**There is some derogatory language in this chapter because of the time period involved and this language unfortunately was used. I also want to thank Sue for her help with the research for this chapter.**
Chapter 15---The Easy Part
Before Hogan and his men returned to barracks two, the Colonel sent Carter to barracks twelve to get Wilson. The men followed their commander and Corporal Grossman inside.
"Colonel, I don't need to see Sergeant Wilson," Grossman said wearily.
"Humor me, Corporal," Hogan said pouring himself a cup of coffee. He took a drink and made a face after discovering the coffee was cold. LeBeau immediately grabbed the coffee pot from the pot-belly stove and after rinsing it out, filled it with fresh water from the sink and put it back on the stove. He looked around when the barracks door opened and Carter entered, followed by Wilson who was carrying his medical bag.
"Carter said somebody in barracks two needed my services, Colonel?" he asked looking at Hogan.
"Yeah, Joe. Major Guthrie struck Corporal Grossman here pretty hard across the face. I just want to make sure he's all right. You can use my quarters."
Sighing, Grossman got up and trudged towards Hogan's quarters with Wilson following closing the door behind him. Hogan rested a foot on the bench with his men sitting at the table. Hogan took another drink of cold coffee; his face was unreadable.
"Something wrong, sir?" asked Newkirk.
"I wish you guys had stayed out of it instead of going to Klink and then coming with him to the cooler. Somebody could've gotten hurt badly." Hogan knew his voice sounded harsher than he meant it to, and he didn't want his men to get the wrong idea. "But Corporal Grossman and I are both grateful. Thank you for what you fellas did."
"We did the only thing we could think of, Colonel," said LeBeau. "If that hadn't worked, we would have stormed the cooler to get you and Corporal Grossman out."
"I'm grateful it didn't come to that," replied Hogan. He turned at the sound of the door to his quarters opening, and saw Wilson and Grossman walking out.
"Well?" Hogan asked, removing his foot from the bench.
"He's fine, Colonel. Nothing serious." Wilson patted Grossman on the shoulder. "Just get some rest, Corporal."
"Yes, sir," Grossman replied. He then smiled at Hogan. "If it had been just me he was threatening I wouldn't have told him anything, Colonel. But when he threatened you I…" The Corporal stopped when Hogan put a hand on his shoulder.
"Corporal, our operation is more important than any one man in this camp. Remember that. Even if my life is threatened too many other lives depend on us. This operation can continue without me; just keep that in mind if you ever find yourself in a similar situation."
"But Colonel…."
"No buts Corporal."
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You'd better get back to your barracks."
"Yes, sir." Grossman saluted Hogan before he turned and left the barracks at the same time Sergeant Garlotti walked in. Hogan then noticed that Wilson was staring at him.
"Something I can do for you, Joe?" the Colonel asked innocently with raised eyebrows.
"You can let me examine your wrists, Colonel," Wilson said. Noticing the Colonel looking at him as if he had no idea what he was talking about, Wilson folded his arms. "Corporal Grossman told me about the handcuffs on your wrists being too tight." He motioned with his arm towards the Colonel's open door of his quarters. "After you, sir."
Hogan rolled his eyes, exasperated. "There's no need to examine me. I'm fine."
"I'll be the judge of that, Colonel. Now, we can do this in one of three ways. We can go to the privacy of your office, we can do it out here in the common room in front of everybody, or I can sedate you and examine your wrists. The choice is up to you, sir." Wilson's stance told Hogan the medic wasn't going to budge.
"You wouldn't dare," Hogan stated in his best authoritative tone.
"Try me," Wilson retorted with a wry grin.
Hogan shook his head, slightly annoyed. "Fine," he said. "Let's go into my quarters and get this over with. I have things to do." He headed into his quarters with Wilson following. The door closed behind them.
"Blimey, I've never seen the Colonel so angry," Newkirk commented.
"Neither have I," LeBeau agreed. "I'm just glad it's not at us."
Newkirk stuck a cigarette in his mouth. "I'll tell you one thing, mate" he said lighting the cigarette, "This Guthrie or Rochet or whatever he wants to call himself really stepped over the line this time. I guarantee you there's no way the Gov'nor's gonna believe anything he says now if he even did before this."
"One thing the Colonel is…." Kinch began folding his arms. "…is very protective of the men under his command."
Just then the barracks door opened causing the men to look around to see a weary Colonel Klink walk in. He closed the door.
"Can we help you with something, Kommandant?" asked Kinch.
"Where is Colonel Hogan, Sergeant Kinchloe?" Klink asked. The men noticed even his voice sounded just as tired as the Kommandant looked.
"He's in his quarters being examined by Sergeant Wilson, sir," LeBeau explained. He smiled . "Sir, we just want to say merci for saving the Colonel and Corporal Grossman from that maniac and for releasing the other prisoners."
Klink momentarily looked puzzled. "Merci? Oh, you're welcome. There's no need to thank me. I couldn't let that maniac, I mean Major Guthrie, torture Colonel Hogan and Corporal Grossman further."
It was then the door to Hogan's quarters opened and Wilson, followed by Hogan who still looked angry, emerged. They both saw Klink standing by the table.
"Kommandant," Wilson said with an amused grin.
"How is the Colonel?" asked LeBeau, worried.
"He's fine. His wrists are a bit raw, but they'll be all right." Wilson quietly left the barracks.
Hogan rested a foot on the bench and looked at Klink. "Kommandant, thank you for stopping Guthrie."
"You don't have to thank me, Hogan. I just wanted to see how you were. How is Corporal Grossman?"
"Grossman's fine, no damage done. What can we do for you, Kommandant?"
"I just wanted to check on the prisoners for what may be the last time," Klink said glumly as he slowly collapsed on the bench. Hogan and the men exchanged confused looks.
"Last time, sir?" asked Hogan with an arched eyebrow. "You going somewhere?"
"Maybe to the Russian front, I don't really know. It depends on what Major Guthrie does."
Hogan let out a deep breath hearing the name. "Start at the beginning, Kommandant."
"When I stopped Major Guthrie in the cooler earlier it was the second time I interfered with his uh, interrogations. He warned me after the first time not to interfere again. Then I stopped him this time in the cooler. He told me he was going to contact the Fuhrer about me interfering in a Gestapo investigation."
Hogan chuckled and then stopped when he saw Klink look up at him.
"I'm glad you find this so amusing, Hogan," Klink said, upset. "I'm possibly on my way to the Russian front or maybe being shot, and you're laughing."
"I'm sorry, Kommandant," said Hogan forcing himself not to smirk. "But Guthrie is jerking your chain."
"Jerking my chain? What are you saying?"
"What I'm saying, sir, is that there's no way Guthrie can contact old fruitcake," he noticed Klink's expression, "Sorry. He's only a Major. Good luck with him trying to make contact with the big boys. Now if he was Burkhalter I'd worry. But Guthrie, he's trying to scare you with empty threats, Kommandant."
Klink mulled over the American's words. "You mean he's just making threats he hopes I'll believe so I won't interfere anymore?"
Hogan, smiling, nodded his head. He saw Klink's expression change from one of panic to one of anger.
"You're right, Hogan. How dare he threaten Wilhelm Klink!" The Kommandant slowly stood up. "Nobody threatens Wilhelm Klink."
"Yes, sir," Hogan said with a smirk he could no longer hide. "How dare he threaten the Iron Eagle." He glanced at his men who were trying not to laugh. "I wouldn't worry about Guthrie, Kommandant. If he oversteps his bounds anymore all you have to do is contact General Burkhalter who will contact his good buddy Himmler, and that will be the end of one insignificant Gestapo Major."
Klink nodded in agreement with what Hogan said. "I'll show him nobody messes with Colonel Klink."
"I'm sure you will, Kommandant," Hogan remarked as he gently guided Klink towards the barracks door. "Don't let him scare you, sir. Just remember, his bark is worse than his bite." Hogan opened the door. "Thanks for stopping by, sir."
"Don't mention it, Hogan. I just wanted to make sure Major Guthrie didn't do any permanent damage to you or Corporal Grossman." He started out the door, paused, and turned around. "Oh Hogan, two more things. First, Major Guthrie seems to have it in for you for some reason. He says you told him you had been contacted by this von Herwarth fellow and a meeting had been set up. Is there any truth to that accusation, Hogan?"
The Colonel grinned like a Cheshire cat and laughed. "I was amazed how easily he bought that story, sir. Boy, those Gestapo Majors sure are gullible. Watch it around Guthrie, sir. I don't trust him. He's got a couple of screws loose. What's the other thing?"
"I will, Hogan. And I suggest you do the same. Oh, don't worry about the work detail right now. I don't want you outside the camp while the Major's here. You'd be at his mercy outside the wire."
"Whatever you say, Colonel."
Klink turned and walked away with Hogan closing the door behind him. With a sigh, he returned to the table where his men were still seated.
"Colonel, we still on for tonight?" asked Carter.
"We are, Carter," Hogan replied. He checked his watch. "When you and Kinch leave tonight, just keep alert and don't hang around. Come straight back here after you deliver Mrs. von Herwarth to the underground."
"Sure thing, Colonel," Kinch replied.
Newkirk let out a deep breath. "Colonel, what are we gonna do about this Guthrie character? I mean, like ole Klink said, he's got it in for you."
Hogan put a foot back on the bench and rested his arms on his thigh. "I hate to do this, but underground operative or not, we have to get rid of him."
Kinch and Carter, dressed in their 'blacks' were checking their weapons when Hogan appeared just outside the changing room. Von Herwarth and his wife were seated nearby watching.
"You guys ready?" Hogan asked looking at both men.
"As ready as we're going to be, boy, I mean Colonel," Carter said apologetically as he and Kinch stuck their pistols in the back of their waistbands. After checking his watch, Hogan glanced at Christina von Herwarth.
"It's time," he announced with a deep sigh. He stood back and turned his head away slightly as Christina and her husband stood and held each other tightly. It reminded him of the many times he had to say goodbye to Tiger when they had to part; he sighed. Kissing her husband passionately Christina then looked deep into his eyes. "Make sure you get to London," she said with eyes glistening. "Our child needs his or her father."
"I'll be there. I promise," von Herwarth told her with a squeeze of her hand. He then watched as she walked away with Carter and Kinch in the direction of the ladder leading to the tree stump. Von Herwarth sighed and collapsed onto the bench and hung his head. Hogan approached and stood in front of the man.
"She'll be all right," Hogan said gently. Von Herwarth raised his head and looked at the American. "We're experts in getting people out of Germany."
"So I've heard, Colonel," von Herwarth sighed sadly. "Colonel Hogan, I saw your face a few minutes ago when Christina and I were saying goodbye. There is someone in your life about whom you feel the same way, ja?"
Hogan, hooking his thumbs in the side pockets of his jacket, sighed. "There is," was all he said.
"Then you understand you never stop worrying until they are safe."
Hogan chewed his lower lip for a few seconds. "So true. Get some rest. As soon as we get confirmation your wife is en-route to London we'll let you know. Then, you and I are going to retrieve your journal."
"Thank you, Colonel Hogan." He watched as Hogan turned and walked back in the direction of the ladder leading upstairs and climbed up and into the barracks.
LeBeau and Newkirk were playing gin and looked up into Hogan's face as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He then stood facing the table and with one hand tapped the coffee cup. "I wish I felt better about Kinch and Carter going out tonight, especially with Guthrie prowling around the camp."
"They'll be all right, sir," Newkirk assured his commanding officer. They knew Hogan always worried when his men were outside the wire without him.
"Oui, mon Colonel. They wouldn't dare get into trouble and then have to face you when they get back."
Hogan chuckled as he took a drink of coffee. "I know, I know. But with Guthrie in camp nothing is assured. He could pop in here at any time having ordered Klink to hold a surprise roll call or inspection, and we'd be two men short. Try explaining that to Guthrie." He took another drink of coffee.
Hogan looked at his watch again out of habit. "I'll be in my quarters. Let me know when Kinch and Carter get back."
"Yes, sir," Newkirk replied as he laid down his cards on the table. "Gin."
Shaking his head, LeBeau groaned as he threw his cards on the table.
Alone in his office with the desk lamp on, Hogan began pacing back and forth. He was worried about two of his men being out of camp right now; especially with Guthrie being as unpredictable as he was.
'There is someone in your life about whom you feel the same way, ja?'
Hogan stopped pacing and took a drink of coffee. He did feel the same way about Tiger that von Herwarth felt about his wife. He knew how it felt to have to part from her and worry about her just as he knew she did him. But the waiting and worrying also reminded him of another time in his life.
It had been weeks since his mother had received the telegram informing her that her husband was missing in action. It didn't escape young Robert that his mother cried herself to sleep nightly just as he did. He tried to be as much comfort to her as he could, but at thirteen there was only so much he could do. He also helped out as much as he could with his brothers and sisters who were also acutely aware something was terribly wrong and had their mother in tears and depressed. Being the 'man' of the house was not an easy thing for a thirteen-year-old.
Needing a break from worrying about his family, young Robert decided one warm, sunny day to take a walk, go to the park, and find his favorite spot to sit down and read. About ten blocks from his home was his favorite park. When he entered, he just walked around slowly kicking at the grass beneath his shoes. He wished his father was here with him and missed their many weekends when they would come to this same park and toss the football around, or play catch. They sometimes even just sat down and talked about life, growing up, and life as a military officer. There were so many questions young Robert had about what life as an Army officer was like and what was expected of an officer.
As Hogan neared the tree under which he and his father usually sat down to have their talks, he noticed a young negro child sitting under his tree crying. Hogan wasn't sure but the youngster looked either the same age as he or a bit younger than him. Concerned, he approached the youngster and knelt in front of him. Looking up at him the youngster looked afraid of him.
"Hi, my name's Robert Hogan. What's your name and how old are you?"
The youngster wiped his face and sniffled. "Jonathan. Jonathan Mitchell. I'm eleven," he said. "I haven't got anything else for you to take."
Hogan's eyes narrowed. "Why would I take anything from you? It wouldn't be right for me to take something that doesn't belong to me. Why? Did somebody take something from you?"
Jonathan nodded and pointed to a nearby group of three white boys about Hogan's age tossing a football around. "I accidentally wandered too far from my side of the park, and ran into them. They took my football and called me a bad name."
Hogan looked over at the trio. "Why did they do that?" he asked still watching them.
Jonathan didn't answer which caused Hogan to look back at him. "Don't be afraid. You can tell me. Now tell me what happened?"
"The one in the red shirt called me a nigger and said niggers don't deserve to have a new football and he took it."
Hogan looked over at the boys again. "Oh he did, did he?" he said standing up. He handed Jonathan his book. "Watch this for me; I'll be right back." Hogan then marched over to where the trio was laughing. He immediately approached the boy in the red shirt whom he knew was named Billy, and didn't like particularly. "I understand you have something that doesn't belong to you," he said. "I suggest you hand it over so I can give it back to its rightful owner."
Billy was tossing the football in the air and catching it. He smirked. "And what are you going to do about it if I don't, Jew?"
Hogan balled his fists as the anger started building. He was aware that Negroes were segregated and he didn't agree with it at all. Also, he really didn't want to fight a boy who was a bit larger than him, but what he did to Jonathan was wrong in every way. He stood tall. "Just this," Hogan said as he drew back his fist and delivered a punch so quickly that Billy didn't have a chance to react before finding himself on his backside on the ground, stunned. He looked up at Hogan rubbing his jaw.
"You hit me," he complained.
Hogan didn't answer. Instead, he bent down to retrieve the football. But before he could pick it up, Billy pounced on him from behind. During the next few minutes fists flew as the two boys rolled around on the ground while the other two boys ran off. After nearly five minutes, Hogan had Billy pinned down on the ground; the bigger boy struggling.
"Get off of me, Jew!" he shouted, wiggling. "Get off of me!"
"I'll get off of you," Hogan said in a voice that made Billy stop wiggling around and look at Hogan. "But I suggest you don't try anything. I'm also going to take back that football you stole from Jonathan and I suggest you leave him alone. If I hear of you bothering him again, I'll deck you again. Understand?"
Billy nodded figuring he'd best cut his losses. Hogan got to his feet and allowed Billy to get up. He wiped the blood from his nose and ran away. Watching him leave, Hogan reached down, picked up the football, and walked back to where he saw Jonathan still standing under the tree with a slight smile on his young face. Hogan handed him his football; Jonathan handed him his book.
"Thanks, Robert," he said with a grin. "You were terrific. Nobody ever stood up for me before other than my parents." He then frowned as he examined his new friend. "Boy, your clothes are all dirty and your right eye is turning black."
Looking down at his clothes Hogan brushed himself off and then touched his right eye. A broad smile appeared. He was proud of this black eye because he had stood up for something he didn't like the moment he met Jonathan; and that was racial prejudice. He hated the fact that a person would be picked on because his skin was a different color. He swore to himself when he grew up and became a man, he would never let anybody tell him who he could be friends with nor allow someone to be discriminated against just because of race or religion. He noticed Jonathan smiling at him.
"Thanks again, Robert," Jonathan said excitedly before turning and running off.
Hogan massaged his forehead with his fingers. He hadn't thought about Jonathan in years, and wondered what he was doing and where he was now. He took in and let out a deep breath as he looked towards the heavens. "I kept my promise," he said softly. "And as long as I'm Senior POW officer here nobody will ever segregate my men because of race or religion."