FUBAR
Chapter four
At the appointed time, Boswell and Garrett made their way down to the radio room and sat for two hours, hoping something, anything, would come through. Hogan, his opinion of the two improved, due to their actions that afternoon, kept them company.
"So," he asked, "Is this your first time back in Germany?"
"Yes," Garrett replied. "We spent some time in France after the invasion and then had some leave."
"Lucky," Kinch broke in.
"And then we worked on decoding transmissions." Boswell conveniently left out that the decoding job was a punishment.
"We've been working nonstop since the invasion," Hogan said. "Lots of planes shot down, lost parachutists, and a line of Germans who suddenly want to defect."
"We could use a ticket system, sir. Like a bakery."
Hogan laughed at Kinch's suggestion and then stopped. "Is that your signal?"
"Yes!" Elated, Boswell put down his stack of cards and quickly headed to the radio. Kinch handed him the headset.
You could hear the proverbial pin drop as the other three waited for the transmission to end. A look of disbelief on his face, Boswell put down the headset.
"Well?" Garrett asked.
"They have no idea what we're talking about. They'll look into it. Don't contact us again. We'll be in touch."
"Don't call us, we'll call you?" Garrett, now stunned, blurted out.
"Basically, that's the gist of it. Except…"
"Obviously, we weren't sent here by mistake."
"Oh, no way your people would ever make a mistake," Kinch deadpanned.
"Sergeant," Hogan gave Kinch a not so stern look.
"Can I finish?"
"Go ahead, Boswell."
"We're to stay put and wait for further orders. Next transmission to come through regular camp frequency, so at least we don't have to man this every night from 10 to midnight."
"That's a relief," Garrett said.
"Stay put?" Hogan was now exasperated. "I want my men back in my barracks."
"We can move out tomorrow, sir." Garrett offered.
"Damn tootin' you will." Hogan headed for the ladder. "But seeing that you're both fluent, I'm sure I can find something useful for you two to do, while you're still in the camp."
"I think he's starting to like us," Garrett, his afghan trailing behind him, mentioned to Boswell as they followed Hogan out of the tunnel.
Hogan and the rest of Barracks two welcomed back their long lost residents with open arms, while Boswell and Garrett slunk off to their new homes in Barracks five and eleven. After settling in, they were ordered to the tunnels for a meeting with Hogan to discuss how he could make the best possible use of their abundant amount of free time.
"Eavesdropping, for now," Hogan announced decisively.
"No field operations? Come on, Colonel. Isn't that a waste?" Both agents were pissed. They were still trapped in the stalag for an unknown amount of time, and while relations with Hogan and the rest of the prisoners that knew about the incident were a bit more polite, it was clear that they were not one big happy family.
"No. I have enough field operatives. Plus, Olsen will be back today. Too many of us out there at once and we're asking for trouble. You don't know the area as well as we do. Besides," Hogan got closer to the two and paused, "I don't have to offer any other explanations. We can use extra coverage on Klink's office bug and the phone tap. "
Garrett and Boswell were forced to go their separate ways. Boswell and his deck of cards hunkered down in the tunnel. His job: listening into Klink's less than scintillating phone conversations, while Garrett and his wool emporium manned the coffeepot, a job that was slightly less interesting than Boswell's.
Both men were relieved when it was close to lights out and they were able to talk before heading back to their new barracks.
"Klink is more of an idiot than I thought," Boswell reported. "He fawns over people far lower in rank than he is."
"Gestapo?"
"You bet. What did you get?"
"Nothing. Mundane supply calls. Although they do seem to be diverting goods. These guys are going to be dealing with shortages in the not so distant future. I reported it."
"What did he say?"
"Who?"
"Hogan."
"He said it was good intelligence and that he would pass it on," Garrett sighed. "If I don't hear something soon, I'm going to chew off my leg."
Boswell laughed. "That's a bit drastic. Tired of the knitting?"
"Frustrated."
"You two!" A guard interrupted, "Go to your barracks. Hurry up."
"Sorry," Boswell mumbled. As he crossed the compound, he truly wondered how all these men could stand it.
"Well, you two look down in the dumps." Carter came across Boswell and Garrett in the tunnels the following morning, as they checked in. "What's wrong?"
"Another day of listening in, Carter. Seems a waste," Boswell muttered under his breath.
"Oh, that's a really important job. You see, we've missed stuff before, because not enough of us can translate properly."
"Yeah, well."
Carter didn't seem to notice Garrett's interruption. He just kept prattling on.
"And that's with Olsen's German lessons. Some people just don't have a knack for languages, you see. Strange, huh? I did. My sister, on the other hand, couldn't tell a French verb from a noun and…" Carter stopped talking and stared at Boswell and Garrett, whose mouths were hanging open in amazement. "Oh, sorry. It's not about me. You're feeling underutilized." Carter's face lit up. "You can help me check detonators."
"We're in espionage, not demolition," Boswell said sullenly. Carter's face fell.
"I can teach you!"
"Can't. I have to go up and wait for the little red light on the percolator to go off." Boswell left while the going was good.
"I have to monitor the phone," Garrett explained.
"No problem," Carter was, as usual, persistent. "I can bring them over."
"Great." Garrett sighed and took his spot by the switchboard.
Another day and night went by with no word from England. Hogan and his band of rescuers were in severe danger of becoming overworked, as the frequent air raids continued to interrupt their beauty sleep. The tunnel now resembled Grand Central Station. Teams continued to venture out, both during the day and night, to continue mapping, planning and demolishing. Tempers began to get short, as this frantic pace continued.
"Klink wants me at dinner." Hogan slammed the door behind him in frustration. "I don't have the time for this nonsense."
"Any particular reason, Colonel?" Kinch was concerned. Normally a dinner invitation meant a visiting big-whig and possibly something useful to steal. Hogan was usually an enthusiastic dinner guest.
"Too much going on. More raids planned. It's just an old friend of Klink's. No one important."
"Didn't know he still had any friends left, sir," Newkirk quipped.
Normally Hogan would have smiled, but today he just wasn't in the mood.
"Why don't we make use of Garrett and Boswell, Colonel?" Kinch suggested. "They're chomping at the bit to get out, and we are shorthanded. Oh, and if you go, we could get that bug installed."
Hogan mulled over the suggestion. He really could use the extra men, although that's not what he told the two agents. He just didn't feel comfortable sending them out. He didn't trust them. That was it. He didn't want to have to worry about two untrained men going out. Hogan stopped thinking for a moment and closed his eyes.
"Colonel?" Kinch snapped him back to attention, "I think after dinner you should stay in and get some rest, sir."
"Garrett and Boswell can go out. Pair both of them with someone experienced. And yes, Kinch. I'll stay in."
**********
Boswell was seated in his usual spot. But tonight, he was monitoring the newly placed bug set up in Klink's quarters.
Hogan arrived for the dinner and quickly placed the receiver in an inconspicuous location. The wiring had been installed during a recent weekend trip Klink had taken out of town.
Klink introduced him to his friend, a Wehrmacht officer. "Major Becker, this is my Senior POW Officer, Colonel Robert Hogan."
Becker quickly glanced at Hogan's medals. "Colonel, I see POW life is treating you reasonably well. You look fairly healthy. "
Klink broke in before Hogan's mouth would get the American in trouble. "Oh, I follow the Geneva Convention. No one is abused. And the prisoners get the appropriate amount of rations and of course, their Red Cross packages. Isn't that right, Hogan?"
Hogan gave Klink a dirty look. "When the guards don't steal them." He then smiled at Becker.
"I see you have a sense of humor. So, inform me of how you managed to get a dress uniform sent to the camp. Unless you jumped in that way?" Becker chuckled.
"I think I'll sit down," Hogan replied.
**************
"How is it going?" Kinch poked his head in to check on the agent.
"So far, so good. No crackling," Boswell reported. "This officer; ever hear of him?"
"Nope. Never. Klink never mentioned him. Last minute trip through the area, I suppose. The colonel is okay?"
"He sounds bored. Why does Klink invite him to these things anyway?" The dinner invitations were one of Hogan's activities that had first aroused the suspicion of Boswell's outfit.
"He realizes the colonel makes him look good, I guess," Kinch laughed. Boswell grinned. "Keep listening for a while, and remember we're heading out at 2300."
That was the scheduled time for tonight's air raid. Boswell was relieved that he and Garrett were getting the go ahead, but he and Garrett had decided that for safety reasons, only one of them would go out.
Hogan was indeed bored, and tired. Becker was as ingratiating a dinner companion as the Kommandant. In other words, dull and self-important.
"It must be a relief for you, Colonel, to be able to dine with your superiors, on occasion. A change in pace and a better variety of food certainly increases your morale," Becker stated.
"What would increase morale, Major, would be better food for the rest of the men in camp," Hogan replied sharply. He glared at the major, while Klink laughed nervously. The major could not keep eye contact, and he turned his attention to his friend.
"I thought you said your Senior POW officer was cowed, Wilhelm?"
Hogan held back a laugh. "Well, it is true, Major Becker, that we haven't been able to figure the Kommandant out. Try to escape and," he snapped his fingers, "Caught. All the time." Hogan shook his head; then stabbed at his salad.
Klink looked gratified. "I do have the respect of all the prisoners, Jurgen."
"That's very good." The major switched the tone of the conversation and the two friends began to reminisce about their past time together, a subject that wore down Hogan's resolve to stay awake.
The colonel found his attention beginning to wander. He began to count the wine stains on the tablecloth, make patterns with the vegetable shavings, and attempted to read the bottom of the china to see where it was made. He glanced at the bookcase, and determined that his vision was still 20/20 by reading the spines of the books on the middle shelf. Finally, after he had all he could take of the two officer's supercilious tales of grandeur, he dipped his middle finger in his water glass, and began to slowly run it along the rim. After several seconds, a high C erupted from the crystal, and the colonel grinned. The music, if you could call it that, interrupted the Germans' conversation and they stared at the now-entertained American officer.
"Colonel Hogan!" Klink shouted. "What are you doing?"
Hogan pretended to be stunned. "Thought a little musical interlude would liven up the evening," he answered.
"Mmmph!" Klink reached over and removed Hogan's water glass. "How juvenile. Really!"
Boswell, hearing all of this, began to laugh. But the conversation soon returned to normal and the agent was again forced to listen to more boring dinner talk, until one interesting thing occurred. Klink dismissed Schultz at dessert, but then the conversation started again and appeared fairly normal. Boswell yawned and held his head in one hand. Then his attention became completely focused as he realized Hogan had not said a word for several minutes.
"Come on," he urged, "Come on. Say something."
Abruptly the conversation switched to German.
"Wait a moment. There," Becker said; then repeated, "There." The sound of a chair moving could be heard.
"Yes. It worked," Klink replied.
"Holy…" Boswell kicked over the chair in his haste to get out of the room.
"What's up?" Mills asked, "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"We've got a big problem."
"Did the bug crap out?" Olsen asked.
"No. Something's wrong. Get everyone up here, now!" Boswell barked and then ran back to the office. Goldman ran to the tunnel entrance and scurried down.