Hi, my dear readers,

Like every weekend you get now the next update. I'm glad that you liked the last chapter so much, and I'm sure that you're going to enjoy the first part of the new one, too, before it gets a little bit dramatical, because Klink is learning about the true face of the 'working camp' in Poland.

Thank you so much for the feedback,

Enjoy the new chapter,

Love

Yours Starflight

Chapter 93 – Difficult talks

As Schultz called for the evening roll call in Stalag 13, he would never have imagined the position his youngest son found himself in. Max had apologized to General Butler after Greenhill's wryly comment, but he didn't get any further, because a moment later the general had been called down to the main doors again. General Major Culin had arrived to greet the higher ranking staff officer properly and to show him around. With a, "We'll talk this evening," towards Max, Butler had left; a still snickering Lalley on his heels, who even winked at the boy before he followed his superior.

The same time Schultz's senior demanded the report from Langenscheidt, Greenhill entered Milford's sick-room, where Max sat and asked him to accompany him.

"Where to?" the boy asked, clearly nervous at the corporal's formal behavior.

"General Butler wants to speak with you," David replied, and as he saw Max paling, he placed a hand on the teen's shoulder. "Don't fret, buddy. The general is known to be a rather kind man, and I'm sure he won't tear your head off. After all, you only had the best interests for one of us in your mind, so don't be afraid of any punishment. I think the general is simply curious. He, and the others, too."

"The others?" Max squeaked.

Greenhill's face betrayed his sympathy. "The general isn't alone. Half of the current command staff is here, and everyone wants to finally meet you in person. You got yourself quite a reputation."

The boy gulped. "Oh Gott," he whispered. "Mom was right. I really should start to think before I act."

David laughed softly. "Please don't. The last outcomes show that listening to your gut-feeling is better for all of us."

"Yeah, and just look where it brought me; into the middle of a whole US officer meeting," the teen groaned.

Clapping the boy's shoulder, the corporal replied, "Head up; they won't eat you."

Sighing, Max threw a last glance over his shoulder – John was deeply asleep – and followed Greenhill through the large building. They crossed the entrance area and headed to the other wing of the building. The little Schultz frowned. "Does the general stay here overnight?"

"Yes, just like the other officers. It is far from being comfortable with no real water supply and the power cut off, but candles can spread some coziness. And luckily this building is old enough to have furnaces and open fireplaces. Like this, the gentlemen won't freeze their high-ranking butts off."

The last comment was meant to lift the boy's mood, and it didn't miss its intention. Max had to snicker.

A minute later they reached a door where a guard stood, who only took one look at the teen, badly suppressed a grin, and knocked on the door. "Sirs? The boy is here."

Max felt his mouth go dry before he looked up at David. He was almost ready to ask him to go with him.

Greenhill seemed to understand the pleading look and nudged him gently. "Just go and be yourself, Max. You'll see the general is okay. And Culin and the others, too."

"Thank you for the compliment, Corporal," echoed a voice from inside the room, and Greenhill flushed.

"Uhm…sorry, sir!" he called, then pushed Max inside and closed the door. He caught the knowing smirk of the guard and rolled his eyes.

Inside of the room, Max found the general, the major general, and a few other officers sitting at a table; empty plates in front of them. The thick curtains were closed, a large fire spread warmth through the room, and a few candelabras were enlightened. The men obviously shared some drinks with each other, and the whole scene was indeed comfortable – even if Max thought his heartbeat was to be heard a mile away.

Butler watched the boy at the door. For fifteen years he was rather small, but his eyes shone with a bright intelligence, yet also with some anxiety.

Taking pity on the teen, he rose to speak. "So, you're the kid who spared one of our sergeants, got the same man for his friend's rescue, and has forgotten since then that he wears a completely different uniform than we do."

Max felt heat rising into his cheeks, but forced himself to look Butler straight in the eyes. "Yes, sir," he replied. "My father taught me that every human being values the same, no matter the heritage or religion."

General Major Culin, a man in his later middle ages with a balding head, laid his napkin beside the empty plate. "If there were more men like your father, we all would be safe and sound at home just about now," he murmured.

Butler waved a hand. "Come here, Max. There is no need that we all have to shout to understand each other." He placed both underarms on the table surface and slightly bent forwards, while the teen drew nearer. "I heard your father is one of the German top-agents of the Underground?" he asked.

Max took a deep breath. "I heard the same, sir."

Cocking his head, Butler pursed his lips. "So, you didn't know that your father works for our side?"

The kid shook his head. "No, sir; not really. I knew that Papa despises the Nazis' views and ways, but…to say the truth, I didn't know that Papa belongs to the Underground."

The others murmured beneath their breath, while Alex nodded. The similarity of the family-name of the boy and the 'large Bavarian Strudel King' hadn't slipped his attention. And then the fact that Robert Hogan had required the boy's rescue…it could only mean one thing.

"Is there the tiniest chance that your father is Hans Georg Schultz of Stalag 13?"

Max gaped at him. "You…you know my father?" he asked, flabbergasted. Culin and the others looked at the general, while beside him Lalley – who was informed about 'Papa Bear' – controlled his features. The boy's father was a simple leader of the camp's guards; no more, no less, but he was an honorable German man, and this was enough for Lalley to forget the uniform the man had to wear.

Butler groaned inwardly as he got the already assumed affirmation. So, he wasn't mistaken concerning this 'top-member's' identity. Of course, he had heard about Hans Georg Schultz – much more than it was necessary, given the fact that the man was a simple non-com in Stalag 13. Yes, he had some parts in Hogan's missions – mostly unwillingly – but Butler had also heard that the man was a 'big teddy bear with a love for food and a big, but simple heart'. Now, all of sudden, Schultz was one of the 'top-members' of the German Underground. 'You really put a slant on facts until they're to your usage, Robert,' he thought wryly. 'If this 'teddy-bear' is a top-member, then I ask myself what this Colonel Klink is in your eyes.' He sighed deeply, while he felt a light headache approaching. 'When this war is over, you and I have a LOT to speak about, Robert. I don't know what gives me more greys – this damn war, or you!'

His glance found the boy again. "I never met your father in person, but I've heard much about him within the last three years," he stated quietly.

The teen seemed to sparkle with pride. "So, my father is indeed an important member of the Underground?" He took a deep breath. "He had to be, seeing that he has American friends who have enough influence to make a lieutenant of an attacking US-troop searching for me."

Butler snorted inwardly. Hans Schultz closed eyes and ears when it came to Hogan's missions, and the man had some more or less unwilling parts in said tasks, but as far as Alex was aware of, the Bavarian was no hero. Not in the common sense of the word. Yet what the man did at Stalag 13 was risky at best, so – yes – he was brave in his own way. And as the general saw how proud of his father the boy in front of him was, he hadn't the heart to tell the kid that his heroic dad only belonged to the so-called 'gentle resistance'.

"Well, his 'American friend', like you called it, has indeed some influence," he said. "You're fortunate."

Max nodded. "I know, sir, and I'm grateful for his intervention; even if it certainly was not easy for the men here to agree to his wish. I can imagine that it gave Lieutenant Mueller some difficulties to lead the troops through the streets while conquering the town, and yet, looking out for one boy among hundreds." He sighed. "Yet I think my real luck was that Sergeant Milford and I met. He's… a fine man."

Major General Culin pursed his lips. "I heard the story a dozen times by now, yet I didn't understand one thing: Why didn't you shoot?"

Max straightened his small shape and looked firmly at the man's piercing eyes. "Because it would have been wrong. John was re-loading his rifle and had no chance to fight back. If I would have shot, it would have been murder." He rubbed his neck. "And besides this… I don't want to hurt people. They all have friends and families somewhere, and to take someone away from his dear ones is…a crime. War or not." He bit his lips. "I know that this is naïve, because we're at combat, but I don't care. Life is something you have to respect; not to take. John realized that someone was lingering above him, looked up and…and I saw his rising fear. I…I simply couldn't pull the trigger." He shrugged. "And later, he agreed to help Frank. And even more, he brought him to the field hospital and protected me against the partly showed hate of a GI. He even let me sleep in his tent to give me a chance to avoid said GI." He straightened his small frame. "He's my friend now, and I don't care about his uniform or heritage."

Butler had listened closely. The boy seemed to possess the same soft heart like his father did, because Hogan had told him a few times that the 'Strudel King' was far too gentle for a man of his position. And now, the German sergeant's youngest son refused to fight even during a battle, spared an opponent, and befriended him, but also showed an inner strength that spoke of its own kind of braveness. Life never ceased to surprise the general.

"Well, there is no doubt that you regard Staff Sergeant Milford as a friend," he said, eyes twinkling. "It was the first time since I took those stars that someone besides the president or his assistants gave me an order." He pointed at his epaulette.

Promptly, Max blushed. "I'm sorry, sir, that I tried to order you around, but…I don't know the US military insignias well, and you stood there with nothing to do, and John needed medical help, so…" He shrugged. "Sorry," he repeated sheepishly, with a nervous grin.

Most officers began to chuckle, and even Alex smirked for a moment. "Tell me; if you would have known that I'm a general, would you have still tried to send me for a doctor?"

Again, the kid took a deep breath. "Well, I would have…asked you more nicely, yet I would have tried to get you to do something to help John." He shrugged again. "Like I said, John is my friend. Frank and I are closer, because we grew up more or less together, but John reminds me of my older brothers, so…so I would do everything to keep him safe."

Lalley allowed himself a small smile. "So, your friend Frank you risked your neck for as you tried to get some of our boys to help him, comes from the same town like you? Heidelberg, right?"

Max nodded. "Yes. My family had a toy company there, and my parents' house is in the family for generations. Across the street new houses were built to offer room for a few families. Frank's parents were one of the first to move in. He and I were three then, and we became friends quickly. Since then we…well, my brother Ludwig says we're joined at the hip."

Alexander had to laugh now, then he turned serious again. Heidelberg would be conquered soon, yet he knew that the town hadn't suffered much damage, which he was glad. He had learned from others that the city was special – a smaller one with a historical town center, a large castle on the hill side, and cozy restaurants where the students stayed more than necessary. Maybe it was possible to seize the town without damaging it too much – with some added knowledge about its layouts, of course.

He pointed at one of the empty chairs. "Sit down, Max, and tell me about Heidelberg."

The boy cocked his head and bowed with a polite, "Thank you, General." Then he frowned. "And then I have to tell you about the main streets and town borders so that your troops have an easier access to the town, right?"

Flabbergasted, Culin stared at him while Butler burst out laughing. The boy's blunt and straight way of thinking and speaking was refreshing. Shaking his head in deep amusement, he looked with open kindness at the kid. "If your father is only half this wryly and clever like you are, I'm sure our men find here and there some fun at St…where they are," he corrected himself in the last second.

He couldn't fool Max. He knew what the general had tried to hide. The 'men' were in Stalag 13 – and the 'American friend' certainly, too. The boy had a certain assumption who his secret rescuer was: Said colonel his dad didn't get tired of complaining about, but also to snicker when he was home. Was said colonel and this American agent one and the same person? Maybe, but it certainly was better to stay silent about it.

He realized that General Butler had asked him something, and quickly tore himself out of thoughts. "Uh, sorry, sir, what did you say?"

Alex smiled. The boy reminded him of Robert when he had been a teen. There were a few similarities in the character streaks, no doubt here. "I asked if you already had dinner?"

Max shook his head. "No, sir. I usually eat with the medics, but there was so much to do…"

Butler lifted both brows. "Well, seeing that it's already half past nine, I think you missed dinner." He looked at Lalley. "Get the boy something to eat."

His adjutant nodded, rose, went to the door, opened it, and addressed the guard. "Private, please go to…" He hesitated as he saw another figure nearby. "Corporal, is there a certain reason why you're leaning at this wall there with nothing to do?"

"Ung, sir, the boy doesn't know this big building well, and I'm waiting here to escort him back to his dorms, where he and a few others are staying," came the rather sheepish answer.

The familiar voice was clear to hear in the room, and Max's eyes widened in surprise. "Corporal Greenhill is still here?" he asked, perplexed.

Butler began to smirk as he bent towards Culin and murmured, "As it seems, a little gang is forming here."

"Yes, obviously," the major general nodded, frowning.

The higher ranking staff officer waved it off. "I have no objections against it. Some humanity shows us what we're fighting for here." He raised his voice. "Corporal Greenhill?" he shouted, and the man hastily appeared in the doorway.

"General!" He saluted.

Alex smiled kindly at him. "Bring a set of dishes and a glass for our young guest here. And ask in the kitchen if they could re-warm some of the meal we got. Boys his age are always hungry."

Greenhill saluted again. "Yes, sir." Giving Max a quick grin, he vanished.

Closing the door behind the corporal, Lalley returned to the table, exchanging a short glance with his superior.

Butler watched how the boy took the empty chair, clearly uncertain, yet determined to hold his ground. It was, in its own way, a courage the general hadn't witnessed often – after all, he and his colleagues were official enemies and high ranking men. Max was a mere teen and, in fact, a captive. This all here was certainly not easy for the kid, yet he mastered it with some dignity others would never be able to gain.

Butler lifted his glass of whisky and took a sip. The next few days would be stressful and harsh enough, so he was glad about a little distraction. He maybe could also learn a little bit more about Hogan's big 'Strudel King', Heidelberg, and about the German lifestyle.

*** HH ***

It was over an hour later when Max followed Greenhill back to the dorms. He was full with a really good dinner, tired, and relieved. They stopped by Milford's sick-room – John was still deeply asleep – then went to the room where Frank and a few of the other casualties slept. Bidding David goodnight and thanking him for staying, Max tiptoed into the room, stripped, and slipped into bed. The whole last hour seemed to be surreal. He, a German teen, technically dined with US staff officers, and he couldn't help himself; he had taken a real liking to General Butler. The man was decent, yet funny. 'Charming', like his sisters certainly would have said. Hopefully the general would stay well during the last few weeks of the war.

In Stalag 13, Schultz lay in bed and thought about his youngest son. Of course, he couldn't know with how much bravura his 'little boy' had mastered this extraordinary evening, and that his natural politeness and strong belief in humanity would change a lot for the Schultz family in the near future.

As Schultz woke up the next morning and made himself ready for the duties of a Kommandant, Butler was already on his way towards the south. He had ordered that Max and Frank stay in Coblenz until Heidelberg was conquered and secured, and he also had given orders concerning Milford and his team – with Culin's agreement, of course. He didn't know if the sergeant would be happy of his future task – that would include his temporary transfer to the 63rd Infantry Division of the 7th US Army as soon as Heidelberg was seized – but Butler had one strong motto: Never change a winning team. Hogan and his men had proved this motto to be true, and Butler had a certain gut-feeling that it would be best to let Milford, his men, and the two boys stay together.

Even in the seized towns, anarchy was still ruling in the streets. The freed labor workers tried to get revenge on German civilians, and the boys would be safe with Milford in Coblenz and later Heidelberg.

Butler knew that many of Hogan's missions had only been fulfilled because of Hans Georg Schultz. A klutz or not, the West Allies owed the man, and if it meant to detach a US sergeant and his men to protect the man's son and his friend, so be it. There were so many GIs busy with shielding German people against revenge seeking, freed prisoners, and even French mercenaries; five men more didn't matter.

While in Stalag 13, the usual morning roll call happened, a new air raid began against Berlin; this time flown from a conquered air base in Italy. But that was not all. During the day, the northern area of the Lippe River got visitors. More than 1670 cargo airplanes and 1320 military gliders brought paratroopers protected by more than 400 air fighters. The conquering of Middle Germany had begun, while in the south, the advance was hurrying up. The West Allies were sure that Hitler was in Berchtesgaden, which would have been the most logical choice to make for him. He would be a lot of safer there than in Berlin, and the Allies wanted to catch him there at any price. They couldn't know that the Führer was, indeed, in the capital and would remain there. Therefore, it was decided to let the Russians seize Berlin, but Hitler would be caught by the US troops – or so they thought.

Nothing of this was known in the camp. Schultz brooded over the desk job despite the fact that it was Saturday, Klink enjoyed another early spring day in the sun, and the whole routine life in Stalag 13 spoke of relative peace. Mostly.

It was after lunch an emotional roller coaster was started that Hogan had tried to avoid for more than six weeks now. He, Will, Connor, Harrison, and Elison had a short lunch, and the Oberst had gone to bed to find some rest as Schultz came with the new lists, reports, and statistics.

LeBeau was doing the dishes, and Elison helped him as they heard Klink calling, "And don't forget to delete this entry before you send it to Berlin. This is nothing for General Burkhalter."

"Is' sho' recht (Bavarian, it's all right)," came the reply with a big sigh, and Schultz left again.

Hogan watched him go, exchanged an amused glance with Connor, then went to the bedroom. "Is Schultz too honest?" he teased.

"There's no need for General Burkhalter to learn everything," Will grumbled. "I'm only glad that he didn't find out about the real reason why you took part in the desk job. He shouldn't learn that we got unofficial additions to the camp and hide a few political prisoners here, either."

Connor, who had closed the distance to Hogan, leaned against the door frame and frowned. "You hide…political prisoners among the POWs?" he asked, perplexed.

"Yeah. Some guys who fled from Camp M1 – Germans who officially doubt Hitler's sanity, two Jews, and two POWs," Hogan nodded, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"You hide…two Jews here?" Ryan stared at Klink, who simply nodded. "Then pray that no one finds out before the war ends. I heard that those people who help their Jewish fellowmen are severely punished."

Will lifted both brows. "I never had something against the religious community, and I never will. Hell, during the first war I had a few comrades who were Jewish. From three, I know that they left Germany before the whole mess really started; two I haven't heard from in years."

Connor cocked his head. "Mess?" he repeated slowly. "You call it a 'mess'?"

"Ja, what else shall I call it? The Jewish people were brought mostly to Poland and are locked up there in working camps. I could scream when I think about it, and I hope that the Allies are able to free them soon. Slavery is a crime and…"

"You mean we're able to free those who are still alive," Elison cut in, who stopped beside Connor with a dark expression. Behind him LeBeau stopped to put the dishes back into the cupboard and frowned.

"Those who are still alive?" Klink blinked in confusion. "I can imagine that some of them died. Just look at the big projects the insane private ordered. No one can build them without the costs of life. I know of one in Thuringia and…"

"You really think they were sent to working camps?" Bryan cut in.

"Are they not?" Klink wanted to know. He saw Hogan shifting, face betraying how uncomfortable he felt, but before he could say something, Robert rose to speak softly. "The Kommandant doesn't know about it – not until now. I wanted to tell him the evening the Gestapo Major's assault took place, and since then, there was no chance to…inform him."

Connor looked at the still weak Oberst in bed and nodded in understanding. This German officer was a good man, and to learn of the monstrous deeds of his fellowmen would shock him. That much was clear. And a shock for a healing man could lead to unpleasant consequences. No wonder Hogan had decided to protect the older man until he was better.

"Okay," he said calmly. "Of course, it's up to you to tell him the truth, but…if I were in your place, I wouldn't wait much longer."

Hogan nodded slowly and caught Will's alerted glance. He knew the older man inside-out and that he would insist of telling him – especially now with his inner alarm risen.

Connor looked between to two colonels back and forth one last time, then left with Bryan on his heels. He had a bad gut-feeling that he had provoked a storm both higher ranking officers would have to master alone. And as he glanced shortly at his godfather, he saw that the older man had pressed his lips into a thin line. "Sorry," he mumbled, while they left the building. "I really didn't want to give them discomfort."

Elison sighed. "It's not your fault. You couldn't know that in this camp one of the only few German officers are left who don't know what happened to their Jewish fellowmen. And I'm sure Hogan will find the right words to inform Klink."

Connor grimaced. "I hope so. I really don't want to be responsible for any relapse of the Kommandant. He's a nice guy – somehow. And he's on our side. There are certainly not many German officers I like right now, but Klink belongs to them." He leaned against the house wall and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I really hope that Hogan can adduce him the bitter truth without giving the man a heart attack."

*** HH ***

Inside of the quarters, Hogan still stood on the doorstep to the sleeping room and racked his brain on how to tell Will everything without giving him too much pain. He knew his lover. Beneath all the pompous and sometimes arrogant behavior, Wilhelm Klink was sensible and had a far too soft heart. There was no chance on Earth that he would take the news not to heart – and Robert didn't like the thought. But there was no other way. One day Will had to learn everything, and it was better he told him and not some strangers who didn't care for Wilhelm's gentle mind.

Klink watched the younger man closely. He saw the uncertainty and even something close to worry in those chocolate brown eyes. He knew that whatever Robert had to tell him was bad. Very bad. Taking a deep breath, he took all his courage and said, "Shoot."

Hogan licked his lips. That he not even tried to make a joke of this silly command said enough. What he had to tell wasn't only bad, but it had to be horrible.

"Will…" he began quietly, sighed, walked to the bed, and sat down on its edge.

"Rob, dammit. It won't become better if you beat around the bush, so just tell me what's really happening in those working camps." Klink lowered his gaze. "I can imagine that they don't treat the prisoners well – certainly not like I handle my POWs, but…"

"They kill them," Hogan whispered, and Klink grew stiff.

"I beg your pardon?" Frowning, he looked at his beloved. "It…it's clear that certainly many people are becoming ill, and accidents happen, but…"

"Will, I mean it like I said it," Robert interrupted him softly, knowing that this all went so incredibly much against Klink's way and regards that it would shake the Oberst entirely. Yet he had to learn the truth. "They kill them. En masse. Auschwitz has a working camp, yes; for Poles and Russian POWs. But the Jewish people…they kill them there." He swallowed. "It's a killing camp, Will. A facility to murder people almost around the clock."

Every color had drained from Klink's face, while his eyes were wide as saucers. "No," he murmured, snorted, and shook his head. "No, you're mistaken." There was no way that this was true. Yes, staunched Nazis were swines at best, but this…this would be too demonic – bare any humanity. Hitler and his goonies always pointed out that a true German man had to be honorable and chivalric. To murder people in the thousands was the complete opposite of the demanded manner.

"Sadly, I'm not." Robert replied.

"No. No chance." Wilhelm gritted out in desperate denial. This couldn't be true. "You fell for Russian propaganda, and…"

"Will, I got that information from General Butler," Rob interrupted him softly, fixing his beloved's wide eyes with a calm gaze. "He was on Malta during the conference between Roosevelt, Stalin, and Churchill." He watched Klink shaking his head furiously again and continued quietly. "Alex saw the photos Stalin presented. The Nazis killed the Jews in Auschwitz – to thousands and thousands and thousands. The Russian soldiers were still digging out mass graves and…"

"This can't be," Wilhelm croaked, his eyes pleaded with Hogan to confirm his hope. "Please, tell me that it isn't true."

Robert moistened his lips. "I'm sorry, Will…but it's no propaganda. Alex admitted to me that he even had to vomit. I don't think there's much that can shock a general during a war, but this…The Nazis built a killing-factory there with many crematories to burn the corpses. The Russians weren't done with developing everything as the conference on Malta happened, but they found thousands of barrels with cutoff hair, heaps of clothes and shoes, dead bodies which weren't burned, large fire pits in which mortal rests lay…They calculated that…that approximately one million people or more were murdered in Auschwitz."

Klink's breath was shallow and uneven, his face was white like snow. What he heard was too much to comprehend, even for an intelligent man like he was. It was too horrible to even grasp. He heard his blood buzzing in his ears while something icy crept down his back, slowly seeping into his body and ran through his veins.

"This…they can't have done this," he rasped, his longer fingers, which clung to the comforter, trembled.

Robert felt the shock and pain radiating from the older man in burning waves. Instinctively, he reached out and placed a hand on Will's shoulder.

"It's the truth, Wilhelm. Auschwitz is a killing-camp. There were more of them in Poland and even White Russia but they were closed within the last years or liberated by the Red Army. And there are more of those 'facilities' within Germany. This is one of the reasons why the Allies are trying to gain as much ground as possible in high speed. They not only want to stop the Nazis on principle, but they want to stop the mass-killings in the camps."

The droning in Klink's eyes became stronger, while the ice beneath his skin began to churn in his stomach. For a moment he saw nothing else but dead bodies – men, women, children, eyes wide open, mute cries for help on their unmoving lips.

Something rose from his belly like acidic poison. Somehow he managed to hurl the covers away, rise to his feet, and stumble to the bathroom. He didn't hear Robert calling his name, nor did he feel the other man's hands steering him to the toilette, opening its cover and helping him to kneel down in the very last second. He retched like he had done rarely before; everything he ate and more seemed to spill from his mouth, yet it was nothing against the other bitter taste deep in his soul and mind. He wanted to scream, to weep, but he could do nothing of it.

Finally, as he thought his stomach would come out of his body through his mouth, the puking stopped. His whole upper body, including his throat, burned, but it was nothing compared to the icy nausea that still scorched in his stomach.

A glass was pressed against his lips, and out of instinct, he took a few sips, while he thought to recognize Robert's voice from afar – like through a thick fog.

"Don't swallow it, Will. Just clean your mouth and spit it out – or you'll get sick again."

Robert held the glass, while his free hand drove in soothing circles over Klink's tensed back. He felt the tremors which rippled through the older man's body, he heard the shivering breaths and knew from experiences that Will was in a kind of shock – and that he would start to freeze like a little puppy within the next minute.

Dammit. This was exactly what he had worried about. He had feared Wilhelm's reaction, and it was as bad as he had assumed. Gentle, sensible, too big-hearted Willie. The horrible truth of what thousands of his people had done – or allowed to happen – had to shake his very core. Robert knew that shame would follow the shock, combined with grieving and loathe. Will needed him now – more than many times before.

He felt a soft pushing against the glass and took it away. Klink had rinsed out his mouth a few times and tried to rise, but his legs wobbled dangerously. Without wasting a thought, Hogan put the glass on the floor, wrapped both arms around his lover, and helped him to regain his feet, steading him by holding him close. Klink swayed slightly, and Rob led him to the sink, wet a wash cloth with one hand, and gently cleaned the older man's face with the other.

"Hush, Will," he murmured. "I know it's hard to believe, and it had to hit you like a truck. That's the reason why I tried to avoid this as long as possible. But…" He stopped as he felt his lover's trembling worsening. Even his teeth chattered while he gulped down some very much needed air.

Carefully drying Klink's face, Hogan half steered, half carried him back into the bedroom and eased him down onto the bed, yet Wilhelm refused to lie down. Sighing in defeat, Rob pulled the comforter closer, wrapped it around the Oberst's shoulders, and held it in place with an arm encircling the older man.

For a long moment, none of them said a single word. Klink simply stared into nothingness. His heart throbbed, while his chest arched. His breathing shook with inner coldness. The only thing that was repeated in his mind like a mantra were the words 'killing facility' and 'approximately one million people or moer', followed by 'there are more of them'. His people – in uniform or not – had murdered a million innocent men, women, and children. In cold blood and methodically like cattle at a slaughterhouse. It was too horrible and too cruel to grasp it fully. A whimpering escaped from him, the shock of what his own people had done being too heavy to handle.

In alert, Rob looked at him, and as he heard the first sob, he pulled his lover into his arms. It was like a dam would break. Within seconds, tears were streaming down Wilhelm's face, and Hogan tightened his embrace, holding the older man close to him to give him something to latch onto.

Sweet Lord, this was exactly what he had known would happen. He only hoped Will's healing process was strong enough to withstand the stress the body went through now; the aftershock of the blow to his soul he got by learning this inhumane truth.

Pressing Will's face into the croon of his neck, he lay his head against Klink's temple and held him tight. His heart went out to the older man, whose whole world had crumbled to ashes – again. First he lost his lover, then his beloved emperor, then he searched his way through the chaos of the last 25 years, had to howl with the wolves to keep those in his responsibility safe, now he learned that his own people had committed a crime that would follow them for decades – a shame that would last for centuries. That this was too much for Wilhelm Klink at that very moment was no wonder.

Hogan didn't know how long he sat there like that – turned half away to the side, cradling his weeping lover, and trying to comfort him with gentle caresses, calming noises, and soft kisses on his temple. Eventually his attempts to calm Wilhelm down succeeded. The sobs stopped, made room for gentle weeping, then finally ended in sniffling. Klink had snaked his arms around Hogan's waist, clinging to him like a drowning man to a piece of wood in the middle of a stormy sea. And it was a storm he went through. A storm of emotions.

Finally, with burning eyes, closed nose, and a soft hiccup, he entangled himself from the younger man and slowly sat up as if tons of weight were holding him down.

Rob cupped one of his cheeks and pressed a kiss to the other one. "Better?" he asked softly, eyes full of understanding and compassion. Will was a honorable man who hated to harm others and who cherished life. What he had learned now had to rattle his episteme to the core.

Those glassy, still wet blue eyes looked at him. "How can you still touch me?" he whispered.

Hogan blinked in confusion. "What?"

"After what my people did…I'm German. How can you still bear to touch me? I belong to a folk of butchers and…"

"Wilhelm, stop," Robert said, with a mixture of softness, but also sternness. "You didn't know about it – and that goes for certainly three quarters of all Germans."

"I'm a member of the Wehrmacht. I…"

"Will, listen," Hogan said, more strongly and forced Klink to look at him by strengthening his grip around the other man's face. "This whole horror was masked as a translocation in the beginning of 1942 and is kept a top secret since then, because Himmler and Hitler know that the German people wouldn't tolerate something like this if they learned about it. The Allies got the information, because a few prisoners were able to escape and reached London. The last real intel London got was in the summer of 1944. Most German civilians have no knowledge of what happens in those 'working camps' – that a few of them are killing facilities."

Klink lowered his gaze and swallowed again. "Which camps are…" He made a short gesture with his hand. "You know," he murmured, unable to utter the right words.

"Besides Auschwitz, we know that Dachau and Bergen-Belsen by Hannover have a killing area, too. But I'm sure that there are more camps. Those three are the biggest ones."

Will shivered again. He felt cold – colder than he had been while tramping through the woods together with Robert in January. "How many survived in Auschwitz?" he finally grated. "How many could the Russians set free?"

Hogan sighed. Of course this would be one of the first questions Klink came up with. "I'm not sure. Auschwitz was 'evacuated' before the Red Army reached it. Alex told me that the Russians found approximately 600 people alive – barely. How many made it in the end, I have no clue." He looked at Will, who groaned and closed his eyes.

"Evacuated," he whispered, his voice mirrored deep pain. "To still 'functional' killing-camps."

"Maybe," Hogan nodded tentatively.

"Oh GOTT!" Wilhelm buried his face in his hands, ashamed of his fellow countrymen. Rob slipped one hand under the comforter and drew comforting circles on the other man's back.

"Will, this is not your fault – or that of the other civilian people. Hell, I'm sure that even many staff members of the Wehrmacht don't know about it, and…"

"But we allowed it to happen," Klink interrupted him, choking. Then he glanced up at him again. "I know how it began – the pre-justice, the rumors, the lies that the Jewish people are guilty for the economic crisis and the galloping inflation in 1923. And the financial one in 1928, because they dealt with money from time immemorial. Then the burning of the Reichstag…They said it had to have been the Jews who done it – that they want to subvert our country and life. And then the lies increased. They were found guilty of everything that went wrong, and no one dared to protest. It was so much easier to have a scapegoat for our failures instead of facing the truth: That we weren't matured enough to have a democracy like you Americans. We were used to having someone who tells us what to do, and as it was up to us to make decisions, we failed miserably. And like always in situations, when everything goes upside-down, the people scream for a strong leader who takes the responsibility away from their shoulders and shows the way – the right or wrong one. History shows that the latter was almost always the case. And as if this wouldn't have been enough, we blamed our fellow countrymen only because they have another religion and culture. Even if you're right, Robert, and most of the civilians and even Wehrmacht members don't know about it, still we are guilty to watch as they were hunted through the streets, chased out of their homes, and brought away. We…"

Klink had talked himself into rage born out of self-loathe, and Hogan placed a finger against his lover's lips. "Will, please listen to me." He looked softy but also sternly at the other man. "You are right, but you miss one big detail. This all here – Hitler, the Nazis, the war – is the result of two things: Your people weren't ripe for system of government, just like you said, and we stood aside and watched the doom rising without doing something. If we would have helped you after the first war, Hitler maybe would have never got a chance to became the powerful man he is now. But this is also a big 'maybe'. So many unfortunate details led to the current situation, and…"

"Yet this didn't excuse that we blamed others for our mistakes and kill them in the thousands," Will said bitterly. His gaze roamed through the room in a helpless search of answers he wouldn't get. "I…I ask myself what kind of man those monsters are to murder others without blinking an eye. In armed combat, during a battle among soldiers there are kills, yes, but…but those people were civilians!" He rubbed his forehead and bit his lips as another thought grazed him. "You said it's a kind of facility. How…how did they…?"

"Gas," Robert answered quietly. "They killed them in gas chambers."

Appalled, Wilhelm stared at him. "Gas…it needs minutes to…" He stopped himself, as new nausea washed over him. "Lieber Gott, nein!"

Hogan pulled him close again, offering himself as an anchor again. Will closed his eyes and tried to block out the imaginations which rose in his mind. You didn't need much fantasy to conclude the brutality that accompanied the murderers.

"Someone had to lock them in the chambers, someone had to take them out…afterwards. The corpses had to be brought away and…"

"Staling told Roosevelt and Churchill that some of the deported men were chosen to do this job. They were simply told to do this job and were promised that their whole families were spared if they obey." He lowered his head. "I think, the guards lied."

"They certainly did – knowingly or unknowingly," Klink whispered; feeling the new urge to puke, even if nothing was left than bile. "Those men were forced to… to dispose their own people like… like trash." He crawled the comforter around himself; imagining what these had been forced to endure.

It was sickening.

Will gulped new nausea down. "How can any feeling man do such a thing to…to other men? Women. Children! They had to see that those… those murdered people were just that: People. How could they DO this to them!?"

Robert yearned for something to drink, because his mouth was dry like a desert, but he didn't dare to leave his lover like this. "I don't know, Will," he answered hoarsely. "Alex told me that they found drugs in chocolate bars of Wehrmacht and SS-members – drugs which lower the barrier of fear and sensibility. They more or less change the men into unfeeling fighting machines. But the price is high. They are addicted to this drug after some time, and it harms the body. Maybe the men within Auschwitz got the same stuff to endure everything."

"Drugs?!" Klink snorted a helpless laughter and threw up a hand. "What else more? How far did Hitler and his goonies go in their attempt to win a war in which the whole world is against them?"

"To the utmost – without any rue or hesitation," Hogan answered. "Just take the last orders of them. They speak about the insanity and evilness that rules their minds by now." He pulled the comforter closer around Will – as if he could shield him like this against the harshness of the outer world. "By now, not only the soldiers and para-military organizations take the brunt of these devils, but the civilians, too. And I don't speak of the victims during the air raids."

Klink massaged his temples as he realized something else. "The high losses during the air raids…The aiming for civilian targets. It's a revenge for all those crimes, right?"

Hogan took a deep breath. "Officially not, but I'm sure that many pilots have no problem with bombarding civilian targets out of vengeance. Revenge has many faces, and they're all ugly." He sighed. "I condemn such strategies. I rather stick to the New Testament and the forgiveness Jesus speaks of instead of the 'an eye for an eye' of the Old Testament."

"Forgiveness…" Will murmured. "This is why you want to return to Germany to help us rebuilt our country – after all we did?"

"Besides the big point that I want to return to be with you, Love, the other official part is indeed due to my beliefs. Like I said, most of your people don't know about those horrors and are innocent victims of the regime just like those in the camps. Those who knew and didn't do anything, or those who are members of the executive party will experience the Allies' full wrath. Those who had no part in it will learn the truth to teach them a lesson, and then they'll need help. At least, I see it that way, and I'm sure there are many staff officers and politicians who see it likewise."

"A few at best, but you're always the optimist," Klink whispered, and linked his fingers with Hogan's. For a few seconds, he was quiet, then he asked softly, "Do you think General Burkhalter knows about…about those killing camps?"

Hogan made a face. "I don't know. Yes, he is 'good friends' with Himmler, and the bastard was the initiator of this unbelievable horror. Yet…yet I don't take Burkhalter for someone who would simply stay silent and accept such inhumanity. He's a coward, yes, and he knows how to gain advantages for himself, but…but I think something like this would overstep his personal mark. I rather think he has some assumptions and half-knowledges, but ignores them."

"Would be typical for him," Will commented quietly, before he took a very deep breath. "When did you learn about…about Auschwitz?"

Robert lowered his gaze again. "I learned about it during the big air raid of Dresden." He heard Wilhelm gasp and glanced up at him. "I radioed London and demanded to speak with Alex, asking him if the staff has lost its mind to destroy a culture city like this – with more civilian than military victims. I asked him if we use now Hitler's methods and would place us on the same level he is, then Alex told me about the killing camps. The conference on Malta was only a few days ago, and the horrible news had spread through London HQ – including all the crews of the Air Corps and RAF." He grimaced. "I couldn't tell you about it then. You were already mourning Dresden and afterwards…" He shrugged one shoulder. "I didn't know how to tell you. As I finally made up my mind, Hochstetter happened."

Klink nodded slowly, realizing that this whole cruel knowledge must have weighed heavily on Robert's mind and soul. "You carried the burden of this knowledge for almost six weeks now."

Hogan shrugged again. "To keep things a secret is something that comes with the whole espionage package." He turned serious again. "Yet I wanted to tell you in person – before someone did it who…who doesn't take consideration of your true position within this war or your human personality." He gently stroke over Klink's still damp and very cold cheek. "I had hoped to tell you later. When you're feeling better, but with Connor giving you hints, I had no other choice than to give you all the information now. I'm sorry, Will."

"Don't be sorry," the older man replied hoarsely and tightened his grip on Hogan's fingers. "I'm…grateful that it was you who told me. I think my reaction…wasn't for other eyes."

"My point exactly." Robert nodded and pulled him close again. Leaning his face against Will's, he closed his eyes. He felt tired – with the knowledge shared a part of the burden had been indeed lifted from his shoulders, but Wilhelm's grieving and shaming hurt him. Yet he tried to find some light in the dark, like typical for Colonel Robert Hogan. "I know it's hard to accept what the Nazis have done and still do, but the Allies are about to conquer all of Germany within the next few weeks. Whatever happens until then, the end of the horror is near. And then we have time to heal – we all have."

He couldn't know that this most sinister kind of crime was also reaching for Stalag 13.

TBC…

Yeah, I know, this was sad and I'm sure you sympathize with Klink, but also with Hogan. To give bad messages is always a big displeasure, and giving the fact how much Rob loves Will, to bring him mental pain has to hurt him, too.

In the next chapter, Robert will be there for Wilhelm, but also for Schultz, who learns the truth, too. Then Schmidt receives a call for help from Little Manfred's aunt, and of course the only chance he has to help her is through Hogan – after all, there has to be an advantage to know Papa Bear in person. And then Burkhalter learns that friendships are not always true one – especially not at these times…

I hope, you enjoyed the chapter and also liked the unusual talk between Max and General Butler. I think, Schultz would be proud of him and Hogan would grin from ear to ear, after all he knows his mentor.

I would love to get new comments.

Please stay save in these risky times,

Have a nice rest of Sunday,

Love

Yours Starflight