Truth is Stranger than Fiction
Chapter 3
While close to one thousand men faced with the unenviable task of explaining to their loved ones how their time in Stalag 13 could be considered an unusual and often terrifying experience, Hogan was the star attraction at a hastily called family dinner meeting. Fortunately, Robert Hogan's wife knew about his clandestine activities, as she was also involved in the same line of work during the war. (1) His family took the news as well as he could expect. The grown-ups all started talking at once, while his young nieces and nephews at the kids' table looked bemused at the shenanigans taking place over at the large dining room table where the adults sat. Hogan looked down as his five year-old nephew, Michael, like a good soldier, crawled over to Hogan's side, and pulled at his uncle's pant-leg. The child dutifully saluted. Hogan returned it in kind, and then whispered, "report."
"Uncle Rob. I think you should have told them your secret one-at-a-time," the child said solemnly. He didn't totally understand what his uncle was doing in that jail, long before he was born, but he did realize that it was dangerous, and something that made him proud. He briefly wondered if he could bring the general back for another show-and-tell.
"Michael," Hogan's twelve-year old niece, Samantha, hissed. "Get back here."
"It's okay, sport. Stand up. The rest of you, too."
Michael stood up, as did the other children.
Hogan took his thumb and forefinger, and let out a loud whistle, silencing his large and noisy family.
"The children are behaving better than all of you."
"What do you expect, Rob?" his now-angry sister, Ruth, answered once the family quieted down. "We thought you were safe, and you could have been killed." His parents remained quiet, his mother's tears silently falling down her cheeks. Ruth approached Hogan, and stood mere inches away. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and then turned to face the rest of the family.
"I hoped you would be proud of the men under my command. They risked everything for me, and for the Allies. I wasn't concerned about myself. It was just as dangerous as flying in the B-17's, you know. And every day, I realized one small mistake could put a thousand men in front of…" Remembering the children, Hogan cut his sentence short. "You all know what I mean."
"I don't know what you mean, Uncle Rob." Michael's remark broke the ice. The five year-old was innocent; too young to know the true consequences of what could have become of his beloved uncle, and his uncle's special friends. Michael still played with the chemistry set Uncle Andrew had sent him last Christmas. His uncle Peter, who had a funny accent, had engaged the youngster with tales of kings and queens, as well as magic tricks. Uncle James had helped Michael open watches, radios and broken television sets, so that the child, as well as the older children, could see the inner workings. Uncle Brian, still in the army, had let Michael polish his medals. And finally, Uncle Louis and the children cooked up a storm in the kitchen, making a tremendous mess in the process.
"He means, Liebchen, that if he and his friends were caught making mischief, that they would have been sent to the Kommandant's office," his grandmother explained. "And received quite a licking." She looked at her son, who nodded slightly and smiled. "But they were very smart, and very brave, and they weren't caught. So, who wants dessert?"
After that effort to change the subject, the group of adults wisely calmed down. The children were sent off to play in another room, allowing the adults to continue the conversation. Slowly, Hogan explained how he had found himself unexpectedly thrown into a small, enlisted work camp, that due to its odd set-up and malleable Kommandant, invited escape, and later, the clandestine operation. He told amusing stories of balloons, baskets, and snowmen, and tempered the laughter with tales of death and destruction, being careful to not divulge certain details. By the end of the evening, Hogan's family, like all the families of the surviving POW's of Stalag 13, were proud of the ex-POW's, and comforted by the fact that their men had fought against the Nazi's throughout the entire war.
Paris
Due to the urgency of the situation, Hogan managed to catch a fairly quick flight to Europe. He stopped off in England to visit old friends, and then headed over to Paris to meet with a few of his former colleagues over dinner and wine in a safe room at the American embassy.
"More wine, General?"
"Call me Rob, Louie. You're family. Oh, that reminds me." Hogan reached into his wallet and pulled out a folded piece of paper. All the way from the states. Michael's recipe for French toast and a picture." He handed it to Louie, who unfolded the paper and studied it for a moment.
"I will have this framed," the Frenchman said, showing his pride at his young protegé's handiwork. Boswell and Garrett stole a glimpse at the paper. It made the two agents smile.
"So, our prodigal son has returned," Garrett said as he raised his glass in a toast.
"This part is easy. I always enjoy a trip to Paris."
"And your family?" Boswell asked Hogan.
"All at home going through all my old letters to see if they could decipher any signs of the truth." Hogan took a drink of the wine, sighing in contentment as the first sip slid down his throat, enveloping his body in warmth. "Nice, Louis. Thanks."
"You're welcome. So after Paris, you are heading to Germany?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I'm meeting Olsen, and then we have some people we really need to see."
Essen
Hogan paused outside the Essen police station, his uniform attracting interested looks from the passersby. Several American soldiers saluted as they walked past. His visit had not been planned in advance, but he knew the man he wanted to see was inside. He grinned before entering the building.
Olsen had accompanied the general. "What's so funny, sir?"
"Just thinking about everyone, and how they offered to ride shotgun on this visit. Like Hochstetter is going to try something in the middle of a police station."
"He won't be armed. I've seen to that," Olsen said. (2) He was in the middle of planning his return to the states, but considering he was the only member of Hogan's core group still in the military, he felt it was his duty to travel along with the general. Besides, he wanted to see Hochstetter's face. Hogan was reluctant to involve the rest of his men, insisting they should remain at home with their families.
"I'll tell you, sir. I think Klink took it all rather well."
"I think deep down he always knew. It doesn't excuse his behavior on a few occasions, especially with Roberts," Hogan recalled.
"Maybe he didn't realize Hochstetter would have the Group Captain eliminated."
"Riiighht. And I have a bridge to sell you. Klink was stupid, but not that stupid. Let's get this over with."
Hochstetter was in a bad mood. He had been in a bad mood ever since he had returned from Hammelburg, a jaunt that promised everything and delivered nothing. His afternoon spent with the American lieutenant yielded nothing; in fact, he seemed to recall that the officer was a useless drunk. Olsen appeared sullen and quiet, as if the recollection of his time spent in the prison camp had soured him on life. The two agents that Shamsky had spoken of could not be located. Hochstetter no longer had any pull with anyone other than the people in his own station. If anything, the American agents were probably somewhere in Washington, Seoul or Tokyo at this point. The one person that might have shed a light on the situation, Colonel Klink, refused to speak with him.
A commotion near the front of the squad room made the former Gestapo agent take notice.
"There's a general in the building!" exclaimed a secretary.
"What is he doing here? Get back to work, all of you, There's military all over the place!" Hochstetter screamed.
Another officer walked around to Hochstetter's desk and leaned over. "Word has it; he's here to see you."
"What would he want with…" Hochstetter's mouth hung open as he spied Robert Hogan and the American Lieutenant, Olsen, heading his way.
Hogan and Olsen stopped a few feet from the desk. "Hello Hochstetter," Hogan said, his face a portrait of both calm and slight amusement.
Hochstetter regained his composure and straightened up to his full height, which was still quite a bit shorter than Hogan's, making him feel lacking.
"Hogan," he said.
"Show some respect, Hochstetter," Olsen said.
"General Hogan. Is that better?" Hochstetter sneered.
"Have someplace we can talk?" asked Hogan, who was totally unaffected by Hochstetter's demeanor.
"There's an interrogation room down the hall."
Hogan and Olsen followed Hochstetter as the staff in the squad room watched; going back to work once they were out of sight.
"What is it you want?" Hochstetter asked with suspicion. Olsen's appearance alongside Hogan made him uncomfortable. He had never met the man until he ran into him by the fence surrounding Stalag 13, a meeting he now assumed was perhaps not a coincidence. "And what is the lieutenant doing here?"
"I always take the time to visit the men that were under my command in the prison camp," Hogan answered.
"I see. And you have developed a yearning for our chats and interrogations, and decided to pay me a visit for, how do you Americans say it? Old times' sake."
"No. I'm here in person so you can thank me."
"Thank you? For what?"
"For giving you fair warning. You see, something is being leaked to the press in the near future, and I didn't want to see you drop dead from a heart attack, or worse, lose your temper and do something you would later regret."
"I don't lose my temper," Hochstetter replied, eliciting a guffaw from Olsen, and a chuckle from Hogan.
"What is this man doing here," Hogan mimicked in a dead-on impression. "How did those rings of steel work out for you, Wolfgang?"
"I see your insolence is still your primary trait, Hogan. How did you get to be a general? I'm sure you must have angered a great deal of brass in your time."
"I was scheduled for a promotion before I got captured. Once I got everyone out of that stalag in one piece, no thanks to you, of course; it was fast-tracked."
"And what is being leaked to the press?" Hochstetter asked, steeling himself for the answer he knew was coming.
"You were smart, Hochstetter. But we were smarter. I'm Papa Bear."
And so ends this final chapter, and the unusual story of how a brave, courageous pilot, and the men that followed him, fought for the Allies under the most incredible odds; saving many lives in the process. Their mission was to "assist all escaping prisoners, cooperate with all friendly forces, and use every means to injure and harass the enemy." We had the good fortune to work together, and years later, we received permission from the Pentagon to include their story in this memoir. The Gestapo agent, whose name has been kept secret, did not, as General Hogan had feared, get violent. Instead, he kept his composure, although as Olsen would testify, the policeman's face turned beet red, and then went pale. According to Olsen, the ex-Gestapo agent stood up and said. "Thank you gentlemen for making me aware of the press release. You know the way out." He left the interrogation room, walked back to his desk, and went back to work. He never spoke of his shame to anyone, and those who knew him were terrified of ever bringing it up to him in person. I know this sounds like a Hollywood plot, but as we now know, truth is stranger than fiction.
Author acknowledgements: Stalag 13 chapters:
I would like to thank the following veterans for inviting me into their homes and freely discussing their memories of this period, some of which were not pleasant.
Andrew Carter, PhD, General Robert Hogan, James Kinchloe, Louis LeBeau, Peter Newkirk, Colonel Brian Olsen, Joe Wilson, Group Captain James Roberts, ret. Wilhelm Klink, Hans Schultz
And the following civilians: Heidi Schnitzer Olsen, Ruth Hogan Bradford, Michael Hogan Bradford, John Lehrman, Mavis Newkirk Lehrman, Dan Kinchloe, Ann Carter, Iris Kinchloe
Special thanks go to: My editor, fact-checker, and researcher, Susan Rubinstein (affectionately known as Snooky). Without her, this book would never have made it to the printers. And my former partner, Todd Boswell. Without his humor, bravery, and professionalism, I would never have survived the war, and the writing process.
Mitch Garrett
Chapter footnotes:
(1) General Hogan's wife has asked to remain anonymous. It could be one of many, or perhaps one that did not appear in the TV series. Take your pick.
(2) For a while after the war, German policemen were not allowed to carry firearms. I had trouble finding the exact information and dates. If anyone knows the exact dates, please let me know, so that I can update the chapter. Thanks. (Snooky)
The mission quote was taken from one of the episodes.