Chapter Nineteen: Trust

Hogan knocked on the door of Klink's office and waited for a response. The meeting with the barracks' chiefs last night had gone as expected. Some men were more receptive to his orders than others. Regardless, he had laid down the law: follow orders and care for every man in your barracks or find yourself replaced. However, his efforts so far would be wasted if Clayworth, Brown and the others only received a slap on the wrist for their actions.

But to enact the punishment he deemed necessary, he needed the support of Kommandant Klink.

"Come in."

"Good morning, Kommandant."

Klink frowned. "This is not a good morning, Colonel Hogan. Seven men in the cooler for fighting is a disgrace to this camp that I will not tolerate."

"I agree, sir."

"Then why didn't you stop it?"

Klink's question struck a nerve, but Hogan forced himself to shrug it off. "I knew that there were men who disapproved of Kinchloe's presence in camp, but I didn't think they would jump him when he was walking across camp."

"I thought Kinchloe started the fight."

"I interviewed some witnesses, sir. It appears that Sergeant Kinchloe wasn't given much of a choice in the matter."

"Humph. That man has been trouble ever since he showed up in this camp."

Not liking the direction in which Klink's thoughts were going, Hogan knew he was going to have to remain sharp, or he was going to lose one of his best men.

"Kommandant, might I make a suggestion? These men in your cooler, they aren't going to stop simply because we order them to. Their dislike of Kinchloe goes far beyond the personal. It might be best if you arranged for their transfer to another camp."

Klink considered the matter. "My problem could also be solved by transferring Kinchloe."

"True, but then the others will turn their attention to Sergeants Leonard and Washington. The only way you can solve that problem is to transfer all three of them. By the way, which of your fellow kommandants do you think would be willing to take on three Negro prisoners?"

Klink scowled as he realized that the answer was none of them. But that didn't ease his concerns. "Colonel Hogan, surely you don't believe that those are the only six men in camp who have an issue with living with Negroes?"

"I know they aren't, sir. But I have a plan to deal with them. Transferring out a group of prisoners who openly attacked a colored man will serve as a warning to them."

Sensing that he basically had Klink where he wanted him, Hogan sealed the deal. "Besides, I doubt General Burkhalter would be happy to see you hand off your responsibility to someone else. He expects you to keep Kinchloe from escaping again."

Klink sighed. "Very well, Colonel Hogan. I will see about transferring those six men to another stalag. But I expect you to ensure that nothing like this ever happens again."

For once, Hogan was in total agreement with a man who was supposed to be his enemy. "I will talk to my men. And, Kommandant, once you have arranged the transfer, I request that you let me break the news to the men in the cooler. I will warn them against making trouble during the transfer."

Klink agreed and dismissed the American officer. As Hogan left the office, he found himself oddly respecting Klink. The man whom he had initially dismissed as an idiot was turning out to be a decent man. He actually did his best to see that the prisoners in his camp were treated fairly.

Hogan had no idea if he would have been able to say the same about any other kommandant.

Concerned about the direction his thoughts were taking, he forced himself to remember that he was in the middle of a war and Klink was the enemy. He couldn't afford to think otherwise if he wanted to escape. Because if he pulled off his plan, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be signing Klink's death warrant.

This was war. And in war certain sacrifices had to be made.

His responsibilities to his men came first.

In solitary, Kinchloe couldn't see what was happening in the rest of the cooler, but due to the open peephole, he was able to hear what was going on down the hall. At first, he had considered that fact an annoyance as he got tired of overhearing the other prisoners' complaints and the occasional distasteful conversation. However, when he heard the unmistakable sound of his CO, he was grateful as he listened carefully to every word.

"At ease, men," Hogan began, "we don't have much time."

Clayworth answered, "Time for what, sir?"

"Klink has arranged for all of you to be transferred to another stalag."

"What?" Brown exclaimed. "The fight was the colored's fault!"

"I know," Hogan said. "I tried to convince him to change his mind, but he is a stubborn Kraut."

"I didn't think you cared about us, sir," one of the other men said.

"Thought you'd be more concerned about Kinch." Brown spat as he uttered the hated nickname.

"Kinchloe is a tool. A useful tool that I need to stay in this camp, understand?"

Kinchloe furrowed his brow in concentration; Hogan's conversation with his attackers was turning out to be an illuminating one.

A very illuminating one.

"Yes, sir," Brown murmured unhappily.

"Now, there is no changing Klink's mind, but that doesn't mean he has won. In fact, he has given us a fabulous present."

"I don't follow you, sir," Clayworth said.

"Klink's transferring you all to two other camps. Now you know what we've achieved here and I trust that you all have learned enough to duplicate some of it. Our duty is to escape, and by sharing some of the tricks I've taught you, you will be an asset to the other camps."

The men responded to that. "The Nazis won't know what to do with men escaping all over the country."

"We'll do it, sir. You can count on us."

As the truth came out, Kinchloe wasn't even all that hurt by his CO's words. There was no point in getting angry. He had known from the beginning that he was – as Hogan put it – a "useful tool."

Yet, as he listened to the sounds of the other POWs being removed from the cooler, a small voice nagged at him, telling him that something was off. That he had missed something important. But what was there to miss? Hogan had just proved that he was no different than the others.

Except, ever since the American officer had arrived at Stalag Thirteen, he had been anything but ordinary.

The things Hogan had accomplished so far had been remarkable. The building of the exit in the fence, saving the broken radio, rescuing that downed flyer – none of these things should have been possible to accomplish. So he had dared to hope that this officer was different. That his character was as extraordinary as his deeds.

Instead, Hogan had played him just like he played Klink.

Suddenly, Kinchloe's breath caught in his throat. Hogan's words. His tone when he talked with his attackers. That was the same tone his CO used when he spoke to Klink.

Hogan had told his attackers exactly what they wanted to hear.

Had he figured out the truth on his own?

The more Kinchloe reflected on the conversation he overheard, the more convinced he became that his CO had lied to the other men. For if the guys squealed about his plans out of revenge for their transfer, Hogan's plans would be ruined.

Could it be that the Hogan who spoke with him was the real one, and not the act?

At that moment, Kinchloe heard footsteps, and stood as Schultz unlocked his cell door. Outside in the corridor stood the man Kinch desperately wanted to believe he could trust.

"You're free to go," Hogan said once Schultz had left them alone. "The others have been transferred out."

Kinchloe didn't move. "Why did you do it, sir?"

Hogan grinned. "You didn't think I'd leave you to rot in here, did you?"

Kinchloe should just leave at that. Joke back and act like nothing had happened. But he couldn't. He needed to know. Even if the answer was one he didn't want to hear. "Sir, I finished the radio. You don't need me anymore; there are plenty of men in this camp who are capable of working a transmitter radio. So why am I still here?"

Hogan turned serious. "Did I need your particular talents? Yes. Do I still need your particular talents? Definitely. But that's not the only reason I asked you to be on my team. I needed a man of courage and integrity who wasn't content with just being a prisoner for the rest of this war.

"Sergeant Kinchloe, I was going to ask you later, but since you appear to be in no hurry to get out of the cooler, I'll ask you now. Our operations are growing and I am going to need assistance if we are going to pull off this escape plan. I need a Chief of Operations, and I want you to be that man."

This couldn't be real. But it was. The respect, the friendship, the trust. And it had been real from the beginning. Colonel Robert E. Hogan truly was a genuine person, which was more than a little ironic for a man who was able to lie so easily to their captors. His CO was everything that Kinchloe had dared to hope he would be.

Plus, Hogan's actions matched the conviction of his words. He was truly prepared to place a colored man in a position of authority over white men. Was it even legal? Kinchloe doubted it. But Hogan was serious. There was no doubt about that.

"Sir, I'm honored, but I can't be who you want me to be. The men will never accept me!"

"Kinch," Hogan reassured his friend. "They already have."

Kinchloe opened his mouth to protest. Had Hogan already forgotten how he had ended up in the cooler?

Anticipating the next protest, Hogan clarified his last point. "Newkirk and LeBeau consider you a friend. Olsen followed your orders when I was out searching for Crane. Anderson admires your skills, even if he doesn't fully admit it yet. When I had you deliver orders to the other barracks, they were accepted. I'm not saying that there wouldn't be some pushback, but the majority will come around when they get a chance to see what you can do."

Hogan's offer was serious and Kinchloe was ashamed to admit that his first response was fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear that he would fail. Fear of leaving behind the familiar role that society had assigned to him.

He couldn't do this.

But Hogan refused to back down. "You're a good man, Kinch. One day I hope you will be able to see what I see when I look at you."

There it was again. That name. Kinch.

It was a silly nickname. It had been given in jest, and yet had somehow managed to stick. And come to symbolize so much. For Kinch meant acceptance, friendship, trust. Kinch was a man who belonged.

It was just a silly nickname. Still, as Kinchloe, he had been hurt and ill-treated. Kinchloe had burned too many times to ever stop listening to that voice of doubt in the back of his head. So maybe it was time to stop being Kinchloe and become Kinch. Maybe it was time to become a man who could lay down his suspicions and simply be the trusted friend and advisor that Hogan wanted him to be.

He had finally met a white man deserving of his trust, but because of his past, he had resisted Hogan's offer of friendship every step of the way. But now it was time to stop fighting. It was time to stop being afraid. It was time to step forward and take a leap of faith.

Decision made, Kinch smiled. "Thank you, sir. I'd be honored to accept."

It was time for things to change.