Homeward Bound

The painting had finally been finished and all the goodbyes had been said. Karl finished loading the car and slipped behind the wheel. He was eager to return to camp. He needed the routine of duty to get his mind off of the events of the last couple of weeks. As he drove them out of the city, almost on cue, Schultz and LeBeau started their bickering with LeBeau threatening to never make crepes for Schultz again and Schultz threatening never to smuggle coffee in for him again. Oberst Hogan sat reticent in the passenger's seat, reluctant to referee the two squabbling children in the backseat. Karl was glad no one was paying any attention to him. That gave him the time to sort things out in his mind.

As the hours wore on, the bickering grew less until stillness blanketed the car. They passed through the check points with no trouble and as it started to rain, the children grew tired and finally fell asleep.

"You've been awful quiet Langenscheidt."

The sound of Hogan's unexpected voice startled Karl. "I could say the same for you Oberst."

"I suppose," Hogan said, pausing for a moment. "I don't like to be away from camp too long. Things can go wrong too easily."

"Afraid of what might happen without you there to cluck over the little chicks?"

Hogan gave a soft laugh. "Yeah, I guess so. Now it's your turn, why so quiet? Still thinking about those Jewish families?"

Karl didn't respond except for a small shrug of his shoulders.

"You couldn't have saved them, you know."

"You would have found a way."

"While I've gotten everyone thinking I'm omnipotent, the truth is I'm not. Not with all my plotting and skullduggery could I have saved them and neither could you. You're not doing yourself or anyone else any good with this self-flagellation you're engaging in."

"Perhaps it just hit too close to home," Karl replied in a whisper.

"You have Jewish friends?"

"No but I know someone who could easily be taken away like those people. One day she is here and the next, gone, forever and ever."

Hogan raised an eyebrow at the Gefreiter. "Someone you left behind?"

"Yes but not what you think."

"Hmm, what to talk about it?"

"No."

"Fair enough."

The conversation lagged for a few moments before Karl began to speak again.

"Oberst, can I tell you something and you not be angry with me?"

"Depends Langenscheidt, what do you want to tell me?"

"This plan of yours, Paris, the painting, it will not work."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Karl chewed his bottom lip as his hands nervously opened and closed around the steering wheel. He gave a Hogan a quick apprehensive glance. Hogan, on the other hand, seemed sangfroid; patiently waited for him to continue. Karl debated if he should continue or speak his mind. His eyes darted over to Hogan again and he decided speak before his courage completely left him.

"I don't know what this trip was about. I know the painting was just the excuse and if you don't mind, I'd really rather not know what you and the little one have been up to." Karl gave Hogan another quick look before continuing. "I do know that your painting will not pass inspection. It will fool the Kommandant and maybe, just maybe, the General but anyone with any knowledge of art will not be so taken in."

"What do you mean?"

"Forging a painting is more than just copying the picture, Oberst. There are a lot of things to consider when authenticating a painting. You have the brush work. Each painter has a unique way of painting. It's like a fingerprint. Then you have the canvas. A new canvas, such as the one that Monsieur Verlaine used is sure to be detected. Then you have the problem with the paints."

"The paints?"

Most of the artists of old mixed their own paints. Some had some strange mixtures like incorporating blood or rust into the paints. I doubt Göring would go so far to authenticate the painting but the other factors will be a dead giveaway. If he doesn't catch it, you can believe someone else will. And all roads lead back to…."

"Stalag 13," replied Hogan. "And our illustrious Kommandant wouldn't withstand five minutes of intense questioning. Why are you telling me this Langenscheidt?"

"My head is on the chopping block too. While I was under orders, do you really think the Gestapo will care?"

"No, I don't suppose they will. How did you get so knowledgeable about art?" asked Hogan.

Karl paused a moment before answering. "We all have our passions, Oberst. You love to fly. You love to command. It is a part of who you are. The two cannot be divorced from you without destroying the man. On the other hand, I'm not a man of action. I love books and knowledge. I love passing them on to people who are just as eager to learn. You love the military and will continue to be active in it after the war. I can't wait to take off this uniform and never have to wear it again. I want to go back the life I had before. That is the life I love, not this one. In my old life I excelled at my vocation. In this life I just want to get by without calling too much attention to myself. I just want to survive."

"I think I understand," Hogan said lapsing into a quiet meditation.

Karl's heart pounded in his chest. He feared he had said too much, been too honest, and now had lost any respect the Oberst might have had for him. He was unsure why this was so important to him. All he did know was his overwhelming desire for Hogan to see him in the best light possible. By admitting he hated being a solider and the military life, he feared he had offended Hogan and he now thought less of him. The idea made his chest ache and he struggled to understand why.

They arrived safely back at Stalag 13 without incident. Karl unpacked the staff car and checked it back into the motor pool. He walked back to the enlisted barracks. If he was lucky, he could get a couple hours of sleep before his next duty rotation. Shuffling to his bed, he set his rucksack down, took off his boots and tunic and settled down for a much needed nap.

He had barely closed his eyes when he felt someone poking him. Opening one eye he saw Schultz standing over him.

"Have I overslept and am late for duty?" he asked puzzled over the intrusion.

"No, the Kommandant wants to see you," replied Schultz.

"Why?"

"He did not tell me. He doesn't tell me anything. He said 'get Langenscheidt and bring him to me.' That is all I know."

"I am in trouble?" asked Karl as he hurriedly put back on his clothes.

"Who knows with Mister Big Shot," Schultz said with a dismissive shrug.

Karl practically ran all the way to the Kommandantur. Klink's secretary was not at her desk, just the red-headed duty Feldwebel, Hermann Fels.

"Go right in," Fels said not looking up from his typing.

Nervously, Karl gave a light tap on the door before opening it and presenting himself to the Kommandant.

"At ease Langenscheidt," replied Klink looking up from his paperwork and returning the salute. "It has come to my attention that there were some shenanigans with Hogan and the Cockroach.

"Sir?"

"Now don't try and deny it. Colonel Hogan made a confession and threw himself on my mercy. So I know the whole story."

"Story?" Karl could feel his undershirt dampen as he tried to maintain his composure.

"Yes," Klink said getting up from his chair and walking around to where Karl was standing. "He told me that he and LeBeau tried to bribe you into letting them escape but you refused. Pushed to their limits they attempted their escape anyway and you caught them red-handed. Hogan said they never had a chance with you around. He requested that I transfer you to another duty station but of course I refused. I need good men like you here to make Stalag 13 the model prison camp that it is. And to show my appreciation, I am restoring you to your former rank."

Karl blinked at him several times; unsure if what he was hearing was correct. "My rank?"

"I know you are overwhelmed. The great ones, like me, are always modest in their achievements. Believe me when I tell you this, you are an essential component of this camp. Dismissed"

In shock Karl left the Kommandantur only to spy Hogan standing against the wall of Barracks 2. He pulled his cap down to its regulation position, folded his arms around himself and gave Karl an enigmatic smile. Karl stood there momentarily stunned. He then gave Hogan a small nod of his head. Hogan then pushed himself away from the wall and disappeared into the barrack.

Americans, who can understand them? Karl shook his head in wonderment and with a small smile, set off to report for duty.