Chapter 5:
The ride to the hospital was long and dead silent. No one said a single word to anybody, as Bäumle was in no mood to speak to anyone. Heinrich drove, while Hogan, Newkirk, Schultz, and Kalina sat in the back of Klink's staff car. When they finally arrived at the hospital, the group of six went straight to Klink's floor and walked down several feet from the elevator until they came to a halt at the nurse's station. Bäumle turned sharply on his heels and faced the others with an icy stare.
"Alright," he said, command-like. "Heinrich, accompany Fraulein Kalina and the prisoners to Colonel Klink's room. Sergeant Schultz and I will stay here and get a quick update from Dr. Klaussner before meeting all of you there."
"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Heinrich answered, smiling like an idiot as he gave a firm salute.
"And get rid of that ridiculous grin of yours. You make it look as if we Germans are friendly or something."
As Schultz and Bäumle walked off to find Klink's physician, Hogan, Newkirk, and Kalina began their trek towards Klink's room with Heinrich, who was sipping on fruit punch from a styrofoam cup, following from behind. When the kommandant's assistant paused to read something on a bulletin board, Hogan pulled his two friends aside.
"We've gotta get rid of Heinrich if we're gonna convince Klink to send Bäumle away," the colonel said, in a whisper.
"How the bloody hell are we gonna do that when Bäumle's got a Kraut on us 24-7?" Newkirk asked, just as quietly.
Hogan pursed his lips together and began to snap his fingers as he thought of an idea, while Kalina spotted another styrofoam cup filled with fruit punch on the second nurse's station beside them. A lightbulb turning on in her head, she tapped Hogan on the shoulder and gestured to the two to look at the cup. They did as told, then looked back at Kalina, who held a finger to her lips. She cautiously reached out for the cup, grabbed it, then silently made her way over to Heinrich, who had completely forgotten the group he was supposed to 'babysit' at that moment.
Looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, Kalina poured a bit of the drink on the floor by Heinrich's feet, quickly discarded the cup, then made her way back to Hogan and Newkirk and put on a fake look of horror as she pointed at Bäumle's assistant.
"Help! Help! He's coughing up blood!" She cried.
As everyone around them began to scream for help, Heinrich looked down at his feet, saw the spilled fruit punch by his feet, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers as he pointed at it. "Wha, where, where did all of that come from?" He asked anxiously.
"Take it easy, Sir, easy there," Hogan said, taking a gentle hold of Heinrich's arm. He turned his head back. "Somebody get this man a wheelchair! I think he's got severe abdominal metriosis."
"What does that mean?" Heinrich exclaimed, as Newkirk grabbed a wheelchair and Hogan eased the German into it. "I feel fine, though!"
"Oh please, Sir, don't try to talk. Boy, those pupils look awfully dilated. Good thing we caught it when we did, Sir," Hogan continued, ignoring Heinrich's complaints.
"Please stay with us, Heinrich, please stay with us," Kalina said, feigning deep concern.
The sound of rushing footsteps became louder and louder until Dr. Klaussner appeared with his medic team following from behind. He stopped on Heinrich's left and looked up at Hogan, immediately playing along with whatever it was his friends were up to.
"What do we have here, Colonel?" Klaussner asked professionally.
"Coughing up blood, dilated pupils, I think he's got a bad case of abdominal metriosis," the American answered, gesturing to Heinrich. "He's even starting to shake, Doctor, I think it's progressing quickly."
The Head Surgeon turned to his assistant and trusted confidant, Dr. Hans Schnauzer. "Get this man to ER at once. I want a full body x-ray, hemoglobin samples, and 20 CCs of crystalloid fluids, stat," he ordered.
"Needles?!" Heinrich cried, as he was rushed downstairs to the emergency room. "No, no no no, I feel fine. I'm just fine. Herr Kommandant!"
Once Klaussner's team and Bäumle's assistant were out of sight and hearing range, Newkirk turned his gaze back to his commanding officer and raised an eyebrow at him. "Severe abdominal metriosis?" He remarked curiously.
Hogan merely shrugged his shoulders. "Sounds pretty serious to me, don't you think?"
The Englishman could not think of an argument and nodded in agreement.
Hogan looked at Newkirk for a moment longer, then turned his gaze to Kalina and smiled. "Come on," he said. "I think someone's been aching to see her father long enough."
Kalina's face brightened like sunshine as she nodded eagerly, then she zipped down the hallways to her father's room, a smirking Hogan and Newkirk following her from behind.
Klink was deep asleep, exhausted from all the medications he was on and the pain from his surgical wound. His IV'd hand rested on top of his swollen belly, and he was just about to start dreaming, when a soft knock came to his door. He fluttered his eyes open and slowly turned his head to find Hogan, Newkirk, and Kalina, who held a bouquet of flowers and a bar of chocolate, in the threshold of his room. All three of them had grins on their faces, but it was his daughter that beamed the most. He gave Kalina a tired smile as she ran to his side, put the bouquet of flowers and chocolate bar on his nightstand, then gently wrapped her arms around her father and gave him a big hug, smiling wider as she got one in return. She lifted her head after getting a kiss on the forehead.
"I brought you some chocolate to eat, Papa," Kalina told him. "I know how much you love chocolate; thought it would make you feel better quicker."
"Oh baby," Klink said, with fatigue. He reached out his hand to touch her cheek, trying to make sure she knew he was deeply touched by the gesture. "I can't have any chocolate right now. Liquids only until further notice."
Kalina furrowed her eyebrows together. "Do you want me to melt it so you can drink it, then?" She asked sincerely.
The smile on Klink's face widened a bit, his blue eyes twinkling slightly as he continued to caress his daughter's cheek with his thumb.
"How are you feeling, Kommandant?" Hogan asked, his cap held in his hands.
"Colonel told us you took a nasty fall to a gallbladder infection." Newkirk added.
Klink let out a weak moan as he rubbed his right side. "Don't remind me," he begged. "Just thinking of this tube in me makes me hurt."
"Those abdominal operations will do the trick for you, Colonel," Hogan said. "Had that same tube in me for almost five days when I had my appendix removed. I drank so much ginger ale I couldn't so much as look at a bottle afterwards."
"Are you okay, Papa?" Kalina asked, worried. "Do you need anything?"
Klink closed his eyes and swallowed before answering. "A glass of water would be nice," he answered.
Kalina shot to her feet and hurried to the sink to get some ice cold water, leaving Hogan and Newkirk to start their plot in getting rid of Bäumle. Hogan cleared his throat and began. "So uh, how are they treating you here, Sir? Any pretty nurses or good drinks they're giving yah?"
Klink let out a muffled smirk. "If you consider grape flavored medicine and heparin shots in the stomach 'treating me well', I'm living like royalty then."
"Could be worse," Hogan said. "Could be getting 20 CCs of crystalloid fluids and hemoglobin tests done right now."
The German colonel opened his eyes again and turned a suspicious glance at his Senior POW. "Why would you say that?" He asked questionably.
Hogan fell quiet for a brief moment, then changed the subject with, "No reason."
Klink eyed them a bit longer, then saw Kalina returning with his cup of water. He took it gratefully as she sat down beside his legs, told her 'thank you', then took a sip before resting the cup on his belly and looking back at the two prisoners before him. "How's Stalag 13 doing?" He asked.
Hogan let out a heavy sigh as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. "Kommandant, I didn't wanna be the one to tell you, but you've left me with no choice. Your temporary is violating several laws in the Geneva Convention and possibly putting Stalag 13's name in jeopardy with the Red Cross."
"Violating several laws, what do you mean?" Klink asked, sounding a bit more alert and awake.
"Oh Kommandant, Captain Bäumle is brutal, I say. Brutal. He's threatened me and my men to be shot if we do something even in the slightest offense. Just getting to roll call two minutes late will get us shot and starved. Or beaten, if he chooses that instead of."
Klink's eyes widened with horror at what he was hearing. "Beaten and starved?" He gasped.
"You gotta get rid of him, Kommandant. He's ruining your entire camp and putting my men in grave danger. You're the only one that can save Stalag 13 from utter turmoil now." Hogan continued pleadingly.
It was then Klink narrowed his eyes in displeasure, getting the wrong message from the American. "Hogan, I can barely sit up, let alone walk. You expect me to get out of this bed and go back to being the kommandant like this surgery never happened?"
"I meant get Burkhalter stationed at camp until you were well enough to come back. Why would any of us mess with a general? Sure, he's a Kraut and more fearsome than Captain Bäumle, but at least he has a small sense of humanity left inside him."
Klink stared at Hogan for what felt like hours, saying absolutely nothing in response. A nasty chill was running up and down his spine, his stomach beginning to feel nauseated from something other than the tube in him. Was what Hogan said true? Was Bäumle as bad of news as Colonel Koch had been? Or was Bäumle, if it was even possible, worse than the colonel had been? What did that mean for Stalag 13 for the next eight weeks with him off duty? And what did that mean for his sweet baby girl? Would she face the same horrors she had faced with Koch again? Who would protect her if all it was true?
He finally turned to Kalina, who was watching him carefully and with a concerned gaze. Klink took a hold of his daughter's hand with his free one and squeezed it tight, looking at her innocent face as if she was the key to getting him to ask Burkhalter to send Bäumle away?
"Suße, is it true?" He asked her. "Is Captain Bäumle really as bad as Colonel Hogan says he is?"
Kalina opened her mouth to speak, but she never got the chance to say anything, when two new sets of footsteps came near. Soon Schultz and Bäumle were entering inside the room and stopping at Klink's side, both Germans giving the ill colonel a firm salute.
"Colonel Klink," Bäumle said cordially. "I am Captain Bäumle, your temporary at Stalag 13. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir. General Burkhalter has told me many things about you."
Klink raised his eyebrow quizzically. "He has?"
"Oh yes," Bäumle answered. "Told me your camp is the only one to have no successful escapes from it. That you're a loyal German through and through. And after what that scum Koch did to taint the Luftwaffe's name, it's been my goal to bring back the honor and glory our unit in the military once had in Berlin. That's why I'm tightening up a few rules at Stalag 13, if you don't mind. After all, Colonel, you have a strong reputation to hold up to."
Schultz rolled his eyes when he was certain that neither Klink or Bäumle were looking at him. The captain seemed to be a bigger kiss-up than Klink was. That, or Bäumle was doing everything he could to please Klink so well that it would be near impossible to get rid of him.
"Captain, as lovely as that sounds, I don't think threatening the prisoners with…" Klink was cut off by Bäumle.
"You know, Colonel, I've got quite the connections back in Berlin. This all goes well at Stalag 13 while you recover, I might just put in a good word for you with some of my colleagues a part of the German High Command."
Kalina and Newkirk looked at Hogan with frantic swelling in their eyes, the colonel trying to quickly think of a way to save them all before Klink was sucked into Bäumle's trap. Unfortunately, their bald kommandant seemed to be slipping away faster than they could catch him. His cloudy eyes seemed to clear up for a moment, his pale face brightening in color a bit as an anxious grin came to his face.
"A promotion?" Klink gasped.
"General Wilhelm Klink. Sounds pretty good to the ear, wouldn't you say so, Colonel?" Bäumle remarked, knowing he had the colonel wrapped around his finger now.
"Kommandant, do you not remember what I just told you; he's threatening to starve us if we misbehave. That's inhuman." Hogan exclaimed, desperate to win the German back over again. It was too late, though. Bäumle had won Klink's approval like a putty in his hands.
"Captain Bäumle, my camp is your camp," Klink said, the usual spunk in his voice replaced with a thick cloud of fatigue. "You and your assistant are welcomed for as long as I am out on recovery."
"Danke, Colonel," Bäumle said gratefully, then looked around the room and noticed that Heinrich was nowhere to be found. He pursed his lip and furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion. "Speaking of my assistant, when the hell did Heinrich go off to, anyways?" He asked, crossing his arms.
It was then they heard a loud yelp belonging to Heinrich, followed by crying a few feet down the hall. The noise made Hogan hang his head in misery and closed his eyes in defeat. "The same noise I'd like to make right now," he grumbled to himself.