A New Job - Pt 2 (Explicit)

[Staf. F. von Waffenschmidt]

Franz ran a hand through his hair. "I go where London tells me too, first of all. And they needed someone on the inside, someone considered far more... reliable? I think? than the bastard son of a whore and a colonel who tried to jump off a bridge in Paris. As for the mass murder... Darling, they don't consider the people they are killing human. They think... they think they're doing the right thing. I don't understand it myself and I've listened to the meetings. I even swore a blood oath, though I'm already going to hell if you're Christian."

Franz shook his head. "I don't know why. But I do know that my fellow spy - Toby - had been trying to have five hundred men who were in danger of being destroyed moved to safety. It would have blown his operation, but he had worked with many of them and loved one of them. London refused. Those documents I gave you were everything he gathered before he sucked a bullet from his Luger. London does not want to know what the SS is doing. Perhaps they still believe in blood libel or they think every dead Russian soldier is one they won't have to fight. Simply put, London knows what is going on, but they do not care. As for the SS proper, the majority of them are rabid animals."

Then Franz winced as he looked through another pile of papers. "Darling, I have a contact coming in under pretext of delivering a prisoner. Neither one of them know about our situation and I don't want to tell them about it. Before you tear London a new one, might I suggest that you don't? We can't change this and trust me I have tried."

[Col. R. Hogan]

"I figured as much. You're nowhere cruel enough to willingly join the SS," Robert growled. "Goddamnit, I swear I'm gonna give London a piece of my mind after the war! The Russians are on our side now! Even if they weren't, these are people we're talking about here! People, Franz! Not wild animals! I just wanna...I...ARGH!"

He kept petting the big dog while he tried to calm himself down. Beowulf, for his part, seemed to understand Robert needed him. The dog whined and licked his hand. Robert gave him a few scratches behind the ears, trying to let go of his rage. How anyone could be so cruel was beyond him. This took evil to a whole new level. He stayed silent for several minutes, trying to get his anger under control.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to snap at you. It isn't your fault these...atrocities are being committed," Robert said. "For the record, I'm Catholic, not Christian. Comes with being Irish. Same with attending Mass at fuck o'clock in the morning."

He let out a breath of air through his nose. "Moving on. I agree we shouldn't tell anyone, but...this prisoner that's coming. Is he staying or just passing through? Do you know anything else about him?"

[Staf. F. von Waffenschmidt]

"Call it what it is," Franz said, "and that's a genocide with complicity on both sides. As for my comrade with his partner, they need out of Germany. I heard that Papa Bear specializes in these kinds of endeavors. Is that true?"

He hoped it was. He disliked Mannheim - the man was a drunk with a taste for danger - but it was time to get him and his annoying Scotsman out of Germany. How he was going to do that, he didn't know. But a good plan with be to give Mannheim and McLean the papers and let them make their run. Toby was dead - he wouldn't care how those papers got out of Germany. Franz just wanted to honor his friend's legacy. He bit his bottom lip as he worked. A car came up the driveway and one of the guards ran in to notify that there was a Wehrmacht Captain with a prisoner shouting insults at everyone.

Franz grimaced. "And that would be Hauptmann Kurt Mannheim and his trusty, half drunken fool of a Scotsman Callum McLean. I don't know his rank and I don't like him. Would you do the honors, Robert?"

[Col. R. Hogan]

"Yeah, it's true. My men will get both of them on the escape route ASAP," Robert replied. He sighed. "If a courier plane wasn’t already coming tonight to drop off supplies and grab the papers, I'd send them out with these two clowns. Less risk that way. But you know how London is about people changing their minds - it's fine for them and nobody else."

He pinched the bridge of his nose after the guard delivered the news. Peachy...McLean hadn't even been here for five minutes and he was already starting shit. Goddammit, this was not the way to fly under the radar! The colonel shoved his chair back as he got to his feet. Some of his body aches started to return now that his rage had faded. He ignored them, choosing to make his way outside with dignity instead.

It didn't take long to see Hauptmann Mannheim with his prisoner. The red-haired second lieutenant in question was busy screaming insults at everyone, no matter if they were a guard or a prisoner. Robert pressed his lips together in a thin line. McLean was about to find out what happened when you irriated an already pissed off colonel. He strode towards the man, fire flashing in his dark eyes.

"LIEUTENANT! SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE I SHUT IT FOR YOU!" Robert yelled. His booming voice had gotten the desired results, although everyone was now looking at him instead. "Stand at attention while you give me your name, but don't do anything else until I tell you to, including talking! The only thing I'd better hear out of you afterwards is 'Yes sir, Colonel Hogan'. Do you understand me, soldier?!?"

Robert was normally an easy-going type of officer. He did know how to be a hard-ass when it was warranted, though. And right now it was definitely warranted. The last thing he needed was for anyone to cause problems at Stalag 13. He tapped his foot impatiently as he glared at the lieutenant. Between standing up completely straight, having his arms folded across his chest and the fury this idiot's antics had reignited, the colonel knew he looked downright scary. Authority oozed from every pore, showing everyone around who was in charge of every prisoner here. There were times a man had to pull rank, and this was one of them.

[Staf. F. von Waffenschmidt]

McLean went very pale under his tan and just barely resisted darting behind a wide eyed Mannheim. Both men had clearly been through some kind of firefight - Mannheim had a bandaged arm and McLean's uniform was torn - but neither man wanted to find out what happened when Hogan was REALLY pissed. Even Mannheim snapped to attention.

"Y-yes sir, Colonel Hogan!" McLean squeaked. He shifted on his feet some and tried not to cower too much. Sometimes, the enemy wasn't as scary as the Allies were. This was one of those times.

"Sir." Mannheim approached the porch and gave Hogan a wide berth. "I would like to request permission to rest here overnight with my prisoner."

This was the same act they had been pulling for nearly six months now. Mannheim was truly a Wehrmacht deserter who had pulled McLean from his burning fighter. Neither man was spy material - they were too flashy and undisciplined - but they had sown discord and chaos amongst the enemy. Franz supposed that counted for something. He nodded for the guards to take McLean to a holding cell and invited Mannheim inside. There was going to be an investigation, of course, especially when it was discovered that the two men had vanished. Franz was good at lying, though.

Mannheim took the offered drink as soon as he could. "I thought we were goners for sure yesterday. There's a new Gestapo man in town. His name's Feldkampf and he is murder. Literally."

[Col. R. Hogan]

Robert was still seething as he silently followed McLean and his escort to the cooler. Part of him felt bad for scaring Langenscheidt twice today. The young corporal was a decent man - despite the uniform he wore - but he was far too thin. Robert aimed to change that. He stepped inside the cooler with McLean before addressing Langenscheidt.

"Go ahead and lock me in with him, then go find LeBeau. Tell him I said to give you a proper meal," Robert directed. "You can come back in about an hour - that should give me enough time to talk to the lieutenant here. A lieutenant who, if he doesn't give me the answers I want, might be getting demoted pretty damned quickly."

McLean shivered at the clear threat in those words. Either he'd pissed this man off more than he thought or the colonel was naturally scary. He didn't know which option was worse. Frankly, he didn’t want to find out. Instead, he opted to keep his mouth shut, observing the conversation between Hogan and the Luftwaffe guard outside the cell door.

"Alright. I do hope you feel better soon," Langenscheidt replied. He exchanged salutes with the American. "You...you won't hurt him, will you? Oberst von Waffenschmidt will be most unhappy if you do. I do not think he will enjoy filling out incident reports any more than Kommandant Klink does!"

"Let me put it to you this way, Langenscheidt...if I end up killing him, I'll fill out the paperwork myself," Robert quipped. "Now go."

"Jawohl, Colonel Hogan."

If? Yeah, that didn't sound too promising. McLean dearly wished Langenscheidt had stayed. Even having an enemy around would be better than being alone with this man. He backed up as Hogan whirled on his heel and stalked toward him. The American still looked furious. When his back hit the wall, panic zinged through his body. It was all he could do to stay at attention versus hunching in on himself.

"I oughta bust your ass to back down to private on principle! An officer who can't follow orders has no business being one," Robert growled. He came to a stop and glared. "I ordered you to give me your name earlier, Lieutenant. Was that too complicated for you to understand or what?"

"N-no, sir," he stammered. He fell silent, wondering if he was actually about to die right now.

"Well?" the colonel demanded. "I'm at the end of my patience here! Tell me what I want to know, or so help me -"

"McLean, Callum, serial number O517501, sir!" He pressed himself again the wall, hoping against hope it would somehow absorb him.

"Better. Now we're getting somewhere," Robert snapped. He let out a steamy breath of air through his nose. "What in the sound hell were you thinking earlier? Huh? Coming in here, insulting my men, insulting the guards -"

"They're just krauts!"

"No, they're not. They're Germans, McLean, " he replied. "At Stalag 13, we only use that word for the Nazis. Not a single one of those men have joined the Party. But if you interrupt me again, I will personally shove both sets of those butter bars up your ass. Got that?" He got in the Scotsman's face. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"Y-y-yes!" McLean's eyes were wide as saucers. "Yes, Colonel Hogan, I understand! I won't interrupt you anymore!"

"For your sake, I sure hope not. I'm having a bad day already and you aren't improving it any. Last thing I need is to have some idiot who's still wet behind the ears making waves among my men with his bullshit," Robert said. He stayed silent for a few minutes, trying to get a grip on his temper. When he next spoke, his voice was a lot calmer. "At ease, McLean. Go sit your ass on that cot and tell me what happened to you. I want names, places...all the details."

[Staf. F. von Waffenschmidt]

McLean shivered as he thought. "We... we got jumped. Sir. There was someone we were supposed to be working with who turned out to be a kr - a Nazi. His name's Erik von Heidenburg, by the way. In case you have any dealings with him. Anyways, he met us at the spot and ten goons jumped out. Me and Mannheim took a run for it. He's... well, he's brave enough to pull you out of a burning fighter, but he's not brave enough to make a fight. We both got shot, by the way. Me in the leg and him in the arm. And we lost all the papers."

He took a breath. "The Laurel and Hardy bit? That's just an act. He distracts the guards and commandants, while I go searching through papers and safes. You would be surprised the information commandants have access too. We had some good stuff - battle plans for Normandy and Jersey - but that got lost in the chaos. I hope the papers fell in the river, because it had another agent - Cathedral's, by the way - name on them. His real name. Not his code name. It's J... something. I don't read so good in code, but I know the goons will. Sir."

McLean hoped this would get him off the hook. It had been a harrowing series of days. His own leg throbbed and he knew Mannheim was holding on by gripping his jaw so tightly his teeth cracked in one spot. He just wanted to sleep, but he sat on the cot and pulled up his pants leg. Someone had crudely bandaged it, but the formerly white linen was stained with blood. McLean winced every time his leg touched the ground. He ached like a son of a bitch.

Franz heard the same news from an exhausted Mannheim and went running to find Robert. He knew Cathedral. They needed to move fast.

[Col. R. Hogan]

“No, can’t say that I do. But thanks for the warning,” Robert replied. He put a fist under his chin. “Cathedral...I’ve heard that name before. Never met them, though.”

He needed to get out of here so he could go to Franz and give a report. The shit was about to hit the fan if they didn’t find those papers. It was bad enough an agent could be compromised under their code name; having their real one compromised was nothing short of a death sentence. Unfortunately, the hour wasn’t up yet, so there was nothing to do but wait. Robert had thought this story would take longer to tell than it had. He sat down on the bed next to McLean, sighing as the man shied away from him.

“Easy, Lieutenant. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said. “I’m pretty laid back as a rule. You just caught me on a bad day, that’s all. A very, very, very bad day. But you can’t be doing stupid shit like what you pulled earlier if you wanna survive. The goal is to blend in, not stand out. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good," the colonel replied. “Now, let me see your leg.”

McLean silently obeyed, debating if he wanted to say anything else or not. “That guard…he seemed like a decent sort. Was concerned about you and everything.”

“Langenscheidt? Yeah, he’s a good man,” Robert said. “Way too nice to be dragged into this crazy war at all. Him and Schultz – he’s the big guy that was keeping my men from beating you up – are basically puppies. They probably hate ol’ scramble brains more than we do and that’s saying something.” He frowned. “Wilson needs to patch you up better before you can go anywhere. Same for goes for your captain. There’s no way you two can get out of Germany like this.”

“Get out of Germany?” the lieutenant repeated. “What are you talking about, Colonel?”

Robert stared at him. “You’re kidding, right? Mannheim didn’t tell you why you’re here?”

McLean shook his head. “No sir. I thought we were just doing the same thing we’ve been doing for the last six months.”

“Swell. Apparently, this is not my day,” he muttered. He dragged a hand down his face. “Damn it! How could things possibly get any worse?”

[Staf. F. von Waffenschmidt]

Franz didn't bother with formalities. He burst into the cooler, made sure the other guards weren't there to discover them, and grabbed the bars of the cell. He hated seeing his lover in a cage, but they had no choice. It took him a minute to gather his voice. They had a problem. Two problems, actually. The first was getting Mannheim and McLean out of the country. The other was tracking down Cathedral. Franz prayed that the man hadn't been found yet. Cathedral was a smart man, of course, but he wasn't perfect.

"We need to talk," Franz said. "We've had a breach. Cathedral's probably been found out. I can make a few calls, see if I can dig up some information. I have a few friends in high places."

Well, he shouldn't have called them friends - he blackmailed two of them, really - but Robert didn't need to know this. He needed to think that his lover was a good, honorable man. He opened the cell and grimaced when he saw that bad leg. McLean needed a hospital, but he didn't think he could bring the man to one without raising suspicion. The new Gestapo agent wasn't going to like him. This was also not the way to introduce himself. Franz bit his bottom lip as he knelt beside McLesan. This kid was in bad shape.

"So I take it you heard about Cathedral?" Franz casually asked.

[Col. R. Hogan]

“I did. Don’t know who he really is, but that part isn’t important right now,” Robert said. He jerked his head at the lieutenant. “McLean never got the memo about why he and Mannheim are here. I was about to fill him in when you showed up.”

He lightly rested one hand on top of Franz’s. If they had been alone, he would have kissed his lover. But with a witness around, this was the only way he could think of offer some comfort. He didn’t need word that he liked men getting back to London. The brass would not be as accepting about his preferences as his men were.

McLean’s jaw dropped. Why was Hogan fraternizing with the enemy? Surely it was some sort of ploy. If the man – von Waffenschmidt, as he recalled – were in the Luftwaffe or the Heer…maybe. There were still decent men in those branches. But the SS? Not so much. There was no way he was a spy.

“Colonel Hogan,” he began, “if this kraut –”

“Keep talking like that and I might decide to kill you after all, McLean. You will address Colonel von Waffenschmidt with respect at all times!” Robert snarled through clenched teeth. He growled low in his throat and gave the man a hard stare. “If you think I’m kidding about that, I’m not. I have zero qualms about shoving my hand up your ass and making you into a puppet if you keep pissing me off. Is. That. Understood?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Good. You’d better not forget it either,” he growled. He backed off and turned to Franz, who was smirking. “Any chance you, me and the lieutenant – who still might become a private if he doesn’t mind his p’s and q’s – can go back to your quarters to talk? Then Mannheim can fill him in instead while you and I talk. Besides, it’s even colder in here than outside. I really thought ‘cooler’ was just a name, not a description!”

[Staf. F. von Waffenschmidt]

"That leg doesn't look good," Franz said. "I think he's been walking on it against orders. We'll have to get that patched up before he leaves Germany."

He unlocked the cell door with the master key and slipped inside. McLean was a small weight in his arms - clearly, he had been living rough - and he struggled for a few minutes until he accepted his new place. Franz understood that this had to be confusing. The stain of his being SS was going to linger after the war - that was why he would have to leave Germany for England after this was all done with. That said, he carried the younger man back to his private quarters and sat him down on the couch. He wasn't quite sure what they would do now. This was going to be a hard one.

Mannheim sat down slowly and winced. "So you can get us out of Germany? I don't see how. If this were near the coast, I might believe you, but this is so far inland..."

He trailed off and looked down. Truth be told, Captain Hans Mannheim was not a brave man. He didn't like to fight. He didn't even like guns. If there was a way for him to run away from a fight, he would do it. He stood up quickly and sat beside McLean, taking his hand where he thought the others couldn't see. It wouldn't do to have them be turned away now. He wanted to hold McLean close, but now wasn't the time. McLean would have to suffer just as he did. The thing was, though, that saving McLean's life was one of the few heroic things he had ever done.

"We can get you out of Germany," Franz said. "If you give us information on where you lost the papers."

[Col. R. Hogan]

"That's the most important part. If we don't recover them, the Gestapo will," Robert added. "We - Colonel von Waffenschmidt and I, that is - don't need to give whatever asshole ends up replacing Major Hochstetter a reason to come here. Armed lunatics mixing with helpless prisoners of war is a bad idea all the way around. And if they know what you two look like, there's an excellent chance you'll both be shot on sight. Or worse, hauled off for 'interrogation' at Gestapo Headquarters."

He walked over to stand by Franz. It was an odd feeling playing the bad cop, but he could do it if he had to. He just wasn't used to doing so. The colonel's body ached all over. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to eat breakfast before everything happened. Now, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Preferably naked, lying in his lover's arms while the man whispered sweet things to him in German. But he couldn’t do that because he still had a war to fight.

"Do you remember where you two were when the papers were lost, Captain Mannheim?" Robert questioned. "A town name, landmarks, etcetera? Maybe any unusual buildings? I'd rather not try to find a needle in a haystack while racing against the clock if it can be avoided."

[Staf. F. von Waffenschmidt]

Mannheim nodded and downed the rest of his drink. "We were around Hammelburg, I think. It was one of the more popular meeting spots and that should have been my first clue we were going to get jumped. Near the river. There's a thicket near the west bank that's very hard to see from the bridge and the road. One way in and one way out. I do pity the Gestapo grunts that had to crawl through that mess - it couldn't be fun."

Franz nodded. He knew that place. He had met people there himself more than once. And then, as he thought about that, he swore under his breath. There was a chance this Erik had seen his face. Franz's leg bounced as he mentally ran through his list of contacts. He had known all of them, save three, for years. Of those three, one of them was already dead. That just left Phoenix - unlikely, Phoenix was a woman - and someone he only knew from voice. Bridger was a complete unknown to him. And, now that Franz was thinking about it, he had never exactly trusted that man.

"I think I know our spy," Franz said. "He goes by Bridger, doesn't he?"

McLean started. "Yes, he does. How did you know?"

"Because we've spoken on the phone," Franz said. "Gentlemen, my code name is Raven."

[Col. R. Hogan]

"If the Gestapo are getting wise to our meeting spots, we need to start using different ones effectively immediately. That's a huge security risk," Robert said. "I don't like it and I'm pretty sure the locals won't either. Too many people operate in or around Hammelburg for us to be drawing attention to that town. Last thing we need around here is a Gestapo crackdown."

He cursed under his breath. Bridger was a name he knew all too well. He and his team had done business with the man before, although Robert had always gone by himself. Bridger knew his face and his voice. He was supposed to come by Stalag 13 later on today - disguised as a Gestapo officer - to drop off important papers. If that kraut spotted him here, he'd be on the wrong end of a firing squad in the very near future. 

The colonel cursed again as he fought his panic. Calm. He had to stay calm, both for the sake of his men and for Franz. The plan he currently had was, at best, terrible. But it would have to do. This was war - people died all the time. 

"My code name is Papa Bear," he added. "Now I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Bridger is supposed to be coming here today. He's due in about," Robert glanced at his watch, "an hour. Said it'll be under the usual prisoner inspection guise the Gestapo have been doing in all of the POW camps lately. Thing is, I think he knows exactly who I am. I know he's seen my face and heard my voice. And if he sees me here, everyone in this camp will be at risk. That's something I can't allow."

He looked at his lover. "Colonel von Waffenschmidt, I propose we let Bridger find me away from Stalag 13. Alone. If he's not the spy, he'll bring me back after roughing me up a bit. If he is, well...you'll know when he brings you my dogtags instead. Either way, nobody is at risk of getting hurt but me."

[Staf. F. von Waffenschmidt]

"Oh hell no!" Franz shook his head. "You are not going to kill yourself! We'll hide you, leave you in the cooler. If you look away from the wall and I say you have the flu..."

It would have to work. Franz gritted his teeth. This was almost as hard as keeping his men alive in Russia. He didn't know how he was going to do it. Bridger couldn't be a fool - he wasn't a double agent if he couldn't keep his head down and play it smart. That meant they were going to have to be clever in order to get around him. Franz hoped they could do it. They needed to get a sort of theater going if they were going to get everyone through it. Then the man's eyes widened as he realized something. He could get everyone through. They were just going to have to be damn good actors.

"Robert, take McLean and Mannheim into the tunnels. I'm going to need your clothes. Newkirk - that's his name, correct? - is going to play act as you, whilst I give our Gestapo friend the run around. He doesn't know that I'm Resistance," Franz said, "so he'll think that I am on his side. What do you say?"

His heart hammered in his chest. They had one chance to make this work and he hoped he could pull it off.

[Col. R. Hogan]

"If you're talking about the snarky Englishman in Barracks 2, then yes," Robert answered. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I really don't like it, Franz. I've got a bad feeling about this whole thing. Then again, we don't have much choice. I'll fill Newkirk in after I get these guys settled in the tunnels - he knows where I keep my stuff at." Robert walked toward the hidden entrance under the stove. "Oh, and if you see Schultz, you might want to tell them Newkirk has your permission to pretend to be me. Much as I like the big guy, he's not the sharpest tool in the shed."

Mannheim gasped when the hidden entrance was revealed. "What the hell is that, Colonel?"

"It's our downstairs apartment. Prime real estate, cheap rent, earthy feel...what's not to love?" he quipped. He motioned for the pair to follow him. "Our medic can tend to you guys' injuries while you're waiting for the heat to die down. Wilson might have a shitty bedside manner, but he's good at what he does."

"Sounds like a great idea to me," Mannheim agreed. "Come along, Callum."

"Not a problem."

The colonel waited for the pair go down the ladder before starting to climb down himself. Then he stopped. He looked at Franz, noting how tense he was. There was a possibility he'd never this man again if things went sideways. He blew his lover a kiss and tried to smile.

"Good luck," he said softly. "May God - or whoever you believe in - be with you."

Robert finished pulling the stove entrance closed and descended the ladder. It was angonizingly slow going with McLean's wounded leg, enough where what should have been a 10 minute walk took 40 minutes. He got them settled on some cots and went to find Wilson. His mind was second-guessing his agreement to the plan while he walked. As much as he liked Newkirk, the Brit couldn't do an American accent worth a damn. Carter didn't have that issue, but he was just a kid, barely older than Langenscheidt. He wouldn't ask his technical sergeant to play him either. If Bridger's true motive was to kill him, he didn't want Carter to get hurt. That meant the colonel had to do this himself. Better him than Franz, who was a spy and had an in with the Nazis. 

He sighed. Assuming he survived this little encounter, the blond German was probably going to be furious with him. But it couldn't be helped. He supposed there was a slim chance he might earn himself a second spanking, although he doubted it. Surely Franz was too soft-hearted to do that to him. The colonel recognized these thoughts for what they were - defiance for the sole sake of being defiant. He didn't care, though. The reckless part of him that reveled in breaking the rules had come out to play. 

It wasn’t long before he climbed the ladder up into Barracks 2. He filled Wilson in on their guests' condition, then sent the sergeant to go patch them up. A pleased smirk crossed Robert's face as he told Newkirk his actual plan. Once he grabbed a gun, he descended the ladder and headed for the tree stump. He climbed up and out of the tunnels before running for the forest, ignoring his protesting injuries.

Robert mentally cursed. In his haste to leave, he'd forgotten to tell Newkirk not to say anything to Franz. Damn. Well, maybe his lover wouldn’t know about the one spot where a person could clearly see the road without being seen was, especially since he was still new to this area. One could only hope. The colonel soon reached said spot and silently waited, his dark eyes constantly scanning his surroundings. Once Bridger showed up, he could kill the man and return to Stalag 13. 

[Staf. F. von Waffenschmidt]

Franz waited until Newkirk came back from the barracks. His heart raced in his chest. He had no idea of Robert had actually done what he wanted or not, but he could only pray that he had. The name of the game was misdirection. Bridger would be looking for an American. What he would get was an Englishman and a soldier sick with the flu. Franz paced in his office. He hoped Robert wasn't going to do something stupid. If that man did... Well, Franz didn't know what he would do. He paced in the little room and gripped his pistol.

Franz jerked his head up as soon as Newkirk entered the office. "Please tell me that he actually did what I said."

Newkirk winced. "Well... I don't know if I can tell you that in good faith, sir. Because I'm bit quite sure what your plan was, but he went to go take out Bridger himself. And might I say that I like that idea better than me playing dress up? I could get shot for this!"

"He's going to get himself killed," Franz whispered. "Or I'm going to kill him."

Franz forced himself to calm down. He had to keep his head on his shoulders. If he lost his mind.. well, this was going to be bad. He glanced out the window and prayed that Bridger was going to find another road to camp. Franz had no idea where Robert was or he would have mobilized every guard in camp to bring Robert back. Then Franz was going to give that American a piece of his mind. How he was going to do it, he didn't know. But he would and it would be glorious. Franz pushed Newkirk out the door and prayed that everything would go at least a little to plan.

Deep in the forest, on the road from Hammelburg, a small convoy wound its way through the narrow, rutted road. It was headed for Stalag 13 and carried nearly a hundred soldiers.

[Col. R. Hogan]

Robert swore under his breath when he saw the group. He didn't know why they were headed this way, but he was betting it had something to do with Bridger. The road came to a dead end at the camp - a convoy had absolutely no reason to be on it. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't take out that many people on his own. He had to warn Franz. Unfortunately, there was no way he could move quickly and still stay silent. The crunching of dead leaves and twigs snapping would give his position away. 

The colonel took a few seconds to ensure he was facing the right direction before turning and sprinting back through the forest. He heard someone yelling orders to shoot in German, followed by the sound of gunfire. He winced. If these krauts didn't kill him, Franz just might. There was an excellent chance he'd have his hide throughly tanned for this boneheaded stunt and it would be his own damned fault. Robert supposed it was a good thing his ass wasn't what was hurting him...for the moment, anyhow. That was subject to change.

His side was burning as he reached the hollow tree stump. He fumbled with the latch for a second, finally managing to get it open as the gunfire got closer. Robert barely slipped inside the tunnel and pulled the lid closed before he heard two German voices in the clearing. His heart was pounding like crazy while he listened to hear if they'd seen the entrance or not. He slowly exhaled after they walked away, thankful they hadn't seen him. That had been way too close.

A few minutes later, he slid the stove aside and poked his head out. There was no sign of his lover anywhere. The colonel sighed and pulled it back into place, then headed for Barracks 2. His side was still burning from his mad dash through the forest. In retrospect, going out alone had been a stupid idea. He had nearly gotten himself killed to play hero. If nothing else, he fully expected to get an earful about that. He climbed the ladder and looked out at his barracks.

"Newkirk, go warn von Waffenschmidt there's a small convoy headed this way. About 100 men or so. Nearly made me into Swiss cheese too, but I was faster than them and didn't get hit," Robert said. He gave the Englishman his usual cocky grin. "If he needs me, I'll be in our spare room in the tunnels. I'm gonna take a nap. This much excitement in the morning really wears a fella out!"

[Staf. F. von Waffenschmidt]

Bridger stormed into camp about ten minutes later. He was an older man, with severe features and a pronounced limp, and he wore his Gestapo uniform like a second skin. A sneer lingered on his thin lips as he surveyed the camp. It was clear he wanted nothing to do with those he considered beneath him and his fingers beat a tattoo against his thigh as he waited. None of Franz's men dared to do anything. Even the prisoners gave him a wide berth. Bridger's pale green eyes were wild in some strange way and he grabbed Franz by the collar as soon as he was on the porch.

"You," Bridger growled, "are a traitor."

Franz delicately pushed the man away. "I do as I am told, Herr Major. And this is the post that I am to be given. Who am I to argue with a superior officer? Besides, spending too long in the East isn't good for anyone."

"That may be so," Bridger said, "but we need men of your... talents fighting in the war, not coddling a batch of prisoners!"

Franz let the insult slide right off of him. "Why did you come here?" he asked. "This is a prisoner of war camp and, as we both know, we don't like each other very much."

"It's also the one camp where we don't have any escapes," Bridger said. A sneer stretched across his face. "And we have an Underground spy to house here until he can have his fair trial, followed by his execution. Guards! Bring Cathedral to the cooler!"

[Col. R. Hogan]

Robert stretched out on the bunk and closed his eyes. Part of him wondered if Franz would decide to spank him every time he did something stupid after all. His lover had been opposed to the idea this morning, but that had been before he'd nearly gotten himself killed for nothing. This incident might change things. If it did, well...he would take his punishment like a man. He wasn't going to let himself shed so much as one tear. The spanking he already had coming probably wouldn't hurt too much anyways. Franz had said he didn't like the idea of hitting bare skin, and a hand couldn't hurt too much over clothes. It'd be easy to tough out. He was just overthinking the situation.

Still, that didn't change the fact that the many successes he'd had as Papa Bear were making him too cocky. They caused him to do foolish things. He needed to nip that in the bud if he wanted to live through this war. Maybe, just maybe, Franz might be willing to help him out. The blond German certainly seemed to care for him enough. 'Wait, what am I saying? Do I want Franz to wallop me?' Robert asked himself. The answer to that was both yes and no. He scrubbed at his face, trying to chase away his confusion.

"Ugh," he groaned. "How do I get myself into these situations?"

"You are a man of many talents, mon Colonel," LeBeau remarked as he walked into the room. "And you're needed at the tunnel entrance to the cooler, by the way. Some Bosche major dragged in an Underground spy by the name of Cathedral."

"Cathedral?!?" Robert's eyes flew open at the name. He sat bolt upright on the bunk and stared at the Frenchman. "Is it anybody we know?"

"I couldn't see from the angle he was at, sir."

"Great," he grumbled. "Alright, thanks LeBeau. I'll go check on him right now."

The colonel stood and stretched. He made his way to the cooler, wishing he'd gotten to nap for a little while first. He was still tired. However, he was curious to know who Cathedral was. And at least the krauts had saved them the trouble of tracking this man down. That was a plus in his book. Once he pushed open the tunnel entrance and got his answer, he face-palmed.

"Oh, you gotta be shittin' me! You're Cathedral?!?" He asked incredulously. He sighed. "This better not be a new trend for SS men. Also, if you throw any more grenades at me, I can and will punch you."