Hi, my dear readers,
Thank you once again for the big feedback of the last chapter. Yeah, Schmidt is really in hot water and the whole situation is about to go down the hill – not only concerning the young man, but also Hammelburg. For Hogan and his friends going to the little town is a hell of danger, worse than ever before.
Therefore I don't want to let you wait any longer. Here is the new chapter.
Have fun
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 105 – Papa Bear's last mission, part 2
As the guard came with the rope, Schmidt realized what he had done – what would happen now. He would die – hanged like a sack of potatoes. "This is lynch justice," he said, forcing his voice to sound strong. Never would he grant Hartmann any satisfaction by showing some of the fear that began to creep through his veins.
"You attacked a higher ranking officer…"
"I don't belong to the Waffen or Totenkopf-SS," Schmidt snapped. "You can't…"
"I can, and I will," Hartmann hissed, face still red from the pain, voice hoarse. "You lied to me concerning the town's borders and your responsibility, you hid a wanted man, switched sides to the enemy, and you attacked me." He nodded at the guard. "Prepare the noose."
"Herr Major, you cannot execute him without a trial!" One of Schmidt's men appeared at the door.
"This is murder," another one said.
Hartmann whirled around and gripped for his pistol. "Do you gentlemen want munity?"
"No, but we're sticking to the law, Herr Major."
"Me too," Hartmann said icily. "He attacked a higher ranking officer, and for this, he hangs."
Heseler had pulled the rope through the hook and was knotting a noose – and Schmidt reared up. "Men, stop this insanity!" He called to the two black-cladded guards, while Hartmann's men were pulling him towards the noose.
"Herr Major, this goes too far!" One of the 'policemen' said and lifted both hands as he looked directly into the muzzle of Hartmann's pistol. "And that goes too far, too." He added with more courage than he felt. "Law has to be followed!"
Horst tried to get free. He couldn't deny it anymore; the sight of the noose woke icy dread in him. Hartmann's men cursed and insulted him with names no honorable man would utter, while a few more of Schmidt's men came into the cellars – faces distraught and unsure of what to do as they realized what was happening.
Schmidt stared at the noose that was directly in front of him, and only one word screamed in his mind: Hilda! He wouldn't see her again, would never hold her in his arms, and…
"STOP!" A voice boomed suddenly, drowning out the chaos, but no one seemed to listen, while Horst still tried to break free, and Hartmann's men held him with inhumane brutality.
Two shots rang out, the bullets hitting the ceiling outside of the cell.
Like a switch was flipped, everyone stopped and turned around in alert.
"What the hell is going on here?" Demanded a man in his early forties with dark blonde hair. He wore a black uniform that was torn and dusty. A large bruise 'decorated' his temple, and some blood was smeared on his collar, but his stance was proud while he stepped nearer. Two other SS-men in tousled black, sporting bloodied bandages, accompanied him.
Hartmann frowned as he looked the man up and down, ready to shout at him for the interference, then his gaze fond the rank insignias, and he forcefully pushed his flared temper back.
"Herr Brigarde-Führer," he greeted, while he gave the usual salute. "We're about to execute a traitor."
"And why are you pointing your pistol at two of our own men?" The officer asked sharply. "Are we about to internecine ourselves now?"
Schmidt, whose breath flew and stomach churned, looked at the newcomer. He knew this voice, even if it spoke plain German at the moment. He knew it very well by now – just like he knew those dark eyes. They belonged to no one else than Colonel Hogan. Full of disbelief, he stared at the American as if he had seen a ghost. Here, in the cellars of the Gestapo and SS-HQ, wearing SS-black and acting like a Nazi general, was Robert E. Hogan, former Senior POW Officer of Stalag 13.
For a moment, Schmidt thought his senses would fool him, then realization sank in. Hogan was indeed here – to rescue him. He and obviously two of his friends had entered the lion's den to save him. A wave of relief and gratefulness hit him, and he hid in the very last moment, yet he had to control his eyes from shining, as he glanced at the American officer. The man was really a knight in shining armor – even if he wore the wrong color for once.
Hogan came nearer, looked Schmidt with pretended wariness up and down, and finally turned to Hartmann. "Once again, Herr Major, pray to tell me what this is all about?"
The addressed man cleared his throat. "Sir, just like I said, we were about to execute a traitor. As it seems, a few of his men disagree with this decision, but be assured that they will be punished for it."
Pursing his lips, Hogan watched Schmidt, hoping the young man wouldn't give them away by any kind of wrong reaction, but a second later, he learned once again that Horst had nerves like steel.
"I protest, Herr Brigade-Führer. I was taken captive by the Americans outside of the town and were sent by them to the town council to give the dignitaries the enemy's ultimatum. But Major Hartmann arrested me and refuses to inform the burgomaster and the council."
Hogan lifted both brows and stared at Hartmann. "Is that so?"
"He tries to turn the table, Brigade-Führer…" He stopped, his voice making it clear that he wanted to use the other man's name. "I apologize, sir, but I think I didn't catch your name?"
The impertinence! If Hogan would be one of those guys, he would be offended now at such a lame attempt to provoke him. "You couldn't catch it, because I never gave it. Since when is it usual that a higher ranking officer introduces himself first to a lower ranking one, Herr Major?" He asked sharply.
Taking a deep breath, the German lowered his head. "I'm sorry, sir. The whole mess here – you understand? I'm Artur Hartmann, Sturmbandführer of the Totenkopf-SS East."
"Brigade-Führer Hermann Schubert, police president of Nürnberg," Hogan gave his false identity. "My adjutant, SS-Scharführer Paul Giesen and Untersturmbandführer Richard Schuster, one of my bodyguards who survived the damn travel," he introduced Newkirk and Carter.
"Sir, you come from Nürnberg?" Hartmann asked. "But you were in battle and…"
"We escaped the damn Amis by hair widths," Hogan growled. "Two of my bodyguards died. Unpleasant issue – now I need new ones." His glance wandered back to Schmidt, and he closed the distance to his new German friend. "So, the major accuses you of having switched sides. Any words for your defense?"
Horst had no idea to what Hogan was up to, so he decided to stick to his made-up story. "The major's accusations are nonsense, Herr Brigade-Führer. Like I said, I was taken captive and…"
"And he won't give us any details about the enemy – numbers of soldiers, tanks, supplies, etc.," Hartmann cut in. "Yet we would need that information to start a counter attack."
Robert smiled inwardly. The major just delivered him the perfect reason to get Schmidt away from here – as soon as the distraction started, which would be any moment now. Whirling around, he hissed, "This man has information you need, and you were about to execute him? Fool! He…"
"He attacked me," Hartmann said firmly.
"He kicked the major at his…well…every man's most vulnerable spot," one of the Totenkopf-SS members said angrily.
"And because you won't get up your dick within the next few days, you were about to kill such a valuable source of intel?" Hogan all but thundered. "Get a grip, man! What do you think our beloved Führer will say if he learns that another town was lost, because one SS-major got a kick from a prisoner and was offended by it?!" He watched how Hartmann ducked and added, "I understand that this was painful, and pain can cloud a man's mind. This is the only excuse I can accept for the stupid mistake you almost made." He turned around again. "This man will be asked, and asked again, until…"
Loud booms were heard from outside followed by explosions. Somewhere above one of the shells hit the building that shook for a moment, then dust began to flutter down from the ceiling. Another detonation sent its blast wave through the house, while from outside, more explosions tore through the air.
"Dammit, this I'm calling warning shots!" Hogan snarled, pretending to be furious. Inwardly, he was applauding his comrades on the other side of the river. He had asked Butler to give some warning shots into the direction of the SS-HQ exactly five minutes after he heard two pistol shots ring out from the town – and Alex had kept his promise. The boys, who sent over the shells, should be promoted, so well they hit the building, but only at the upper levels to keep the risk for Hogan and his men as low as possible. Until now, the whole staging went perfect. Time for part two.
"Get out of here – and take the prisoner with us. Giesen, Schuster, make certain that the little rat won't escape." He waved at his inferiors before he turned towards Hartmann. "Is there an official prison somewhere?"
"The real prison is behind the Pfarrhouse at the market plaza," a voice shouted, and not only Hogan, but also Schmidt recognized Fuhrmann. Horst didn't know what to think now – had Fuhrmann betrayed him? He couldn't imagine it, yet a short wave of doubt hit him, as the sergeant appeared, gave him a glare full of loathe, and saluted towards the higher ranking officers. "Herr Brigade-Führer, I can show you the way."
"Very good. We should…" Again a high whistle was to hear, and the building shook because of a third hit. "GET OUT! NOW!" Hogan shouted, and ran out of the cell. He avoided to look down the corridor towards the door that led to the chamber he had been tortured in. Yet the shivers which ran down his back hadn't lessened since he had stepped into HQ and climbed down the stairs. Every fiber of his being screamed to turn around and flee, but he had fought down this urge. Schmidt needed him – Schmidt, who had come to his aid here in these cellars and helped him since then; even becoming a friend.
But Hogan was glad as he raced up the stairs to the ground level, Newkirk and Carter behind him, as well as Fuhrmann, a few SS-men of the different units (the now handcuffed Schmidt in their middle), and Hartmann; leaving this dark place for good. They stepped out of the building, ducking as the attack continued.
"Major, take a few of your men and secure this street and the next one towards the river," Hogan ordered. "Get the rest of our soldiers away from the danger zone, and make sure that they're brought to the north."
"But…"
"That's an order!" The colonel snarled in the best Nazi manner. "As far as I remember, a police president outranks a simple SS-major – especially when civil matters are at stake!" Those words made Hartmann obey. Then Hogan turned towards his friends. "Giesen, Schuster, with me – and take this traitor with you. Hopefully this so called prison is more secure than the local SS-HQ!"
"We'll come with you, sir – for your protection," one of the black-cladded guards said.
"You don't have to," Fuhrmann replied. "We'll take care that the traitor…"
"It's for your own safety, Sergeant," the man interrupted him, and threw an asking glance at the supposed Brigade-Führer.
Hogan saw no other chance than to accept, otherwise he would raise suspicion. "Very well; thank you for your offer."
Again shots were heard, and the men almost ran down the street Langer Graben, turned left into the Weihertorstraße, and neared the old town wall, heading towards the market plaza and the townhall. Only eighty years ago one of the large town gates from the Middle Ages had been here. But after the town fire in 1854, their remains had been torn down. Yet the shadows of the town wall were still large as they bypassed the old stones.
Hogan watched his surroundings carefully, which wasn't easy because of the beginning of the lack of functional street lamps. Yet until a few minutes ago many people had gathered on the market plaza, carrying torches and handlamps, demanding that the burgomaster would surrender the town to the Americans. Butler's 'distraction' had shoed them away, yet a few torches lay still burning on the ground as were a few handlamps. The roof of a house was in flames what spent more light, even if it was a deadly source. Fire workers tried to douse the fire and several people still ran over the plaza to the next bunker. Otherwise, it was quiet. Most citizens had fled again into their own cellars or were hiding in one of the official buildings partly made from rough stones and risen hundreds of years ago.
The atmosphere in the usually so cozy little town was full of dread and inhuman tension, mixed with rising despair and mortal fear. Hogan thought, he could taste it in his mouth, and he didn't like it one bit. He had wanted to prevent this all, but thanks to Hartmann and other idiots, the Hammelburger citizen were experiencing this nightmare – a nightmare that had only started if Hogan couldn't convince the burgomaster and the town council to rise the white flag.
All of sudden, tumult broke lose in the colonel's back. Whirling around, he saw how the six black-cladded SS-men accompanying them aimed at Hartmann's two men, Fuhrmann, and Hogan himself. "No movement, Brigade-Führer!" One of them snapped, while another man held his palm up towards Heseler and demanded angrily, "The keys for the Oberleutnant's handcuffs! And quick!"
Fuhrmann stared at his comrades – and began to grin. "Just have a look. And there I thought you had become disloyal to our Oberleutnant."
"Shut up!" The man hissed. "You didn't move a finger to help him, but even offered to lock him away in the damn prison. And this after you became his confi…"
"Gentlemen," Hogan cut in, smiling. Beside him, Newkirk and Carter began to chuckle, while the black-cladded guards held Hartmann's men in check, and also continued to aim at him and the others. "Before you do something rash, you should know that…"
"Close your trap!" The man snarled. "I'll only wait for a moment to shoot you, you insane…"
"Klausner," Schmidt spoke up, his voice soft. "Klausner, please have a closer look at the Brigade-Führer. You know him – only in a different outfit."
Klausner stared at his superior, then at the 'police president' – and Hogan carefully lifted his hands to his cap.
"May I?" He asked politely, removed his cap and toupee, then tore away the false mustache. "Do you recognize me now?" He asked, and the German stared at him completely baffled.
"I…I do know you, but…"
"This is the Senior POW Officer of the camp," one of his comrades gasped. "I recognize him! I was with Hochstetter as he arrested him in January and…" He shook his head in disbelief.
"Colonel Hogan at your service," Robert nodded; combing the spread fingers of his free hand through his tousled dark hair.
"This…this all was one big theater to free Schmidt." Heseler whispered. "You're A DAMN AMI – and he really IS A TRAITOR!" He screamed, face reddening while he pointed at Schmidt.
"Shut your big mouth, Kraut, or I'll make sure that you don't say anything ever again," Newkirk threatened, eyes blazing.
Schmidt had been freed of the handcuffs by now and rubbed his wrists. "Thank you for coming for me, Colonel," he said softly.
Robert winked at him. "Can't allow the messenger to get killed – and I never let down a friend."
"Or our sweet Hilda. She was about to cry her pretty eyes out as she learned from Sergeant Fuhrmann what happened to you," Newkirk added.
"Fuhrmann?"
Robert made an affirming gesture. "It was him who alerted us after you were arrested. He 'borrowed' a truck, drove south to the only remaining bridge, and ran straight into the arms of our outpost."
"Hm-hm, this young guy really had his finger loose at the trigger," Fuhrmann nodded. "I thought my last hour had come, but then he radioed the camp and asked if there was a 'Colonel Hogan' who knew me – and then I was escorted to Stalag 13." He smirked for a moment, while he glanced the American officer up and down. "Your superior was right; you do look all wrong in this uniform."
"I don't like it, either," Hogan sighed.
Horst turned around and looked at the older man. "And there I began to doubt you, while in truth you stayed loyal to me – even risked your life to get help for me." His voice was warm.
Fuhrmann smiled and tipped his temple with one finger in a sloppy salute. "I told you I have your back no matter what, son."
Hogan looked back towards the empty market plaza. Luckily, no one could see them from the townhall's windows, so the moment of surprise for the men inside of the building was still given. "Gentlemen, we're not done here. We still have an ultimatum to give and to convince a town council and burgomaster to surrender." He placed his cap back on his head and put the toupee and false mustache into his trouser pockets.
Newkirk smiled at the two Totenkopf-SS members. "And you come with us – nice and obeying, won't you?"
"Otherwise we'll put you into prison and let the Amis deal with you later," Fuhrmann said, with pretended kindness, then he gave Hogan an apologizing glance. "Sorry, Colonel."
"It's alright," Robert waved it off, before he fixed the two men. "Your decision, gentlemen?"
The older of them, Heseler, snorted before he said, "There is no option left. We play along."
"A wise decision – one that certainly will raise your chances at staying alive," Carter said, with his own kind of firmness no one really believed.
Hogan sighed, gave him a half amused, half frustrated look and began to walk towards the townhall; seeing that the artillery had damaged a part of the roof, yet luckily no fire had been unleashed. The others followed him.
*** HH *** HH ***
Clemens Klammann, the burgomaster of Hammelburg, wheezed as he climbed up the stairs from the cellars of the townhall after it became clear that the American attack was over. Behind him, the members of the town council was discussing if you could call this chaotic verbal quarreling a 'discussion' at all.
Klammann was a man in his late fifties, and despite the fact that Germany was running out of provisions, he had some effort to glance over his fat stomach down at his feet. He was rather short, his small lips beneath the thick moustache were pale, and his close-set eyes spoke of stubbornness and anger.
His substitute, the second burgomaster Ernst Kasner, was beside him; grumbling into his beard. It was obvious that he loathed the whole situation, but was wagering reason, responsibility and fear.
Cursing his own weight, Klammann finally reached his large office and glanced around. No damage so far. After the original townhall had burnt down completely 80 years ago, it was rebuilt in the new-gothic style, while the market fountain in front of it was built in the early Renaissance style. The original house was risen in the years 1524 – 1529. To rebuild it had lasted half that long. The whole market plaza was an example for the different architectures of the late Middle Ages and offered history combined with comfortable life style with wine houses, restaurants, and shops – at least until now. The enemy was at their door step, and Klammann knew what would happen to the town if its citizens wouldn't surrender.
Yet surrender was far away from his mind. He was a loyal fellow of the Führer – the reason why he had been transferred to this post and replaced the former burgomaster, who had voiced great doubts about the whole way how the Jewish people in town were handled as they were hunted through the streets from a few true Nazis almost four years ago. The former burgomaster had been removed, and Klammann was in charge of the town since then. For him, giving up wasn't an option – but the members of the town council were arguing with each other about that exactly.
Finally, he had enough and raised his voice. "Gentlemen, I don't know of what we're talking about here at all. Until now, the Americans haven't given any ultimatum, but simply stay on the other side of the river. Enforcement for us is certainly already on its way, and SS-Major Hartmann, who took over the post of the vanished Oberleutnant Schmidt, will handle everything. It's up to us to stay true to the Führer's orders and hold every town as long as possible; the rest will be done by our soldiers and…"
"Sorry, Herr Burgomaster, but are you blind? The Americans out there and build three groups – we're encircled. And the soldiers already left," one called out.
"Our own women sent them away, you mean," another man said indignantly.
"It was the only logical thing to do. You saw what happened as they opened fire at the Americans and…"
"The damn cowboys hit my house," a fourth one interrupted furiously. "It's a sheer miracle that the shell still sticks in the wall without exploding, so…"
"Gentlemen!" Klammann tried to get some order into the new rising discussion, but he wasn't heard as seven or eight men began to squabble again. Groaning, he braced his underarms on the surface of his desk and shook his head, unable to find a solution.
*** HH ***
A few SS-guards in front of the townhall lifted their rifles as they saw the little group heading towards them, but calmed down as they recognized a few of their own comrades, and a higher ranking officer. Then they sighed partly in relief as they saw that Schmidt was with them.
"Herr Oberleutnant," one of them called out a little bit confused. "We heard that you were arrested."
"I was," Schmidt answered. "But Brigade-Führer Schubert cleared up the misunderstanding." He nodded towards Hogan, who replied with the usual Hitler-greeting rather sloppy. He never understood why the 'bubble-beard' chose the ancient Roman gesture of greeting someone. Maybe because he regarded himself as the emperor of the 'German Empire' that never existed.
"I have to speak with the burgomaster," Hogan said in plain German. "Now!"
Two of the guards saluted quickly and opened the smaller door that was integrated in the large, wooden gate with the old hinges. "Please follow me, Herr Brigade-Führer," one of them said politely, and entered the building first, Hogan and the others on his heels.
Robert looked around. The high ceilings with the cross vaults, the white painted walls, the sandy balustrades of the wide staircase – for a moment, he thought he had stepped into a castle and Robin Hood would look around an edge every passing second. Well, if it weren't for the many red flags with the cursed symbol that hung from the walls and even 'decorated' the balustrade of the first floor. Hogan half anticipated to see black painted Hakenkreuze at the mighty columns which held the building, but to his relief, the Nazis hadn't been stupid enough to blemish them.
The guard hastened up the stairs to the first level, and Hogan and the others followed. They bypassed a few other SS-members, who stared wide-eyed at Schmidt. But no one dared to ask a question because of the 'Brigade-Führer' who was in their superior's company.
Hogan and the others heard the quarreling voices even in the hallway as they walked down, their boots leaving a few spots on the long carpets that lay on the sandy, stony floor. They bypassed a larger door and the sign beside it showed 'Sitzungssaal' (conference room), then the guard stopped in front of another entrance, knocked, and opened it instantly, not waiting for any reply.
"Burgomaster Klammann, Brigade-Führer Schubert, Oberleutnant Schmidt, and their escort," he reported, while he stepped aside to let the men enter.
Klammann rose from his desk chair, while the other men in the room – the members of the town council and Kasner – stopped mid-sentence and looked with big eyes at the guests.
Hogan clicked his heels and removed his cap. "Burgomaster – Gentlemen," he greeted shortly, while Newkirk turned towards the guard.
"Thank you," he said, as a kind of sending him away. The man saluted and left, closing the heavy door softly behind himself.
"Herr Brigade-Führer," Klammann said, bowing quickly – and for Hogan's taste, far too slimy. "Welcome to Hammelburg. It's good that you're here. We have a serious issue at hand."
"So it seems," Hogan replied, feeling some glee rising in him as he thought 'You don't know how serious this issue really is – and I'm not utterly certain that you will still be happy when you learn who I am for real!'.
Then the burgomaster's gaze wandered to Horst. "Oberleutnant Schmidt, I'm glad to see you. I was told you were arrested?"
"A misunderstanding," Schmidt answered coolly. "Or maybe done on full purpose, even when I ask myself since when it has become usual to attack and arrest a messenger who arrives under the white flag."
Murmurs started for a moment.
"I…beg your pardon?" Klammann asked, while the other men came nearer.
"Messenger?" Kasner asked, and Schmidt nodded.
"Yes, I was sent as a negotiator to give you gentlemen the American's ultimatum. Regrettably, Major Hartmann, who took over command illegally, wants to ignore the ultimatum – the reason why you already lost…" He looked at the grandfather clock that stood in one edge. "More than one and a half hour of the given time to come to a decision."
Klammann wasn't the only one who paled dramatically. "An…ultimatum?" He whispered, shocked. "Surrender or…"
"Full attack," Schmidt ended the sentence. "If the town surrenders by midnight, every citizen and the whole place will be spared. Otherwise…"
"They will spare us completely?" One of the more Nazi-loyal council members called. "Just like Gemünden?"
"Gemünden never surrendered, but the SS and the Wehrmacht continued to fight even as everything was lost," Schmidt explained.
"Says who?" Another older man asked warily.
"The leading officer of the US division – General Butler. He said that he regretted what happened in Gemünden, because many civilians were killed and he did recognize the immaterial value of the town because of its age. But he was given no other choice. And the same will happen here, if we don't raise the white flag."
"If we surrender, we'll be delivered to their mercy. And I've heard stories about the Americans that still gives me nightmares," a third man said hoarsely.
"Propaganda," Schmidt answered, before Hogan could speak. "I was their captive since the afternoon, and they treated me not only fairly, but also the guards and officers of Stalag 13. No manhandling, no abuse, only some good food and even some cigarettes for our boys."
"Who guarantees us that our women and children will be spared?" A fourth man demanded.
"I will guarantee this," Hogan said strongly, realizing that he had to do some work of conviction if he wanted to fulfill the last part of his very last mission. Confused eyes blinked at him, flabbergasted expressions spread over pale faces.
"You will guarantee this, Herr Brigade-Führer? How? They will…"
"I have to clear up a misunderstanding, gentlemen," the US officer said, with a hue of a smile. "I'm not who I seem to be." He threw his cap on the desk surface and straightened his frame, while he opened his black SS-coat and jacket. The shirt beneath it was not yellow, but sandy – and the two eagles were plain to see. "I'm Colonel Robert E. Hogan, US Army Air Corps, former Senior POW Officer of Stalag 13." He almost wanted to grin as he watched a few jaws drop, while others eyes' grew as big as saucers. "And I guarantee you that no civilian of this town has to fear any abuse or tyranny from our men."
Klammann stared at him, then at Schmidt and frowned. "What's the meaning of this?" He demanded. "You brought an Ami in the middle of our town?"
Schmidt snorted. "Believe me, Herr Burgomaster, you cannot count the times Colonel Hogan has been 'in the middle of the town' within the last three years. He and his men. He always came and went away to his liking – and he will do so until he leaves Germany after the war."
"But…if you were a prisoner in the camp, how could you…" Kasner stopped himself. "A spy. You're a spy – hidden in the camp!"
Hogan shrugged one shoulder. "You caught me," he said calmly, while behind him Newkirk and Carter tensed, ready to interfere should one of the men get the wrong idea on how to handle this revelation.
"You are…Papa Bear!" Klausner gasped. As Hogan only nodded, he threw his head into his neck and laughed. "I don't believe it. Hochstetter had been right, yet you even convinced German generals that you were innocent." He looked back at the colonel and shook his head. "Dammit, you're the best spy I ever heard of."
"'Never an escape'," Second Burgomaster Kasner murmured. "That's what they all said about Stalag 13. Of course, there was no official escape. You had your own ways to go and return whenever you wanted." He lifted his jaw. "And now you demand our capitulation."
"Gentlemen, let's face the truth," Hogan replied almost softly. "More than 3000 GIs, dozens of tanks and artillery guns are ready to tear this town down – something I want to prevent. Yes, I walked among you for three years – masked as different German men while spying and sabotaging. But I came to know a lot of the citizens. I came to know the town like my own waist pocket, and I came to like this place. Hammelburg is beautiful, and most people here are kind and want nothing more than peace and a safe future. You, gentlemen, were chosen by them to represent their wishes and keep the town functioning. So, simply do it. Act in their interests."
"If the colonel guarantees us the safety of our people, then…" One man began, but was interrupted by another one.
"And who tells you that this isn't one big lie to have an easier access to our town?"
"Gentlemen, I give you my word as an officer and gentleman that Hammelburg and its people will be spared if you surrender," Hogan said firmly.
"As an officer and gentlemen – you, a spy," the man scoffed.
"It doesn't matter if the colonel was a spy or not," another very old looking man croaked. "And it doesn't matter what a few men in Berlin think. I've lived through two large wars now, and I know exactly what the only outcome is for all parties in the end: sickness, hunger, destruction, and death. I don't know what you heard, Leopold, concerning those 'horror-stories' of the American conquerors. I heard different. I got a letter from my grandson, who was taken captive in Belgium by the Amis. His wounds were treated, he got enough food, and even a roof over his head including a pillow and blanket – he and all the others. Does this sound as if the Americans are monsters who will tear our women and children apart?"
"Hartmut is right," another council member agreed with the old man, while he addressed the others. "My youngest sister lives in the Rhine area. Berlin spread the lies that the Americans are butchering our people, in truth they gave food and medicine to the villages they conquered – even chocolate for the children. Without their help, my sister and her remaining family wouldn't have survived the last winter."
"This is a trick. They want to wear down our defense, and…"
"Are you stupid? They conquered the Rhine area, end of story. It would have been easy for them to occupy the taken land and kill most of our people, instead they shared their own supplies with them," the old man snapped.
"And you think they will let us live our life like we want after they get our town?" Another man rose to speak.
"What else?" A thin, older man said before he addressed Hogan. "Colonel, please tell us clearly and truly what your men plan to do with us."
Robert swallowed a sigh. "The two other gentlemen were right. We do nothing. We will confiscate all things which have a Nazi-symbol, books like 'Mein Kampf' will be burnt, and we are going to inform you about the crimes Hitler, Himmler, and the others did and you didn't know about until now. We'll also check the younger men for their meaning and have a close eye on you for the next few months. That's all."
"Are you going to rule the town?" Another man wanted to know, while Klammann and Kasner exchanged a glance with each other; clearly not liking the direction the talk was taking.
"As far as I understood, General Butler planned to set up a kind of military government for the whole area with the headquarters here in Hammelburg. But we will cooperate with your own officials, who will be checked through first. Some of you certainly will be replaced because of your regards, but be assured that we will take no reprisals against you. We want you to return to a normal life as soon as possible – in a kind of peaceful co-existence with us."
Soft murmurs were heard now, while the oldest man – 'Hartmut' – said with a high voice, "Colonel, we want to discuss before we vote."
Hogan nodded. "Of course, sir, You still have more than an hour left, so use it wisely." He pulled out one of the visitor chairs and sat down before he glanced at Schmidt, who followed his example. As it seemed, this was going to last a little bit.
*** HH ***
Well, the discussions went on – and it was already past midnight. Hogan began to became nervous, just like Schmidt. The ultimatum was off, yet Robert knew Butler. He would give the town extra time, yet the question was, how much.
Outside the flickering lights of torches shined through the window of the office and there was no need to look down on the market plaza to know that it was filled with citizen and refugees from the East. Everyone in town knew instinctively that these hours decided over life and death, and the smell of fear waved gravely over the town.
And then it happened, because where men like Hartmann were involved, bad surprises always happened. It was half past midnight as someone knocked forcefully on the door, and before the sweating, anxious burgomaster could even take a breath to answer, the entrance was pushed open.
"Herr Burgomaster, excuse my unpolite intrusion, but I'm in hurry." Hartmann.
Horst instinctively tensed in his seat, while Hogan stiffened, too. Newkirk and Cater held their hands firmly at their guns, waiting for any signal their superior and friend would need help. The major stepped towards the desk and the visitor chairs, addressing the US colonel firmly.
"Herr Brigade-Führer, your order was executed. The rest of the soldiers were brought to the north, the streets near the river are secured by our men and…" He stopped as he reached the supposed 'police president of Nürnberg' and stared with big eyes at the man, whose face he recognized from their meeting earlier, but whose beard had vanished and whose hair had…darkened? And what kind of shirt was he wearing? Then the major's gaze found an uncuffed Schmidt, who sat beside the high ranking 'SS-officer' and who bent forward in alert as their eyes met.
"What, the hell…" Hartmann whispered.
"Major, this is no Brigade-Führer but a US officer of…" Heseler was silenced as Klausner's fist made contact with his jaw.
"Shut up!"
Hartmann tore his gun out, but before he could even lift it, Hogan was on his feet, caught the German's weapon hand, and struck a mighty blow to the other man's jaw. He took the cracking noise with some satisfaction, after all this man was responsible for the death of over 150 US officers.
Hartmann was hurled against the desk. Papers, pens, two framed pictures, and a lamp were knocked away as the two men began to struggle, leaning half over the desk in the process. Behind them, Schmidt's men secured the two members of Hartmann's staff, while Carter had the presence of mind to close and lock the door before the noises could alert the other guards in the hallway.
Klammann pressed himself against the wall beside the window; clearly afraid and showing once again that the most men like him were only strong when there was no danger for themselves.
Hogan banged his opponent's weapon hand two times against the edge of the desk so that the major was forced to let his gun drop, yet the German kicked out in an attempt to make the American lose his balance. His face was an ugly mask of hate and wrath, as he snarled, "Now I recognize you! You're that damn Ami-officer from the camp!"
"You earned yourself a hundred points," Hogan mocked, before his left hand landed another blow to the man's jaw.
"Gentlemen, please; we can handle this like grown men!" Klammann technically begged, while he brought as much distance as possible between himself and the fighting officers, eyes big with fear.
Fuhrmann blocked the way of two council members and Kasner, who wanted to use the given chance to flee. "Stay where you are! No one is allowed to leave the room!" He snapped, hand on his gun.
"You will hang for this!" Hartmann snarled.
A snarky laugh escaped Hogan. "You're quick with the hangman's daughter, Hartmann, even against your own people. But you will come to know a noose in person soon enough. For what you did to Connor and the others, it will be you who will see the gallows!"
Again the major attacked, but he had forgotten Schmidt. The younger man had lifted the desk lamp from the floor and hit him on the head from above. He had aimed well, because Hartmann fell down like a cut off tree, not moving again.
Hogan was a little out of breath, but smiled at his new friend. "Thanks!"
"You're welcome," Schmidt answered, before he sat the lamp back on the desk as if nothing happened. "Burgomaster, there are some documents spread over the carpet, and pens, too. You really should keep a tidier order in your office," he couldn't help but taunt.
Fuhrmann and Newkirk began to laugh quietly, and even a few of the black-cladded men grinned. That same moment, another knock came on the door again, and a voice called out, "Herr Brigade-Führer, Herr Major, we heard strange noises. Is everything all right?"
Hogan groaned quietly. "Why do you Germans have to be so damn dutiful?" He asked Schmidt, who shrugged with a smirk.
"This is the kettle calling the pot black."
Straightening and closing his uniform coat, Robert signaled Fuhrmann and Carter to pull the unconscious Hartmann out of view and went to the door to open it. Outside, four SS-guards stood, clearly nervous.
"Thank you for your worry, gentlemen, but an open window blew away some documents from the burgomaster's desk. He tried to catch them and knocked off his lamp. That's all."
"Everything is perfectly all right, gentlemen." Klammann called from the inside.
Nodding and saluting, the four men left, and Hogan closed the door again before he turned around. Behind Klammann stood Carter, who removed his pistol he had pressed against the older man's back.
"Carter," Hogan rebuked him and shook his head. "The man is the first leader of this town."
"And a coward," Andrew replied.
"That's beside the point," Robert sighed. Then he turned towards the window. From the outside, down on the market plaza, he heard more and more voices. As it seemed it wasn't enough anymore for the citizen to be simply present, but to take some action. Carefully, the colonel stepped around the desk and towards the window. Many women and children had dared to leave their houses and were in front of the townhall carrying torches or candles; accompanied by older men, personnel of the hospital and even the priest stood in the first line, holding a cross. They all were calling something in a chorus. Opening one window, Hogan felt a pang of understanding and sympathy, as he heard, "Save our town! Surrender!"
Robert glanced over to the council members, and the first and second burgomaster. "I think you know now exactly what the citizens want, gentlemen."
The men looked at each other and nodded finally. "Yes," the man with the given name Hartmut answered. "I was of this opinion from the beginning." He glanced at the other men. "Who votes for surrender, may lift his hand." He did it himself, and almost everyone followed his example. "You see, Colonel; we do listen to our citizens' wishes."
Hogan nodded. "Okay. Before you hand over the town, all soldiers of the Wehrmacht has to leave. Furthermore, the members of the Volkssturm have to give up their weapons. The risk that some of them will put up some resistance, is too high."
Schmidt grimaced. "I knew you would say this." He glanced at his men. "Who will take up the task?"
For a long moment the six men exchanged glances, then a man in his middle ages rose his hand. "If you entrust me with the job, Herr Oberleutnant, I'll do it."
"Barner, okay!" Schmidt nodded. He glanced at Hogan. "I speak with my other subordinates outside and inform them of the new information. If we want to gather all the weapons from the Volkssturm members in town AND send the rest of the Wehrmacht away, I need more men then I currently have here."
Robert took a deep breath. "Thank you. And be careful." He threw a look at the second Burgomaster. "Maybe you should accompany the Oberleutnant to legitimate those orders, which have been given by the town's government."
The man gulped. "I?" he asked with some tremble in his voice.
"You," Hogan confirmed. "After all, you're the second burgomaster – and the first one his still needed here. So, fulfill your duty!"
Kasner didn't even dare to object. "O-o-o-okay."
He followed Barner out of the door; Klausner accompanied them to ensure their safety.
"All right, we have to send a delegation out to the general. Who volunteers?" Klamman asked quietly.
It didn't take Hogan by surprise that this time no one raised their hand. Grimacing, he looked from one council member to the next one, and it was Klammann who asked tentatively, "Colonel, couldn't you…"
"What? I shall bear for our division your decision of surrender? I'm no citizen of your town. Hell, I'm not even German." He shook his head. "No, this coal you have to get out of the fire by yourself."
"I'll do it," Schmidt sighed, but again Hogan shook his head. "Horst, as much as I appreciate your willingness to do everything for this town, it's the town that has to surrender; not the local SS or Gestapo. It has to be one of the citizens, because only the citizens will participate from the deal." He lifted a hand as Schmidt wanted to protest. "Your men, who even aided us within the last several hours, will be dealt with differently than those who stay true to Hitler. I promise you that they won't face trouble, but you – as a SS-officer – can't surrender for the civil people of Hammelburg."
"Yet I was sent as a negotiator as you kindly remember," Horst argued.
Klammann sighed deeply. "The colonel is right, Herr Oberleutnant. One of us has to go." He gulped. "I'm old and have a back issue, so…"
"There are men here who are very much older than you are," Hartmut grumbled.
"Do you want to go?" Another man asked him.
"I don't speak English," came the answer.
Hogan stared at them in disbelief. "Do I get this right? You're ready to surrender, but no one wants to deliver the message?"
"None of us speak English," another man said, and Robert threw his hands up.
"I don't believe this." He rubbed his temple. Why had everything to be this difficult? The town was ready to surrender, the needed preparations for it had started, but no-one was brave enough to bring this message to General Butler?
His gaze found the grandfather clock and he groaned as he looked at it closer: Twenty minutes to one o'clock in the night – the ultimatum was long up now…
TBC…
Well, the last mission of our dear Hogan is one to remember. To free a prisoner right under the nose of the SS is one thing, to convince a whole town to surrender, is another challenge. I want to inform you that the whole way the things are going within Hammelburg – convincing the burgomaster to give up, to send the last remaining soldiers away and the ultimatum – are historical. I only mixed Hogan and his men and Schmidt into it and changed the name of the officials of Hammelburg. Even the fact that no-one wanted to go to the American troops because no-one seemed to speak English, happened this way.
The next chapter brings the decision; everything points to a disaster or to peace. Therefore I don't want to reveal too much. You've to wait (smile).
I hope, you liked the new installment – including Hartmann getting a little beating up and the whole surprise Hogan and the others are for the burgomaster and the town's official personnel.
Like always, I would be happy to get some reviews.
Have a hopefully calm and nice week
Love
Yours Starflight
