Hi, my dear readers,

Sorry once again for the delay, but at the moment many happenings within my private and official life happens, what demands my attention. Don't fear, it only has a little bit to do with Covid19 (only concerning my job, because – let's face it, Germans have a BIG nag for bureaucracy), but in private there were some problems with older relatives. I hope, to find some quietness now…

Thank you so much for the lovely feedback, and I'm happy that you all still find time to read my story despite the chaos that roams with many faces through the world.

Like I already said, the new chapter is very emotional and holds a cliffhanger at the end.

So, enjoy the new installment.

Love

Yours Starflight

Chapter 94 – Aftershocks

Hogan stayed almost the whole afternoon in Klink's quarters answering questions of his lover as best as he could and tried to sooth Will's seething anger or burning shame he felt because of the crimes members of his people did or allowed. Eventually, Robert was able to make the older man lie down again; the emotional roller coaster was demanding its toll from the Oberst. Only after he was certain that the emotionally exhausted Klink had fallen asleep he left the building and headed towards the Kommandantur.

He wanted to make sure that Schultz wouldn't disturb the Kommandant, and he would get one of the last bottles of whiskey he and the others had stored in the tunnels, among a few bottles of wine and brandy. Wilhelm was far away from coming to terms with what happened, and Robert knew that some strong drinks were in order. The last cognac had fallen prey to his own fury as he learned of the inhumane walk the POWs of Camp 64 had been sent on. Schmidt, Klink, and he had emptied the last bottle, and until now, Robert had skipped from revealing the assets of the last resort the Heroes hid in the tunnels, but this here was an emergency, so…

His attention was driven to Connor, who headed towards him. The younger man's expression told of some guilt he was feeling. Stopping, Hogan waited for the second highest ranking POW officer to close the distance to him.

"I'm sorry, Colonel," Ryan said quietly. "I think I provoked a storm as I mentioned the horror in Auschwitz, didn't I?"

Hogan sighed. "Yes – but nothing I didn't expect. Colonel Klink is a rather sensible man who values life and honor more than anything else. It…set him off, no doubt there." He rubbed his neck. "I would have told him sooner or later, but he was just doing better after getting a bullet in his stomach, and the whole emotional chaos was…not good for him."

Connor lowered his gaze. "I apologize. The colonel wears the wrong uniform, but my men and I owe him. And he is, indeed, a decent man. It was not my intention to cause him emotional pain."

"You didn't cause it, but those monsters in human form." He grimaced and glanced towards the Kommandantur. "And right now I just realized a second talk is in order." As he caught Connor's asking glance, he explained. "Schultz knows his superior very well and will recognize that Klink is in emotional chaos. Then he'll demand to know what's going on. Klink will wave it off, then it's up to me to tell our Bavarian the truth. Conclusion: It's better I tell him so that he can calm down before he leaves the Kommandantur." He sighed. "And then I'm hopefully done with the unpleasant talks for today." Nodding at Connor, he rounded him and headed to the separate building.

Taking his crush cap into one hand, he entered the wooden house, glad that it was Saturday afternoon, meaning that Hilda was at home. He didn't want her to get upset or see Schultz getting into a fit, because Rob simply knew how the large Bavarian would react. He should be right.

The Sergeant of the Guards already knew that something was off as Hogan knocked, actually waiting to be called inside, then looked at the older man with an expression that obviously made Schultz wary. Dammit, Hans knew him too well by now.

Seeing no other chance to reveal one of Nazi Germany's most sinister and darkest secrets, Hogan made sure to choose his words carefully. Sugarcoating was impossible, but he tried to tell Schultz the brutal truth as gently as possible. At one point he drew the curtains close so that no one from outside could see the large man burying his face in his hands and sobbing like a child.

Hogan, who was always there for his friends, bent over him and took him in a soft embrace; trying to offer comfort where no solace was possible.

He stayed with the deeply shaken sergeant for half an hour, promised to organize some Schnapps, then finally left to get one of the hidden bottles down from the 'cellars'. First, he offered Schultz a few shots and answered more questions as well as he could, then he was about to return to Klink's quarters as the hoarse voice of Hans held him back.

"Herr Hogan?" he croaked, big round eyes red and swollen from too much crying.

"Yes?" the colonel replied and looked back with unusual gentleness at the older man.

"After everything my people did…after all this bestial killing and inhumane behavior…why do you and your men still help us?" He sniffed. "I mean, I know that you fight against this regime, but…but yet you protected my son, you befriended the Kommandant and me, you try to keep the victims of your missions low…you even took a liking to Schmidt, who belongs to a unit that…that is responsible for all the suffering. Why…"

Hogan took a deep breath – something he did a lot this afternoon. "Because I differ between the good and the bad. Men like you, like Klink or Schmidt, realized the mistakes they made in the beginning and stopped to support the monster in Berlin. You kept your humanity, treat us fair and decent. You even support me and my men – you, Klink, even Schmidt. And concerning the other people, most civilians don't know what happens in those camps. And many of those people are victims now, too. Why should I shut my eyes to those facts? I wouldn't be much better than those I'm really fighting." He gave the teary Schultz a short smile. "The heart counts; not the heritage."

He put his crush cap on his head, gave the large Bavarian a sloppy salute, hid the bottle beneath his leather jacket, and left. Evening roll call wouldn't be within the next two hours, and he was determined to lighten the mood until then – at least as much as it was possible.

As he re-entered the Kommandant's quarters, he found Will awake. His lanky form was rolled up on the mattress, his eyes still puffy. Good God, Rob had known that it would come to such a reaction. Pulling the bottle out from under his jacket, he let it dangle in front of the older man's face. "Want some?" he asked.

Wilhelm, still in a kind of shock and feeling oddly separated from the real world, needed a few moments to realize what had appeared in front of his eyes. Lifting his head, he frowned. "Whiskey? From where the heck did you get it?"

Hogan grinned. "We have a little private stock in the cellars," he admitted, and – like hoped for – it woke Klink's attention.

"You…you have alcohol in the tunnels?" he asked, for a moment completely distracted.

Robert nodded with a boyish smirk. "Some wine, brandy, whisky… It's for emergencies. And I think that case is given now, so…" He shrugged. "Do you want one?"

"Take a glass for yourself; I'll take the bottle," the Oberst mumbled, and carefully rose into a sitting position.

Lifting the index finger of his free hand, the colonel gave him a rebuking, "Tut-tut, Kommandant. That's not very nice of you – getting all greedy."

"Alcohol is forbidden for POWs," Klink replied, his voice was still far too hoarse.

"And yet you served me enough wine and Schnapps within the last three years to…"

"Politeness between two officers," Will sighed. For a moment, the atmosphere grew a little bit brighter as their eyes met. Then the older man lowered his gaze. "After all, you learned about my people's crimes, you still want to comfort me – even try to cheer me up. You…you're unbelievable."

Smiling gently, Hogan sat down beside him. Wrapping one arm around his lover, he looked at him kindly. "I already told you; you are not to blame. Neither you, nor Schultz or all the others have a clue of what's really going on. Yes, I can understand that you feel guilty, but it's only on behalf of your fellow countrymen who did the crimes or looked away on purpose. And tell you what, they not only brought harm and death over those men, women, and children in the camps, they also brought shame over men like you. Someone who follows the old and true codes of honor have to be horrified of what happened and still happens. And, if God wills, this honor and decency will rise in your country again – as soon as these demons with human masks are defeated and brought to justice." He lifted the bottle again. "So, hear my advice for now: A few sips of this, and you'll be doing better."

Klink took the bottle from Hogan's hand and glanced down on the label. "You Americans say 'a shot' to a big sip of Schnapps," he murmured, and Robert nodded.

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Shots…" Will sighed deeply. "It's exactly what I want to do to those monsters – shoot them, I mean. But I think it will be your generals that bring them to trial."

Hogan made an affirming gesture. "You can bet your last shirt on it, Will." It was like a vow. "Those who are guilty will pay. Those who were unable to go against this insanity or had to follow orders for whatever reason will be treated different, but they will face justice, too." He gently squeezed the older man's shoulder. "So, do you want a glass?"

"If you fill one glass completely, then keep the rest of bottle for yourself," Wilhelm deadpanned.

Hogan chuckled. "Let me see if I can find a little shot glass somewhere for you and…"

"A beer mug would be better," the Oberst grumbled.

This time, Robert did laugh. "Then there would be nothing left for me – and you'd get the mother of all hangovers. No, no, that's a risk I won't take." He rose. "I'll get the glasses." He went to the door and stopped as he saw Connor stepping into the living room.

"How…how is Colonel Klink doing?" Ryan asked, concerned.

"Not so good," Hogan admitted.

"Do you want to have a shot, Lt. Colonel?" Klink's voice sounded from the bedroom. "I'm generous for now – not that it will change the odious crimes my fellow countrymen are guilty of."

Connor frowned. The German officer's voice sounded hoarse and nasalized. You didn't have to be a genius to know the condition the older man was in. Even tough and well trained soldiers could have a breakdown, and it was clear that Klink was still suffering one.

"Uhm…thank you, sir, but I think you prefer some privacy now and…"

"Nonsense, young man. Just come over."

Giving Hogan an asking glance, Ryan complied after he received a short nod from the higher ranking officer. "I'll get us three glasses," Hogan commented, and went to the kitchen.

Confused why the colonel wanted to get glasses, Connor got the answer to that question a moment later as he stopped at the threshold of the sleeping room and saw the whiskey bottle in the Oberst's hands. He whistled. "Just have a look. You really have a good life here."

Klink smiled bitterly. "Thanks to Robert, yes. My private stock of brandy or wine ran dry weeks ago." He pointed to the arm chair in the corner. "Have a seat, Lt. Colonel."

Feeling a little bit awkward to see a higher ranking and older officer in his nightgown with puffy eyes and many tracks from tears on his face, Connor did as required. "I'm sorry that my loose tongue brought you this displeasure," he heard himself saying before he was able to control himself. Never in his life had he thought to offer an enemy comfort – not an officer of the German army – but Klink was different. He was on their side, and he was a good man.

"Don't apologize," Wilhelm said softly. "Not for implying the truth. I learned that Robert knew about…everything for weeks, but spared me, because I was injured. I'm glad that he doesn't have to carry the burden of that monstrous knowledge alone anymore." He lowered his head. "Excuse my current shape, but…but as I heard what my countrymen did to all those innocent people, I…" He shook his head and took a very deep breath. "I understand now why the Allies fight us so fiercely – or why the Red Army doesn't shy back from hunting down even civilians. Yes, to repay a crime with misdeed brings the avenger on the same level as the criminal, but from a strict human point of view, I can understand the Ivans. What we did in Russia…and in those camps…" He shook his head and sighed deeply. "I'm ashamed of my uniform – something I thought would never happen."

"A uniform is a set of clothes, no more or less. The man who wears it counts; not the emblems," Connor answered softly.

Klink snorted, but nodded. "Yes. That's the only comfort I have for now – knowing that there are at least a few men left who know what it means to be a real soldier and not a butcher."

Hogan arrived and carried a tray with three glasses, Klink's filled. The long, slender hands shook a little bit, betraying Wilhelm's mood, but Robert didn't intervene. He knew that Will needed something normal to do.

As the glasses were filled, Rob sat down beside the older man again, who lifted the glass. "To Hitler and his minion's fall. May the victory of the Allies come soon." He emptied the glass with three large gulps, while Hogan and Connor repeated the toast. They all hoped that the raging insanity would be over soon…yet there were still more than six weeks to go.

*** HH ***

Roll call that evening was short – very short. Nobody said anything, but it was obvious that Schultz was 'ill'. Hogan and Connor stood very stiff and bid the others a quick 'goodnight' afterwards, walking away with almost funny movements. Only as Elison accompanied the two officers and saw the almost empty bottle of whiskey in the Kommandant's kitchen did he know what happened.

"I know you're my superior, Ryan, but I have to rebuke you as your confidant and godfather. This is crazy!" He pointed accusingly at the bottle. "You know what will happen to you if it comes that you drank alcohol while…"

"We all did it – and you, too," Hogan interrupted him.

"Me too?" Elison looked at the senior POW officer as if he had just lost his mind. "I haven't drunk al…"

"Not until now, but that'll change." Robert smirked and emptied the rest of the bottle in four little glasses.

Elison groaned. "I can imagine the truth caused the Kommandant to get an upset stomach – and the same obviously went for Sergeant Schultz – but…"

Hogan pressed one of the glasses in the older man's hand. "Welcome to our current little club of 'flushing down the truth'." Taking the three other glasses, he went to the living room, Elison following from behind.

"We all will be in deep trouble if this comes out," he murmured.

"I already pretended to be utterly drunk and 'passed out' on Klink's bed in the presence of General Burkhalter. It got me a lecture from him the next morning, but nothing more."

Connor, who sat at the table, looked up with big eyes. "Why did you do it?"

"To have an alibi," Klink answered, who came into the living room wearing his nightgown, but at least he had slipped into his bathrobe, too. "Everyone thought he slept his hangover off, but in truth one of his men put on his clothes. That man pretended to be him and snored like a bear on my bed, while Colonel Hogan slipped away and blew up an airbase nearby."

The other two Americans stared flabbergasted at Hogan, who felt a grin pulling at his mouth. "It was a rather chaotic mission and…"

"Like all your missions are," Klink pointed out and sat down at the table.

Rob rolled his eyes. "That's highly exaggerated, you know."

"No, it's the plain truth."

Connor and Elison exchanged a glance, grinning inwardly at the bickering. And, like done with magic, the mood began to lift a bit. Yet it would take time until Klink (and Schultz) learned to accept the brutal truth.

*** HH *** HH ***

The next few days went by uneventful – at least for the men within Stalag 13. Wilhelm suffered nightmares for the first three nights, and it was up to Robert to calm him down. Taking him in his arms and whispering soothing things into his ear did the wonder often, but two times Will couldn't help but let the tears flow. And Rob let him. It was better to let the emotional pressure out than to suppress it. And he was grateful that neither Connor nor Elison mentioned it the next morning. Of course they had to be woken up by Klink's screams and quiet sobs, but they were decent enough to stay silent about it.

The knowledge of the inhumane suffering the Jewish, but also Polish and Russian people, had been forced to endure changed something in Klink – not much, but still existing. Despite that he was still healing, he worked part time in his office again. Of course, Hogan protested, but this time the US officer bit on granite.

"I'm well cared for, I have medical treatment, and I'm doing far better. So to sit at a desk and write some lists and documents is no problem. When I imagine all those people forced to work without even getting something proper to eat or watch their dear ones be murdered, I should kiss the earth seeing in what good position I am."

Schultz was uncharacteristically quiet since his talk with Hogan – at least for a few days. The Heroes tried to cheer him up, but for once it was for naught. Langenscheidt recognized his friend's depressed mood, and as he stepped onto the compound a morning later, even those who didn't know him well could see that he hadn't slept well and had puffy eyes. He also had learned the truth now.

Distraction came with the great effort to get nourishment. The new delivery from Nürnberg was only enough for a few days, even if the portions were strictly restricted.

In the meantime, the war outside of the wires kept on raging. The German Navy began to evacuate more and more escapees and soldiers from East Prussia, going against Hitler's orders again to save as many people as possible. On Sunday, March 25th, more than 8,660 German soldiers were brought to safety, among them more than 2,830 casualties. The passenger ship 'Ubena' left the harbor of Danzig for the last time, carrying more than 4,000 civilians.

During the following days, the Allies continued to attack. British bombers flew air raids against Hannover, Osnabrück, and Münster, destroying not only facilities, but also many parts of the historical downtowns of cities. Thousands of civilians died in the flames. At the beginning of the week, the US Army reached Worms and Ludwigshafen at the Rhine River, conquered Darmstadt on Monday, and reached Wiesbaden, Mannheim, and Frankfurt three days later.

On Thursday, March 29th, the first of two 'days of fate' arrived. Not only for the citizens, but also for two men: Horst Schmidt and General Albert Burkhalter.

That morning of said Thursday, Holy Thursday above all, Schmidt received a phone call from Little Manfred's aunt, Charlotte Schwaigel. The American troops were closing up on Usingen. The townmaster was ready to surrender to the US soldiers, but resistance came from the local Gestapo, who threatened to punish every family that dared to raise a white flag. Charlotte was panicking as she called from the hospital she still worked at. Of course, she wanted to surrender like her neighbors, but she and her children were in danger from the Gestapo. She didn't know what to do and asked if Schmidt had a chance to get her and her children away from Usingen.

The Oberleutnant couldn't do any magic. He couldn't simply drive to Usingen to get her and the children by himself. Travels like that were almost impossible by now, given the state the roads and highways were in. Even the railroads to Frankfurt weren't complete anymore. Frau Schwaigel did not have a driver's license, so she couldn't borrow a car and try her luck by reaching Hammelburg, and he didn't know anyone trustworthy in the Frankfurt area to pick the woman and her children up.

So he tried to calm her down and advised her to do absolutely nothing until the US troops were in town. Then there was still time enough to raise a white flag. He promised her, though, to get some more information and call her back at the hospital. She also asked how far the adoption procedure for Manfred had gone, and Schmidt told her the appropriate authorities hadn't made any decision yet. Inwardly, he believed that they wouldn't do anything soon – with the Allies approaching more and more, and chaos that was ought to rise within town sooner or later, but he didn't need to tell her that. She was worried enough. Yet he promised to take care of Manfred no matter what, then he hung up. A visit in Stalag 13 was at order. After all, he had a certain advantage knowing a master spy/successful Underground agent, who was above all a high ranking US officer. Hogan had helped Schultz save his youngest son; certainly he could get some information for Schmidt concerning the advancing US troops in the area around Frankfurt.

Not trusting even his own men – except for Fuhrmann and a few other comrades – Schmidt didn't dare call the camp, but took his coat and cap and left the Gestapo and SS-Headquarters.

Twenty minutes later, his car pulled up in front of the Kommandantur. He saw a few of the POWs playing volleyball on the compound, others busy with doing laundry. Most sat on the ground in the sun, which shone after three days of cloudy and cold weather, enjoying the spring warmth. He recognized a few former prisoners of Camp 64 and Lieutenant Harrison, who tipped his temple as their eyes met. Schmidt returned the greeting, smiling a bit. The man looked far better, as did the others.

Stepping into the Kommandantur, he beamed as Hilda looked up with surprise and gave him one of her brilliant smiles.

"Horst, what a pleasant surprise."

"You know me; I love surprises," he answered, took his cap in his left hand, bent over the desk, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "How are you?"

"The same as yesterday evening," she answered with a giggle.

He grinned back. He had visited the Schneiders the evening prior, like so often within the last few weeks, and he hated it more and more to bid Hilda 'goodbye' instead of staying with her. He stroke her cheek with the backside of his fingers and was about to say something, when the door to the office opened.

"Oberleutnant Schmidt, is this a social visit, or is something the matter?"

Glancing up, Horst's eyes widened as he saw the tall, slim figure standing in the doorframe. "Oberst Klink. You're back on duty? That's a nice change," he said, real pleasure on his face.

"A few hours of sitting at the desk will not harm me – and I have to do something, or I'll go mad," Wilhelm replied, cocking his head, while his gaze went between his secretary and the young man.

Schmidt got the clue and quickly straightened his shape, while he felt some heat rising into his cheeks. "Uh…well…I first had to greet the lady and wanted to ask her if…"

Klink snorted, feeling some amusement for the first time in days. "No excuses are needed, young man. I know that you've turned my secretary's world upside-down. And I have to admit, you two are a good looking couple."

Hilda lowered her head a bit and gave him one of her half-knowing, half-flirting gazes from beneath her long lashes. "Amor's arrow seems to fly a lot recently, don't you agree, Herr Kommandant?"

Will chuckled. "I agree." He nodded before he turned serious again. "Has something happened, Herr Oberleutnant, or…"

"Frau Schwaigel, Manfred's aunt, called me," he interrupted the older man. "The US troops are technically standing at Usingen's doorstep. Everything is turning ugly, because the citizens and townmaster want to surrender, but the Gestapo is threatening with serious punishment should the people not fight the Allies. If you ask me, this is pure insanity." He saw how Klink and Hilda exchanged a startled gaze with each other and took a deep breath. "I have to speak with Colonel Hogan. Maybe he can inform the leading officers of said troop of the real situation within town and…can give me advice on what to do. Maybe there are certain signals the citizens can give the Americans to show them their true intentions without taking the risk of getting into trouble with the Gestapo and…"

Klink waved at him. "I understand. Come with me." He stepped into his office, went to the window, opened it, and shouted, "SCHUUUUUUULTZ!"

Schmidt cringed for a moment, then he had to grin. As it seems, everything was turning back to normal within Stalag 13. And, for some reason, it calmed his nerves.

The large Bavarian came running, stopped outside at the window, and saluted breathlessly, "You called, Herr Kommandant?"

"Bring Colonel Hogan over, please. It's urgent." Not waiting for an answer, he closed the window and offered his guest a chair. Hilda, feeling that she had to be involved in this case, entered the office, too. Will pointed at the other visitor chair before he sat down behind his desk.

They didn't wait long. Robert looked through the still open door and knocked with one hand against its frame. In the other hand, he carried his crush cap. "You wanted to speak with me, Kommanda…Schmidt!" He began to smile. "Nice of you to visit us."

Contraire to earlier times, like when he said something similar to Hochstetter, his voice was now free of any sarcasm and betrayed true joy. Not caring for all written and unwritten rules and laws concerning POWs and supposed enemies, he offered his hand to Schmidt, who took it and rose to pay the higher ranking and older officer his respect.

"Colonel Hogan, it's good to see you again."

Robert pursed his lips, while he took his crush cap now in both hands. "So, what are you doing here? I don't think you want to bring us some early Easter eggs."

Horst smirked for a moment. "No, my ears are too short to be an Easter Bunny." Then he sighed. "Officially, I'm checking on the new prisoners and if everything is in order here to ensure Hammelburg's safety."

"Officially?" Hogan lifted both brows. "So there is an unofficial reason you're here."

Klink had folded his hands on top of his desk and felt a smile tugging at his mouth. Typical his Robert.

"Well, unofficially, I'm here to ask you for a favor." He looked straight in the American's eyes, as he continued. "I wanted to ask you to contact London and get some information about the US troops near Frankfurt, which are about to conquer Usingen."

"Us…What please?" Rob was certain that he had heard this name before, but he couldn't place it.

"The little town where Manfred's aunt lives. She contacted me half an hour ago and told me that the Americans are about to seize the village. The citizens and townmaster want to surrender, but…" He grimaced. "My colleagues there are of the opinion that the people have to fight. If they don't put up any resistance but surrender, serious punishment is to be expected before the Americans can conquer the town and…liberate it." He glanced sideways. "I don't believe that I just coughed the seizing of a German town like this, but sadly it's the truth."

Hogan gaped at him. "Do I have this right?" he asked after managing to close his mouth. "The SS and Gestapo want to force a few hundred civilians to fight an entire army, getting killed in the process? And if not, they will be 'punished'? Don't get me wrong, Schmidt, but are your colleagues completely insane, or do they have a death wish of their own? Then they should do suicide without pulling those people with them to the Grim Reaper."

Schmidt threw his hands up. "You know how the SS ticks – or the Gestapo. Surrender is betrayal, and traitors have to die. They simply don't want to accept that this ugly game is over." He pinched his nose and calmed down again. "Colonel, can you call London to give that information to your troops? And…maybe there are further things the citizens can do to show the Americans that they don't want to fight without raising the Gestapo's attention? Maybe a few of the Aldermen can try to leave the town and meet with your officers, or…"

Hogan lifted a hand to stop the rambling. "I don't know how this whole surrender or not-surrender goes during our troops' advancing – or how a town can surrender unofficially because of some morons in black uniform." He pondered everything for a moment before he said, "Let me make a call first. I'll see what I can do for those people." He turned to leave, but looked back one last time. "Manfred's aunt – where is she?"

"She's at the hospital where she works as a nurse. She lives on a small street near the cemetery on the other side of the castle that still stands there. It's called the Rossmühlweg, house number 10. And her name is Charlotte Schwaigel."

"Charlotte Schwaigel, Rossmühlweg number 10, got it." Hogan sighed deeply and shook his head. "The Brass in London is going to call me crazy for getting our boys extra work for a few Germans, but…what are friends for?" Shaking his head at himself, he left, and Wilhelm, Horst and Hilda were certain that they heard him mumbling something like "The things I'm willing to do…"

Schmidt looked askingly at Klink, who chuckled softly. "He really does have a big heart," the Oberst murmured, while he rose.

"I agree," Horst whispered.

"So, do you come?" the Kommandant asked, while slipping into his coat.

"Where to?" The Oberleutnant was at loss to what the older man was referring.

"Simple. You're here officially to check on the new prisoners, so you have to do it." He made a generous gesture towards the door. "After you, young friend."

Blowing Hilda a hand kiss, Schmidt left the office, basically hearing Klink rolling his eyes.

*** HH ***

The inspection lasted half an hour. Schmidt met Connor again, who voiced anew his gratitude for the Oberleutnant's help over two weeks ago. Together, with the Lt. Colonel and Klink, they visited the infirmary, where those POWs that were still suffering from the camp fever were. They were doing better, but more than two dozen were still not fully healed and had to remain here. Those who had been cured had been released and lived in one of the other quarters – squeezed together like in a sardine can.

In the former casino, Schmidt saw Evan Martins again and was glad that the boy had survived. He still looked like a ghost, but he was awake and had his head on straight. His brother was with him. First, Evan shrank back as he saw the man in black, then his brother told him who it was, and the young man calmed down. "I don't have many memories of what happened between me leaving the train and waking up here, but…but I think I remember you…how you bent over me and somehow everything became warm," he rasped tentatively.

Schmidt looked down at the mere boy, who lay on his bunk covered with a blanket and glanced half uncertain, half askingly at him. "I gave you my coat and some of my tea. You were about to pass out, so…" He shrugged.

"The lieutenant did more," Steven said to his brother. "As I told you, he saved your life by stepping in as one of Hartmann's men wanted to shoot you. And he gave you some of his lunch, too."

Evan glanced up at the blonde German in the dreaded uniform, but the clothes didn't count all of a sudden. He saw the open, friendly gaze, remembered fragments of what happened, and offered Schmidt his hand. "I owe you my life, sir. Thank you. My family will always be in your debt," he said quietly.

"He's right," Steven nodded. "Whatever will come in the near future – Evan and I will be at your side. You're a good man, and if you need someone to put in a good word for you after the war, we'll be there. Promise."

Schmidt felt touched, while he shook Evan's hand, sensing Klink and Connor's gazes resting on him. "I only did what every decent man should do: Prevent a crime from happening." He took a deep breath. "And to say the truth, pity overwhelmed me as I saw the condition you and your comrades were in. What happened to you was a monstrous misdeed, and I wanted to help, that's all."

"Just like you did this morning," another voice from behind him said.

Turning around, Schmidt came face to face with Hogan. The colonel had pushed his crush cap deep into his neck, making the unruly lock of his dark hair fall onto his high forehead, and his leather jacket was open. He looked relaxed, yet Horst had learned to read the man; Hogan was tense, and his eyes mirrored seriousness. Like so often he wore an own kind of mask.

"Colonel, is everything all right?" he asked.

Of course, Rob knew what Schmidt asked for real; shall I accompany you? "Everything is all right, Lieutenant. If you want, I'll give you my report as senior POW officer in the Kommandant's office."

Schmidt nodded. "Okay." He drove his attention back to Evan and Steven. "Get better soon, and don't worry for the future. I don't think this damn war will last much longer now, and you can all go home." He smiled at the two brothers and the others around him before he left with Klink, Connor, and Hogan.

As the door closed behind him, Steven exchanged a baffled gaze with the others. "Did he just wish for the Allies to win this war and get us home, or did I misunderstand him?"

A tall Canadian private shook his head. "You understood him correctly, mate. This guy has a soft heart, no doubt there." He glanced towards the closed door. "I only hope his comrades never learn of his true thoughts, or he'll be done for. Call me crazy, but for once I don't wish a SS guy ill."

"That's because he is no 'SS guy', despite his uniform," another POW sighed and lay back again on his bunk, closing his eyes to find some more sleep.

"The world is crazy," Steven murmured, before he smiled.

*** HH ***

"They shall do WHAT?" Schmidt stared with large eyes at Hogan, while Klink looked owl-like at his lover. Hilda frowned and glanced at Connor, who was indeed smirking, while Schultz beside him blinked in confusion.

"You heard me. Open window shutters, roll-up roller blinds, and people standing in front of the houses means 'You're welcome here'. In other word, 'We surrender'. A white flag isn't necessary. Blankets are needed on a bed, not in a window. And to wash them afterwards is hard." He glanced aside. "I still hear my mother complaining whenever bed cloths had to be washed."

Klink began to polish his monocle. "And this kind of communication was agreed on how?"

Hogan chuckled softly. "It was agreed on during practical experiences and are done a few dozen times until now. When the people feared reprisals with the Gestapo or SS – or when the SS or Wehrmacht was there and wanted to fight – the citizens of the little towns and villages showed their true intentions like this. They opened the window shutters or the doors and stood outside in the open. It also means that the Allies don't have to fear any traps, because Wehrmacht or SS members could hide behind half closed windows. But when the shutters are open, there can't be a trap."

He placed his crush cap beside Will's Pickelhaube, which earned him a baffled risen eyebrow of his lover. Well, they were equals now, weren't they?

"I also informed the Brass about the situation in Usingen – that the Gestapo doesn't allow surrender, but that the people won't put up any resistance. They linked me to the advancing troops to inform their commanding officer directly." He glanced at Schultz. "Just guess to which Army the troops belong and are about to seize the town."

"The 3rd?" The large Bavarian made a shot in the dark, and Hogan pointed a finger at him.

"You got yourself a hundred points." He chuckled, and shook his head.

As he saw Schmidt's confused face, he explained. "It's the same one that conquered Coblenz under the command of General Patton – the very same one I contacted to get Schultz's son and friend to safety." He snorted in amused sarcasm, while he put his hands on his hips. "I had a kind of déjà-vu as London passed me through to Colonel Hudson – again."

Klink laughed quietly. "I can imagine his reaction as he heard you on the line."

Rob snickered. "He suggested that I should make a list with towns and those people which belong to my friends and have to be treated special. It would be easier like that than contacting him and his comrades every few days."

Schultz grinned at him, while Schmidt glanced at the Sergeant of the Guards. "Your son is safe?"

"Ja, he is. He is still in Coblenz in the US Headquarters and got himself a protector and friend. He and Frank will stay there until Heidelberg is liberated." He gave Hogan a warm glance. "Thanks to Colonel Hogan."

Horst watched 'Papa Bear' squirming a little bit. "It was nothing, Schultz. I help my friends when they need support – and to get two boys out of danger is something I would do for everyone." He turned his attention back to Schmidt. "Concerning the young lady and her children; contact her, and let her know what to do when our boys are coming. Colonel Hudson gave the leader of the troops her address. She and the kids have nothing to fear – not from us. But she should be wary of your comrades."

Horst made a face. "Just imagine; the 'enemy' is a lesser danger than our own executive forces. What has become of Germany?"

"A nightmare," Klink deadpanned. "One that hopefully will end soon. And then we have a lot to do – not only to rebuild our country, but there will be even more effort needed to make up to those we tormented, kidnapped, and killed."

Schmidt cocked his head and frowned as he saw the hard and bitter guilt deep in the older man's eyes. Something had happened – something that had shaken the Oberst deeply. But he thought it better to not mention it. Whatever it was, it was too early to address it, because Klink first had to come to terms with it. So he glanced back at Hogan, who watched his secret lover with barely hidden concern. Yes, something bad had happened, and he hoped that the following days of Easter would distract Klink. He couldn't know that the next few days would bring some distraction, yes, but in its worst form.

*** HH ***

The following morning, Klink slipped out of bed early, washed, and put on his clothes. He was as silent as possible, but of course, Hogan woke up.

"What's the matter?" He asked sleepily.

Will only gave him a gentle smile, bent over him, pressed a loving kiss to his lips, and left. That got Robert's attention.

Leaving bed, he went to the living room and watched Klink walk to the main gates while carrying a bottle. He returned the guards' salute and left camp. Scratching his head, Robert went to the bathroom and started to prepare himself for the day, confused with what was going on.

As he was done and almost completely clothed, Wilhelm returned. He brought a billow of coldness with him.

"Morning," Rob greeted. His face betrayed his burning curiosity. "What was that about?" He asked, pointing into the direction of the main gates.

Will smiled at him, lay a finger against his lips, waved at him to follow, and led him into the living room. His coat and cap hung at the dresser, the bottle he had taken with him stood on the table with two glasses and…a whole loaf of bread. He filled the two glasses with the bottle's contain – water. Then he crossed the bread, broke it, and offered the younger man one of the glasses and piece of bread.

Realizing that this had to be a kind of ritual – being Good Friday – Robert took the offered glass and piece of bread that was still warm and followed Wilhelm's lead as the older man first ate some, then sipped at the glass of water.

'Like a Eucharist,' Hogan thought. 'Only it's not done in a church and not given by a priest.'

They emptied the glass and ate the two pieces of broken bread, then Klink folded his hands and started with the Lord's Prayer in German. Robert, only knowing the English version, did the same in his own language with a hushed voice.

Only then Klink began to spoke quietly. "It's a Saxonian ritual on Good Friday my father always valued a lot. Near our house in Leipzig flow a stream, and every early morning of Good Friday, my mother and other women of the neighborhood went to the stream, got fresh water, and brought it home. Fresh bread was always baked then, and no one was allowed to speak until we had celebrated a kind of private Eucharist in memory of the last evening our Lord Jesus was betrayed. The silence is kept to show our mourning, water and bread symbolized Jesus'…last meal."

Robert pondered the information before he mused, "A profound ritual, I have to admit. I never heard of it before, but it makes a lot of sense."

Klink nodded. "As Saxonian, I'm Lutheran. Today's is one of the most holy days within our denomination. Jesus sacrificed his life to redeem us all from our sins. It's a day we all go to church. There are no choral or songs, and we eat no meat. Usually fish is served at midday – in memorial of Bethlehem. Fish are one of the symbols of the Jewish people in conjunction with Petrus, who was a fisherman before he followed Jesus." He lowered his head. "Something these monsters out there simply decided to forget." He sighed deeply. "Three days later, on Easter Sunday, Jesus rose from the dead and defeated death. In my eyes, Easter is the most important feast of our Christian beliefs, because it is of death and resurrection. It's the original assertion of our religion."

Robert reached out and placed a hand on Will's shoulder, recognizing the true desire that urged the older man to do this rite. "These whole…happenings – what had been done in the name of the Third Reich – shook you deeply," he whispered. "Therefore this ritual."

Will shrugged. "You see, I tried to hold onto this ritual even during times of war – in memory of my father, for whom my mother followed all this, because this kind of celebration is mostly unknown out of Saxony. She came from Düsseldorf. Last year, I did it for myself within the last three years – an hour before roll call. Now…now I have someone to share it with." He glanced up. "And this is another part of this whole feast; staying together in the face of Jesus' sacrifice and rebirth."

Looking down on the bread and bottle, Hogan began to grasp the deepness of what Will had done. "You brought me fresh water and bread – blood and flesh of our Lord – to share it with me, and then we prayed together. That's something that never occurred to me before." He felt touched. "Thank you, Wilhelm."

"You're most welcome," Klink answered. "I don't know how you celebrate Good Friday in the US, but in Germany, these days are a deep meaning for the Lutherans, while the Catholics rather celebrate on Easter Sunday – the glory. We Lutherans rather see the whole picture. Before you rise, you have to fall." He sighed again. "It's not easy to understand for all Christians."

Hogan nodded. "Yes, I know. I'm Catholic, because I have Irish roots, but we celebrate Good Friday, too. In eleven states it's even a public holiday. Many churches are offering services for silent prayers; many people do Lent on this day. Others eat no meat at all. In many churches, the candles are doused and will only be enflamed on Easter Sunday. The lack of light shall symbolize Jesus' death." He began to smile. "But, of course, we have an Easter hare, too. We decorate our flats or gardens with eggs, colored eggs have to be searched by the children…" He grinned. "I think it's the same here."

"Yes, Easter Sunday is a rather jolly day," Will nodded and looked deeply in Robert's eyes. "I hope this Easter Sunday will be a good one, too."

They couldn't know that this Easter Sunday would be a day no one would ever forget.

*** HH *** HH ***

While on Good Friday weapons fell quiet, and all combats stopped in respect of the day's background, the life in Stalag 13 continued peacefully. Wilson had a Bible, and he read the crucifixion story in the compound, surrounded by hundreds of POWs. Langenscheidt did the same in German for the guards, and somehow Klink had managed to get everyone an extra slice of bread. He didn't tell Hogan how he got enough flour for the bakery in camp to make the extra portion happen, but it was welcomed by everyone. And Robert simply knew that Will had paid an enormous sum from his own wallet to make it happen.

But Stalag 13 wasn't the only place that used the chance of ceasefire for once. In Berlin, the Brass went separate ways as far as their original houses and flats. Burkhalter indulged himself with a day off the Wannsee, a large lake in the outer area of Berlin. Even there the tracks of war were plain to see, but he enjoyed the silent nature and fresh air, then returned late to the city – not knowing that this would be the last time he would see the lake.

The next day, troops of the 3rd US Army reached Usingen. Charlotte Schwaigel had received the call from Schmidt two days ago in the evening at the flat of her friend, Eva Wehage, and had spread the information on what to do to show surrender without giving the Gestapo an idea. The advice was given in secrecy from neighbor to neighbor, colleague to colleague.

As the first tanks rolled down the street on March 31st, the window shutters and blinders were open, and even a few SS men and Gestapo members didn't know what to make of the fact that almost all citizens were on the streets, standing in front of their houses or working places. To the Gestapo's dismay, the townmaster all of sudden was at the town's edge. None of them had seen him approaching that part of the city, but there he stood – white flag in hand and waving it at the GIs.

The order of the leading Gestapo officer to shoot the man and put up resistance against the advancing Americans fell on deaf ears. Even most of his own men threw their weapons away and lifted their hands, glaring at him. They all stood a better chance of survival if they surrendered.

Like this, Usingen was seized without any problems, and the town came out of war without great damages or losses. As the first Jeeps and trucks drove through the town, and more soldiers began to secure the streets, Frau Schwaigel got the shock of her life as an American officer and two GIs headed towards her, checked something on a writing pad, glanced at the street sign, and addressed her in German with a heavy accent.

"Frau Charlotte Schwaigel?" One asked the four women in front of house number 10.

Afraid, the young woman lifted her hand. "Das bin ich (That's me)," she answered quietly.

The man smiled at her with very white teeth, winked at her children, and said in broken German, "Grusse von Lieutenant Schmidt and Colonel Hogan. Du und Kinder keine Angst, alles gut. Nichts passieren euch. (Greetings from Lieutenant Schmidt and Colonel Hogan. You and your children do not fear, everything good. Nothing happen to you.)" He bowed his head, said something to his companions, who wrote a few notes down, offered the children some bars of chocolate, and continued to check the other houses.

Eva Wehage stared at her, while the kids eagerly unpacked the chocolate. "Did I get that right?" She asked quietly. "This…this colonel and SS-Leutnant Schmidt gave those men orders to search for you and pass you a message?"

Charlotte helplessly lifted her shoulders. "It seems so. Obviously Oberleutnant Schmidt asked him for that favor, and he agreed. But don't ask me how he was able to contact his comrades. He's a POW and…" She shook her head as a thought occurred to her; that said POW officer was anything but a real POW. "Who ever this colonel is for real, God bless him."

And a few hundred kilometers away, someone else sent a short prayer to the Lord – not to ask for the blessing of someone else, but for a plea of help.

Albert Burkhalter stared at the telephone he just hung up after the harsh discussion – dispute – with his 'dear friend', knowing that he had dared too much. Now he was lost.

TBC…

Yes, you ask rightfully: What the hell happened? Sorry, but you've to wait 'til the next chapter is posted.

It will hold more than only this answer, but a huge twist is going to happen, too, what will change everything for everyone in Stalag 13 and in the end in Hammelburg…

I hope, you liked the new chapter, even if it held a sadly-well-known topic, but also a few new things. If you wonder about Klink's Good Friday Ritual - my own granny celebrated it a lot of times, while she, her husband and my father and unlce - still children - still lived in Dresden. It's a more Saxonian tradition, and I wanted Klink to let have it, too, after all, he's from the same country and the two towns Leipzig and Dresden are not far away from each other. I really hope, you liked this little insight of the Saxonian people.

Like always, I'd be happy to get some reviews.

Have a nice rest of the week,

Love

Yours Starflight