will be risen." He saw how the younger man shifted from one foot to the other and realized what Connor's problem was. He nodded towards the bathroom. "Come with me," he ordered softly, opened the door, and switched on the light.
Sink, toilette, shower cabin with curtain – everything Connor had began to dream of was there.
Beside the sink was a small side table on which three toothbrushes, toothbrush glasses, and combs were placed together with soap, shampoo, and wash clothes. "We got them from the Red Cross the day prior to yesterday," Hogan explained with a hushed voice. "The same was delivered for your men, so don't worry. Just use the toilette and take a long shower. Towels to your right behind the door." He looked around the door frame at the nightstand where the alarm clock was. "There's no need to hurry. Two hours until roll call, and you and the others are exempted of attending for the few next days."
Connor stared with big eyes at him, barely able to believe the small luxury that was offered. "Thank you, sir," he said softly.
"You're welcome. Just try to get clean and…one moment." Hogan vanished and returned a few moments later with some white material in his hands. "Here; my second pair of pajamas. Just change into it after the shower, wrap your clothes into the used shower towel, and leave it on the floor beside the bathtub. My men will wash and save what's left from your clothes in the morning."
Thunderstruck, Connor took the pajamas and frowned as he realized what it was made of. "This is parachute silk," he said, baffled.
"Yeah…Klink allowed one of my men to sew this for me after I was in need of a second pair, because I went through a longer healing process after being tortured and had to stay in bed. A second pair of pajamas comes really in handy then – not only for me, but also for the other's nose." He saw the alert on the younger man's face and waved it off. "No need to freak out. The guy who tortured me is dead. He was sent to a firing squad after Klink saved me, so…" He shrugged.
"What happened?" Connor wanted to know, and Hogan chuckled softly.
"It's a long story I'll tell you later. Now try to get clean. LeBeau will take care of your hair and beard during the morning." He smiled at the Lt. Colonel and closed the door. Combing his fingers through his tousled hair, he sighed. As it seemed, the night was over for him.
TBC…
Well, of course Schmidt had to let the cat out of the bag at some point, and would confront Hogan about him and Klink. I imagine that this was quite satisfying for Schmidt to proof the master spy 'Papa Bear' that even he can be surprised and outsmarted. And, at least, Schmidt is okay with our two lovebirds.
In the next chapter, the three newcomer in Klink's quarters come to meet the Oberst with their minds more clear, and they will think to be in a parallel world when they hear the two highest ranking officers within those wires interacting with each other.
Then the big washing and cleaning concerning the newcomers begin, and Hogan realizes quickly that the camp's technic will not hold up to the supply a thousand men more. So ideas and enlargements are needed what is, of course, what makes Hogan being completely in his element. And in the middle of the whole action Burkhalter creeps into the office, getting the shock of his life to find the camp's current leading staff and some of the POWs, Hogan in the front, working hand in hand…
I hope, you enjoyed the new chapter, including the fun and the fluff. Like always, I'm looking forward to your comments.
Have a peaceful Sunday,
Love
Yours Starflight
