The Substitute

Chapter One

This story originally began in 2012...and then after two or three chapters it sat. It again saw the light of day back in 2017-during the SSSW contest, when a prompt fit the story and spurred more writing. Unfortunately, the story became too long to submit, so I put it aside, writing the bulk of it back in early 2018. And then it sat again; for multiple reasons, (stress most likely) I couldn't seem to consolidate the multiple first chapters saved in my computer. After asking for help from various sources...thank you, 6 of 12, Abracadebra and Eva for your offers to assist and your insight...L.E. Wigman was able to give me what I needed to break out of the editing block and get me going again. Thank you L.E. for your work and for your assistance!

General Albus Burkhalter's posting of career officer and bookkeeper Wilhelm Klink to Luft Stalag 13 was a gamble that paid off. The milquetoast veteran of the Great War somehow managed to settle into his role and run an efficient POW camp. The small work camp had been a revolving door until Klink took over. After that, and with the arrival of Colonel Robert E. Hogan, successful escapes were a thing of the past. Of course, some of the enlisted men tried, and they were quickly caught. Hogan, despite being an officer who was obligated to try to escape, realized that his job was to sit out the war safely, and to take care of the men now under his wing; and this he did.

Two years into Hogan's captivity, he was still the Senior POW officer. Captured officers were transferred to an Oflag, while Hogan remained. He was assisted by some of the enlisted men who resided in Barrack's Two, where Hogan was billeted. To Klink's glee, one of these men was an accomplished chef, and Corporal LeBeau frequently prepared dinners for visiting bigwigs.

Klink enjoyed a delightful back and forth with Colonel Hogan. Of course, he knew he always had the upper hand, as the officer was fully resigned to his fate. They would bargain. Hogan would offer occasional advice or suggestions. No one got hurt. No one escaped. No one starved; and Klink did not have to shop for extra-long underwear. Burkhalter, the staff person in charge of POW camps in this sector, was kept mollified and happy, as Klink's success reflected upon him. Moreover, the miserable Major Hochstetter and his wacky conspiracy theories about Hogan had nothing to show for his paranoia. So, yes, thought Klink one day, his feet resting on his desk as he cleaned off his monocle, considering the violence and carnage, his war so far was better than most, and he intended for it to remain that way.

The phone jolted the Kommandant out of his contemplation, and he quickly started, just missing flinging the wooden chair backwards. "Yes, what is it?" he asked in an annoyed tone. He immediately sat up in attention in his chair. "Yes, sir, General. How are you? What?" Klink gazed at his empty desk. For once, he had caught up with his paperwork. "No. Nothing pressing. I what? To Berlin?" Klink swallowed the lump in his throat. Berlin scared him almost as much as the east. His POW camp was immune from bombing, unless the allies made a terrible mistake, but Berlin was right in their sights, bombed in the day by the Americans and at night by the RAF. But, he could not decline an order. "Yes, General. I understand." Klink hung up his phone then immediately went over to the outer office and asked the guard to fetch Colonel Hogan at once. He then opened his desk drawer and removed the bottle of antacids he kept in there. Opening the cap, he realized with a start that he had consumed this bottle in less than one week. He rubbed his stomach and shrugged off the familiar upset, chalking it up to butterflies due to the upcoming trip.

"Don't worry Colonel; you should be proud of yourself. Giving a talk. After all, it's your record and experience. Imagine..." Hogan swept his arm back and forth, and then ended on the humidor. He swiftly removed a cigar. The Kommandant was too upset to care. "Seeing old Bubblehead's bunker. You'll be safe. At least when you get in there. Make sure your driver knows his way around the capital." Hogan grinned as he lit the cigar.

"I know they want me to speak to the director of the POW camps." Klink's chest puffed up like a peacock at the thought. "I wonder if I'll get a certificate."

"Without a doubt, sir. Already framed. "Hogan had tried to think of a plausible reason to keep Klink at camp for the week, but so far nothing presented itself. The Kommandant had been gone before, and they had managed. He might try a few escapes to get his replacement in trouble, if things went sour. "We'll miss you, sir." Hogan stood up and offered a salute. "And the men will be praying for your safe return."

"Well, thank you.. I ….Hoooogaaaan! Why do they need to pray for my safe….Oh, right. The flight across the country."

"Chances are the Allies won't go after one little plane." Hogan reassured him.

"Yes, but they may go after the staff car." Klink put his head in hands for a moment. He took a deep breath and looked up. "I must do what I must do."

Klink had the evening to work on his speech, pack and get ready for his replacement. Berlin was sending a lower level staff officer from the department, a man who conducted multiple inspections, but with no direct experience in commanding a camp. Hearing this, Klink was afraid that the camp would go to hell during his absence. Before leaving, he called both Hogan and Schultz into his office for last minute instructions and warnings.

"I expect everyone to be on their best behavior," he told Schultz and Hogan, leaving the colonel feeling like he was being left with a babysitter.

"I guarantee, sir, as an officer and a gentleman, that we will not cause any trouble." Hogan had already notified London of the situation, and aside from emergency rescues and vital sabotage, London agreed to put any missions on hold.

Schultz glanced at Hogan, who gave the sergeant an almost imperceptible nod.

"Excellent. Well then. I expect to hear nothing from you while I'm gone." Klink said. "Oh, and General Burkhalter will be accompanying me for part of the trip; then he is going on a short leave."

That's just dandy, Hogan thought. Burkhalter, although not dumb, was somewhat pliable and often reasonable. Not for the first time, he wished Gruber, Klink's adjutant and a known quantity, was still stationed here. He let out a breath and smiled. "Good luck, sir," he said with a salute. Hogan knew there was a fine line between making Klink look good and losing the Kommandant if he looked too good. As Klink left, Hogan turned to Schultz in the compound. "Well, Schultz. Let's see who shows up to run this circus."

"It better not be a circus," Schultz replied. "Although we do have plenty of fleas," he muttered.

"Klink give you the usual speech, Colonel?" Carter handed Hogan a mug of coffee as the colonel walked into the barracks.

"Yes." Hogan took a sip of the hot beverage as he gratefully warmed his hands on the mug. "The usual. Don't pick on the substitute."

"We used to pick on our substitute teachers." Newkirk looked up at the ceiling and began to reminisce. "Had this one teacher. Should have had a target printed right on his shirt." He chuckled. "One time, he asked for attendance and we all gave him fictional names. From literature."

"What happened?" Carter asked.

"We all got a good rap with the ruler."

"No fooling around. Everyone needs to be on their best behavior or we won't get a rap with a ruler. I won't be able to get men out of the cooler," Hogan said. "Let's just wait and see who comes."

HhhhH

Klink's trip in the staff car hit a snag on the way to the airport. The Kommandant was still not feeling well. Assuming his recurring severe indigestion was a case of nerves, he remained silent on the way there, but he began to sweat profusely, and by the time he arrived at the airport, he was severely ill.

His driver, a concerned Langenscheidt, waited while the Kommandant attempted to make his way out of the car. "Sir, you don't look well."

"I..I..." Klink stammered. "That, Corporal, is an understatement. His award now completely forgotten, Klink knew that if he stepped out of the car, he would probably fall to the ground.

"Forgive me, sir if I'm overstepping, but I think you need to see a doctor."

Klink nodded. "Tell the plane I'm not coming and take me to the hospital."

Hogan and the other residents were relaxing; waiting for the substitute Kommandant to arrive, when Schultz opened the door and walked in.

"What's the matter, Schultz? You look like you've had a fright." Hogan walked over to the sink and washed out his mug.

"Colonel Hogan, I have some bad news."

At this, Hogan's stomach gave a lurch. The entire barracks fell silent, and Hogan prayed that the Kommandant's plane was not involved in an accident.

"The Kommandant will not be going to Berlin for his award. Instead, he is at the hospital in Hammelburg. "He is not feeling well," Schultz quickly added.

Hogan's stomach returned to its appropriate position.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"His gallbladder," Schultz said sadly. "He had a bad attack in the car, and it had to come out." He sighed. "From what I was told, I don't think the Kommandant will be able to return to work for at least six weeks."

"Six weeks!" Hogan gasped.

"The major being sent over from Berlin has been recalled," Schultz stated. "They are looking for another man to take over until Kommandant Klink can return."

HhHhH

Hogan walked over to the window and glanced out at the compound. The new Kommandant was expected to arrive sometime this afternoon. No one could tell him who was assigned, except that the man worked at a desk job.

The men did not have long to wait as a staff car pulled into camp a few minutes after Hogan finished his coffee. An Oberst, followed by two staff officers, exited the car and followed Schultz into the Kommandanteur. Before the men had a chance to set up the coffee pot and listen in, residents of the hut who were outside, entered and informed the rest that prisoners were ordered to fall out.

"Its showtime," Hogan said with a grin on his face, as the exited. "And, remember...Everyone is on their best behavior. Newkirk, that means you."

"I'm sad you think I'd pull something, guv'nor." Newkirk chuckled, knowing the colonel was teasing, but he, along with everyone else formed two perfectly straight lines and stood quietly while the temporary Kommandant, followed by Schultz, headed his way.

"Oberst, this is our Senior POW officer. Colonel Robert E. Hogan. Colonel Hogan, Oberst Karl Werner." Schultz always admired how the American officer was like a chameleon, his behavior, tone and carriage changing depending on which German he had the pleasure or bad fortune to meet. This time, Hogan was legitimately wary, taking his time to judge Klink's substitute. The few times Hogan had to tangle with someone in a similar situation, the camp population was on their best behavior, and monkey business kept to a minimum. Or, at least, Schultz knew the monkey business was not obvious. Those deemed too dangerous to keep hanging around were mysteriously sent away or unfortunately, disposed of, leaving a gap that brought Kommandant Klink back, forthwith.

Hogan stepped smartly forward, saluted Werner, who saluted back. "Colonel," Hogan said. He noticed the Oberst was not the typical Aryan specimen ordered from the Reich's version of the Sear's catalog. Werner looked to be in his mid-thirties, around Hogan's age. Shorter than Hogan, around 5'8", the German carried a bit of a paunch in the middle. His hair was dark-brown and he wore glasses.

Werner quickly sized up the Senior POW officer. He knew the American was around his age; but despite being a POW, the colonel appeared younger and more fit. His eyes displayed both intelligence and a wariness.

The German staff officer took pride in his eye for detail as well as his obsessive compulsion to follow orders and rules. He walked around with a copy of the Geneva Convention in his pocket, although he was forced to admit, it was difficult for many of the camps to follow the regulations to the letter.

"Ah,yes. Colonel Robert Hogan. From the 504th. Sole officer in a camp full of enlisted men." The Kommandant stepped to the side and his eyes traveled down the two lines of men standing behind Hogan. "I see," he muttered. "I have heard there have been no successful escapes."

"We've tried," Hogan replied.

"No doubt. I will inspect the rest of the prisoners, and then take a tour of the camp. I expect that during Kommandant Klink's absence, everyone-the guards and the prisoners- will be cooperative. You are dismissed, Colonel."

Hogan saluted, turned on a dime, and dismissed his men.

"Doesn't seem to be a friendly bloke, does he?" Newkirk, joined by the rest of the core team, commented as he sidled up next to the colonel.

"I don't need friendly. I just need someone to push papers and stay out of our way." Hogan, arms folded across his chest, stood still, watching as Werner, now accompanied by his two aides, quickly inspected the other prisoners in sight, and then began their walk around the camp.

Schultz, too, had a bad feeling. "Colonel Hogan," he whispered. "Please don't do anything to make him mad. He comes from Berlin and ….This is not like other camps."

"Don't worry, Schultz." Hogan grinned and gave the sergeant a friendly pat. "It's just temporary. In six weeks, everything will be back to normal." He squinted from the sun glare as he watched Werner and his aides walk across the compound.

Hogan raised his eyebrow as he noticed Schultz slightly shaking his head.

The prisoners had no chance to eavesdrop as the tour took close to an hour to complete. Several times during that hour, men reported that the new Kommandant was taking copious notes and photos as he made his way around the compound.

Fortunately, for Werner and his aides, this temporary command was a small camp. According to the census, the camp held mostly men from the British Commonwealth, followed by Americans and French. Other Western Europeans made up the rest of the population. After completing the inspection, the colonel began his first administrative task, checking the books. To his surprise, everything seemed to be in order, and the figures matched what they had in Berlin. He expected some money laundering, but either Klink was an honest or diligent manager, or he had hidden what he had skimmed off so well, that for now, it would not be found. He suspected the former, as he heard through the grapevine that Klink was easily frightened, a trait that did not mesh with his record on camp discipline. As Werner stood up from the chair behind the desk, he made a mental note to ask people around town if they had seen the Kommandant spending extravagantly. After imbibing in the sherry he discovered on Klink's sideboard, he called in his aides, gave them some written orders and then decided to go into town the following day.

I needed to get Klink away for a while, so I decided to use a gallbladder attack...while some can suffer for quite some time, it can sneak up on you as well. While nowadays they usually take it out with laparoscopic surgery, back then, I figured recovery time could be around 6 weeks. My dad had his out in 78 and it was quite a major operation even back then.