Act One

Scene One

– Three –

There was no moon this cold November night. None.

Dieter Müller shivered in the darkness as he followed Hogan and his black-clad men to the meeting. The gun in his hand felt strange. He had not wanted to carry it, but Hogan had insisted. Be prepared, Hogan had said, sounding like a boy scout.

Doubts began to crowd Müller's mind. Doubts that vanished whenever he thought about his child — that cold, angelic little face on the table. And then Therese's face. So white, so empty, as she stared at her son. Even now, pain slashed through him as he thought of his young son. That was why he was here. To do something, anything.

A clearing. A small fire in it. A handful of people waited around it.

Colonel Robert Hogan, code name Papa Bear, wasn't too happy to see the fire. "This isn't a picnic," he said angrily.

"It is cold," said one of the men.

"Put it out anyway!" Hogan ordered in disgust. This was a new group. An inexperienced group. Too new, too inexperienced.

"Are we all here?" Hogan asked as the fire was doused.

"Yes," murmured a man.

And all hell broke loose.

Müller watched in shocked horror as a dozen armed, uniformed SS soldiers showed up. The weapons were pointed at them, at him. He heard Hogan's curse.

Müller wasn't too sure what happened next. All he knew was that, suddenly, from the side, something opened fire on the SS soldiers.

"Run!" commanded a voice.

People scattered, guns firing.

A soldier appeared in front of Müller. Müller knew he had to fire. He tried to remember that this was one of those faceless monsters he had vowed to destroy. But this man had a face — grim, white.

And Müller knew he couldn't fire. He had spent too much of his life trying to save life; he could not take it.

A shot from his side; the soldier crumpled.

"Run!" commanded a masked man in black.

Müller ran; the man followed.

A hissing gasp behind Müller.

Müller half turned to the man following him, but found himself pushed ahead. He heard shots behind him as the man fired.

On through the dark woods and Müller found himself back at the car. The man was beside him. Then Hogan and his men broke through the trees.

"Get in the car!" Hogan ordered.

The masked man was already behind the wheel. The others had barely gotten inside when the car started off into the darkness.

After a few kilometers, the car stopped.

"You really should chose your allies more carefully, Papa Bear," the man in the mask chided.

Hogan looked at him closely for the first time. "Stage?" His voice was incredulous.

"I see you remember me. I am flattered," was the dry reply. The door opened and the Stage got out of the car.

Müller noticed the blood on his right sleeve. "You are hurt!"

A glance at the red stain. "A scratch. Nothing more."

"I am a doctor," Müller began.

"Perhaps it would be better if you remained so," the voice said gently. "I fear you are not a very good soldier."

"Nein," Müller said, accepting the reprimand. "I thought I could be, but I cannot."

The masked head nodded. "As for you, Papa Bear, I would suggest you heed warnings given you in the future. I may not be around the next time."

Hogan chafed under his reprimand. "I can take care of myself."

A dry, "So I see. Until the next time, Papa Bear."

"Stage," Hogan said, more contritely, "thanks."

A faint smile. "You are welcome. Goodbye, Papa Bear."

The man disappeared into the woods.

"Who . . . Who," Müller's voice was shaking, "is he?"

There was sudden awe in Hogan's voice. "The Stage. One of the most important resistance leaders in Germany. I didn't know he was in the area."

"He is not from around here?" Müller asked.

Hogan shook his head. "He gets spotted all over Germany. Always in that mask. Supposedly only a handful of people know who he really is."

"I have heard stories," Müller said slowly.

"You and everyone else," Hogan said. "Well, this has been quite an experience, Doctor. Care to try it again?"

Müller shook his head. "I think I will do what I know best, and that is being a doctor. I will help who I can, but I think I will leave the rest of it to those who know better."

Hogan nodded. Funny, that's what Klink said.

Hogan slid behind the wheel and started the car. Slowly, it disappeared into the night.

It was a somber Dieter Müller who climbed the steps leading to Kommandant Klink's office. He walked into the office and knocked on the inner door.

Colonel Wilhelm Klink opened the door.

After an awkward silence, Müller asked, "May I come in?"

Klink stepped back and gestured a welcome. He closed the door and followed Müller inside.

Müller looked uneasy.

Klink broke the silence. "Are you finished with the prisoners' examinations?"

"Ja. Here is the report. I found no serious health problems. Considering the conditions, the prisoners are in excellent shape."

"Good. You are leaving now?"

Müller nodded.

"Then there is nothing more to do. Or say."

Müller faced him. "Yes, there is . . . I wish to apologize."

Klink turned away. "For what?"

"For . . . " Müller cleared his throat. "I think I understand a little of what motivates you, Wilhelm, and others like you. You survive. And," a deep breath, "last night, I realized how important that is."

Klink turned back to him. "In what way?"

Hogan, listening in, stiffened. What would Müller say about last night?

"I made contact with a resistance group, Wilhelm," Müller was saying. "More than one. Only the SS knew about the meeting as well. But for the courage of one man, I might have been caught or killed. I realized then what I had risked. And how foolish I was. I am not a soldier, Wilhelm. I am only a doctor in a uniform that has no meaning for me. As such, I am a liability to others. I had a gun in my hand and realized I could not shoot."

"A doctor should save lives, Dieter," Klink said. "Not take them. And you are an excellent doctor."

"Danke, Wilhelm. I haven't changed my mind about the resistance or the way to end this war."

"I didn't think you had." There was an odd humor in Klink's voice.

"But I realize that I must leave it to others better suited than I. A brave man was injured because of me. I won't risk that again."

"I'm sure that is the wisest thing."

Müller laughed. "I was right, Wilhelm. You are a realist and a survivor . . . "

Silence for a while. Then . . .

"I . . . I have decided to take Therese to my grandparents. As you know, they live near the Swiss border. It is much safer there."

"An excellent idea."

"There is a hospital where she can work. Perhaps in time, there will be another child to show us how beautiful life can be."

"I hope, and pray, so, Dieter."

"And I pray Uncle Wilhelm will visit often."

"I will probably out stay my welcome. A drink before you leave?"

The listening men heard Klink pouring something into a glass.

"To Therese," Klink said quietly.

"And to the men who love her."

After a few moments . . .

"Take care of yourself, Wilhelm," Müller whispered softly.

They heard the door open.

"Write, if you can," Müller was saying as they left the office together.

Hogan left his office as well, watching as Klink walked Müller to his car.

Klink was leaning on the open window, still talking to Müller. "Give my love to Therese," he said loudly, grasping Müller's hand.

Müller nodded; behind Klink, he could see Hogan approaching. He started the car. "Auf wiedersehn, Wilhelm."

Klink stepped away from the car. Müller, raising a hand goodbye, drove slowly away.

Hogan waved as the car passed him.

"Pleasant fellow," Hogan said as he reached the Kommandant.

"Yes, he is," Klink said, watching the car pass through the gates. "And an excellent doctor. He says your men are in excellent shape."

Hogan grinned. "I thought you said he was an excellent doctor."

The jest failed to get the usual rise out of Klink. Instead, he smiled faintly as he turned to go back up the stairs.

Hogan glanced at him, surprised by Klink's good humor. Then a shake of his head as he went back to the barracks.