Chapter 9:
(Stuttgart Red Cross Hospital - Same night)
Dr. Markus Bossler, a 70 year old surgeon with snow white hair and friendly green eyes, took rapid observations down on his clipboard as he monitored his newest patient, who had just come out of emergency surgery. Major internal bleeding, bronchitis in result of smoke inhalation, severe injuries to both intestines and liver, and the beginnings of peritonitis. Frankly, Bossler was surprised the man was still even alive after suffering such injuries. Part of his small intestines and liver had to be removed, and he was being given a mix of high dosed antibiotics via IVs in each hand. A third IV was inserted in the patient's forearm to give him a blood transfusion due to the loss of blood caused from his two gunshot wounds to the abdomen.
Bossler looked up at his patient, who had entered into a coma, and shook his head at the sight. The man was wearing a white hospital gown with tiny black diamonds on it, was connected to an EKG machine, oxygen assistance through the nose, his left hand was placed over his extremely swollen belly, and he was as pale as the bedsheets covering him. On top of the sheets was a sea foam green thermal blanket, and a red rubber tube sneaked out from underneath the covers that was inserted in the man's abdomen to drain any excess fluids or harmful bacteria from the healing wounds.
The medic looked down at his clipboard and read the name up at the top of the file. "Robert Hogan, colonel," he said, then looked back at the name's owner. "Colonel Hogan, if you manage to survive through all of this, I'll eat my own stethoscope."
As he made another check on Hogan's vitals, the wooden door to the American's room opened, and another medic, Bossler's assistant, silently made his way inside with the door closing behind him. He was much younger than Bossler. He had light brown brushed to the side, wore black framed glasses, and wore nothing more than a scrubs outfit. He sided on Bossler's left, briefly made his eyes on Hogan, then back at his superior again. "How's he doing, Sir?" The assistant, Dr. Waldemar Dallwitz, asked with genuine concern.
Bossler let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. "He's gone into a coma, and his vitals are still awfully low. Blood pressure's 50 over 33, heart rate a 57, and his lungs and abdominal wall are badly infected. I'm surprised the man made it through surgery, to be honest with you," he reported grimly.
Dallwitz fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "I was reading through his records down in ER before we sent him into surgery...says he's a POW in Luft Stalag 13 back in Hammelburg. He probably has friends there that are worried about him; maybe we should contact him and let them know he's in stable condition."
The older medic shook his head. "They already probably assume him for dead by how bad that fire was...and by the looks of the colonel's current medical condition, I don't want to call them only to give them false hope. If Colonel Hogan wakes up, and his blood pressure and pulse go back up, then I will consider calling the Kommandant at Stalag 13." He let out a heavy breath of air. "But for now, there's nothing more we can do...He's in God's hands now."
Dallwitz turned his gaze back to Hogan and shook his head. "Hang in there, Colonel Hogan. You have lots of people that love you and want you to come back to them...Fight as hard as you can."
Hogan never made a single noise. He was far deep in sleep and surrounded with nothing but darkness and silence. Had it not been for the faint rising and falling of his chest, one could have easily mistaken him for a corpse. And in the current condition he was in, he was closer to being a corpse more than being alive.
Three days had gone by since the night Hogan was reported dead, and today was a day that almost nobody in camp was looking forward to. Today was Hogan's memorial service. The day that his friends would finally have to face the facts and say goodbye to their beloved commanding officer and best friend. The recreational hall was jammed packed with grieving POWs, Hogan's core unit and Kalina standing up at the very front. Up on the stage was a picture of their lost friend, a pine wreath with morning glories around it framing the photograph, and a sign underneath reading 'In loving memory of Colonel Robert E. Hogan: April 4, 1905 - November 18, 1943'.
Kalina was too distraught and grief-stricken to play any music, so Klink had gone high and low to find a guard in his camp that could play piano proficiently. Thankfully, he had struck luck when he found a young corporal named Kaske, who had taken piano lessons for a few years in gymnasium. He played requested songs and themes with Langenscheidt as his page turner.
Klink and Schultz stood in the back of the building, not wanting anyone to see them shedding tears during the service. The fluffy sergeant was already weeping, wiping his wet eyes with a red handkerchief, while Klink did all he could to keep his emotions at bay. As much as he missed the man he considered his only friend, he could not cry at a time like this. Hogan's men and his little girl needed him when they were so raw and in shock. Kalina had practically never set down Hogan's crush cap since the night the American had died. She sat it down beside her when she was eating or hung it on the doorknob when she was in the bathroom, but it went everywhere she did otherwise, not leaving her hands for even a second.
As soon as Kaske had finished playing 'Clair de Lune', Kinch got up on the stage and cleared his throat before speaking. "Uh...hey everyone," he began softly. "I'd like to thank all of you for coming here today. To not only say 'goodbye', but...to honor and remember a man that was worth more than anything money can buy...A man that was nothing but good and love. Kinda funny how God only blesses so little people with such incredible angels in their lifetime. And if anyone was an angel sent from God, it was Colonel Robert Edward Hogan...Colonel Hogan wasn't your typical colonel. Most commanding officers I've met since entering the service were strict. And rude and angry and...so broken of emotion...Colonel Hogan wasn't any of those things, though. He was kind and giving and respectful...So damn smart...If you needed something, he would travel through hell and high water for you. He never once thought of himself while living. It was always about someone else...someone that needed more than he did. I think we could all learn a thing or two from Colonel Hogan. Selflessness, accepting others for what their hearts looked like instead of their demographics...He wanted a world full of peace and love...and how he managed to serve his time in a hell as great as this one, then that just goes to show you how strong and dedicated he was to those beliefs." The sergeant sniffled as he turned to his best friends, specifically Newkirk. "Newkirk, you wanna go first?"
The Englishman, who had his arms wrapped around a silently weeping Kalina, nodded as he handed the small girl off to Carter. He rubbed his tear stricken eyes to prevent himself from crying and walked up the steps onto the stage. He walked in front of the microphone, looked briefly over to his left at Kinch, then to his right where the picture of Hogan sat, then back out at the large crowd and cleared his throat. "Uh...if any one of you blokes know me well enough, it's that I don't do officers. I tend to look the other way and ignore them if possible. I don't know if it's just because British officers are so damn snooty and arrogant or if it's in their job description, but I despised officers when I first got here to Stalag 13. And when the Gov'nor got here, I thought nothing more of him than another one of those big shots back in London. But he quickly surprised me...really surprised me, actually. He was far from any one of those big shots. He was strict when someone was being a blockhead, don't get me wrong here, but he was gentle and open-armed. He wanted to be your friend, not an enemy. And out of all the bloody blokes in this world, he was the most…" He choked on his words as his emotions began to overpower him. He closed his eyes and allowed the tears to fall as he collected himself, then finished. "He was the most human out of the rest of them. There will never be another Colonel Hogan…" Newkirk walked over to Hogan's picture, put his hand on it, and let out a few short sobs. "I just wish he hadn't gone the way he did." He felt Kinch place a hand on his shoulder for comfort, and he nodded, reassuring the sergeant he was alright.
"I'm alright, mate...just needed to cool off a little is all," he answered. Newkirk sniffled, let out a shaky breath to ease his nerves, then walked down the steps to be quickly replaced by LeBeau, who was in a rougher shape than he was. The little Frenchman's eyes were red and wet, and he clutched a damp handkerchief in his hand. He sniffled a few times, wiped the endless tears streaming down his face, then sniffled again before speaking.
"I knew Colonel Hogan was special from the moment I met him. He was never standoffish and always made himself available if one of his friends ever needed him. Every quality that makes a good commanding officer he possessed...Every quality that makes a good human being he possessed. He never made me question that once. He was brave, wise and humble, il est très magnifique." LeBeau paused for a moment as he sniffled and swallowed a large knot down his throat as more tears slipped down his cheeks. "Pierre is right; there will never be another Colonel Hogan...and I will never, ever forget him and everything he did for us." LeBeau looked over to Hogan's picture and broke down again, hanging his head. "Au revoir, Colonel Hogan...You will always be the best commanding officer I ever had."
LeBeau slowly walked down the steps back to his friends. None of them did anything for the longest moment, Carter and Kalina both hesitating to make their way up the stage. Surprisingly enough, it was Kalina that finally mustered up the courage to go up and say her goodbyes to the man she had loved like another father. She got to the center of the stage, Kinch gently rubbing her shoulder as she softly wept and wiped her eyes with a damp hanky, while her other one tightly grasped Hogan's cap and held it against her chest as if to hug the missing person she longed to see one more time. To tell him how much she had respected and loved him. To have one more of his warm hugs and hear his voice so she could commit it to memory until she saw him again one day. She eventually got enough control of her emotions to speak understandably and let out a shaky breath of air before starting.
"When I met Colonel Hogan, I...I didn't know what to think of him...All I ever heard about Americans was that they were mean and arrogant...didn't care about anyone other than their own people…" She shook her head. "Clearly none of them had ever met Colonel Hogan...because he was anything but...He was nice and kind and smart. Brave and strong and warm...He was the definition of humble. If I ever needed some advice, or a hug or someone to make me laugh, he was always one of my first people to turn to. He was more than a Senior POW or commanding officer to me, though...he was my friend…" The emotions getting the better end of her again, Kalina began to cry again uncontrollably. "Colonel Hogan...come back to me!" She continued sobbing, Kinch doing everything he could to ease her pain, when two warm and gentle arms brought her in for a hug and a familiar hand began rubbing the back of her head. She looked up with her teary, red eyes to find her papa standing there, giving her a small smile for comfort.
Kalina closed her eyes again and buried the side of her face into her father's belly, crying a bit more before she could get a hold of herself and finish her goodbye. She looked up at the ceiling, hoping her second father could see her. "I love you, Colonel Hogan...forever."
Klink escorted his daughter back down the stage and over to her friends, where Newkirk took her in his arms and held her close, giving a silent nod to the kommandant that he would take care of her for the rest of the service. And as Klink made his way back to Schultz, Carter found his hidden strength and courage and walked up the steps towards Kinch's side. The young man wiped his eyes with the back of his gloved hand, sniffling every now and then to keep mucus from coming out his nose.
Carter swallowed a knot down his tight throat, let out a soft breath of air, and nodded. "I uh...I've never exactly done one of these things before...Guess I was hoping I'd never have to...Kind of like learning CPR; you hope to never face that situation in your life...I had a rough time with commanding officers, too, in my past. Probably worse than the rest of my friends. To say that my old commander was a nightmare would be an understatement...So when I met Colonel Hogan, I was almost taken aback by who he was. He took me under his wing and showed me all the ropes and strings of Stalag 13...I wouldn't have my best friends here had it never been for him...He taught me how to be strong and have courage of my own. But as great of a teacher and commanding officer he was...he was...he was an even greater friend...and I'll never have another friend as great as he was…" Carter's body began to shake violently as he turned his eyes upwards and swallowed another knot down. "Goodbye, Colonel...Wait for us."
The sergeant parted from his spot on stage and again joined his friends. He buried his face into his hands and began to cry softly, when he felt a gentle hand on one of his arms. He looked up to find little Kalina gazing at him with a hidden 'It'll be okay' in her dimmed blue eyes to make up for her inability to smile. Carter's response was a soft squeeze of her hand as they all turned back to face the stage.
A few more POWs came up to the stage to share their thoughts of Hogan and give their commander a formal 'goodbye', then Kinch left the stage to join his friends and looked over to where Kaske and Langenscheidt stood by the piano. He nodded, and Kaske sat down and began to play the United States' national anthem to the best of his ability.
Carter, LeBeau, and Kalina all started to cry again, Newkirk holding the little girl close to his side as Kinch did with the others. And halfway through the song, tears began streaming down both Kinch's and Newkirk's cheeks, too.
When Kaske hit the last bar, everyone in the room gave Hogan's picture their best salute possible. Prisoners, guards...even kommandant.