F U B A R
Chapter three
Once Hogan had everyone's attention, he began his briefing. "Intelligence reports that the Germans are massing troops along the Siegfried line. Meanwhile, we have a supply shortage. Our orders are to harass troops and supplies heading that way, and damage infrastructure."
"What are they planning to do to break the line, Colonel?" Kinch asked.
"Don't know. It's secret. But, this is what we're going to do. Increase daytime and nighttime reconnaissance. Pass the info to London so they can arrange for air strikes to destroy roads and convoys. Coordinate with Underground cells from here to Dusseldorf. And keep our transit center open. The Germans will start getting desperate, which means more anti-aircraft fire."
"Once the Allies cross over the Rhine, we could be out of 'ere by Christmas," Newkirk was being uncharacteristically optimistic.
"We can only hope," Hogan replied.
The following night, Operation Siegfried, as Hogan called it, went into motion. Teams of two men each would borrow a truck from the motor pool every night and go as far as they could to conduct reconnaissance, barely making it back in time for morning roll call. They would rest the next day, while the daytime teams would go out in the short amount of time the prisoners had. Information was then passed on to London. Troop movements, supply convoys and the redeployment of guns and tanks were noted. Underground cells began nuisance operations; destroying parts of roads and bridges, tunnels, mining railroad tracks and vandalizing machinery and trucks. London continued to order bombings and Stalag 13 continued to pick up stranded flyers, a smattering of escapees and, not surprisingly, deserter processing was picking up.
"It's going to be tougher to get these people out if the front gets too close, or keeps going back and forth." Hogan had been working on this problem with local Underground leaders for several weeks. They had been forced to map out a more northerly route to the water. "This is longer, but for now, safer." He and Otto, an Underground contact, were meeting in the tunnels.
"I'll pass the information along, Colonel." Otto stopped talking as Garrett and Boswell, for the 13th night in a row, came down at the usual time to monitor the radio for their transmission.
"New friends of yours, Colonel?"
"They're okay." Hogan pulled Otto into a corner and whispered into his ear.
"Those are the two?" Otto had been involved in the search for Hogan and had heard the entire story.
"Yes," Hogan replied. "Stuck here on some unknown mission."
"As privates?" Otto chuckled.
"Yep, it's been a thrill," Hogan laughed.
"We can hear you," Boswell said in an annoyed tone. "Just as happy to be here as you are to have us," he complained.
"This is our lucky night, Todd," Garrett cracked his knuckles, "I can feel it. Hey, Colonel Hogan, if we're still here tomorrow, can we get out? Maybe go into town? "
"No." Hogan turned back to Otto.
"I can count tanks as well as the next guy. I know my directions. You're wasting talent!" Boswell argued to no avail.
"Nope. I've got everyone on the main team, plus anyone else in camp that speaks German, out. Too many. Sorry." Hogan slapped Boswell on the back. Hogan did give Boswell and Garrett the authority to listen for a signal on their own. "Happy listening."
"Yeah, right." Garrett settled himself in his chair, plopped his feet on the table, and removed a crochet hook and some wool from his pocket. "What you think of this color?" he asked his partner.
Boswell took a peek. "What's it for?"
"Afghan."
"Is that all they had? Green?"
"It was that, or black." Garrett passed a loop onto the hook.
"Well, at least it's not olive drab. Hold it!" Boswell held up his hand. "I hear something." Both men tweaked some knobs and listened intently.
"Bob Hope. You sure it's the right frequency?" Garrett asked.
"I'm sure. Bing Crosby. Oh for crying out loud! I can't take this anymore." Boswell pounded the table with his fist, startling Garrett.
"Hey, my wool slipped off! You know you need to calm down." Garrett waited for his partner to get quiet. "Something's not right."
"Ya think?" Was Boswell's response.
"We should call. It's been two weeks. Maybe they gave us the incorrect frequency, or the mission's been scrapped."
Boswell was desperate, but he was no dummy. "I'm with you. But… But… With what's going on, the call could get traced. We'll need to get the message out another way."
"Courier? Or," Garrett snapped his fingers, "One of Hogan's contacts. They may have a radio that can be moved."
"That's a good idea," Boswell agreed. He gazed over into the section of the tunnel where Hogan was busy preparing teams and discussing plans.
"Let's ask him tomorrow, when he's not busy." Garrett wouldn't admit it, but he was a little wary of the colonel. He never fully believed Hogan had forgiven him and his partner for what they put him through. Even if it wasn't totally their fault.
"Or, we can send out smoke signals," Boswell said an exasperated voice. "What are you waiting for?"
"I don't know. He's awfully busy, and…"
Boswell looked at his partner as if the man had suddenly turned into an alien. "You're the one who said we should call," he said slowly. "What is wrong with you? Let's go." He reached over and pulled Garrett up. "Wait a minute. You're afraid of him, aren't you? I think you've spent too much time as a private. It's gone to your head."
"I'm not afraid! Well, maybe just a little, after what we did."
"That's water under the bridge. He had his fun with us when we came in. Let's go." This time, Boswell meant it.
Garrett nodded. "All right. I'm with you." They moved further down into the tunnel and came upon Hogan and a group of men they didn't recognize.
"You want to do what?" Hogan asked a few minutes later. "I thought your orders said no contact."
"Yes, Colonel. But it's been two weeks. This is our secret mission," Boswell said firmly. "Something's not right. This is highly unorthodox, to have us wait this long."
Hogan nodded. "I see your point. Listen, I can't do anything about it tonight, but by tomorrow night, I should have something set up."
"That's fair, Colonel. Thanks. See," Boswell nudged his partner, "That was easy."
"We'll see," Garrett murmured.
True to his word, Hogan set off the next morning to make arrangements. He called the two spies into his office and sat them down. "This is what we'll do. I'll have one of the Underground contacts send out a message to one of my people in London. They'll send out feelers to your people. "
"That's great," Boswell said. "Now that both sides are talking to each other."
Garrett started laughing.
"Not funny, Garrett." Hogan gave the agent a dirty look.
"Sorry, sir."
Hogan continued. "I don't want to risk sending it out of here. Just the mention of you two is too risky. So, is that satisfactory?"
The two nodded.
"Hopefully, they'll send something back on your signal at the specified time." Now Hogan stood up. "I'm off. I have a meeting in town with another one of your colleagues. That's first."
"Of the female persuasion?" Garrett smiled. "I can smell the aftershave."
Hogan shrugged. "Stay here. Keep busy."
"Yeah, the usual." Garrett picked up his crochet hook.
Hogan pointed to Boswell. "Find a hobby," he ordered. He then disappeared through the tunnel bunk entrance.
"There's a pottery class tonight in the rec hall." Garrett was now getting so good at his knitting and crocheting, he didn't even have to look.
"Oh, shut up!" Boswell, now grumbling under his breath, flopped on his bunk and settled in for a nap.
The two spies were still alone in the barracks when Schultz barged in. By now, they were used to the sergeant and the intrusion barely registered.
"Achtung."
"Hello, Schultz." Boswell rolled over and sat up.
"Where's Colonel Hogan?"
"Not sure." Boswell said. "He said something about meeting with…"
"The medic," Garrett quickly said, "To ask about supplies. Try the infirmary."
"The infirmary." Schultz gave the two a suspicious look and left. Thirty minutes later, he returned.
"Did you find him, Schultz?" Garrett asked.
"No. Sergeant Wilson sent me to Barracks 12. They sent me to the recreation hall. The prisoners there sent me to the office. The Kommandant has not seen him, but Hilda told me he stopped by; then left to go to Barracks 3."
Boswell looked up. "Can't help you then, Schultz. Have you asked Carter or LeBeau?"
"I can't find Carter, LeBeau, Kinch, Newkirk, or Olsen." Schultz was wrinkling his brow and counting on his fingers. "Or anyone else from here, as a matter of fact, except you two troublemakers."
Boswell walked up to the sergeant. "That's insulting. We've been model prisoners."
"Angels," Garrett added. "Like my Afghan?"
"Very nice."
"I'm sure they'll be back soon. Can we take a message?" Boswell attempted to steer the sergeant towards the door.
"Yes. It's important. Very important," Schultz emphasized the word, 'very'. "There'll be a surprise barracks inspection this afternoon at 3:00. A friend of the big shot is coming. He's an even bigger big shot, than our big shot, so everyone better be here."
"Don't worry. They'll be here, Schultz, not a problem." Boswell ushered him out.
"Holy smokes," Garrett ignored his dropped stitch and dumped his afghan on the floor, "What do we do?" He looked at his watch; then smacked his head. "Kinch and Baker are down there."
Both agents scrambled into the tunnel. The two radiomen looked up when the two spies flew down the ladder.
"Thought your orders were to stay upstairs," Kinch said calmly.
"Yeah, well, we did, and you're lucky we were there," Boswell, who was out a breath, blurted out. "Schultz came by, looking for the colonel, and we sent him on a wild goose chase."
"Why? I mean, what did he need the colonel for?" Baker asked.
"Surprise barracks inspection at 3:00." Garrett stated.
That got the attention of the two sergeants.
"We've got to pull everyone back." Kinch grabbed the map. "You," he pointed to Garrett, "Go to Barracks 9. Find Foster. If he's not inside, get everyone else to look for him. You," he pointed at Boswell, "Barracks 17. Greenberg. Same thing. They're our backup German speakers. Go."
Boswell and Garrett ran. Moments later, Foster and Greenberg had left the tunnels, and were heading towards the last known points where Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk had parked themselves that morning to conduct reconnaissance. Foster went one way, while Greenberg headed in the other direction, but Hogan was a more serious problem. He was supposed to be meeting his contact smack in the middle of Hammelburg.
"What is everyone's position?" Boswell demanded, his training now kicking in.
"Newkirk and LeBeau are here, and Carter is over here. They'll make it back in time, as long as they haven't changed positions. But Colonel Hogan is in town. I couldn't send those two that far by themselves."
"What about Olsen?" Garrett wondered. The sergeant had switched with a downed airman and had left camp several nights ago, and wasn't due back for two days.
"He's in Dusseldorf. Can you believe it?" Kinch shook his head. "With the vet."
"We'll find Hogan. Tell us where he is."
"Boswell, your orders were to shut up and stay put," Kinch insisted.
"Screw the orders," Garrett retorted. "We can pass as Germans. Get us some clothes and we can be out of here in 2 minutes."
Kinch relented. Hogan was disguised as an SS officer, so Kinch had two other men in the barracks outfit Garrett and Boswell as SS, as well. Armed with the correct address, the two hopped into the truck Kinch borrowed from the motor pool and headed out.
Hogan and his contact were exchanging vital information back and forth, over drinks in a busy Hofbrau, located just off the town square. Audrey St. Lawrence was married to an SS general, but worked for Allied intelligence, and had worked with Hogan previously. Today, Hogan and Audrey appeared to the casual observer, to be old friends.
"Our supply lines are delayed," Hogan explained in between sips of beer. "We need to do everything we can to harass troops heading to the line."
Audrey passed a paper over to the colonel. "Bridges, partially undefended, or undermanned."
Hogan nodded. "Last time you and I talked he was anticipating a colder than normal winter," Hogan began talking at a normal decibel level as more people strode by.
"He does like to dabble in meteorology," she laughed. "But as they say, the weather 's the weather."
"Another drink?" Hogan turned to call over the waiter and froze.
Garrett and Boswell approached the table.
Hogan stayed in character. "Can I be of assistance, Major?"
"Actually, yes. We apologize for the intrusion, Fraulein.Garrett nodded at Audrey; then looked back at Hogan. "But your unit commander is requesting you return immediately. He glanced at Audrey once more. My apologies."
"You are needed elsewhere." Audrey obviously understood that these were two of Hogan's men.
Hogan, Boswell and Garrett silently made their way through the crowded hall. Once outside, Hogan, his eyes flashing, glared at the two. "What happened? You better have a good reason for leaving camp."
"Everyone needed to be pulled back, Colonel. We got word of a surprise inspection. Kinch sent Foster and Greenberg out to pull Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau back. He agreed to send us to town. We have a truck, sir."
Now relieved that no was hurt, dead, or captured, Hogan relaxed. "Fine." He walked with Boswell and Garrett to the truck. "Good job, guys," he said as he climbed in. "I did pass your information along. Hopefully, we'll hear something tonight."
Fortunately for the men in Barracks two, everyone returned in time to report for the inspection. Schultz ignored Olsen's replacement and announced to Klink, who was overjoyed to show off his star prisoner and his men to his friend, that everyone was present and accounted for. The other residents had straightened up the barracks while awaiting everyone's return.
Schultz caught Boswell's eye. Boswell winked at the sergeant, who smiled back.