Notes: This is my entry for the 2023 Short Story Speedwriting contest! It's meant to take place in early 1945, and my choice of prompt was "Sometimes in war, one is forced into strange positions."
As much as LeBeau wanted to be angry and annoyed, forced to cook once again for a surprise visitor to Stalag 13, it was rather difficult when said visitor was crying into a handkerchief in the next room.
"Blimey…" Newkirk murmured, waiting to serve the meal the Frenchman was preparing. "She's going to oversalt the lunch you're making with 'er tears."
His usual sarcasm, in spite of himself, was noticeably tinged with pity—and that surprised both corporals, on account of who their guest was.
LeBeau just shook his head, and he covered the meal he had just prepared with a large cloche.
"Place it on the cart and tell her she can have it when she's ready for it," he said. Normally, he would be insulted at the thought of someone not eating his culinary masterpieces right away, but, like Newkirk, pity overrode all other emotions.
For once, lacking in a witty retort, Newkirk nodded and pushed the cart out of the kitchen, meeting Schultz's matching expression of awkward pity as he brought the cart to the table.
"Your lunch, Frau Linkmeyer," Newkirk said. "LeBeau says you may partake in it. whenever you're ready."
"Danke," she managed to say. "I… I don't know why I am taking this as hard as I am. Forgive me…"
"One can 'ardly blame you," Newkirk found himself replying. "Your brother's up and vanished, you've got 'ochstetter blundering about, trying to find 'im—"
Gertrude let out a loud sob, prompting Schultz to chide the Englishman.
"That was the wrong thing to say, Newkirk!"
"Trust an Englishman to put his foot in his mouth!" LeBeau agreed, emerging from the kitchen.
"I was only trying to 'elp!"
"It's alright, I know you were," Gertrude sniffled. "You are sure Colonel Hogan will be here soon?"
"Oui, Madame—he knows you wish to speak to him," LeBeau promised. "He will be here as soon as he can."
Newkirk nodded in agreement, sighing as he recalled just how they had gotten to this point-
"There's one thing I don't quite understand, Sir," Baker had said, as Hogan and the others now gathered around the radio earlier that day.
"What's that?" Hogan had asked, also struggling to take in the message that Baker had just decoded.
"London has said that they want us to start winding down our operations—and they want us to get word to the Underground to do the same," the sergeant had said. "But they haven't made any mention of plans for our escape."
"I'm with Baker," Newkirk had stated. "Shouldn't we scarper while we've got the chance?"
"I know that logic would state that we should leave—and if it wasn't for the fact that this operation is still going to be highly classified for years to come, I'd have agreed," Hogan had replied.
"So let's rig some of my charges, blow up the tunnels, burn the documents, and the heck outta here while we can!" Carter had exclaimed.
"Oui, I agree, Colonel!" LeBeau had added. "We know the route, and we have those three fliers who need to escape, as well—why don't we all go!?"
"And what happens if even one of us gets caught?" Hogan had pointed out. "The Germans are running around, panicked and desperate. We wouldn't even have any way of calling for backup!" His expression softened as he saw how dejected his men looked. "Fellas… I know it's tough, but our chances in here are going to be better than out there—we just need to hang in there until the end. And I'm sure it's coming—we've gathered that much from what Kinch was able to tell us from his vantage point in London."
"So that's it, then?" Baker had asked. "After we send these three guys out… we close up shop?"
Hogan could only nod at that point.
"This is our last one," he finally confirmed. "I know it's going to be rough, sitting here and waiting, but we don't really have a choice. The amount of confusion going on can work just as easily in our favor, or against us. I've even heard rumors that a lot of the higher-ups have just disappeared."
"You mean they've been captured?" Carter had asked.
"Or they've deserted," Hogan had nodded.
And it was at that point, almost as if to illustrate Hogan's words, that Garlotti had yelled down to alert everyone that Burkhalter's staff car had arrived—but that the general himself was nowhere to be seen. Only Gertrude, sobbing and half-crazy with worry had arrived, practically clinging onto a half-panicked Klink as a lifeline.
They had managed to gather from overhearing their conversation that her brother, the general, had disappeared without a trace. But Burkhalter had put contingency plans for both Gertrude and his wife; he had instructed his wife to leave for Switzerland, and had instructed Gertrude to make her way to Stalag 13, insisting she would be safe there. And Klink, terrified that this would somehow involve matrimony, proceeded to put her up in his quarters while locking himself in his office and rambling to Hogan about the injustice of it all, all the while Hogan was itching to get back to work helping their last batch of transient fliers.
And so, here they were now.
Gertrude had finally calmed down enough to start on the lunch that LeBeau had prepared, and seemed to cheer up, albeit slightly.
"Your cooking is one of the things I have always looked forward to whenever I come here," she said to LeBeau. "You never disappoint. But, tell me, how does a chef survive the rigors of the army?"
"Through pure rage and spite," LeBeau replied.
"You can say that again," Newkirk snarked.
"And you?" she asked Newkirk. "What was your trade?"
"Stage performer—nothing fancy, mind you, but I've been 'eld over more than once to sold-out crowds."
Gertrude's expression softened.
"You are no more a soldier than your chef friend," she said.
"Never claimed to be," Newkirk replied.
"And Schultz is a toymaker?" Gertrude continued.
"Ja,gnadige Frau," he confirmed.
"None of you should have been here," she realized, with a sigh.
"Oui," LeBeau agreed. "Most of us here had never seen war—never intended to see it. But we were called upon."
"And so we all ended up 'ere," Newkirk finished. "And we've just got to make the best of it."
"Make the best of what?" Hogan asked, entering the room to hear the last half of Newkirk's sentence.
"Being here," Schultz repeated, sagely. "And between you and me, there is not much to make the best of."
"I'll second that," Hogan mused. "Frau Linkmeyer, I was told you wanted to talk to me?"
"Ja, I do," she nodded. "Schultz, can you excuse us, please?"
"But-but-but…! I am supposed to guard Newkirk and the cockroach—"
"Bitte, Schultz?"
"You can wait right outside the door, Schultz," Hogan assured him. "We won't try to escape."
Schultz nodded and stood guard outside Klink's quarters; LeBeau and Newkirk moved to return to the kitchen, but Gertrude stopped them.
"You may stay," she said, prompting the corporals to exchange confused glances.
Hogan exhaled slightly, his intuition once again whispering in his ear—
She knows.
"Colonel Hogan," Gertrude sighed. "Do you have any news of my brother?"
He played dumb, as usual—
"I'm not sure how you'd expect us to have any news from the outside world—we only know what Klink is willing to tell us."
"Colonel, please, I am begging you!" She grabbed for her handkerchief as tears sprang back to her eyes again. "First, I had to accept never knowing my husband's fate—now, I will never know what happened to my brother, as well!?"
"Frau Linkmeyer, we don't know. We really don't know," Hogan said, gently.
"I understand how you must feel, Madame," LeBeau said, quietly. "I have an elder brother whom I have not heard from in a long time—I, too, worry about his fate."
"And I am the elder brother—me sister's back in London, and letters 'aven't been coming through from there lately with all this going on," Newkirk added.
Gertrude managed a nod.
"That he was able to send for Berta to go to Switzerland and instruct me to come here must mean something," she consoled herself. "But… why here? Why couldn't I have gone with Berta?"
"It would've looked suspicious if both of you had gone," Hogan pointed out. "Hochstetter would've stopped you before you could've gotten far."
"Hochstetter!" she fumed. "He has been giving me nothing but grief since Albert vanished—and now that Berta has gone, too, he will expect that I know more about this! All I know is that a lot of the generals have been fleeing the country—even fleeing the continent. Do you know of any way I can get to Switzerland before he and Berta leave for good!?"
"I'm sorry… that just isn't possible," Hogan said, shaking his head. "I wish we could help with that, but… we can't. Really, I am sorry."
He turned to go.
"Colonel, I know you have the power to do something to help me," she said, putting the cards on the table. "I don't know what Albert suspected—perhaps he thought the idea too ridiculous to be true."
"A Stalag like this won't get attacked by the Allies as they advance; that's why the general told you to come here," Hogan said, turning back as Newkirk and LeBeau looked on in breathless silence.
"Perhaps he did. But my intuition tells me there is more to this place—and you—than meets the eye. What about getting me somewhere else—anywhere else!? Even London?" she asked. "Hochstetter will have me arrested for information—which I do not have!"
"I'm a prisoner here," Hogan insisted. Denying everything was all he could do at this point.
There was a long silence.
"Do you really hate me that much, Colonel Hogan?"
"Believe me when I say that it's nothing personal," Hogan said, truthfully. "I'm definitely not crazy about your brother, but I've got nothing against you personally."
"Then forget, for a moment, that I am a general's sister. Look upon me as the civilian I am. Colonel, please—my life could be in danger!"
"And so could all of our lives!" Hogan pointed out.
"That did not stop you from kidnapping me!" she retorted.
And, at that, Hogan paled.
"What are you talking about?" he managed to ask.
"You do not realize what women go through, do you?" she said, shaking her head. "Did you even stop to think of how terrified I was that night, and the hours after? Do you not understand the details a woman remembers in a situation like that!?" She whirled around, looking at LeBeau. "You were the one of the two who stopped my car and distracted me so that the others could take me. And you!" She turned to Newkirk. "You were the one who stayed with me, trying to make me think I was elsewhere—terrible hotel in Dusseldorf, indeed! Did you take me for that much of a fool!? I could recognize your voices anywhere! And what's worse—you nearly got poor Schultz shot with your plot!"
"I was there when you told Hochstetter—" Hogan began.
"You are not the only ones who despise that man," she interrupted. "Even Albert despises him—and the feeling, I know, is mutual. That is why I know Hochstetter won't wait to grab me to spite Albert, whether or not he thinks I know anything about where he went. I covered for you all that day because I had no desire to help Hochstetter… and because, perhaps, a day like this would come where I would need your help."
"So this is blackmail?" Hogan asked, realizing that there was no point in denying it any longer.
"No!" Gertrude insisted. "This is asking—begging—you for help! For the slimmest chance that someday, after the war ends, that I might be able to contact my brother one more time!" She looked back at LeBeau and Newkirk. "I bear no ill will for what you did to me—truly, I do not. You did what you had to do to save that girl, and to survive here when you two were never meant to be soldiers. And you, Colonel Hogan, I also bear no ill will towards; Albert respected you, you know. I understand why." She struggled to keep her emotions in check. "I… I am even willing to be your prisoner again, if that is what it will take. I would sooner take my chances as your prisoner, rather than as Hochstetter's."
Silence filled the room again.
"Colonel?" Newkirk asked, after some time.
"What?" Hogan asked, clearly stressed.
"Sir, I know I'll never be as good a right 'and man to you as Kinch was, but I try me best."
"Say your piece."
"If 'ochstetter was to pick 'er up… Well, you know the kind of questioning 'e does. Frau Linkmeyer's suspicions of us would come out at some point."
"That is all that demon needs to come after us," LeBeau added.
"Well, if you two are willing to put your feet in it, it's a cinch Carter and Baker will, too," Hogan realized. He turned back to Gertrude after mulling it over for several more minuites and weighing out all possible options. "Congratulations, Frau Linkmeyer—you're going to London."
"As… as a prisoner?" she asked.
"…As a civilian to be kept under close surveillance," Hogan said. "You'll be in the custody of three American fliers along the way, and you'll be kept under some sort of supervision in London. You'll probably be questioned about your brother and his possible whereabouts, but I guarantee you they, at least, will accept your denials."
She broke into grateful sobs, nodding in thanks.
"Alright, we need to move fast. LeBeau, pack up this meal to go," Hogan ordered. "The two of you will walk Frau Linkmeyer out of here and to our barracks; tell Schultz that she needs some fresh air, and I'll go keep Klink busy. After she changes, I want you, Newkirk, to dress up in her clothes and go out the gate in Burkhalter's staff car; I'll have Carter accompany you as a driver and you abandon the car when you get the first chance and come back."
"Right, Sir—WOT!?" Newkirk asked, as it sunk in.
"Sorry, Old Boy," Hogan said, in a mock English accent. "What happened here just now proves it—sometimes in war, one is forced into strange positions!"
Newkirk grumbled as LeBeau snarked, and as the corporals left Klink's quarters with Gertrude, she looked back at Hogan once more—her eyes were still wet, but a look of genuine gratitude was on her face.
"Danke," she managed to say.
Hogan acknowledged her with a nod, reflecting on how he'd missed that there was so much more to the "gnadige Frau" than he ever could have imagined.