Hi, my dear readers,
Thanks once again for the feedback. I know, we're nearing the end, yet a few things have still to be done – for example, saving Schmidt. 'til now Hogan and his friends don't know about their young friend's upcoming fate and they all concentrate on the hopefully declared surrender of Hammelburg, but there is still trouble in the bush.
Therefore no more words, here we go.
Have fun
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 104 – Papa Bear's last mission, part 1
Hogan, Klink, Burkhalter, and a few other officers had returned to Stalag 13 after Schmidt had been rowed over to Hammelburg. The two GIs had returned without being harmed. Robert had a bad feeling, and Will told him quietly that he also had a certain stinging in his stomach. If there would have been any other man than Hartmann in town, there wouldn't be any doubt that reason would win the dangerous game. But the SS-major was as fanatic like Hochstetter was – only more cold blooded. Yet none of them could do anything except wait for news; the hardest part for men of action. Men like Robert Hogan.
His friends were worried for the young German, too. They had come to regard him as an ally and even a friend, but no one was more afraid for him than Hilda.
"You…you let him go into that danger?" She all but accused Hogan, who thew up his hands.
"Hilda, what should I do? He insisted of being sent, and – let's face it – he's the best candidate for the job. He's well respected in town and…"
"And this bastard Hartmann is there," Klink's former secretary cut in. "Dammit, Robbie, you know how this man ticks. He is one of those guys who develop grudges the moment they don't get their will. And Horst gave him trouble concerning Connor and his men. Hartmann will arrest Horst given the tiniest reason."
"I know, Sweetie," Robert groaned. "But you have to understand that he's first and foremost a police officer. He takes his responsibility very seriously – just like you did within the last two years." He gave her a pointed look that made her sigh in return.
"I'm worried for him," she whispered.
Hogan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I know, Hilda. I'm worried, too."
*** HH *** HH ***
North of Stalag 13, at one of the last remaining bridges over the Saale River at the Lagerberg, GIs were watching the road and their surroundings, while a few hundred meters behind them the third group of the division waited for new orders. Sure, this area was conquered despite for Hammelburg, but they remained wary. After all, they were deep in the enemy's territory.
Suddenly, the droning of an engine was heard from afar – obviously from a truck. Staff Sergeant Connelly gave his men a signal to seek for cover. They didn't know who was coming. And if it were Germans, how many of them were driving down the road. Maybe it were renegades, but it also could be a few fighting soldiers on a mission.
Rifles ready, the GIs hid in the bushes and watched how a black colored truck was jolting along the street. They saw one driver in the cursed black uniform, but that meant nothing. It was the loading bed, where more SS-men could possibly be riding, that mattered.
The staff sergeant made a signal as the truck was about to reach the bridge, and the US soldiers jumped out of their hideout as one; aiming at the driver and the loading bed that appeared to be empty.
"Hands up!" Connelly shouted at the winded down window of the truck, while two of his comrades pointed flashlights at the driver. "Hande hooch." He repeated in broken German.
What happened then took every American by surprise. The German, who seemed to be in his fifties, looked startled at them before he sighed in utter relief and even smiled.
"Na, Gott sei Dank! Endlich!" He only received confused faces in return and repeated in English. "Thank the Lord. Finally!"
The staff sergeant nodded at two of the guards to cover his back and stepped towards the driver cabin. "Get out," he ordered. "No tricks!"
The German lifted both hands to show them that he held no gun, and while one GI pulled open the door, he climbed down. Instantly, two other soldiers were there, pulled him roughly around, and pressed him against the vehicle; checking him for any weapon. Of course he had a pistol, but he didn't offer any resistance as they took it. He reacted quite the opposite, as he said, "I also have a knife down in my right boot, boy. Be careful; it's sharp." Then he looked over his shoulder at the staff sergeant. "Sir, I'm on my way to Stalag 13. I have to speak with Colonel Hogan."
The non-com officer stared at him. "Who?" He asked, perplexed.
"Colonel Robert Hogan. The former Senior POW Officer of the camp," the German explained, while his knife was taken away, too. He took a deep breath. "May I turn around? My neck isn't this movable as it used to be when I was younger." He was pulled around again and held by two GIs, while he continued. "I'm Sergeant Fuhrmann. Colonel Hogan knows me – and especially my superior, who was sent by your General Butler to Hammelburg to negotiate. Oberleutnant Schmidt."
"What do you want from the colonel?" Connelly asked sharply, while one of the guards called out to him.
"Sir, the cargo bed is empty. No one is here except for that Kraut."
"'Kraut', really. I don't even like cabbage," Fuhrmann sighed, rolling his eyes. Then he turned serious again. "Sir, like I said; I was on my way to Stalag 13 to speak with Colonel Hogan. It's urgent. Oberleutnant Schmidt was arrested for high treason and…"
"Why should I care for another Kraut?" Connelly sneered.
"Because he was chosen by your general to be a negotiator. I think that should be of interest for you," Fuhrmann replied strongly. He watched the younger man in front of him, who looked him up and down, full of distrust.
"Forsyth!" Connelly called over his shoulder, his gaze never steering from Fuhrmann. "Call the camp and ask if a Colonel Hogan is there and knows a Sergeant Fuhrmann from the SS."
"Aye, sir," came the affirmation.
Connelly glared at Fuhrmann. "I hope for you that you told the truth," he said, before he nodded at the guards to keep the German in check and walked towards his Jeep.
*** HH ***
Hogan had had a small, very late dinner with Klink in the Kommandantur, as a knock came on the door frame.
"Colonel Hogan?" One of the GIs asked, and stepped in while saluting. "Sir, I have one of our outer guards on the radio. Do you know an SS-Sergeant Fuhrmann?"
Robert's eyes widened. "Yes, I do," he replied, rising from his chair like Wilhelm did. "What about him?"
"He is a few miles away from here at one of our risen outposts along the hill in the south of Hammelburg. He said he was on his way to the camp to speak with you."
The bad feeling Hogan had sensed the whole time was increasing. "Send him over. Quickly." He threw his napkin on the table and followed the GI outside, Will on his heels.
"KIIIINCH!" Hogan shouted over the compound, and his second in command came running as he heard the tense undertone in his friend's voice. The Heroes had remained in Stalag 13 as the short, but fierce battle had happened, and were glad as Hogan and the others had returned unhurt. Yet they all knew that the whole mess wasn't over. And LeBeau had even foreseen that it would become nastier during the evening. The colonel's shout for Kinch seemed to prove it.
"Yes, Colonel?" James asked, even before he reached Hogan.
"Radio Butler. Get him to come over to the camp. We're about to get news from Hammelburg."
Kinch jogged towards Barracks 2 without question, glad that he had kept the radio in the tunnels in functioning. Burkhalter was nearing the two colonels, while Connor came from the former motor pool.
"Colonel, what happened?" Connor asked.
"Schmidt's confidant, Fuhrmann, was intercepted by our boys as he was on his way to the camp to speak with me. I think something's gone wrong," Robert answered quietly.
Burkhalter, who had heard the last part, took a deep breath. "You think our young friend got into trouble?"
Hogan nodded. "Yes – and I think it has to do with Hartmann."
They had to wait almost twenty minutes until headlights cut through the darkness, and the familiar black SS-truck neared the main entrance, accompanied by two jeeps. Behind them another car was fighting its way over the damaged street, and Robert recognized Butler in the passenger seat.
The black truck held beside the main gate inside of the camp, and Fuhrmann left the vehicle; two GIs accompanying him.
Hogan began to run over to the newcomers, and as he saw the German's pale face and fierce expression in his eyes, he knew that he had been right. Something bad had taken place. "Fuhrmann, what happened?" He asked, before even reaching the SS-sergeant. Butler's jeep stopped nearby, and the general jumped over the low door even before the car came to full halt.
Fuhrmann felt a wave of relief as he saw the familiar face of the former Senior POW Officer. "Colonel Hogan," he greeted quickly before continuing. "Schmidt was arrested for high treason."
"WHAT?" Robert didn't trust his ears, even if he had somehow known that this would happen.
"Are they crazy?" Klink snapped angrily.
Butler reached them and looked at the older German. "What's the matter? Who is this?"
Fuhrmann glanced at the US officer, and Hogan gave the short version of an introduction. "Alex, this is Sergeant Fuhrmann from the SS in Hammelburg. Schmidt's confidant. You can trust him. Sergeant, this is General Butler. My commanding officer."
The older German gave the general a quick salute before he addressed Hogan again. "I was at the entrance of HQ as Schmidt returned and told Hartmann about the given ultimatum. And you know Hartmann; he was anything but happy about it and accused Schmidt of having switched sides."
"Which is true, by the way," Will murmured.
"I know, but Hartmann has no proof – except for one…or so he thinks." Fuhrmann's glance wandered to Burkhalter. "As far as I heard, you tried to order the fleeing Wehrmacht and SS-members in Hammelburg to stop fighting almost three hours ago." As Albert nodded, Fuhrmann added, "Hartmann accused Schmidt of hiding you here in the camp – because you saved his life. And, above all, he provoked Schmidt with stupid cites of Hitler's demands that a good German rather dies than surrenders. Schmidt wants the town and its people to be safe, and Hartmann wants to fight. The two quarreled and resulted with Hartmann taking Schmidt into custody." He pressed his lips into a thin line and continued. "The major refuses to inform the town council or the burgomaster about the given ultimatum."
Hogan had stemmed his hands on his hips and cursed, while Butler shook his head with frustration.
"That damn fool," Burkhalter whispered. "I already knew that he is a fanatic follower of Himmler and Hitler, but that he is such an idiot…" He swore beneath his breath.
Connor had listened, too, and murmured, "What now? Schmidt saved a few of my men's lives. I don't want to let him down."
Robert wrapped his arms around himself and lowered his head to think.
"Sergeant Fuhrmann, what happened?" The soft female voice behind the little group made Hogan close his eyes. Hilda would snap, no doubt.
"Is something wrong?" Newkirk asked. Looking over his shoulder, Hogan saw his friends had accompanied a pale Hilda and were glancing askingly at him.
The older man looked full of sympathy at the woman who had won his superior's heart. "Schmidt was arrested," he said quietly, regret plain to hear in his voice.
"No," Hilda gasped, pressing a delicate hand in front of her mouth. Her heartbeat began to rise. "NO, please no!"
"Let me guess: Hartmann," Kinch said, with a growl in his voice.
"Damn bosche!" LeBeau cursed.
"I should have given him something to warm up when he was here complaining about the cold motor pool," Carter said angrily. "A few sticks of dynamite, for example."
Hilda felt an icy hand squeezing her heart, while her eyes filled with tears before she whirled around to Hogan. "Robbie, do something!" She all but demanded.
"I don't think that there's anything we can do," Butler said, pity in his eyes. "The town is in the hands of the SS, the bridges are destroyed except for one, and the town council doesn't even know of the ultimatum. I see no way to help the young man."
"It's impossible," Hogan nodded slowly. "The SS-HQ is secure like a high security prison. No one can enter it without being seen or 'invited' in."
"No chance?" Connor asked uncomfortably.
"Absolutely not. To creep into town under the given circumstances, intrude Gestapo HQ, get Schmidt out of the cellars and to safety, AND give the town council the ultimatum without being caught is impossible." Robert pursed his lips and frowned before he nodded again – this time at himself. "We do it thusly." He turned around to his friends. "LeBeau, I need…"
"I beg your pardon?" Butler cut in, flabbergasted. "Didn't you just say that a rescue mission is impossible?"
Robert glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous grin spreading over his face, while Klink began to chuckle.
"Meet the most chaotic boy in a man's body, General." The Oberst smirked.
"General, with due all respect, but if the Gov'nor would have quitted at any task with a few problems London didn't even consider when they give us the missions, then we wouldn't be whom we are now." Newkirk smiled.
"The Unsung Heroes." Kinch, Baker, and Carter cheered in chorus.
Butler exchanged a glance with Connor, then with Norton before he addressed Klink, flipping a thumb at Hogan. "And once again; how did you put up with him at all?"
"I swear, my balding head showed more hair as I took over charge of this camp," Wilhelm answered, voice warm. "But I don't want to miss any hour of it." Then he sighed, while worry mirrored his expression. "Rob, you know that a rescue mission is crazy?"
Hogan shrugged before he answered. "Schmidt's my friend – and I never let my friends down, you know. Connor and I are on the same page here." Then he straightened his frame. "Back to the task. Gentlemen, one last mission for the Unsung Heroes. One last mission for Papa Bear: saving a friend and our dear lady's sweetheart." He winked at a completely stirred up Hilda, who looked with new rising hope, but also pleadingly at him. "And saving the future foster-father of an incredibly sweet imp." He added, referring to Little Manfred, who had caught the Heroes' hearts within the last few days.
Hogan skipped any churlish behavior and became the stern master-spy he was. "LeBeau, you're the best costume designer for us. Newkirk, Carter, and I need SS-uniforms. Totenkopf-SS, of course. I don't think Hartmann would accept orders from another SS-unit. Make me something higher ranking than him."
"SS-Brigade-Führer," Fuhrmann offered. "It's something close to a brigadier general of your army."
Hogan gave him a smile. "Thanks. LeBeau, you heard the man. Newkirk will be my adjutant, and Carter is a lower ranking non-com."
"SS-Scharführer. It's one of the lower ranks, but with some responsibility," Fuhrmann suggested.
"Right, then make Carter one of them, Louis," Robert ordered.
"Oui, mon colonel. What about your appearance?"
Hogan sighed. "Hartmann knows me. Change my hair style and color – and give me a beard, maybe."
"Colonel," Fuhrmann cut in. "Hartmann knows a lot of higher ranking SS-officers of the Waffen and the Totenkopf-SS, but not so much the police. Maybe you should chose the identity of a man whose job is more that of a policeman and comes from an area Hartmann has no connection to. He should be of your age."
"You know one?" Hogan asked.
"The police leader of Würzburg, Hermann Schubert. He's about your age and rose in this position only a month ago after his predecessor was given another task. I met Schubert in Hannover before I was transferred to Hammelburg at the end of last December. He's about your size and age." Fuhrmann's face was firm, determination burned in his eyes.
Butler cocked his head. "Why do you help us – and Lieutenant Schmidt?"
Before Hogan could jump in to answer, the SS-sergeant's voice ran out clearly. "Because I regard Horst Schmidt not only as a friend, but I see the son in him I lost during an air-raid of the Allies two years ago. Schmidt is older than my Thomas was, but he has the same idealistic points of views: all men and women are of one race. We all are simply that: humans. Thomas was studying medicine, but also had great ambitions for religion. His regards would have brought him trouble, especially within the last few years. I protected him as good as I could. Yet he was killed in the Hannover University as it was bombed."
"And you hold no grudges against us?" Norton asked slowly.
"First I did," Fuhrmann admitted. "And then I began to recognize the real guilty ones – those who started this war and tolerate no other opinion than their own: Hitler and his followers. As I was transferred to Hammelburg, my first superior was Major Hochstetter – a super example for the regime's insanity. And then young Schmidt came along." His gaze was now trained on Klink. "He doesn't care for heritage or nationality; he does what's right. Then, one by one, I watched his last resolves melting away and how he became the colonel's ally." He looked at Hogan. "He confessed only two days ago that he is in the same boat with you – and I knew that he was doing the right thing again." He glanced back at Butler. "So many innocent lives were taken on both sides, because of a few men's madness. And now the same fate is about to catch Schmidt. I won't accept this – never! At least here I maybe can prevent losing someone else I hold high regards to. Just like I had for my son."
"What if this is a trap?" Norton asked, glaring at Fuhrmann. "What if this is all a big lie to lure Colonel Hogan into…"
"For what reason, young man?" Fuhrmann interrupted him. "Hammelburg is more or less surrounded. Your division could eliminate the town within a few hours. So why lure Colonel Hogan into a trap? We would have nothing to gain of it, but only lose all hope to stay alive."
"How did you get away from Hammelburg?" Butler asked carefully.
"I listened to Schmidt and Hartmann's conversation until the Oberleutnant was led into HQ, went to the driving pool, got a truck, and drove away. I knew from the talks of the refugees that at least one bridge was still intact over the Saale River and drove south to find the only passable way to Stalag 13." He looked back at Hogan. "I knew the only one who could help now is you."
"Thanks for your trust," Robert murmured, before he took a deep breath and straightened his shape. "LeBeau, get to work. I want us to be ready within the next hour. And make it black SS-uniforms."
"Oui," Louis nodded, and jogged away.
"Wilson?" Hogan shouted over the compound, and the medic came running.
"Yes, Colonel?"
"I need bloody bandages – real bloody bandages. Given the fact that dozens of our boys are injured, it won't be a problem to get some blood smeared material."
"What for?" Newkirk asked.
"Peter, I know you're not going to like this, but if we crossed the whole battle area, we can't arrive in Hammelburg as neat as a pin. We have to show a few injuries at last."
The Englishman rolled his eyes. "You're right, I don't like this."
"Regard it as an added trouble to our last mission," Hogan offered, with a smile. He clapped his friend on the shoulder before he gestured Olsen to come closer.
"Yes, Colonel?"
"I need ashes. Just fill a few bowls with it, and bring it over to Barracks 2," Robert ordered.
"Yes, sir," the man answered, and waved at a few comrades to accompany him.
"What's your plan?" Butler asked, concerned.
"I wanted to ask the same question," Klink said, unusually hard; his blue eyes wide with worry. "What's going on in this crazy head of yours?"
Hogan grinned at them. "SS-Brigarde-Führer Hermann Schubert reaches Hammelburg after a lot of trouble – together with two of his most loyal men. And he will take over command, of course."
Butler gaped at him. "You are crazy. Colonel Klink is right."
"Believe me, General; most plans of the colonel's are crazy, but they work." Kinch sighed, ignoring his superior and friend's half pout, half glare.
"And what shall we do?" Alex asked, still perplexed.
Hogan grinned. "Oh, I have a perfect job for you – sir. I'm going to need a reason why Oberleutnant Schmidt has to be removed from HQ and is brought into the inner part of the town for interrogation. That reason will be delivered by you."
*** HH ***
"Good God, I really loathe seeing you in this cursed uniform!" Butler said an hour later with clear distaste, but also some amusement at his protegee, who just left Barracks 2. He wore SS-black, a blonde toupee, and a not so well trimmed moustache. He, Newkirk – red haired – and Carter, who hadn't gotten any real make-up, also sported different bloodied bandages. Carter with one around his head and his black cap not sitting well on it, Newkirk had bloody mull around his upper left arm, and Hogan's left temple was decorated with bruises.
"Beautiful," Connor couldn't help but taunt.
Schultz and Klink shook their heads, while Burkhalter sourly pursed his lips. "Somehow I think I already saw you in these clothes," he grumbled, and Hogan gave him a bright grin.
"Yep," he chuckled. Then he turned towards LeBeau, Baker, and Kinch. "Gentlemen, don't you think these uniforms are only good for trash cans?"
As the three nodded with curious faces, Robert added. "Well, then make them look as if we just got them out of said cans."
"Pardon, colonel?" Louis was clearly lost now.
"Had you ever wished to tear those closes apart, LeBeau? Be my guest – but leave some intact. We still have to wear them, and I DON'T want to show the damn Nazis my boxers!"
It dawned on the others as to what Hogan meant, and with almost childish joy, Louis, James, and Richard began to tear at the uniforms their friends wore. Within a minute, Hogan, Carter, and Newkirk looked anything but neatly clothed. Material was ripped, buttons were missing, ensigns were half torn off.
"Great work, boys," Hogan grinned, while Butler only shook his head and chuckled.
"If you ever would appear in my office like that, Hogan, I would throw you out the window," he said teasingly.
"Ah, the best has still to come," Robert smirked, and rose his voice. "OLSEN?"
"Already here, Colonel," the man answered, and pushed through the crowd that had built around the Unsung Heroes, Butler, and the four Germans. He carried a bowl and dipped a hand into it. "Some more decoration wanted?" He asked humorously.
"Yes, please," Robert nodded, and closed his eyes, while he held his breath. The others did the same. Olsen threw ashes at him, then grey smoke seemed to envelope the three Heroes, while cheers, whistles, and laughs surged up around them.
"Perfect!" LeBeau finally beamed. "If you want to quit your job in the Army, mon colonel, you also can ponder a career as a chimney sweep. The outfit already fits."
Hogan blinked the ashes from his lashes and carefully rubbed his eyes before he looked down at himself. "Sweet Lord," he gasped. The half torn uniform, the dirty boots, the black material mostly grey now, and smelling like ash. "This is a costume for the next Halloween party," he groaned, earning him more laughter.
Butler stemmed his hands into the waist. "If I didn't know it better, I would say we caught three SS-dudes in the middle of a battle."
Fuhrmann felt a smile tugging at his mouth. "No wonder you were never caught, Colonel. Your masquerade is perfect."
"Thanks," Hogan grinned.
"Robbie?" Hilda managed to reach him and the others, offering them papers. "Here are your ID documents and those of Newkirk and Carter."
"Carry them in the right chest pocket inside," Fuhrmann advised, and the three Heroes did like told.
Hogan turned to the blonde secretary. "Well done, Hilda," he said.
"Thanks. Newkirk taught me." She winked at the Englishman, yet she couldn't fool anyone. She was sick with worry for Schmidt.
Hogan rubbed his face with both hands, smearing the ashes even more "Ready, fellas?" He asked.
"Yes, Colonel."
"Ready as always, Gov'nor."
"Rob, one moment." Klink pulled his secret lover along with him and led him away from the others. "Rob, this mission is dangerous as hell. If one of the guys in Hammelburg knows Schubert, you're done for." The dark blue eyes looked on with fear at the American, who gently cupped the older man's shoulders.
"Will, I know, but I can't let Schmidt down. He's our friend, and Hilda loves him dearly. He's needed not only with her and Little Manfred, but also in town when this whole mess is over. He's the man the Military Government can accept as an intermediary, and the citizens accept him as the man who brings order into town. He counts on us – on me. He trusted me all these last few weeks. Every time he warned me or even let me slip away on a mission. I owe him."
Klink sighed, his stomach churning with anxiety for this gorgeous, crazy boy-man he loved with everything he had. "I know, Rob, but please remember that you have my heart – and my soul. If something happens to you, I'm going to lose it."
Hogan wasn't aware of the deep warmth that began to shine in his eyes. "I know, Will. And should something happen to me, I want you to go on – no matter what. Your family needs you, and I'm sure you can do so much for your country when this war is over. Stick to Butler, he'll help you to find a new way."
Will thought a knife was boring into his heart. "Don't talk like that, Rob. Just come back to me – alive and well. Please!"
A soft smile played around Robert's lips. "I can't promise you that. But I swear that I will do anything in my power to return to you – always." He wanted to kiss Wilhelm, to give him hope and strength, but it was impossible. They were out in the open in the compound, watched by thousands of eyes. So he simply squeezed his lover's shoulders. "I love you," he said gently. "Whatever will happen, just remember that I love you!" He gave Will another encouraging smile.
"I love you, too," Will whispered hoarsely. "You gave for the first time my life a real sense – and the last weeks were the happiest of my life, despite all the trouble and the dread we went through. I want a future with you, so be careful over there in Hammelburg. Promised?"
"I promise," Hogan answered lovingly, smiled again and turned away.
"Robbie!" Hilda all but ran over to him, ignoring her mother's shout from Klink's quarters.
Hogan waited for her. "Yes?"
She gripped his right under arm with both hands. "Please bring him back to me."
Hogan felt more than moved as he saw the begging expression in her damp eyes. She held the same fear for Horst Schmidt, like Will had for him, Robert. "I'll do my very best, Hilda. If there's a chance to save our young friend, I'll get him out of the hot water he's in." He patted her hands and gently removed them. "Guys, we have a mission to fulfill," he called, and Newkirk, Carter, and Fuhrmann, who all carried German rifles, headed towards the SS-truck. Newkirk handed a Walther-PKK to Hogan.
"Robert!" Butler shouted, and as he got the younger man's attention, he added, "Be careful, do you hear me? If you get killed, I'll drag your ass to the river and dig you under so deep until the cold water wakes you up again."
Rob began to grin. "And then I'll haunt you as a ghost for the rest of your life," he joked, before he gave a sloppy salute and followed his two friends and Fuhrmann to the truck.
Klink had crossed his arms in front of his chest, his fear for Hogan clear to see on his face.
"He'll make it," Schultz said softly, beside him. "All his missions were successful, you know. He won't fail this time."
"I hope you're right," Will whispered. "I pray that he returns in one piece." He watched his beloved climbing into the passenger seat of the truck, Fuhrmann slipping beneath the wheel. 'Be safe, Rob,' he thought, and wasn't aware that his long fingers clawed his own coat sleeves. 'Be safe!'
*** HH *** HH ***
Horst Schmidt cowered in the dark, icy cell beneath Gestapo Headquarters – in the cellars of the place he commanded until this midday. The bruises he had gotten hurt like hell, and the short break Hartmann had granted him a few minutes ago wouldn't return his strength, yet he stuck true to the story he had made up. He and Kröger had found a way to the camp, had spoken with Klink – and then the Americans appeared. There hadn't been any chance for him and Kröger to leave Stalag 13 before it was liberated. He and Kröger had been handled firmly, but not cruelly, stayed in the cooler together with the other German officers and as the Amis were ready to conquer Hammelburg, General Burkhalter had been forced to accompany them. He himself, Schmidt, and the others had stayed in the camp but were allowed to walk around under strict watch. They had heard the battles during the next few hours until he had been transferred to the river banks, where he got the order from the US-general to bring the given ultimatum to Hammelburg. End of story.
Of course Hartmann didn't believe him fully, yet he had no other proof. Still, he thought that Schmidt had hidden Burkhalter in Stalag 13. And above all, the major demanded detailed information about the US-division that was 'harboring' at Hammelburg's doorstep.
Schmidt knew what Hartmann really planned – to start a counter attack. With four of five dozen men. It was insane at best, and even if his men didn't move a finger to come to his aid, Schmidt didn't want to see them dying in the blaze of gunfire any attack would elicited. Therefore, he didn't give Hartmann any intel. He wouldn't allow that bastard to send men to certain death.
Schmidt pulled his knees towards him and wrapped his arms around them. His back, his jaw, his temple, his upper arms – everything hurt, but he was too proud and stubborn to show anything of it on the outside. His thoughts wandered to Hilda and Little Manfred. He knew that Hogan would keep them safe, including Hilda's parents, yet his heart ached at the thought that maybe his future together with Hilda and the baby would end here and now. He shuddered inwardly when he imagined Hilda's reaction should she learn of his fate.
Of course she would learn about it – at latest after Hammelburg was conquered. He hoped that Hartmann didn't plan on killing him soon, yet he knew the way the SS handled certain situations like this. They rather murder a prisoner than allow him to be freed. He had heard often enough that they shot their captives even when help was coming through the door, and Horst had the unpleasant feeling that Hartmann would do the same.
This could happen or the building collapsed as soon as the Americans attacked – after the ultimatum was allowed to lapse. So or so, Horst knew that his chances of survival were low at best.
Then he heard the nearing hard steps. Dread awoke in him again. He knew that the short period of grace was over. Looking up, he saw Hartmann and four of the major's men entering the small cell he was locked in.
"Up," Hartmann ordered sharply, and Schmidt obeyed, but he took his time, challengingly lifting his jaw.
"Your manners leave a lot to desire," he deadpanned.
"Manners are not wasted on traitors." The major snarled, and Horst lifted both brows.
"Then you should start to manhandle yourself – after all, you're betraying the citizens with every minute you don't tell the town council about the ultimatum. I in person wouldn't be sad to see you die in the fire the Americans will bring over Hammelburg, but I care for the civilians here – something you completely lack of."
Hartmann stepped nearer, eyes hard like granite, expression frozen. "That those hags and tottery old men urged our glorious but wounded soldiers to leave town is a shame. Usually I would deliver them to their fate – becoming captives of the cursed Amis. Yet, regretfully, the Führer ordered that every town has to be held as long as possible or has to be destroyed before the enemy can conquer it. And believe me, before I allow those cowboys to get Hammelburg, I'd rather burn it down myself."
Schmidt closed the short distance to Hartmann, eyes furious, face a grim mask. "And you dare to call me a traitor, you heartless bastard! You're really a coward; only strong when you can harass people who can't fight back – POWs, women, children. You should rot in hell!" He technically spat the last sentence, before he turned around and showed the other man his back.
"You will regret this," Hartmann whispered, his face flushed with fury.
"Hardly likely," Horst growled over his shoulder. "I don't fear to tell someone the truth straight into their face, regardless how ugly it is."
He saw the fist coming and ducked in the very last moment. Yet Hartmann managed to hit him against the temple – hard enough to send him flying against the wall. The impact forced the air out of his lungs, and for a moment he saw stars, then he was roughly gripped, hauled from the wall, and banged against it again. Instinctively, Schmidt reacted. His right leg shot forwards and hit the other man where it hurt the most. Hartmann squeaked, and his eyes were about to bulge out of his head, while he doubled over.
Instantly, his men attacked Schmidt, who struggled with everything he had. He knew that he had forfeited his life, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. Yet within half a minute, he was overpowered. Four men against one left no chance for him.
Hartmann carefully straightened his shape again, his middle hurt like hell. With teary eyes and red face, he stared at Schmidt, who was secured in a murderous hold of the guards, smiling with satisfaction. Clearing his throat a few times, Hartmann finally was able to speak again. "A bullet is too good for you. Heseler, get a rope," he ordered one of his men, while he looked up at the ceiling where hooks were mounted to 'secure' prisoners. Then his gaze wandered back to Schmidt, who clung to his gratified grin to hide the mortal fear that was rising in him. "I'll be your personal hangman."
TBC…
Yeah, I know, such a mean cliffhanger… Our friend Schmidt is really in hot water, and the cavalry hasn't arrived 'til now. And even with the US-boys surround the town, the mission is daring and risky like hell for Hogan and the others, after all it's well-known that many SS-member never showed mercy and rather let themselves shot than sparing a captive or someone they hunted.
The next chapter will be full of action, therefore I don't want to reveal anything (it would give away too much).
I hope, you liked the new chapter and I would be really happy to get some reviews. I know, the story is long, but – like I wrote in the beginning of the little 'epilogue' – there is still a few things to do for our boys and the two lovers, and I cross my fingers that you like the very last part of the story.
Have a nice week,
Love
Yours Starflight
