March 12, 1943, Afternoon, Barracks in Stalag 13, Germany
Hogan straightened up and slid the faucet handles back into position while the others crowded around him. They were all practically bursting with their questions, but their leader only held up his hand for silence. "Well, they made it. All three of them."
Lebeau wondered at that, expressed his surprise. "Three? Only three? What are they doing, Mon Colonel? Why are there so few of them?" The boys repeated his questions eagerly; for a minute the din was deafening. Hogan covered his ears in exasperation until they quieted.
"Better. Now calm down, everyone. From what I could see, the field marshal and a major went with Klink into his office. I think Schultz is helping a corporal with the bags." Hogan moved to his room, men trailing out behind like the tail of a comet. "We've got three days to pick a plan of action, and it's gotta work. London made it plain, this job's important, so let's get thinking." He pulled open a drawer and passed out cigars that had originally belonged to Klink. They all stood in silence, contentedly puffing away. Carter suddenly leaned forwards.
"Honestly, sir, how are we gonna capture a field marshal?" Carter asked. "I mean, yeah, we've done it before, but this is Rommel we're talking about. He's one of Hitler's best, if not the best general that Ol' Scramble Brains has. If he disappears, they'll tear apart this entire side of Germany, and interrogate a lot of innocent people. It could get hairy really fast."
" 'E's got a point, guv'nor," Newkirk was also unsure. "This isn't some no-name Kraut. Three of 'em, hah. They've probably got this whole bloody camp surrounded right now."
"So he's got to disappear somewhere else, fine. London sent us orders; we've got to do our best," Hogan argued stubbornly. "Anyone got any ideas?"
"We could drug him and ship him out through the tunnel," Lebeau offered. "I am going to be cooking for them tonight."
Then they'd come and take this camp apart, find our tunnels, and it'd be curtains for us," Kinch disagreed. "London doesn't want us endangering this camp's operation."
We could jump him outside camp, on the way to Hammelburg," Hogan mused, then dumped the idea. "Thus putting pressure on the Underground that we just don't need. Who knows what the Gestapo might do to them?" Unbidden, the thought of Tiger entered his mind.
"I know," Carter exclaimed. "One of us could impersonate him while we're shipping him to London. Kinda like that time I imitated Adolf-"
"Blimey, Carter," the Englishman shook his head sadly. "Use yer head another way an' think. None of us 'ere look a thing like Rommel. Ruddy impossible. Lebeau's too short, an' the rest of us are too tall or fat. An' that's not even including facial features. No, ruddy impossible."
"I'm afraid Newkirk's right," Hogan said firmly. "We're gonna have to find another way."
Olsen suddenly poked his head in the door. "Schultz is coming!" he hissed.
"Thanks, buddy," Hogan herded his men back out of his room into the main barracks. Carter, Kinch, and Newkirk sat down to a game of poker; Lebeau climbed into bed and feigned sleep. Hogan went to the door and opened it to let the guard in, who instantly spotted the cigar in the American's hand. His eyes widened with longing and his mind remained on the cigar as he spoke to Hogan.
"I am here to make a surprise inspection. Colonel Klink wants nothing to go wrong today, and that includes no monkey business…Mmmm…" He caught a whiff of the cigar's fragrant scent.
"What do you mean, no monkey business, Schultzie?" Newkirk asked. "Don't you trust us anymore?" He blew a smoke ring in the German's direction.
"You're the enemy," he replied haughtily. "Why should I trust you?"
"Can you trust yer friends, other Krauts?"
He thought about it. "No…"
"There you are, Schultz, now I promise we'll behave." Hogan assured him, but Schultz only snorted.
"See? I know I can't trust you, because you never behave," he moved over to the bunks, feeling for dust, something he would never have normally done. However, Klink was in a highly agitated state today, so he was determined to leave no bed unturned. As he inspected the barracks, he gloated. "Did you know a big shot asked who I was? That hasn't happened since my friend was here." He wandered from bed to bed. "Maybe I'll get another medal."
"Yeah, first class this time, for knowing yer own name," Newkirk teased.
Hogan was starting to get fed up with the interruption. There was only one sure way to rid them of Schultz; tell the truth. "We gotta kidnap Rommel, big guy. Why don't you go play guard somewhere else? Let us do some planning." He passed the cigar back and forth in front of the tubby German.
"Jolly jokers," Schultz laughed. "There's no way…" He stopped abruptly. "There is way. Colonel Hogan, ple-e-e-ase! Tell me you're joking!"
"All right, we're joking." Hogan kept waving the cigar.
"Oh good," Schultz was relieved. "Danke, Colonel Hogan."
"No problem, Schultz. Before you go, do you happen to know where we can find some rope?"
"Barracks three, it's been storage for a… long… time…" He trailed off as he realized what Hogan wanted. "Oh no, you're joking! I don't know what you asked! I know nothing, nothing!" He shook his head vigorously, jowls flapping, and fled the room, but not before snatching the cigar that dangled under his nose. They watched him leave and then regrouped.
Carter moved up beside Hogan and asked, "So, sir, what do we do now? We're fresh out of ideas."
"Not quite, Carter. When in doubt, never forget the enemy. Sometimes they have great ideas. Will you gentlemen excuse me?" Hogan sauntered into the bright outdoors. "I'm off to meet our favorite field marshal." He knew without looking that his men were giving each other confused, resigned glances. Ideas from the enemy? I believe they think I've flipped. But really, sometimes the Germans give me the best ideas, and why not? There's nothing to lose. He was in no hurry to reach Klink's office, which gave Schultz plenty of time to see where he was going. He waddled up on the porch and placed his bulk in front of the door.
"No prisoners allowed out of the barracks," he demanded. "You can't come in here."
"Who's gonna stop me?" Hogan laughed. "You?"
"Why me? Please, Colonel Hogan. I have my orders, so be a nice fellow and go back to your barracks. I have a three day pass coming up, you know."
"Oh yeah. Hey, is that a cigar?"
Schultz was terribly confused. "You should know, you just gave it to me…"
Hogan feigned horror. "Schultz, you couldn't have, fraternizing with the prisoners? Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, unless, of course, I can't get in to see the Kommandant." Once again he was surprised at the big man's speed. "Why thank you, Schultz. Very kind of you." He turned to go inside.
"Colonel Hogan!" Schultz was getting red in the face.
"Yes?" he paused, waited for the guard to rethink his actions.
"Nothing."
He chuckled, stepped into the secretary's room. Hilda smiled cheerfully at him and motioned to the closed door of Klink's office. He blew her a kiss, glided over, and walked in. Klink froze at his desk, a drink of schnapps halfway to his open mouth. He set it down and leapt to his feet. "Hogan, how many times must I tell you to knock first!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir, were you busy? Ah, visitors! How fun!"
Erwin Rommel stood with his back to the window, watching the unfolding drama with amusement, though his face betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. Hogan met his cool gaze with a bright, innocent smile. Klink was ready to explode with anger, but Hogan only walked boldly up to Rommel and saluted smartly. The Kommandant's jaw dropped. He's never saluted me like that, or General Burkhalter, either.
"Good afternoon, sir. I'm Colonel Robert Hogan, Senior Prisoner of War here at Stalag 13." Hogan was taller than Rommel and much larger, but the German didn't seem intimidated by his close presence. He eyed Hogan for a long moment, and then returned the salute just as smartly.
"I am Feldmarshall Rommel," his English was heavily accented, but understandable. He turned to Klink and inquired, "So, your prisoners have the run of the camp?"
"Oh no, Herr Feldmarshall," Klink gasped. "I don't know what's gotten into Colonel Hogan." He shook his finger in Hogan's face, who only grinned back. That insufferable smirk; I'll wipe it off his face. Thirty days in the cooler for ruining the beginning of my week. I should have known. "This will not go unpunished!"
"Ja, it will," Rommel was also beginning to grin.
"Of course, of course, no punishment. Hogan, what do you want?"
"I just couldn't wait until supper to meet the famous Desert Fox," Hogan tried to look innocent. He addressed Rommel. "Really sir, you seem to be the only one on your side with any real skill. Too bad you're not on our side." Something in Rommel's expression changed.
Ho-o-o-gan!" Klink was furious.
"Herr Colonel, did I hear correctly to assume this Hogan will be joining us for dinner" Rommel turned his piercing gaze on the squirming Klink.
"Yes, well you see, it's a little reward for some information he gave me yesterday," Klink was getting nervous. "If you don't want-"
"On the contrary, I would enjoy the presence of an unbiased mind, for a change." He studied Hogan carefully, and for a rare minute, Hogan felt uncomfortable under German scrutiny. "You know, Colonel Hogan, you look enough like my new-" He was cut off by the arrival of Major Lang.
"Sir, I've got the-" He too stopped speaking as the prisoner turned around lazily. Hogan was shocked and rendered speechless. For all practical purposes, he was staring into a mirror.