Chapter 27---Hours to Go
Things were hectic in the infirmary once Baker and Hogan were brought in. Wilson had to chase Kinch, Carter, Olsen and Klink out promising to keep them updated regarding both men.
As Hogan appeared to be the least injured, Wilson ordered his assistant, Corporal Joshua Brennan to clean the Colonel's face and check if his jaw was broken plus if there were any other injuries. He was also advised to check Hogan's breathing and then place an ice pack on his throat afterwards. Hogan's breathing had nearly returned to normal during the short trip to the infirmary; but his mind and thoughts were with Baker. He winced as the Corporal cleaned his face with alcohol and noticed only a superficial cut on Hogan's left cheek and that a bandage would suffice. A further examination proved no fracture of the Colonel's jaw and his breathing was nearly normal. Once Brennan applied a bandage, he then proceeded to get the ice pack and place it on the Colonel's throat as ordered. Hogan immediately removed it and tried to sit up. He needed to know about Baker.
Brennan tried to stop Hogan. "Colonel, you need to lay still for awhile. You were very lucky. But you have to lie down. Please."
"Later," Hogan replied a bit more roughly than he planned. "I need to know about Sergeant Baker. I need to see him and be with him." He slid off the bed and would have collapsed if Brennan hadn't been there to catch him. The Corporal helped the Colonel back onto the bed.
"Colonel, please. You need to lie down. You nearly collapsed. Look, I'll make you a deal. If you lie down and keep that ice pack on your throat, I'll make sure you are kept updated on Sergeant Baker. Should you refuse, I'll have to sedate you as per Sergeant Wilson's orders. Your choice, Colonel."
Grumbling under his breath, Hogan slowly lay back down on the bed and placed the ice pack on his throat. "Just promise me you won't let him die," he said quietly.
Brennan smiled faintly. "We'll do our best, Colonel. I promise you." He then left to see what assistance he could be to Wilson.
He found Wilson cutting open Baker's sweater and shirt, his shirtsleeves rolled up, and both his hands and forearms were stained with blood. He noticed Brennan approaching out of the corner of his eyes. "How's the Colonel?" he asked, without stopping what he was doing.
Brennan smiled. "He's just as stubborn as you told me. Nearly collapsed trying to get out of bed. He only has a superficial cut on his cheek and his jaw's not broken fortunately." He watched Wilson for a moment. "What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to clean up these wounds, especially on his face. I'm concerned about his swollen eye; his other eye seems to be all right."
Rolling up his sleeves, Brennan grabbed a bottle of alcohol and some cotton and gently began wiping Baker's face. So engrossed in what they were doing, neither man noticed Hogan quietly and slowly sitting down in a chair that was beside his own bed near the foot of it. He held the ice pack to his throat, but it was important that he be near Baker to lend whatever moral support he could.
The men in barracks two gathered around Olsen, Kinch and Carter the moment they walked in and bombarded them with questions. Carter simply sat down at the table, staring at his hands. Newkirk sat beside his best friend. Olsen lay down on his bunk, staring at the wall. Kinch sat down opposite Carter and clasped his hands atop the table. LeBeau soon joined them. The other prisoners decided right now to give the three men some space and all found something else to do.
Carter bit his lower lip as he fought back tears. "Kinch, do you think Baker will make it?" he asked quietly.
Kinch sighed. "I hope so. But I'm not sure. I mean, Metzger did a real number on him from what I could tell. But then, I'm not Wilson. He'd know better than any of us."
Newkirk leaned forward to keep his voice low. "What the bloody hell happened? Where's the Colonel?"
"And what happened to Baker?" whispered the Frenchman, worried.
"Metzger beat him," Carter replied in a hollow voice. "He beat him using something. I don't know what it was. But you should have seen him, Louie. He was a bloody mess."
LeBeau clucked his tongue and shook his head.
"Blimey," Newkirk said softly. "What about the Gov'nor?"
"Apparently Metzger struck the Colonel across the face because there was blood on his cheek," explained Kinch. "And the Colonel was having a lot of difficulty breathing. Wilson had both of them removed on stretchers and taken to the infirmary."
"Who stopped the Bosche Kraut?" asked LeBeau.
"Klink, Schultz and some guards came into the cooler," Kinch explained.
"Klink's back?" asked LeBeau. "I thought he had left for Berlin to meet with Burkhalter."
"Perhaps the Colonel will tell us when he gets back as soon as Wilson releases him."
Klink hastily removed his outer coat and cap and hung them on the coat tree. He then reached inside his jacket and felt the hard object wrapped in the handkerchief. The hard object stained with the blood of both Baker and Hogan, but more so Baker. Klink shut his eyes as images of Baker lying on the floor entered his mind. It nearly brought tears to his eyes thinking that one of his own countrymen could be so cruel to another human being. And what of Hogan trying to get air into his lungs. For a moment, Klink feared Hogan might die in front of him, unable to breathe. He cringed at the memories.
Klink quickly walked to his liquor cabinet and poured a full glass of Schnapps and downed it in one gulp, and quickly poured another. He needed to get drunk. He wanted to get drunk, hoping it would make him forget what he had seen in that cell today. Can you ever forgive me, Hogan, for thinking you were playing one of your pranks? I should have known with Metzger around you wouldn't do that. I never should have doubted you, Klink told himself. He quickly emptied the glass he was holding and just as quickly poured a third. He was about to down it when there was a knock on the door.
"Who is it?!" Klink shouted without turning around.
The door opened and Sergeant Schultz quietly entered the room. He saw his commanding officer at the liquor cabinet and suspected the Kommandant was trying to drown his pain with booze. He sadly shook his head.
"Herr Kommandant…" he began.
"Yes, Schultz, what is it? Tell me and then get out!"
"Herr Kommandant, General Metzger is in his guest quarters with a guard outside his bedroom door and Corporal Langenscheidt is posted outside the guest quarters. Both have orders not to allow anyone to leave or enter."
"Very good, Schultz. Thank you." Klink stared at the drink in his hand. "You can leave now. I'd like to be alone."
Schultz started to leave but suddenly stopped. "Herr Kommandant, how are Colonel Hogan and Sergeant Baker? Is there any news?"
Keeping his head bent, Klink continued staring into the brown liquid. "Colonel Hogan doesn't appear to be badly hurt, Schultz. But Sergeant Baker is very badly hurt and I just don't know if he'll survive the beating he received. It seems that Metzger was intent on beating him to death. I can only speculate on the reasons behind it." He lifted the glass of Schnapps and studied its reflection.
"Herr Kommandant, listen to me. You cannot blame yourself for what happened."
"I should never have left, Schultz!" Klink turned and faced his rotund Sergeant. "Hogan even asked me to check with the General myself before leaving. You were there. If I hadn't left none of this would have happened."
"That may be true, Herr Kommandant. We'll never know for sure. But fact remains you got back here in time to stop it. Things could have been much worse if you hadn't come back when you did."
"That's small consolation, Schultz, if Sergeant Baker dies."
"Then think of it this way, Herr Kommandant. Because you stopped the General when you did, Sergeant Baker has a 50-50 chance of surviving. If you hadn't stopped him, he would more than likely be dead by now. So think that thanks to you, Sergeant Baker has a chance instead of no chance. That's all I wanted to say, Herr Kommandant."
"Thank you, Schultz," Klink said quietly.
"You're welcome, Herr Kommandant." Schultz saluted and after Klink returned it, left the Colonel's office. Alone again, Klink again looked at the contents of his glass. Then he turned and poured it back into the bottle from which it came. He walked to his desk and sitting down, picked up the receiver.
"Fraulein Hilda, get me General Burkhalter's office in Berlin. Priority call."
Wilson and Brennan continued working over Baker who was still unconscious. Having cleaned all his wounds, Wilson, to his relief, discovered things weren't as bad as originally thought, even though Baker's condition was still considered serious. The suspected dislocated shoulder turned out to be a sprain only. Baker's broken arm was set. With three cracked ribs on one side and four fractured ribs on the other side, Wilson and Brennan took care wrapping them in order to immobilize them, thus giving them a chance to heal. There were other assorted cuts and bruises that had been treated as best they could be. Wilson even began to think there might not be internal injuries after all. But for now, Wilson figured they had done everything they could do. The rest was now up to Baker. He looked at Brennan. "Josh, when you're finished setting up the IV, give Sergeant Baker a painkiller and an antibiotic. He's going to need them for awhile. And place an ice pack on his swollen eye. Hopefully that'll reduce the swelling. Then, with a deep sigh, he turned and was not surprised to see Colonel Hogan sitting quietly.
Wilson smiled at Hogan as he wiped his hands with a towel. "We've done all we can for him, Colonel," he said. "The only thing we can do now is wait. The fact he's still alive is a miracle in itself considering the beating he received." He sighed wearily. "Colonel, I know you're worried about him, but you need to get some rest yourself." Wilson saw the stricken look on Hogan's face and knew it would be impossible to get him to rest. His face softened.
"You can sit with him for an hour, but no longer. I want you to get some rest."
"Later, Joe. I can rest later."
"Listen to me, Colonel. I know what happened to Baker is eating you up inside. But there's nothing you can do. Now, after one hour if you don't want to rest here, I will allow you to return to your barracks to rest. And I will check on you later. And should I find out you're not resting, I will have you sedated. Do I make myself clear?"
Hogan didn't respond. But Wilson could see the anger building in the Colonel. He faced Hogan, and leaning forward with both hands gripping the arms of the chair, looked him directly in the eyes. "Colonel, you can't let this consume you. I understand Metzger's under house arrest and when Burkhalter get here…"
His dark eyes ablaze with rage, Hogan looked up in spoke in a cold, mechanical-like low voice. "Joe, Metzger dies tonight and I'm going to make sure of it. I suggest you don't get in my way. Do I make myself clear?"
Wilson licked his lips as he digested what he'd just been told. Finally, he nodded understandingly. "Just promise me you'll be careful," he whispered. "From what I've seen Metzger is not to be trusted. And whatever you do, don't let him to get you stressed out or aggravated because it could cause breathing problems, and then he'd have you where he wants you."
"I'll be careful, Joe. And thanks."
After Brennan had finished hanging the IV solution, he walked away to prepare the medications Wilson had ordered. Hogan got up and moved his chair closer to the head of the bed. Gripping Baker's right hand in his own, he stared into the battered and swollen face.
"I promise you, Richard. Metzger will pay for what he's done to you and to Newkirk. After tonight, he won't hurt any other man in this camp. And you know I always keep my word."