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If You Want To Play Games, Okay...But I'll Win	By : WW2_Lover Category: G through L > Hogan's Heroes Views: 1043 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own ANY of these characters, ANY part of this series, or make ANY money from Hogan's Heroes. I'm just borrowing them for a little while. Any words with a * in front of them are lines directly from the show.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Any words with a * in front of them are lines directly from the show.

Kommandant = Commander
Luftwaffe = The German name for their Air Force
Mein Gott, das ist einfach unglaublich = My God, this is simply unbelievable
Wunderbar = Wonderful
Danke = Thank you
Jerry = British slang, which is a derogatory term for the Germans
Achtung! = Attention!
Dummkopf = Idiot
Herr = Mister
Reichsmarshall = Marshall of the Reich, Hermann Göring’s title
Nein = No
Jawohl =Yes sir
Auf Wiedersehen = Goodbye

Finally leaving Stalag 13…
Like the day before, Hogan had been woken up by Klink at 0400 hours (4:00am). Also like the day before, he was grumpy about it. Even though his unusual ‘punishment’ was over with as of yesterday, there had been packing to do…and they had needed an early start to do it. It wouldn’t be good if anything should get accidentally left behind!
It was now 0700 hours (7:00am), and they were finally almost ready to go. After they’d polished off the last of the food and coffee, Hogan had handed Klink the envelope that the older man brought back the night before.
“Go on, look inside it,” Hogan said.
“Me? But it is addressed to you,” Klink replied with a frown.
“Yeah, but everything inside of it is for you,” Hogan insisted, stressing the word ‘you’. “Come on, sir. I want to see your reaction,” he urged.
Rolling his eyes with a sigh, Klink took the envelope and opened it. In a rare physical gesture, the German officer’s jaw actually dropped open and he put his hand over his mouth in surprise. Said surprise was caused by reading one of the six papers inside of the envelope. The main one in question had the embossed seal of the United States of America at the very top, and it read:

To Whom It Might Concern:
The bearer of this note is a Generalmajor (which is the German equivalent of a one-star general) in the Luftwaffe. In case the picture stapled to this paper is either lost or removed forcibly, here are some basic stats about the aforementioned individual:
Full name: Wilhelm Friederich Klink
Height: 5 feet, 10 inches (178 centimeters)
Weight: 180 lbs (81 kilograms)
Hair color: Bald on top, with the other half being dark gray
Eye color: Light blue
Identifying marks or scars: A long & thin scar across the right side of his ribs
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Nationality: German
Languages spoken: German and English
Other: Wears a monocle in his left eye as a vision aid

Let it be known that General Klink is a recognized friend and ally of the United States Armed Forces, as well as the Allied Forces overall. As such, he is to be offered all of the same respect and courtesies that would be shown any other officer of his rank in the Allied Forces. It should also be noted that his security clearance is rated as ‘top secret’.
I have personally vouched for General Klink, as well as had it confirmed and acknowledged by the Allied High Command. Should any kind of harm befall him due to uncalled-for misplaced hostilities, the consequences will be just as severe as if any other officer of his rank had suffered such an insult.
If there are any concerns about the authenticity of this letter, please contact me directly at the phone number and/or address below. If for some reason I am not available at that time, you may leave a message with any of the other departments below. I will be informed immediately of any such calls, and they will be given priority one attention.
Sincerely,
Brigadier General Robert E. Hogan, United States Army Air Force

Hogan had hand-signed the letter in his flowing but messy handwriting between the lines ‘sincerely’ and the one with his name. And words ‘a recognized friend and ally’ were underlined three times! The remainder of the paper that didn’t have the message – which was about half of it – had a long list of names, addresses and departments that the American general was directly connected to.
To top it all off, almost every officer on the paper was of some sort of general rank. Out of the six different people listed, only two of them were colonels. Each area also had its individual department seal beside it as well, and there was a current picture of Klink stapled to the paper. He wasn’t wearing his uniform cap in the picture, but that had been done on purpose.
“Mein Gott, das ist einfach unglaublich,” said Klink breathlessly, forgetting his ability to speak English momentarily as his hands shook slightly. Not that it mattered that much, since Hogan could understand him just fine.
“I told you I had to wait for that package, sir,” said Hogan, looking as smug as could be when he spoke. “There’s two other copies of that letter in there as well, one in Russian and one in French. Not everyone in those countries speaks English, as I’m sure you already know. And even if they did, they might not necessarily be able to read it.”
The younger man gazed at the German general with glee, looking like his birthday had come early as he continued on. “Oh, and there’s another letter in there too that you should keep safe as well. That one is only for when you wear the American uniform…like you will later on, for example.”
Hogan was very much enjoying the stunned look on Klink’s face, and it was difficult not to laugh as he kept talking. “It says basically the same thing, but it also says that you’re an honorary general in the United States Army Air Force – only honorary, so don’t freak out – and have been okayed to wear that uniform. I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to be accused of stolen valor…just a feeling, mind you. And yes, that letter has a copy in French and in Russian as well. Just thought I’d cover all of my bases,” he finished, still looking utterly smug.
Meanwhile, Klink was busy taking several deep breaths as he tried to center himself in reality again. He’d still heard everything his troublemaker had just said, but he was once again blown away by Hogan’s thoughtfulness and attention to detail. “I...what…how did you get that picture of me?” he asked shakily. “I am not wearing my hat in it, and normally I would be,” he added, somehow managing to focus on the most trivial item first.
“My personal photographer, Sergeant Carter,” Hogan responded. “He wanted you to be wearing your hat in the picture, but Newkirk disagreed with him. He pointed out – and correctly so – that if you were wearing a colonel’s hat in a letter saying you were a general, it might cause some unnecessary confusion.”
“Oh.” That makes sense, Klink thought, having composed himself by now as he asked his next question. “But just why am I going to be wearing an American uniform later on, Hogan?” He motioned to the few boxes around him of both his things and those of his former senior POW officer.
“I do not even know where I am going to put all of this when I leave here. I do not know where I going to live when I leave here either. For that matter, I do not even know where we are going!” He threw his hands up in frustration. “I also do not know where you found out any of the information that you did, although I can probably guess the answer to that question,” he said with a sigh.
Hogan raised his eyebrows as he stated, “Personnel files are a two-way street, Kommandant. It told me all I needed to know. I sent London the message telling them exactly how I wanted the letter worded, and they made it up for me. I just signed the letter when it got here.”
With a shrug, he said, “Everything’s staying right here until we figure that part out, and so is my stuff. Nobody will mess with it, I promise. Privileges of rank and all,” he added as he tossed a cheeky wink at the older man. The only part of that statement that was true was the part about rank, while the rest of it was a complete – but temporary – lie. The few boxes they had were to be sent ahead of them somewhere else. But that revelation would come a lot later on.
“And we’ll both figure out where we’re going to live eventually, but right now we’ve got things to do. So…ready to go, General?” asked Hogan as he stood up and stretched. He looked forward to a warm shower later on, but he’d still kind of miss Stalag 13 in a way. Naturally, he was in full dress uniform for the occasion, and his new badge of rank gleamed on his shoulders.
“I am,” Klink replied as he rose and smoothed out the pants of his uniform again. He was going to be wearing his Luftwaffe general’s uniform for the first time today in public, and the German was equal parts happy and nervous about that. He was happy because he’d get to show it off, but he was nervous since it hadn’t been ‘officially’ bought from a uniform store. Corporal Newkirk had done an amazing job making it, of that there was no doubt. Yet there was still a part of Klink that insisted everyone would see it and know that it was a fake.
“Well, let’s do it,” said Hogan, hoisting the small duffel containing Klink’s American dress uniform, Hogan’s normal uniform and their few civilian clothes onto his shoulder. “The world awaits us,” he added as he opened the door to Klink’s quarters. “After you, sir.”
“Danke, General Hogan,” said Klink as he stepped outside. Despite the formal way of address, there was a smile on his face.
“You’re welcome, General Klink,” Hogan responded with a smile but just as formally as he closed the door for the final time. “It’s my pleasure, believe me,” he said as he walked down the steps, heading for their ride.
“Somehow I actually believe that, Hogan,” Klink replied as he followed suit. He still didn’t know what was going to happen next, but his brat obviously had it handled. He would learn to adapt to Hogan’s strange ways, because fighting against it was always a losing battle. And anyway, the arguments were mostly for show. It would not be prudent to let my brat win easily at anything even if I wanted to, Klink thought as he walked along. We would both become bored quickly. He enjoys the thrill of the game, and so do I.

Back in the air again…
“You know, I’ve been giving something a lot of thought in the past three days, Kommandant,” began Hogan conversationally. He was walking across the compound a little slower than he normally would, due to his butt still throbbing somewhat. Still, he was a lot better off than he’d been yesterday, at any rate!
The German officer’s gaze fell upon the American one, not surprised to hear that was the case for some reason. “What might that be?” he asked.
“Okay, so don’t take this the wrong way or anything,” Hogan said slowly, “but after I’m fully healed up, how would you feel about continuing our…well, you know…our nightly arrangement?” The past two nights had given him a lot to think about, as well as revealed to Hogan new layers he hadn’t known that he had.
It was a good thing that the two generals were walking side by side, because the mere question made Klink screech to a stop. If he hadn’t quickly been able to grab his troublemaker’s arm, he would have lost his balance from the sudden lack of movement. “Why?” inquired Klink suspiciously, wondering what trick was being played on him now. “That was only to make sure you kept your men in line. But the war is over, so the very point is moot now.”
“Because I’ve finally got the answer to the question you’ve asked me a few times,” Hogan said mysteriously.
“What question is that?” the older man asked, not particularly wanting to play games this early in the morning as they began walking again.
“You’ve asked me a few times if I enjoyed pain,” the younger general said. “The answer is yes. Well, now it’s yes. I didn’t used to, but now I do. Well, kind of,” he tried to explain, knowing that he was babbling and getting frustrated that he wasn’t saying this right.
“Look, if you’d asked me a year ago if I liked pain – any kind of pain, no matter what format it was in or the reason for it – the answer would have been an all-around ‘no’. But now I do, even if apparently it has to be caused by you to be enjoyable.” Hogan tried to clarify what he was talking about, but he wasn’t having much luck with it.
Hogan knew he was mangling his response thoroughly, but it was so hard to illustrate his meaning! “It’s not really the pain per se, but the emotional rush that goes with it that I enjoy. The feeling is like a drug to me. I…well, I really can’t simplify it any better than that. And like I said before, you’re the only one I’d ever trust to ever do that to me.”
Letting out a sigh, he added, “Besides, it’s been really effective in helping me clear my head at night to sleep, and it also helps to keep me focused during the daytime. We’ve had some really good conversations during those nights, haven’t we?” Hogan asked, absolutely positive he’d bungled that answer all to hell.
“That…would explain much,” murmured Klink slowly. He understood perfectly what his troublemaker was trying to tell him, even if it was the most roundabout explanation he’d ever heard. “I am honored by the level of trust you place in me, Hogan…and we have had some very good conversations,” he allowed. “But I just am not sure about continuing this. What happens when we finally go our separate ways? What then?” he asked.
“We can figure it out then, sir,” Hogan replied, not wanting to think about that right now. “The last three years as the leader of a sabotage ring have taught me not to plan too far ahead. I’m only asking you to continue this while we’re still spending time together. It’s not a long term commitment,” he pointed out.
“I mean, there might be times I ask you to dial it up on occasion, just for a change of pace. I’m not gonna lie about that, but those times would be more the exception than the rule. So…is that okay with you?” the younger man questioned as he came to a stop by the airplane from last night. He really hoped Klink would say yes, because he hadn’t thought of what he’d do if the answer was no.
The German general was silent for a moment as he thought that question over. Could he do that for Hogan, or would it bother him too much? It was a good question, and one that bore giving some thought to. Yet he admired that the former senior POW officer had openly asked for such a thing, rather than antagonizing him into doing it against his will. “I appreciate your honesty, my brat…so I suppose,” he said, shaking his head in bafflement as he too stopped near the airplane.
“YES!” the American cheered with a fist pump as he gave Klink a happy smile. “Thank you so much!” He was fighting the urge to give his self-appointed disciplinarian a hug, but thankfully he squashed it down.
By this point in time, Hogan was only surprised that he hadn’t been committed to the loony bin yet for finally losing his marbles. And both his voice of reason and his common sense had gone oddly silent on the matter. Was that bad? Probably, but he didn’t care.
“You are most welcome…I think,” Klink said in an amused tone of voice. He pointed up at the plane and asked, “So why is there a plane here? You said last night you would tell me,” he pointed out.
In a noncommittal voice, Hogan replied, “Oh, that? That’s our ride, unless you’ve figured out how to sprout wings and fly without one.” He walked up the ramp slowly and opened the door as he asked, “Sir, are you coming or what?”
“Obviously,” Klink said dryly as he followed Hogan. “So where is the pilot?”
“I think he’s nearby. My guess is that he’s probably inside the cockpit waiting for us,” remarked Hogan as he disappeared into the plane.
“I hope so,” muttered Klink as he too entered the plane and shut the door. He felt a twinge of nostalgia hit him, remembering the last time he’d been a pilot and flown his Heinkel bomber. Unfortunately for him, once he’d damaged his left eye he had been grounded forever. A bomber pilot had to have perfect sight, and visual aids were not something that was acceptable for them to need. “Is the pilot in here?” he called out.
“Yeah, in the cockpit!” Hogan yelled back. “Come on in here, he wants you to see it. It’s beautiful!”
Smiling at the endless miracles the American general seemed to have up his sleeve, the German officer made his way to the front of the plane. He found Hogan sitting in the co-pilot’s seat and nodded to himself. Of course Hogan would be the co-pilot, Klink thought. I am sure he has missed flying terribly since he was shot down.
“Where is the pilot? I thought you said he wanted me to see the cockpit,” the older general said in a confused voice.
“He did, and he still does,” his troublemaker said cryptically, motioning to the controls. “Isn’t she beautiful?” he asked, referring to the plane itself.
“Yes, she is,” Klink admitted as another wave of nostalgia hit him. “But I do not see him anywhere! Where did he go?” he questioned as a frown crossed his face. He wanted to leave Stalag 13 behind, yet Hogan was busy playing games as usual.
“Are you sure you don’t see him anywhere, sir? Try looking out that window to your left. Maybe he’s outside having a cigarette,” Hogan suggested with a grin.
With a sigh, the German replied, “All I see is you, Hogan. But I will look out the window anyway.” He looked out the window to his left, but still saw no one. “Wait, do not tell me. Let me guess…you are flying the plane?” he asked wryly.
“I know we are both capable pilots – well, I was until my injury happened, while I suppose that you still are – but if you are indeed to be the pilot, then you are aware that is the wrong seat, correct? I know it has been a few years for you, but I should think that you would remember that much, Hogan,” he admonished lightly.
Hogan just shook his head in reply. The window was highly reflective…but either Klink hadn’t seen his reflection in it, or he didn’t understand what seeing it meant. Either way, he needed to explain what he meant. “Close, but no cigar. It’s not me, and I’m in the right seat for the co-pilot.” He flashed the former Kommandant his familiar, mischievous grin. “You’re the pilot, sir. So, are you gonna get this thing in the air or what?” he asked.
“I…what?” Klink looked at his brat like he’d lost his mind. “I cannot fly a plane! Are you mad, Hogan?” Klink demanded as he sank into the seat. “A pilot needs perfect vison to fly, and this,” he said as he tapped his monocle, “does not fit the bill. Now stop horsing around and switch seats with me.” Fly a plane again indeed! To tease me in such a way is just cruel.
The American officer let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not kidding around! A bomber pilot needs perfect vison to fly, because they fly in groups and have to make sure they can hit a particular target. We’re flying by ourselves, and we’re not bombing anything. Besides, some of the people who fly civilian planes wear glasses.”
Hogan did his best to make Klink understand what he was saying. “And we’re not going that far, just to Luxembourg,” he said convincingly. “Plus, you’ve said before that you miss flying your Heinkel,” he pointed out.
“Well, yes,” Klink agreed. He wanted to accept this chance quite badly, but he also wanted to not get them killed in a fiery crash equally as badly. One near-deadly crash in his lifetime was more than enough for him. He wasn’t counting the incident with the Blue Baron. All things considered, that had been almost as safe a crash landing as you could get.
“But this is hardly a Heinkel, Hogan. As you said previously, we are not bombing anything. I do not even know the controls for this model of plane, and I would rather not get us killed,” Klink pointed out, annoyed that his troublemaker was digging in his heels as usual.
“But I know the controls, and I can tell you how to work them,” Hogan argued stubbornly, not elaborating on how he knew them when this model of plane had just come out last year. “I’m literally right here if you need me, no matter what the reason is. Come onnnnn, doesn’t the Iron Eagle want to take to the skies again and spread his wings?” he wheedled sweetly.
“I’m not going to be able to give you this chance ever again, and I just thought you might want your real last flight to be a pleasant memory. You know, instead of remembering it as the day you were grounded forever!” Hogan snapped as he folded his arms and huffed in annoyance. “I wouldn’t be asking you to do this if I even thought you’d get us killed, sir. I might be completely nuts, but I’m not suicidal.” Man, there are some people you just can’t do a favor for, even when you gift-wrap it with a fucking bow, he thought irritably.
After mulling those words over for a few minutes, the tall German rolled his eyes and let out a weary sigh. He already knew that he had as good as lost this argument. Hogan is the most stubborn, thick-headed man on the planet.
“If I do this – and that is a big ‘if’ at the moment – do you promise to take over the controls quickly if I need you to do so? Without arguing with me about it?” Klink inquired. “Because if I have to ask you for assistance, we will not have time for any of your grandstanding, Hogan.”
“Yes. You have my word as an officer and a gentleman that I won’t argue with you about it, should you need me,” the younger general responded as he looked at the coordinates he’d written down. “So, is that a yes then?” he asked in a hopeful tone of voice.
“Indeed it is,” confirmed Klink as a grin lit up his features. “And…and thank you for your kind gesture, Hogan. It means a lot to me,” he added as he sat properly in the pilot’s seat and strapped himself in. He was thrilled, because he had the chance to fly again! Not merely be the navigator as he had been before with his troublemaker, but actually fly!
The thought alone was extremely touching, and he wondered what had made Hogan offer him this opportunity. “Although I am not sure why you did not take the chance to fly again for yourself instead, but that is a story for another time. For now, I need you to strap yourself in, Hogan. And then I need you to explain the controls to me.”
“I’ll have my turn another time. This is your moment to shine,” was all the former senior POW officer said in response. As he made sure everything holding him in place was secure, he could only grin like a fool. Co-pilot or not, he loved having control of an airplane. Hell, he loved merely being in an airplane. “Ready when you are, sir…and this is what you need to do.”
After explaining the controls to Klink – which the German general found out really didn’t differ that much from the Heinkel ones – Hogan sat back and glanced at his coordinates. Then he made sure he had them correct before reeling off the basic ones to Klink. He was keeping a careful eye on his Kommandant, making sure that he wasn’t going to freak out or do something else that would make life interesting.
The American remembered that the Blue Baron had gotten his leg broken when he flew with Klink, but to be fair the Blue Baron was also a stick-in-the-mud type of person. No sense of adventure, that’s what his problem is, Hogan thought with a smirk. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be a need for concern so far today.
As Klink turned on the plane, the sound of the motor kicking over gave both flyers a giddy thrill. The feeling of freedom that came from flying called to both of them like a siren song, and so it also gave both officers a familiar adrenaline rush. Old training habits kicked in as both of them looked over their control panels for any problems, with Klink also checking the fuel gage as well.
“I am going to assume this is what you meant when you said, ‘the pilot wants you to see the cockpit’, correct?” Klink asked, wondering if he’d pegged Hogan correctly. “And what is in Luxembourg anyhow?” he inquired as he began to move the plane forward.
“You got it in one, and that’s where our next stop is,” Hogan replied evenly as he alternated watching his control panel and out the windshield. Normally he would have been jealous that his first time flying in an airplane as a free man didn’t end with him flying it, but this was Klink’s moment right now.
Hogan was a career officer, and he felt sure there would be plenty of opportunities for him to soar among the clouds in the future. And anyway, how could he possibly begrudge a fellow flyer his last flight?
“I was able to deduce that much for myself, troublemaker,” Klink said offhandedly, his tone a focused one as he taxied the plane. “But what I would like to know is what we are going there to do.” The foreign controls felt strange, yet familiar to him as his old skills began to kick in and help out. It’d been several years since he’d been at the helm, but honed instincts never withered away.
Shaking his head, his brat replied, “You’ll find out when we get there…which should be in about two and a half hours from now, as long as we get a good tailwind.” The nose of the plane was pointed in the direction they needed to go at this point, and Hogan could feel the huge grin on his face. They were picking up speed quickly as they hurtled down the runway, preparing for the inevitable takeoff.
“You are an insane, impossible brat,” the tall German remarked in a teasing tone. He handled the controls masterfully, showing Hogan the true reason that his classmates had called him ‘the Iron Eagle’.
“Yeah, but you gotta love me anyway,” the American said playfully. He was watching to make sure he wasn’t going to have to take over the controls at some point, but as of right now it appeared highly unlikely.
The younger man knew just by watching Klink that he must’ve been a formidable opponent when he flew with his squadron, and he was considerably glad that they’d never been pitted against each other in battle like that. Mostly because I really don’t know if I could win an aerial dogfight against Klink, Hogan admitted to himself.
Outside the windshield, everything moved faster and faster until it became a blur. With a expression of pure happiness on his face, Klink skillfully pulled the joystick back at just the right moment. That small motion caused the nose of the plane to point upward…and then they took off, the ground quickly dropping away below them.
A whoop of utter joy was heard as his co-pilot yelled out, “Whoo-hoo!” While Hogan himself could handle a plane the same way he handled a woman – which was like a pro – he’d rarely seen anyone else who could match his abilities.
It occurred to him that it was a shame Klink would never fly again after today, because this right here was where his talents seemed to lie. Still, he was happy to know he’d made this happen for the former Kommandant.
“That was awesome! What a rush!” Hogan said excitedly. “I’m telling you, I’ve missed doing this in a big way,” he admitted. “But that was a really smooth takeoff. You sure you haven’t been fibbing to me about being grounded all this time?” the former senior POW officer teased.
“I could say the same thing, but you already expressed it so eloquently,” the older man said playfully. “And quite sure, I regret to say.” After glancing at his control panel and fuel gage again to make sure there weren’t any problems, he added, “Now that we are airborne, give me further coordinates.”
And Hogan did. The two generals continued to talk nonstop for the entire ride, sometimes almost talking over each other. They laughed and shared stories of flight maneuvers – among many, many other things – that they’d done as well, and neither one of them paused for breath until after Klink had successfully landed the plane in Luxembourg.

On the road again…
“I’ve gotta say, you’re a really skilled pilot. I’ve only ever met a few others that could match me,” said Hogan as they exited the plane.
With an eye roll, Klink asked, “Conceited much, Hogan?”
“It’s not conceited when everyone who’s ever ridden with me tells me so,” Hogan shot back.
“And once again, your own reflection does not count as everyone, Hogan,” Klink quipped as he followed his brat to a nearby vehicle. It was an olive drab color, with the letters ‘U.S.A.’ on the door above a star inside of a circle.
The vehicle looked pretty sturdy, like it could handle the road well. The only problem was that it was missing the doors! And yet Hogan was getting into the driver’s seat as if that was perfectly normal.
“I do not wish to point out the obvious, Hogan,” Klink said slowly, wondering what he was missing this time. “But I believe this vehicle is broken, as there are no doors on it. Perhaps we can find one that is not,” he suggested.
The American was about to say something to the insult Klink had tossed his way…until the German spoke again and he burst into laughter instead. “It’s not broken, sir,” he chuckled. “It’s a Jeep. They’re standard military issue for the US Armed Forces. Broken,” he repeated with a shake of his head. “You’re hilarious. Haven’t you ever seen a Jeep before?”
“Yes I have, Hogan,” Klink shot back in an annoyed voice. “And they do not look like that!” His tone was haughty as he gave the younger general a glare. “Generally, a vehicle has doors on it!”
After he stopped laughing, Hogan rolled his eyes. “It’s an American Jeep, Kommandant. They don’t have doors, although I’m not sure why. But what I don’t know is why any of them would be in this area at all, unless our boys imported them for the Allies to use here. Which would make sense, now that I think about it,” he said thoughtfully. “Either way, it’s what was left for us to use,” Hogan added as he patted the seat beside him. “Get in.”
“But you have no keys to start it up, troublemaker. And you need keys to drive a vehicle,” the German officer responded as he got into the vehicle. “So, does that mean that we are – one moment, I know this term in English – cargrabbing?” he inquired. The body of the Jeep reminded Klink of a large square with part of the sides cut off of it.. “I believe that cargrabbing is still a crime, no matter where you go,” he said, feeling the need to state the obvious.
“Carjacking. The word is ‘carjacking’, sir,” replied Hogan with a chuckle. “And no, we’re not carjacking anything. I’ve got the keys in my pocket,” he replied as he pulled them out for Klink to see. “They were in the envelope I got last night. I just pulled them out before I handed it to you to look at,” the American officer added as he checked his mirrors.
“Hmmph,” Klink grumbled as something crossed his mind. “How do we keep from falling out of the Jeep – that has no doors, which is a ridiculous design – since you are so smart today?” he demanded.
“Just hold onto that bar above your head,” Hogan replied, starting up the vehicle. “And hold on good, because I drive really fast.”

Visiting Camp Ashcan…
An hour later. they pulled up to a luxury hotel named the ‘Palace Hotel’. Or rather, it had been a luxury hotel. Now it had a fifteen-foot high barbed wire fence around it and guard towers with machine guns. The fence looked like it was electrified as well, but neither one of the officers was willing to personally verify that. After Hogan had parked the Jeep, the two generals got out of the car and headed toward the main gate.
“Hogan, you are never driving me anywhere again,” Klink declared firmly. “You are a terrible, reckless driver! And I thought Sergeant Schultz was bad,” he added as an afterthought as he looked out ahead of him. “Why are we here, by the way? We just left a prison camp, and I would like to point out that ours was much nicer.”
“What’re you talking about? I’m a perfectly good driver, I’ll have you know!” Hogan said indignantly as he looked up at the guard towers instead. “Man, and I thought Stalag 13 was bad,” he complained. “I guess it really was a resort after all, at least compared to this.”
“You almost hit three different cars on the way here!” Klink exclaimed as they neared the gate. He was wondering just how badly people drove in the United States, if indeed his troublemaker was an example of what constituted a ‘good driver’. “And you know that normally I would disagree with you about that, but in this case I cannot do so,” he muttered.
“Please, I had plenty of room,” Hogan scoffed. “And by the way…if this is what passes for a luxury hotel around here, I don’t think I want to see the cheap ones.” His eyes searched the perimeter, taking in every detail. “Holy cow, they must be really paranoid.”
“Hogan, only allowing six inches between you and another car – when you are shifting lanes, I might add – does not count as ‘plenty of room’, no matter what language you are speaking in,” Klink said in exasperation. “From now on, I will do the driving,” he stated as he eyed the barbed wire. “And once again, why are we here?”
“That move is called ‘the Oreo cookie’ back home, and we can talk about it later,” said Hogan distractedly, seeing someone dressed in blue running towards them quickly. “And you’ll see in a few minutes. Just keep quiet and follow my lead, Kommandant. These guys look like they’re a trigger-happy bunch,” he said under his breath.
“Stop righ’ there!” a British voice yelled, causing them both to freeze in place so they wouldn’t get shot.
The voice belonged to a young sergeant, who sized both of them up quickly before snapping to attention and saluting sharply. “Oh, my apologies…sirs,” the enlisted man said hastily, looking from Hogan to Klink and back again as if unsure which of them to address. “Can I ‘elp you, General…”
“Hogan. I’m General Robert Hogan, of the United States Army Air Force,” his troublemaker said confidently, returning the salute and taking a step forward to show that he was the one in charge. Klink also returned the salute – once he’d reluctantly received one, anyway – but he wisely kept his mouth shut for once. He had seen the dirty look that he’d gotten as soon the stranger had gotten a good look at his uniform, and he had no desire to start a fight with someone who was armed.
“And this is my good friend, General Wilhelm Klink of the Luftwaffe.” Hogan leaned in and added in a stage whisper, “We made a prior reservation at this hotel, you know.” Straightening up again, he added, “We’ve got a meeting in about,” he checked his watch, “twenty minutes, so we need to get inside and to the meeting room. Anyway, what’s your name?” he asked.
“Monihan, sir. Sergeant Alexander Monihan, of the Royal Air Force,” he replied with a sharp nod to the younger general. The corners of Monihan’s mouth twitched slightly after Hogan’s causal comment as if he wanted to smile, but he resisted the urge to do so. “Of course, General Hogan, but –” He cut himself off, clearly torn between wanting to say something and not wanting to potentially anger a superior officer.
But Hogan only said, “At ease, Monihan. What’s on your mind?” He’d been around long enough to know that that look, but he hoped the young man wasn’t going to cause a problem for them. He’d gone to a lot of effort to make everything that had occurred so far happen, and he wasn’t going to be shown up by some young upstart!
But the sergeant was obviously still tense, even as he took the opportunity to speak freely. “Well, I…” He openly gave Klink another dirty look, clearly not happy about his presence here at all. Monihan obviously had no love for Germans, and his next words proved it without a shadow of a doubt. “General, wit’ all due respect…even if tha’ is your good friend – which is bloody crackers all on its own, mind you – we can’t jus’ let some Jerry in ‘ere –”
“ACHTUNG!” Hogan barked loudly in German, interrupting the sergeant and startling him into silence. The American narrowed his eyes and growled out his next words, showing that he was in no mood for games. “Now you listen to me, Monihan, and you listen good. I’ve known General Klink for years, and he’s one of the most decent people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I’m not gonna order you to apologize to him, because neither him nor I need to hear that fake bullshit from you.”
Hogan was positively radiating ‘make my day’ vibes as he spoke, thoroughly pissed off at the blatant show of disrespect. Espescially to someone he honestly considered a friend! “But I’m going to ask you a question, and all I want from you is a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer. And after I am done talking to you, you are going to escort both General Klink and I into the meeting room we’ve already arranged to use. I don’t want any further attitude or disrespect from you…or so help me God, I’ll bust your ass down to private! Do I make myself clear, Sergeant?” he finished, glowering and stressing the British man’s rank to remind him just where he was on the totem pole.
Klink had to fight a smile when he heard the German command leave his brat’s lips, wondering if Hogan had been speaking his language subconsciously again or on purpose for the shock value. I will ask him about later on, he decided. Either way, after seeing that display he was very glad that he wasn’t Monihan right now!
“Y-yes, General Hogan!” Monihan stammered, snapping to attention and sharply saluting again.
“Much better,” said Hogan irritably, giving a quick nod and barely returning the salute. “Now, has General Burkhalter arrived yet?”
“Yes sir, General!” the sergeant confirmed. He was still standing at attention, but he didn’t appear willing to risk saying anything else.
Raising his eyebrows, Hogan snapped, “Well? Do you have memory loss now, as well as an attitude problem, Monihan?”
“No, of course not, General Hogan! Please, follow me General!” Monihan said quickly, saluting once more and waiting for Hogan to return it. Then he quickly spun on his heel and led them through the gates, saying absolutely nothing to either Klink or the still angry Hogan.
As Klink followed the two men, he had to admit he was impressed. He’d just seen firsthand the aura of command that Hogan could radiate when he wanted to…and he’d also seen a sample of why Hogan had already been a full colonel when they’d met, despite his youth.
Speaking of that, he needed to ask his troublemaker what he’d been talking when he’d said that “he’d known General Klink for years” about later on. He knew Hogan probably meant all the time since he’d lived at Stalag 13, but the former senior POW officer had implied that Klink had been a general that entire time.
Ah, the joys of implication and mind games, Klink thought. He also couldn’t help but think of Corporal Langenscheidt after the way Monihan had acted. He remembered giving the corporal an order on one occasion that had ended with Langenscheidt stammering out, “*Yes, Herr Kommandant! *Certainly, Herr Kommandant! *Right away, Herr Kommandant!” as he’d left Klink’s office in a hurry.
After they had passed through a few doors, they were led to a solid grey-colored room. It had a table and four chairs in it, and General Burkhalter was already sitting in one of them waiting.
“As you requested, General Hogan,” the British sergeant said hesitantly as he came to attention for the third time since they’d met. “Can I do anythin’ else for you General?”
“Yes, Sergeant, you can,” the American general replied with false sweetness. Both Klink and Burkhalter shot him quizzical looks as he spoke, because they knew it wasn’t a tone the former senior POW officer usually used. In Klink’s case, he was pretty sure the next words his troublemaker said weren’t going to be as nice as his tone conveyed. Seconds later, he was proven to have guessed correctly about that.
“You can hurry up and go get our guest. And make sure you tell him to keep silent, because this is a surprise. Now, get the hell out of my sight!” Hogan added as his sweet tone abruptly switched to a curt one. After saluting everyone else and having it returned, Monihan turned and hurriedly left the room.
Both Hogan and Klink offered their own salutes to Burkhalter, who lazily returned them from where he sat. As the tall German sat down, he gave his brat a searching look. He was trying to figure out where any of what he’d just seen had come from, because it was unusual behavior from him. But before he could ask, Hogan suddenly burst out laughing.
“Oh my God! That was great, and it was fun too,” he chuckled as he turned to the fat Austrian and recapped everything that’d happened since they’d arrived here. “You should’ve seen his face, General Burkhalter. He looked like he was about to faint!”
“You did all that over Klink?” the fat general asked in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind, Hogan?”
“Probably, General. I’ve been asked that a few times before in my life,” said Hogan cheerfully as he shared a look with the former Kommandant. “But it had to be done, so I did it.”
“I disagree, Hogan.” Klink had found his voice at last, and he had something he needed to say. “I appreciate you standing up for me, Hogan. I really do. But you cannot just go around threatening to bust people down to private because they were mistrustful of me,” he pointed out in a reasonable tone. “Especially fellow members of the Allies!”
“Watch me,” Hogan said with a scowl, his tone becoming dangerous as the memory raised his hackles. “I’m not gonna let some fresh-faced punk act like that’s okay to do! And besides that, he was using a derogatory slur against you. If anyone disrespects you, they disrespect me. And they don’t want to disrespect me, not if they want to avoid a serious ass-chewing.”
He shrugged and added, “Channeling how I’ve heard you talk to your men during the war, as well as how Schultz used to get our attention sometimes helped. Overall, I’d say it was pretty effective too,” he remarked in an amused voice. It was then that Hogan recalled the whole discussion Newkirk, Carter and the fat sergeant had had one time over ‘the meaning of achtung’, which it caused his lips to curl up into a small smile.
Since he really couldn’t think of anything to say to that, Klink opted instead to share an exasperated look with his commanding officer. Honestly, he wasn’t going to argue about it. He’d only said something in the first place to actively make sure Hogan was aware of what he’d done, instead of letting him act on an impulse that could get him into trouble further down the road.
“If I did not know better, I would say that Hogan has…a rather large protective streak regarding you for some reason, Klink,” Burkhalter said calmly as he folded his hands over his large stomach. While the recent events had been amusing, he was a busy man. “Now, we need to get down to business. Klink, I am here primarily for your benefit. That means you should listen closely to what I have to say.”
He sighed before continuing to explain, wishing he didn’t have to be here right now with the monocle-wearing dummkopf. “I am here to inform you that our guest you will meet is the real thing, not an imposter.” He nodded towards Hogan, who shrugged casually. “Hogan has quite the talent for finding them, and I was asked was to confirm that much for you. I know him, so it was not too difficult to do.”
“Who? Who are we talking about, Herr General?” asked Klink in annoyance, not happy with those vague comments.
“You will see, Klink…but not at first,” chuckled the Austrian general good-naturedly. He was quite enjoying playing along with Hogan’s scheme – instead of being the victim of it for once – and his subordinate’s frustration only made it better.
“I…could you clarify that for me, sir?” Klink asked, a little confused about that comment and the resulting chuckle from the normally cantankerous officer.
“Yes, but I will not,” Burkhalter remarked. “You should also know that while my status as Nimrod is now declassified, it would not be a good idea to mention it. He does not know, and I would prefer to keep it that way,” he added cryptically.
The fat general tossed a blindfold to Hogan, who caught it out of the air easily. Then the American officer promptly told Klink, “I gotta put this on first, sir. It’s all part of the surprise, but I’ll take it off in a few minutes. Until then, just please sit there quietly and trust me.”
“I have done nothing but trust you lately, Hogan,” Kink pointed out as he cooperated with his brat. His vision soon went dark as the blindfold went on, and he wondered how long this would take as sat there. He didn’t have to wait for that long though…after a few minutes, he heard the door open. He could hear what sounded like several chains rattling as well.
Then he heard the scrape of a chair and the grunt of someone sitting down. He heard two quick raps on the table and a different British voice – thankfully not Monihan, because he was sure Hogan would have come unglued if it had been him again – say, “Like tha’ on the door when you’re done, General,” followed by his troublemaker saying, “Thanks, I got it.” Then he heard the door open and close again, followed complete silence. After what seemed like forever, he heard Hogan ask him, “You ready, sir?” and tap his shoulder to get Klink’s attention.
“Yes, yes. Just take this thing off of me,” Klink said with a weary sigh. After the American did it, Klink opened his eyes. Immediately he wished he hadn’t, not after he saw who had joined them. Now what Burkhalter had said earlier made perfect sense, so he was also glad that he was sitting down!

Meeting the man of the hour…
Sitting at the table in front of him, appearing to be a cross between frustrated and amused – and in full dress uniform to boot – was none other than Reichsmarshall Hermann Göring himself! Or at least it was someone who looked like him. Klink glanced at the German officer in front of him quickly, taking in the wavy dark hair and piercing blue eyes. There were more medals on the stranger’s uniform than Klink had ever seen one person wear, and some of them were even from World War One!
The new arrival was a big man, about the same size as his Sergeant of the Guard but a few inches shorter. He had both legs chained to different legs of the table, and a long chain was keeping his left arm attached to it as well. Whoever had put them on had left his right hand free, presumably to salute. Everything together had a rather somber effect, and Klink wondered if this was some kind of sick joke. As the thought crossed his mind, he could only gawk and think, If this is someone impersonating Göring, they are very good at it. They are also very detailed oriented.
Then he remembered what Burkhalter had said earlier about this person being ‘the real thing, not an imposter’, and the former Kommandant went deathly pale. By the time it fully registered in his mind that this was no joke, he’d already leapt to his feet and caused the chair he’d been sitting in to fall over behind him. And he could only blame the propaganda he’d had drilled into him for over a decade for what happened next, because it wasn’t done by choice!
Klink snapped to attention, his boots making an audible clicking sound as he flung out a stiff Nazi salute and stammered hoarsely, “H-H-Heil Hitler!” He hated doing either one – and he really, really didn’t want to – but both the greeting and salute had become reflex for everyone over the last twelve years. It was just something they did automatically by now, unless they wanted to end up ‘missing’ and never heard from again.
If possible, the clumsy and startled reaction only caused Göring’s expression to settle on amused. His gaze was aimed at the older man, before quickly switching from him to Burkhalter, to Hogan, back to Klink, back to Hogan again and finally settling on Klink. “How are you today, Herr General?” he asked politely in German, offering the same salute in return but without the greeting. It wasn’t normally done that way, but the tall German supposed someone that powerful could do as he pleased.
And yet Klink said nothing in response to the question, figuring that the head of the Luftwaffe was asking it of either Burkhalter or Hogan. He was so rattled that he’d momentarily forgotten he was a general. And even if he’d somehow remembered that, what was he supposed to say? ‘I am fine, sorry to see that you are locked up?’
Hardly, because that would be both disrespectful and rude. So instead the German officer took turns glancing at his former senior POW officer and his commanding officer, waiting for one of them to answer the question. A confused look crossed his face when neither of them spoke, and the silence made him begin to feel uneasy.
Meanwhile, Burkhalter had seen the confused expression his subordinate had and let out an irritated sigh. He had never had any patience for stupid people, and right now that’s exactly what Klink was being. "Oh, for the love of...he is addressing you!" snapped the Austrian general in exasperation, pointing at the former Kommandant and opting to speak German as well. “Have a little respect for your superiors and answer the Reichsmarshall’s question!” For the love of God, how dumb can one man be? Burkhalter wondered.
He was asking me? Oh, wunderbar. What a way to make a first impression! How could I forget that I am a general now? Klink wondered as he managed to give a reply. “F-fine, Herr Reichsmarshall! I-I am fine!” Very intelligent, Wilhelm. Bravo. How about returning the courtesy, hmmm? Choosing to continue speaking German, he asked, “H-how are you, sir?” When had he developed a stuttering problem? That was new, and definitely unwanted.
“Fine, danke.” Göring seemed to be sizing Klink up, and for a few minutes there was silence. “You are Wilhelm Klink?” he inquired finally. “The one I received the call about?”
And the flustered German general even managed to flub his answer to that at first. “N-nein, Herr Reichsmarshall! I-I mean jawohl, Herr Reichsmarshall!”
The head of the Luftwaffe just rolled his eyes and glanced at the fat general. “Is he always like this, Albert?” Göring asked, wondering what made the quivering man in front of him so special.
“I do believe you are making him nervous somehow, Hermann,” Burkhalter said dryly. “Klink may not always be the quickest to catch onto things, but I can assure you that he has never had a stuttering problem before.”
The fat Austrian glanced over at the unusually quiet Robert Hogan, who appeared to be almost bored with everything happening around him. “Might I suggest that you talk to General Hogan for a little while instead?” he suggested. “Even though he is an American officer, he speaks German fluently.”
“I think that is a good idea,” Göring said with a sigh. “Even so, he is still doing better than that other one I saw earlier…he actually fainted after he saw me and I introduced myself.”
Then he looked at Klink, who was still standing at attention and saluting. “At ease, General Klink. Pick up the chair you knocked over and sit back down…and do try to compose yourself.” He nodded at the younger general and switched to English as he asked, “So, you are the American I have heard so much about from Albert?”
“I’m going to guess that’s the case, Reichsmarshall Göring. That is, unless General Burkhalter has nothing better to do than discuss Americans,” responded Hogan nonchalantly as he stood up.
While he stood at attention out of acquiescence, the flippant salute he gave was a normal one. “I hope they’ve all been good things that you’ve heard. And I’m not giving you that funky salute, no offense.” He wanted to say so many impertinent things, and it was killing him to act respectful toward this man. It particularly galled him to use Göring’s title too…but right now, he was only doing it for Klink’s sake.
“You are an American, so none taken. And the things I have heard have been…a mixed assortment,” Göring admitted slowly, appraising the American general in front of him with a critical eye. Unlike the German one, he wasn’t nervous or stuttering, which was a plus! “You offer me basic military courtesy, even though I am the enemy?” he asked curiously. “I appreciate it, but why?” That wasn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination, and it confused him.
“Don’t get me wrong, Reichsmarshall,” Hogan said coolly. “I hate all that you’ve done in this war, I won’t lie about that. And I’ve definitely got no love for the guy that started all of this in the first place. But I can still admire a fighter ace such as you nevertheless. I’m a bomber pilot myself, and I know it takes real skill to be considered an ace.” While it wasn’t a lie – Hogan actually could respect that type of skill – he was laying it on a little thick, hoping to play on the man’s ego.
“Indeed,” Göring agreed approvingly. “At ease, General Hogan.” He waited until the former senior POW officer had taken his seat before asking, “Do you have any idea how I felt when I got that phone call from you? A phone call…for a prisoner? In a prisoner of war camp, no less?”
With a sneer, Hogan replied, “Ecstatic that somebody still wanted to talk to you?” He leaned back and crossed his legs before adding, “I’m glad you told me this is a prisoner of war camp. I was beginning to think that it was just a terrible hotel.” He found himself unable to hold back the contemptuous comments any longer, though he had at least made an honest effort to try.
Having finally composed himself enough to speak, Klink leaned over and hissed quietly in his brat’s ear, “Behave!” Then in a normal tone of voice, he added, “Hogan, do you know who this is?”
“Someone whose chains don’t match his outfit?” the younger general suggested innocently, knowing the answer to that already.
“He is the head of the Luftwaffe, the supreme commander! So for once, please keep a civil tongue in your head,” pleaded the older man.
Shrugging, Hogan stood up and replied, “Oh. Well, I knew that. I just thought you were gonna tell me some new information. But you’ve obviously recovered enough to talk now, so just I’ll wait for you outside. Have fun!”
But Klink grabbed his jacket and yanked him back down again. “You are not going anywhere, Hogan!” After seeing his troublemaker give him a curious look, he amended his previous demand. “I mean, please stay.”
The head of the Luftwaffe had been watching their exchange with interest, and he turned to Burkhalter with a surprised expression. “Is this normal behavior between them, Albert?”
With an annoyed eye roll, the Austrian general said, “As a matter of fact, yes. They have always bantered like that.”
“Hmmm. That is highly irregular,” Göring mused, sounding mystified about that revelation.
“Hermann, believe me when I say that those two have never been – nor interacted in – what I would call a ‘normal’ way,” Burkhalter remarked.
Nodding, Göring turned his attention back to the still-conversing pair. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I do not have all day, and I have a few questions for General Klink.” He watched with satisfaction as they both fell silent. “Danke. Now, how did you meet General Hogan?” he asked. “I know something about Stalag 13, and that is it.”
But Hogan shot Burkhalter an impish glance before Klink had the chance to say anything. “Might as well cover your ears, General Burkhalter. You already know what comes next.”
“Thank you so much for that warning, Hogan,” the fat general responded, his tone of voice sounding testy.
“You’re welcome,” replied Hogan agreeably as he looked at Klink. “For once, somebody actually wants to hear your boast. Go for it, Kommandant,” he said, giving the tall German a cheeky smile.
With a frown directed at his troublemaker, Klink switched his gaze to the head of the Luftwaffe. “General Hogan was my senior prisoner of war officer for the last three years of the war. He was in *the toughest POW camp in all of Germany, and *there was never a successful escape from Stalag 13!” he finished triumphantly, ignoring the eyeroll that both his brat and his commanding officer gave him.
Yet Göring just gave Klink a bewildered look. “Your…former senior prisoner of war officer?” he inquired suspiciously, sounding like he didn’t believe that. “What sort of prisoner of war goes to all this trouble to get his warden promoted?” he demanded to know. He was now wondering if the guards had somehow slipped him some drugs and caused him to hallucinate this whole conversation.
“When you figure out the answer to that, do let me know Hermann,” Burkhalter murmured, wanting to know the answer to that himself.
Klink shrugged. “Well, I always treated all of my prisoners humanely, Herr Reichsmarshall,” he said before suggesting, “Perhaps one of them was just grateful for that.”
“Do you really expect me to believe that, Herr General?” Göring asked incredulously. “Even if that were the case, the Allies won the war. Why would any of them care about your career after the fact?”
Hogan had been quiet since he’d last spoken, but now he joined the conversation again. “Because you get more flies with honey than you do vinegar, Reichsmarshall,” he pointed out as Göring turned to look at him. “And because one good deed deserves another. General Klink always treated me and my men with respect and in an honorable way, so I helped him get the promotion he wanted. Simple enough…even though I might have annoyed him a few times in the last three years.”
“Might have? Only a few? Those are grave understatements, Hogan,” Klink remarked, not seeing what Hogan was trying to do.
The American shot him a dirty look. “You’re not helping, Kommandant,” he said. Looking back at Göring, he added, “Besides that, Reichsmarshall, General Klink is surprisingly efficient at his job as well.”
“He is?” Burkhalter asked in a false shocked tone. “When did that happen? I must have missed it,” he deadpanned. “And I am certain that Major Hochstetter would agree with me completely if he were here.”
“Oh good, then you two can finally agree on something for a change!” Hogan snapped in frustration. “Geez, General, you’re not helping either!” Here he was trying to make the older man look good to the head of the Luftwaffe, but both Burkhalter and Klink himself kept ruining it!
“Just who is Major Hochstetter?” asked Göring curiously, getting sucked into the abrupt change of topic despite himself. He was wondering why he hadn’t heard of this man until now if he was so important!
“The leader of our friendly neighborhood Gestapo,” Hogan replied crossly, the remainder of his patience starting to wear thin.
“The Gestapo have people who are friendly now?” Göring asked in an astonished voice. “It has gone downhill greatly then since I ran it. I knew Himmler could not handle the takeover,” he added, sounding oddly self-satisfied about that for some reason.
“It was a joke, Reichsmarshall.” Hogan said with a resigned sigh. Man, Göring’s got no sense of humor, he thought. “Hochstetter’s actually a paranoid asshole who can’t figure out how to talk to anyone without screaming.”
Hogan decided after having that brief discussion that he needed to cheer himself up. So he did what he was best at, according to Klink…acted insolent. “Besides that, Hochstetter’s got a very limited vocabulary…and possibly some memory loss as well. He’d always ask who I was, despite the fact that he saw me every time he visited Stalag 13.” the American added, taking a fleeting pleasure in the snorts of laughter from both the former Kommandant and Burkhalter.
“I see. Well, that does sound more realistic,” Göring said thoughtfully, even if he was still a bit perplexed over what he’d just heard. “But how did you know where I was, General Hogan? Even Albert did not know that,” he pointed out as he returned to the previous topic. “And you even convinced the guards to let me talk to you! How?” he asked Hogan, his mind trying to solve the mystery of the strange American officer.
“The answer to both of those questions is that I’m a very well-connected man, Reichsmarshall Göring,” the former senior POW officer said with a half-smile. “I’ve got no desire to hold any grudges against anyone, because that’s not how I operate. And if things go my way, I’m gonna need General Klink to help me try – and the Allies – rebuild Germany,” he added.
There was complete silence in the room for approximately thirty seconds…until the three Germans all spoke at once.
“You are going to do what now, General Hogan?” asked Göring, sounding stunned that an American officer would say such a thing.
“You do?” inquired Klink in surprise. That was news to him!
“Run that by me one more time, Hogan,” Burkhalter ordered. “I do not believe that I heard you correctly.”
Looking pleased at throwing everyone for a loop at once, Hogan repeated his last statement. Then he added, “Yeah, Kommandant. As an American, people are going to have a hard time trusting me. But you? You they’ll trust, since you’re a native here.” Nodding to the fat general, he added, “You heard me right, General. You’re still as sharp as ever,” he said sarcastically.
Finally, Hogan looked over at the man who was both Klink and Burkhalter’s boss. “My countrymen reduced Germany completely to rubble, but it was needed to finally stop Hitler in his tracks. So now we’re gonna help you rebuild the place again. Really, it’s the least we can do,” he added.
With a sigh, Göring asked wearily, “Why? Why fix what you went to so much trouble to destroy?” He had never understood Americans to begin with, and he didn’t understand them any better either so far.
“What, did you think we were just going to leave the place in ruins? So that the people who survived the war can die from exposure and lack of supplies instead?” Hogan shot back. “If we wanted more people to die, we would’ve just let the madman keep on doing what he was doing!” He sounded indignant about the very concept of that idea. Just because the Nazis are barbarians doesn’t mean the Allies are! he thought angrily.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” came the unexpectedly dejected answer. “Especially as those same countrymen decided to execute me in a most disgraceful manner.”
That successfully shut Hogan up momentarily…until he, Klink and Burkhalter all said, “What?” at the same time in a stunned tone of voice.
“I see no one has told you yet, General Hogan,” responded Göring with a nod. “That surprises me since you are so well-connected…but no matter.” After taking a deep breath, he began to explain what he meant. “I knew even before I stood trial that I would be executed for war crimes…after all, I was a powerful man under the Third Reich. And that meant they needed to make an example out of me,” he said. “The trial was only a formality, merely something to help the Allies sleep better at night. I knew it and so did they, though of course no one said such a thing out loud.”
With a shrug, the head of the Luftwaffe elaborated. “I would have made an example of any of their leaders as well, had our roles been reversed. But to execute a soldier who was loyal to their cause – even if it is an enemy one – via the gallows like a common criminal is despicable!” He ran a hand through his dark hair and further explained, “It is scheduled to happen three days from today.”
“You’re kidding!” the American general said in shock, right before he saw the stony expression and sighed. “I guess you’re not kidding.” That’s messed up! Nazi or not, that’s not okay!
“What the hell? What was the tribunal thinking?!” exclaimed Hogan angerly. The officer in front of him had undoubtedly either killed – or had issued the order to have killed – hundreds of his comrades in arms. He should be overjoyed to hear about this. But his moral compass was flaring up instead, which was annoying.
“I’m not saying you don’t deserve death for everything you’ve done, Reichsmarshall. But I can try and see if they’ll change the manner of execution to the firing squad instead, if you want,” Hogan offered. He wasn’t sure how he’d manage that, but he was taking this one step at a time. “Military law exists for a reason, no matter if you’re on the winning side or the losing one. And that’s very dishonorable how they’re handling this issue.”
The tall German felt a swell of pride at the words the American had spoken, because Hogan was his brat. His troublemaker. And he was also a truly selfless and giving individual to even make such an offer. Klink had heard through the grapevine how any decision made by the Allied military tribunals was final, which meant that kind of task would be impossible to accomplish. And yet he harbored no doubts that Robert Hogan could get it done, should he set his mind to it.
To everyone’s surprise, Göring shook his head. “I have the situation well under control. And you are not the only one who knows people, General Hogan. But I thank you for your thoughtfulness anyway…you are unlike any American I have ever met.”
As he spoke, he casually glanced at Hogan and Klink sitting side by side, noticing the relaxed vibe between them. “You are General Klink’s friend,” Göring said slowly, and it wasn’t a question. “You care about him very much,” he added, sounding fascinated by that realization. Again, it wasn’t a question…but it changed the mood in the room instantly.
“So? What’s your point, Reichsmarshall Göring?” Hogan asked heatedly. He was beginning to throw off those protective vibes again, as well as gearing up for a fight if need be. He didn’t give a damn if the German officer was Burkhalter’s boss or not. He could be the president of the world, but Göring wasn’t going to threaten his Kommandant!
And the way the head of the Luftwaffe had made those statements sounded like the beginnings of a threat to him. He was misinterpreting the situation without realizing it, taking what Göring had said like, ‘I know he is your friend, so now I can use him to hurt you if I want to.’ Lately when it came to Wilhelm Klink, Hogan tended to be extremely high-strung and tense like a piano wire. And that went double if he thought there was any danger to the older man at all. He just wished he knew why!
Klink could see the way the younger general had tensed up after those last two statements, as could Burkhalter and Göring. He needed to calm his troublemaker down, and he needed to do it quickly. The guards here looked to be of the trigger happy sort, and he didn’t want anyone shot. “Relax, Hogan,” he commented, trying to defuse the beginnings of a bad situation. “Herr Reichsmarshall was only making a few passing comments.”
“The hell he was!” Hogan snarled. He had gone completely rigid in his seat now, and his upper lip was pulled back to show that he was gnashing his teeth. It was indeed a scary sight to see, and Klink wondered where the hell this newfound protective streak had come from. “That was an indirect way of threatening to hurt you because you’re my friend! Don’t think I don’t know a low-key threat when I hear one!”
He looked at the chained German officer, who was smirking at those words. The smirk only managed to incense Hogan more as he added, “I don’t give a flying fuck who you know or what rank you are, but I’m gonna give you a warning right now. You mess with General Klink in any way, I’ll beat the shit out of you. I will kick your ass so damn hard, you’ll get a free trip to England whether you want one or not. Now if you wanna fight anyway, bring it on…Reichs-marsh-all,” the American spat, literally shaking with rage. He’d drawn out each syllable of the last word, the same way Hochstetter had always done with the word ‘Kommandant’.
“Hogan, watch your bloody mouth!” Klink exclaimed in absolute shock, the European curse slipping out involuntarily as he put his slender hand on the American’s shoulder. “And you will calm yourself down…now. That is an order,” he added firmly, his voice becoming a carbon copy of the icy tone he’d only used twice before. “Nobody is threatening me, do you understand? We will discuss this odd behavior of yours later on, but for now you need to calm down! And again, that is an order.”
He gave Hogan a significant look to go with that statement, and slowly the former senior POW officer relaxed. There was nothing but silence for the next five minutes while Hogan composed himself, as nobody wanted to set him off again. “I am sorry, Herr Reichsmarshall. I just do not know what has gotten into him lately,” the older man finally apologized after that time had passed. As he spoke, he gave his troublemaker’s shoulder a slight squeeze. He needed Hogan to stay silent while he smoothed things over.
Burkhalter had been watching the show and wondering if he was going to have to restrain Hogan at some point, but Klink had handled the situation with ease. He wasn’t sure how, but he didn’t care overly much. Choosing to say nothing instead, he just sighed and massaged his temples. He could honestly say that his life was never boring with Klink and Hogan around!
“I can see the problem quite clearly, General Klink,” said the head of the Luftwaffe with renewed amusement. “Your friend, General Hogan – and it is quite obvious to anyone with eyes that that is what you two are, friends – mistook a few observational statements from as me as a threat to you somehow. I do not know how, but that is not the point I am trying to make anyway.”
He glanced at Hogan and remarked, “Before you get your feathers all ruffled again, you should be aware that I am actually no threat to anyone in this room. I was merely surprised to see that such an extraordinary friendship had bloomed, so I commented on it. That was apparently an error on my part,” he said dryly.
Shrugging, he said, “True friendship such as what you just displayed is very rare, so hold onto it and cherish it.” He glanced at Klink and added, “I suggest keeping this man in your life as long as the circumstances will allow it, Herr General. General Hogan is both fiercely loyal and protective of you, and he would never allow any harm to befall you. If anyone attempted to do so, he would kill the person in question first, I believe.”
“You got that right,” Hogan declared, feeling Klink squeeze his shoulder again and shutting up.
“In any event, I have things that I must discuss with Albert privately. So, I must ask you to leave,” Göring added, pretending like he hadn’t heard Hogan’s comment in order to avoid another clash.
“Of course, Herr Reichsmarshall,” Klink said as he stood up. “Thank you for your time, sir. It was nice to meet you.” He started to offer the required salute, but changed his mind mid-motion and gave a normal one instead.
“Yeah, it was freaking fantastic,” Hogan said sarcastically as he stood up. After Klink elbowed him in the side, he rolled his eyes. “I mean, it was nice to meet you,” he amended, parroting what Klink had just said – and in the same polite tone as well – but not meaning a word of it. His salute was also the sloppiest one he’d ever given, but he didn’t care.
“Indeed,” replied Göring with a wave of his hand, privately deciding that this was the most interesting day he’d had in a while.
As Burkhalter knocked on the door in the arranged code and waited for it to be opened, Hogan had an idea. It had come to him out of nowhere, but those kinds had usually been his best ones! “Hey, General Burkhalter?”
“What is it now, Hogan?” the fat Austrian asked sharply, not in the mood for any more of his childish antics today.
“I just thought of the perfect wife for Gertrude!” Hogan said with an evil grin. The thought of getting that hag off of Klink’s back permanently lifted his mood, and again he stomped down the reason why. Not the time and not the place to think about that, he told himself.
“Really? Who might that be?” inquired Burkhalter curiously. Nobody had ever been willing to marry his sister since Otto had been declared missing in action, so that was an interesting proclamation to him!
“Private Berger,” the American said jubilantly, looking very pleased with himself.
“Private Berger? Why him?” asked Burkhalter, pondering what had prompted this line of discussion in the first place.
“Besides the fact that he’s young, single, decent enough looking and searching for a wife?” asked Hogan wryly. “He’s that guy who was Major Hochstetter’s spy…the one who tried to make sure the Gestapo could completely absorb and control the Luftwaffe. He doesn’t have much military experience either, so he’s easily moldable into whatever you want him to be. If nothing else, he’s a private...which means there’s nobody below him on the totem pole to pass the buck to,” he finished smugly.
As the door opened, the Austrian general thought about that. “You make some valid points, Hogan. I will make the arrangements right away.” He looked at the tall German, who was beaming at Hogan’s cleverness once again. “It appears that you are permanently off the hook in that regard, Klink…so consider yourself lucky.” He gave them a casual salute and added, “Auf Wiedersehen, gentlemen.”
“Auf Wiedersehen,” Klink and Hogan said together as they both returned it and left the room, the door shutting behind them.

The aftermath…
As soon as the door closed and they were alone in the hallway, the smile faded away. “Are you crazy, Hogan?” Klink demanded as they made their way towards the exit. “What were you thinking?! Reichsmarshall Göring is a very powerful man, and –”
“– he’s about to be a dead one, effective three days from now,” finished Hogan flatly. “Or did you miss that part, sir?”
Klink’s shoulders slumped as he was reminded of that. Despite disagreeing about their political views, he’d found the head of the Luftwaffe to be…well, not as big an asshole as he was expecting. The older man didn’t like the idea of death anyway, but the fact that people were still being killed even after the war’s end bothered him. “No, I did not,” he admitted. “Do I really want to know how or why you set this meeting up, Hogan?”
“I thought you might like to meet the guy in charge of your organization. That’s all,” Hogan said simply with a shake of his head. “You were so excited when you thought the funny painter had come to Stalag 13, and I thought you’d actually like to meet someone that was the real deal for once.”
A flash of a blue-gray uniform caught his eye, and Hogan gave Klink that lopsided grin of his. “But you probably don’t want to know how I did it, because it makes things a lot easier. If you feel like you can’t handle that without some training, maybe you should go ask Schultz to teach you about his ‘I know nothing’ policy. I understand it’s pretty easy to learn,” he suggested cheekily.
“Hogan, would you be serious for once in your life?” Klink snapped, apparently not seeing what Hogan had and ignoring the rest of what he’d said.
“No, really. He’s right over there,” Hogan replied, the grin still on his face as he pointed the other German out. “Hey, Schultz!” he called out as he waved.
With a sigh, Klink responded, “Hogan, why would Sergeant Schultz be –” He cut himself off as the big man came over to them. “Schultz, what are you doing in that uniform? And where is yours?” he demanded, wondering what new game this was.
“Herr Kommandant, this is my uniform. General Hogan told Corporal Newkirk to make it for me,” Schultz explained as he gave Klink a salute. “Hello, General Hogan. I hope you are well.”
Closing his eyes and sighing, Klink said, “Of course he did. Please explain…now.” Sometimes his troublemaker gave him a raging headache, and this was becoming one of those times.
The former Sergeant of the Guard looked both ways before whispering, “Reichsmarshall Göring’s direct orders, Herr Kommandant. I met him earlier, but I was so scared that I fainted.”
“I’m just fine, Schultzie. And don’t feel too bad…the Kommandant developed a sudden stuttering problem when we met him,” Hogan said with a wink. “He stood up so fast he knocked the chair over. The epitome of grace, General Klink is.”
“Hogan!” snapped Klink, his cheeks briefly flushing pink with embarrassment before looking at his subordinate again. “Continue, Schultz.”
Schultz smiled and tapped his shoulder, indicating his new badge of rank. In a normal voice, he said, “He told me that I should thank General Hogan for the promotion, Herr Kommandant, and he also gave me his congratulations on being such a loyal second in command to you. I did not know you saw me as loyal, Herr Kommandant.”
“Of course he did,” Klink repeated. “And neither did I, so that makes two of us.” He gave his brat a glare, and Hogan just gave him an innocent look in return. “So…Herr Reichsmarshall made you a second lieutenant, Schultz?” he asked in disbelief.
“Jawohl, Herr Kommandant,” the new lieutenant said with a smile. “And General Burkhalter was there as well. He handed me this paper before I left.” Then Schultz proudly pulled out a letter to show them. It basically said the same thing as Klink’s letter saying that he was an ally, only with his information on it instead. “Thank you so much, General Hogan!”
“Aw, it was nothing, Schultz,” responded Hogan, looking uncomfortable with the praise. “Couldn’t let somebody get the wrong idea and shoot you, now could I? Who would run your toy factory?” He shrugged and added casually, “If you get shot, it should be for something you actually did wrong…like eating the last piece of cake, for example,” he ended with a laugh.
“Hmmph, always a jolly joker,” Schultz replied, but he sounded amused anyway.
“You know it! And you said once before that nobody *would believe our Schultz was an officer...what about now, General?" Hogan asked Klink cheekily.
“Silence, Hogan!” the tall German said irritably with a stomp of his foot. His second in command was managing to irritate him as usual, and he also wanted out of this horrible place as quickly as possible. But as usual, Hogan wasn’t making things any easier for him.
“I am not amused by your insolence!” he added, giving the American a dirty look before turning his gaze to Schultz. “So how did you get to meet Herr Reichsmarshall, Schultz?”
“Oh, that is easy, Herr Kommandant,” the fat lieutenant said agreeably. “It was a reward from General Hogan for being useful to him and his men.”
Alarm bells went off inside Hogan’s head as he realized where this conversation was headed. He needed to talk to the big man privately first, but that didn’t look like it was going happen. Hogan wanted to break the news to Klink himself, in his own way. He took a step back and shook his head, making the throat slicing motion repeatedly with his left hand. But Schultz didn’t see it and kept on talking.
“I knew that they had their tunnels this whole time, Herr Kommandant. I had seen it a few times before in Barracks 2, with the bunk bed that lifted up! Oh boy, it was so carefully hidden! But even though I saw everything, I still knew nuuu-thing!” the jovial officer said. “And I heard nuuu-thing!”
Hogan let out a low groan, causing his self-appointed disciplinarian to give him a wicked grin. The grin said, ‘You seem to have left a few things out of your story’. Overall, it wasn’t pleasant to see. “Really? How interesting. What else happened at Stalag 13 that I did not know about?” Klink asked casually, his voice sounding extremely unhappy with his troublemaker.
“Oh, so many things, Herr Kommandant,” the fat German said happily. Clearly, Klink’s tone of voice wasn’t registering on his radar. “They gave me delicious chocolates! And cigarettes, and strudel! Oh, so much strudel,” he said wistfully as he remembered the taste of it.
“Every time they were up to some monkey business, they would give me these things…and then, I would always know nuuu-thing! They had your office bugged, Herr Kommandant…the bug was in a picture, and they used a coffee pot to listen to your conversations,” Schultz added with a deep laugh. “Those very naughty boys, always up to no good. But I saw nuuu-thing, because I dislike fighting and war. And they helped to end both of those things so much faster –”
“Ooookay Schultzie, that’s enough with the stories!” Hogan interrupted hastily after a quick look at Klink. The older general looked furious, and Hogan wanted his friend long gone before Klink’s wrath spilled over. Actually if he really thought about it, he kind of wanted to leave too! “I think the Kommandant’s a little upset, so you’d better go,” he added briskly. “Come on, let me see you out.”
But he hadn’t taken even two steps away when Klink grabbed him by the neck of his jacket, causing Hogan to let out a high-pitched and very unmanly “Eeep!” of surprise as he was yanked back to Klink’s side.
“No, Hogan…you will stay right here. I am sure Schultz can see his own way out,” Klink said firmly. “Goodbye, Lieutenant!”
The big man took one look at both of them, after which he decided maybe he didn’t want to be there anymore. He gave a hasty “I see nuuu-thing! And I know nuuu-thing! Goodbye, Herr Kommandant! Goodbye, General Hogan!” After that, he waddled away quickly.
“You could’ve ‘known nothing’ a few minutes earlier, Schultz!” Hogan called after him as the fat lieutenant disappeared.
“Very naughty boys indeed,” said Klink as he gave his brat an appraising look. “Or at least one very naughty boy!” he added, watching Hogan visibly gulp with a degree of satisfaction.
As they resumed walking, Klink began to speak again. “So, Hogan…you had already told me everything, eh? The entire, unaltered truth, correct?” he asked, sounded peeved.
“Yes!” his brat said weakly, knowing this wasn’t going to end well. Damnit, I should’ve run ahead and talked to Schultz before I pointed him out to Klink! Stupid, Rob, stupid! he berated himself. His butt was still causing him some pain, and the throbs increased in frequency at the thought of being spanked again. The reasonable part of him knew Klink would never hurt him, or even punish him if he couldn’t handle it safely – that had been the entire problem he’d had last night when he’d bugged Klink about the spoon – but there would always be that small part of him that was unsure about that knowledge.
“Then why is this new information to me, Hogan?” Klink demanded as he gave a scathing look to the American general. “Schultz knew about all of this the entire time! He knew, yet he did not let me know! I am his commanding officer, and to tell me was his duty! I will have him dishonorably discharged!”
They had reached the door of the building, and now they made their way across the grounds to the gate. Hogan just shook his head and winced. That reaction was what he’d been afraid of, and why he hadn’t mentioned it back at Stalag 13. He hadn’t needed to cause Schultz any kind of problems! Now he just needed to make the older man see that as well.
“Relax, Kommandant. How could he tell you anything without you thinking he was some sort of a traitor?” Knowing he had to say more than just that, Hogan added, “Be reasonable, sir. His ‘know nothing’ policy kept him out of trouble on both sides. I know you’re mad – and rightfully so – but we can discuss this later on, and we’ll find a solution that works for both of us.” And I already know what that solution is gonna be too. I’d have to be an idiot not to know by now, he added mentally.
“Just tell me one thing, Hogan,” Klink said. “Why did you not you tell me this before we left Stalag 13? I thought you trusted me,” he said gloomily as they exited the prisoner of war camp and made their way to the borrowed Jeep. He was alternating between being angry and sad, but right now being sad was winning.
“I do, I genuinely do!” the American exclaimed, hating how Klink’s voice had changed tones out of nowhere. “But something like that doesn’t just affect me. Lieutenant Schultz is still subordinate to you, and I couldn’t tell you something like without it possibly affecting his career. You might have had him sent to the Russian Front on principle,” he added.
Klink recognized that his troublemaker had some valid points…and if Hogan had stopped before he’d said his last sentence, he would’ve been in the clear. But that last remark was what set the older general off again. “Hogan, if you think that I would just send a decent man somewhere that he would almost certainly be killed, you have much to learn about me. Because I would never do such a thing, and the fact that you could even think that saddens me. I thought we knew each other better by now. You disappoint me in that aspect,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the Jeep.
“I am very upset with you right now, Hogan. So for now, all I want to hear you say to me are the directions to get back to the plane…and a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer to my questions.” Klink looked over at his troublemaker, who was hanging his head in shame after the short scolding. “I expect you will want to settle this in our usual way at some point?” he inquired, holding out his slender hand for the keys. “With the same added elements from the night at Stalag 13 that we had our fight?” He kept his words vague on purpose, mindful of the fact that they could potentially be overheard.
“Yes to both questions, Kommandant,” Hogan said moodily as he forked the keys over. On one hand, he was glad that the whole matter was out in the open…it meant no more lies between them. On the other hand, he wasn’t looking forward to yet another punishment, simply because he’d made the wrong call about something. Just because he loved the emotional release he got from them didn’t mean that they didn’t hurt! Hogan could honestly say that the reminder ones hurt his butt far less, and sometimes they could be enjoyable if they’d both had a good day. At times like those, the swats weren’t as hard, after all.
The thing was, it wasn’t like this was something extraordinarily huge. It was a problem, that was for sure. But he’d weathered worse things in the time he’d known Klink. No, the real problem was that he felt torn between two impossible situations. On one hand, he’d told Klink before that he’d now admitted everything that had happened in the past three years to him. So he could see why the German general felt betrayed in that sense, because he thought that Hogan had purposely lied to him.
But on the other hand, Hogan hadn’t said anything about it because he’d needed to talk to Schultz first! After they had talked, he had been planning to come clean about that too, so long as he got the okay to do so. But obviously things hadn’t worked out that way for him. This was one of those ‘damned if you, damned if you don’t’ situations, and despite knowing that he felt horribly guilty. Even so, Hogan appreciated how Klink had remembered what he said when it came to the spankings he inevitably earned himself.
“I thought as much,” acknowledged Klink as he checked his mirrors. He’d figured that might be the case, but he’d wanted to confirm that with Hogan first before he did anything. Damnmit, he still had that compassionate streak in him. He wanted to be mad right now! “When you are fully healed – which I will determine in my own way, since you might lie to me about it – and when we have the privacy and the time to do so, we will handle this.” The unspoken word ‘too’ hung in the air, even though that wasn’t the tall German’s intention.
Letting out a disappointed sigh with his remorseful brat – who just couldn’t seem to get it right – he continued. “But if you badger me about it, I will do nothing instead…and from what you have told me, that would be the worse of your two options. I do not need you pestering me consistently again about such things, because that was exceedingly irritating when you did it before. Do you understand me, young man?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Hogan whispered, sounding unquestionably heartbroken at the fact that he’d disappointed Klink again. Even if the former Kommandant hadn’t already directly said it, he could hear it in Klink’s tone. He figured he still had about three days before the pain faded completely, and about five days before he would be considered ‘fully healed’ by regular standards. It’s gonna be the longest five days I ever waited for, he thought. And that was only if they could get privacy, or it could be longer yet!
And yet Klink could hear the unusual tone Hogan had used, and prior experience with his troublemaker told him what to expect as a result. Against his better judgement, the German officer gave American’s hair a quick stroke with his slender hand. “Do not fret so much, Hogan. I have always considered your wants and needs in this regard, but I must be practical as well. You of all people should know that practical wants come before personal ones…little brat,” he finished, tacking the nickname on the end of his sentence on purpose. He needed Hogan to know that everything would be alright in the end – that he wouldn’t be angry forever, he was just upset right now – and to also not to do something else foolish in the meantime!
“Completely understood, sir,” the former senior POW officer responded, his tone a much lighter one now. Neither one said anything more about the situation after that. But Hogan had seen what Klink had done at the end of that explanation, and the small consideration made him smile faintly. As the Jeep started up, he began to give Klink the directions as previously requested. He couldn’t wait for them to get back to the plane, because it was his turn to fly it now!

A/N: ‘Top Secret’ security clearance is the highest level clearance in the military. Naturally Hogan would have it, and if Klink was going to ever be able to work with Hogan in any kind of way, he would need it too so that they could discuss work.
The Jeeps the Germans used in WW2 looked more like a low-slung, armored car than anything else. They were a lot more bulky, but they did have doors! American WW2 Jeeps, however, did not.
Central Continental Prisoner of War Enclosure No. 32 (Camp Ashcan) was a real prisoner-of-war camp that operated from May – August of 1945 under British control. It was located in the town of Mondorf-les-Bains in the country of Luxembourg, and it’s where eighty-six of the most prominent Nazis were imprisoned prior to the Nuremberg Trials. While Luxembourg borders Germany, it was still considered its own country at that time. To say that living conditions were terrible would be overselling it by a long shot…the camp was a place nobody should ever have to set foot in, let alone live.
Hermann Göring established the Gestapo on November 30th, 1933, but gave control of it over to Heinrich Himmler on April 20th, 1934.
In reality, Göring was tried at the Nuremberg Trials. And they didn’t start until November 20th, 1945, going until October 1st, 1946. But I gave him a separate (and quicker) trial for this story. He was sentenced to hang like a common criminal, so he asked them to be executed by firing squad instead like the military officer he was instead. Since the tribunal refused, he got one of the guards to slip him the cyanide pill they’d previously confiscated from him. He then used it to commit suicide the night before he was sentenced to die. Let me just say that I’m no Nazi sympathizer…I was just trying to describe how he probably saw the entire event.
I underlined and boldened some of the words Schultz says to show how he emphasizes some words.
A second lieutenant is one rank above a sergeant, and it is considered an officer rank.
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