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What's in a Name

Chapter 32

The End of the Beginning

because you all asked for it: More Hogan.

(almost done, I hope)

There was complete silence in the hut as Hogan lifted the lid of the unlocked footlocker. There was nothing unusual stored there; some magazines, winter knits and tins of food took up the space on the shelf. Okay, no radio or tools. Could this just be an innocent piece of furniture? Perhaps an extra low table, Hogan thought. He looked up at the men. There was some shuffling, but no signs of stress on any of their faces. No, his instinct told him this was something more. He narrowed his eyes and was about to move the shelf.

"Oh, what the hell." Maddock walked over to Hogan. "May I, sir?"

Hogan straightened up and nodded. His eyes widened as Maddock lifted off the false bottom. The colonel stared into a dark chasm. He looked up at Maddock.

"After you, sir."

Hogan climbed down the ladder. As he touched the bottom, he instinctively did a 360 degree turn. I was right. I am Alice, and this is Wonderland.

Several minutes later, half the population of the barracks joined Hogan in the tunnel. Several prisoners from other barracks were already working down there; they had entered through the dog pen, and one man was monitoring the radio. Forgetting their discipline, the men from Barracks 2 tried to explain the history of the operation to their new Senior POW officer.

"Okay, one person at a time." Hogan, who ignored his fatigue for the moment, pointed at Maddock. "Start from the beginning, and don't leave anything out."

To everyone's surprise, Hogan listened and did not interrupt. Maddock started with Helga's discovery of the mine, and calmly and completely gave a condensed version of everything that occurred afterwards. He soberly recounted the transfer of the Polish prisoners and explained more about the failed mass escape. Other men gleefully explained how the dog handler trained the dogs to growl at the Germans and ignore the prisoners. LeBeau gave Hogan a run-down of Schultz's culinary tastes, and Glassman added the bit about the tunnel expansion to other barracks and the cooler. The only break came when Hogan laughed at Newkirk's tale of the suspicious scientist and his fixation on the number 13. The officer took everything in, and when Maddock and his men finished talking, Hogan sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. The men waited patiently for what seemed an eternity. Finally, Hogan spoke.

"Can I get a message through to England to let them know I'm alive?"

"That's already been done, sir. The Underground was able to confirm your identity," Maddock said.

"Newkirk?"

The corporal stepped forward. "Yes, sir?"

"Where did you acquire those skills?" Hogan asked.

"I'd rather not say, for some of them, that is. But, I turned over a new leaf, as they call it, quite some time ago. Put them to good use, I did. I've been an entertainer, and a tailor."

"He's also quite a skilled magician and pickpocket," Glassman added.

Hogan smiled. "Well, well, well." He got up and began walking around the main room of the tunnel. He stopped at the radio. "We just acquired three actual communications specialists. I venture a guess that they can put something together from nothing and build a radio blindfolded; maybe they can get us a real-time connection to London."

"That's fantastic," Maddock said as he followed the colonel around. "We had help from Marceau and a few other men who were radio operators on their planes. The equipment came from the Underground. But most of the radio operators were officers, and didn't end up here." Maddock paused. "I don't think you'll have any racial issues from the other prisoners," he whispered to Hogan. "But, the other Americans?"

"I won't tolerate any bigotry, whatsoever," Hogan answered in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "I'll have Klink throw them into the cooler myself. A Jewish man came in with us. Any issues?"

Glassman stepped forward. "No, sir. I'm Jewish. Been here quite a while, and I've never had a problem with any of the Krauts here, or the other prisoners."

Hogan nodded. "Good." I still want those five men moved into my barracks. Hogan couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about the welcome Baker, Broughton and Kinchloe would receive, he wanted to keep an eye on Olsen, and he felt responsible for Goldman. He made a mental note to discuss his wishes with Maddock in a few days.

"This is where we've kept the rescued Allied airmen." Maddock pointed to an area off the main room. "And we've built a nice storage unit." He took Hogan to the area and opened the door to the sealed off room.

Hogan, holding a lantern, walked in. He looked around at the shelves lining the walls. As he began to examine the contents, he could sense the nervousness of the men behind him.

"Explosives and chemicals, Colonel." Maddock pointed but didn't touch. ""The Underground acquired these somehow, and they are storing them here. They want to start playing around with sabotage, but so far, we haven't heard of anything being done," Maddock explained. "There's really only enough for one or two jobs anyway. We also have a few weapons. What we could use is some more training in developing photos. We have some cameras, but not a darkroom. Any photos we take have to be sent to the Underground."

"Photos of plans and weapons." Hogan recalled the story of the misdirected aide to Speer and the camp's role in hosting visiting scientists and officers. He looked forward to meeting Burkhalter and some of these VIPs.

"Yes, sir." Maddock followed Hogan out of the storage area. He saw obvious fatigue on the face of the officer. "If you don't mind me suggesting this, Colonel, I think you need to take a rest."

"You're right. We'll head up. I am beyond impressed with what you have all done. And to think it started with a numbering mistake." Hogan shook his head at the irony. He recalled discussing the mistake at the meeting in England. In fact, at the time, neither he nor anyone else thought it was a big deal. "First thing tomorrow, I want you to arrange a meeting with some of these civilians."

Maddock smiled. "Consider it done, sir."

As the colonel lay on the top bunk in his new office, he pondered what would come next. His first duty was to escape. However, the unique situation and the bravery of the sympathetic civilians and the prisoners prompted him to reconsider. If he did escape, what would happen to the Kommandant? Would losing his prize lead to a transfer for Klink? Moreover, would the new Kommandant be worse? If that were the case, what would happen to Glassman, Goldman, and the colored sergeants?

Klink was humane, but obviously not very bright. Maddock, an untested young sergeant, seemed to be able to manipulate the Kommandant. Hogan was confident he could do the same. His mother often told him he had a silver tongue, and the talent and knack of a successful used-car salesman. He chuckled. His friend Roberts once said that Hogan could sell ice to the Eskimos. Hogan knew he had the skills, so how hard could it be to influence the Germans around him? As he fell asleep, the colonel decided to let fate take its course. He had time; if the opportunity presented itself, he would be the first one across the border, but if he had a chance to make a difference behind the lines, so be it.

A much-relieved Maddock went back to his barracks that evening. He assured everyone that the new officer appeared trustworthy and fair, and he asked that this be spread throughout the camp. He hoped the colonel would stay, but if the opportunity to escape came, of course they would do everything in their power to help the colonel. Meanwhile, the burden of commanding the clandestine operation lifted from the shoulders of the tired and stressed-out sergeant. For the first time in months, he slept soundly through the night.

6 weeks later:

Hogan, dressed in all black and his face darkened with soot, crouched down behind a line of bushes not far from the Hamelburg Road. His companions, LeBeau, Newkirk and Olsen, were beside him. There was late word about a large raid scheduled that evening, and the four hoped to rescue any downed airmen.

Olsen was now an integral part of the main team of operatives. His knowledge of the area was an asset, as was his intelligence training, and he was easily able to blend in with the local population. Unlike Hogan, LeBeau and Newkirk, Olsen's absence would not be missed by Klink. Schultz did notice when Olsen was missing, but the guard could easily be bribed to manipulate the count, or to overlook the man who would occasionally fill in for the sergeant. Hogan came up with the idea to replace Olsen with a rescued flier if a pick-up time was too far in the future. Rather than have the fliers remain too long in an uncomfortable environment, the flier would come up top, and Olsen would take off. This allowed Olsen to run errands outside of camp. He could acquire needed items, and conduct surveillance, if necessary. The sergeant stayed with Oskar while he was outside the wire, and he joked that a career as a veterinary assistant was in his future. Hogan's concern about Olsen's behavior was unfounded. Under Hogan's guidance, the sergeant, while exuberant, proved to be trustworthy and consistent.

The Luftwaffe were not very successful this evening. Only one plane was hit and the men that bailed did not land anywhere near the four prisoners. "Can't win them all," Hogan stated as they walked back to the tree stump.

The four men carefully avoided the searchlights as they scrambled down the ladder.

"How many times have we been out this week?" LeBeau asked in a tired voice. "I lost count."

"Four," replied Kinchloe, who met the team at the bottom of the ladder. As per custom, the colored radioman was monitoring the communications equipment while men were outside the wire. It was simpler for Kinchloe to remain below because he now lived in Barracks 2, although the main operatives also realized that Kinch, now in charge of communications, somehow felt personally responsible for the team and his commanding officer.

Kinch and Hogan were very close, and no one dared question their relationship or Kinch's place in the scheme of things. Hogan dealt swiftly and strongly with any malcontents, and if anyone harbored racist thoughts or resentment of Kinch's position, they kept their feelings hidden.

Broughton also lived in Barracks 2, and he assisted with the upkeep of the electrical system and wiring in the tunnels. He occasionally monitored the radio and telegraph as well. Baker eventually moved to a hut across the compound.

"If the Krauts keep building up their military infrastructure in this area, we may be out seven nights a week." Hogan wiped the soot off his face and began to head for the changing area, when a signal came over the radio. Everyone paused as Kinch hurried over and took the message. He carefully wrote some notes down on a piece of blue paper, and then handed the sheet to Hogan.

The colonel quickly read it, and then looked up. "We're getting two men from the plane that went down. The Underground picked them up. The safe house is compromised due to Gestapo activity, so they'll be hiding here. Otto is bringing them in."

"I'll stay," Kinch said.

"No. Send Baker down with another man, and then come up top. You need to get some sleep," Hogan ordered. He looked at his watch. "We have four hours until roll call."

Fortunately, the two men, the co-pilot and a gunner, were uninjured. They were both British, as it was a night raid, but the next morning, the men explained that several American observers were on-board.

"It's a shame, Colonel," the co-pilot said. "A few of our boys were hurt; they let themselves be captured to save us. The rest drifted right into the arms of the Jerries. One, an American sergeant, was an ordinance and chemical expert. He was young, but knowledgeable. Nice chap. Very chatty. Pity."

"Blimey, we could use someone like that, Colonel." Newkirk, holding a tape measure, was starting the process of outfitting the two airmen.

"Sorry we couldn't help everyone," Hogan said. "I'll try and find out what happened to the rest of the men."

"How can you possibly get that information, sir?" asked the gunner.

"Radio contact or better yet, right to the source. The Kommandant." Hogan grinned.

As he walked across the compound, Hogan thought about the downed crew, and in particular, the American ordinance expert now fated to languish in a prison camp. He exchanged salutes and words with a few of the prisoners, and then spied Maddock heading his way. Hogan stopped to speak to the former MOC. As usual, Maddock carried a large amount of paperwork.

"Got the latest work details done, Colonel. Schultz has his copies. I also have the class schedule, the rec call schedule, the latest draft of the newspaper for your approval, and sick-call reports. There are no disciplinary reports this week, thank goodness. Oh, and here is the list of needed supplies."

"I'm heading over to see Klink, so I'll take the supply requests. The rest of the paperwork can go on my desk. Oh, and great job." Running the clandestine operation was a full-time proposition, and shortly after Hogan decided to remain a prisoner, Maddock and his small staff took over all of the daily mundane tasks. This enabled the colonel and his operatives in Barracks 2 to focus solely on the more dangerous aspects of their captivity. This was a safer and more efficient use of personnel. Klink didn't know this, of course, and Schultz chose not to care. As long as the camp ran smoothly, Klink had no need to question job descriptions or hut assignments.

Hogan was not stopped by the guards on the porch outside the office. He sauntered inside and greeted Helga with a smile. There was no need to ask if he had an appointment. Hogan seemed to move about the camp at will, and the Kommandant's office was no exception.

"Good morning, Colonel Hogan." Helga and the colonel shared an innocent flirtation that went no further than a kiss on the cheek and an exchange of black market gifts. Helga frequently exchanged these gifts for information, and she was now dating Corporal Langenscheidt, but she couldn't help but admit that she enjoyed the attention from the older man. Anything to help the allies, she often told herself. "I assume you wish to speak with the Kommandant."

"Correct." He bent down and whispered in her ear. "Any news about the raid last night?"

"Yes. He is on the phone..." Helga stopped as the door to the office opened, revealing an obviously uptight German Oberst.

Hogan immediately drew in a breath, and instinctively went into manipulation mode. His demeanor and tone of voice changed whenever he spoke with the Kommandant. He adjusted his posture and saluted.

"Good morning, sir. I hoped I could speak with you about some needed supplies." Hogan stopped and approached the Kommandant, wondering, not for the first time, how far he could push Klink's buttons.

Klink stared at the American for a moment, and then waved him into the office. Klink found Hogan to be a useful sounding board. The colonel, while reticent to reveal any useful information, did listen politely to Klink's concerns. Of course, the Kommandant was also careful with his words, not that Hogan could make use of anything the Kommandant told him. Most of Klink's dealings with other officers in his sector were stressful. It was a nice change to converse with an equal, even if the equal was a prisoner, without worrying that someone was in the process of stabbing your back.

"I heard a plane was shot down last night," Hogan told Klink. The colonel was examining the books on the shelves. He swiped a piece of candy from a dish made of tongue depressors. "They do nice work," he said as he unwrapped the candy and popped it into his mouth.

"Who does nice work?" Klink asked as he took the seat behind his desk.

"The boys in the rec hall." Hogan moved over to the desk and plopped down in the chair facing Klink. "So, did anyone bail out?" He asked nonchalantly as he removed the list of supplies from his pocket. "Here's a list of things we need." He passed the paper over to Klink.

"I will take this under consideration," Klink said. "And yes, I have been informed that the whole crew bailed out." Klink picked up a pencil and began to read the supply lists. As he checked off some items and jotted down some notes, Hogan continued to distract the Kommandant.

"What a relief." Hogan leaned back. "And more prisoners for you. Congratulations, sir. I'll have my staff make space available."

Klink put down his pencil and looked up. He leaned forward. "That won't be necessary. Eight men were captured and they were not sent here." Klink was obviously bitter, and Hogan was ready to exploit the Kommandant's anger at being slighted.

"Well, if you ask me, that's a slight. Why would they do that, sir? If they weren't going to send them to the interrogation center, you would think they would send them here. We are a lot closer, and you have the better record." Hogan began playing with the pickelhaube on Klink's desk.

Klink watched the officer for a moment. Sure enough, the colonel pricked his finger, and the Kommandant smiled as he watched Hogan put his finger in his mouth. For all the American's bravado, he was still a bundle of nerves. The colonel was constantly in motion. He would drum his fingers on the arm of his chair, walk over to the photos on the wall and straighten them. He frequently adjusted his bomber jacket, or fiddled with his crush cap. Klink was sure the colonel would eventually calm down, but for now, Klink found Hogan's actions to be amusing, and surprisingly pitiful.

"No. They sent them to Stalag 5. Imagine that. They are overcrowded as it is."

Stalag 5. It was too late to rescue the poor crew, but perhaps he could somehow get the crew transferred. Where was the camp's location? As he was about to work his way around Klink's desk to look at the map of Germany and the occupied territories, the phone rang.

Klink held up his hand to stop the conversation. "Yes, put him on." He listened intently for a few moments.

As Hogan marveled at Klink's utter lack of concern that a phone conversation was held in front of a German-speaking American officer, he walked around to the back of the desk and stared at the map. He quickly located Stalag 5, a large camp that held both ground troops and airmen in several compounds. Like all pilots, he had an innate ability to digest maps quickly and accurately. He continued to look over the area surrounding Hamelburg, and then tried to pick out the numerous POW camps on the continent. The list kept growing, and he knew Klink added new locations to the map on a regular basis. Satisfied that no camps were added since he last checked, Hogan listened to Klink's end of the conversation.

"Well, we don't have a bomb disposal unit here. You'll have to request one from the ordinance department. And I suggest you do it quickly."

The conversation became more interesting, and Hogan walked back over to the chair. He sat down.

"One of your bombs landed on a nearby plant," Klink, his hand over the receiver, told Hogan, "But it didn't go off." He listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. "Well, I'm glad the area has been totally evacuated. Wait, you didn't say where this bomb landed." Klink's eyes went wide, and he smiled. "Yes, good luck, and Heil Hitler."

Klink hung up. He looked to Hogan like a man who had just won a sweepstakes.

"I thought you would be upset about an unexploded bomb landing on one of your factories, sir." This was a distraction, and Hogan wanted to get back to the crew sent to Stalag 5.

"You would think that, Colonel Hogan, but not this specific plant. This plant is run by a very unpleasant man. It's not all that crucial to the war effort."

Hogan smiled. "The printing plant. The one that wouldn't change your stationery without charging exorbitant fees." Klink talked Hogan's ear off one evening while playing chess. Hearing more about the entire saga of the name change fiasco was the price Hogan had to pay for buttering up the Kommandant. Hogan decided it was a good time to make an exit. "I'll leave that supply list for you, sir. Thank you for your time."

"We have other places that print leaflets. I'll get back to you, Colonel Hogan. Dismissed."

After an exchange of salutes, Hogan headed for the door, then turned and said, "You know, you are correct about Stalag 5. Why would they send those men to an overcrowded camp, while your camp can handle the extra population?"

"Did I say that?" Klink stood up. "Yes, I did. You are right. I will look into this."

Hogan smiled and turned to leave. Hook line and sinker. He was about to turn the door handle, when a huge explosion sent both officers to the floor. The building shook for a moment, although the explosion was obviously a distance away. Hogan quickly scrambled to his feet and flung open the door. Klink followed. To their relief, Helga, still at her desk, appeared unfazed.

"What was that Kommandant?" she asked.

"I believe that was the printing plant," Klink responded.

"And that, Kommandant, is what we call poetic justice," Hogan said.

and with the end of the beginning, in this fictional world, we slowly move towards the new set of characters interacting with the established group of POW's. The operation continues to grow and develop, and Hogan realizes his duty is to these men and the Underground.

But...there is one "minor" detail that remains: Stay tuned.

a/n: The title of this chapter is taken from a famous speech given by Winston Churchill on 10 NOVEMBER 1942. (after the defeat of Rommel in Egypt) "The Germans have received back again that measure of fire and steel which they have so often meted out to others. Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

Read the entire speech. It is easy to find. Some may find part of it controversial...namely, his words about not presiding over the liquidation of the British Empire. British colonialism was a sore point between FDR and Churchill. Nevertheless, it is the above words that most people seem to recall, and they are, indeed, memorable and moving.