The Substitute

Chapter 8

A huge thank you to Abracadebra for her beta work on this story.

The Jewish and colored prisoners were spending the afternoon holed up in their ramshackle barracks in the rear of the camp, the colonel having decided there were enough work parties available to continue with the construction...at as slow a pace as possible. It was a decent time for a show-down as the Kommandant had gone into town, and the guards obviously didn't care. The Kommandant's aides walked around the camp, trying to look interested. Only Kinch was missing...he was in the tunnels, monitoring the radio and supervising construction crews underground.

"I kind of like having more walkways," Goldman admitted as he dealt another hand of solitaire onto his bunk.

"Maybe we can convince Klink to keep some of them once we get the camp back to normal," Baker responded. He quickly looked up from his book. "Did you hear that?"

An indiscernible noise filtered through the thin cracked walls. The men stopped what they were doing, and listened. The noise became louder and soon a crescendo of shouting and yelling could be heard. Like a well-oiled machine, the men, in unison, jumped off their bunks and went outside. Running towards the center of the prisoner compound, they came across several fights in progress.

"Was this planned?" Pasternack asked Baker.

"Not that I know of," he replied. He hurried over to one of the piles...guards were pouring into the compound, leaving the outer area lacking in supervision, Baker duly noted.

Hogan, he saw was heading out of Barracks 2. Seeing the mess, the colonel took off and quickly appeared in the center of the maelstrom.

Kinch had somehow mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, and he began pulling men apart. The guards were worthless at this point. They meandered through the compound trying to look busy, yelling halfhearted commands in English and German.

"Knock it off!" Hogan yelled. "All of you. That's an order!" One group of men grudgingly pulled themselves apart and stood sheepishly in front of the colonel. Kinch had his pile cleared up and the men were standing still, looking into the ground. The last group, located about 100 feet away, continued sparring, until they sensed the quiet and stopped of their own volition.

Hogan was clearly angry. The last thing he wanted at this point was trouble. He was relieved to see that no one in his core team and secondary team was involved. "What the hell do you think you were doing?" A guard stepped forward. It was Bruno, one of the guards underneath Langenscheidt. Despite the staged prizefight that had taken place between him and Kinch, Bruno was one of the tame guards, and treated the prisoners humanely.

"You heard the colonel." He stepped forward and stopped at the sight of Hogan's hand.

"I'll handle this." Hogan looked at Bruno and the other guards standing around in a semi-circle. The Kommandant's two aides then appeared. They were on the other side of camp, and due to the fencing, they were forced to circumnavigate the compound before standing in front of the only gated entrance. Hogan noted that for future reference.

One of the aides whipped out his notebook. He was clearly angry. "You're all on report. There will be consequences! Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant will not be pleased. He has been most patient with you and your men up until now." Shaking his head, he began writing. "Guards!" He shouted. "I want names."

"Now wait a minute." Hogan walked right up to the aide. His patience growing thin, he tried valiantly to keep his temper in check, lest he cause himself and his men more problems.

He spoke calmly and slowly. "This camp ran smoothly until you and your regulations-obsessed boss got here. My men have had their routine torn apart. You separated them from their friends."

"That is not our concern," said the aide. "The cooler for those who instigated the fight, plus punishment rations. The rest are restricted to barracks until further notice. Double work periods for those left."

He looked up from his notebook at Hogan, who immediately stepped closer to the German. "Before you protest, I have authority to assign these punishments to prisoners. The Kommandant will sign off, I assure you."

Hogan watched as the guards began sorting men. "This has gone far enough. You've locked them in like cattle at night. Everyone has a breaking point," he said now between clenched teeth. "And you can tell your boss it's been reached. Everyone, including the guards, is burnt out. Soldiers depend on routine, and our routine has been…"

Hogan paused midstream as a staff car rolled into the compound. He slumped a bit as he recognized the vehicle as belonging to the Kommandant.

The Oberst exited the vehicle—he had driven himself to town—and walked quickly over to his aides. The men involved in the melee stepped back and tried to blend into the background as they awaited the fireworks.

"What is going on here, Sergeant?"

"We have had a fight. I already have the men on report and punishments allocated. And Colonel Hogan wants to tell my boss, which would be you, sir, that they have reached their breaking point. Things have gone far enough and they are not happy being locked in at night. Apparently, we've interrupted their routine." The aide took one sharp step back and stood at attention while the Kommandant digested the information.

"He's a right tattler," Newkirk whispered to LeBeau.

"The worst kind," LeBeau responded.

"Easy sir," Kinch whispered in Hogan's ear. "We don't want to have anything happen to you, too."

The Kommandant began pacing in front of the American colonel. "Well, well, well," he said. "Perhaps you are the one who has reached his breaking point, Colonel Hogan. You've lost control of the men you command. You are now showing disdain and disrespect for regulations and appropriate routine as laid out in the Geneva Convention and other rules and regulations so ordered by those who now control your lives."

Hogan's eyes followed the Kommandant as he prattled on and on. The colonel was seething, but Kinch was correct. Any wrong step now could lead to serious consequences. He wouldn't put it past this man to have him transferred or questioned. By the time that would get straightened out, who knows what could happen.

"And the regular guards have not performed up to par either, sir." This came from aide number two. "They should have been watching more closely and stopped the fight before it became a melee."

Hogan and his men noticed the guards' consternation. They were used to Klink's behavior and complaints, but normally his little sniffs amounted to nothing. They also knew that with Colonel Hogan in charge, they had a fairly easy job and a safe posting. Their stoicism was beginning to shatter. Only the few guards privy to Schultz and Langenscheidt's mission were calm, but even they were not sure if the sergeant's trip would be a success.

"Yes, their previous close contact and fraternization with the prisoners have made them soft. Once Sergeant Schultz returns from leave, we will go over all these shortcomings. Colonel Hogan, I will l not tolerate any more transgressions or work slow-downs. Yes, I'm sure you are surprised to hear that I have detected such things; and you will be punished as well, rank or no rank."

A small group of prisoners, the ones heading for the cooler, now stood apart from the rest of the group. Hogan gave them a glance and a small nod, and hoped they would recognize the subtle gesture of reassurance. He would deal with them later. Now, he had to contend with double work parties, and men stuck inside their huts.

"Double work parties will have the opposite effect on your rebuilding plans. The teams will get overtired and will slow down," Hogan argued. "Losing men…we may not be able to completely finish a raised hut and…."

"I don't care," the Kommandant snapped. "I don't care if men sleep outside. This will get done."

The compound was again in a state of chaos as the guards tried to separate the fighters from the workers. As the men began to head toward their barracks or their construction projects, a truck rolled through the gate.

"Ah, that must be my supplies," Werner noted. He pointed to his aides. "You go and see to the unloading and checking the paperwork. I'll be in the office." As he turned, another truck rolled in, followed by another.

As the Kommandant paused, Hogan stifled a small grin. "Looks like our order went through," he whispered to his men.

The man driving the first truck jumped out. He was holding paperwork. "Supply order, sir. Including the extra fuel."

"Extra fuel? I didn't order extra fuel. We are only allotted a certain amount. The regulations stipulate it. Where did this come from?" Werner demanded.

"Your camp. Not my problem," the driver stated. "We received the order and here it is. The order is right here." He showed the Kommandant the paperwork, and Hogan stifled another grin as he witnessed the Kommandant's face pale.

"Take it back. It's not ours. A copy of it went to Berlin," he stammered as he realized the implications of the error.

"We have a copy of the order in the office," one aide stated. "That should prove we only ordered the allotted amount."

"Go get it," the Kommandant ordered.

"His superiors will be hard line when it comes to racketeering. They'll think he ordered this for black market sales," Carter whispered to a group of men behind him.

A few of them nodded and smiled, recognizing the work of the core team.

"This is a forgery," the Kommandant, losing his cool, continued to point out. As his aide returned from the office, he stated, "You'll see the original. This is obviously a mistake."

The aide handed the camp's order form to Werner.

"You see, I ordered the correct amount. What is going on here?"

"I'm not sure, Oberst," the driver said. "Except, this camp ordered light bulbs, soap, potatoes, margarine, the normal amount, I've noticed. But these forms clearly show extra fuel and your signature."

"No gonculator?" Olsen laughed.

"And triple the amount of heating fuel. Please sign here."

"I will not sign. I have to call my superiors." He turned. "Somehow I know you have had a hand in this, Hogan. You will pay. Everyone will pay."

"How in the world would we control supply orders? Really, I'm shocked and a bit sad that you would think prisoners would order extra fuel. Are you planning on selling it on the black market?" Hogan used his best incredulous voice to stand up to Werner.

The Kommandant gave Hogan a look and then stomped away, heading for the office. He turned one last time. You will regret this," he warned.

HhHhH

"Finally here, Kommandant. I can see the towers." Hilda patted Klink's hand. It had been a rough trip for everyone. Every patch of rough road made Klink wonder if he had made a mistake. He was hurting, but he valiantly kept his groans to himself. More than anything, he was worried about his camp.

They rolled up to the gates. No one was there.

"What is going on?" Klink asked. "Where is the guard?"

"I don't know, sir." Langenscheidt stepped out of the vehicle and pulled open the gate.

"Something is going on," Langenscheidt said warily. "There appears to be a melee over…over in the prisoners' compound."

Klink strained to take a look. He was seated, covered with a blanket and propped up with pillows, in the back with Hilda, while Langenscheidt and Schultz rode up front. "Bring the car as close as you can."

Hilda glanced out the window as the car inched forward. She let out a small gasp at the sight of the camp. Having been fired immediately after Werner's arrival, she was not prepared for the transformation she saw. The entire prisoner area, or what she surmised was the prisoner area, was surrounded by a fence which snaked erratically around the Stalag in an uneven attempt to keep the barracks and prisoners buildings away from the staff area. Multiple barracks were in various stages of construction, or destruction. Some were raised, while others were coming down. Outside of the prisoner area, wooden walkways snaked around the camp, giving staff a dry path back and forth between buildings.

The new Kommandant began walking again towards his office and then again stopped. "Krauss, Krauss!" he yelled.

"Yes, Oberst." A very harried and worried motor pool sergeant made his way through the crowd and saluted.

"Sergeant Schultz assured me you would be competent. Obviously you are not. And you are no longer a sergeant. You are lucky that is the only consequence of your poor leadership, poor control of the prisoners and your guards."

"But…but…Only moments ago, the prisoners were calm and getting back to work after all the rain."

Werner snapped his fingers. "In this business, things can change in an instant." He looked and spied Hogan several paces behind him. "Oh, and Colonel Hogan, I have not forgotten anything I said."

"I forgot sir, what was it again?"

Krauss stepped backwards several feet and almost fell over Kinch. They looked at each other, and Kinch whispered in the motor pool sergeant's ear. "The colonel will fix it," he whispered. "Once Klink gets back."

Krauss stepped aside, motioning for Kinch to follow. "You sure he's coming back, Kinchloe? So far, whatever can go wrong has gone wrong. And my rates are going up. To make up for loss of pay, now that I lost my rank."

Kinch sighed.

"You know what I'm talking about, Hogan," Werner continued. "The fuel order. It's your fault…and…."

At that moment, Klink's car came to a halt outside the fence. Sergeant Schultz and Langenscheidt emerged. They went around to the trunk and removed the Kommandant's suitcase and valise.

Schultz opened the back door and held out his arm. "Slowly, Kommandant."

Meanwhile, Hilda stepped out of the other side. Everyone in the camp went silent in shock.

"Is that Klink?" Carter asked.

Hogan turned his head; his mouth hung open for a second as his eyes witnessed the Kommandant leaving the car.

The Kommandant straightened, trying not to show his weakness. The shock of seeing the chaos done to the camp in his absence soon erased any immediate discomfort.

"What have they done to my camp?"

"Just as I told you Kommandant."

"It's worse, Schultz." Klink wrung his hands. "The fence, the barracks. They're all…what have you done to my camp?"

He began walking toward the substitute Kommandant and his aides.

"Kommandant Klink. I am Oberst Werner. You weren't expected back for another month. At least."

"I…I…recovered quicker than expected. What have you done to my camp?" He repeated.

Werner straightened and then calmly stated, "Adhering to regulations. This camp was in violation of multiple rules, and we took action to fix everything."

"You…you."

"Kommandant." Hogan quickly stepped in, offering Klink a salute. "Welcome back sir. Always knew you were our iron colonel. Quick convalescence. I tried to fight this as best as I could, sir. For the good of my men, your staff and the legacy and reputation of Stalag 13. There was only so much I could do. And then General Burkhalter came by and didn't object."

"Werner. Get out. And take your aides with you. My command has been reinstated," Klink ordered.

"Well, that can't be, sir. I don't have the necessary paperwork."

At that, Schultz wordlessly handed Klink a file.

"Paperwork?" Klink opened the file and took out the papers within. "Here's your paperwork, my orders. Anything you want." He tossed them in the air, as the surprised camp population looked on.

"There's the matter of the supplies, sir," Hogan whispered. He then pointed to the trucks. "Too much fuel."

"Supplies?" Hilda and Schultz asked.

Sergeant Krauss stepped forward. "Kommandant. I was in charge of the guards during Sergeant Schultz's absence. It appears we received triple the usual amount of cooking oil and fuel."

"Oh, that's not good." Schultz shook his head. He looked at Hogan, who offered a grin and a shrug.

"Is that so?" Klink asked. "That is very irregular. This would not have happened on my watch. Is this a clerical error, or a supply depot error?"

"Well, not exactly," Werner said, sweat now forming on his lip. "I ordered the usual amount, but the depot's requisition form shows triple the amount. As does the paperwork already sent to Berlin. With my signature. He did it!" He pointed at Hogan.

"Well, that's not possible; I'm a pilot, not a bookkeeper. Seriously, sir."

Klink's head shook. "Hogan forge orders? Impossible. Now you and your minions get out of my camp. And I don't care how you do it, but take the extra oil back to the supply depot before I have you arrested for suspected black market intentions. And good luck straightening this out with Berlin. You have fifteen minutes. Fräulein Hilda, Schultz, I should like to go to my quarters now. Langenscheidt, you and Krauss make sure they leave the camp."

You could hear a pin drop as Klink, Schultz and Hilda, traipsed over the new wood walkways—which later on, Klink would admit were a nice feature—on their way to the Kommandant's quarters.

Werner, knowing defeat when he saw it, turned to his crestfallen aides. "You two, see that the supplies that belong here are unloaded." He walked up to the drivers. "We are going back to the depot. No arguments." He looked back at the compound. Shaking his head, he muttered, "I did what I had to do to bring this POW camp up to code."

Schultz opened the door and led Hogan into Klink's living room.

Klink was propped up on the couch, covered with blankets, his head resting on several pillows. Hogan noted he looked quite pale, but he chalked that up to the stress of the drive.

"Good to see you home, sir."

"Thank you, Colonel Hogan. I have orders. Starting tomorrow, draw up the necessary work parties and work with the guards to put this camp back together the way it was."

"Including dropping the huts back to ground level?" Hogan asked hopefully. "It's much warmer that way."

"They already had several prisoners getting out through the floor," Schultz stated.

"Yes, yes….exactly as before. Except for the wooden walks. And everyone can go back to their original barracks as soon as it's feasible. And Schultz, no locking the doors at night. That's a fire hazard."

"Thank you, sir," Hogan said.

"I want no trouble from you, Hogan, or the prisoners during my recovery. I will be working as best as I can from here for a while. Hilda is reinstated. She will be assisting and staying in the VIP quarters."

Hilda smiled at Hogan, who gave her a wink. "A nurse will be coming, Colonel Hogan. And a doctor from town."

"Very good sir. What do you think will happen to Werner?"

"Depends on Berlin's leniency. Although it appears he is returning the extra fuel, they don't take well to misappropriating supplies of cooking oil. I wouldn't be surprised if he is transferred to camp inspections on the Russian front. Or shot." Klink shuddered.

"I'll go tell my men to get started on fixing up this place. Rest up, sir."

"Thank you, Hogan."

Schultz accompanied Hogan back to his barracks.

"Well, well, well" Hogan said. "I guess congratulations or a medal is in order for you, Langenscheidt and Hilda," he stated, his eyes twinkling. "Didn't know you had it in you."

Schultz stopped outside the door to barracks two. "Colonel Hogan. It's quite a coincidence that Oberst Werner's supply orders were incorrect."

"Imagine that."

"I'm not sure it would have had the intended effect. He was a stubborn man."

Hogan shrugged.

Schultz continued. "When all else fails…like your multiple recent tries at monkey business, we had to take matters into our own hands. Colonel Hogan, eventually in this war, you have to forget knowing nothing, and then do something."

The end.