Chapter 31
Fuchs' eyes narrowed as he heard van Kueren's words. He knew the Gestapo Captain was planning to assist someone with murdering Hogan, but he was surprised at just how little time there was to do something to stop it. "What are you planning, van Kueren?" Fuchs asked himself. "And how does Sergeant Carter fit into your plan?" As he sipped his coffee, he watched van Kueren place the package on the table beside him, and pick up the menu as a waitress approached carrying a pitcher of beer on a tray along with a stein. She placed both on the table. Van Kueren indicated from the menu what he wanted for dinner. The waitress wrote it down before leaving to place his order. The Captain then poured beer into his stein, checked his watch, then let his eyes scan the room. A short time later, the waitress returned with his dinner of curry-wurst. As he began eating, he noticed from the corner of his eye, the front door opening; it was Gower wearing his gray Luftwaffe guard uniform and outer coat.(1)
Fuchs' eyes narrowed as he noticed the man. Gower! What is he doing here? He remembered the man had transferred to Hammelburg Gestapo from Berlin with van Kueren, and realized he hadn't see him for awhile. But why was he wearing the uniform of a Luftwaffe Corporal? Fuchs felt a knot beginning to form in his stomach. This could not be good. His gut was telling him as Gower was dressed that way could only mean one thing; he was posing as a guard at Stalag 13. As he continued watching, Gower hung up his outer coat on a hook near the door. Karl the bartender approached him with a smile on his face.
"Excuse me, sir, but are you meeting a Captain van Kueren here?" he asked.
Gower looked at Karl suspiciously but noticed the Gestapo Captain waving to him. "That is all right. I see him. Danke."
"Yes, sir." Karl watched the man walk away with disdain and a glare on his face.
Van Kueren, meanwhile, was enjoying his dinner. The Hofbrau, in his opinion, made the finest curry-wurst. He watched as Gower sat down across from him; the aroma of the curry-wurst covered with tomato sauce assailing his nostrils, but Gower knew he didn't have time to waste. Both men simply looked at each other as a waitress brought over a menu along with a pitcher of ice water and a glass; she sat them down in front of Gower before laying the menu on the edge of the table. She promised she'd be back to take his order.
"You should really try the curry-wurst, Hans," van Kueren advised. "It's delicious." He stuffed another piece of meat in his mouth. After swallowing, he sipped some of his beer. He nodded with his head toward the package. "What you asked for is in that package."
Gower picked up the package and examined it carefully. "Our friend will be grateful," he added.
"This better work," van Kueren said. "From what you've told me, Hogan sounds to be getting too close to ruining everything we have worked towards."
"Don't worry. I made sure our friend understands Hogan's death must remain between the three of us."
And me, Fuchs thought to himself with a smirk.
Gower smirked. "If we can't convince Major Hochstetter Hogan had to die, going to the Russian front with be a blessing compared to what he will do to us."
"Are you sure Hogan has no idea that our friend Captain Leonard Wylie was with his old bomber crew?"
Before Gower could answer, the waitress came to their table ready to take Gower's order. The Corporal indicated he wasn't hungry, but asked for a glass of beer. The waitress nodded and walked away. Watching her leave, Gower then turned his attention back to van Kueren. "I don't think so. But I can tell it's driving him crazy that he can't figure it out." He chuckled. "But then, the plastic surgery performed on Wylie made recognizing the man impossible. Still, it surprises me that Hogan can't recognize one of his former bomber crew members from his attitude." They both paused with their conversation again as the waitress returned and sat a stein of beer in front of Gower, took the menu, and walked away leaving the two men alone. Van Kueren noticed Gower rubbing his chin.
"Something troubling you, Hans?"
"Captain Wylie is an American, ja? That being said, I've always been curious as to why this American would want to help the Gestapo bring down Hogan. Major Hochstetter refused to tell me anything other than what he was going to do and my part in it."
Van Kueren signed as he chewed his food. The Major had explained everything to him, and now he wondered if he should disclose that same information to his friend. By the time he swallowed his food, he had reached a decision.
"What I am going to tell you, Hans, stays between us. You must promise me you will not discuss it with anybody, not even Wylie. If the Major ever found out I told you it could be a problem for both of us."
"You have my word," Gower said softly leaning forward.
"Major Hochstetter explained everything to me when I arrived in Hammelburg. Captain Wylie was shot down about a year-and-a-half ago, and after he bailed out was captured almost immediately by a Gestapo patrol. Major Hochstetter interrogated Wylie the entire time, but the only information he could get from him was an apparent dislike for this Colonel Hogan. But prior to Wylie's last bombing mission, he had been in contact with the German underground while in London, and had not only bought into the Nazi propaganda, but became a Nazi sympathizer as well. He claimed he wanted to aid the Fatherland in winning the war anyway he could by supplying what information he could regarding Allied military strengths and the Major by helping him bring down Hogan. I think that is when this plan began to form in the Major's mind."
"I assume Hochstetter didn't simply buy into what this American had to say simply because the man dangled Hogan in front of him. We both know how obsessed he is with this Colonel."
"I know. The Major informed me he had spoken to one of his superiors in Berlin, and was ordered to test this man and see if he was on the level before deciding whether he could be trusted. They moved him to Berlin immediately."
Gower chuckled. "Obviously he must have proven himself to Hochstetter and Berlin," he said.
"He did. With the information he had given, the Third Reich was able to defeat the Allies in several confrontations. It was then the Major again phoned his superiors in Berlin, and after speaking with Field Marshal Gunter, was given permission to implement his plan to expose Hogan and his operation. So, Wylie was given plastic surgery to conceal his identity from Hogan. It took eight-to-ten months for him to fully recover from the surgery, and during that time, he learned all about Hogan since he's been at Stalag 13, and read everything the Major had on him since Hogan was a prisoner before we captured Wylie."
Fuchs' eyes narrowed. He had always wondered what happened to Captain Wylie. He had never seen the man again after he spent a couple of days in Hammelburg Gestapo custody, and all Major Hochstetter would tell him was that Berlin had wanted him sent to them for more intense interrogation, and that as much as he hated to because he might have helped expose Hogan, he was forced to follow orders and send him; and that they probably wouldn't see him again. Fuchs appeared seemingly to accept his boss's explanation, but deep down, his gut was telling him something didn't quite ring true.
"Anyway, two weeks before Wylie was due to return to Hammelburg, Major Hochstetter faked illness so he could be ordered to take some sick time. This would protect him from being suspected of having any involvement from anybody here in Hammelburg. He was even ordered by his superiors not to tell Fuchs anything which he didn't like but obeyed. After all, the fewer people who knew the less likelihood of a slip-up. Berlin then sent you and I here; you were assigned to Stalag 13 in order to help our friend and be an intermediary between him and me. And me? I was to make sure things went according to the Major's plans and report to him. But as killing Hogan is not part of the plan, we must be careful. Do you have any idea how Wylie is going to get this Sergeant Carter to shoot and kill Hogan?"
Gower shook his head. "Not exactly. But since he has Carter believing he is the real Colonel Hogan, and that the real Hogan is a phony, it shouldn't be too hard. From what he's told me, I think he plans on giving Sergeant Carter an option."
"Option?" van Kueren raise both eyebrows. "What kind of option?"
Gower shrugged. "I'm not really sure. But if I had to venture a guess, he will have Carter either shoot Hogan dead, or watch one of his friends die. So, Sergeant Carter will have to decide what to do."
Van Kueren shook his head and took a drink of beer. "And what is to stop this Sergeant Carter from turning the gun on himself instead of shooting Colonel Hogan? Is Captain Wylie prepared for that possibility as well?"
"I think so. From what I understand, should that happen, he will claim to that idiot Klink that Hogan is the actual phony, pulled a gun on him, and tried to kill him. And that he was forced to kill him in self-defense. Regardless, by Friday before lights out, Hogan will be dead." He watched as van Kueren stuffed the last bite of food into his mouth, then wipe his mouth with a napkin. He noticed Gower checking his watch; it was now 2000 hours.
"Something wrong?" the Captain asked.
"Nein. But I must leave soon. I promised Klink I would be back at 2100 hours exactly. Captain, something is still troubling me about Captain Wylie."
"And what would that be?"
"Why would an Allied soldier become involved with the Third Reich? Didn't that appear suspicious to the Major at all?"
Van Kueren shrugged. "I'm sure it did. What little I know was that while in London, Captain Wylie became involved with a German girl who just happened to be a member of the German underground. So I suppose she introduced him to our way of life."
Gower checked his watch again. "I must leave now. Enjoy your evening Captain. Auf Wiedersehen. Heil Hitler." Grabbing his package, the Corporal got to his feet and exited, stopping long enough to don his outer coat before leaving the Hofbrau.
Fuchs watched him leave, then his blue eyes met those of Karl who had also been watching. The Gestapo Captain nodded it was time for the diversion. He noticed Karl nod discreetly in return. The bartender then shifted his eyes to a couple seated at the closest table to van Kueren and again discreetly nodded; the couple responded the same way. Then, without warning, the woman bolted to her feet and slapped the face of her somewhat inebriated dinner companion across the face with a loud 'thwack'. The man staggered to his feet and roughly seized the woman's wrist as she drew back her arm to slap him again and twisted it until she yelped in pain.
Van Kueren, spotting the disturbance, immediately got to his feet. Approaching the couple, he roughly seized the wrist of the hand gripping the woman's wrist, and glared at the man with cold, hard eyes. "I suggest you release the lady," he ordered icily. The man looked him up and down. Taking in the Gestapo uniform, he swallowed hard at the sight and quickly released his companion's wrist. He then slowly returned to his seat with van Kueren still holding onto his wrist. The Gestapo officer's eyes looked at the woman. "Are you injured, Fraulein?" he asked kindly.
The woman, a blond, rubbed her wrist while glaring at her companion. However, she smiled gratefully at the Gestapo officer. "No. I'm all right. Danke, sir. I think my boyfriend has just had too much to drink. He's not like this. He's normally a very gentle, loving, and kind man."
Van Kueren tightened his grip on the man's wrist. "I suggest you apologize to the Fraulein, sir."
The man swallowed hard. "I apologize wholeheartedly, Ilse, for what I said." He then looked at the Captain. "And I apologize to you as well, Captain, for interrupting your dinner." Van Kueren smirked and let go of the man's wrist as if holding it burned his hand.
"Consider yourself lucky, sir," he said. He then abruptly turned and walked back to his table; only thing was that the table on the opposite side of the partition was now vacant.
Hogan number one was seated at his desk making out the assignments list while Hogan number two was stretched out on the top bunk reading a paperback book. Each man was ignoring the other. There was a knock on the door.
"Enter," both Hogans answered simultaneously. Each man then glared at the other before their attention turned to the door as it opened. Olsen looked in from the doorway with a concerned look on his face. He first looked at Hogan number two before focusing on Hogan number one.
"Colonel, you better come quick. Something's wrong with Kinch." He glanced briefly at Hogan number two who hadn't moved from his position on the top bunk while Hogan number one grabbed his jacket and started putting it on.
"What's wrong with Kinch?" Hogan number one asked Olsen, worried.
"I don't know, sir. He's got terrible stomach pains."
"Did you have somebody contact the guard outside so Wilson can be brought to the barracks?" Hogan number one asked grabbing his crush cap.
"Yes, sir. Saunders and Langenscheidt went to get Sergeant Wilson."
"Good," Hogan number one replied. He started to follow Olsen out the door, but suddenly paused in the doorway for a minute, turned, and looked over his shoulder up at the top bunk. "I hate to disturb you," he said sarcastically. "But one of your men is ill. Since you claim to be me, don't you think you should check on 'im? I mean, if it's not too much trouble, that is." Exhaling through his nose, Hogan number one walked out into the other room, leaving the door to his private quarters open.
With a shake of his head and exhaling with annoyance, Hogan number two laid his book on the bed and hopped down from the top bunk. He really wasn't interested in whether Sergeant Kinchloe was sick or not; but to maintain appearances he would check on him. Entering the common room, he spotted Hogan number one seated on the edge of the bunk beside Kinch. He stood and crossed his arms across his chest and feigned concern.
"Kinch, what's wrong?" Hogan number one asked his radioman who was lying in a fetal position with his arms wrapped around his midsection, moaning softly. Hogan put a hand on his friend's shoulder and noticed the man was trembling for some unknown reason. He looked up into the faces of several concerned men who were gathered around the bunk. "When did this happen and what exactly happened?" he asked.
"It started not too long after lunch, Colonel," Baker explained. "Kinch started wincing in pain and holding his stomach. Also, he hardly ate anything at dinner."
"But he kept trying to have us believe nothing was wrong," Garlotti added.
"Well it couldn't be my cooking!" LeBeau protested. "I do not poison people!"
"It was so your cooking, Louie," Olsen said. "Kinch was fine until he ate whatever that was you made."
"I'm telling you it wasn't me!" the little Frenchman raised his voice stabbing himself in the chest with a forefinger.
"Hold it. Hold it," Hogan ordered. "It doesn't matter right now. Wilson will make that determination." The men looked around at the sound of the barracks door opening and Saunders, followed closely by Wilson carrying his medical bag, and Corporal Langenscheidt, hurried inside.
"Okay everybody, move away," Wilson ordered as he neared the bed, placing his bag on the side. He noticed Hogan motion to him with his eyes which the medic understood. The medic knew all about the problem with the antenna, and that Kinch was needed below to make repairs. "That includes you too, Colonel. I promise I'll let you know how Kinch is after I examine him."
After a quick examination, Wilson determined that Kinch should be moved to the infirmary where he could be watched. When asked what was wrong by Hogan number one, Wilson replied it could be the beginning of an ulcer, or it could be stress related, he just wasn't sure at the moment.
"Kinch, can you get to your feet?" Wilson asked gently.
"I…I think so…" the radioman hissed through gritted teeth as with Olsen's help, was able to sit up gingerly with both feet on the floor. Hogan and Olsen, each holding one arm, then helped Kinch to his feet. The man was still hunched over and clutching his stomach, his face etched with pain. Then slowly, with Wilson and Langenscheidt behind them, Hogan and Olsen helped Kinch to the infirmary, every few steps stopping to allow Kinch to grit his teeth and take a deep breath when a wave of pain shot though his stomach nearly knocking him to his knees. Finally, they got to the infirmary.
While Hogan and Olsen went inside with their friend, Wilson put a hand on Langenscheidt's chest, stopping him. "It's okay, Corporal. You can wait out here. Sergeant Olsen will be heading back to the barracks as soon as we get Kinch settled, and Colonel Hogan will probably remain here for a while with Kinch. I will also be here all night."
Langenscheidt seemed a bit reluctant to leave however. "I should go and inform the Kommandant what has happened."
"Why don't you wait until morning before roll call and do that," Wilson advised. "I mean, by that time I will have more of an accurate diagnosis to give him."
Langenscheidt nodded. "Jawohl. That makes sense. I will do as you ask, Sergeant and tell the Kommandant tomorrow morning. I will also wait out here for Sergeant Olsen. I hope Sergeant Kinchloe will be all right. He is such a nice man."
"I will do everything I can for him, Corporal." Wilson then closed the door and walked towards his patient. He found Hogan and Olsen standing around the bed; Wilson moved a partition in front of the cot blocking the view of the patient from prying eyes of anybody entering the infirmary. He looked at Olsen. "You'd better get going. Langenscheidt's waiting outside to escort you back to the barracks. He already knows the Colonel and I are remaining."
Olsen smiled. "Good luck," he said with a grin as he walked away quickly. Everybody waited until they heard the infirmary door open and then close. They even waited an extra five minutes just to be sure it was safe.
"Okay, Kinch," Hogan said. He watched Kinch sit up and put his feet on the floor.
"Think the phony bought it, sir?" Kinch asked looking over his shoulder at Hogan.
"I never saw anybody so disinterested in my entire life," the Colonel replied. "My gut says he bought it. Now get going. Newkirk should already be below waiting for you."
"Yes, sir," said Kinch as he started to his feet and heading to the tunnel entrance hidden by the file cabinet in the corner of the room. He turned when Hogan called out. "Colonel?"
"Just to remind you to get your butt back up here about an hour before roll call. Wilson has to make sure you look sick when Klink comes by to check. Then you can get some sleep until nighttime again."
"Blimey, Kinch," said Newkirk as the two men had been working on trying to dislodge the antenna for over two hours. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The work had been tiring and hot. "You think we can get this bloody thing working in three bloody days like the Gov'nor wants?"
"I hope so," Kinch replied. "Realistically, I somehow doubt it. Without the radio, we're pretty much cut off from the outside world. Schnitzer isn't due in camp for at least a month so that's out. Besides, the Colonel doesn't have the luxury of having time on his side."
Kinch then noticed the grim look on the Englander's face. "Newkirk, what's wrong? Something's been bothering you since we started working on this antenna. Now what is it?"
Newkirk sat up on the table they both had been laying on while working and again wiped his brow. While they had worked, Kinch had updated the Englander about the Gestapo coming out on Saturday. He saw Kinch waiting, looking at him. "I was just thinking is all, mate. I mean, suppose we can't get this bleedin' radio workin' in time or expose that phony bastard or that bloody Gower. Do you and the others have a plan in place to get the Gov'nor out of here and back to London before Saturday if worse comes to worse?"
Kinch exhaled deeply. "We brought the subject up and he refuses to go," he said grimly. "Said he never ran from anything before and he's not gonna start now. Also, he's positive this mess can be resolved before Saturday." He saw Newkirk's expression hadn't changed. "We have to give him the chance," he added.
"I know. I just hope that if whatever he's got planned doesn't work, we still have time to get him out of here and safely to London before those bloody Gestapo take him." Suddenly, a noise further down the tunnels was thought to be heard. Kinch and Newkirk looked at each other.
"Did you hear something?" asked Newkirk.
"I'm not sure. Did you?" Suddenly there was another sound heard.
"I heard that," Kinch remarked as he and Newkirk put down their tools, scrambled off the table, and grabbed pistols from a hidden compartment under the radio table and stood side-by-side ready to confront their unwanted visitor in the tunnels.
(1) Curry-wurst is similar in taste and texture to Knockwurst. The sauce is made with tomato sauce, Hungarian paprika, and a powdered curry. It is then heated and served over sliced wurst.