Disclaimer: Hogan and his heroes as well as Sam and his friends all have one thing in common: none of them belong to me. And, as that is the case, I make no money from this publication. Thank you.
Chapter 4: Two's Company and Why We're Here
Al was a proud man; he did not apologize to just anyone - which was why he
was surprised to find himself outside the Waiting Room planning on doing just that.
To a stranger no less. To a stranger who might deserve more than a little anger
. . .
It wasn't fair, he knew intellectually, to blame a single person for the kind
of madness that had happened in
But Al was an emotional man. No matter what one thought about the Nazis and
their tactics, emotions were high when the subject was just discussed. Now
there was one in the Waiting Room. About the only thing Al was thankful for was
that no one beyond Verbena, Gooshie, Sam and himself knew this fact - who knew
what could happen otherwise? He knew that there were some, even here at the
project, who would do worse than he had. Much worse.
Looking down at the control pad on the side of the door, Al took a moment to
decide whether or not to do what he had come down here for. It would be very
easy to turn around and wait in the Control Room until Ziggy came up with
something for him to tell Sam. It also would be cowardly and irresponsible and,
while Al had been accused of the latter many times, no one had ever called him
a coward.
Even so, Al could not deny the sense of relief he felt when the Handlink chose that moment to beep. Digging the device out of his front pocket, he scanned it's surface. Relief faded away as he read the screen again, just to make certain that he hadn't misread it. The words remained unchanged.
Suddenly, the whole visitor problem had become very unimportant. As quickly as he could, Al made his way to the Imaging Chamber. He finally knew the reason for Sam's leap and now time was of the essence!
***
After Al had left, Wilhelm had started to feel drained by the whole experience. He had tried to sleep then, having nothing else to do, but sleep wouldn't come. Things were finally sorting themselves out in his mind and he was confident that he'd remembered almost everything that was his to remember. He even had most of those other memories sorted out as well, at least, he could no longer confuse them with his own. This was one reason that he could not find sleep - his mind was too full.
His stomach growled and reminded him of the other reason that he could not sleep - his mind have been full, but his belly wasn't. It felt like he had been here for hours now and he wondered if his captors planned on feeding him any time soon.
Of course, he wasn't only interested in food. He also would welcome some company. Truth be told, he was lonely and more than a little scared - who wouldn't be in his position? Something had happened to his body and to his mind and no one seemed willing to give him any answers. It was enough to drive him to distraction!
All of this taken into consideration, Wilhelm decided that he was holding up pretty well. At least, he hadn't gone into a shock induced stupor or the like. He had seen such things happen before. When he had fought in the Great War, he had seen more men lose themselves than he had ever imagined possible and he never wanted to know what that was like.
At any rate, he would have given anything, not that he had anything to give, to have someone to talk to. Anyone. Even Al who had looked like he'd wanted to punch him would have been appreciated - hostile company was better than none at all by this point.
As in answer to his want, the hidden door opened and in stepped a young woman whose name he didn't know. Her expression seemed unnaturally blank, as if she was trying to hide something. In her hands, she held a tray and, while he couldn't quite identify the contents, it smelled like something edible.
It looked like things were turning around. "Hello, I don't think we've met. My name is Wilhelm, what is yours?" There was a bit of embarrassment that he was rambling, but he was just so happy not to be alone anymore.
She handed him the tray without saying a word, her eyes showing the briefest flash of disgust. Obviously, she wasn't going to bother even pretending to be polite.
Well, he had been brought up better than that and he had no intention of abandoning his manners just because she had hers. "Thank you."
She half nodded as she stepped back. Then she turned as if she was going to leave before turning back, her expression unreadable but no longer blank. She cocked her head, watching him intently, and made no move to leave.
Wilhelm bit back a sigh and tried to ignore her. He looked down at the tray. While he knew that Americans weren't known for treating their POWs badly, he got the feeling that he wasn't actually a POW here. If that was the case, well, who knew what could happen to him here? Still, he was hungry. Tentatively, he ate, still not quite certain what he was eating but not finding it disagreeable. He just hoped that the meal wasn't poisoned or something equally unpleasant.
Looking up from the tray, he saw that the woman hadn't moved and she was still watching him. Her scrutiny made him uncomfortable and more than a little irritated as did her new expression. She was staring at him as if he was some kind of freak: mostly disgust mixed with a little awe, a pinch of anger and just a hint of pity - all in all, it did nothing to improve his rapidly souring mood.
Deciding that he had just as much right to look at her as she did to look at him, he stared back. She was tallish, with long blonde hair pulled tight to her scalp in a pony tail and blue eyes set in her young looking face*. No more than twenty five or so, if that. She also wore a lab coat similar to the one that Verbena had worn.
He couldn't place what exactly she should be doing, but he figured that, whatever she did, it couldn't involve serving meals. While his borrowed memories objected strenuously to making judgments about this woman based solely on her looks (she had said nothing so he had nothing else to go on), he decided that she looked too smart for the chore. She looked like she could be a nurse or maybe even a doctor like Verbena - from what he could remember, lady doctors were uncommon but the other memories told him that this wasn't so.
He handed the tray back to her. "Thank you."
She took it and, again, said nothing. This did not bother him. What did was the fact that she continued to stand there and stare.
It was the last straw. Finally pushed to the end of his admittedly limited patience, he snapped, "And what, precisely, do you find so fascinating about me that you feel you have to keep watching me?"
She blinked, as if startled by his outburst and turned away, but not fast enough for Wilhelm to miss her tear bright eyes. "I just wanted . . . I don't know what I wanted." She turned back, her teary eyes set in a hate-filled glare. "I just wanted to see what one of you monsters was like." Then she wiped at her face and ran from the room.
Wilhelm watched the door shut behind her and rubbed his face. He wasn't the smartest person in the world - he could admit that to himself without shame - but he could add two and two and get four at the end. In this case, the first two was that Al had left in such a huff after Wilhelm had said that he was a Nazi. The second two was that the rude young woman had said she wanted to see what one of the "monsters" was like. So, the four was . . . Well, he wasn't quite sure what the four was.
He got the feeling that it wasn't just some very good Allied propaganda causing their hostility. But what else could it be?
He had some idea. He knew that the polices that the Fuhrer had made concerning the Jews bordered on the completely paranoid. He also knew that the Gestapo were not very nice people - an understatement of the case as he knew from experience. Then there were those disturbing rumors he'd heard -
Which he couldn't let himself think too deeply about. Not if he wanted to stay sane; not if he wanted to stay safe. Talking openly about such things was dangerous even if they weren't true and Wilhelm was almost grateful that he had no close friends to talk openly about these things to. Close friends could also be dangerous; he had learned that the hard way.
In any event. He had a duty to his country and he wasn't about to shirk it because of a few unfounded, if unsettling, rumors.
In an effort to take his mind off suddenly uncomfortable thoughts, Wilhelm
began thinking of some questions to ask the next time someone came to visit
him. He had been kept in the dark for too long already. It was high time that
he got some answers.
****
Sam was also searching for some answers. Branching out of the office, he had
found what looked like personal quarters and it had seemed like a good
opportunity to find out more about his host - maybe, if he knew more about
Wilhelm Klink, he'd be able to pull the part off more gracefully. Bad enough
that one person already thought something was wrong with him; Sam didn't want
that number to go up.
Unfortunately, his search had not been very successful. All he knew for certain was that Klink had a lot of Wagner records; he hadn't gotten passed the first chapter of Mein Kamph - at least, none of the pages passed it had been dog-eared -; he probably played a violin and probably chess as well; and he also enjoyed his cigars and alcohol. But there weren't any journals or letters or anything that held a personal touch.
At length, Sam left the quarters and went back to the office where he sat behind the desk. He closed his eyes and sighed in frustration. "What kind of man doesn't have any personal papers?"
"The kind that doesn't want anyone to know what he's thinking."
Sam looked up, pleasantly surprised that Al had come back so soon. "You think so?"
Al shrugged. "Either that or he's got the personality of a bowl of oatmeal." He took a cigar out of his pocket and bit off the end. "Either way, I think keeping a low profile is still your best bet."
"Maybe." Sam waited a moment to give Al the chance to say why he'd come. He didn't take it. "So, what do you have for me? Did Ziggy figure out why I'm here?"
"Ziggy won't tell us how you got here, if that's what you mean. I bet she just doesn't want to admit that she has no idea - that's what you get for building a computer with Barbara Streisand's ego." Al laughed his false laugh and chewed on his cigar.
Sam felt his eyes narrow. "That's not what I mean. I meant: 'what am I here for?'. What am I supposed to do here?"
The other man stared back at him with sad eyes. "In three days, there's going to be an accident."
"I see." When no further explanation seemed forthcoming, Sam prompted, "What kind of accident?"
"Well, the records aren't very good for this period, so we don't know what actually happened."
"What do you know?" Sam asked, beginning to get frustrated with his friend. Why could Al never just say what Sam was there for? Was it too much to ask that he just relay the information without being so melodramatic?
Al sighed. "You're not going to like this, Sam."
"I already don't like it, Al." and I like it less because you keep hedging like this, Sam finished silently. He knew that whenever he was in mortal danger, Al would get this way. And here he'd been hoping that this leap would be simple!
Taking out the Handlink, Al pressed some buttons. "In three days time, there's going to be an accident and Colonel Klink dies. According to Ziggy, there's an 87% chance that you're here to make sure that doesn't happen."
Sam had expected this shoe to drop but it didn't make it any better now that it had. Didn't he have enough problems on this leap without the possibility of death added to them? "Why did I leap in to save a Nazi? What else happens?"
"The details as sketchy. Ziggy can't interface too well with foreign computers."
Sam nodded, more to keep Al talking rather than to agree with what he said.
"As far as we can tell, after Colonel Klink's death, there's a big investigation." He shrugged, "I guess they thought the POWs were responsible because the Gestapo thoroughly checked the barracks. From what we can get from the Pentagon - "
"What does the Pentagon have to do with some POW camp?" interrupted Sam.
Al didn't say anything for a moment as he scanned the data on the Handlink. "During the war, the Pentagon and a few other military organizations in Europe came together and formed an underground network in Germany. According to what Ziggy was able to pry from those computers, Stalag 13 was one of the main bases for this underground."
"All right. So, Stalag 13 is a base for the German underground. For some reason, Colonel Klink doesn't seem to be aware of the base's existence or he is pretending not to be. Then he's killed in some sort of accident. What happens after that?"
"Well," Al started, sounding annoyed (probably because he had been interrupted), "when the Gestapo search the barracks, they find a network of tunnels, radio equipment and even some people hidden away. The next day, several POWs, including a few members of the underground are shot for trying to escape." The tone in his voice made it clear to Sam that Al didn't believe that they were shot for trying to escape any more than he did.
"What about General Metziger? Did you find anything about him?"
Al shook his head. "Nadda. According to Ziggy, General Metziger doesn't exist - there's some Colonels and some Privates with that name, but no Generals."
"No Generals? Well, Al, I guess we have a problem then because General Metziger's supposed to be coming here!"
"I don't know about that. All I know is that Ziggy couldn't find anything. Who knows? Maybe this Metziger's records were lost or destroyed."
Sam shook his head. "I don't think so, Al. It's too much of a coincidence: someone who doesn't exist is paying Colonel Klink a visit and then Colonel Klink dies in some kind of accident?"
Al nodded. "Yeah, it does seem a bit too convenient. But why?"
Sam shrugged. "Maybe Colonel Klink knows more than he should or maybe killing him gives them an excuse to do some searching. It could even be some kind of personal vendetta. I want you and Ziggy to get on it, Al. Give me something I can work with."
"I'll see what I can do."
Sam watched Al leave and stared at the spot where the Imaging Chamber door had disappeared. Now he knew why he was here but he didn't know yet what he could do about it. In any case, there was a lot to think about and, quite possibly, not very long to do it.
* I've changed the description of this person because I've read offical sources that have her actual description.