Chapter 36---Unpleasant Memories

Kommandant Wilhelm Klink stood gazing into the mirror in his bathroom at his reflection. He couldn't get Hogan out of his mind. The American's mistreatment by Hochstetter brought back painful memories to Klink; memories he thought he had long since buried and were now beginning to resurface. He reached over into the bathtub and turned on the hot and cold water, and adjusted it to the right temperature and let it run.

Removing his bathrobe, Klink was about to step into the shower when something caught his eyes in the mirror. He turned and studied it. The scars on his upper torso and upper arms. They were old scars, but the memories behind them was just as fresh as ever. He ran his fingers down the one long scar which ran from his right nipple to his navel. Klink began to recall how he got them.

He had been promoted to Colonel several years before. He was so self-assured, intelligent, cocky and not afraid of anything or anybody. Then one day, it all came crashing down around him.

He was in his office when it began. The Gestapo barged into his office and demanded he get to his feet. When he didn't move fast enough, two Gestapo guards roughly seized him by his arms and yanked him to his feet, jerking his arms behind him. Handcuffs were clamped tightly around his wrists, and he was led out the office past his superiors and others, to be shoved violently into the backseat of a black car with the red flags bearing the insignias of the Gestapo emblazoned on them blowing in the breeze on both sides of the front of the car.

All during the ride to Gestapo headquarters in Dusseldorf, Klink kept asking what was he being charged with and never got an answer. He was now scared beyond belief. He tried not to let his fear show to the Gestapo guards and the officer seated in the front passenger seat who stared at him the entire time.

Arriving at their destination, the Gestapo officer who Klink could see immediately was a Major, got out of the car. The two guards in the back seat dragged Klink out of the car and shoved him up the steps of the building behind the Major. Once inside, Klink found himself led to a small room with a bed and a chair. He was shoved into the chair and the guards proceeded to bind him tightly with rope. They saluted the Major and then left the room. The Major's eyes bore into Klink.

"I am Major Grunwald," he said coolly. "Things will go much easier for you if you cooperate and tell me what I want to know."

"What am I being accused of, Major?" Klink finally found his voice. "I don't know what you want from me."

Grunwald smirked. "Colonel Wilhelm Klink, you are charged with espionage."

Klink's jaw dropped. "Espionage? That's ridiculous, Herr Major. I am a loyal German."

"Liar!!!" Grunwald shouted as he backhanded the Colonel drawing blood. "You were seen by your aide, Captain Scheider, removing files you did not have clearance to see."

Klink was stunned. He knew Captain Scheider was jealous of him and didn't like him. But he never suspected in his wildest dreams that he would go this far as to set him up for something he didn't do.

The Colonel was a guest of the Gestapo for a week. And during that week he was repeatedly tortured, beaten and starved. By the time the seventh day had come, Klink was wishing for death; he hurt everywhere. He would have admitted to anything to stop the beatings and torture. One eye was swollen shut, the other was blackened. His shirt hung in shreds and blood ran down his chest from where the cat-of-nine-tails had been used. He had even been cut with a knife from his right nipple to his navel. But on the eighth day, a miracle happened.

The Gestapo had continued their investigation to find out if Klink had any associates and discovered that he was innocent; and that Captain Scheider was the actual guilty party and had framed Klink because he didn't like him. Without even an apology to Klink, the Gestapo released him to the custody of his superior officer, General Albert Burkhalter. Burkhalter had Klink admitted to the local hospital where it took him two weeks to recover from his injuries. But although the physical scars did heal eventually, the emotional ones never did.

But by the time Klink was discharged, he was never the same. Where he had once been self-assured he now had lingering doubts. Where he was intelligent, he became dumb. Where he was cocky, he was now unsure of himself. And where he was once not afraid of anybody or anything, he was afraid of everything and just about anybody, especially the Gestapo. He was nothing like the man Burkhalter had known at the time he had promoted him to Colonel. The Gestapo had broken him. Klink couldn't even function as he previously had, so Burkhalter had to come up with someplace to assign him where he couldn't be any trouble. Then it came to him. When Klink reported to work one day, Burkhalter summoned him to his office.

Klink stood timidly in front of Burkhalter's desk. The General could see the nervousness in his eyes. "Klink, have a seat."

"Yes, Herr General," he replied, sitting in the plush chair in front of the General's desk. "Did I do something wrong?" Klink asked nervously. He was fidgeting in his chair.

"Klink, you have not been the same since you returned to work here. Your production has slacked off, you're withdrawn and your concentration is not what it was before. Also, you're making more mistakes than ever. This cannot be allowed to continue."

The Colonel swallowed nervously. "Are you firing me, sir?"

"Not exactly. As I'm sure you are aware, we have recently opened a new LuftStalag called Stalag 13. It is located in Hammelburg. The current Kommandant there must be replaced; too many escapes. I want you to take over there as the new Kommandant, effective immediately."

"Am I being demoted, sir?"

"Not at all, Klink. You will maintain your rank of Colonel. It's just that I believe you are the man for this job." Burkhalter handed Klink several papers. "Here are your transfer papers and orders. You will present them to outgoing Kommandant Von Hindler and he will then turn over command of Stalag 13 to you. Good luck, Klink."

Klink came out of his fog as he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Schultz was the only one who had seen the scars when he brought in fresh towels into the Kommandant's bathroom while Klink had a towel wrapped around his waist while shaving. When he had inquired, Klink's response was that it was none of his business and if he spoke of it to anyone he would be sent to the Russian front before the day was over. But he could tell Schultz suspected where they had come from. He even knew Burkhalter now tolerated him where before he respected him. Klink was now even afraid of his own shadow, and when the Gestapo came to camp, he panicked.

Klink raised his eyes and glanced again at his reflection. Yes, Hogan, Klink told himself, we do share one thing in common. I know only too well what you're feeling and what the Gestapo are capable of. I know only too well.

Hogan, with Kinch's help, slowly got dressed. His side throbbed something fierce; his forehead was bathed in sweat from the pain.

"Colonel, I really wish you would let Wilson give you a shot of morphine. It'll at least take the edge off the pain in your side."

"Forget it, Kinch," Hogan replied, zipping his bomber jacket halfway up. Grabbing his crush cap off a nail in his locker, he placed it on his head and pushed it back. Taking as deep a breath as he could, he opened the door to his quarters and walked out with Kinch behind him. Approaching the pot belly stove, Hogan grabbed a coffee cup from the table and partially filed it. He took a sip of the warm coffee as he sat down at the table with Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter watching him closely. The pain their commanding officer was in was evident, but nobody said anything because they all knew they would get an argument. Kinch sat down next to Carter. They all could see Hogan was lost in thought and guessed the wheels were turning as to coming up with a plan on what to do about Skyhawk. Finally, a small grin appeared along with a twinkle in his eyes.

"We know that look, mon Colonel," LeBeau said with a grin of his own. "You have a plan, non?"

"Let's just say, LeBeau, I have a plan that by all rights shouldn't work, but I believe it will. But, we'll have to be very careful and everything must be done timely."

"So why don't you tell us what you've thought of, sir?" Newkirk said with a grin.

"I still have to work out some of the details, Newkirk, but what I can tell you is that what I originally wanted to do with Metzger is now going to be used on Skyhawk instead. I want him to believe we now have the collection in our possession and will set up a meeting place for him to pick it up."

"And when we get him to this meeting place where he's supposedly to pick up this collection?" asked Kinch who had a suspicion what his CO had in mind.

"Simple, Kinch," Hogan replied finishing his coffee. "That's where I'll kill him."

The men looked at each other. "But sir," Newkirk began to argue. "Why can't we just send this ruddy fool to England instead?"

"Several reasons. First, we don't know what Metzger told him about our operation. Two, we don't know how much he already knows. And three, he's too dangerous to send to London with the knowledge he may have. What if he should escape and talks to the Gestapo? We could find ourselves in front of a firing squad. No, Newkirk. Killing him is our only option." Hogan looked at his watch. "I'm gonna lay down for awhile." He slowly got up, a wince on his face which didn't go unnoticed by the men. "LeBeau, help me to my quarters will you?"

"Oui, mon Colonel," the little Frenchman jumped to his feet and, gripping the Colonel's arm, aided him to his quarters and once inside, helped Hogan sit down on the lower bunk.

"Is there anything you need before I leave, mon Colonel?" he asked.

"Yeah, there is. LeBeau, close the door and have a seat. I want to talk to you about something."

"Oui, mon Colonel." LeBeau turned to close the door, but the nervous look on his face had him wondering if somehow the Colonel knew his secret. But how could he? He hadn't told anybody. The door closed, LeBeau pulled out the chair from the Colonel's desk and sat down facing Hogan, his hands clasped between his knees. "What did you want to talk with me about, Colonel?"

Hogan smiled affectionately at the little Frenchman. "Relax, LeBeau. You're not in any trouble. Believe me."

LeBeau's eyes narrowed. "Then I don't understand…"

"I want you to tell me what it is you've been keeping from me all this time. And don't tell me nothing, because I'm been watching you men since Newkirk was injured. I could tell from your face that the anger was building inside. I promise you I won't be angry and you won't get in trouble. Just tell me."

LeBeau hung his head and shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't have done anything, Colonel, if you and Kinch had come back. But if you didn't…" he couldn't look Hogan in the face.

"LeBeau, look at me," Hogan said softly. The Frenchman looked up into his commander's face. "Tell me what you had planned if Kinch and I hadn't returned."

"I'm sorry, Colonel. I was going to convince Klink to let me work in the kitchen preparing the Bosche Kraut's meals and poison his dinner with a slow working poison. He would have died in his sleep. But since you and Kinch did return, I dismissed the entire plan. But I wanted to, mon Colonel. I really did. After what he'd done to you, Newkirk and Baker, I could not just sit by and allow that swine to get away with it."

Hogan, resting his elbows on his knees, leaned forward. "I understand how you felt, LeBeau. I really do. And to be honest, I'm glad you didn't go through with it because I would have felt badly for having put you in the position of feeling you had to do what I intended to do."

"I apologize, sir," LeBeau said gently. "Are you disappointed in me, Colonel?"

Hogan smiled. "Not at all. And you're still a part of this team. All I ask is the next time you feel like this that you come to me and we'll talk about it. Okay?"

LeBeau smiled in relief. "Oui, Colonel. I promise."

Hogan patted LeBeau on the shoulder. "Okay, now get out of here. I need to lay down for awhile."

Getting to his feet, LeBeau put the chair back in its place and headed for the door. He stopped when he heard Hogan call out his name. He turned.

"Colonel?"

"Thanks for caring," Hogan replied holding his side as he lay down.

LeBeau smiled affectionately. "You are welcome, sir. Try and get some rest." He then walked out the door, closing it behind him. He felt so much better now that the Colonel knew what he'd been hiding. He hated keeping secrets from Hogan.

"How's the Gov'nor?" asked Newkirk seeing LeBeau approach. "You were in there for quite a while."

"The Colonel is in a lot of pain," LeBeau said. "I tried to convince him to allow Wilson to give him a morphine shot, but he refused. Said he felt fine and didn't need it."

"Well I, for one…" began Kinch. "Would feel a lot better if he'd let Wilson give him something for the pain. I mean, he's gonna be going up and down into the tunnel and then laying this trap for Skyhawk. The pain is only gonna get worse."

"But how do you get the Colonel to take something for pain when he won't take any morphine?" asked Carter, puzzled.

"Maybe we can talk the Colonel into taking aspirin," Kinch replied. "I mean, it won't dull the pain that much, but it will help somewhat. Also, he shouldn't refuse because aspirin will leave his mind clear." He looked at Carter. "Andrew, since it's after dark, use the tunnel and go to barracks twelve and see Wilson. See if he has any aspirin he can give the Colonel for the pain."

Carter jumped to his feet. "On my way," he said.

After Carter had disappeared down the ladder and LeBeau was standing watch at the door, Newkirk gazed at the radioman. "Kinch, what do you think the Colonel's got planned?"

Kinch sighed wearily. "I wish I knew, Newkirk. But this time I have no idea other than what he's already told us."

"I know," the Englander replied. "But with the amount of pain he's in from those two broken ribs, they could hamper him somewhat if there's a confrontation between him and this Skyhawk." He ran his good hand over his brown hair. "I wish one of us could go after this bloody bastard instead."

"So do I," Kinch agreed. "But the unfortunate thing is that Colonel Hogan is the only one who's ever seen him and knows what he looks like."

"And I don't think the Colonel's about to share that information with us," Newkirk replied.

"You're probably right there," Kinch agreed. "The one thing I worry about is when the Colonel confronts this person, if Skyhawk senses or sees any weakness in the Colonel, he'll kill him on the spot."

"Yeah," Newkirk agreed dismally. "And what better weakness could the Colonel have than pain from two broken ribs. Skyhawk will spot that in a minute and the Colonel'll be a dead man."