Chapter Thirty-Two: The Things That Make Us Think

"Well, Herr Major," said Doctor Heiman. "You will be leaving tomorrow morning." He set down his chart and looked at his very ungrateful patient.

"Sehr gut," said Hochstetter, crossing his arms. "I was sick of this place the moment I stepped in."

"You were not even conscious then, Herr Major," commented Doctor Heiman softly. It was the most he could manage to say. He wanted to say a lot more, but figured he could hold out one more day. Hochstetter still gave him a quick glare.

"Just let me know if there are any visitors, Herr Artz," he growled back. It was obvious to Heiman that the Major was tenser these past few days. He wondered about the visitor he had gotten about two days earlier. The young Corporal had never returned and no word had come from him, albeit that Hochstetter had told Heiman that the Luftwaffe Corporal would probably be making another return.

But he had never returned, and now Hochstetter looked like he was ready to snap someone's neck off. Fortunately, he was being returned to the world still unable to get around much. He would be confined to some crutches to help himself walk. For some time, as well. Heiman secretly wished it was for the rest of the war, so that perhaps whoever his unlucky adversary was would have a winning chance on survival at least.

"Jawohl, Herr Major," replied Heiman dutifully. He gave a curt nod and left the room. Upon returning to his office quickly to gather up some files, he found an envelope on his desk. A note lay on it, written in his secretary's hand, saying that it had been dropped off for Major Hochstetter by another Gestapo soldier.

"Ah," said Heiman to himself. "Perhaps this will make our Major's last day here a bit more capable for him." He gathered his files, and then took up the note as well. He came back to Hochstetter's room, and handed the envelope to the Major. "Here you are, Herr Major. This was left for you by one of your colleagues. He must have been in a rush to not have been able to give it to you personally."

Immediately, there was suspicion in Hochstetter's eyes. Heiman felt like rolling his own eyes. Why could this man not accept things as they were: plain and simple?

"Do you not want it, Herr Major," asked Heiman.

Hochstetter glared and snatched it away. "Danke, Herr Artz."

"Bitte," said Heiman. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must tend to other patients. I hope you enjoy your letter."

He quickly left the room. Hochstetter watched him go, and then looked down at the envelope in his hands. There was no marking on it, which made him wary of it from the start. Normally any document from the Gestapo, even if it was only a note to another agent, would have been marked in some way, so that receiver could assume it was credible. Still, Hochstetter wondered if this was the only way Corporal Lehmann could have contacted him. So, he proceeded to open the envelope. He unfolded the paper inside, which read:

Dear Major Hochstetter,

You have attempted to disband an Underground unit in this Hammelburg area. You have attempted to do this for some time now. I dare say: you have failed. You attempt this again and again, and I suspect that you will not give up. However, in light of recent events that you will soon come to know, you will realize that you are dealing with a well-prepared and well-protected set of Underground agents. These men are not fooled easily. And they will not stand to be messed around with any longer. At least, I will not stand for this much longer. If you continue to challenge them, I will challenge you. And just in case you were not realizing this: I have an advantage, because I can see you and you cannot see me.

I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay at the hospital, Major.

Sincerely,

Your Shadow

Hochstetter placed the letter down slowly, deep in thought. The letter said much more than intended, or perhaps intended. By telling Hochstetter that he had been attempting to disband an Underground unit, the shadow was telling him that Colonel Hogan was the man. That was the only one he had investigated so much. Also, "well-protected" meant to Hochstetter that there were people inside the Nazi military that were in league with them. Also, they probably had a lot of help from other spies planted throughout the country. Hochstetter had always suspected that, but now that he was sure there were Nazi militants on the same side as Hogan, it was a boost of reassurance. The only thing not reassuring was that someone was watching him. Someone obviously knew what he was on to. And someone knew what he had done recently. This "someone" was also correct in the fact that Hochstetter was at a disadvantage. He apparently knew very much about Hochstetter, and most likely had been watching him for a time. Since Hochstetter had not even suspected him or sensed that anyone was watching him, he could only assume that said someone was very good at his job. That was definitely someone Hochstetter did not want to deal with more than he had to.

However, to give up was not Hochstetter's style. He knew that Hogan was the culprit and perhaps it was even Hogan who had somehow sent him this letter as a warning. But whoever it was, he was not intimidated enough by them to completely give up his search. Now he knew the game. He would wait, and watch, send out his own probes in different directions, hopefully showing his shadow that he was being submissive. And when they had their guard down, after Hochstetter's display of submission, was when he would attack once again. After all, he was getting closer each time. But for now, he would wait.

()()()()()()

Hogan sat down beside the radio, drumming his fingers on the workbench, deep in thought, and oblivious to much around him. He was so oblivious, he did not even notice Carter come down the stairs behind him, dropping to the floor with a solid thud and then amiably walking on over without minding noise.

"Hey Colonel," said Carter.

Hogan flinched and turned around quickly. "Carter! You startled me there, boy."

"Oh, sorry, Colonel," said Carter. "I was just coming down to tell you that dinner is ready. Or, at least what dinner is around here now. I mean, if you're done talking to London and all."

"Yeah, I am," said Hogan grudgingly. He stood up. "Thanks."

"London pushing you around, sir," asked Carter.

"No, not really," said Hogan. "I just don't like what they're doing. Still, I know why they have to do it."

"You mean about giving everyone's name to them," asked Carter. Without waiting for a reply, he went on. "Yeah, I know whatcha mean. We give everyone's name and rank and all of that when they first get here. You'd think that would be enough."

"Well," said Hogan. "Every now and then we find someone who does pass the tests, but isn't right. We just manage to catch them before they catch us. But lately...well apparently, not everything was as it seems, and London just wants to make sure we aren't going to really get it the next time."

"Sir," said Carter. "I know you've been taking it hard on yourself lately, mostly about the security of our operation, but even more so with what happened with Perkins. But you can't. Because Perkins was a good guy. He was one of us; he just…just went the wrong way I guess. He didn't know what he was doing."

"I know Carter," said Hogan. It had been five days since the incident, and it hardly left his mind. "But the fact that it happened, and that maybe it'll happen again, is what makes me troubled. There are other things, too, but I don't want to talk about it right now. Let's just go eat. Maybe it'll be something better than tomorrow."

"It's potatoes, sir," said Carter. "I don't think it gets any better. We've hit the peak."

Hogan chuckled. "You're probably right. C'mon."

Outside, they joined everyone as they got into a line that wove in a semi-circle around the compound. There were three steaming pots, with the same soup they had been receiving each day: potato soup with a new vegetable mixed in. The vegetables varied between carrots, cabbage, mushroom, or broccoli, and they were a treat in the watery soup. They received three bowls a day: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Water was served out in mugs from the well. It was enough to keep them going, and each day more supplies came in. Construction on the new mess hall continued at a steady rate. It was decided that a separate building for the food supplies would be built, in case the hall went up in flames again. There was hope again in the camp. Hope that everything was going to finish all right.

From the infirmary, Wilson walked on over to Carter and Hogan.

"Hey," he said. "Coming out for the last delicacy of the day?"

Hogan smiled. "Yep, my mouth is just watering for it."

"You don't have to tell me," said Wilson. "Newkirk would refuse it completely if LeBeau didn't threaten to tie him down and force feed him."

Carter laughed. "Yeah, Colonel, you should've seen them yesterday when LeBeau brought him lunch. I thought they were gonna have a fist fight! Even if Newkirk was still injured."

Hogan shook his head with a smile. "Those two are too stubborn for their own good."

"And you, Colonel," asked Wilson.

"Oh, be quiet, Sergeant," said Hogan. He took his bowl from the prisoner serving it. "Thanks."

"You don't have to act grateful, sir," replied the private good naturedly. "No one else is."

"At least we have food," noted Carter.

"How is Newkirk, Wilson," asked Hogan. "When do you think he'll be able to get out of there?"

"I'd say next week at the latest," said Wilson, taking his own bowl. They stepped out of the line and went over to the well to fill their mugs with some water. "He's been getting better faster than I expected. His wrist and ribs are fully healed, and his back is probably okay. He can get up when he wants, more mobile. But I don't want him to rush into anything, which I know he'll do if I release him now. So, we'll wait a few more days."

"You sure are devious," said Hogan.

"Why thanks," said Wilson.

"I'm gonna go eat with Newkirk and LeBeau," said Carter. He filled up his mug. "Wanna come with me?"

"I will," said Wilson. "Colonel?"

Hogan shook his head. "Nah, I'm just going to walk around a bit."

"All right," said Wilson. He and Carter took their drinks and headed back to the infirmary. Hogan watched them go, and then started strolling around the camp as he sipped his soup.

Wilson looked at Carter. "The Colonel is thinking hard lately, isn't he?"

"Yeah," answered Carter. "He's just stressed I think. I think London is treating him more badly than he admits. They took everyone's name, you know, but he doesn't like it. He says he knows why, cause it makes sense, but it still bothers him. And it bothers him that all of this happened."

Wilson opened the door and they walked in. "He would. Don't worry, he'll come around. London won't find anything and then it'll smooth over. And maybe when we get better food, he'll be in a better mood too."

"I think everyone will," said Carter. He stopped and watched the scene before him.

Kinch was sitting on the bed next to Newkirk, his feet propped up on the bedside table. LeBeau was standing over Newkirk with a bowl and a spoon, and Newkirk sitting up in the bed, his eyes lit up with stubborn anger at LeBeau.

"No," he was plainly stating. "I'm not takin' another bite o' that. It's ruddy cabbage, mate. I've 'ad enough o' cabbage."

"But you 'ave to eat mon ami," argued LeBeau. "You need to regain strength."

"I'm fine," Newkirk nearly yelled. "I ate me breakfast and lunch. I think that's good enough."

"LeBeau," said Wilson. The others looked at him. "I think it'll be fine for Newkirk to not eat anymore. He doesn't do as much as you do during the day anyway. And if he's fighting you off, he's got enough strength."

"Thank you kindly, Mum," said Newkirk.

LeBeau scowled, but set the bowl aside and sat down. "Well, as long as you eat most of your meals each day."

"Trust me, Louie," said Newkirk. "With Mum around, I get it all in."

Wilson smiled. "I'm honored to be recognized for my acts of bravery."

The others laughed. Kinch finished his bowl first and stood up. "Where's Colonel Hogan?"

"Walking around the camp," answered Carter. "Thinking."

"'E does that too much," said Newkirk.

"You do it too little," remarked LeBeau.

"Kinch," asked Wilson. He noticed the somber look on the radioman's face.

"I'm going to go talk to him," said Kinch. "Ya know, just to make sure he's okay. It's been stressful around here lately."

"Gee, 'as it really," asked Newkirk sarcastically.

Kinch scowled at him. "Ya know, buddy, I think I liked you better when you weren't responding."

"Hey," shouted Carter. "That's not very nice."

But Newkirk and LeBeau were laughing anyway.

"S'alright, Carter," said Newkirk. "Get on out o' 'ere Kinch. Go 'elp the Guv'nor."

Kinch just smiled and left. Outside, he just asked a few people if they had seen Colonel Hogan, and soon enough, he spotted him walking the perimeter. A lot of prisoners did that when they had to think. Kinch had done it himself at times. He had seen others walk around the camp nearly ten times before they were satisfied. At first, he wondered if he should interrupt at all. But thinking back, they Colonel hadn't been himself for the past few days. The troubles of the camp, both internal and external, were wearing down on him. Kinch thought it would do him some good to have someone to talk to. He walked on over, and met the Colonel's stride, continuing to walk with him.

"Hey, Colonel, you okay?"

"Yeah."

"That's what I thought. You wanna talk about anything?"

"Not really."

"Well, is it all right if I walk with you?"

"Sure."

So Kinch walked on with him, patiently waiting because he knew that if he stayed long enough, Hogan would say something eventually. And he was right; only one time and a half around, and Hogan finally spoke.

"There is something, Kinch," he said softly. He looked around some. Kinch noted that they were on a more empty section of the camp. "But I can't…I don't want it to sound the wrong way."

"So it's a touchy subject," said Kinch.

"Yeah," said Hogan. "Something I'd never thought about before. But it's London…them and their stupid investigations."

"You think there may actually be more people here that are traitors," asked Kinch.

"No," said Hogan. "I don't think that. And I don't think London will find that. But these investigations just made me think. Probably think too much. When I was giving everyone's names, I was thinking about them; who they were. I don't talk to a lot of the men her all the time, but I can remember when each man came, or when I first met them. I can remember what people told me about them and such. But if there was never a problem, I didn't worry. But…well, Wilson told me that Newkirk was sort of upset because Perkins was like him in some ways. Ya know: where they came from, their skills, how they acquired them, and even their attitudes and personality were sort of the same. And Newkirk thought that if Perkins could be turned like that, why couldn't he?"

"That's ridiculous, sir," said Kinch. "I trust Newkirk with my life, and I would bet my life ten times over that he would never turn because he was hungry."

"I know that," said Hogan. "And I say the same thing. But that's not my point. You see, I trust Newkirk, but all these other…conmen—for lack of a better word—well, I don't know…or I wonder…how much can I trust them?"

Kinch frowned. "You're thinking that if something like this ever happened again, where a bribe was held over our heads, who would turn and who wouldn't?"

"Right," said Hogan. "If this bribe was something that put one above others, whether it be money or freedom, would someone actually go for it?"

"And you're thinking more about people who've…got a cloudy past," asked Kinch. "In other words…criminals."

"Not criminals Kinch," said Hogan quickly. "They're here, fighting aren't they? They had to have had some love for their country, their family, their people's freedom. They've got to be good men. Perkins was; that's what made him kill himself. He knew what he was doing was wrong; or rather he came to realize what he had done. He wasn't completely a bad man. His judgment though, was blurred by hunger, and his own greediness." Hogan stopped walking. "What if that greediness was something coming back from the days when he was stealing money and robbing people blind?"

"Everyone had greediness in them, sir," said Kinch.

"Yes, they do," said Hogan. "And what makes someone 'good'—so society says—is whether or not they refuse to feed their greediness or not."

"It says they're a better person," said Kinch. "It says that they're stronger. That even though they can't have what they want, they won't do something illegal for it, or something that will hurt anyone to get it."

"Right," said Hogan. "Which is why I'm wondering. I used to think it was a good thing having these people around. They're useful. They can get into anything they want, and don't feel bad about it. They don't have second thoughts. At least, they don't act like it. But now, if they were tested again, so to speak, would they pass or fail? If something big came around, a matter of life or death, would they save their own skins, or would they stick with their comrades?"

"Sir," said Kinch. "I think you're over thinking all of this. One man screwed up, but you can't believe that everyone else like him is going to screw up too. Maybe Perkins didn't change as much as we thought. But a lot of the people here have changed, and for the better. They do have second thoughts. Some show it, and others don't. We don't. We push our feelings aside, because we have to work."

"Are we good men, Kinch," asked Hogan.

"I believe we are," replied Kinch without hesitation. "I think about it, when we have to take a life, or even some lives. But if I feel remorse about it, or I think about it that much, God knows I really am sorry about it. He knows we don't want to be here, doing what we do. And He knows we've chosen to stay because we're fighting for the greater good. We're fighting for this overall purpose that we can't let someone like Hitler run Europe over, stealing more than a few lives. Yes, sir, we are good men. Every man in this camp is a good man, despite their past or future."

Hogan smiled. "I'm glad I have you around Kinch. Now, if you could just convince London of that, I'd feel better."

"Why," asked Kinch. "Were they starting to categorize people?"

"No," said Hogan. "But I have a feeling they will. Once they realize who's done time, and who hasn't, and which category Perkins fell into, I think they'll start asking questions. All I worry about is: what if they're right?"

Kinch was silent, because he knew that the Colonel had a thought there. If someone was tested enough, would they give in? It was a question they all thought about. They said they would not, but temptation or pain could be terrible.

"Sir," he finally said. "We just have to make sure that in the future, there aren't any more chances for a man to be tempted too much. In the same way we protect each other from the Gestapo, we should try and protect one another from getting into testy situations. Then, we'll never have to answer this God-awful question."

"I guess that's all we can do, isn't it," said Hogan.

"Yes, sir, that's all," said Kinch.

They started walking around the compound again. Some of the other prisoners would wave at them, or greet the Colonel. He would amiably respond to them, easily smiling, as if there was not anything wrong. And Kinch knew Hogan had the hardest job in the camp. He knew so many terrible things, but he had to protect the innocence of his men, and subject as few as he could to the terrible realities they would face. His number one job in his own heart and mind was to get every man home safely, and even one life lost was hurtful. It was pressed against every man's mind, that it was unlikely that they could hold out the entire war. That they would most likely be found out, and very few would actually survive. And knowing all of this, and much more, Hogan would continue to make his rounds around the camp, instilling a sense of security in every man, that it was okay for now. So they lived on every minute of the day, enjoying the normality while they could. Because normal meant that they were not being discovered, which meant a few more days of life at least, until the next mission, and then it would start all over again.

THE END