Chapter 11---While He Was Sleeping

Wilson, having finished his exam and treating Hogan's injuries looked at Kinch while wiping his hands on a towel.

"He should sleep for several hours if not the rest of the day from that sedative in addition to the pain med I gave him. He'll be sore for a few days and he'll have a slight scar on his cheek from where he was cut. But it won't be permanent. I put a little iodine on it. Make sure he keeps it clean so it won't get infected. He's just fortunate nothing's broken."

"But he'll be all right?" asked Kinch for the second time; he had previously asked while Wilson was treating the Colonel.

The medic smiled. "He'll be fine. I left him a bottle of aspirin the other day so he can continue taking that should he need to if he has any pain. I'll be back later this evening to check on him." Kinch pulled the blanket up over Hogan and tucked it under his chin. Then he and Wilson quietly walked out of the small room pulling the door shut. They both found three pairs of concerned eyes looking at them, waiting anxiously.

"How's the Colonel?" asked LeBeau as he poured a cup of coffee and handed it to the medic before pouring another for Kinch.

"He'll be fine," Wilson repeated before taking a drink of coffee. "Nothing's broken thank God."

Newkirk, who had been playing solitaire while waiting, angrily threw the cards on the table. "That bloody bastard Guthrie," he muttered. "He's suppose to be on our side and this is how he treats the Gov'nor. Well I say he's got some ruddy explainin' to do."

"I say he's lying to all of us," LeBeau sneered. "He is nothing more than a filthy Bosche!"

Kinch took a drink a hot coffee. "I'll say one thing. I'm beginning to doubt he's really on our side."

Carter looked worried. "You don't suppose this Captain Rochet turned, do you?"

"Anything's possible, Andrew," Kinch told him. "But it wouldn't surprise me whatsoever. I mean, he wouldn't be the first underground operative to join the other side."

"Well I say we should make him pay!" LeBeau chimed in angrily. "Even if he is an underground operative and has a cover to maintain in the Gestapo, he cannot hurt mon Colonel like that."

"Normally I'd agree with you, LeBeau," Kinch said. "But it's Colonel Hogan's call. He'll decide what's done with Rochet or Guthrie or whoever he is."

LeBeau let loose a string of French obscenities under his breath which told the others he was unhappy, but he knew Kinch was right. It was up to their commanding officer. Besides, right now they had more important things to take care of.

Draining his coffee cup, Wilson grabbed his bag. "I'd better get going. But I'll get the Colonel out of evening roll call with Klink."

"Okay, Joe. Thanks," Kinch said as the medic exited the barracks.

"Speaking of Klink," Kinch said as he sat down at the table with the others. "He really came through for the Colonel. Weber told me he stood up to Guthrie as he was getting ready to strike the Colonel with his fist. He apparently had beaten him with the buckle end of his belt. That's how he got that cut on his cheek."

"Think Klink'll get in trouble with Guthrie for it?" Carter asked softly, face full of concern.

Newkirk shrugged. "Maybe. Who the hell knows? But it wouldn't surprise me if he did."

Carter seemed to take what his best friend said in stride. "What d'ya think he'll do to Klink?"

Newkirk rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Carter, what are you natterin' on about? You should be more concerned about the Gov'nor instead a bleedin' Kraut."

"Yeah, well, say what you want about Klink, but if it hadn't been for him, Colonel Hogan could've been hurt a whole lot worse, killed maybe."

There was a moment of silence at the table before someone finally replied to Carter's words.

"Andre is correct and you know it, Pierre," LeBeau said. "Le Colonel ne pourrait pas etre ici avec nous main tenant et vous le savez."

"English, LeBeau. Speak bloody English." The Englander was rapidly becoming annoyed again.

LeBeau leaned forward with both hands, palms down on the table and stared directly into Newkirk's face. "I said the Colonel might not be here with us right now and you know it."

"Yeah, well…." Newkirk didn't finish.

"Y'know, something just occurred to me," Kinch interjected.

"What?" asked LeBeau.

"Now hear me out first. I don't think Guthrie was trying to kill Colonel Hogan." Seeing Newkirk and the others about to explode, Kinch held up a hand. "No, listen. If he really wanted to kill him the Colonel would be dead right now. I think either Guthrie got a little carried away with his Gestapo act or…."

"…or he's really a bloody Kraut intending on harming the Gov'nor."

Kinch sighed. "Look, we're not going get anywhere arguing with each other. I suggest we let the Colonel handle it when he's up to it. Wilson says he'll be fine so let's let it go for now." He looked at the Frenchman. "LeBeau, we'll need you to prepare something for our guests, and keep in mind Mrs. von Herwarth is eating for two."

"Oui, I remember." He tied an apron around his waist and began bustling about preparing lunch.

Kinch checked his watch. "I'd better go below and contact London with the information the Colonel asked me to last night." He glanced at Carter and Newkirk as he put his empty coffee cup on the table. "Don't let anybody disturb the Colonel. Wilson says he might sleep for hours so let him."

Newkirk grinned. "Just let somebody try gettin' past us, mate."

With a grin of his own, Kinch walked over to the double bunk and struck the hidden mechanism. As the lower bunk rattled upward he glanced over his shoulder. "Olsen, keep watch at the door. Give a yell if we have any unwanted visitors." He climbed over the bed frame and onto the ladder.

In his quarters, Hogan had the appearances of sleeping peacefully thanks to the sedative Wilson had given him. But in reality, his mind had drifted back; back to a different year and a different time of his life.

It was July 12th, 1918. Young Robert knew he should've been ecstatic about his thirteenth birthday tomorrow, but he wasn't. Also, it would be the day of his Bar Mitzvah when he would become a man. He had been studying for this moment since the age of five when he started to study the Scriptures; then at ten years of age the Mishnah, and also the Commandments. He knew as soon as he turned thirteen he was considered an adult and responsible for his own moral and religious duties according to the Jewish faith. But he just couldn't get excited because the one person who should have been present to partake in what was normally the most joyous occasion of a boy's young life wouldn't be there. His father would not only miss his birthday, but would miss his eldest son becoming a man. He chewed his lower lip. His father was suppose to recite the blessing thanking G-d for removing the burden of being responsible for his son's sins, but his uncle would stand in his place. Not that young Robert objected to his mother's brother Jacob reciting the blessing, but there was something special in having his father say it. Robert sat on the front steps of his home blinking back his tears knowing he would take his place during the service and read from the Torah and his father wouldn't be there to see it. He sorely missed his father and his strong presence; but he was proud of him as well. He was not only serving his country honorably, but he was taking part in protecting the rights and freedoms he, as a child, and millions of others enjoyed. And even at thirteen, Hogan was more positive than ever that this is what he wanted to do; defend his country, serve and protect her to the best of his ability. He couldn't wait until he was of legal age so he could enlist in the military. He could only imagine what being up in the clear blue sky in a plane was like, soaring above the clouds where there was a real freedom. A freedom that came from only being in the skies high above the ground with only the birds for company. (1)

Hogan's grandfather on his mother's side, though up in age, had tutored him along with the Rabbi at his family's synagogue preparing him for his Bar Mitzvah. He had intensely studied the Torah, the Hebrew language, spirituality, prayer, the Jewish identity, liturgy, beliefs and holidays for over three years and knew he was ready. But as far as his birthday, Hogan had made it clear to his mother and grandparents he did not want to celebrate his birthday at all. In fact, he refused to celebrate another birthday until his father was back home. When his mother told him he couldn't just 'cancel' his birthday, Robert told her he wasn't canceling it forever; just until his father came home, and then he would resume celebrating it again. But because the Bar Mitzvah was important to his mother, all his relatives and family, along with members of the synagogue, Hogan decided he would put a smile on his face, act excited, and pretend he was very, very happy just to please his mother, while inside, his heart would be broken.

He didn't see or hear his mother appear and sit down beside him on the steps. Putting a hand on her son's back, she massaged his back in circular motions.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Her son turned his dark eyes upward to her. She couldn't get over how much her eldest son looked like his father; the same piercing brown eyes, the thick ebony hair, same handsome looks, that charming smile. It was like looking at a much younger version of her husband. She knew her son would be a charmer when it came to the ladies when he was older. The thought made her smile faintly.

"I miss dad," he said softly. He then leaned his head against her arm.

"So do I, sweetheart. So do I." Sandra said softly with a sigh as she looked in the distance. "We can only pray that he will come home to us soon alive and safe." She took in and let out a deep breath. "But tomorrow is an important day for you. You can at least try and be happy."

Robert forced a small smile to appear. "I will, mom," was all he said.

Hogan, moving around on his bed, turned onto his side without waking, the pain medication still working.

Somehow he had gotten through the entire ceremony easily, smiling when he was supposed to and looking happier than ever. But when he was alone, or at least certain he wasn't being watched, the tears threatened to roll down his cheeks. Several times already he found himself taking deep breaths and collecting himself in order to continue. He knew as the 'man' of the house he couldn't cry like a baby, but it was hard. But this was the life he was born into; the life of a military family. For his mother and father he would be strong and not show his true feelings; those he would keep buried. He would never let anybody see what he was really feeling.

He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and looked around. It was his mother and she was beaming at him. Kissing the top of his head, she then smoothed his dark hair. "Your father would be so proud of you right now," she said softly so only he could hear. "But then again, he was always proud of you no matter what."

Looking up at his mother, all young Robert could do was smile despite his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Hogan turned on his bed again as a small smile appeared, but still he wasn't aware he was smiling while continuing to sleep.

Everybody was having a good time at the following reception held at the Hogan home. To young Robert he didn't know several of the people there for they had not been at the Bar Mitzvah. But they were family friends of his grandparents and of his mother so he didn't really mind. He received many gifts from these people: a pen set from one of his friends, a prayer shawl from his grandparents, his own copy of the Torah which was kept inside an 'ark' (2) from his Uncle Jacob. He also received war bonds from several people in multiples of $18.00. And he loved and was grateful for each one. But to him, the best present was from his father who he discovered, had selected it before he left to serve. Young Robert eagerly opened the small box as people watched. His face broke out in a wide smile as he gazed at the contents. Inside was a gold Star-of-David pendant on a matching chain along with a small gift card which read: 'To my son, Robert, on his proud day of becoming a man. All my love, your Dad.'

Young Robert couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks as he held the chain with it's glistening pendant on the end in his hand. He quickly undid the clasp and put it on around his neck swearing he would never take it off no matter what. He looked up into his mother's face showing it off proudly. She hugged him tightly against her; she knew in her heart that although her son loved all the gifts he had received the one from his father meant more than anything because it had come from his father. He hugged his mother as they both thought the same thing: maybe today would be a happy day after-all.

Hogan awoke with a start and winced as his body protested against the sudden movement. He hurt all over. Leaning up on one elbow he massaged his forehead. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he hurt like he did. Then a few seconds later he remembered.

Guthrie! He had pounded on him in a cell. The last thing Hogan recalled was Guthrie having his fist drawn back ready to hit him when something, or was it someone, stopped him.

"Mon Colonel?" said a low voice close by.

"LeBeau? Is that you?" Hogan asked trying to focus. Finally, he saw the little Frenchman sitting at his desk facing the bed, watching him.

"Oui, Colonel. How are you feeling?"

"Like the Sixth Panzer Brigade just ran over me. What happened? My mind's a bit foggy at the moment."

"How much do you remember?" asked LeBeau.

"Let's see…." Hogan said stifling a yawn as he struggled into a sitting position, his body protesting each movement. Finally, he had his feet on the floor. "…I remember Guthrie had me in a cell in the cooler and him coming to question me. I was handcuffed at the time. I guess he didn't like my answers or something because he started beating me. Everything's kind of fuzzy from then on."

"Guthrie was preparing to beat you with his fist when Klink stopped him. He got you out of that cell and had Sergeant Weber get Kinch and Sergeant Wilson."

"Wait. Our Klink? Bald head? Monocle? That Klink? He stopped Guthrie?"

LeBeau grinned. "Oui, Colonel. That Klink. Weber told us later he threatened to set General Burkhalter and Major Hochstetter on him if he didn't release you immediately."

Hogan chuckled. "Well, what do you know. Who'd think the old Iron Eagle had it in him?" He started to get up but staggered and fell back onto the bed in a sitting position.

Okay, Hogan. That wasn't too smart. Let's try this again more slowly this time. Hogan slowly started to rise, and with LeBeau's help, managed to get to his feet. He then waved the Frenchman away as he tried standing on his own.

"You really should stay in bed, Colonel. Wilson said you should rest. He managed to get you out of evening roll call with Klink."

"Roll call?" Hogan checked his watch. It was 1700 hours. "It's five p.m.?" he said in amazement. "How long was I asleep?"

"Nearly six hours."

Just then Hogan heard his stomach rumble. "LeBeau, how soon before dinner? I didn't have breakfast or lunch and I'm starved."

LeBeau sighed. "Not for another hour and-a-half. But I can fix you a sandwich to tide you over. And there is still some coffee left."

"Sounds good." Hogan stiffly started to walk to the door and LeBeau reached out to help him. But Hogan shook him off; he wanted to do it himself. It was important to him and the Frenchman knew it. As he grabbed the doorknob he glanced back at LeBeau. "Just out of curiosity, LeBeau. What are you doing in here? I mean, it's not like I was in danger of dying and needed a babysitter or anything."

LeBeau shrugged. "I know, Colonel. But I wanted to do it. I had to see for myself that you were all right, and thought someone should stay and keep watch in case you needed something."

Hogan found he could only shake his head as he turned the doorknob. As he did so, he fingered the Star-of-David hanging around his neck and smiled as he thought back momentarily to the day he received it from the man who meant more to him than anybody in the entire world other than his mother. His eyes misted over. LeBeau noticed.

"Something wrong, mon Colonel?" he asked, worried.

"No, LeBeau," Hogan said. "I was just recalling the day I received this…." he lifted the pendant out from inside his shirt. "…and the man who gave it to me even though he wasn't there to give it to me in person." He tucked it back inside his shirt as he opened the door and slowly entered the common room with LeBeau behind him, keeping a wary eye on his commanding officer. Newkirk, Carter and Kinch were all seated at the table playing gin when they heard the door to Hogan's quarters open and saw their commander appear. Carter quickly got to his feet, snatched Hogan's coffee cup from the table and filled it with the warm left over coffee and handed it to Hogan who gratefully accepted it as he slowly sat down. He took a drink of the coffee and smiled contentedly.

"Thanks, Carter," Hogan said. Then, he looked between Kinch and Newkirk. "Who's with the von Herwarths?"

"Olsen's with them, sir," said Kinch. "How do you feel, Colonel?"

Hogan took another drink of coffee. "I've felt better, believe me. Kinch, did you speak with London and give them the info I asked you to earlier?"

"Yes, sir." Kinch removed the small notebook from inside his jacket pocket and flipped it open. "London wasn't crazy about von Herwarth not having the journal with him, nor were they crazy about him issuing ultimatums. But because of the info he's supposedly got in that journal, they agreed to his demand. They said because of Mrs. von Herwarth's condition, they will send a plane for her in forty-eight hours. We're to have her at the usual rendezvous place for the pick-up at 2100 hours."

"Okay. Kinch, get in touch with the underground. Twenty-four hours before the plane is due, you and Carter will escort Mrs. von Herwarth to the usual rendezvous place and hand her over to the underground. They can then hide her and escort her the following night to the secret airfield. Once we have confirmation she's been picked up by the plane and is en-route to London, I'll have von Herwarth take me to where he's hidden the journal. Any questions?"

"Sir, Carter and I can escort her to the airfield," Kinch pointed out tucking the notebook back in his pocket.

Hogan shook his head. "No way. With Guthrie around, I don't want to take a chance of having you guys outside this camp any longer than necessary." He started to scratch his cheek and felt the cut. "Where did I get a cut on my cheek from?" He glanced at his men as LeBeau placed a plate with a sandwich in front of Hogan.

"That cut was courtesy of Guthrie's belt, Colonel," LeBeau said. "But not to worry. Wilson said it would go away and not leave a permanent scar." The Frenchman knew the Colonel was proud of his good looks.

"Wilson said he'd be back later to check on you," Carter chimed in.

"I must remember to thank Guthrie for this," Hogan said just before taking a bite of his sandwich. After chewing and swallowing he looked over at LeBeau. "This tastes like beef."

"It is, mon Colonel," LeBeau said with a smile sitting down with both arms on the table.

"I'm not even going to ask where it came from. To quote Schultz, I know nothing." He took another bite.

Newkirk took a sip of his coffee. "Gov'nor, what about Guthrie? Seems to me he went overboard today by assaulting you. And for someone who's suppose to be on our side…" he didn't finish.

"I know, and I've been thinking about that. If I had doubts about Guthrie before, I have even more now. I realize an underground operative from time to time has to do things that are unpleasant to maintain his or her cover and avoid suspicion like our friend, Morrison. But what Guthrie did went far beyond that."(3)

"So what are we gonna do about 'im, boy, I mean, sir?" asked Carter.

Hogan let out a deep breath. "Carter, when I go with von Herwarth to pick up the journal, we're going to get rid of Guthrie at the same time and use von Herwarth to do it."

(1) According to Judaism 101, a Jewish boy automatically becomes a bar mitzvah at the age of 13. A ceremony is not necessary to confer these rights and obligations however. Bar Mitzvah is the age when a person is held responsible for his moral and religious duties and his father, at this service, traditionally recites the blessing thanking God for removing the burden of being responsible for the son's sins.

(2) These were typical gifts given to the celebrant at the reception following the service. The 'ark' is a box.

(3) Robert J. Morrison aka Major Hans Teppel is from Bad Day in Berlin, Season four.