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 6: Two Sessions for Half the Price
Dr. Verbena Beeks made it to the visitor’s room just in time to see a
lab coated figure dash out of it. She had a good idea who the figure had been
and she could feel a sigh coming on; as if she didn’t have enough
problems to deal with. Such as how it had been learned who the visitor was and
what would become of that information in the very likely event that it became
common knowledge. She wondered what the project’s creditors would think
if they knew there was a Nazi in the Waiting Room.
She shook her head. She certainly didn’t plan on treating him differently
because he was a Nazi. At least, she thought, he’s not in charge of a
concentration camp - Verbena wasn’t sure where her cool professionalism
would have been then. But, as it stood, she was in charge of the mental health
of the visitor, be it an abused housewife or a Nazi soldier, and she planned on
doing nothing more or less than her job.
And, in this case, her job was to make certain that Colonel Wilhelm Klink would
not be any worse for wear from this experience . . . assuming that he
remembered any of it.
The first thing Verbena noticed about the Colonel after she entered the room
was how quiet he was. Sitting on the cot, he bore the look of a man who was
weighing his options carefully. He sighed, obviously noticing her presence but
he didn’t seem inclined to actually look in her direction. “So, you
finally made it back. How wonderfully nice of you.”
He sounded very bitter but she figured that he was probably entitled to some.
First Al sniping at him and then whatever Ms. Labcoat had done. And she
decided, with a faint touch of guilt, that she could have tried harder to get
back here sooner. “How are you feeling?”
Now he did look at her, his face full of frustration. “How am I supposed
to feel? I’ve been taken prisoner. I’ve been interrogated and
gawked at.” He stood and glared at her. “I am also tired of not
getting any answers to my questions. I think I have been very patient so far
and I think that I am entitled to some kind of explanation about all of
this.”
How many times have I heard this? “What do you want to know?” she
asked, knowing full well as she did that there was much she couldn’t tell
him. In the off chance that he did remember any of this, the possible damage to
the timeline could be devastating.
And she seriously doubted that he’d believe the truth if she did tell
him.
The Colonel looked surprised, as if he had expected more of a fight about this.
Her acquiescence seemed to throw his rhythm off. “Well, I . . .” He
swallowed. “I would like to know why I’m here.”
Almost every visitor they had asked this question and she still hadn’t
come up with a simple answer that could satisfy their curiosity. She was honest
by nature and lying was one of those things that didn’t come easily to
her. But she had to tell the man something . . .
“You can’t tell me, can you?” The Colonel sounded tired.
Obviously, she’d been taking longer with her internal debate than she had
thought. At least this question was one she could answer completely honestly.
“No.”
He nodded to himself as if she had confirmed something that he’d already
known. “You probably can’t tell me where I am or how I got
here.”
It wasn’t truly a question but she answered it anyway. “No.”
“Then what can you tell me?” He asked, his tone becoming sharp.
“I can tell you that you’re safe and that nothing bad will happen
to you while you’re here.” She had tried to look and sound as sincere
as possible but it was clear from his expression that he wasn’t very
comforted.
The Colonel closed his eyes as if making a difficult decision. “Do you
think you could help me understand something then?”
“Maybe,” she said, not wanting to commit herself to anything.
“Maybe you can help me understand why two of the three people who have
come in here have as if I was the Devil himself. Why that young woman who was
just here wanted to see what one of the “monsters” was like or why
Al looked like he was going to punch me. Do you think you can tell me
that?” Not waiting for an answer, he looked away from her and started to
pace. “Because I don’t understand. I’ve tried to be a good
office and a gentleman. I do what I can for my country.”
Abruptly, he slowed his pace and his voice softened. “To be honest, I am
not very popular at home. I am not always good with people but at least there,
people talked to me for awhile before deciding they didn’t like me. Maybe
you can tell me why Al and that woman made up their minds so quickly.”
The way he said this made Verbena think that he probably already knew the
answer. “It’s not you, Colonel. It’s what you stand
for.”
He stopped and stared at her. “What I stand for?”
She nodded. “For them, you are a Nazi first and a person after.”
The Colonel didn’t seem surprised. “I had already figured as much;
I just wanted to have it confirmed. So it is because they believe that
I’m a Nazi.”
Believe? Verbena felt her brow crinkle in confusion. “I thought that you
said that you -“
Waving his hand, he cut her off. “I’ve only remembered recently
that I’m not officially with the party.” He shrugged. “It
just never seemed to be that important and I doubt that the knowledge would
change Al’s or that young woman’s opinion of me.” Now he
frowned. “I realize that they would have little reason to love the Nazis
- sometimes I feel little reason to love the Nazis - but I do not understand
what you’ve heard to make you hate us all so much. It is like Nazi is
another word for evil to you.”
Verbena tried to hide her shock but she was certain that she’d failed.
Was it really possible? Did this man have no idea what the Nazis were doing in
1943? How naive could he be? To be fair, it wasn’t as if the Nazis had
advertized the Death Camps but the public view on Jews and everyone else who
would join in their fate had been painfully clear. It was inconceivable to her
that he shouldn’t have so much as an inkling of an idea about the truth.
Of course, maybe he did know about it and didn’t consider it evil. That
was certainly possible - there had to have been some people who thought that
they were doing what was best for Germany; people who enjoyed their work. The
Colonel didn’t seem like an evil man but Verbena knew better than to be
fooled by appearances . . . Even the most brutal killers could seem genial and
trustworthy.
And even if he wasn’t some amoral killer and even if he honestly
didn’t know what the Nazi higher ups were up to, how much could she tell
him? For that matter, how much did she want to tell him? She had seen people
who tried to take responsibility for things beyond their control, things that
no one person could have prevented. The Holocaust was a great evil to be atoned
for and the last thing she needed was a suicidal visitor who wanted to take it
all on himself.
Did she really want to take that sort of chance with the visitor’s
psychological welfare? But it seemed as though, thanks to certain people who
couldn’t control certain reactions, the visitor’s psyche was
already taking a hit. This was the sort of thing that could cause problems down
the road even if he never remembered it consciously.
“I’m afraid that I can’t tell you all the answers but
it’s important for you to remember that it isn’t about you
personally.” He didn’t seem very comforted so she compromised.
“They do have reasons for hating the Nazis but I can’t talk to you
about it unless you discover it for yourself.”
“I guess I will have to accept that.” Then the Colonel smiled
tiredly. “I suppose that it would do no good to ask you about these
memories I have.”
“Memories?” Remembering even as she asked what he was talking
about. How had she forgotten?
“The ones that aren’t mine. The ones that tell me that your name is
Dr. Verbena Beeks - those memories.” He sounded agitated. “I think
I’ve gotten them sorted out from mine but I don’t understand how I
have them or - ” Breaking off, he sighed. “I must sound
crazy.”
This was not good. There was no way Verbena could explain this in any way that
would make sense to the Colonel and keep secret those things that needed to be
kept secret. She had been so surprised before when this man had known her name,
that she hadn’t given the matter much practical thought. The visitor
having so much of Sam’s mind was unusual - usually, if there was some
residue of Sam in a visitor, she noticed it, not the visitor.
“You’re not crazy, Colonel,” she assured him. “It is
merely a side affect of the process that brought you here.”
He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Is this process also responsible for
before when I could not remember anything? Will these memories go away?”
“Yes and yes. As I told you before, no harm will come to you.” She
smiled. “You probably won’t even remember any of this when you get
home.”
This news made only made his agitation worse. “If I won’t remember,
why can’t you just tell me?”
Verbena sighed and looked him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Colonel but
I’m not allowed to tell you these things. It is a matter of security and
I’ve probably told you too much already.”
After a long moment, he looked away from her. “So you can’t
actually answer any of my questions?”
She nodded, seeing no point in denying it.
Plopping himself back down on the cot, he made an obvious effort ro rein his
frustration. “Is there any chance you could give me something to do then?
A book? Some cards? Something?” He looked up at her, hopefully. “I
seem to recall playing a violin.”
She laughed. “I don’t know about the violin, Colonel, but I’m
sure we can find something for you.” Honestly, she was happy that the
interrogation was over and that the man was open to doing something to take his
mind off his troubles. And his questions.
Most visitors, after getting over their initial fears of imprisonment, death or
alien abduction, would complain of being bored. She’d found quickly that
having something to keep them busy made them more comfortable. Anything she
gave this visitor would have to be screened for copyright date and content -
it’d be a little harder than usual due to the age of the materials needed
but it would not be impossible.
It would just take some time.
“I’ll have some things sent down in a little while.” She
looked down at her watched, realizing that more time had passed then
she’d thought. “I would stay longer, Colonel, but - ”
“Please,” he said mildly, “call me, Wilhelm.”
It seemed that she’d gained some of his trust after all. “All
right. I would stay longer, Wilhelm, but there is something that I need to take
care of.”
His smile looked a little forced but it was a smile all the same. “Go
ahead. Leave me. Just remember to come back.”
“I will,” Verbena promised.
With that she walked out the door, now in search of that lab coated figure. She
had an idea who it had been and where she could be found.
***
Sammy Jo Fuller felt stupid. It was not a sensation that she was very familiar
with or liked very much and, right now, she felt very stupid. What did she
think she was going to accomplish by going in there? What had she expected to
see, anyway?”
All she had seen was an understandably irritated man and all that she had
accomplish was to completely embarrass herself. Her face still felt hot as she
ran into the break room.
The break room was empty. It seemed to Sammy a clear indication that there
really was a God. She hastily grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and
wiped desperately at her eyes. Someone could come in at any second and she
didn’t want anyone to ask her why she was crying.
Why was she crying? She honestly couldn’t figure out why this whole thing
was bothering her so much. It wasn’t as if she was Jewish or that she
knew anyone who was directly involved in the Holocaust. It just didn’t
make any sense to her.
But here she was, hiding out in the break room, drying her eyes and praying
fervently to whatever God that would listen that no one would come in until she
had a chance to calm down and clean herself.
However, it didn’t appear that any gods were interested in answering this
prayer. The door opened and, when Dr. Beeks walked into the room, Sammy knew
that any hope of pretending that this entire mess had never happened was
futile. Still, she slapped on what she hoped was a convincing smile and tried
her best to sound casual.
“Hi, Dr. Beeks. Wh-What brings you here?”
Dr. Beeks looked at her calculatingly, clearly not buying this act for a
moment. “I think you know, Sammy Jo.”
Sammy let the smile slip; she had known that she wasn’t a good enough
actor to fool the psychologist, but she’d still been hoping that she
could.
Dr. Beeks sat down and motioned that she should join her. “What
happened?”
After taking a seat, Sammy stared down at the floor, unable to look the other
woman in he eyes. “I’ve just made a fool of myself - that’s
all.” When she was greeted with silence, she continued, knowing hat Dr.
Beeks was owed a better answer. “I went to see the visitor. I know that I
shouldn’t have,” she said quickly to forestall any criticism of
that action, “but when I found out what the visitor was . . . I
couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see.”
“What did you want to see?”
Sammy gently tore at the tear stained tissue in her hands. “I wanted to
see what made this guy good enough for Dr. Beckett to risk his life for. I
mean, he’s a Nazi - one of those psychos you always hear about on the
History Channel. Why should he be saved?”
Almost forgetting that she had an audience, she thought aloud. “I felt
bad thinking that way. I’m not God; I can’t just arbitrarily decide
who lives and who dies. So, I went down there to justify myself.” She
trailed off as she noticed her hands were empty. Looking down, she saw tiny
scraps of tissue littering the floor around her feet.
Dr. Beeks took her silence to mean that she was finished. “Did you
justify your feelings?”
Sammy only shook her head.
“What did you see?”
A sigh escaped her. “Nothing. He was just some guy.”
“Were you expecting to feel some evil waves or see a horn or
something?” Dr. Beeks’ sarcastic words were softened by her gentle
tone.
As ridiculous as the question sounded, Sammy had to admit that she had been
expecting something like that. That was one of the reasons she felt so stupid
now. She told the psychologist as much and was relieved to hear Dr. Beeks
chuckle in response.
“If only it was that easy, Sammy.” Then her expression became
serious. “But it never is. It’s not only the Nazis or the Ku Klux
Klan who use subjective reasons like race or skin tone or where they’re
from to decide people’s worth. Many people have made that same
mistake.”
Sammy opened her mouth not sure whether she was going to defend herself or apologize
but Dr. Beeks shook her head. “I won’t say that you’ve jumped
to an unreasonable conclusion based on what you knew about the visitor.
However, I will suggest that you did not know everything needed to know when
you made it.”
“What else do I need to know?”
Dr. Beeks smiled mysteriously. “That is something you have to find
yourself. I think I know where you could find that answer.”
Sammy knew what Dr. Beeks was saying but the thought of going back there and
humiliating herself again . . . “You’d let me back in there? After
what I did?” This surprised her because what she’d meant to say
was: ‘There’s no way I’m going back to that place!’
“It is against policy,” Dr. Beeks said with a frown, possibly
thinking about the merits of her advice based on that fact. “But seeing
as you’ve already broken the rules once, I doubt that doing it again
would do any harm. You would have to promise me that you wouldn’t tell
him anything but other than that . . .”
“I wouldn’t tell him anything but I don’t know if I want to
go there,” Sammy said honestly. “I’ll think about it,
though,” she added, sensing that this was what Dr. Beeks wanted to hear.
Dr. Beeks laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “That’s all I
ask.”