Chapter 26---The Final Straw
The cell door opened and Hogan was shoved forward. The one guard then shoved him in the direction of the bunk on which he fell on. Noticing the other guard had a pistol pressed against Baker's head, the Colonel didn't resist as his guard unlocked one of the cuffs, looped the chain around the bed frame, and re-cuffed his wrist. He then stepped back. The other guard shoved Baker inside so hard that he fell against the bunk and promptly slid to the floor. He and Hogan exchanged looks that needed no spoken words.
Metzger glanced at the two guards. "Leave us. I won't be needing you anymore." He watched as the two guards saluted, turned, and exited the cell closing the door behind them. Then with a smirk, he looked down at both men. "If I remember correctly the last time we were here, we were interrupted by the Kommandant. But I've taken steps this time to make sure that doesn't happen."
"I suspected you were behind Klink suddenly being called to Berlin," Hogan replied, his voice now scratchy and his breathing becoming difficult.
Metzger grinned as he removed his cap and his outer coat and carefully laid them on a nearby bench. "I don't want to get blood on them. I sure you can understand that."
"I understand you're nuts, Metzger," Hogan replied. "Look, your arrangement is with me. I've already told you your collection's on it's way to Germany and will be here at 2300 hours tomorrow night. There's no need to do this."
Metzger turned towards Hogan with raised eyebrows. He chuckled. "My dear Colonel Hogan, this has nothing to do with our arrangement. This animal dared put his hands on an officer of the Third Reich. He must be taught his place and trained properly. It is strictly a personal thing." He reached inside his inner jacket pocket and removed a pair of brass knuckles (1). He slipped them on his right hand.
Hogan noticed Baker stiffen because they both knew what was coming. Hogan decided to try one more time.
"Don't," he begged. Hogan hated begging a German for anything; but in this instance, he would do anything to save Baker. "Please don't. Baker was only trying to protect me. If you have a problem with one of my men, then punish me."
Metzger ignored Hogan. As Baker tried to move away, he seized a fistful of the front of Baker's shirt, then drew back his fist.
Klink, seated in the back passenger seat of his staff car felt a strange feeling come over him. He couldn't explain it. It started with Hogan's words echoing repeatedly in his head.
Why would one of Burkhalter's aides call you about a meeting? Burkhalter would call himself. Think about it, sir. Call the General yourself before you leave.
Try as he might, Klink just couldn't erase those words from his mind. Hogan had seemed so insistent. Even with Metzger present.
Why would one of Burkhalter's aides call you about a meeting. Burkhalter would call himself.
To Klink, Hogan seemed to be trying to stop him from leaving the camp. But why would he do that? Metzger had promised Burkhalter he would nottouch any other prisoners including Hogan; so why would Hogan be so insistent that Klink not leave the camp?
Call the General yourself before you leave. Call the General yourself before you leave.
Klink shook his head and dismissed the thoughts as he gazed out of the car window. Hogan was probably up to one of his usual pranks. He'd deal with Hogan when he returned to camp. Klink suddenly felt his car slowing down. He leaned forward.
"Why are we slowing down, driver?" he asked.
"Roadblock up ahead, sir."
The car pulled to a stop as one of the armed guards approached the passenger seat and waited as Klink rolled down his window.
"What's the problem, Sergeant?" asked Klink. "I am Colonel Wilhelm Klink, Kommandant of Stalag 13. I'm in a hurry to get to Berlin."
"I'm sorry, Colonel, the guard replied, saluting. But we're under orders not to let anyone pass this point because the Gestapo is searching for one of their escaped prisoners."
If Klink hadn't been running late for a meeting with Burkhalter, he would have burst out laughing that the Gestapo had lost a prisoner. Instead, he threw up his hands in exasperation. "But I must get to my meeting with General Burkhalter, and I'm already late."
"Then somebody must be playing a joke on you, Colonel," the Sergeant explained. "General Burkhalter passed this way several hours ago and we told him what we just told you. He then explained he was on his way to Dusseldorf and that this road better be open when he returns possibly in the morning."
"What!" Klink bellowed, unbelievingly. "Then who would…." Hogan's words again rang in his ears. The General would call you himself. Call the General yourself before you leave. Call the General yourself before you leave.
Klink suddenly realized why it was important to Hogan that Klink call Burkhalter himself. He had somehow suspected Metzger was up to something. Klink shuddered as unpleasant images began running through his head as to what could be happening back at camp.
"Thank you very much, Sergeant," Klink said quickly rolling up his window. "Driver, turn this car around and head back to Stalag 13. And hurry!" Klink leaned back in his seat. I just hope I'm not too late, he thought to himself.
Hogan, turning his head away, squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the sound of flesh on flesh continued pounding in his ears. He found himself unable to watch anymore as Metzger continued to strike Baker. He struggled to keep from crying at the brutal beating Baker was enduring all because he was a black man who put his hands on a German. Again, he had failed to protect one of his men. Slowly, the urge to shed tears was replaced by a rage Hogan never knew himself capable of. He jerked at the cuffs binding him hoping they would miraculously give; they didn't. His breathing was becoming more difficult.
"Metzger!" he shouted his eyes still shut. "You strike him one more time and I'll make that collection disappear so you'll never find it!"
The sound of the beating stopped. Hogan then heard a body hit the floor. Opening his eyes, he forced himself to look around. He cringed at what he saw. Baker was a bloody mess and seemed to be bleeding from everywhere. Turning away, Hogan pressed his forehead against his manacled hands. He prayed Baker was still alive. He was suddenly grabbed by his shirt collar and jerked around facing Metzger who slapped him across the face with the brass knuckles leaving a bloody smear across the Colonel's face.
"Don't you threaten me, Hogan," Metzger replied coldly. "In fact, I'm going to up the ante. There are over one thousand prisoners in this camp. My collection is scheduled to be here at 2300 hours tomorrow night. For every hour that collection is late, I will kill one of your men in front of you."
"You bastard!" Hogan shouted, now gasping for air.
Just then, the cell door flew open and Klink, followed by Wilson, Kinch, Carter and four armed guards led by Schultz, their weapons pointed at Metzger, appeared. Wilson immediately knelt beside Baker. He pressed two fingers against his neck. Kinch, Carter and Klink winced at the sight. Schultz was near tears.
"He's barely alive!" Wilson announced. He then noticed Hogan gasping for breath. He quickly moved to Hogan. "Colonel…" he began.
Hogan shook his head. "Never…mind…me…Baker. Take…care…of Baker." He began coughing.
Wilson looked over his shoulder at Hogan's second-in-command. "Kinch, go to the infirmary and bring two stretchers quickly!"
"On my way," he replied heading out the door.
Klink looked at the bloody smear across Hogan's face and the body of Baker before glaring with anger at Metzger who calmly removed the blood-covered brass knuckles and tossed them on the bunk. Then, he removed a handkerchief and calmly wiped his hands.
"General Metzger, I am arresting you per direct orders given me by General Burkhalter. Schultz, you will see to it that General Metzger is placed under house arrest and make sure there is a guard both outside his bedroom door as well as outside the guest quarters. When I return to my office, I will contact General Burkhalter. Now, get him out of my sight!"
"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz replied, anger in his voice. Secretly, he hoped Metzger would try something so he could shoot him for what he had done to one of 'his boys.' He started to reach for Metzger's arm, but seeing the General's stare, he lowered his hand. Metzger gathered his coat and cap and went quietly with the guards.
"Just one moment, General," Klink said. Metzger turned. Klink held out his hand. "I want the keys to these handcuffs." Metzger didn't move. One of the guards searched the General's pockets and, finding the keys, handed them to the Kommandant before leading Metzger out of the cell.
Kneeling beside the American, Klink unlocked Hogan's handcuffs. He glanced at Wilson. "Go back to Sergeant Baker. I'll look after Hogan," Klink said. He handed Wilson the keys so he could free Baker. Hogan was resting his forehead on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Try to relax, Hogan," Klink said placing a hand on Hogan's shoulder. "Sergeant Baker's getting the best of care." He paused for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Hogan. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you when you asked me to contact the General myself before leaving." Klink noticed Hogan's breathing seemed to be easing a bit. He looked around and saw Kinch and Olsen coming in with the two stretchers. They opened and laid them flat on the floor. Olsen looked distressed.
Wilson, kneeling beside Baker, looked around at Hogan. "Colonel, I need you to lay down on one of those stretchers…now!"
Hogan raised his head and shook it. "Baker first…Don't worry…about…me."
Klink gripped Hogan's shoulder forcing the American to look him directly in the face. "Hogan, Sergeant Baker will be all right. Sergeant Wilson will do everything he can for him. And should he need anything else, I'll make certain he gets it. But how do you think Sergeant Baker would feel if he found out you let yourself become ill over him?"
"You…drive…hard bargain," Hogan gasped. He looked up at Kinch, Carter and Olsen.
"He's right, Colonel," said Kinch.
"Better do what Sergeant Wilson says, boy. I mean Colonel."
"We'll take care of Sergeant Baker," Olsen assured him.
Hogan slowly nodded and got shakily to his feet with Klink's assistance. The Kommandant led Hogan to one of the two stretchers and with Carter's help, got him to lie down on one of them. Then Carter and Olsen lifted the stretcher bearing their commanding officer and carefully carried it out of the cell and headed towards the infirmary. As he was being carried out, other than worry about Baker, one thought pushed its way to the front of his mind. Metzger dies tonight, Hogan told himself.
Wilson looked up at the Kommandant. "Baker looks like he's got several broken ribs, several cracked ribs, a broken left arm, a possible dislocated right shoulder, his right eye is swollen shut, his left eye is blackened and possible internal injuries. Kinch, I need you to slide that stretcher over here. We have to be extremely careful moving him. Kommandant, I'll need your help as well."
"Anything I can do to help, Sergeant Wilson," Klink told him. He then remembered the brass knuckles. Removing a handkerchief from his inner coat pocket, he picked up the bloody brass knuckles with it and folded the handkerchief around it. He tucked it inside his coat pocket. He would need to show it to General Burkhalter as evidence.
Once the stretcher had been positioned beside Baker, Wilson gently placed his hands under his shoulders, while Kinch did the same at his feet.
"Kinch, on the count of three, we slide him onto the stretcher. Be very careful with him. One, two, three." Together, they managed to slide Baker onto the stretcher without any problems. Wilson then grabbed his medical bag and handed it to Klink. "Kommandant, if you would be so kind."
Nodding, Klink held the medical bag tightly. Together, the two men, with Klink following, left the cooler. Klink briefly glanced back over his shoulder and frowned.
The only indication anybody had been in this cell was the small pool of blood on the floor, and the few spots of blood on the bunk near the foot of the bed.
(1) Brass knuckles are commonly believed to have evolved from the ancient Roman "caestus," a type of glove or hand guard made from leather and metal used during boxing matches in gladiatorial events. During WW2, the BC-41 pattern brass knuckles were used. There were two models: one with round holes for the fingers and the other with oval shapes for the fingers.