Chapter 8---A Meeting With a Surprise
The tree stump on the perimeter of the woods slowly lifted allowing Newkirk's eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness and to assess the situation regarding the spotting of any patrols. Not seeing any, the Englander lifted and threw back the lid of the tree stump on its hinges, climbed out, and quickly closed it. He crouched down behind the stump as the searchlight from the guard tower swept past where he was hidden. After it had passed, Newkirk raised the lid and signaled for Kinch to climb out before he quickly closed the lid again as both men ducked behind several bushes as the searchlight passed by from the opposite direction. When it had passed, Newkirk again raised the lid and ushered Carter out before closing the lid and hiding. Once the light had again passed, Kinch, weapon in hand, motioned with it to Carter and Newkirk for them to follow as he took off into the woods en-route to the abandoned ball-baring plant.
Fifteen minutes later, Guthrie's staff car slowed as it approached the front gates of Stalag 13. Glancing in the driver's side window, Sergeant Mueller, one of the guards assigned to the front gate, noticed the Gestapo Major, apparently alone in the vehicle, was driving which in itself was unusual, but when it came to Gestapo officers Mueller learned not to question what they were doing. Not if you wanted to remain among the land of the living anyway. Besides, considering what the Major had done to Corporal Langenscheidt, Sergeant Schultz and several prisoners including Colonel Hogan, he secretly hoped the Major would never return and things could return to normal.
"Guten abend, Major," he said addressing Guthrie. "A little late to be going out alone, isn't it?"
"Abend, Sergeant," Guthrie replied frostily. "Not that I have to explain myself to you, but I will be gone for awhile. Now, you will open the gate and let me pass."
Mueller sighed as he saluted. "Jawohl, Major." He stood and waved to his fellow guards for them to open the front gates. As they did so, he watched the Major's car drive through the front gates heading in the direction of the bombed out refinery. About five or six minutes after they had cleared the front gates, Guthrie's eyes glanced up momentarily at the rear-view mirror before returning to the road ahead.
"You can come out now, Colonel Hogan," he said with a smirk.
A blanket on the floor in the back of the staff car was thrown back and the figure of Colonel Robert Hogan climbed up onto the backseat. Removing his crush cap, he ran his fingers through his ebony hair then replaced his cap. "Nice going, Major. I always said when I left Stalag 13 I'd be leaving out the front gate," he replied with a lopsided grin. He quickly glanced out the back window, unable to relax. The last thing he needed now was somebody following them.
"Relax, Colonel. I made certain I was not followed." He noticed Hogan looked a bit uncomfortable and kept looking out the rear window as if expecting to see another car at any minute. "You might as well sit back and enjoy the drive. We won't be at the bombed out refinery for at least another twenty or twenty-five minutes."
"Sorry," Hogan uttered. "I'm just not use to being outside the wire unless it's on a work detail or as a courtesy accompanied by the Kommandant and with a couple of guards. This is a new experience." Hogan wasn't a tiny bit worried being outside the wire with a Gestapo agent, but he wanted to see the direction in which they were going as he knew the direct route to the refinery they were heading to and wanted to make certain there were no deviations.
Guthrie smirked. "Colonel, you never did tell me how von Herwarth made contact with you."
Hogan's eyes shifted to the back of Guthrie's head. "There you go asking questions again. Don't you remember that old expression about what curiosity did to the cat, Major?"
Guthrie chuckled and kept driving.
Kinch, Carter and Newkirk continued to their destination. So far they had not run into any patrols which to them, though not strange, considering a Gestapo Major was in camp, made them feel a bit more nervous about not seeing anyone.
"I wonder if Colonel Hogan's okay?" Carter whispered. "I mean, he's all alone with that Major Guthrie." It was a question that ran through the minds of the others as well.
"If that bloody bastard harms one hair on the Gov'nor's head, it'll be the last thing he ever does." Newkirk patted his pistol for emphasis.
"The Colonel should be fine," Kinch assured them. "Especially since he's leading him to a fake rendezvous place. Guthrie will just think von Herwarth didn't show up for some reason. Besides, Guthrie needs the Colonel as long as von Herwarth is out there somewhere with his journal."
That seemed to calm the others for a few minutes. But then Newkirk asked a question.
"But what happens when Guthrie decides he no longer needs the Gov'nor, mate?"
It was a question nobody wanted to think about because the answer was just too frightening.
Guthrie stopped the car in the woods near the bombed out refinery where it would not be found. He and Hogan got out and walked the remaining few feet until they could see the burnt-out hulk that was once a thriving refinery. Hogan allowed a smile to appear as he studied the remains knowing it had been the information supplied by him and his men that resulted in the refinery being as it now stood.
Guthrie looked around. "What now, Colonel?" he asked.
Hogan checked his watch seeing they still had an hour before the rendezvous was to take place. He secretly prayed his men had had no problems on their end and everything was on time as scheduled because even if the schedule was off for even a few minutes might be costly. He knelt down in the dense foliage and motioned for Guthrie to do the same. "We have an hour so I think we should make sure we aren't walking into a trap. Then if everything's okay, we wait. At least from here we can see who approaches the refinery without being seen ourselves." His eyes suddenly narrowed and he looked at the Major. "Major, just out of curiosity, what does this von Herwarth look like? I mean, how will we know him if we see him?"
Guthrie removed his sidearm and out of habit checked it. He wanted to be ready just in case. "I don't know, Colonel. Like you, I've never met the man. But I have heard things."
"Such as?"
"I've heard he's missing a finger on his right hand and has an identifying scar, but that's about it."
"Well, that's more than I know at least."
The Major sighed. "Now, let's check out this rendezvous place and see if there's, how do you say, a trap set."
"Fine. I'll stay with you," Hogan said. He didn't want Guthrie out of his sight if at all possible.
"Why would you do that? If we split up, we can check the entire area more quickly, non?"
"More quickly yes," Hogan agreed. "But you've got the gun. What am I going to do if I run into others? Salute them?"
With a shake of his head, Guthrie motioned with his weapon for the American to follow.
Once both men were satisfied they were alone, they made themselves comfortable and prepared to wait. Waiting was not something Hogan did very well; never did as far back as he could remember. Even when he sent his men out individually or collectively as he did tonight, waiting for them to return was nerve-wracking because short of going out to search for them himself, there was nothing he could do as with the situation tonight. Plus, he had to keep his wits about him and distract Guthrie for at least an hour more or he and his men would be facing a firing squad.
Subconsciously, Hogan fingered the chain around his neck before he realized he was fingering the chain his Star-of-David was on. Glancing down at the front of his shirt where the small object that identified his faith rested beneath his shirt, Hogan rested his hand over it while thinking about the time he had waited like this with nothing he could do about a situation. It was when he and his family were waiting for word as to whether his father would have to leave and serve his country. It was the beginning of World War 1.
He had been following intensely the news of the growing tensions between the Allies and the Central Powers. Being the son of a military officer and although he was only nine years old, Hogan was very inquisitive and eager to learn things. Also, when he was suppose to be asleep, he would often sneak downstairs and sit on the steps listening to his parents talking as his father discussed the possibility he might have to leave and join the conflict should the United States enter into the war. Hogan was terrified hearing his father talk about the pending war because his gut feeling told him if there was a war and the United States entered, there was the possibility his father would leave and might not come back.
It was shortly after his ninth birthday that his father sat him down and explained to him about a particular incident. It was the assassination of Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria.(1) Even though he didn't understand everything he was being told, he was not hesitant to ask questions.
"Who killed him, papa?" young Hogan asked, his brown eyes watching his father's face carefully.
"It was a Serbian terrorist named Gavrilo Principe. He shot and killed the Archduke and his wife Sophie in a place called Sarajevo which is the capital of Bosnia."
"But what does that have to do with us, papa?" the boy was still confused about what effect something so far away would have on his family.
The elder Hogan, sighing wearily, cupped his son's cheek. "On July 28th of this year, Austria declared war on Serbia." He could see his son was still a bit confused. "With Austria-Hungary declaring war against Serbia, the Allies of both countries have declared war on each other."
"Are you trying to tell me we might have to join one side against the other and you might have to leave us for a long time, papa?" The elder Hogan could see the pain in his son's eyes even though he was trying oh so hard to hide his feelings.
"Yes, that is what I am trying to tell you, son. So far, the United States is staying out of things, but I can't guarantee things will stay that way. It could change in a moment's notice, and I will have to leave you, your brothers and sisters and your mother. And as the oldest, you will indirectly become the man of the house."
Young Hogan, leaning forward, hugged his father tightly. "I don't want to be the man of the house if it means you have to leave, papa. I hope we stay out of the war."
Hogan hugged his son letting him rest his head on his shoulder. "That's up to the president of the United States to decide," he murmured.
Fortunately or unfortunately for young Hogan, things remained quiet until another incident from May 7th, 1915, prior to his tenth birthday, which seemed to bring that hope crashing down around the young boy.
Eager to keep abreast of the pending war, young Hogan managed to see a newspaper that had been left out on the table; it was dated Saturday, May 8th. It was a copy of the Washington Post. The headlines were in big block letters:
'RMS Lusitania Sunk By A Submarine'
Hogan proceeded to read the headline directly beneath it:
'1,959 on board; 1,260 presumed dead; twice torpedoed off coast of Ireland; vessel sinks in fifteen minutes'
Hogan continued to read the entire story from beginning to end, fascinated with what he read. The RMS Lusitania was a Lusitania-Class British luxury ocean liner owned by the Cunard Line. He discovered that of the nearly two thousand people on board the luxury ocean liner, 1,195 people perished, including 123 out of 159 Americans. Even at nearly ten years old he was horrified by what he was reading. He was further horrified to learn it was not a submarine but a German U-boat which torpedoed the luxury liner.(2) When he was finished, he began to reread it when his father walked into the living room and saw his son engrossed in the paper. A grim smile appeared on the older man's face. He didn't worry about his eldest son learning about these things and was glad he was so interested even at his young age.
What concerned the elder Hogan the most and was glad wasn't in the papers was what he had heard rumors about. That the Lusitania was supposedly carrying a large supply of guns, ammo and other weapons to be used to kill German soldiers and that was the possible motive for the U-boat sinking her. At least he had heard that was the reason the German government gave for torpedoing the ocean liner. Whether or not it was true the elder man didn't know.
Young Robert, sensing someone had entered the room, turned and saw his father standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around himself, watching him. Even from the doorway, the elder man could sense his son's sadness and horror at what had happened. The young boy ran to his father and hugged him around the waist tightly with eyes squeezed tightly shut, although no tears fell. What the boy had secretly dreaded all this time was about to happen. He was sure his father was going to leave and enter the war because of this. He just knew it. Being a bomber pilot was dangerous and young Robert knew a time could come when his father might be shot down and not come back. The elder man lovingly stroked his son's thick black hair. All he could think to say was what he had said a year earlier.
"It's up to the President of the United States to make the decision."
Hogan ran a hand across his face as he came back to the present while still resting his hand over the Star-of-David. He hadn't thought of that time of his life in years. C'mon, Rob, get a grip. This is not the time to think back to things in the past. You've got more important things to think and worry about. Like hoping Guthrie doesn't decide to just shoot you right here; how are you going to overpower him as he has at least one weapon you know of. And even though you have a weapon yourself, how are you going to use it if Guthrie gets the drop on you. And finally, are your men all right with their mission. Hogan shifted his position and glanced at his watch, surprised to see they still had fifty minutes to go before the second hour was up. He sighed wondering how things were with his men.
Kinch, Carter and Newkirk shifted their positions in the bushes while keeping an eye on the abandoned ball-bearing factory. Thank God the ball-bearing plant was only a mile from camp, Kinch thought. He checked his watch; von Herwarth was late. It was already fifteen minutes past the meeting time. If their contact was late it could mean one of several things with the two biggest ones running through his mind, and that was being captured by the Gestapo and there were patrols hidden in the woods waiting for them to make a move, or the entire thing was a set-up arranged by Major Guthrie who was now out alone with Colonel Hogan.
"How much more time are we gonna give this bloke, Kinch?" asked Newkirk. The hair on the nape of the Englander's neck bristled. Blimey, must be from hanging around the Gov'nor for so long.
"We wait another half-an-hour and then we leave and return to camp," Kinch explained. "That way we'll have a fifteen minute head-start on the Colonel and Guthrie."
Just then there was a rustling sound in the bushes which caught their attention. Kinch placed a forefinger to his lips as he glanced over his shoulder at the other two. The rustling sound grew louder meaning whoever it was had moved closer. Kinch motioned for Carter to move to east and come around whoever it was. Nodding, the young Sergeant silently disappeared from sight. As he did so, Newkirk crept beside Kinch.
Kinch decided to chance it because this waiting was killing him, and he had no idea how the Colonel did it.
"Tonight I saw the stars shining brightly," he said in a low voice and waited. There was no response. He repeated the recognition code again.
"The sky must have been clear," a distinct German voice replied.
Straining his eyes, Kinch still couldn't see anybody. He tapped Newkirk's arm.
"I saw the North Star tonight," the Englander said.
"Yes. It was the brightest star in the sky."
"Von Herwarth?" asked Kinch.
"Yes. Papa Bear?"
"No. We're his cubs. Is your wife with you?"
"Yes."
Newkirk and Kinch stood up and stepped out from behind the bushes as did von Herwarth clutching his wife's hand.
"Blimey," Newkirk murmured softly when he saw Christina von Herwarth. She was even lovelier than her description made her sound. Her bright blue eyes were accented by her golden blond tresses which hung below her shoulders with a few tresses cascading over her shoulders. This bird's drop-dead gorgeous.
Kinch and von Herwarth studied each other. London's description had been fairly accurate. The man had light brown hair and brown eyes and was about the Colonel's height of six feet. His right hand which clutched his wife's so tightly, had a healed jagged scar on the back of it. Kinch held out his hand.
"I'm Kinchloe and this is Newkirk."
Von Herwarth took Kinch's hand and shook it firmly. That was then Kinch saw the middle finger was missing on the same hand. Von Herwarth then shook hands with Newkirk.
"I am Werner von Herwarth; this is my wife Christina. We are both pleased to meet you. But we were told we were to meet Papa Bear."
"Yeah, well…" Newkirk began, his eyes not straying from Christina's face. "Papa Bear had a previous engagement and couldn't make it, so he sent us to bring you to him."
Just then there was a rustling sound in the bushes from behind the von Herwarths causing them to jump as they looked around; Newkirk and Kinch tightened their grips on their weapons. A minute later, Carter emerged from the bushes.
"It's only me, guys," he said with a lopsided grin. He then noticed the von Herwarths. "Hi, I'm Carter," he said holding out his hand. "You must be Mr. and Mrs. Von Herwarth."
"Ja, that is us," said von Herwarth shaking Carter's hand.
"Carter, did you see anybody?" asked Newkirk.
"Nobody. Not one single Kraut. Oh, excuse me, ma'am," Carter immediately said apologetically.
Christina smiled. "It is all right. No offense taken."
Kinch then looked nervously around. "Okay, let's go and get back to camp. Hopefully Col…Papa Bear will return shortly after we return." He started to lead the way back to Stalag 13 when he suddenly stopped and turned back to their guests.
"I almost forgot to ask you. Where's the journal? You'd better give it to me for safe keeping."
Von Herwarth and his wife looked at each other. Then he stared into Kinch's eyes.
"I do not have the journal on me. I couldn't take the chance in case we were caught. But I can get my hands on it in a minute. But don't worry. It is well hidden and Papa Bear will not get his hands on it until he agrees to my terms."
Kinch, Carter and Newkirk, stunned, looked at each other. They all knew the Colonel would flip when he heard that von Herwarth not only didn't have the promised journal on him, but wouldn't give it up until certain terms were met.
Kinch sighed. "Let's go. You can explain it to Papa Bear."
Hogan let out a silent deep breath. He was going crazy worrying about his men, the von Herwarths, the safety of the journal, and helping himself if Guthrie decided to try and kill him before returning to camp. This waiting reminded him of a day when his life changed; it was before his twelfth birthday. Again he couldn't do anything about it.
Young Robert was about three-and-a-half months away from his twelfth birthday and still his portion of the world was safe this April 7th, 1917, and his father was at home. Things couldn't have been better as far as he was concerned. But with the ringing of the doorbell, the entire world as young Robert Hogan knew it collapsed.
His mother opened the door and accepted the telegram addressed to her husband. It was from the Army. She quickly gave it to her husband who nervously ripped it open while his wife stood, waiting anxiously. Young Robert, having heard the doorbell, waited and watched from the bottom of the stairs leading into the foyer where his parents were. He knew his parents had both been extremely nervous and on edge of late. He quietly waited and watched as his father read the telegram. Finally, the elder Hogan looked sadly at his wife and wrapped his arms tightly around her pulling her close; young Hogan saw his mother wrap her arms around his father and cry loudly.
"No!" the young boy shouted as he ran forward and hugged his father from behind, fighting tears. It was too close to his twelfth birthday for the Army to take his father. It was cruel and unfair. Releasing his mother, Hogan's father turned and knelt down in front of his son, gripping him by both shoulders.
"Son, President Wilson declared war on Germany. The United States is now officially in the war. I've been called to report and leave in the morning. I'm sorry I won't be here for your twelfth birthday."(3)
Young Hogan looked into his father's eyes. It was from that moment on that the boy told himself he would never again let anybody hurt someone he loved like himself, his mother and siblings were being hurt at this moment. He would do all he could to protect the people he loved no matter what he had to do.
"Dad, when I grow up I'm joining the Army and become a pilot like you. I want to fight the injustices other countries force on us and our friends." He then stood straight and wrapped his arms around himself as he often saw his father do. "I want to be a Colonel like you."
The elder Hogan leaned forward and kissed his son's wet cheek. "I can only hope when you are old enough to join the Army there are no more wars to be fought."
Hogan sighed wearily and checked his watch for the umpteenth time. He still had another thirty-five minutes before they had to start back to camp. He looked again at Guthrie and noticed the Gestapo Major studying him. "Something wrong, Major?" Hogan quipped.
"I'm not sure, Colonel. You seemed preoccupied."
"Not really," Hogan lied. "I'm just not use to being awake at this time of the night. I'm usually nice and snug in my quarters on my cardboard mattress tucked beneath my paper-thin blanket." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Seems like this von Herwarth is either late or not coming at all. We've been out here nearly two hours. Major, can I make a suggestion?"
"Certainement, Colonel," Guthrie replied, smirking.
"I say we wait another thirty-five minutes. That'll be two hours. If he doesn't show we head back. The Kommandant hates it when I'm late for roll call."
(1) The assassination of Archduke Ferdinand and his wife on 6/28/1914 many believe triggered the outbreak of WW1. Courtesy of The History Learning Site.
(2) On 5/7/1915, the sinking of the Lusitania was thought by many to have a major impact on America and World War 1, but the Americans did not join the war for another 2 years. The Lusitania sailed from New York to Liverpool, England carrying nearly two thousand passengers and depending on what info you read the number of passengers and the dead varies. The Lusitania was rumored to also be carrying a large supply of guns, ammo and other weapons which many state accounts for the misconception that two torpedoes were fired when, in reality, only one was fired by a German U-boat. The second explosion was caused by the amount of ammunition she carried.
(3)The U.S. entered the war 4/6/1917 when then President Woodrow Wilson declared war on Germany after a telegram was presented to him proving that Germany had adopted a policy of 'unrestricted submarine warfare' realizing America would eventually enter the war. Germany had sought to strangle Allied sea lanes before the US could transport a large army overseas.