Chapter 8:
It took about fifteen minutes for LeBeau to completely cover Carter's buttered up fingers with soapy water, but the task had finally been accomplished, and the little Frenchman stood back beside Hogan. The colonel turned his eyes to Kinch and Newkirk, who were still kneeling beside their distressed friend. Hogan nodded. "You guys ready?" He asked.
Carter gulped a large lump down his throat. "I hope so, Sir," he answered meekly.
Kinch and Newkirk turned to face one another. "On three," Kinch said. They looked back at Carter. "One. Two. Three." They pulled back on the young man, while Carter pulled his fingers as hard as he could, feeling the gradual growth of relief fill him as his fingers slowly slipped out of place. After a couple minutes of pulling and yanking, Carter's fingers were finally free, and everyone sighed with relief.
"You alright, mate?" Newkirk asked sincerely, rubbing his sore shoulder.
"I'm alright now," Carter said, doing a mix of squeezing and rubbing his aching fingers. "An ice pack would be nice, though."
Hogan turned his eyes to Kalina. "Kalina, go get Carter an ice pack, won't you?" He requested.
"Jawohl, Colonel Hogan," she answered, rising to her feet. Klink's daughter disappeared into the kitchen, while Bäumle crossed his arms and shook his head in disgust.
"You stupid dummkopf; I could've been resorted to dismantling that entire furnace to free your clumsy fingers," the captain hissed.
It was Hogan's turn to cross his arms. "Or it could have been worse than that," he said softly, yet loud enough for Bäumle to hear. He got a stern glare in response.
"Worse as in how?" Bäumle growled.
Hogan nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "Have General Burkhalter walk in here and suspect you of torturing a POW against the Geneva Conventions." He clarified.
"What?! I did no such thing!"
"I know that. Heinrich knows that. But General Burkhalter can't be persuaded into thinking otherwise once his mind is set on something. You're lucky he didn't walk on in while Carter was stuck. It could have ended badly for you, Sir. Possibly a transfer to a much more chilly climate."
Heinrich hesitantly leaned over towards his commanding officer. "He does make a very valuable point, Sir," he said, earning him a harsh gaze in return.
"Did I give you permission to speak?" Bäumle snapped back, making the poor man bounce back a bit and shake his head rapidly. Seeing that his assistant would not cause anymore distractions, he made his gaze back to the American and gnarled his teeth in surrender. "Fine," he said. "But mark my words, Colonel, if you repeat a word of this incident to anyone, I'll…"
"Kommandant, you have my word of honor as an officer." Hogan replied, with a firm nod.
Bäumle looked off to the left and let out a steamy breath of air through his nose, doing all he could to keep his temper in check. "Why do I have a feeling that's the best answer I'm going to get out of you?"
Heinrich slowly raised his hand. "Herr Kommandant," he began. "Can I talk now?"
"NO!" Bäumle shouted, then turned to everyone in the kommandant's quarters. "Everybody back to your posts! NOW!"
Kalina frowned as she taped a small bag of ice around Carter's fingers. "But we haven't had cake yet," she answered softly.
Bäumle raised his finger and opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "Heinrich, bring me the brandy," he ordered.
"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Heinrich said, with a salute. "Shot glass or tumbler, Sir?"
"I said 'bring me the brandy'; as in 'Bring me the whole damn bottle'," Bäumle hissed. He turned around as Heinrich parted ways and closed his eyes again as a massive headache began to develop. "Maybe I'll drink myself into a coma, if I'm lucky."
Later that evening, Burkhalter had taken a detour from his check-in with Bäumle to see how Klink was doing. The colonel was still extremely weak and could only talk so loud, but his color seemed to be coming back, and he could socialize more than he had been able to previously.
As the two officers casually conversed with each other, a faint knock came to the open door and diverted both of their attentions to the threshold. They found Hogan and Bäumle standing behind Kalina, who was grinning from one ear to the other and holding a bouquet of balloons with a Mylar in the center that said 'Get Well Soon!'.
Seeing his daughter, Klink gave a weak smile, his blue eyes twinkling with joy as she parted from Hogan and Bäumle, set the balloons down on the nightstand, and carefully wrapped her arms around him. Klink gave her a gentle kiss on the head and rubbed the back of it, making Kalina smile more and gaze up at her father lovingly.
"Colonel," Hogan began, wearing a small grin. "How are we feeling tonight, Sir?"
Klink let out a labored breath of air and swallowed before answering. "Tired still, but a little better today. I don't feel like going to sleep every five minutes."
"Morphine will do that to you," Kalina said, with a nod.
Bäumle scoffed as he crossed his arms. "If that's the case, then perhaps I should talk Dr. Klaussner into giving this no good Hogan enough morphine to…" He was cut off by the sound of Klink's telephone ringing. He gnarled his teeth as he snatched up the receiver and placed it to his ear. "Captain Bäumle, Heil Hitler...ah, Sergeant Schultz. How is everything going there?" He listened to what Schultz told him on the other end, and Hogan and Kalina watched as his stern gaze turned into one of horror. Bäumle's skin grew as white as the sheets on Klink's bed, and his pupils dilated twice in size. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S MISSING?!"
It was then that Klink and Burkhalter turned their attentions to Bäumle, the sick kommandant's eyes growing full of worry, while the general raised a suspicious eyebrow and eyed Bäumle carefully.
"YES, I want you to call out the dogs! Sound the alarms, and pull men for a search party. Get 'em off the Russian Front if you have to!" The captain hollered before slamming the phone back down on its cradle.
"Trouble in paradise, Captain?" Hogan asked innocently, earning a sharp glare back from Bäumle.
"Major Yamamura is missing," Bäumle reported. "Somehow he managed to escape out of camp earlier tonight after I requested double the guards in all sectors of camp."
"WHAT?!" Burkhalter exclaimed. "You let one of Germany's most wanted men escape from captivity?!"
"No, Herr General, I would never allow such a thing. I don't know the man responsible for this heinous act, but I promise you they will be brought to justice at once." Bäumle gave a nervous chuckle as he wrung his hands and slowly turned his gaze to the room entrance, his expression becoming dark. "HEINRICH, GET IN HERE, NOW!" He shouted.
Like a bolt of lightning, Heinrich came running inside Klink's room so fast that he could not stop himself until he ran into his commanding officer from behind. The sudden blow sent Bäumle forward and onto a saline bag resting on Klink's hospital bed table. The forceful impact was enough to bust the bag open, send the saline bursting out, and drenching Burkhalter in the process.
Kalina, who had her head resting on her father's chest and still had her arms wrapped around him, felt her jaw drop from its hinges and her eyes bug out at the sight. She could only turn to face Hogan and found the colonel covering his mouth with his hand to hide the wide grin coming to his face.
"Oh no!...Oh no!" Bäumle cried, his and Heinrich's pupils widening with horror as they saw the sopping wet general in front of them. "Oh no!...Oh no!...General Burk...General Bur…" Bäumle started to whimper as Burkhalter spit a stream of saline out of his mouth in the duo's direction. Though silent as can be, it was very clear by the blazing flames in Burkhalter's eyes that he was doing all he could to keep himself from boiling over.
Once the initial shock wore off, Bäumle turned his gaze back to Heinrich and glared at him accusingly. "You did this on purpose!" He exclaimed. "You, you, you saboteur!"
"Do not blame me; all I did is come as commanded," Heinrich answered meekly.
"Next time when I say 'come', go to the Russian Front instead!"
"Both of you should go to the Russian Front!" Burkhalter finally snapped. "You two are a poor excuse for Germans all around this country. I want you two to go back to Berlin for reassignment and to never step foot in this city AGAIN!"
"But you can't do that," Bäumle said. "What will happen to Stalag 13?"
"You will leave that to my doing. As for you two, you better hope the Gestapo does not suspect you as being accessories to this escape." Burkhalter clarified.
Heinrich furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion and stared at the general as if he had just grown a second head. "You mean like a purse or something, Herr General?" He questioned dumbfoundedly.
Everyone but Bäumle's assistant tilted their heads down with an expression of disappointment plastered on their faces, pinching the bridge of their noses as a massive headache hit all of them. It was Hogan, though, who finally broke the silence after letting out a heavy sigh. "Heinrich," he began.
"I know, I know; shut up, Heinrich," the man himself answered, hanging his head in shame.
Kalina buried her face into her father to keep Burkhalter from seeing the smile creeping onto her face, Klink closed his eyes and shook his head, and Burkhalter let out a steamy breath of air through his nose while he rolled his eyes. For the first time since he could remember, the person that was pissing him off the most was somebody other than Klink. To his extreme surprise, it turned out that Klink wasn't the biggest fool in Germany. Bäumle and his air-headed assistant just took that win from him.