[Sunday 08 NOV
1942//0045hrs local]
Bridge over the
River Mainz
****
As
soon as Newkirk gave the 'all clear,' the others joined them on the bridge.
Hogan turned to Carter. "You're the expert, Sergeant. Tell us what want us
to do."
Stunned,
Carter stared at his Commanding Officer. "Who, me?" he squeaked. He
glanced at the others, taking in their expressions. As always, Kinchloe
appeared neutral, LeBeau encouraging, Newkirk skeptical. A cold feeling of
panic started to take hold of him. He turned back to Hogan.
And
was stopped by his C.O.'s quiet, sure expression. Infused by a sudden feeling
of warmth, Carter nodded quickly and began to rap out confident instructions.
"LeBeau,
Newkirk...I need you to run the wire to the midpoint on the bridge. Kinch,
you'll help me set the explosives--"
"Gee,
thanks," Kinchloe muttered.
"Sir?"
Carter looked uncomfortable.
"Yeah?"
"Um...we'll
need someone on lookout duty." Smiling, Hogan nodded.
"And
where should I be posted?" he asked, straight-faced.
Pointing
with his right arm, Carter said seriously, "Keep watch on the approach
from our left--you know, sir--the way we just came."
"Carter..."
Newkirk's voice dripped with disgust. He grabbed Carter's right arm and roughly
pushed it down, while simultaneously raising his left. "That's your other
left, mate!"
Carter
looked down at his hands, momentarily confused. "What?" he mumbled.
"God
help us all," Newkirk muttered. A low rumbling from his C.O.'s direction
stopped him. He and the others glanced over at Hogan who was covering his
mouth, visibly trying not to laugh out loud. Soon, the others followed suit.
Clueless,
Carter glanced from one to the other. "What's so funny, guys?"
"Fate,
Carter," Hogan said. "She's pulling a great big practical joke
us."
"I
don't get it, sir," Carter said seriously.
Placing
his arm around the young sergeant's shoulder, Hogan said reassuringly,
"Don't worry, Carter. You just blow up this bridge, and I guarantee you'll
have the last laugh."
With
that Hogan saluted the bemused young man, and took his position on lookout
duty. Glancing down at his hands, Hogan chuckled again, shaking his head.
****
[Sunday 08 NOV
1942//0235hrs local]
Bridge over the
River Mainz
****
Hogan
heard the patrol before he saw them. The changing of the guard! He looked over
his shoulder. He could just make out the dim outlines of his men working. He
didn't have time to warn them.
Quickly,
Hogan holstered his weapon and jumped to his feet. He walked out into the open
and held out his hand.
"Halt!"
he shouted. The small patrol stopped. Hogan didn't dare look over his shoulder
to see what his men were doing. Mentally straightening his shoulders, he
started towards the patrol, taking slow, measured steps.
He
stopped less than a meter from the Sergeant of the Guard. Clicking his heels,
Hogan's right arm shot out in sharp salute.
"Heil
Hitler!" he barked. The sergeant automatically returned the salute.
Assuming an arrogant air, Hogan walked up to him, his hands behind his back.
"~Sergeant, do you know what time it is?~"
"Jahwohl,
Herr Oberst!"
"~No,
sergeant,~" Hogan returned, shaking his head regretfully. "~I am
afraid that you do not. Otherwise, you would have been here five minutes
ago!~"
The
sergeant looked visibly shaken. "~I do not understand, Mein Herr,~"
he said.
"~Of
course, you do not understand, Sergeant!~" Hogan screamed. "~If you
understood, then you would not be late! Would you?!~"
"~But,
Herr Oberst, we are not late--~"
"~Are
you saying that I am incorrect, Sergeant?~" Hogan screamed.
"Nein,
Herr Oberst!" The sergeant's forehead broke out in a sheen of
perspiration.
"~Then
you admit that you are late!~"
"Jahwohl,
Herr Oberst!" the hapless sergeant yelled, and then shaking his
head, stammered "~I-I mean, nein, Herr Oberst!~"
"~Well,
what is it, Sergeant?~" Hogan pressed. "~Yes or no?
Late or not?~"
"~I-I--~"
While
the sergeant stumbled over his response, Hogan glanced over the clearly
frightened noncom's shoulder and saw Newkirk signaling that they were finished.
Hogan nodded and immediately turned to the Sergeant of the Guard.
"~Sergeant--just
this once--I am going to overlook this carelessness on your
part,~" he said kindly. "~However, I assure you than any repetition
of such a dereliction of duty, and I'll personally see to your transfer to the
Russian Front!~" He leaned in closer. "~Do I make myself clear?"
Swallowing
nervously, the sergeant nodded. "Jahwohl, Herr Oberst!"
At
this moment, the distinct, high-pitched sound of a train whistle resounded in
the distance. Straightening to his full height, Hogan clicked his heels and
snapped out a salute.
"Carry
on, Sergeant! Heil Hitler!"
"Heil
Hitler!" The sergeant of the guard moved his patrol out on the double,
all the while screaming at them, accusing them of incompetence, and being a
disgrace to Der Fuehrer. As they quick marched past the guards they were
relieving, the sergeant of the guard never noticed that the other patrol
included a single Black soldier.
Hogan
and his men hurriedly took a position in the thickets. Carter lovingly held a
large black box in his hands, the detonator. "Boy, we've set out enough
explosives to take out ten bridges!"
"That's
great, Carter," Hogan muttered. "Just be sure to take out this
one!"
"Oh,
yes, sir," Carter said. "As soon as I connect the red wire to the
left post and the blue wire to the right, and then press this plunger ~ka-blooey!!~
The whole thing will go up like a big Roman candle!"
They
waited, the tense minutes ticking by. Hogan glanced at his watch. 03:05! They
were cutting it close. At that moment, the clouds cleared for a second, and by
the dim light of the crescent moon, the heroes caught a glimpse of the freight
train rounding the bend that led to the bridge.
"Ready!"
Hogan ordered. Carter made a move to set the detonator. Hogan quickly grabbed
his wrist. "Not yet!" he hissed. They waited, watching the train as
it slowly chugged its way to the bridge's midpoint.
"Blimey,
at the rate that bloody thing's traveling, we could've been out there setting
the charges and still had time for a spot of tea afterwards."
LeBeau
gave Newkirk a look filled with disdain. "Tea...~humph~!
That is why the Allies may yet lose the war. The English can't do anything
without first stopping for tea." Newkirk grabbed the small Frenchman by
the collar and drew back his arm, fist ready.
"Quiet,
you clowns!" Kinchloe muttered. Disgustedly, Newkirk released LeBeau who
stuck out his tongue in childish defiance.
"Steady,
Carter..." Hogan intoned. "Steady...not yet...hold it...Now!"
Hogan
brought his fist down.
Carter
immediately pushed down on the plunger. Hogan and the others ducked and pressed
their hands against their ears.
And
nothing happened.
Hogan
stared opened-mouthed at the bridge and the freight train that was still
chugging safely along. He glared first at Carter and then at the detonator box.
The wires! Carter had cross-connected them--the red wire was connected to the
right post and the blue wire to the left!
Growling
under his breath, Hogan yanked the box from Carter's hands and quickly changed the
wires around. Pushing down on the plunger, he waited, his blood pounding in his
ears.
There
was an instant of silence in which a million thoughts of failure flashed
through his mind. This was closely followed by the homemade charges going off,
one after the other, in quick succession. The others slapped Hogan on the back
in hearty congratulations.
Looking
down at his hands, Carter shook his head. "I can't understand it...I
could've sworn--?"
Laughing,
Hogan reached over to Carter and playfully pulled down on his helmet brim.
"Good work, Sergeant!"
Carter
beamed at the compliment.
They
watched for a few minutes longer as the bridge continued to go up in an
exciting display of pyrotechnics. Within seconds, the train, screeching like a
wounded animal, slowly plunged into the black, raging waters of the Mainz
below.
****
[Sunday 08 NOV
1942//0545hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
tunnel under Barracks #6
****
Sgt.
MacPherson paced.
Where
were they? When Hogan and his team did not return by roll call,
MacPherson ordered all of the men out of the barracks to formation. He looked
at the detonator sitting on the ground. Carter had preset it before they'd
left. He glanced at his watch one more time. 05:45!
Fifteen
minutes late! Klink had probably called out the dogs already. He thought about
Hogan's last orders. They were explicit and to the point, leaving no room for
doubt--"Blow the tunnel if we don't return!"
The
words rang in his head..."if we don't return!" He
checked his watch again. 05:47! He had to face facts. Hogan and the others had
either been caught or killed...or both.
His
shoulders sagging, MacPherson reached a decision. He knelt next to the
detonator box and gently jiggled the wires the way Carter had shown him to
ensure a tight connection.
Pausing
for a moment, he sent up a silent a prayer for the souls of his comrades and
pushed the plunger...
****
[Sunday 08 NOV
1942//0550hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
tunnel under Barracks #6
****
...And
nothing happened!
MacPherson
stared at the detonator, and raising the plunger, pushed it down again. And
again. Sitting back on heels, he shook his head in disbelief.
"It's
the last thing he asked me to do, and I blew it!"
"Good
thing for us that you did, Mac!"
Freezing,
MacPherson found himself surrounded by several pairs of German storm trooper's
boots. Following the boots up slowly, he swallowed as he saw the German
uniforms, and then almost fainted when he looked further up at the grinning
faces of the five heroes.
Unmindful
of protocol, MacPherson jumped up and threw his arms around his startled C.O.
and quickly followed up with hugging each man.
"You
guys sure are a sight for sore eyes!" he said laughing. "I thought
for sure that you'd been killed or captured!"
"Oh,
ye of little faith!" Newkirk chided with a smirk. They were quickly
shedding their Luftwaffe uniforms.
"Get
the lead out, guys!" Hogan said sharply. "Those guards out on the
perimeter weren't looking for mushrooms!"
"Y'know,
I just don't get it," MacPherson said, slightly bemused. "Carter, I
followed your instructions to the letter. How come the tunnel didn't blow? Were
the explosives duds?"
Shrugging
into his bomber jacket, Hogan walked over to where the detonator box sat on
floor. Eyes narrowed, he crouched down and studied its set up. Smiling, he
pointed at the wires, shaking his head.
"Carter,
remind me never to ask you for directions."
"Huh?"
"Blue
wire--left post. Red wire--right post," Hogan explained. Carter's face
fell.
"I
did it again, huh, sir?"
Turning
to the ladder leading upstairs, Hogan nodded. "Yup. You did it again,
Carter. Good work!"
****
[Sunday 08 NOV
1942//0605hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
Barracks #6
****
"Mon
Colonel!" LeBeau called from the door. "It is the Kommandant
and his goons!"
Carter
was just emerging from the tunnel entrance. He was the last one out. Hogan
urgently waved at him to hurry up. As soon as Carter was out, Kinchloe and
MacPherson quickly covered the tunnel entrance, and then together pushed the
heavy sink back into place directly above it.
Hogan
knew that returning to their own barracks was definitely out of the question.
Snapping his fingers, he looked at Newkirk.
"Cards!
Start dealing!"
Nodding,
Newkirk sat and dealt out six hands without bothering to shuffle or cut. The
others hurriedly sat down and grabbed their cards.
"Whatever
cigarettes you've got on you! Toss 'em on the table!" Hogan ordered
sharply. A careless pile of cigarettes instantly appeared.
"Here
they come!" LeBeau hissed. He hurried over to the common table and joined
the others, picking up the cards that were waiting for him.
The
men waited tensely.
The
door burst open. Several guards stormed in, followed by Schultz and Kommandant
Klink. As the guards surrounded the men who sat, hunched over their cards,
Newkirk went into a rapid commentary.
"Colonel,
sir...it's your bet."
Hogan
studied his cards bleakly. Then looking left and right, a slight smirk played
on his lips. "I'll call your five, Carter...and I'll raise
you five!"
He
counted out five cigarettes and then five more, and tossed them into the
growing pile in the center of the table.
Klink
glared at the prisoners who had blatantly missed the required morning formation--a
direct violation of camp regulations. His fury rising, Klink finally exploded.
"Ho-gannnn!!"
"Ah...Good
morning, Kommandant," Hogan said easily, not looking up from his cards.
"Why don'tcha pull up a seat and join us for a friendly game--?"
"Col.
Hogan!" Klink shouted. "You and your men are on report!"
"Well,
it was just a friendly invitation, Kommandant. But I understand," he
smiled boyishly. "Poker isn't for everybody. Takes a man with a stomach
made of steel to play against Corporal Newkirk here."
"Kinch,"
Newkirk broke in. "The Colonel raised five...it's your bet."
Kinchloe
folded his cards and tossed them in. "Too rich for me," he muttered.
"Col.
Hogan, you were not at morning roll call! Are you going to tell me that you've
been playing cards all night long?"
"Is
there a problem, Kommandant?" Hogan asked innocently.
"Col.
Hogan, did you not think that there was something amiss when the alarm went off
and the dogs were let loose? Did it never occur to you that--just perhaps--it
was you that we were looking for?"
Hogan
blinked, his eyes wide.
"Is
that what all the noise was about?" he asked. "I don't
understand, Kommandant. We were right here all the time."
"Right
here? In Barracks Six?" Klink asked, his low
tone dangerous. "I see." Unexpectedly, he leaned in over the table
until he was nose to nose with Hogan. "And just what were you doing out of
your barracks all night long, Col. Hogan?"
"Playing
cards," he said calmly. Again, he grinned boyishly, his dimples breaking
through.
Klink
jerked back in exasperation. Stalking a few feet away, his back to them, he
spoke haughtily. "Regulations clearly state that no one will be outside of
their assigned barracks after lights out. No exceptions!"
He
spun on his heel and glared at Hogan. Straightening to his full height, Klink
looked down his nose at the American senior POW.
"Col.
Hogan, you and your men are hereby ordered to spend thirty days in the cooler,
with all privileges revoked!"
"Thirty
days!" Hogan protested, in his best whiny voice. He threw down his cards
and stood up. "But Kommandant...have a heart. My men and I were just
getting better acquainted. I mean, look at us. Separated from our families, our
friends. All we have now is each other."
"I
am sorry, Col. Hogan," Klink responded. "My decision is final."
"Sorry,
guys," Hogan apologized sadly. "I guess what I heard back in England
about 'the Scourge of the Eighth Air Force' wasn't true after all. Come on.
Let's go." The others pushed back on their chairs and got up reluctantly.
"Uh...excuse
me, Col. Hogan," Klink said, tentatively. "What exactly did you hear
about the 'Scourge--' Uh...I mean, about me?"
"Oh,
what's the difference, sir?" Hogan asked. "It wasn't true
anyway." He turned to his men. "Come on, men. Fall in. If we must go,
then we'll go as soldiers. Line up!"
The
others instantly fell into a straight, military line.
"But
what wasn't true, Colonel?" Klink asked.
"Right,
face!" Hogan ordered. The men sharply executed a right
facing movement. All, that is, except Carter who turned in the opposite
direction, straight into LeBeau. Hogan rolled his eyes.
The
small Frenchman muttered something in his own language while grabbing the
confused American and attempting to turn him in the right direction. LeBeau
only succeeded in further confusing Carter and spinning him completely around
several times.
"Carter!
Freeze!" Hogan snapped. Carter froze in place. He was again
facing LeBeau. In a soft, fatherly voice, Hogan added, "Now, Carter, I
want you to turn around until you're looking directly into the back of the head
of the man behind you."
Chagrinned,
Carter turned meekly until he was facing in the same direction as everyone
else. Hogan sighed and shook his head. He realized that Klink was talking to
him.
"Col.
Hogan, please...!" Klink said, trying to again attract the senior POW's
attention.
"Oh, uh--what did you ask,
Kommandant?"
"I
said--"
"Oh,
I remember," Hogan said, snapping his fingers. "The rumors I heard
about you back in England." He held up his hand. "Excuse me for a
moment, sir. Carter! Shoulders back, chin straight, stomach
in!"
"Yes,
sir!"
"Col.
Hogan--" Klink began, frustrated.
"Oh,
right, Kommandant! I heard that the 'Scourge of the Eighth Air Force' was a man
of compassion and--"
Schultz
snorted under his breath and several of the guards rolled their eyes.
"Schuu-ultz!"
Klink yelled. "Unless you wish to find yourself on the Russian Front
tomorrow, you will keep still! And that goes for all of
you!" he added, waving his riding crop at the other guards.
"Forward,
march!" Hogan ordered. The prisoners stepped forward, but
Klink was immediately standing in front of them.
"Halt!"
he yelled. Newkirk, who was leading the column, 'accidentally' stumbled into
Klink. He quickly grabbed the Kommandant under the pretext of keeping him from
falling over.
"Oh,
I'm right sorry, sir." Newkirk apologized profusely, while his hands
expertly patted Klink down. "Did I injure you, sir?"
Klink
struggled to get Newkirk's hands off of him. Finally, he caught them by the
wrists and with a final jerk, slapped them away. "Yes! I am fine!"
he complained.
Hogan
was suddenly next to Klink. "As I was saying, sir. The boys back home had
a very high opinion of you. They said that there wasn't a camp Kommandant in
all of Germany that was fairer or more compassionate than you." He paused,
shrugging. "Like I said. The rumors must've been about someone else."
He again ordered his men to start marching forward.
"No!"
Klink said quickly. "I mean--Halt!" The column
dutifully halted again. "No, Col. Hogan...the rumors were about
me," he said. "Although I believe in maintaining discipline, I am not
without compassion for the prisoners."
He
began pacing, holding onto his riding crop with one hand, and waving his other
arm to emphasize his point.
Hogan
stood with his hands behind his back, his expression completely guileless. He
glanced sideways at his men, giving them a knowing look. LeBeau snorted softly.
Kinchloe jabbed him it the ribs. Klink glanced over at them, his expression
suddenly suspicious. The men stared back, eyes front, expressions blank.
He
walked up to Hogan and squinted at him through his monocle. "Col. Hogan--just
this once--I am going to overlook this breach of discipline on your
part. However, any repetition of such a serious infraction of the rules will be
dealt with harshly! Do I make myself clear?"
As
Klink spoke, Hogan realized that the Kommandant's words were almost an echo of
what he'd said to the Sergeant of the Guard at the bridgehead. He wasn't sure
whether to be relieved that Klink had given them a reprieve, or feel insulted
that he'd used his own words against him.
"Oh,
um...quite clear, Kommandant!"
"Very
well," Klink said curtly. Nodding at the other prisoners, he stalked out
the door. He was closely followed by Schultz and the rest of the guards. The
Allied prisoners stood stock still until all the Germans had exited the
barracks.
As
soon as the door closed, they broke into cheers, slapping each other on the
back.
"Boy,
sir," Carter called. "That was really something."
"Yeah,
sir," Kinchloe said with quiet admiration. "You sure did it
again."
Newkirk
waved at the pile of cigarettes on the table. "Sir, I'm sure I speak for
all the men, when I say that you earned each and every one of these
lovelies."
"Oui,
mon Colonel!" LeBeau agreed quickly.
Hogan
shook his head. "Thanks, but, no thanks, fellas! I appreciate the thought,
but to be honest, I'm more of a cigar man myself."
"In
that case, sir," Newkirk said, pulling out a handful of cigars from his
battledress jacket. "Have these on me...and Kommandant
Klink!"
****
[Sunday 08 NOV
1942//0635hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
Main compound
****
The
stillness in the compound was reminiscent of the eye of a hurricane as Hogan
and his men emerged from Barracks Six. When it became obvious that they were
neither under arrest nor dead, the rest of the Allied prisoners broke ranks and
started running towards them, cheering.
In
a spontaneous show of emotion, the POWs lifted Hogan and his team of operatives
above their heads and began parading them around the exercise compound.
As
the guards looked on bemusedly, the Allies started singing 'Yankee Doodle
Dandy,' followed it with 'Hail Britannia,' and ended with a resounding chorus
of 'Le Marseilles.'
Klink
watched the festivities, mouth agape. "What now?" he muttered. He
brought his hand up to his chin, and thoughtfully watched Hogan as he was
carried on the shoulders of his men like a returning Prince.
He
thought about the Gestapo reports that the Mainz Bridge had been destroyed,
along with a freight train hauling a top-secret cargo. Could Hogan be somehow
responsible?
"I
wonder...?" he murmured, and then shaking his head, he turned back into
his office. "Wilhelm...that is ridiculous!"
At
this moment, the gate guard let in Schnitzer's truck. Stepping out of the
driver's side, Schnitzer watched the jubilant proceedings and smiled. The
Underground was already rampant with the rumors that the Mainz Bridge had been
destroyed.
He
fingered the message he was holding in his pocket and the smile faded. What
can Allied High Command be thinking? The Colonel has already done more than
anyone should expect of him.
****
[Sunday 08 NOV
1942//0830hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
Barracks #2
****
The
cheers echoed in his head, but left an empty hole in his stomach.
London
has no right to ask this! he
fumed. We did what they asked. Now it's time to go home! We're POWs...our
job is to escape! Not join the Underground.
He
unfolded the much-rumpled piece of paper that Schnitzer had passed him and
reread the message.
MOST
URGENT
TO: GOLDILOCKS
FROM: PAPA BEAR
HAVE NEW ASSIGNMENT. VOLUNTEERS ONLY. OPERATE A
COVERT UNIT FROM WITHIN STALAG 13 FOR SABOTAGE AND ESPIONAGE. ESTABLISH POW
SAFETY LINE. TRAIN AND ORGANIZE LOCAL UNDERGROUND CELLS, RECRUIT NEW MEMBERS.
TAKE COMMAND OF ALL UNDERGROUND ACTIVITIES IN AREA SURROUNDING STALAG 13. AWAIT
REPLY.
Hogan
crumpled it in his hand. 'Most urgent,' he says...More like, 'Most
idiotic!' But even as he fumed over being placed in such a spot, Hogan's
mind raced with the possibilities.
A
covert operations right under the Jerries' noses? In the toughest POW camp in
all of Germany? He closed his eyes as he visualized what such an operation
could accomplish.
"We
could start by blowing up the Engineer ammo dump," he muttered, a slight
grin playing on the corner of his lips. "And the anti-tank unit that's
nearby. There certainly isn't a lack of bridges and tunnels that could use a
little push to send them into forced obsolescence."
He
scowled, shaking his head. Oh, no, you don't, Colonel! You are not
going to talk yourself into accepting this ridiculous, harebrained assignment!
But
think of the difference we could make,
he argued. A team of highly trained, highly motivated soldiers operating
indefinitely behind enemy lines--think of what it could mean to the war effort.
I've
been grounded! Remember? As soon as I'm wheels down back in
England, I'll be flying a desk. But this? It's a chance to make a difference.
To keep on fighting.
Hogan
paused in his ruminations.
But I can't to do this alone. And I can't ask the others to do this. They have families waiting back home. They deserve a chance to--
"Colonel?"
Kinchloe stood uncertainly at the door. "Sir...may we come in?"
Hogan
looked up, startled from his personal musings. "Oh, of course, Kinch. Come
on in." He waited for his men to enter and was surprised by the large
number of bodies that were suddenly crowding inside his small office.
"Uh,
guys...I don't think this place is big enough for everybody!" he half-joked.
"That's
too bad, sir," Kinchloe sad quietly, "'cause there's a lot of other
guys who are waiting outside."
Hogan
stood on his toes and tried to see over the heads of the large crowd. He gave
them all a curious stare.
"What's
going on, Kinch?" he asked.
"Sir,
Schnitzer told us about the communique from Allied HQ," Kinchloe
explained.
"He
what?" Hogan asked annoyed. "Whatever happened to 'Top
Secret'?" Grumbling, he muttered under his breath,
"Civilians...!"
"That's
just it, sir," Kinchloe said. "People like Schnitzer and Fraulein
Reisert, they mean well, but they're civilians. Untrained. They need
our help here. The way the local Underground is operating--or isn't--as
the case may be--could get a lot of people killed and botch up a whole lot of
missions."
"Which
could also get a lot of our soldiers killed later," Newkirk added.
"Yeah,"
Carter agreed.
"Oui,"
LeBeau echoed.
"Kinch,
what are you trying to say?" Hogan asked, his eyes narrowed. "Come
on, Sergeant...spit it out. In plain English!"
"In
plain English, sir," Kinchloe repeated, nodding. "Okay...it's like
this. The men and I have talked it over, and well, we know that you'd never ask
us or order us to stay for such a crazy operation, so...we're volunteering.
That is, if you're thinking about staying."
Hogan
locked gazes with Kinchloe for a long moment. Satisfied with what he saw there,
he glanced from one to another of the solemn faces before him.
"Do
you men know what you're volunteering for?" he asked. "We're still
POWs. Our protection under the Geneva Convention, if caught, would be
untenable. In fact, we'd probably get shot as spies. If we agree to this, then
we also agree to never attempt an escape, because the entire secrecy of the
mission would depend on the Krauts thinking that they've completely broken our
spirits. That we truly believe the war is over for us."
As
he spoke, his eyes scanned the young, serious faces looking back at him. Boys...boys
trying so hard to be men. "We won't see our families again until this
lousy war ends--if ever. Are you each willing to make such a sacrifice?"
Some
of the young eyes in front of him suddenly dropped or looked away abruptly.
"That's
what I thought."
"Colonel,"
Kinchloe interrupted. "What if you give the men twenty-four hours to decide?
We can make it real democratic...secret ballot and everything."
"A
vote?" Hogan asked. Thinking about the democratic process being utilized
in Nazi Germany caused him to suddenly break out in a smile. "I like that,
Kinch. It seems appropriate somehow."
****
[Monday 09 NOV
1942//0700hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
Barracks #2
****
When
twenty-four hours had passed, Newkirk and Kinchloe carried the sealed box into
Hogan's quarters, locked the door, and began to count the ballots...
Two
hours later, the count was in: 935 Yeas, 20 Nays.
As
Hogan read the report that Kinchloe handed him, a sudden feeling of warmth and
pride swelled within him. He looked up at Kinchloe. No words passed between
them. None were needed.
"We'll
pass the word to Schnitzer," he said. "Tonight, we'll pay a short
visit to Fraulein Reisert and radio London for instructions, supplies, and
whatever else we can think of."
"What
will we do about the guys who want no part of the operation?"
"I'll
see about getting them transferred--a few at a time--to other Stalags. From
there they'll be free to attempt to escape or sit out the war." He
shrugged. "We'll work it the same way with new POWs. Once we're sure that
they're on the up and up--y'know, not ringers--then we'll give 'em the option
to join up or be transferred."
"What
if Klink won't transfer them?" Kinchloe asked.
Hogan
sighed. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we get to it, Kinch."
He smiled. "Let's blow up one obstacle at time, why don't we?"
Kinchloe
smiled in turn. About to leave, he turned back and asked, "Do you have any
instructions for the men, sir?"
Hogan
stared out at the main compound for a few moments, taking in the barbed wire
and guard towers, roving patrols and snarling dogs.
Softly,
he recited, "'Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a
cage.'"
"Excuse
me, sir?"
Hogan
turned around, a smile lighting his features.
"Tell
'em to strap themselves in, Sergeant, 'cause we're in for a wild
ride!"
****
####
