Friday the 13th, Hogan Style
Chapter 3
October 13, 1944 6 a.m.
"What is going on here?" Hochstetter bellowed, "and why wasn't I informed, earlier?"
Klink stepped forward. "I, uh…I have been trying to reach you all night, Major."
"I finally got the message, Klink." Hochstetter turned towards the two agents from Dusseldorf. "What is the meaning of this?"
"This is an execution. We have Goering's authorization." Bergmann handed Hochstetter the sheet of paper.
"This is my jurisdiction, Major Bergmann. Oh, I'm sorry. Captain now, isn't it?" Hochstetter sneered; then raised his voice. "Now, let me see if I have this straight. You found Hogan outside of camp in a civilian suit, and he hasn't been questioned."
"No, Major. There was no need. He's our prisoner, and he is to be executed as per the new policy."
Hochstetter got right into Bergmann's face. "How can you not question this man? He's the most dangerous man in Germany! He's responsible for all of the sabotage around here!"
"I'm flattered, Major, but that's really sort of impossible. I..."
"Hogan, shut up," Klink told him.
"Goering's signature," Bergmann reminded Hochstetter.
"I tell you what. I will question this man back at headquarters. When I'm finished with him, I will call, and you can bring him back, and put whatever is left of him in front of the firing squad. Is that satisfactory, Captain?"
Bergmann caved. "Yes, Major." He and Fritz stomped off to their car, while Hogan tried to stop his knees from buckling.
Klink ran over to Hochstetter. "Major, I must protest!"
"Oh, shut up, Klink." Hochstetter took hold of Hogan's arm, and before Hogan could open his mouth, shoved the colonel into the back seat of his car.
Hogan's fear immediately disappeared, and his training kicked in as he began to assess his situation. His only hope, he figured, was to somehow break out of the car; not an easy feat with his arms cuffed behind him.
"I know what you're thinking, Hogan." Hochstetter unlocked the handcuffs. "You're not getting out of this car." He slipped the cuffs through a metal bar bolted into the seat and reattached them to Hogan's wrists.
So much for that idea, Hogan realized. He was trapped. All right, fellas. No ambush. That's a dead giveaway that we have Underground contact. Okay. This situation is maybe worse than the firing squad. At least, that would have been quick. He closed his eyes, and leaned his head on the back seat.
Several kilometers outside of camp, Hogan sensed that the car had slowed down. It was almost imperceptible, but his keen pilot's senses caught the change. Curious, he opened his eyes. The road was clear; no one else was in sight, and the woods hugging the road appeared quiet. Suddenly, Hogan heard a pop, and the car began to swerve. Hochstetter cursed and brought the car to a halt.
"I can help you change the tire, Major," Hogan offered.
The agent growled back, exited the car and headed to the back. Hogan could hear the trunk open, and felt the car shake with Hochstetter's movements, as the Gestapo agent removed the tools.
Hogan again leaned back and closed his eyes. He impatiently began to wait for Hochstetter to change the tire, but was interrupted by the sound of yelling; both from Hochstetter and a small group of men. Was this an ambush? Hogan tried to twist around to see what was happening. There were more noises, which seemed to fade away. Hogan frantically tried to pull at the metal bolted into the seat; then he attempted unsuccessfully to free himself from the cuffs. And then his luck began to change, or so he thought when a face peered through the window.
It was kid, maybe seventeen or nineteen, perhaps. He pulled at the door, but it was locked.
"Go to the front!" Hogan yelled. He had no idea if the boy spoke English. However, the boy either understood, or figured it out. He opened the front door and climbed in.
"Who are you?" He said in German.
"POW," Hogan replied in English. "."
"Ah, Yank." The boy nodded. He ran off and returned a few minutes later with a key. He reached over and freed Hogan.
"Thanks, Danke," Hogan said. He opened the door, left the car and looked around. He saw no sign of Hochstetter. Is he dead? He hadn't heard a gunshot. Although he now figured the pop he had heard was the shot that took out the tire.
Two men, in their early twenties by the looks of it, came forward. They were both carrying weapons.
"Look guys," the younger one said to the others in German. "We rescued a Yank!"
"How do you know he's a Yank?" one, a blond, replied.
"He said so?"
"He could be working for them." The other one, a brunette, pointed his gun at Hogan.
"Hey," Hogan said. "Do you speak English?" He didn't know these three, and didn't want to chance speaking German. The three ignored him.
"We have to go before someone comes. What about him?" The young one said.
"He comes with." The blond said. He motioned to Hogan. "Come."
"I'm fine. Danke. I can manage." Hogan smiled, and started to walk away.
"Nein!" All three jumped in front of him. The guns began waving.
"Easy," Hogan said. He held up his hands.
"Come," the blond insisted.
Hogan followed them to a truck hidden in the woods, while the three continued to argue. Finally, the blond, who appeared to be the leader, made a decision. "He mustn't see where we're going in case he's one of them," he argued.
"Fine." The other two agreed.
"Get inside," they said as they motioned towards the back of the truck.
Hogan was becoming convinced he was dealing with amateurs, who were obviously not sent by his men. But amateurs could be trigger happy, and he obeyed.
He was quickly blindfolded, and the truck took off. Judging by the distance and the feel of the road, Hogan assumed they had headed into Hammelburg. After the truck stopped, he was then guided up three flights of stairs and into an apartment. The three rescuers sat him in a chair and removed the blindfold.
October 13, 1944 7 a.m.
"Well now," Hogan said. "Now what?"
"What is your name?"One of the boys said very loudly and very slowly, as if that would suddenly set a universal translator into motion. Hogan almost pointed to his jacket and then stopped. He smiled.
"Stupid. That's not going to make him understand," the blond said. He pointed to himself. "Josef."
"Gunther." The young one stepped forward. Oscar was the brunette.
"Robert," Hogan replied.
"Robert." The three repeated.
"Yes."
"Wait." Josef disappeared and returned a minute later with two books. A German-English phrase book, and one with Allied insignias. He showed them to his friends.
Oh for Pete's sake, Hogan thought. These guys are going to get themselves killed. If he ever got out of here, he would have to get someone to set them straight.
Gunther kept a pistol trained on Hogan, while the other two started pouring through the books and checking Hogan's insignias. They backed away, whispered amongst themselves and then came forward. "Officer?" one said in English.
"Yes, Colonel." Hogan pointed to his wings, and then to the label on his jacket.
"Colonel?" Gunther asked in a confused tone. "Hogan?"
"Um," Hogan paused. "It's like an Oberst, and it's Hogan." He corrected Gunther's pronunciation.
"Oh." Gunther turned to his cohorts. "I'll bet he's a pilot," he said. "Probably from the camp."
"How do you know he's from the camp?" Josef demanded.
"He said so. In the car. He said he was a POW. We could help get him to Allied lines," he said excitedly.
That sounds promising. Hogan then began to get a better look at the apartment. It was small, threadbare, and barely furnished. There was a room; a bedroom from the looks of it, a bathroom and a tiny kitchen, all situated off of the living area. Hogan glanced out the window, which surprisingly had curtains that weren't drawn. After several seconds, his instinct that he was in Hammelburg was confirmed; as he could make out a sign over one of the hotels located near the center of town.
The apartment was extremely neat. Perhaps this was an Underground safe house. But, the three boys were almost incompetent. Yet, they did successfully ambush a Gestapo staff car. And what happened to Hochstetter?
"Excuse me," Hogan interrupted their strategy conference, which consisted of arguing how to find the best way to get him to the Allies.
"What happened to Hochstetter?" He sighed. They didn't understand. "The driver?" He made a motion like he was driving a car. "Gestapo."
The three conferred amongst themselves. Josef came over and patted Hogan's shoulder. "The driver is okay. Good?" He pulled out the phrase book. "Woods."
"Dead?" Hogan asked.
"Okay." Josef repeated. Hogan gave up and got out of the chair. Bad idea.
"No. Sit." Josef pointed the gun. Hogan sat back down. He was getting frustrated, and a little concerned that the Gestapo would be bursting in any second. Once Hochstetter was reported missing, Hammelburg would be crawling with agents. If his body was found; well Hogan didn't want to think about it. It was too late to start speaking German. He had made his bed, and was now forced to lie in it. Perhaps he could speed communication up a bit.
"Can I see your book? Bitte." He pantomimed the opening and closing of a book; then looked up.
Josef, still holding the weapon, handed Hogan the dictionary.
"Danke," Hogan said as he started to flip through the pages. The book was a prewar dictionary, and didn't include such handy words as POW or Stalag. Oh well. Hogan decided to work with what he had, and pretended to be almost entirely ignorant of German.
"Let's see." He began to look at the pages. "Prisoner," he said in a horrendous German accent. "13."
"Ah, Luft stalag 13!" Oscar, along with Gunther, had joined Josef.
"Yes. I go out. Leave. Please. I'm okay." They seemed to know that word.
"Nein." Josef was firm. "Nein." He grabbed the book. "Not safe."
"Wait." The three boys went back to the table on the other side of the room.
Hogan noticed that one had kept his eyes on him the entire time. They began to discuss his fate, again. Quietly. Very quietly. Hogan strained to hear what they were saying.
"He wants to ... make his own ..., I think," Josef pointed out.
"If he's not who ... he is, and we let him go, ...turn us ..." Oscar stated. "I say we ... chance."
Josef was quiet. It appeared he was mulling over the situation. We should ... Otto ... hand ... let him.
Hogan heard the word Otto. Was it his contact Otto? He doubted it. Otto was a common name, and none of his contacts would be associated with kids who didn't seem to know what they were doing. He regretted not speaking German, immediately. He might have taken control of the situation right then and there. Chalk one up in the mistake column. Impatience setting in, Hogan began drumming his fingers on his thighs. He was also exhausted, and was in danger of dozing off. Finally, it looked like the three stooges had come to a consensus. Josef disappeared into the bedroom, and returned with some rope.
Oh, boy. Now that's not a good sign, Hogan thought as Josef walked over to the chair.
"Is it something I said?" Hogan cracked. He sighed, and moved his arms around to the back of the chair.
"Sorry," Josef said in English. He began to tie the rope around Hogan's hands.
"No problem," Hogan replied. Josef and Gunther then left the apartment, leaving Oscar holding the fort, so to speak. At least, Hogan now understood why they had tied him to the chair. It was the first smart thing they had done since he was rescued. Except, as he quietly tested the knot, he realized it wouldn't have passed the inspection for a Cub Scout badge. He'd be out of it in minutes. Of course, Oscar still had, what he assumed, was a loaded pistol. So, Hogan decided to sit and wait for this mysterious Otto. He assumed that's why the other two had left. He only hoped that the man spoke some English, and that the day wouldn't get even worse that it already was.