Chapter 19-Truth Be Told

"Say that again?" asked Kinch as he and the others sat down again.

"I said Christina is not my wife. She's Guthrie's."

"You want to explain that, mate?" asked a puzzled Newkirk. "You married a Kraut's wife?"

"Not exactly. Christina is Jewish; always has been. Her parents were killed in an accident when she was seven years old, and she was sent to live with her grandparents. She…she was engaged to marry a friend of mine that I introduced her to and her grandparents were throwing them an engagement party when Guthrie just showed up at the party. Nobody had the nerve to ask him to leave. I guess he was curious about so many Jewish people gathering at a home in the neighborhood he lived in."

"Her grandparents invited a bloody Gestapo officer to stay at her engagement party?" asked Newkirk with wide disbelieving eyes.

"Nein," von Herwarth continued. "Although he came in plain clothes, everybody knew he was with the Gestapo at the time. Christina's grandparents suspected he was interested in her and only showed up at the party for two reasons; one was to see Christina, the other was to check out her fiancée and any family members of his who were attending. I wasn't able to attend that night, but I later found out when he saw Christina at the party, he approached her and told her she would marry him instead of my friend so she better get use to the idea. I guess he had decided he wanted her for himself because a few days later, he went to her apartment in Stuttgart and told her he knew everything about her, her fiancée, and both families. He went on to explain that he was going to make her his wife and she would do well to perform her wifely duties once married, or he would send her grandparents, her soon-to-be ex-fiancée and his entire family to a labor camp. She laughed at him and told him she was already engaged to be married. It was then he told her he worked for the Gestapo and they were accustomed to getting what they wanted from a person, and he wanted her despite her being Jewish because she would make him look good. She then demanded he leave."

LeBeau smirked. "Lady had guts standing up to the Gestapo like that," he said admiringly.

"Christina always spoke her mind and was not one to give in to threats. That was why she laughed at Guthrie and didn't take him seriously. Then one night, her fiancée and his entire family simply vanished and never seen again. Guthrie contacted Christina and told her they had all been sent to a labor camp as a way of showing her he was serious. He told her she was to marry him immediately, or the next ones to disappear would be her grandparents. I think that was when she became frightened."

"So she married Guthrie," said Kinch. It was more of a statement than a question. He saw von Herwarth nod his head.

"Why didn't she just expose him?" asked Carter, puzzled. "I'm sure his bosses wouldn't have been too happy with one of their own marrying someone of the Jewish faith."

"She was afraid to after what happened to her fiancée and his family. She was afraid he would punish her grandparents if she opened her mouth, plus she herself was Jewish don't forget, so, she kept quiet. He was careful the first year they were married because he didn't want to share her with anybody, not even a child. He didn't want children then and demanded her complete attention be focused on him. He considered her his trophy wife." He massaged his forehead with his fingers. "But a year later he decided she was to give him a child no matter what. As much as she wanted a baby, she did not want one with someone the likes of Guthrie."

"How did you become involved in this equation?" asked Newkirk.

Von Herwarth sighed wearily. "I also lived in Stuttgart at the time, and saw Christina one day in a park I like to go to. She was sitting by herself staring out at a pond with tears running down her face. She and I had been friends for awhile, and I had developed feelings for her even before I introduced her to my friend Michael. I asked her if she needed help and she just started explaining that her husband worked for the Gestapo and was at work at the moment and mistreated her. She was also trying to figure out how not to have a child by him without him knowing. I didn't know what she was talking about because Michael never worked and would never work for the Gestapo; he was a teacher at a major German University. She wanted to get away from this man but she was afraid for her family. I asked her to talk to me. That's when she told me about Major Tice Guthrie of the Gestapo and what he had done to Michael and his family, and if she hadn't married him he would have done the same to her and her family. I couldn't believe Michael and his family were in a labor camp somewhere. I agreed to help get her away from this Guthrie and then her family."

"Then what happened?" asked Kinch.

"We went back to her place to let her pack a few things; fortunately her husband wasn't home. But I knew what Guthrie looked like and had seen him on several occasions, and he scared even me so I knew how she felt. I suggested she hurry because he just might show up unexpectedly, but while she was packing the phone rang. She told me her husband called to check on her several times a day and if she didn't answer the phone he would come right home to find out why and demand to know where and with whom she had been. She wanted to answer the phone but I stupidly told her not to because we needed to get away quickly. So we left and I had her move into my parents' home in Erfurt, gave up my own apartment in Stuttgart, and moved in with Christina and my parents. As Stuttgart is 352 km from Erfurt, I figured Guthrie would never look for her there. To make a long story short, we began an affair several months later while we were together and before long she became pregnant. We both knew if her husband ever found out she'd be dead because he would know it wasn't his due to the timing. The same day I had her move in with my parents, I convinced her grandparents to move in with them as well." He shrugged. "We thought we were safe living in Erfurt. In fact, the day the Gestapo broke into my parents' home, Christina and I had just come from her doctor's appointment regarding her pregnancy. We had planned to marry once we got to England. When we got here and Colonel Hogan mentioned this Major Guthrie, we knew he was looking for us after finding out his wife and I were together and on the run."

"So that's why you wanted her out of Germany first," LeBeau said. "It was to keep her safe from Guthrie."

"Ja, exactly. I could not take a chance on him finding her and discovering she was pregnant. He would either kill her, or make sure she lost the baby and make her life hell afterward. I would die happily knowing she was out of his reach and there was no way he could find her."

"And the journal?" asked LeBeau.

"There is a journal. Of that I did not lie. It is safe and hidden where I can get my hands on it. How Guthrie found out about it I have no idea, but he cannot be allowed to find it. It contains information Hitler would not want the world to find out about. That is all I will say about it. So you can see there is no way I would inform or even aid Major Guthrie in hurting your Colonel."

Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau turned to Kinch as he was currently in charge. The radioman let out a deep breath.

"I believe you," he told von Herwarth. "We'll do what we can to get you and the journal out of Germany and to London safely. But I have to tell you something, von Herwarth."

"What's that?" the man asked gently looking at Kinch.

"I don't like you. I assume the other three don't either. You endangered this operation and Colonel Hogan with your lies. If you had been honest with us from the beginning perhaps the Colonel might have found a different way to help you and still get you and Christina out of Germany without him being injured repeatedly by Guthrie. Instead, you chose to lie to him and us."

Von Herwarth bowed his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I never meant to cause any trouble for anybody."

Newkirk, his arms resting on his thighs, rubbed his hands together. "Y'know, mate, you're lucky we don't base whether we help a person on whether or not they tell us the ruddy truth."

Von Herwarth looked at the four men, worried. "So what happens now?"

Kinch sighed. "As I said, we will still try and get you out of Germany. But exactly how will have to be left up to Colonel Hogan. And unfortunately right now he's in the infirmary unconscious. We'll have to wait until he recovers and then bring him up to date on what you've just told us and let him decide what is to be done."

"I thought, Sergeant Kinchloe, that you said when the Colonel is incapacitated you make the decisions?"

"I do. But I would never try to make a decision for the Colonel by keeping things from him. In other words, I will not make a decision on what to do about your situation until we tell the Colonel what you've just told us and let him decide what to do."

"So," LeBeau added coldly. "You will be our guest until such time as we can tell Colonel Hogan what you told us."

"So relax, mate," added Newkirk. "You're gonna be here for a few days."

Kinch glanced around him at the others and got to his feet. He motioned for them to follow him. Before he left he glanced around at von Herwarth. "I suggest you get some rest." He then left with the others. He paused as they stood beside the ladder leading up to the barracks.

"You really believe his story?" asked Newkirk, resting a hand on the rung of the ladder.

"Yeah, I do," Kinch said. "Think about it for a minute. Guthrie is apparently after von Herwarth more for taking his wife away with the journal as a bonus. There's no way knowing Guthrie would kill him the minute he saw him, that he would then help him hurt or possibly kill Colonel Hogan."

"Maybe he made a deal with Guthrie," chimed in Carter with both hands stuck in his pockets. "Maybe Guthrie agreed not to kill him if he snitched on the Colonel."

Kinch looked at the explosives expert. "I seriously doubt it, Carter. The way Guthrie feels about von Herwarth I don't believe he would make any kind of deal with him for anything. Nope. That means only one thing."

LeBeau nodded with a grim expression. "Oui. It means we have a traitor in our midst."

Wilson was asleep in the chair beside Hogan's bed when he heard it. A light sleeper, he rubbed his eyes and looked at his patient. Hogan's eyes were cracked open and looking at him, or at least appeared to be. The medic leaned forward.

"Colonel? How do you feel?" he asked, concerned.

"Tired," the Colonel said, his voice scratchy. "Throat…sore…" he tried to swallow and found it difficult.

"Hold on a minute, sir," Wilson said reaching over and grabbing the glass and pitcher from the night table and poured a glass of fresh water. Mindful of the lump on the back of the Colonel's head, he gently elevated Hogan's head and put the glass to his lips, allowing him access to the water. "Drink slowly, sir."

Hogan took only a few sips of water as he found it difficult to swallow. Indicating he didn't want anymore, Wilson lowered the Colonel's head back onto his pillow. "Take it easy, Colonel. You're gonna be all right."

"Head hurts…"

"You were struck by someone, sir," the medic continued. "You were then given an injection of what appears to have been bee venom." When Hogan didn't answer Wilson looked and noticed Hogan had fallen asleep. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. He was secretly glad his commanding officer had regained consciousness if only for a short time. Wilson grabbed his stethoscope and listened to Hogan's heart and allowed the corners of his mouth to curl upward. He laid the stethoscope on the table and leaned back with a sigh.

"How is he, Joe?" a voice asked from behind the medic causing Wilson to look around. He noticed Kinch standing close behind him, looking concerned. "Sorry if I startled you, but you were busy and I didn't want to interrupt you. So, what's the verdict?"

"He regained consciousness for just a few minutes," the medic explained getting up. "He's sleeping now which is good. His breathing seems to be all right." He looked closely at the radioman. "Are you all right? You look exhausted."

Kinch, hands on hips, shrugged. "I am. It's been a rough night as you can imagine. And I just got some news that I wish I could discuss with the Colonel, but it'll just have to wait."

Wilson could sense the radioman's distress. "Can I help at all? I'm not the Colonel but I'm a good listener."

"I wish you could. But I need the Colonel's advice on this one I'm afraid. Thanks anyway." He motioned with his chin towards Hogan. "How long before the Colonel will be able to carry on a conversation without falling asleep?"

Wilson glanced over his shoulder at the man lying in the bed. "I'd say probably about two or three days. Then I'll see about releasing him back to his quarters where he'll have to take it easy for another week." He looked at Kinch. "Can whatever it is wait for at least two or three days?"

Kinch let out a deep breath. "I guess it'll have to," he said grimly.

To those who were watching, Hogan appeared to be sleeping; but Hogan's mind had drifted back to another time in his life. A time when in November of 1918, he experienced the happiest moment of his young life.

The war had officially ended on November 11, 1918 with the signing of the Armistice. It was a joyous day in the Hogan household because it meant the war was officially over and Colonel Robert Michael Hogan would soon be coming home to his family. But one thing troubled young Robert to no end, and that was would the man who came home be the same man who left in 1917?

They had received a few letters from his father while he was interred in the POW camp in Villingen, Germany, but most of his letters were censored so they had to interpret what he was saying or trying to say in them.(1) But Hogan had been able to determine that his father appeared to be the Senior officer among all the prisoners in the camp, and the only other officer there was a young Naval Lieutenant named Isaacs.(2) Other than that, his father said he was recovering nicely from his recent illness, one of several he had suffered since being captured. But he always assured his family he was all right; he missed and loved them, and couldn't wait until the war was over and come home to them. Yet despite his father's assurances he was fine, young Robert sensed there was something his father wasn't telling them in his infrequent letters; and it both worried and frightened him. But there was nothing he could do about it. The last letter was dated September 10, 1918; and it would be the last letter they would receive before that day in early November.

Then on November 11, 1918, the Armistice, officially ending the fighting, was signed.(3) The war was over!

Robert was ecstatic. All he knew was that his father would be coming home where he belonged. He sat on the steps of his home, arms wrapped around his legs with a happy look on his face as he looked around. His father would be home soon and everything would be fine again. Blinking away tears, Robert looked upward towards the heavens.

"Thank you," he murmured softly with the corners of his mouth curling upward. He fingered the Star-of-David pendant hanging around his neck, finally clutching the pendant tightly in his hand. He then looked at a spot on the sidewalk in front of him and wiped his eyes with the back of his other hand. He then felt somebody sitting beside him on the steps and looking up saw his smiling mother beside him, her eyes bright with tears. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed him against her body, her head resting on her son's head.

"I feel the same as you, sweetie," she said, a tremble in her voice. "I can't wait until your father walks through the front door."

"I just hope this time he stays for a long time, mom," Robert said. "I'd really like dad to be with us and never have to leave us again."

"So do I, honey," Sandra replied as she gently rocked her son. "I also hope there will be no more wars to take him away from us."

Hogan's eyes cracked open and tried to focus again. "Kinch?" he said hoarsely. Had he heard his second-in-command's voice or did he imagine it? He wasn't sure. He just felt so damned exhausted.

"Colonel?" a familiar voice asked causing the Colonel to move his eyes in the direction of the voice even though the movement made his head hurt like hell. He was faintly aware of someone sitting in the chair beside the bed looking at him. "How do you feel?" the voice did belong to Kinch.

"Water…." was all Hogan could utter; his throat hurting just to get the word out.

Wilson, who was close by, poured half a glass of water and handed it to Kinch who gently raised the Colonel's head and putting the glass to his lips, watched him drink slowly.

"Don't push yourself, Colonel," Kinch said. "Drink as much as you can. I know your throat is probably sore right now."

Swallowing painfully, Hogan turned his head away and closed his eyes. "No…more…" he said as his voice trailed off. Kinch gently laid his head on the pillow while at the same time sitting the glass on the table beside his chair.

"You're gonna be okay, sir," Kinch said, worried. He doubted the Colonel had even heard him as he appeared to have fallen asleep. He looked over his shoulder at the medic.

The telegram arrived a week after Hanukah but weeks before the welcoming of the new year. Young Robert hastily ripped open the envelope, removed the telegram, read it, and then read it again. It was from his father informing his family he hoped to be home by New Year's day.

"MOM!" Hogan shouted running through the house looking for his mother who he finally found outside in the back sweeping a light dusting of snow off the back steps. "Mom, it's from dad!" He held out the telegram. Sandra wiped her hands on her apron before she took the telegram from her son and read it. She covered her mouth with one hand as the tears ran down her face. Excited, she and her son hugged each other tightly. As they hugged, the other children, hearing the commotion, ran outside to find out what was going on.

"Today is the sixteenth of December," she said. We must have everything ready by the end of the week. I want each of you to clean your rooms and keep them clean from now until your father returns. I'll also need all of you to help with the housework. I want to have everything perfect for your father's homecoming."

Robert pulled back from his mother. "Mom, I sure hope dad comes home by New Year's Day. It could be the best gift any of us could have." All of the children wrapped their arms around their mother just as she wrapped her arms around each of them, hugging them close.

Despite his joy at having his father home soon, young Robert still couldn't erase the gut feeling that his father was hiding a terrible secret and only time would tell what it was.

Hogan got his wish towards the end of 1918; his father arrived home the day of New Year's eve. He had been looking out the window every day beginning the twenty-third of December until he spotted a cab pull up to the curb outside the house.

"MOM, DAD'S HOME!" he shouted as he ran to the door, yanked it open and raced outside just as his father stepped out of the cab's rear passenger seat. Seeing his eldest racing towards him, Colonel Hogan dropped down on one knee and hugged his son as he flew into his arms and wrapped his arms around his father's neck as the cab slowly pulled away. The Colonel let tears roll down his face as he held his son tightly against him; then he noticed his wife and other children hurrying in his direction over his shoulder. Releasing his eldest son, he struggled to his feet just in time for his wife to fling herself into his arms. Holding her tightly, the two kissed passionately as the other kids waited impatiently for their turn to greet their father. All the while, young Robert stood back and studied his father.

His father was thinner than he remembered as was his hair; in fact, his uniform now hung loosely on him. He also looked older than he remembered. But to top it off, he didn't look well either. As his father released his mother and again knelt down to greet his younger children, young Robert also noticed his father had dark lines under his eyes, and his face was thin and gaunt. There was some gray hairs sprouting out around his temples that hadn't been there when Robert last saw his father. In fact, the Colonel looked years older. Out the corner of his eyes, the Colonel spotted his eldest son staring at him.

"Something wrong, son?" he asked, his voice was even weak.

"Are you all right, dad?" Robert asked. "You don't look the same."

Hogan's father let out a deep breath as he stood up and put an arm around his wife's slender waist. He noticed his father had trouble getting to his feet as if something was wrong with one leg. Also, he was moving stiffly. "Being a prisoner-of-war wasn't easy, son. And I know you, your mother, and the others have questions, and I promise when and if I'm up to it, I'll let everybody know what happened after being shot down and captured. But not now. Right now, I'd just like to go inside, relax, and spend time with my family whom I missed very, very much." Then, with their arms looped around each other's waists, the Colonel and his wife walked slowly into their home with their children trailing behind them with the exception of young Robert, who stood where he was watching his parents and siblings go inside. His father was limping very noticeably. He was more positive now than ever that something was wrong with his father; and while it was obvious his father was not the same man he was before he left, there was something else that he couldn't put a finger on, and afraid of what it might be.

"Dad…." Hogan mumbled softly in his sleep as he shifted just a bit in the bed. "Dad…what's…wrong?"

Wilson, alone in the infirmary since Kinch had departed, approached the bed and leaned over his patient. "Colonel? Did you say something?"

Hogan didn't respond. Instead, he winced from what the medic thought was pain from the raised lump on the back of his head. He had no way of knowing the pain was from something much deeper.

(1) Many U.S. flyers were placed in a POW camp at Villingen, a short distance from Germany's border with Switzerland. Information from The National Museum of the US Air Force,

(2) Edouard Victor Michel Isaacs was born in Cresco, Iowa. In mid-1917 he was assigned to the USS President Lincoln, a former German passenger liner then fitted out as a troop transport. During that year he received a temporary promotion of Lieutenant with it becoming a permanent grade in 1918. When the President Lincoln was torpedoed and sunk by a German submarine on May 31, 1918, Lt. Isaacs was captured and taken to Germany. It was during this trip that he gathered information on enemy submarines he believed would be of great value to the Allied war effort. Determined to get this information to the US Navy, he made several unsuccessful escape attempts including one while imprisoned at Karlsruhe in early July, 1918 and another shortly afterward in which while en-route to a POW camp at Villingen from Karlsruhe, he hurled himself through the window of a moving train car and was quickly recaptured, badly beaten, and spent about three weeks in solitary confinement. Regaining his strength after more than two months at Villingen, he escaped from the camp and walked a long walk to the border, swam across the Rhine River, and reached Switzerland on October 13. It was several days later he arrived in Paris and from there went on to London where he gave his information to the US and British Navy. Oddly enough, he returned to the United States arriving in Washington on November 11, 1918.

(3) The Armistice was signed on November 11, 1918, officially ending the fighting. The Treaty of Versailles was signed June 29, 1919 officially concluding the peace treaty.