Not Everything is Solely About You

“If you ever tell anyone about this, I will find out…and then I shall kill you, very slowly and very painfully.”

Klink shivered when the menacing reminder from the previous evening replayed itself in his head. With Major Hochstetter on furlough for a week, one of his underlings – an Oberstrumfüher by the name of Nachtnebel – had been placed in command of the local Gestapo/SS headquarters in Hammelburg. The man had clearly been listening to Hochstetter’s wild tales about Hogan being Papa Bear, because he’d been trying to get a confession ever since he’d been placed in charge. The problem was, it wasn’t Hogan he’d been asking to give it! Klink didn’t consider himself a brave man anymore, but he’d flat-out refused to allow anyone to harass his prisoners. He had a responsibility to protect them from all harm.

Given his position as Kommandant of Stalag 13, he couldn’t just disappear. It would raise too many questions if he were to suddenly go missing. Unfortunately, that meant he’d had to report each night for the past three days, then be subject to things he didn’t even want to think about. It was either that or be reported as a traitor to the Führer himself. Frankly, this was the better option. At least he stood a chance of living if he could hold out until Hochstetter returned. The major had a terrible temper, but he still followed regulations for the most part. Klink preferred to deal with the devil he knew rather than the one he didn’t.

“Good morning, Colonel Klink!”

The all-too-familiar voice shook Klink out of his thoughts. Colonel Hogan had walked into his office without knocking, same as he always did. That habit of his bothered Klink, but he could never quite summon the energy to mention it.

“Hallo, Hogan,” he sighed, returning the American’s sloppy salute with one of his own. “What do you want now? I am very busy today!”

“You’re always busy,” Hogan remarked. He plopped himself down in the visitor’s chair, casually tossing his worn crush cap over Klink’s WW1 helmet. “Feels like I rarely see you anymore.”

“What on earth are you blathering about? I see you every day,” Klink told him in an annoyed tone. “Far too often for my liking, actually.”

“Aw, that hurts, sir. Gets me right here,” the colonel replied, tapping his chest. “I’m concerned about you working so much, that’s all. It’s not healthy.”

“Your sudden concern for my welfare is touching,” Klink said sarcastically. He sat down his pen, already knowing full well he wasn’t going to get anything else done until he got rid of his Senior POW Officer. Experience had taught him that much. “Whatever ridiculous thing it is you want, request denied.”

Hogan widened his eyes in faux surprise. “Request? You think I’d dare to ask you, the Iron Eagle himself, for anything? No siree, I know better than that. You’d never budge an inch anyways!”

“Then what in blazes are you doing here?!?” Klink exclaimed in frustration. He normally had more patience for Hogan’s games, but not today. He was tired, sore and worse of all, he had to go back to Gestapo Headquarters again tonight. “Either spit it out or get out!”

“Temper, temper. Don’t wanna raise your blood pressure,” Hogan cautioned. “I just came by to have a friendly chat. Surely you can make some time for that, can’t you?”

Klink furrowed his eyebrows together. “A friendly chat?”

“Mm-hmm,” Hogan replied. He leaned forward, a knowing expression on his face. “Tell me about her, Kommandant.”

“What?” Klink blinked owlishly. Once again, his counterpart had lost him...something that happened more often than he cared to admit. “Who are you talking about?”

“The lady you’ve been sneaking out to see each night, you sly dog. I like blondes and brunettes equally, but I know how you Germans are about ‘Aryan’ women. Blue eyes, large breasts, the whole nine yards.” Hogan grinned as he made air quotes with his fingers. “So, is she stacked? Got long gams, a shapely bottom, what? I wanna hear all the details.”

“Hogan, I have not been going out on dates each night.”

“You don’t have to play dumb with me, sir,” he cajoled. “The Hofbrau got a new waitress who couldn’t resist that Prussian charm of yours, right? You know how the ladies are when it comes to pilots –”

Klink stood, slamming his hand down on his desk. The sharp sound cut the American officer off in mid-sentence. “Enough of your rambling! I said I was not going out on dates and I meant it. I…oh, I don’t have to explain myself to you anyhow. You’re my prisoner, not the other way around!”

“Excuuuse me for assuming somebody finally found you attractive,” Hogan said sarcastically. “My mistake.”

He fell silent when the phone rang, shaking his head when Klink forgot to say the standard greeting. How the man had become a full colonel was beyond him. Maybe it was his ability to suck up to people – that was always helpful to a point. Hogan’s radar began pinging after Klink went pale. Whoever was on the other end of the phone clearly frightened him, because his hand was shaking as he scrawled an address down on a piece of paper.

“Yes sir, Oberstrumfüher Nachtnebel.(1) I have been there before, so I shall not forget. I…what? Oh yes, yes, heil Hitler.” Klink placed the phone back in its cradle, then took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He let out a yelp after he looked up to find Hogan inches from his face. “What the bloody– er, what exactly are you doing here?”

“I…never left?” Hogan put on his best innocent expression, feigning ignorance. “Don’t know what you said in German, though. I only know important words like ‘Fräulein’ and pick up lines.”

Klink rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.”

“Hey, a fella should always be prepared. Never know when a beautiful lady might come to visit our little country club,” the American quipped. “Who was that, anyhow? Hochstetter harassing you again?”

“If only,” Klink muttered.“That would be a welcome relief right about now.”

Hogan cocked his head to the side. “Beg your pardon?”

“Never mind, Hogan. You are dismissed,” Klink said. “Get out and go do…whatever it is prisoners of war do.”

“You mean like plan a mass escape?” Hogan asked with a grin. “Because I can do that.”

“No! No escapes,” Klink replied firmly. “Not now, not ever. Stalag 13 is –”

“– the toughest POW camp in all of Germany,” Hogan finished. He squinted, swinging his arm like Klink always did. “Mmmpf!”

“Out, out, out!”

(1) Nachtnebel translates to “Night fog”. The reference to the “Nacht Und Nebel” directive issued by Hitler on December 7th, 1941 is intentional.