**There are derogatory terms in this chapter. I thank Lizzie 0307 for her assistance.**

Chapter 2---Memories of Pain

It was a few moments after Hogan had gotten himself under control again before there was a knock on his door.

"Come," he said. The door opened and Carter, Newkirk, and LeBeau entered with LeBeau closing the door behind him.

"Kinch said you wanted to see us, Colonel," Newkirk said as he sat down on the colonel's lower bunk beside Carter. LeBeau, with arms folded, leaned against the colonel's desk.

"Where's Kinch?" asked Hogan. "He was suppose to join us."

"Baker came up from the tunnel and told Kinch the underground wanted to speak with 'im, sir," Newkirk explained. "Has to do with that von Herwarth I think. He should be joining us soon, sir."

Hogan, leaning against his desk with legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles, checked his watch before wrapping his arms around himself. "I wanted Kinch to be in on this as well, but he knows the first part of what I wanted to explain so I'll begin. Hopefully by the time we discuss the mission he'll be here." He glanced at Carter. "Carter, you asked me what a Mischling was, and LeBeau…" Hogan glanced over and down at the small Frenchman. "…you asked me about Operation Barbarossa. LeBeau, I'll answer your question first. Werner von Herwarth's uncle, Hans von Herwarth, kept the British continuously informed on the progress in 1939 of the Soviet-German contacts. In 1941, he informed the Allie of Operation Barbarossa which was Hitler's plan to invade Russia. It failed of course."

"That must have upset the Russians, mon Colonel, when they heard," LeBeau said.

Hogan shrugged. "Nobody knows how much, if anything, the Russians were told about Operation Barbarossa." Hogan then turned to Carter and repeated the explanation he had given Kinch as to what a Mischling was including what a first and second degree Mischling was. When he was finished, Hogan looked at his men collectively, waiting.

"Colonel, is the fact that this Werner von Herwarth is a first degree Mischling what upset you earlier?" asked Newkirk quietly. "I mean with 'im being the same religion you are and all."

"Yes and no, Newkirk," the colonel replied with a sigh. "Yes because many Mischlings fought for Hitler and this von Herwarth might be one such person, and that I can't accept. And no because although we're both Jewish, I can understand in a way being caught between a rock and a hard place so to speak." Hogan checked his watch again. Just then, there was a knock on his door. "Come in," he said.

The door opened, and Kinch walked in, pulling the door shut behind him. Hogan grinned.

"Glad you could make it, Kinch. I was about to send out a search party to look for you."

"We got the information from the underground as to where and when we're to pick up von Herwarth and his wife," the radioman explained handing a folded sheet of paper to his commanding officer. He then leaned against the post at the foot of the bottom bunk which helped hold up the upper bunk with both hands stuck in the pockets of his pea green jacket.

"Thanks, Kinch," said Hogan, unfolding the paper. He read the written information before reading it out loud. "Okay, gentlemen. The underground has informed us that von Herwarth and his wife will meet us at the abandoned ball bearing factory a mile outside of Hammelburg at 2230 hours tomorrow night. The recognition code will be 'Tonight I saw the stars shining brightly.' von Herwarth's reply should be 'The sky must have been clear.' Whoever's with me will then say 'I saw the North Star tonight.' And von Herwarth will reply 'Yes. It was the brightest star in the sky.'

"Blimey," Newkirk muttered. "Whoever thought up that bloody recognition code has to be British."

"What makes you say that?" asked Carter, puzzled.

"Because all the ruddy recognition codes from London are bloody ridiculous and so's this one. So it begs to differ a Brit has to be the one who made it up."

"All right, all right," Hogan said a bit irritated wrapping his arms around himself again. "Can the jokes. This is gonna require all of us to go. Newkirk, you'll be with me when we met with von Herwarth and his wife. Kinch, you, Carter and LeBeau will keep watch and if anything goes wrong, it'll be necessary for you three to get the von Herwarths out of Germany. Does everybody understand?" Hogan saw each man reluctantly agree to follow his orders just in case something were to go wrong. He let out a deep breath. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna meet von Herwarth and his wife, bring them back here. After we do Kinch will contact London and make arrangements for a sub to come and pick them up and get them to London. Simple right?"

"Would you care to rephrase that, Gov'nor?" joked Newkirk. "I'm afraid we don't quite know the exact meaning of what a simple mission is."

Everybody chuckled, even Hogan, with the knowledge that none of their past missions had been simple; not even the so-called 'easy' ones.

"Okay fellas, settle down," Hogan said. "Let's just hope the Gestapo isn't looking for them. Perhaps then it should be simple."

"Colonel, what does this von Herwarth look like?" asked Carter. "I mean, anybody could get hold of the recognition codes. How will we know that the guy we're meeting is really the guy we're suppose to be meeting?"

Hogan unfolded the paper again. "Good question, Carter. Let's see. Von Herwarth is six feet tall with brown hair and eyes, and has a distinguishing scar on the back of his right hand which is also missing a middle finger from a car accident. His wife is blond with blue eyes; no distinguishing marks."

Newkirk perked up hearing the woman's description. "Sounds like a gorgeous bird."

"Down boy," LeBeau teased the Englander. "Her husband will be with her. We can't afford to have him chasing you around the camp now, can we?"

Newkirk frowned. "A chap can dream can't he?"

Kinch smirked and then looked at his commander. "Colonel, so far nobody seems to know what information is in this journal. Any guesses on your part?"

Hogan let out a deep breath. "Not a one, Kinch. Oh, I've heard rumors of things, but I'd rather not speculate. Okay, fellas, that's it for now until tomorrow at 2230 hours."

Alone in his quarters, Hogan lay on his bottom bunk with hands clasped behind his head, staring up at the boards on the underside of the top bunk. He was thinking about the man they were going to meet with the following night. How could a German Jew fight for Hitler and his beliefs? How? I'd rather die than fight for old Scramble Brains. Hogan then thought maybe von Herwarth had no choice in the matter. He knew the Krauts never offered multiple choice when they wanted something. There was only one choice; you either did what they wanted of you, or you or someone close to you would be dead or missing permanently. That's it. Choose either column A or column B. Either way you were a loser. He let out a deep breath as he sat up, feet on the floor. Getting up, he walked to the window. Opening it, he gazed out into the compound at the prisoners outside. As he watched the men from other barracks, his mind drifted back many years to when he was a child growing up in a Catholic/Jewish household. It was something he hadn't thought about in years, and probably wouldn't be thinking about now except for Werner von Herwarth. It hadn't been easy growing up being the child of parents from two different religions.

His mother, Sandra Marie Kurtzman, was a secretary with a doctor's office at the time she met Colonel Robert Michael Hogan who was home on leave visiting his parents. Although a career military man, it was still love at first sight for both. After a two-year engagement the couple married. It took that long for the families of both sides to get used to each other. Sandra's parents were not pleased with the fact that their only daughter had fallen in love with a Catholic. But, they soon discovered Hogan was a good, decent, hardworking man who cared very deeply for their daughter. In fact, they couldn't find any fault at all with the military officer. Sandra's grandparents, although from the old school, had taken a bit longer to come around; but they soon did as well when Sandra promised their children would be raised according to the Jewish religion.

One year after they were married, Robert Edward Hogan was born; two years later came the twins John Robert and Katherine. A year after that came Michael Thomas and finally Sarah. As the oldest, young Robert had the luxury of being able to constantly pick on his siblings until they were old enough to fight back. But his teasing was never vicious or mean. It was all in good natured fun between siblings.

Hogan took in and promptly exhaled a deep breath as the memories continued. He recalled, as a youngster, often coming home from school crying; sometimes crying and bloody from having been in a fight at school. Things were difficult with his father being away most of the time due to his military obligations, and all he had were his siblings and his mother. In fact, Hogan remembered the very first time he had come home in tears, his clothes dirty, and bruises forming on his face along with a bloody nose. His father was away from home, and he was about seven or eight years old when he had his first encounter with anti-Semitism.

His mother, shocked by her son's appearance, immediately took him into the bathroom to clean up his face and stop the bleeding. He could tell his mother felt his pain from the look in her eyes, and guessed she probably had an idea what the fight was about. But still, she asked what happened.

He told her a boy from school who was a year older than him, had called him a bad name. His mother then asked him what the name had been. He didn't want to repeat it, plus, he really didn't want to hurt his mother by repeating it. In fact, he wished she would just drop the entire matter but knew she wouldn't. It wasn't her way. Kneeling down, she first dried his tears and then proceeded to treat the bruises and bloody nose, and again repeated the question.

Sniffing, he looked into his mother's blue eyes with his wet brown ones. "Kevin called me a dirty Jew," he said softly. He could see his mother's body stiffen momentarily and her hands pause during her treatment of his injuries. Then just as quickly, she calmly resumed what she had been doing. Robert, tilting his head slightly, looked at his mother curiously. "Mama, why did he call me a dirty Jew?"

Sandra Hogan exhaled a very deep breath as she chose her words carefully. "Sweetheart, you were right in believing Kevin called you a bad name. But when he called you that, it was out of ignorance and stupidity and was probably something he heard his parents talking about and repeated. I'm afraid he may not be the only one or the last time you hear that name."

"But…why did he call me that?" the young boy asked.

"Because you are Jewish, sweetheart. But you should not be ashamed of what you are. You should be proud of who and what you are."

Robert smiled slightly. "I'm not ashamed of being Jewish, mama," he said. "I'm proud to be Jewish. It makes me feel…unique. Special in fact."

His mother smiled, hugged her son, and kissed his bruised cheek before continuing to treat him.

Sighing, Hogan turned away from the window. He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked back to the lower bunk and sat down again. Taking off his crush cap, he tossed it onto his footlocker before running both hands down his face. His still beautiful mother, having been widowed since he was sent to Stalag 13; his father, a retired one-star General, had been suffering from a heart condition for several years, and suffered a massive heart attack after receiving the news his oldest son was a POW after being shot down over Germany, and had succumbed without ever regaining consciousness three days later. Closing his eyes, Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose, not really sure if hearing about von Herwarth brought back all these memories or not, but it really didn't matter. There was a sudden knock on his door.

"Come in," he said raising his head and looking up.

The door opened and Newkirk poked his head inside. "Colonel, Kinch sent me to tell you a Gestapo car is coming through the front gates." He paused a moment. "You all right, Gov'nor?"

"Yeah, Newkirk. I'm fine. Find Kinch, Carter and LeBeau and all of you come in here. I think our simple mission just became complicated."

"Right away, sir." Newkirk immediately closed the door while Hogan got out the coffee pot which was their listening device connected to the bug planted in Klink's office. Moments later the door to his quarters opened and in walked his team with Carter pulling the door closed behind him. Hogan had just plugged in the coffee pot.

"Hochstetter?" he asked them, worry etched on his face.

"Don't know, sir," said Carter. "The staff car was just pulling up outside Klink's office when Newkirk came and got us."

"Well, we'll soon find out," Hogan announced as they heard the door to Klink's office open and close.

"Kommandant Klink?" an unfamiliar voice said.

"Yes? What can I do for you, Major…?"

"Guthrie. Major Tice Guthrie, Gestapo."

Even though they couldn't see him, Hogan and the others could picture their fearless Kommandant shriveling before the Gestapo Major.

"Welcome to Stalag 13, Major. What can I do for you?"

"I am searching for two traitors to the Third Reich, Klink, by the name of Werner and Christina von Herwarth. Schweinhunde. Traitors who have with them information our illustrious Fuhrer doesn't wish to be disclosed. Should it be, this information could put our beloved Fuhrer, how would the Americans say, in a bad light with the Allies. You understand."(1)

"Of course, sir," Klink's voice was shaky at best. "But why are you here? Surely you don't expect to find these traitors among my prisoners?"

"The people I am looking for were last seen heading in the direction of this camp and then suddenly disappeared."

"Disappeared?" asked Klink.

"Into thin air, Klink," Guthrie explained. "I suspect he and his wife are still in this area. And from what I understand from a Major Hochstetter, there have been a lot of strange happenings in this area."

"Strange happenings?" asked Klink. "What strange happenings do you mean, Major?"

Klink knew exactly to what Guthrie was referring. The minute he mentioned he spoke with Major Hochstetter Klink became scared. He didn't need the Gestapo hanging around. Yet, he had a nagging suspicion the name of one prisoner in particular was about to be spoken by the Major.

"Come now, Klink. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I know Major Hochstetter believes your Senior POW officer is somehow involved in these strange happenings. What is his name?"

"Hogan. Colonel Robert Hogan, Major. He is the senior officer among the prisoners here. But I can assure you, Major…." Klink began.

"Hogan. Hmmm. That is not a Jewish sounding name," Guthrie interrupted. "Odd. A Mistkerl with an Irish-sounding name. Very strange indeed."(2)

Klink trembled listening to the major. He didn't like the direction this conversation was going. Since Hogan had been at Stalag 13 Klink had guessed certain things about his Senior POW officer even with Hogan revealing nothing about himself to him. Klink had wondered about how a Jewish American could have an Irish-sounding last name. The assumption Klink came to was that one of Hogan's parents may have been Irish and maybe Catholic. But he never shared that information with anybody; not General Burkhalter and definitely not Major Hochstetter. He didn't want to cause problems for Hogan or get him into trouble with those in Berlin such as the SS or the Gestapo.

"Major, I don't know what you think Colonel Hogan can possibly tell you, but let me assure you…" Klink began.

"Assure me of nothing, Klink," Guthrie declared. "As I said, Major Hochstetter believes very strongly that these strange happenings began when Colonel Hogan was assigned here, and I concur. Or should I say since this Jude was sent here."

Hogan bristled at the way the Gestapo Major said the word 'Jude.' His men noticed his expression change.

"Major, there is no need to bring Colonel Hogan's religion into the equation," Klink found himself disgusted his Senior POW officer's religion was spoken with such disdain. He disliked this Major already; he seemed to be typical of the Gestapo officers he had met over the years. Klink knew Hogan was Jewish as were other prisoners in Stalag 13, but he secretly liked Hogan and the fact he was Jewish didn't bother him.

"Klink, I suggest for your own good that you remember that these swine are the enemy; especially the dirty Jews. Now, since your Senior POW officer is at the center of all these strange occurrences, I want him brought to this office at once! I will question him."

"Surely, Major, you don't suspect Colonel Hogan…."

"Klink, you are trying my patience," Guthrie said coldly. "You will either have this man brought to me at once, or I will have any prisoner in this camp I suspect of being a Jew shot."

"Schuuuuuuultz!" Klink bellowed.

The door to Klink's office opened and the rotund form of Sergeant Hans Schultz walked in, coming immediately to attention. He sharply saluted Klink and the Major.

"Sergeant Schultz reporting as ordered, Herr Kommandant," Schultz said.

"Schultz, this is Major Guthrie, Gestapo. He wants to question Colonel Hogan. Therefore, you will go at once to barracks two and bring Colonel Hogan here immediately."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant. At once!" Schultz glanced with apprehension at the Gestapo officer before saluting and leaving the office. He suspected this Gestapo Major was going to be trouble. Schultz rolled his eyes as he walked down the steps of the Kommandantur and headed across the compound in the direction of barracks two. He suspected the 'monkey business' Hogan and his men were up to was probably the reason the Gestapo was here, and that definitely meant trouble.

"What do you think he wants with you, mon Colonel?" asked a worried LeBeau.

Hogan, arms wrapped around himself, appeared lost in thought.

"Didn't you hear, mate? He's lookin' for that bloody von Herwarth and his wife."

"We can't let him catch them," Hogan said. "Guthrie is after the journal von Herwarth has in his possession. We can't let him get his hands on it. You heard 'im. Whatever's in it is obviously an embarrassment to old Scramble Brains Hitler. And if it's embarrassing to him it's gotta be of immense value to the Allies." He stopped when the door opened and Schultz walked in.

"Colonel Hogan, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Kommandant Klink wants you in his office right away. And there's also a Gestapo Major who wants to talk with you as well." Schultz truly looked apologetic to the men.

"Gestapo, Schultz?" asked Hogan, feigning innocence. "Who? I haven't done anything. I've been a very good boy. I haven't even kissed Hilda lately." Hogan suddenly took on a nervous look. "Hilda didn't contact the Gestapo because I haven't kissed her in a while, did she, Schultz? I mean, I didn't promise her anything."

Schultz appeared sad. "I don't know anything about that, Colonel Hogan," he said sadly. "All I know is this Major Guthrie is trouble and I suspect is not a very nice person."

"Know any Gestapo who aren't, Schultz?" asked Carter, worried.

"Do me a favor, Schultz. Wait outside for a minute. I need to tell my men something," Hogan was gently moving Schultz towards the open door.

"Colonel Hogan, I am suppose to bring you with me."

Hogan shrugged his shoulders. "Actually, I don't see why you shouldn't know what the escape committee is discussing anyway."

"I'll wait outside." Schultz made a hasty exit out the door, closing it behind him. A minute later, Hogan grabbed his crush cap off the footlocker and putting it on his head, pushed it back.

"I have to make this quick or even Schultz will get suspicious," Hogan explained. "Listen in. If something goes wrong and you suspect this Guthrie knows about us, forget me and get everybody out. I mean it. I'll buy you as much time as I can. But under no circumstances is anyone to play hero by trying to save me. Understand?"

Nobody spoke. Their eyes all spoke volumes as to how they felt. Words weren't necessary.

"Understand?" Hogan repeated in his command voice.

This time there was a collective 'yes sir' from everyone.

Hogan quickly bid them goodbye and walked out the door where Schultz was waiting in the common room.

(1) Schweinhunde is plural of Schweinhund and means 'bastard.' Information given by Lizzi0307.

(2) Mistkerl means scumbag. Information given by Lizzi0307.