Chapter 36-A Memory Best Forgotten
It had now been forty-eight hours after things had returned to normal at Stalag 13, when what had begun as a wonderful day for all, soon became a day Colonel Hogan didn't want to remember as the incident that occurred caused a painful memory to return.
Today began like any other except that Hogan and his men were waiting impatiently to hear from the underground about getting von Herwarth, Aleit and Werner to the rendezvous place and the sub. Several times Hogan had climbed down into the tunnel inquiring of Kinch if he had heard anything. Monitoring the radio most of the day, all Kinch could do was worriedly shake his head and utter 'Sorry Colonel' causing the officer to return upstairs frustrated.
It was finally early evening when Kinch knocked on the closed door of his commanding officer's private quarters. Waiting for a response, Kinch allowed his eyes to scan the message in his hand knowing Hogan would be stunned and saddened. He opened the door when he heard the Colonel grant permission.
Kinch hesitated upon entering and closed the door the door behind him. "Message from the underground, Colonel," he said softly handing the message to Hogan whose eyes narrowed seeing Kinch's face. "What's wrong? Has something happened?" He noticed Kinch's eyes were downcast; Hogan read the message and a lump formed in his throat and his eyes became moist.
"Sorry, Colonel. I spoke with Carl. Seems they were escorting von Herwarth, Aleit and Werner to the rendezvous place and were surprised by a Kraut patrol. There was an exchange of gunfire and Aleit was killed instantly. Werner made a break for it and was mistaken by the patrol for an underground operative trying to escape and was shot dead. And three of Carl's men were killed as well, but he and two others managed to get away and get von Herwarth to the rendezvous with the sub. He's en-route to London with the journal. They took care of the bodies so there's no connection to us or them."
"No," Hogan whispered in anguish looking up at his radioman. Kinch could see the pain in his commander's eyes knowing how deeply he took the death of innocents especially those of the underground. Hogan tucked the message in his jacket pocket then massaged his forehead and sighed. "Kinch, I need to be alone for awhile. And unless it's something urgent, you handle it for me."
"Yes, sir. Will you be all right? Is there anything I can do?"
"There's nothing you or anybody can do. But thanks for asking though."
"Should I tell Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau what happened?"
"Go ahead. They were there with us. But don't tell anybody else. I'll handle that later. Thanks."
Nodding, Kinch opened the door and slowly walked out with a last glimpse over his shoulder of his commanding officer who stretched out on his lower bunk with an arm draped across his face. And although he wasn't sure, Kinch thought he heard the Colonel's muffled sobs. He felt he wanted to do something to ease the Colonel's pain, but had no idea what. So for right now, he quietly exited the room closing the door behind him.
Hogan felt drained after awhile. Usually one to maintain his emotions and not allow anybody see him fall apart, he right now didn't care who saw. He felt nothing where Werner was concerned, but Aleit and three of Carl's men were dead and it was too much to handle especially after everything that had happened, but he felt it was his fault somehow. He never should have gotten Aleit involved at the end. He should have kept her hidden in the tunnels for a few days and then gotten her out of Germany separately. But no, he had to use her in his plan and it had gotten her killed. Her blood was and would be forever on his hands.
Aleit's death reminded Hogan of another death that pained him even more which took place a year after his arrival at Stalag 13:
It had started with the prisoners mail being delivered to barracks two that day. Hogan had received from each of his brothers and sisters, one from his mother, and a separate one from his father. Preferring to read his mail in private, he disappeared into his quarters, closed the door, and plopped down on his lower bunk. He read the letters from his siblings first each one updating him about what was happening in their lives: His brother, John Robert, was married and he and his wife were expecting a new baby in addition to the three they already had, while John Robert's twin sister Katherine had met someone and was now engaged. Michael Thomas, was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army, and finally, his sister Sarah was working as a nurse. But in each letter, Hogan felt something was being kept from him although he didn't know what; and even though he didn't know what the censors cut out of the letters, something was wrong. Picking up the next letter, he recognized his father's handwriting and immediately suspected something was not right. His father's normally strong handwriting appeared weak and shaky. Opening it, Hogan removed the folded pages and after unfolding them, began to read, his feeling and worry becoming stronger as he did so. As he read each line, he found himself trying to read between the lines as well.
'Dear Son,
First I must apologize for not writing as often as I want to, but let me begin by letting you know that I am fully recovered from the flu I was suffering from. I hope things are all right with you and that you are well. I know having been a prisoner-of-war, there are many things we discussed when I returned home that hopefully helped you since you are now a prisoner of the Germans. I only wish I hadn't had to tell you those things much less having you become one. My only wish is that you not suffer what I suffered as a prisoner. I would give anything to have you not go through this. But deep down, I know you to be a strong man and will survive whatever the enemy throws at you. Just hold on to and let your faith guide you, keep you safe, and bring you home to us. Your mother and I along with the rest of the family can't wait to see you.
Finally, I want to tell you how proud we all are over what you've accomplished. You have far exceeded me in the Army and I expect you to accomplish even greater things. Just keep in mind that no matter what happens, your mother and I love you very, very much. Take care of yourself and stay well.
All My Love,
Dad'
Hogan recalled how he continued studying the letter from his father after he had finished it. To him, it sounded like a goodbye letter. But his father had said he was feeling well and had recovered from the flu, didn't he? Maybe he was just overreacting because of his father's declining health in recent years. He put the letter on top of the others and opened the last one which was from his mother. He sighed as he removed the single sheet of paper inside and began to read. But his heart stopped as his eyes froze on the first line.
'My Dearest Son,
I'm so sorry to have to tell you this by mail, but your father passed away a day after suffering what the doctors said was a massive heart attack…'
Hogan couldn't recall reading the rest of the letter. His father was dead? That couldn't be. His father had been recovering. How could he now be dead? He'd just read a letter from his father. His eyes then noticed the date of his mother's letter; it was dated five months ago. He picked up the letter from his father and looked at the date; it was also dated five months ago but a week earlier. So between the time his father wrote his letter and his mother wrote hers, his father suffered a massive heart attack and died. He had had a feeling that his siblings were hiding something from him. As far back as he could remember, whenever there was something wrong in the Hogan family, it was always his parents who broke the news and not his siblings.
He massaged his forehead. He just couldn't picture his life without his dad in it.
"Oh G-d. Dad, I'm gonna miss you more than you know," he murmured, his eyes becoming moist. He was stuck here in this backwater sewer with no way to help his family deal with this tragedy. In fact, all he could think about right now was escaping from Stalag 13 and getting back home to help and be there for his mother. But it was just a fleeting thought.
Hogan wiped his face with the back of both hands and slowly got to his feet; he had to see Klink. The Shiva was important and he would partake of it even if Klink refused his request. Sliding the letters under his blanket, Hogan opened the door of his quarters and in a daze walked out into the common room. Most of the prisoners were outside in the compound enjoying the weather while they could. But Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk were seated at the table drinking coffee, laughing and talking. They looked up hearing footsteps approaching and were troubled when they saw their commander's red eyes and tear-stained face.
"Mon Colonel, what is wrong?" asked a deeply worried LeBeau. He had never seen the Colonel cry over anything before. "Did you receive bad news from home?" He had noticed the letters Hogan had received as had the others.
Massaging his forehead again, Hogan felt a pounding headache beginning. He stood beside the table and struggled to control his jumbled emotions. "I received a letter from my mother," he said his voice trembling. "My father's dead." There were gasps from the men as they gathered around their Colonel offering their sympathies and condolences. But before any of them could say anything else, Hogan raised a hand and swallowed hard. "I need to see Klink about something. But we'll talk when I get back." He quietly left the barracks and slowly walked across the compound to the Kommandantur.
Moments after the Colonel had left, Carter, who had stood watch at the door, looked over his shoulder. "The Colonel just went inside the Kommandantur."
"All right, " LeBeau said. "Newkirk, get Captain Robertson. He is the closest we have to a Rabbi and handles all denominations here in camp. If he's not in his barracks, find him. He will know what to do."
"Sure thing." The Englander hurried out of the barracks determined not to return without the camp chaplain.
"Hey, LeBeau, is there something we can do for the Colonel? I mean how can we help him right now?" asked a sad-faced Carter.
The Frenchman let out a deep breath. "All we can do is be there for him, and listen should he want to talk. With the mourner, he or she is supposed to initiate the conversations and any visitors during this time are not allowed to divert the conversation from talking about the deceased. If anybody comes to the barracks to pay their condolences, make them aware they should encourage conversation about his father."
Kinch sighed. "Doesn't sound like that will help very much, if you ask me."
LeBeau nodded his understanding. "It may not sound like much to you, Kinch, but it would be of tremendous help to mon Colonel. See, by diverting him from talking about his father limit's the Colonel's ability to fully express grief which is the purpose of the mourning period."
"So what you're saying, is that by letting the Colonel talk about his dad as much as he wants, it'll help him deal with his grief and work through the pain?"
LeBeau smiled and nodded. "Oui, that is exactly what I mean."
The men agreed the best way they could help their commanding officer was to be there for him.
Shifting on his bunk in an attempt to get comfortable, Hogan was restless and couldn't sleep; he found himself now gripping his pendant and holding it tightly in his clutched hand as if someone were planning to take it from him as the memory continued.
Once inside, Hogan noticed Hilda's desk was empty and figured the attractive woman was out performing some task for the Kommandant. He hesitated outside the office door, and let out a deep breath before knocking.
He walked in after hearing permission to enter, closing the door. Standing before the Kommandant's desk, Hogan kept a tight grip on his churning emotions and clasped his hands behind his back.
Looking up moments later from his paperwork, Klink's eyes narrowed seeing the obviously pained expression on the face of his Senior POW officer. Putting down his pen, Klink slowly got to his feet. "Hogan, you look terrible. What's wrong? Are you or one of your men ill?" he asked genuinely concerned.
Hogan let out another deep breath. "I received a letter from my mother today, Kommandant. My father has died, and I…I need some time for mourning."
Klink sat on the edge of his desk. He himself had lost his father years ago and knew how it felt. "I am so sorry, Hogan. Is there anything I can do for you? What do you require within reason of course."
Sighing wearily, Hogan thought it best if he gave a brief explanation of what it was he needed. "There's a period of mourning for those of the Jewish faith called a Shiva; and it lasts for seven days. It's observed by the family of the deceased, preferably in the home of the deceased. But since I'm here instead, and with your permission, sir, I would like to have my sitting Shiva here." Hogan had noticed Klink's puzzled look. "It's called a sitting Shiva because people either sit on low chairs or on the floor. But mainly it's to sit and reflect and coming to terms with one's grief and loss. And until my period of mourning is over, anything other than an emergency involving the men or roll call, Sergeant Kinchloe will be acting in my stead."
Klink nodded, understanding. "Hogan, you have my permission to do what you must as long as it doesn't interfere with the running of this camp. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir." He saluted before turning away and walking quickly toward the door. He could feel his emotions threatening to overwhelm him, and didn't want to lose control in front of the Kommandant. Grabbing the doorknob, he opened the door and started to exit when Klink called out to him.
"Hogan, when will this Shiva begin if I may ask?"
Hogan sighed wearily. "It'll start immediately after I inform my men so they'll know what's happening. Kommandant, I would also appreciate it if you inform Sergeant Schultz and Corporal Langenscheidt in case they notice something they don't understand or find strange, they won't become alarmed.."
"I will handle it, don't worry. Oh, and Hogan, I'm so sorry to hear about your father."
"Thank you, sir," Hogan replied before leaving the office and closing the door, his eyes becoming moist.
Newkirk was staring at a spot on the table with a sad expression on his face. He couldn't get Hogan's pained eyes out of his mind. "Louie, What will the Gov'nor be doing during this mourning period as you call it?"
LeBeau was massaging his lower jaw. "I know some of you don't know a lot about the Jewish faith regarding death and mourning, so I will explain a few things. Regarding the sitting Shiva, the mourner goes through a period of mourning for seven days. Colonel Hogan is not allowed to do certain things, one of which is work. He will probably delegate most of his duties except for the really important ones to his second-in-command," the Frenchman glanced at Kinch. "But because he is in a prisoner-of-war camp, there are some things he must partake in that he wouldn't normally were he at home such as the military requires he must be clean-shaven, keep his hair cut, and appear at roll calls. Also, he is not allowed to do things for comfort or pleasure. There are others but do not apply because of our situation." LeBeau paused for a moment. "As far as reciting the Kaddish, or mourner's prayer, he would normally stand up in front of a minyan or quorum of ten adult Jewish males over the age of thirteen. As we only have seven including mon Colonel, that is out. But anybody who wants to can attend the Shiva; providing they can fit into the Colonel's office. See, normally this takes place in the home of the deceased."
"What happens at a Shiva?" asked a puzzled Carter.
LeBeau sighed. "If a minyan was held, and there were ten adult Jewish men in attendance, the Colonel would stand up before them and recite the Kaddish or mourner's prayer reaffirming his faith in G-d despite the loss of his father. In any religion the mourner would mourn the loss of a parent and blame G-d. But due to the extreme extenuating circumstances, he can recite the Kaddish without the minyan."(1)
Hogan sighed wearily recalling when he had returned to the barracks and facing his men again that day. He really was not in the mood for twenty questions. With a deep sadness in his eyes, he noticed all four men watching him, mirroring his pain. He let out a deep breath and placed one foot on the bench balancing on his other leg; and had both arms resting on his thigh with hands hanging over the edge. He looked at each man.
"Okay, first, I spoke with Klink." Hogan turned to LeBeau. "He has given me permission to hold the Shiva beginning immediately. Kinch…" he again looked at his second. "Except for roll call, an emergency with the men, or an urgent mission from London, everything else will be handled by you as the Acting Senior POW."
"Don't worry, sir," Kinch replied. "We'll take care of everything. Oh, and Colonel, Captain Robertson is waiting for you in your quarters."
"Thanks." Hogan's eyes shifted to LeBeau. "Louie, don't prepare anything special. Just your usual fare."
"Oui, mon Colonel. Leave it to me." He frowned a bit. "Klink is running low on things in his private stash however. I may have to improvise."
"Whatever," was all Hogan said with a shrug of his shoulders.
Carter appeared puzzled. "Colonel, I thought people of the Jewish faith were prohibited from eating certain foods."
LeBeau tapped Carter's arm. "Given our circumstances, we sometimes have to make allowances. There are no special meals to be prepared like with other Jewish holidays and celebrations; we will partake of the normal meals. We believe life comes first, and the laws of religion come second."
Carter smiled and nodded, understanding finally. "That's a nice belief to have," he added. He noticed the Frenchman's eyes brighten a bit and smile at him.
Hogan forced a smile to his face for a few seconds. "I need to go back to my quarters and speak with Captain Robertson, then lie down for awhile and be alone. If anybody wants to see me, you guys can handle it."
Still lying on his bunk with an arm under his head, Hogan fingered his Star-of-David pendant that his father had given him for his thirteenth birthday. His father had been a good, decent, hard working man to whom he would always be grateful to for making him the man he had become. Remembering the day he found out about his father's death left him feeling worse than he did after the underground's radio message regarding Aleit and the other members of Carl's team. The pain was just as bad. But with the help of his friends, both Jewish and non-Jewish, he survived his pain then and worked through the grief. In fact, a concerned Frenchman had come into his quarters to check on him not too long after Kinch had left and just sat with him to keep him company, not saying much, but allowing Hogan to talk, mindful not to divert or limit the conversation, but to just let him talk while he himself listened. LeBeau knew better than most, how important this part of the mourning period was. But when Hogan began blaming himself for the recent deaths, the Frenchman felt he had to intercede:
"Mon Colonel, please do not beat yourself up for what happened to Aleit and the others. You are not to blame. There was nothing you could have done. Aleit and the others knew the risks of working in the underground. You must keep that in mind. But tell me, Colonel, if your father was here right now, what would he say to you?"
Hogan exhaled through his nose. "After looking at everything, he would say that I made the only decision I could at the time, and that sometimes things go wrong over which I have no control. But as long as I considered all my options, I cannot doubt myself or my decision."
"And he would be right. He was a smart man, your father. Perhaps you should listen to his advice," the Frenchman added quietly.
And he would this time despite the remaining pain in his heart over the hundreds of thousands of unknown people he could not help. That pain would never go away no matter what he did, said, or believed. But he would learn to live with knowing there were some things he could do nothing about. And Hogan knew something else as he continued fingering his pendant.
The deaths of Aleit Banta, the three underground operatives and his father were all memories best buried for now.
The End
**Information about the Shiva was courtesy of snooky9093, Jennaya and Judaism 101.
(1) It is more preferable to recite the Kaddish(mourner's prayer)in front of a minyan which consists of 10 adult Jewish men over the age of thirteen. But it is possible for Hogan to be able to say the Kaddish alone in extreme extenuating circumstances. Info courtesy of Mitchell Bard, Executive Director of American-Israeli Cooperative Enterprise. And a BIG thank you to fellow-writers Snooky9093, Jennaya, and Snooky9093's father who has been a spiritual leader and who also drew on his experiences as a member of the Royal Navy during WW2.
**Coming soon is a companion piece to this story entitled Like Father, Like Son.**