Hi, my dear readers,

Once again I have to beg for pardon that I publish the next chapter this late, but there is not only so much to do in my job at the moment, I also have to deal with new formulas, new rules for by business and so on. You know we Germans have a knack for bureaucracy, but what I'm facing at the moment here is really the top of craziness. Hogan was right: The Allies should have wait until we're so caught up in our bureaucracy that they would have had an easy game to play with us (sigh).

Thank you so much for the feedback. I'm sure you're damn curious what will happen to 'Burki' now and how Hogan will react. Therefore I won't let you wait any longer, and off you go to Stalag 13.

Have fun

Love

Yours Starflight

Chapter 96 – An unusual deal

Morning began in Stalag 13 like usual. The POWs were woken up and made a short morning toilette, the guards of the night shift went to bed while the others took over, and breakfast was prepared in the camp's kitchen – smaller than ever before. The camp was running out of nourishment, and a new supply was expected within the next two or three days.

Schultz was washing himself as a knock came at his door. Before he could even say 'enter', Langenscheidt stepped in. "Sorry to disturb you this early, Hans, but I wanted to inform you that General Burkhalter arrived here last night."

That got the Bavarian's attention. "General Burkhalter? What does he want now?"

Karl shrugged. "I have no clue. He arrived sometime after three o'clock in the morning, ordered some of the carrot stew, then he slept in the backroom of the Kommandantur. And if the noise is not coming from a rusty saw, then it's him still snoring like a bear."

Groaning, Schultz threw his towel beside the washing bowl. "I'll inform the big shot. He'll be delighted to have the Sacher cake here for Easter."

*** HH ***

Klink and Hogan were already up. Yes, it was only seven o'clock, but outside the weather promised to be sunny, and they wanted to enjoy this day as much as possible – even without the chance to stick to any Easter traditions. Roll call wouldn't happen within the next hour, and they wanted to have a little breakfast with Connor and Elison.

A loud banging against the front door, followed by the well-known "HERR KOMMANDAAAAANT!" interrupted the peace.

Klink almost shot up into the air. "Was zum Teufel…(What the hell)," he gasped, only to turn angry a second later. "Has that Dummkopf lost his mind?" He strode through the living room, unlocked the front door, and tore it open. "Schultz, God dammit, why such a racket on this holy Sunday mor…"

"Herr Kommandant, General Burkhalter arrived here last night."

Wilhelm stared at him with wide eyes. "Ach du dickes Ei." He sighed. (Literally translated: Alas, you thick/fat egg; German equivalent for 'Good Heavens'.)

"Well, he does resemble a big egg," Hogan commented from the middle of the living room, twisting the German phrase into a gag.

"And it fits so well with Easter Sunday," Connor joked, coming out of the guestroom in his nightclothes. "Regrettably, it's not a chocolate egg."

"And that, when he's called the 'Sacher cake'," Elison grumbled good-naturedly, snickering at his own joke. "After all, this cake is covered with chocolate."

"Yet I doubt it'll be too hard to find him like a real Easter egg. His 'nest' is easy to find with all the snoring he does," Hogan said.

"Very funny, Robert." Wilhelm rebuked him, while heading to the sleeping chamber to get dressed. "General Burkhalter means trouble, and this on Easter. I really don't look forward of having him here. I have no clue what he could possibly want."

"Just ask him," Hogan answered innocently, and the older man rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure I'll learn of it soon enough." Klink looked over his shoulder. "Schultz?"

"Ja?" The Bavarian replied.

"Roll call in a quarter hour. I don't want to give the fat general the wrong impression that we're relaxed here." He glanced at Hogan and the other Americans. "Gentlemen, this means that you have to be out in the compound, too, so please switch from nightgowns and pajamas into your uniforms, will you?"

Rob made a face. "Now I see what you mean with 'Burkhalter is trouble'. I really wanted to have a nice breakfast and maybe another nap."

"If I don't have a peaceful Sunday morning, you won't have it either, my dear Hogan. Cling together, swing together, you know."

"As long as you don't take it more literally in the general's presence, it's okay," Elison commented wryly. "You'd probably give him a heart attack." Smirking, he turned towards the guestroom to get changed. And he didn't need to look back to know that the two colonels stared at him with big eyes, while Connor frowned in utter confusion.

*** HH ***

Roll call happened a quarter hour later. Yes, it was later than usual, but Klink refrained from any additional rigmarole, wished everyone a 'Happy Easter', then released the men only half a minute later.

To Klink's relief, the door to the Kommandantur remained closed. And if he listened closely, he could hear something like sewing, meaning that a snoring Burkhalter was still in dreamland.

While the life in camp went on, the two colonels enjoyed their breakfast with Connor, Harrison, and Elison, while Schmidt looked forward to the Schneiders' invitation for lunch. Going through a few files, he enjoyed the fresh air that came through the open windows. He heard the church bells ringing and listened to a few people talking as they headed to church.

A knock came on his door, and Fuhrmann stepped in. "Herr Oberleutnant, a telegram from Berlin. From the order of the Reichsführer."

Frowning and highly alerted, Schmidt turned around. "A telegram from Himmler? For me?" he asked, feeling his hackles rising.

"No, it seems to be an official circular letter. Looks pretty urgent, too." He closed the door behind him and offered the paper to Schmidt, who took it and opened it.

The Oberleutnant's expression turned from surprised to flabbergasted, then finally very grim as he paled. "I can't believe this," he whispered. "Have they all turned insane now?" he growled, crumpling the paper in his fist.

"What is it?" Fuhrmann asked softly.

"General Burkhalter has fallen from grace – simply like that." He snapped the fingers of his free hand. "This is an order to raise road barriers and search for him. He is wanted dead or alive."

The sergeant gaped at him. "What has he done to be hunted down like this? Has he stolen silver cutlery from the Führer's table, or what?"

Schmidt snorted angrily. "No, they want him for treason and desertion. Treason – General Burkhalter! That gives one a horse laugh, if it wouldn't be so sad. This man may not agree with any crazy order coming from Berlin, but he is loyal. To accuse him of being a traitor is…stupid."

"And the accusation of desertion?" Fuhrmann dug deeper.

Rolling his eyes, Horst turned towards the open fireplace and threw the paper into the flames. "Unbelievable. I'd rather think that he learned of falling from grace and preferred to flee instead of being executed – or getting the 'honor' of killing himself. The speed in which staff officers are suspected and replaced recently makes me dizzy."

The older man grimaced and nodded. "What do you want to do?" he asked quietly, knowing how much it all had to stick to his superior's craw. Burkhalter had saved Schmidt's life, and a few times the two had worked together. Schmidt respected and liked the Austrian, there was no doubt about it.

"Order is an order," Schmidt said. "I have to raise road barriers and send a few of our men out to look for him. In the telegram, it was mentioned that Burkhalter was presumed to flee to the north, but he wasn't found until now." He cocked his head. "Maybe this is his chance."

"You think he lay a fake trail and travelled south – maybe to here?" Fuhrmann mused.

Horst sighed deeply. "I have no clue. It would be crazy for him to come here. Certainly the Gestapo will start searching for him here."

Fuhrmann hid a smirk. "Uh, sir, you're the Gestapo here."

Horst frowned and snorted, rolling his eyes simultaneously. "Yeah…" he grumbled, feeling like he'd been placed between two fronts. Then he sighed. "Even if it sounds like I'm a traitor, I hope that he isn't somewhere around in the area. I hate the idea of arresting him."

Fuhrmann closed the distance to the younger man and murmured, "Maybe he came to Hammelburg. He knows the area well. Maybe he's already here. We both know where he would go."

Schmidt frowned again and looked at his confidant first with confusion, then he replied slowly, "Stalag 13. You think he tried to reach Stalag 13."

The sergeant nodded. "We both know that he favors that camp, despite the fact that Kommandant Klink kills his nerves. I've been there often enough to judge that. There's something strange going on there – and the fulcrum of all those odd happenings within the camp is a certain American we both know. And the general knows it, too." He met Schmidt's alerted gaze and added quietly, "I can't say for certain, but I have a gut feeling that General Burkhalter is maybe desperate enough to try something he hasn't believed to be true until now."

Fuhrmann did not need to say more. Schmidt knew what – or better to say whom – the sergeant referred to: Papa Bear. Even without having all the details and knowledge Horst had, it was more than obvious that this top spy and saboteur was connected to the area – and every piece of evidence pointed to one particular place: Stalag 13. Hochstetter knew it, Burkhalter knew it, too, but even the general closed his eyes against the truth. Maybe now it came in handy for him.

Horst hoped that Burkhalter would try to get help from Hogan, even if he didn't know how the colonel would react to such a request.

*** HH *** HH ***

"Berlin is in an uproar, so to say," Burkhalter told Klink, while sipping at his tea. "Everyone is on high alert and grumpy." He sat in the Kommandant's quarters, had a small breakfast, and looked tired as a puppy. But that was not all. The man was tense like a bow ready to let the arrow fly, and he was extremely jumpy. Two times loud noises from outside had been heard within the wooden building, and both times the general practically leaped from his chair. And until now, he hadn't told Klink the reason he was there.

He had come out of the backroom of Klink's office around eleven o'clock, had exchanged a few words with the Saxonian, who sat at his desk, and declared he needed some fresh air. Then he made a round over the compound, spoke with Hogan and Connor for a bit, then accompanied Klink to the private quarters, where he had the breakfast he barely touched. Something was not right here. Klink knew it in his bones.

"And so you decided to take a few days off during Easter and travelled to the most beautiful recovery place possible: Stalag 13," he half joked, half pulled his superior's leg.

Burkhalter gave him one of his special glances. "Don't be a fool, Klink. Of course I'm not here to celebrate the holidays." He shook his head as if the pure thought of something like it was outrageous. Then he took a deep breath. "I'm here because I have a special mission. But before it takes place, I have to wait for some more information." He placed the empty cup back on the saucer. "It's top secret, Klink, so no one can learn that I'm here."

"Sorry, Herr General, but your impressive figure is not easy to oversee and…"

"Klink! This isn't funny!"

"Of course not," Wilhelm sighed, grimacing inwardly. Sweet Lord, the Sacher cake's mood was not in the cellars; it was down in the lowest level of a coal mine.

Burkhalter shot him another glare and continued. "Like I said: My presence here has to be kept a secret. My dear friend Heinrich assumes another rebellion is planned against the Führer. Whoever contacts you and asks you if I'm here, you tell them that you haven't seen me within the last week and a half. Is that clear?!"

"Very." Klink nodded quickly, even if he asked himself what was really going on. Burkhalter told him only half of everything. He was certain about it.

"Good," Albert nodded, then relaxed a little bit before he leaned back in his chair. "So, tell me, Klink; how is everything going in the ca…"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Schultz stepped in. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sirs, but Oberleutnant Schmidt is on the line and asked to speak with you, Herr Kommandant."

"What does he want?" Burkhalter asked, highly alarmed.

Schultz shrugged. "He said it's half private, half business, so I didn't ask more questions."

"Put him through," Klink replied, pointing at the telephone while rising.

"He has radioed us, Herr Oberst, and therefore…"

Wilhelm groaned and nodded. "Yes, I know. I have to answer the call in the office." He took his cap. "Do you want to accompany me, Herr General, or…"

"Are you daft?" Burkhalter snapped, before he lifted a hand. "No, don't answer it." He made a face before addressing Schultz. "I already told Klink, and now I'm telling you; I'm here on a secret mission. Officially, I'm NOT here, so don't tell anyone about my presence. Not even young Schmidt!"

Hans frowned. Half of the guards had seen the staff officer wandering around this morning, but he skipped from pointing that detail out. The general was tense like a barrel of powder with a burning torch close by.

"Is scho' recht," he nodded, remembered that he was speaking to a general, saluted quickly, then followed Klink outside into the compound, where many POWs were playing football.

Burkhalter watched them go and took another deep breath, grateful for some time alone. Yes, he knew that he had to hurry. Time was running short if he wanted to reveal Hogan's secret and talk the American into helping him, but he couldn't confront the colonel so bluntly. He had to be cleverer than that witty Ami.

And it was the exact problem he hadn't found any solution to until now. Maybe he had to take Klink on board, and they both could find a way out – a step he didn't want to do.

Realizing only now that the temperature in the room was lowering, he rose with a grumble and went to the furnace. It was obvious that Schultz or the ordonnance had forgotten to add new wood into the fire, and heading towards the basket with firewood, the general oversaw the turned back edge of the carpet. Stumbling over it, he hectically reached out to anything he could steady himself against and found a hold on the furnace at the very last moment. That means, he found a little bit of a hold, because the usually heavy equipment moved halfway.

Finding his balance, the general straightened his frame and was about to pull the furnace back to its original place, when he felt a cold hue coming from the floor. Frowning, he looked down and went rigid.

There, directly beneath the usual place the furnace stood, was a hole. A large one. Wheezing, he knelt down in front of it. It was just small enough not to destabilize the furnace, but wide enough to give a grown man room to climb through it via the ladder that was placed there.

Burkhalter's eyes were about to bulge out of his head. He knew exactly what he had found – and who was behind it. "Hogan." He whispered. "You damn bastard, I knew it!"

*** HH ***

Unaware of what just happened, Hogan stood beside Kinch down in the tunnels, LeBeau to his right. As Robert was doing the usual paperwork as Senior POW Officer, Louis had come in to inform him that London was hailing them. Now the colonel waited impatiently as the message from London was passed through and watched Kinch.

"Roger, London. Over and out." Kinch switched off the radio, offered Hogan the note, and set the headset down on the table. Pursing his lips, the colonel read the message with a growing smile.

"What is it?" LeBeau wanted to know.

"It was a more private message for the Colonel," Kinch answered. "Little Manfred's aunt resumed her job at the hospital, and she and her kids are well." He sighed with a smile. "I'm sure the news will make a certain young couple happy."

LeBeau smirked. "Ha, l'amour."

"Yes, and if I have another request like this, London will commit me to the next insane asylum," Hogan joked, before he turned towards his second in command. "Kinch, radio London my sincerest thanks for their assistance in this private matter. I will…Kinch?" He stopped as he glanced at his closest friend, who sat there rigid like stone and looked with utter shock at something behind Hogan. And not only he seemed to have turned into a pillar of salt, but LeBeau, too.

Knowing instantly that something was very wrong, the colonel whirled around and froze. Behind him, at the junction between the radio room and the telephone room, stood no one else than General Albert Burkhalter.

*** HH *** HH ***

Connor watched a few of his men playing football with a few of Hogan's men. They had built separate teams, and while Elison, Baker and Newkirk were the main and sideline referees, a large crowd had gathered around the two teams and cheered. And if Ryan glanced up towards the watch towers at the main gates, he saw that most of the guards were watching the game, obviously making wagers.

'This could be a kind of life we all would have enjoyed within the last few years – combats fought as sport games, with no bloodshed. No deaths and only playful rivalry. But look what happened instead of it: A war that's shaken the whole world and already costed millions of lives. Only because of one insane guy and his fellows. I think no one would know what war meant, if those who wanted to have it would have to endure it the most.'

With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall of Barracks 3, while he became aware of a certain human urge that began to increase. Looking over to the official restrooms, he saw that he would have to push through many POWs to reach the building, so he glanced backwards. Yes, to reach the Kommandant's quarters was certainly easier. Pushing himself away from the wall, he walked towards the building.

He reached it, climbed up the stairs, and stepped into the house. His eyes had to adjust to the semi-twilight because of the bright daylight outside, then he entered the living room – only to stop dead in his tracks.

In rising horror, he watched the massive figure of General Burkhalter vanish into the tunnels beneath the furnace. On tiptoes, Connor closed the distance to the secret tunnel and glanced down. He felt an icy fist gripping for his stomach as he saw the Austrian lift a flashlight and finger for his pistol. Hogan needed help – now. Before it came to the worst. But without any weapon, Connor stood no chance against the armed general.

On silent feet, he hastened to the door and left the building, all but running over the compound. There was only one man who could prevent a catastrophe from happening

*** HH *** HH ***

Hogan could only stare at the German staff officer and felt like a bucket of icy water had been emptied over him. He had hoped to keep the tunnels a secret until the US troops were here. But his hope had been for naught. There he stood, General Burkhalter, in the middle of their main rooms wearing his usual uniform, pistol in hand, flashlight still switched on, but pointing to the ground.

Their eyes met, and Hogan almost took a step backwards as he saw the anger, triumph, but also something else in Burkhalter's eyes he couldn't place.

"Close your mouth, Hogan. Down here there are no flies you could catch," the general broke the silence and came nearer, waving his pistol to signal the three men to move to the wall to his right.

The colonel knew that it would be foolish to do something rash, so he nodded towards Kinch and LeBeau, rose his hands and stepped aside, making room for Burkhalter. With grim faces, Kinch and Louis followed his example, glaring daggers at the general.

Burkhalter made certain to have them still in full view, while he closed the distance to the radio station, placed the flashlight on the table, reached out, and pulled the device around to have a better look at it. "Wide-range transmitter and antenna, low-band receiver, recorder…a , if I'm not mistaken. Quite a nice device you got yourself here, Sergeant Kinchloe. It's small, but has everything you need to speak with someone in faraway range – London, for example. Just like Hogan ordered you to contact." He shook his head. "And to think how often we almost located this radio and therefore you, Hogan…" He snorted. "But somehow you always were a step ahead, even at the end of February as we almost got the secret radio while the new rocket launcher was tested." He glanced at Hogan. "Any chance to tell me who is your information source?" He lifted his free hand. "Don't struggle with an excuse. I think I know who it is."

He glanced at a very pale LeBeau. "And the telephone station back there," he flipped his free thumb over his shoulder. "Is worth to be installed in any communication station in Berlin. But given your accent, I don't think it's you whose voice I heard here and there on the line when I called Stalag 13 or received a call from here. Thinking closer of it, I guess it's your English pal, Newkirk, who works with it. When an Englishman speaks German, it always sounds rather…stiff."

He turned his attention back to Hogan, whose face had lost all color. Again, both men only looked at each other – Hogan for once at a loss of what to say.

Burkhalter took a deep breath. "So, Hochstetter had been right all the time," he said quietly. "He was sentenced to eight years of prison and died in the end, and for what? For the truth he found out?" He shook his head. "I hadn't liked him, to say the least, but he did his job better than I ever gave him credit for. You are, indeed, a spy and saboteur and worked beneath our noses for years."

Hogan straightened his frame. There was no denying anymore. "Yes," he said calmly, but also proud.

Another snort escaped the general. "And you are Papa Bear."

The colonel nodded. "Yes, I'm Papa Bear."

Burkhalter felt a wave of relief, but also wrath. There stood this damn Ami and was even proud to have bamboozled dozens of Gestapo and Wehrmacht officers, while he left tracks of destructions and missions that went awry. "And you are the man who is responsible for all the odd incidents, sabotages, and vanished people in the area," the general stated.

Again, Hogan only made an affirming gesture and lifted slightly his chin. "Yes, that was me, too."

Burkhalter stared at him for a few more seconds – the impertinence. It demanded his respect, while he realized how close he, Hochstetter, and all the others had been to revealing the colonel's true identity and mission. Hogan had almost made it to keep it a secret until the end of the war. Almost. No clever schemes, no traps, nothing had worked – but him stumbling over a carpet finally led to success.

He began to laugh – to the others' astonishment. "Incredible. But somehow I knew it all the time. You really gave us the run around for three years; sending entire teams of our Intelligence on goose hunts, while you were safe within this camp and leaned back, rubbed your hands, and already planned the next sabotage. The whole time you delivered the perfect show of the caught American officer, who was locked up in a POW camp and was completely misunderstood by those who suspected him. Hell, you even won my protection here and there by playing the impish, oversized boy who has a witty mouth, but couldn't hurt a fly. I almost have the urge to applaud you, Hogan."

The colonel shrugged, still tensed and in absolute alert. "Just do it. I'll even bow."

"Yes, just like it should be when a good actor receives his kudos. Yet I would be forced to put the pistol aside if I wanted to applaud, and that is less wise given the whole situation."

"And yet it would be the best you could do, because it would spare us all a very nasty scene."

The voice behind the general was well known to all of them – and Burkhalter closed his eyes in resignation. "Of course," he murmured. "I knew it the moment I found these tunnels and especially the entrance." He opened his eyes again. "Of course it has to be you, Klink. Even you couldn't be this blind and deaf not to realize what was going on beneath your feet for all those months and years."

He slowly turned around, weapon still aimed at Hogan. His glance found Klink, who stood at the junction between the tunnel and radio room, pistol pointing straight at the staff officer. He was flanked by Newkirk and Carter, while behind him stood Connor – face stern.

"Please, Herr General; lower your weapon," Klink said softly, but also firmly. "I don't want to shoot you, but I will do it as soon as you try to hurt him." He gestured with his free hand towards Robert.

Burkhalter lifted both brows and snorted. "I don't doubt that for one moment. Woe someone threats your beloved friend Hogan, then you turn into a hyena." He chuckled without any humor. "You two always had an odd connection, bickering and yet sticking together like a married couple; getting on each other's nerves, but also fond of the other enough to forget all rules – the written and unwritten ones. I could bet my last shirt that the most crazy Underground cell was here – led by you two." He lowered his weapon and lay it on the table, resignation spread over his face.

Hogan let go of the breath he had held, quickly closed the distance to the table, and took the pistol before he beamed in relief at Will, his two friends, and Connor. "How did you know…"

"Lt. Colonel Connor entered my quarters to use the restroom the moment the general climbed into the entrance beneath the furnace. He instantly alerted me, and Newkirk and Carter were so nice to offer their assistance," Klink explained.

"Thanks, fellas," Robert addressed his friends, who simply shrugged.

"You're welcome, Colonel," Ryan replied.

"Any time, Gov'nor," Peter smiled. "As it seems, this time we caught a big fish."

"A very big fish," Carter added, with his typical childish chuckle. "A fat one, so to say."

"Carter…" Newkirk rebuked him and shot him a glare, before he returned his attention back to the men in the radio room.

Burkhalter only had eyes for Klink. "All the times I suspected you…" he murmured, feeling an odd mixture of disappointment and confirmation at once. "All the times you got yourself an alibi or your assumed involvements in sabotages went up in smoke…Every time you tricked me and the others. You are cleverer than I ever thought, Klink."

"Thank you, but I don't adorn myself with borrowed plums," the Oberst answered softly. "A few times I didn't have the tiniest clue of what was going on. Other times it was Robert who made certain that I was not to blame."

"And often is was both," Hogan cut in. "Remember the incident with Captain Herber, as you and Hochstetter wanted to prove that Colonel Klink was responsible for the sabotage of three railways? It wasn't him, but me. And he hadn't any idea of what was going on, nor who I was for real. Yet you two were so convinced that he was a traitor I had to come up with an alibi for him, meaning in this case to make Schultz stumble into the Kommandant's bedroom by tearing his door down. Klink had been deep asleep as the whole sabotage took place, yet you were ready to blame him."

"Herber said he had seen Klink driving away," Burkhalter answered, face betraying anger, but also curiosity.

"It was Carter who drove away; masked as Klink."

Burkhalter glanced at the youngest Hero, who had put his hands into the pockets of his jacket and nodded with an eager grin at him.

"Wilhelm was already in his quarters at that time," Hogan continued. "I, on the other hand, caught Herber in the middle of a burglary, as he tried to force open Klink's desk drawers – with the curtains wide open. Your so-called 'spy' was not only clumsy, but stupid. And he endangered a man I had come to respect and even like: Colonel Klink. With you and Hochstetter's conviction of Klink being a traitor, you forced me to act by shielding him and to make Herber look like the traitor."

Burkhalter scoffed. "And it's exactly what confuses me, Hogan. If Klink was no traitor then, why were you so determined to protect him? I'm certain that this wasn't the only case in which you did everything to save his skin. If only half of the events I'm thinking of now happened because you wanted to keep him out of trouble, then you must have had another reason for it."

"Colonel Klink makes this camp a livable place," Hogan answered strongly. "I realized within the first few months of my imprisonment that he wasn't a Nazi, but a fair and decent man who follows the old codex of honor."

"Codex of honor?" Burkhalter snapped. "What he did is called 'high treason' and…"

"Klink is no traitor," Hogan interrupted him sharply. "Hitler, Goebbels, your 'dear friend' Himmler, Goering, and all the others – they are the traitors. They betrayed Germany, the German people, and every free man, woman, and child within Europe in their nameless greed for power and might. Poisoning people's minds with their sick point of views. And those who still saw clear and recognized the insanity behind the ideas of a 'master race', 'pureness of art', 'pureness of blood' and so on, were brutally locked up and killed. Everyone who doesn't share your Führer's point of view is a danger to his plans and had or still has to die. Just look around; people are deathly afraid not only of the bombings, but mainly of the executive forces of their own country."

Burkhalter cocked his head. "Those who haven't done anything wrong don't have to fear the exec…"

"Bullshit!" Hogan snapped. "You're a highly intelligent man. You can't tell me that you didn't see the injustice and cruelness that happened within these borders. You can't tell me that you didn't know of your 'dear friend's' genocide he brought over your Jewish countrymen. People, who never did anything wrong than having non-German roots and a different religion. But your Führer needed a big scapegoat to get through with his sick plans, and so he blamed them of everything that went wrong while he overtook power over Germany and got a reason to arrest them. Do you know how many dead bodies of your former fellow countrymen have already been found alone in Auschwitz? More than a million! The Russians haven't even finished checking all the mass graves in said area!"

He saw Burkhalter paling and twisted the knife more. "And if this wouldn't have been enough, they were starved to death, robbed of gold teeth, wedding bands, and more after they were brutally murdered in the common showers, which didn't spray water, but gas! London got the newest information about the toxin. The death-battle with the gas lasts at least fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes and more of suffocating, hurting organs, and convulsions with no chance to escape. The walls in those showers are covered with scratches and handprints as the people tried to escape and clawed at those walls!"

Burkhalter looked in pure horror at him. "That's a lie," he whispered, unable to believe what he just heard.

"Is it?" Hogan challenged, face flushed with fury. "I can ask London to send some photos over; maybe you'll believe me then. Your 'dear friend' is one of the cruelest mass-murderers in history. And that's not all. People of conquered or 'befriended' countries were kidnapped to build your Führer's insane project; dying in the thousands because of inhumane working conditions, lack of food and medical care, the brutality of the SS-guards! And your 'dear friend's' crimes don't stop there. Our men found rations from the Wehrmacht and the Waffen-SS along the west side of the Rhine River. The confiscated chocolate was drugged – drugged with a substance that gives you high feelings until you even cannot feel fear anymore, and pushes up your physical strengths for a short time. He changed those men into killing machines, whose sane minds were switched off – and the real price will come to pay later, when the body is too used to go on anymore. Those men who ate more than a kilo of that stuff will not survive the next ten years!"

Burkhalter had closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the radio table, hands shaking. This. Couldn't. Be. True!

Hogan nodded with grim satisfaction as he saw the general's reaction. "And you have the nerve to call Klink a traitor, because he stood true to his given oath to protect his country and its people. He doesn't protect them against the enemies you made yourself by attacking their homes and by declaring war on the United States, he protects his people against the real danger whose main source sits in Berlin and stops at nothing!"

For a very long moment, Burkhalter said nothing, then he took a deep, shuddering breath and whispered, "I realized that Heinrich is up to more nasty things than ever thought of at the beginning of February, as he told me that he sent prisoners and POWs on marches towards the inner area of Germany. I said that most of them wouldn't make it so far, but he waved it off; meaning the less survived, the better for us. I…barely recognized him at that moment. Then came the air raid of Berlin. Klink, Schultz, Schmidt, and I barely survived, and all my doubts about our fights vanished. Then shortly before the air raid of Dresden took place, I heard about the reports from the Russians concerning Poland. I…I couldn't believe of what they spoke. I thought it was propaganda from the Allies. Then…" He gulped. "Then I heard Heinrich speaking of the big problems we all would get if the Allies would liberate more of the working-camps…I thought he referred to the lack of workers, but instead…"

"Instead he referred to the sinister secret that would be revealed later. That he and his goonies murdered thousands – millions – of people and enslaved even more," Hogan nodded, asking himself if the horror on Burkhalter's face was real or an act.

The general nodded. "Yes," he murmured. "A few days ago I heard him having a raging fit, because the 'damn Amis' stole gold we had gotten back from the thieves."

Hogan felt nausea. "Do you know to which gold he referred to?" As he caught the general's confused gaze, he said, "It was the gold of teeth, wedding bands, jewelries…all things which were stolen from killed people. A troop of our boys recovered it from an SS-base in the Saarland a few days ago. You have three guesses to whom all this gold belonged to originally."

Burkhalter rubbed his face with both hands – and Hogan realized that the fat Austrian was about to reach his limits. What if the man really hadn't known about this? What if he only got hints here and there, but preferred to close his eyes like so many others had done and still did? It made him not innocent, but he was also not to blame.

"Take a seat, General. I think you need it," he said, more calmly now, ignoring his friends' piercing glances.

Burkhalter looked at him, and Robert pointed to one of the chairs nearby. "Yes," was all the staff officer murmured, while he walked to the chair and lowered himself onto it. "What now?" he asked quietly after a few seconds. "I belonged to the Führer's staff. Are you going to shoot me?"

"That's not my style," Hogan deadpanned, not realizing for once that Burkhalter had used the past form as he spoke of his position. Exchanging a short glance with Klink, who still watched the general, the American officer closed the distance to the Austrian and looked down at him. Burkhalter radiated with resignation.

"There are a few options," Hogan began. "To send you to England would be one. On the other side, our boys will come sooner or later, and I can hand you over personally. This would be more comfortable for you, even if you would be our guest here in the tunnels – without the chance to roam around freely, mind you."

"Only under the premise that you all will still be here when the Americans come," Burkhalter said quietly.

"What do you mean?" the colonel demanded, alerted.

Albert snorted before he took a deep breath and glanced up at the younger man. "Do you know why I came to Stalag 13 last night, Hogan?" He looked at the Oberst. "Do you know the real reason, Klink? No? You two surprise me. After all, you always seemed to be a step ahead, but maybe all of you, including your technical 'ears', were too busy with nursing the exhausted and ill POWs forced to make one of those death-walks instead of listening to what happened in Berlin."

"You have new orders," Hogan assumed. "Concerning us here."

"Not only Stalag 13," Burkhalter replied, composing himself a little bit. "I assumed more and more that you are Papa Bear and wanted to offer you a deal: You smuggle me to Switzerland, and I tell you what is planned for you and the others – and what will take place before your US cavalry is here."

"If you think you can blackmail us…" LeBeau began furiously, but Hogan lifted a hand.

"Let the man talk," he said firmly. "There must be a strong reason if he wants to leave Germany – and I don't think it's only because he knows that the war is lost for him and the others."

Burkhalter nodded. "You are right, Hogan – like always. I already brought my family to safety – my wife, my nieces Lottie and Frieda, my widowed sister-in-law…"

"She is not widowed," Hogan interrupted him, seeing no harm in telling Burkhalter the truth now. Catching the general's baffled gaze, he said, "Captain Kurtz wasn't killed in the train explosion almost two years ago. I made sure that he survived and sent him to England. Since then, he's learning how it is to be on the other side of the lined-up men and hopefully learned his lesson that every POW is a human being."

Burkhalter stared at him – half relieved, half irritated. "Do you have the tiniest idea how much my sister-in-law mourned for him – or how much she pestered Berta and therefore me to have him removed from the Russian Front only to get the message that he was killed in a sabotage here in Germany?!"

Hogan shrugged. "Sorry for your personal discomfort, General, but in this case, I had no other choice. The guy was too close on my trail, and he tyrannized my men. I made myself a promise: Should I ever see him again, I'll punch him straight on the nose for all he did to my men!"

A frown appeared on Burkhalter's face, then he sighed. "Don't get me wrong here, Hogan, but I understand what you mean. Sometimes relatives-in-law can kill your last nerves. And that you have a streak to avenge those who are dear to you came clear over a month ago as you vowed to kill Hochstetter should Klink not survive his injury." He glanced at the Oberst. "Your American friend is very fond of you."

"I know. I'm fond of him, too," the Kommandant replied, before he continued sternly. "Back to the topic. You brought your family to safety?"

"Yes, including my mother, my nieces, my younger sister, Gertrude…"

"Hallelujah!" Klink commented wryly, but was ignored.

"…and my wife Berta."

"Then he has to be desperate if he wants to be reunited with those two hags," LeBeau murmured beneath his breath, yet he had been heard.

"You are right, too, Corporal LeBeau," the general said quietly. "I am desperate, but not only because my life is at stake. This was the reason I first wanted to strike a bargain with your superior, but now…a lot has changed." He swallowed and took a deep breath, while he turned his attention back to the American colonel. "I got an order concerning the Stalags in the south, the east, and the west – an order I cannot follow, because even I have some decency left in me."

"What orders?" Hogan asked quietly, fearing the worst.

"And the bargain?" Burkhalter asked. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, then the general shook his head. "It doesn't matter anymore. Not after all I heard within the last few minutes. Even if I didn't know about all of this – I swear! – I'm partly guilty, too, because I didn't follow the many hints I got concerning…the whole crime our regime brought over all those people."

"What are your orders?" the colonel repeated.

Burkhalter moistened his lips. "In four or five days, trucks of the SS will arrive at this camp to take all opponent officers away to a station, where they have to board a train and will be brought to Berlin. They shall serve as living shields for Hitler. The others will be forced to walk into the middle of Germany, abused as pawns. Those who are too weak will be locked in their barracks and it is up to me if those barracks will be burned down or if the men will be simply left without nourishment. And the same will go for all Stalags and Oflags the Allies are about to liberate."

Hogan had grown pale like a tablecloth, while Klink whispered in sheer horror, "This would mean certain death for Connor's men and a few of Hogan's. And the others…" He gulped before he breathed, "You can't do that, Herr General. That's murder!"

Burkhalter nodded slowly. "Exactly, Klink. I can't do that. And I, foolishly, said that to Heinrich, hoping to make him see clearly again. He became angry, yet I didn't give in. I told him that he was about to break dozens of rules and laws – that he was about to do an inhumane crime that would gain him a ticket to Hell. He answered that he already got thousands of those tickets, but they were worth it because he would gladly pay the price if Earth would be stronger and 'cleaner' afterwards. I began to realize what he meant with those words." He shuddered and looked back at Hogan. "I argued with him, I even begged him to spare all those men who hadn't a part in the war for months and years now, but he got even more furious. I thought our friendship was real – maybe the only true friendship I ever had…but I was wrong. Men in my position rarely have real friends – and certainly not in a regime like this one."

Hogan had wrapped his arms around himself – a sign of defense and self-protection. "He fired you," he stated, and a bitter smile played around Burkhalter's obese lips.

"Yes, I fell from grace. I had two hours to pack my belongings and report to the Führerbunker." He snorted. "I packed a few documents from my office and left Berlin."

"And your first way led you to Stalag 13?" Klink asked, still horrified what had been ordered, yet also a little bit shocked what happened to Burkhalter, who only tried to protect the POWs and stood true to written law.

Another bitter expression appeared on the general's round face. "I knew what to expect if I would have followed the order to come to the Führerbunker. With a little bit of luck, I only would have been ordered to commit suicide. The other option would have been a firing squad – ordered by my 'dear friend'." He glanced up at Hogan. "There was only one hope left for me. One very little, tiny hope, but a drowning man grips for every straw he can get. I hoped that you are indeed the man Hochstetter and many others suspected you to be. I hoped that you were, indeed, Papa Bear. As it turned out, my hope was fulfilled – yet everything changed."

"You wanted to trade your knowledge against a free way to Switzerland," the colonel acknowledged. "You even wanted to make the bargain about it a minute ago, yet you told me everything without my assurance to smuggle you to a neutral country. Why?"

A bitter snort escaped Albert. "Hogan, I just learned that a man I called a 'friend' for over ten years is a brutal mass-murderer who killed millions of people and poisoned his own men to abuse them for battles they couldn't win. I don't know why I trust you enough that you haven't lied just now and told me the plain truth, but I believe you. You are not a man who would state something like that only to gain an advantage or play me. You are tricky and clever, yes, but also a man of honor – even if it sounds odd, given the fact who and what you are."

"Thanks – I think," Hogan grumbled.

Albert sighed again, before he continued quietly. "And another reason why I, for once, won't run is because of what you just told me. There have been many hints that all these felonies really took place. Knowing it for sure, or not, I became an accessory in those crimes by simply looking away or denying them. We all within the leading staff are to blame, responsible or not. There is no way in hell that you would smuggle me away given all the deeds I did and things I didn't do." He took a deep breath. "But at least I can fulfill my duty concerning the POW camps: To follow the rules and the Geneva Conventions by warning you."

"Yeah, you always stuck to those Conventions. It was plain to see whenever you stocked dangerous stuff within the camp, tested weapons, and hid other things the Allies shouldn't get," Newkirk grumbled.

"Another thing I have to pay for certainly," Burkhalter nodded in defeat. "But at least I always tried to keep you out of harm's way – and, to stick to the truth, it was not me who endangered you whenever those weapons and devices went haywire. It was never planned from my side to let rockets or test planes go on a cruise." He looked at Hogan, who rolled his eyes.

"What now, Colonel?" Carter rose to speak. "If the general spoke the truth, we're all on our way to Middle Germany or Berlin within a few days."

"Yeah, and what about him?" LeBeau asked, nodding his head towards Burkhalter.

"I would love to see him sent to jail for the next fifty years, but I think a bullet would be enough for him," Newkirk affirmed.

"Stop it," Hogan said, before his men could be carried away. "Do you realize that he just saved all of our lives?"

Grumbles were the answer, while Hogan exchanged a look with Klink, who looked lost at what to do just like him.

Groaning, Hogan pinched his nose. He had decisions to make, which would be crucial for all of their survivals – that of him, the other officers, the POWs, and Burkhalter. He had to take action quickly. Before the SS appeared to evacuate the camp, which would mean the death of many prisoners. And Klink's fate was also at stake.

Biting his lips, Hogan lowered his head; his clever mind was already running in circles to find a solution.

TBC…

Well, now is dear colonel sits between two chairs, like we say in Germany. He certainly assumed a lot as Burkhalter found the tunnels, but never this outcome. Well, he should be used to surprises by now, shouldn't he? (LOL).

In the next chapter, Hogan has to pull all strings possible – not only for Burkhalter, but especially for his own men and the whole camp; after all, should Stalag 13 be evacuated, it would mean death for many of them. In other words, our Heroes are in desperate need for rescue, and therefore it's time for the cavalry…

More I don't want to reveal at the moment.

I hope, you liked the new chapter, and – like always – I'd love to get some comments/reviews.

Have a hopefully nice weekend,

Love

Yours Starflight