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What's in a Name

Chapter 34

A Revelation

Hogan had a few weeks to plan a rescue of the eight prisoners being held at Stalag Five. But after speaking with his operatives and leaders of the local Underground cells, Hogan concluded that, at this time, diverting the truck was too risky. The distance was too far, and there was no way to determine the timing and exact route of the transport. However, the prisoners, London and the Underground all agreed to work together to develop plans for future similar scenarios. Several weeks after the plane was shot down, the eight arrived at camp, and the operation acquired a chemical and explosives expert.

"You mean to tell me that this entire operation started with a numbering mix-up?" Carter asked again.

"Don't look at me," said Kinch. "I've haven't been here much longer than you have."

Newkirk hid his frustration at the sergeant's constant questions; chalking it up to nerves. "Would I lie to you, Andrew?"

"Well, I don't know, Peter. I don't know you that well, do I? I've only been here for two weeks, and how can I tell if you were lying? Although my Great-Grandma Henny, that's the one with the German background…did I tell you how she only spoke German to me?"

"Five times, Carter." LeBeau broke in. He tried to be patient. While the young sergeant's enthusiasm was infectious, he would not stop talking.

Carter looked up from his switches. "Oh, sorry. I did. Where was I?"

"Lying." Newkirk not yet fully confident in the ability of their new explosives expert to not blow them all up, swiftly stepped away from the table, as the sergeant blew away some dust and then playfully tossed the switches into the air. He caught them and put them in a box on the shelf.

"Don't worry, these aren't active. They're just switches. Lying. Great-Grandma Henny used to tell me that you can always tell if a person is lying by looking at their eyes." He laughed. "Used to work with me. I used to steal cookies before supper. I think every kid does that, don't you? Or steal pies. Anyway, she could tell. But, I don't think that's entirely right. I mean some people have made lying into an art form. Like Colonel Hogan, for instance. I've seen him lie right in front of Schultz and Kommandant Klink, and his eyes don't change a bit. Do they?"

"Well, I haven't really noticed, but then I don't really look into his eyes." Kinchloe smiled.

"I thought you once said they appeared too close together, Kinch." LeBeau poked the radioman in the arm.

"Did I?" Kinch laughed. "I have to go."

"Thanks for your help, Sergeant."

"Call me Kinch, and anytime, Carter."

Kinch left Newkirk and LeBeau alone with their new hut mate. With the tech sergeant's arrival—Hogan admitted Carter was the missing piece in their chess game-the mission became more dangerous. Working in tandem with the Underground, the prisoners were developing the means to disrupt the German war machine.

While the two rescued fliers from the crew made it safely back to England, the eight transferred to Klink's camp quickly realized they were in a much better place, and Carter was no exception.

He was still chatting. "Did I mention how crowded Stalag 5 was? Boy, oh, boy. There were these long huts. Three bunks, not two like we have here. And one stove in the middle for all those men." He shook his head. "We were already freezing, and it's not even winter. And the food was awful, and it was never enough. They could sure use your talents, LeBeau."

"Merci."

Carter looked at his watch and jumped up. "I have to check the darkroom. Those photos should be ready. You two can stay here if you want."

"Um, no. I'll come with you, if you don't mind." Newkirk had no intention of staying near explosive materials without the tech sergeant's presence. Even if Carter was present, Newkirk was still uneasy being near volatile substances.

"I'm coming," LeBeau followed the two out.

The three stopped to talk to Maddock for a moment. The British sergeant was checking on the latest tunnel expansion. Spurs to several barracks were now operational, and work on a branch to Klink's quarters had begun.

"I wish Klink hadn't exchanged the rest of the tongue depressors," he said. "We could have used those to make models." He saw Carter. "They may have helped with the sabotage. Oh well, no use complaining now. Settling in all right, Carter?"

"Fine, Sergeant Maddock. Still can't believe all this came from an undiscovered mine, and the wrong camp number. Still can't believe it." Over the past two weeks, the story of the naming fiasco leaked out to the newcomers-not all at once-but in what Carter would call chapters. It was so convoluted and mind-boggling, he thought, that he still couldn't wrap his head around it. In fact, he wondered if someone, somewhere, was pulling the strings. After all, Sergeant Matlack's mysterious coded letter from his brother-the one with the quick turnaround time- was certainly a sign of someone working behind the scenes, not just in London, but perhaps locally. Carter did not yet feel comfortable expressing his theories to anyone. For now, he just tried to do his part.

Carter opened the door of the newly completed darkroom and removed the developed film. While not the only prisoner familiar with the process, Carter spent a great deal of time in the tunnels, and he was normally available. In addition, his civilian work in chemicals and as a pharmacy assistant made him the more experienced photo technician.

Carter had other useful skills. He was fluent in German, and he boasted an uncanny acting ability. When Hogan appointed Carter to the core espionage team, the sergeant was enthusiastic and willing to oblige.

Two other American observers were on the doomed flight. Sergeant Wilson, an older recruit with medical training, was on board to take photos. The other American, Master Sergeant McMahon, was a meteorologist. They both quickly settled in and their skills were an asset to the camp and operation.

Hogan, plus the four members of his main team—Olsen was out of camp- crowded around the table in Hogan's office. The photos were of the new map in Klink's office. The colonel arranged them in order, and then took the jeweler's magnifying glass from Newkirk. "Nice work," Hogan said. He thought back to the day he examined the map on Klink's wall. That niggling thought was still present, and he was sure it had something to do with the map. He stared at the photos for quite some time. "I know there's something here."

Kinch recalled the conversation from weeks before. "What were you looking at in Klink's office, Colonel?"

"To see if any new POW camps were added," Hogan replied. He turned his attention to the markers designating open POW camps; and then it hit him.

It took another look to fully comprehend what he had seen. Then he asked the men surrounding him to confirm his findings.

"Well, that's just bloody marvelous." Newkirk grinned.

Kinch scratched his head in disbelief. LeBeau, happy to see the Bosch humiliated, laughed. Carter was too new and naïve to initially comprehend the ramifications, and at Hogan's behest, ran off to fetch Maddock.

While he waited for the former MOC to arrive, Hogan thought about the map. His discovery would not impact the men at camp, or the operation. Should he tell Klink? Never mind that, he thought. How could all these Germans be so wrong?

Carter had no idea how to explain the discovery to Maddock, and just told him the colonel had an issue with a map. The two hurried back over to Barracks 2.

"You called for me, Colonel?" Maddock asked.

"Yes. We just developed these photos of the new map in Klink's office," Hogan said.

"The big one from the other camp?"

"Correct. I thought I saw something odd on the other map, but couldn't quite wrap my head around it." Hogan explained the issue to Maddock, and the sergeant took a good long look at the map and the areas marked as POW camps.

His reaction was as expected. "Wow. Wow. I never had a good look at the map. You know, most of these opened long after a lot of us got here. Wow." He then began to laugh. "This is an odd turn of events, although Klink still has an issue. Will you tell him, sir?"

"I think I owe him that much." Hogan laughed as well. "Goodness knows how he'll react." And the Underground and London as well.

'May I suggest smelling salts, Colonel?" was Newkirk's advice.

HhHhH

Hogan went over to the Kommandant's office and gave Klink a song and dance as to why he was there. He was quickly able to manipulate his way over to the new map, complimenting Klink on how it brightened up the wall space.

"Hogan?" Klink snapped his fingers. "Hogan? Why are you staring at this map? I think that is enough! Someone might think you are planning something."

Hogan looked up at the Kommandant. "Might as well tell you, sir."

"Tell me what?"

"I don't think you are going to like this."

"Not like what?"

"Well, it is possible the locations of the Luft Stalags on this map are incorrect. Although, I don't think that is the case. I mean, you know where you are. I know where we are. We had a good idea where all the camps are, so we wouldn't bomb our own men." Hogan ran his fingers through his hair. He still had to admit this was weird.

"Of course, I know where we are. We're here." Klink placed his finger on the exact location of Luft Stalag 13. And Luft Stalag 1 is here. And 2 is here. And 3 is over here, which is where you probably would have ended up if you hadn't been sent here. What is your point?"

"Look, Kommandant. We are in the sixth military district. You told me that yourself. Look at the numbers of the other Luft Stalags, the closest enlisted camps and Oflags, and the military districts they are in."

Klink looked at Hogan. "I do not understand."

"Look, sir."

Klink bent down and pored over the map for several minutes. He looked north and then south. East and then west. He took a magnifying glass, removed his monocle and then looked again.

The door was open to the outer office, and Hogan motioned for Helga to come over. He whispered in her ear, and her hand flew to her mouth. She came inside, went to the sideboard and poured some brandy. Finally, after what seemed like an interminable time, Klink collapsed in his chair. This was a better reaction than Hogan expected. He feared the Kommandant would take out his sidearm and shoot himself, or at least bang his head against the wall.

However, he appeared to be in shock, and Helga hurried over with the brandy. Meanwhile, by coincidence, Schultz appeared at the open door, and he entered the office. Hogan spotted him, and gave him a sign to be quiet.

"Take a drink, sir," Hogan said.

Klink drained the glass. He then looked up at Hogan. "How could I have missed this?"

"I think the true question, sir, is how did everyone else miss this? Burkhalter? Well, judging from his uniform, he's Heer, actually, isn't he? Why is he in charge of Luftwaffe camps anyway?"

Klink looked up at Hogan. "That is his old uniform. I assure you, General Burkhalter is now Luftwaffe. And he looks after other camps as well."

"Never mind. That's not important. He is a general, and it should have been obvious." Hogan continued. "It should have been obvious to the officers in Luftwaffe headquarters you told me about, the other camp, and the officer who came here when you first opened. I forgot his name."

"I never told you," Klink squeaked. "I shall admit I forgot it as well. It's been over two years."

Schultz stepped forward. "Oberst Wolfram Gratz, Kommandant. What is going on?"

Klink did not reply. He just took out his monocle and cupped his forehead. "Oh, my," he moaned.

Helga opened a desk drawer and removed some aspirin, while Hogan hurried over with a glass of water. Helga put the aspirin in Klink's hand, and like a child, he swallowed it.

"Don't you have a manual for this sort of thing?" Hogan asked.

"Yes. It is quite large."

"It is at the top of the closet." Helga went over to the closet and opened the door. She could not reach, but Hogan was there to offer a helping hand. "Thank you, Colonel." She smiled, but all the while, she could not believe the Underground and British intelligence missed this as well.

A still confused Schultz walked over to Hogan. "Colonel Hogan, what is the matter?" he whispered. Hogan whispered into his ear and watched as Schultz turned pale.

Klink opened the binder, which seemed to weigh a ton. He readily admitted he had not read every single page. Most of the information did not pertain to the day-to-day running of a prisoner of war camp. Sure, he signed off on it and sent the notarized paper back. Everyone signed off on the terms and conditions, but who actually read all of them? As far as he knew, none of the other local Kommandants had. He looked at the index, and then found the page marked Procedures: Opening of new Luft Stalags.

Hogan, Schultz and Helga watched over his shoulder.

Klink leafed through the pages and found the section he wanted. He blew away the dust. "Uh uh. Uh uh." Klink's finger ran down the page. "Nothing there." He turned the page. Again, nothing. "Finally," he said. "I think this is it."

Klink read the paragraph aloud. "Luftwaffe camps are to be 'numbered in the order in which they are opened.'" (1) He looked up at Hogan, Helga and Schultz. "Everyone was wrong. We were all wrong," he repeated. "All the paperwork, the hassle. For what?"

"Well, if you want to get technical, Kommandant," Schultz said slowly. "We should not be Luft Stalag 13, either. There are not that many open Luft Stalags."

"He has a point, sir." Hogan took another close look at the map. "Not counting this camp, I see one, two, three camps. The labeling mistake had to have happened because of the two Hammelburgs. Or maybe they thought you were a sub-camp of the other Stalag. It has nothing to do with the military district at all. It was probably just a silly, little typographical error. And it wasn't caught in time."

"You are right, Colonel Hogan. And as Oberst Gratz said, the person who originally made the mistake was dealt with." Klink rubbed his chin. "According to when these camps opened, we should actually be Luft Stalag 2!"

"Ooh, sorry, sir. That is pouring salt into the wound." Hogan somehow mustered a sympathetic smile.

"I should contact General Burkhalter about this." Klink reached for the phone and then stopped at Hogan's loud and emphatic no.

"No? I shouldn't call the general?"

To Hogan, Klink now resembled a deer caught in headlights. "And point out that he made a mistake? That will not go over well, sir."

Klink winced. "Yes. He would not take that well. No superior officer would." And he is exceedingly grumpy. "But what should we do?"

"Nothing," Hogan stated.

"Nothing?" asked both Klink and Schultz.

Meanwhile, Helga closed the manual. She removed it from the desk and found a place for it on a bookshelf.

"When was the last time Burkhalter mentioned the naming fiasco?" Hogan asked.

"Let me think." Klink removed his monocle and polished it. "Ah." he put it back in. "I remember the exact time. It was when you arrived. However, he has been very busy since then. I heard he has been dealing with family issues."

"Nine weeks, give or take," Hogan stated. "And when was the last time something unusual occurred? Say, wrong personnel, prisoners, deliveries."

Helga stepped forward. "Except for the large map and the tongue depressors, not for quite some time, Colonel Hogan."

"What are you saying, Hogan?" Klink looked at his prize prisoner.

"I'd say this whole fiasco is sorting itself out. Don't make waves or draw attention to yourself. Fly under the radar; sweep it under the rug. That's it. I've run out of clichés."

"I will not bother the general with something so mundane." Klink parroted back Hogan's advice. "Everything is sorting itself out. We are the toughest prison camp in all of Germany, Stalag 13, in Hamelburg. With one 'm!'"

"Your decisiveness is truly an inspiration, sir."

"Thank you, Colonel Hogan." Klink fortunately did not notice Schultz rolling his eyes at Hogan's flattery. "And for the sake of everyone, I want this going no further. You're all dismissed. Wait, Schultz remain here for a moment."

"Yes, sir. Kept under wraps." Hogan saluted and followed Helga into the outer office. Although Klink's door was open, being alone with the secretary in the outer office was proof that Klink's trust in Hogan grew week by week. "He took that better than I anticipated. You still have that bathing suit in your bottom drawer?" he whispered to Helga.

Helga restrained herself from slapping the colonel on the face. "Is nothing safe or sacred?" she whispered back.

"No," Hogan answered in a lower tone of voice. A tone that meant business.

She smiled. "I will definitely keep that in mind, Colonel Hogan." He is in command now; and that is good.

Schultz, carrying some paperwork, left Klink's office. "I will see you back to the barracks, Colonel Hogan." This was the sergeant's clue that he wanted to investigate what, if anything, LeBeau was cooking. Hogan obliged.

"All right, Schultz. After you. Fraulein." He tipped his cap and followed Schultz out the door.

"Did you have something to do with this, Colonel Hogan?" Schultz, who told the prisoners more than once that he saw nothing, knew more than he claimed.

Hogan laughed. "Now how could I manage that, Schultz? And, why would I waste my energy on something this harmless?"

"Harmless for you. But maybe not harmless for the big shot?" Schultz replied.

"Don't worry, big guy. We've got you covered." Hogan glanced around the compound, and headed down the stairs. He was in a good mood. This harmless incident was a much-needed distraction from the war. He was sure it would not remain a secret for long. Eventually, word would get out, and the over three hundred men he now commanded, as well as the guards, would get some laughs out of the amusing episode. He pulled down the bottom of his jacket, which now that he had regained some weight, tended to ride up.

Hogan spied Maddock conferring with the men from his barracks, men he now trusted with his life and the lives of the other prisoners. He jogged over to the group, and gave them a quick rundown of the meeting with Klink. Schultz, of course, did not jog, but caught up to Hogan a few moments later.

"Colonel Hogan. The Kommandant specifically said not to spread word of this around."

"Don't worry, Schultz. It won't make the camp paper." Maddock patted the sergeant on the back. "Not the official one, anyway," he whispered to the colonel.

"All right, men, back to the barracks," Hogan announced with a grin. "Fun's over."

****one more chapter to come****

So how many of you actually read those terms and conditions (the entire thing) on the internet before checking the box? Yeah, that's what I thought.

(1) The Long Road: Trials and Tribulations of Airmen Prisoners from Stalag Luft VII (Bankau) to Berlin , June 1944 - May 1945 by Oliver Clutton-Brock and Raymond Crompton page 15. c. 2014. Originally accessed on Google Books: August, 2014, posted on Google books, in 2014.

When the story is completed, I will post an explanation in the forums, as I believe it is of historical interest. But briefly, I never noticed what Hogan noticed, until I tried to update my research on the transit/interrogation camp in an earlier chapter. (the one where Hogan was captured.) I was just trying to get an idea of the layout, and happened across the above quote in the google books listing. As you can see, the book is from 2014, and the google books posting was also from that year. I initially didn't trust the resource (due to its lack of documentation, but I took a second look at the maps myself.) So, my initial research into numbering (when I first began the story) did not pull this information up. I have looked at the maps of POW camps many, many times (both in books and online...usually for location, distance purposes) since I first began writing in 2008, and I never caught the fact that in many cases, the Luft Stalag (there weren't too many) numbers didn't match the numbers of other stalags located nearby.

I believe quite a few of us thought the numbers should match the military district, and this was mentioned more than once in forum postings before the purge, and in other areas.

In the beginning, camps changed numbers and moved around. Names and numbers switched locations. It is very confusing. It appears that the first camp was opened in Sudauen, Poland in 1939. it later became Stalag Luft 4 in 1942. The camp Hogan recalls in chapter 28, is located in Barth, opened in 6/40, becoming 2 in 41, and then back to 1. (I got a similar chart from 5 different sites, and the charts appeared to have been compiled from German sites, one of which is from Moosburg. Wikipedia's list is close, but not exactly the same. You have to be careful with wikipedia)

However: websites/resources online are all over the place and a lot of the records of pow camps are incomplete. Sometimes a website will show listings of a few Luft Stalags in the same military district. But basically, I set out to write a humorous (and much shorter) tale depicting the confusion regarding the number and location (also prompted by friendly arguments over whether the camp is a sub-camp of the real Stalag 13, or if it just another Luft Stalag in the Dusseldorf area.) I am glad, however. Because of this story and the extra research I did, I discovered my mistake and now hope to set the record straight.