The Mystery of The Love-Struck Corporal

a sequel to

No Silent Night

1.

Laying Out The Pieces

One problem was solved: the emergency tunnel was cleared and the sand disposed of. It had taken some conviction to make Klink believe that building sand-castles was the traditional way of celebrating New Year´s Eve in the ever sunny Florida, but in the end the Kommandant had bought it, and even agreed to order a truckload of sand to be delivered in the middle of the compound.

That the amount of sand had steadily increased in the days following was something the Germans naturally had been oblivious of.

By the time the prisoners had shiveringly finished their castles, the emergency tunnel had been cleared and properly propped, ready for use again. Klink had announced the winner of the sand-castle contest, most of the sand had been taken away again, and that was that. Problem solved.

But there was another one. Another problem.

And in some respects a more pressing problem. A problem that had come up during their mission in town, when they went around caroling on Christmas Eve. A mission that most certainly would have ended in complete disaster, and probably in the uncovering of their entire organization by the Gestapo, had it not been for... Corporal Langenscheidt.

Langenscheidt.

Corporal Langenscheidt, of all people!

So far, Hogan had regarded Langenscheidt as a shy, rather clumsy young man. Not particularly bright, and if it wasn´t for the war, he would probably have regarded him as a nice kid.

Actually, Langenscheidt often reminded him of his own man Carter. The same clumsiness, the same innocence, the same apparent stupidity...

Hey, wait a sec, Carter wasn´t exactly stupid! He looked stupid, yes. He could act stupid, definitely. But he was inventive and creative, and full of ideas. And the fact that some jokes were lost on him and that he couldn´t always quite follow Hogan´s schemes was something he – Hogan – tended to contribute to Carter´s lack of deviousness: he was simply too innocent for devious schemes. In a way, a kid like Carter didn´t belong in an ugly war like this one. But that didn´t mean he was stupid...

So if – against all appearances – Carter was not stupid... then perhaps Langenscheidt wasn´t as stupid as he appeared to be either?

It was certainly a possibility.

So... was Karl Langenscheidt really just a clumsy love-struck corporal?

Or was there more to this guy than meets the eye, and had he perhaps deliberately saved that microfilm out of Hochstetter´s hands?

It seemed preposterous... ridiculous even to assume such swift thinking and acting in the shy and clumsy corporal he thought he knew.

But if this was the case, it also meant that Langenscheidt had known about the microfilm. Or at the very least suspected that this piece of "special candy" had better not fall into the hands of the Gestapo.

This left him with two options. Either Corporal Langenscheidt was involved in the underground himself, or he suspected that his lady-love Little Red Ridinghood was, so he had with great masculine chivalry embezzled the incriminating "special candy" to save her from the wrath of the Gestapo. Which meant if the guy had any brains, he would have figured out by now that the Senior POW of their camp was involved in the underground as well.

And that was a situation Hogan did not particularly like. Especially the not-knowing part.

"Right," Hogan sighed as he stood and started pacing his quarters. "Let´s look at this rationally. What do we know?"

Four paces forth.

"One: no matter how timidly, it was Langenscheidt who defied Hochstetter, providing me with an opening to push through this last concert."

Four paces back.

"Two: he names the exact address where we have to pick up the film as the address where he´d like to go caroling for his lady-love."

Four paces forth.

"Three: the fact that he is in love with our underground contact is interesting enough in itself."

Four paces back.

"Four: when Ridinghood throws down the special candy to me, it´s a little off course. But when Hochstetter prevents Carter from catching it, all of a sudden both Carter and Hochstetter are on the ground, with Langenscheidt on top of them."

Four paces forth.

"And the microfilm-candy has disappeared."

Four paces back.

"Five: Langenscheidt must have gotten hold of the special candy in that flurry, because Newkirk picks it from his pocket later. Yet Langenscheidt embezzles it, and gives an ordinary candy to Hochstetter."

Four paces forth.

"Which means Langenscheidt either knew or guessed that Hochstetter should better not get his hands on this special candy."

Four paces back.

"Or was it just lover´s jealousy, and did he not want a creep like Hochstetter to have the honour of receiving the special candy from the girl he admires?"

Four paces forth.

"Six: when we are handing in our candy, the silent exchange of greetings between Langenscheidt and Little Red Ridinghood makes it clear that they are indeed acquainted."

Four paces back.

"Seven: after that greeting, Little Red Ridinghood no longer anxiously watches Hochstetter collecting all the candy. Instead, she retreats inside and closes the window."

He stood still in front of his closet and snapped his fingers. "Which means she felt secure that the microfilm had fallen into the right hands. And those hands were Langenscheidt´s!"

He wasn´t quite sure of what she expected Langenscheidt to do with it – perhaps make sure it ended up in Hogan´s possession after all? But at least there could be little doubt about the fact that Langenscheidt indeed had been a conscious tool in Little Red Ridinghood´s hands. She knew it was okay once he had made her understand that he had the precious "candy".

Which meant that Langenscheidt, too, at least had to know something.

So: was the clumsy corporal involved in the underground in some way? On their side?

Hogan didn´t know.

And as I said before: that was something he didn´t like.

So he was determined to find out.

2.

Putting Together The Outer Frame

"Carter." Hogan drew his youngest sergeant aside a little. "I´ve got a special mission for you. I want you to feel out Corporal Langenscheidt."

Carter nodded. "Anything in particular you want to know?"

"Yes. Try and pump him about his connections with Little Red Ridinghood. Don´t mention her codename of course, but I want to know how close they are."

"Little Red Ridinghood? That was the pretty girl from the microfilm, right?"

"Yes. One of our underground contacts. And also the girl Langenscheidt pointed out as the one he is in love with. I want to find out how much he knows about her underground activities."

"Sure." Carter turned to go and search for Langenscheidt, but Hogan grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Just be careful, okay? I don´t want him to get suspicious."

"No worries, boy. Eh... sir." An embarrassed grin, and Carter sauntered off.

Hogan turned to Kinch, who was enjoying a moment of fresh air in the bleak wintersun. "Kinch, what barracks does have Langenscheidt for a barracks´ guard?"

Kinch had a slow smile. "Colonel, sometimes I get the distinct feeling you think of me as a walking encyclopedia."

LeBeau grinned. "That´s because you are, mon ami."

Kinch chuckled. "Barracks 14. Together with Sergeant Schmidt."

Hogan raised his eyebrows. "Two guards for barracks 14? I wasn´t aware that they were such a rowdy bunch?"

"They´re not," was Kinch´s calm answer. "But both Schmidt and Langenscheidt are away on a pass quite often. So I suppose our beloved Kommandant figured it would be practical for them to share the responsibility for one barracks."

"Away on a pass? Where to?"

"I´m sorry, Colonel." Kinch shook his head. "I may be a walking encyclopedia, but I do not have the power of clairvoyance. If I had, I´m pretty sure I wouldn´t be here."

Hogan grinned. "You´re so right. But thanks anyway, Kinch." And off he went himself in search of Captain Mitchell, the barracks´ leader for barracks 14.

"Now why would Langenscheidt go out on a pass so often?" he wondered as he let his eyes wander over the men in the compound. "And how come I never noticed that?"

Okay, up till now he hadn´t noticed anything out of the ordinary with Langenscheidt. He was just one of the guards. Apart from... yes, apart from the fact that he was so young. What could he be: twenty-five, thirty maybe? Definitely not much older than thirty. You´d expect a guy his age to be sent out in combat. Yet he had been a guard at Stalag 13 for nearly as long as he – Hogan – had been there. Indeed, that was rather weird.

He´d have to sneak a look at the guy´s personnel file later on. Surely Newkirk could get his hands on that.

In the meantime he had arrived at barracks 14 and entered – as he did almost anywhere – without knocking.

A small group of prisoners huddled around the table over a game of cards.

"Hi fellows," Hogan greeted them before they could get up. "Is Captain Mitchell in?"

"In the office," one of the men nodded.

Hogan continued towards Mitchell´s office, and after a quick rap on the door he entered the captain´s private quarters.

Captain John Mitchell lay on his bunk reading, but he quickly jumped down and saluted as he noticed his superior entering the room.

Hogan promptly returned the salute. "At ease, Captain. I´ve come for some information."

Mitchell gestured to the chair, and lowered himself on the lower bunk. "What is it you want to know?"

"Is it true that you guys have two barracks´ guards here? Schmidt and Langenscheidt?"

Mitchell nodded. "Yes sir."

"Do you know why? Most barracks merit only one guard."

"They share the job. They both live in Hamelburg, and they are frequently out on a pass: at night when they´re not on duty, on the weekends... And it happens quite often that we don´t see Langenscheidt for a couple of weeks. Which means Schmidt can hardly go home to see his family during those weeks."

Hogan nodded. "It´s Langenscheidt I´m most interested in at the moment. Do you happen to know where he goes when he´s away for... weeks, you say?!"

Mitchell shook his head. "Not a clue. He´s not the most talkative of the two. And his English is rather poor."

"Okay, just tell me everything you know about him. Friends, relatives...?"

"Well, I don´t think he´s married," Mitchell started pensively. "I don´t think he´s ever mentioned a wife or kids. But I do recall him mentioning relatives in town. An uncle or something. And friends... I´m not sure, but I don´t think he has any real friends among the guards. He´s a bit of a loner: not antagonizing anybody, but not much into making friends either. I remember Schmidt teasing him about his abhorrence of the camp´s non-com club. Come to think of it..." Mitchell fell silent for a moment.

"What?" Hogan prompted him.

Mitchell looked up. "The men Langenscheidt does try to be friends with – in his own timid way – are the gentler, the friendlier prisoners of this barracks."

Hogan nodded. "That´s interesting. Careful fraternization, you mean?"

"Sort of." Mitchell chuckled. "The fact of the matter is that Langenscheidt is plain scared of the prisoners. It´s written all over his face, every time he enters the barracks. That expression of ´oh my, what are they going to do to me this time?´ I always imagine him standing outside our door gulping for a few minutes to gather the courage to face us."

Hogan chuckled, too. That fitted in with the picture of Langenscheidt he used to have. But now... "Any particular reason for that?"

"There are a few guys in this barracks who like to bully him around a bit. In a way, by befriending the gentler ones among the men, I think Langenscheidt may be seeking their protection from the bullies. After all, it would be awkward for him to really ask for support from the people he is supposed to hold prisoner. And he wouldn´t dare to take on those bullies all by himself, I suppose."

"And what´s he like as a person? As your barracks´ guard, you must know him pretty well."

Again the chuckle. "A scared little rabbit. Really," he continued when Hogan silently exploded with laughter, "that kid doesn´t belong in a war. He´s just playing soldier because he has to. He gives me the impression of a simple country-boy being drafted into hell. Just acting along in the hope to save his skin."

Hogan nodded. Mitchell´s view coincided with his own comparison of Langenscheidt and Carter. "What about his intelligence; is he smart?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, I think. He comes across rather stupid, but that may be due to his poor language skills. Still, he can´t be that stupid: he loves jigsaw-puzzles (1), and the more pieces, the better."

"Right." Hogan stood. "Thanks for the information, Mitchell."

Mitchell got up as well. "What is this all about, if I may ask?"

Hogan heaved a sigh. "I don´t know. Langenscheidt has been acting a little strange lately. Actually saved one of our missions single-handedly. What I want to know now is whether he helped us deliberately, or whether it was nothing but an accident."

"I see." Mitchell cocked his head. "Well, I can tell you one more thing. Two, actually. Corporal Langenscheidt hates the war. And he is no nazi."

"Thanks." Hogan grimaced. "But that goes for most of the guards here, I believe." He thought for a moment. "You don´t happen to know why he´s stationed here, do you? Instead of at the front."

Mitchell shook his head. "Not the foggiest. As I said, he´s not the most talkative fellow."

"Thanks. I´ll see what I can find out from his file then. And er... Mitchell?"

"Yes sir?"

"Forget I ever asked you these questions, okay? Treat Langenscheidt as you always have; I don´t want him to get suspicious. If I do find out something important, I´ll let you know."

(1) See the episode "Klink´s Masterpiece"

3.

The Easy Pieces

"Hiya corporal!"

Langenscheidt started visibly when he was suddenly addressed by one of the prisoners. "Hello, er... sergeant," he replied with a quick glance at Carter´s rank insignia.

"Hey," Carter continued sottovoce, "I´d like to ask you something. Remember that night just before Christmas, when we went caroling in town?"

Langenscheidt eyed him warily. "Yes..."

"That girl you wanted to go and sing for..."

"What about her?" Almost dismissive, though Carter thought he detected a note of fear in the corporal´s voice as well.

"I liked her a lot. What´s her name?" He gave Langenscheidt a comforting smile.

"Ma... Maria," Langenscheidt stammered. "Aber was... what do you want from her?"

"Nothing." Carter leaned against the post. "Gee, corporal, I´m a prisoner here. So you don´t have to worry about me; I can´t even go and court her!"

A puzzled look from Langenscheidt. "... Court her?"

"Yeah, you know: go out on a date, to the movies or something. Buy her flowers and chocolates. But I can´t even write her a loveletter..."

"Ah... yes."

Carter got out a candy-bar and broke it in half. "Would you like some?"

"Danke." For a moment, Langenscheidt fumbled with it, as if he were thinking of putting it away somewhere to save it for later. The lack of a wrap clearly made him decide for the practical.

"As you see, I´m no competition for you there," Carter chatted on. "Mind you, I would be if I were free! I really like her. She´s pretty. And she seems nice, too."

A cautious smile from Langenscheidt. "Yes. She is nice. And pretty."

"So, are you two dating?" And on another puzzled look: "You know, boy-friend and girl-friend?"

Slowly, Langenscheidt shook his head. "No. We are not boy-friend and girl-friend. But I like her very much. And I think she likes me, too."

The poor guy seemed to relax a little, Carter noticed. "So where did you meet her?"

"At the Hofbrau."

Carter grinned. "Figures. I suppose you had a few dances with her."

"No." Langenscheidt´s voice was very quiet, almost – almost! – devoid of emotion. "I just sat there looking at her. Wie schön sie... How beautiful she was. And then she came to me and sat down at the table. Und sie asked meine... my name. And we talked."

Carter stared at him rather apoplectically. "You talked?! That´s all? How did you know where she lives then?"

"From the telephone book."

"Oh! Yeah..."

Carter didn´t quite know what else to say, so he nibbled a bit on his half of the candy-bar for inspiration. And Langenscheidt followed his example.

"So when will you see her again?"

"I don´t know. I shall go to town tomorrow night. Maybe I will see her."

Carter grinned. "Perhaps if you see her, you could tell her that Sergeant Carter says hi?"

A smirk, and off he went, back to the barracks, leaving poor Langenscheidt staring after him with the last bite of the candy-bar halfway his mouth.

♦

"Nothing, Colonel," Carter reported upon Hogan´s return from barracks 14. "They´re not dating or anything. He was just staring at her at the Hofbrau, and when she noticed, she joined him at his table, and all they ever did was talk. She didn´t even give him her address; he got that from the telephone directory. So I don´t think he´s aware of her being in the underground. But I did find out that her name is Maria."

"Well, at least that´s something," Newkirk quipped.

"And Mitchell from barracks 14 couldn´t make me much the wiser either." Hogan sighed. "It just doesn´t make sense! Everything and everyone here in camp seems to prove that he is indeed the shy and clumsy corporal we´ve always seen in him. Yet my gut tells me that his actions that night were deliberate: to save that special candy from Hochstetter, either knowing what it was, or at the very least suspecting something. But that doesn´t fit in with the Langenscheidt everyone seems to know!"

"Perhaps we don´t know him as well as we think we do," Kinch commented quietly.

"Anyway, I got Schultz talking with a few potato-pancakes," LeBeau added. "You know what he´s like when he´s eating. And he told me Klink had indeed ordered him to go caroling with us, but he was free to pick the other guards for accompanying us as he saw fit. So Schultz asked for volunteers among the guards, and Langenscheidt and Mittendorfer were the only ones to announce themselves."

"So he might have volunteered just to make sure that microfilm business was safe," Newkirk concluded.

"Or to get a chance to honour his sweetheart with a serenade," Carter countered.

Hogan groaned. "This is not getting anywhere...! Newkirk," he then turned to the Englishman, "you´re my last hope for today. Can you go and get Langenscheidt´s personnel file from the office for me, please?"

"Sure, no problem, governor. One personnel file, coming up."

Newkirk left, and within ten minutes he was back and pulled the folder from under his sweater. "Here we are, chaps!"

"Great." Hogan took the folder from him, and he was just about to open it when something else opened: the door. Letting in Schultz.

Quickly, Hogan hid the file behind his back. "Hey Schultz, what´s this? Didn´t your parents teach you to knock?"

"Did yours?" Schultz countered.

For a moment, Hogan was taken aback; then he snickered. "As a matter of fact they did. But I keep forgetting."

An innocent grin from Schultz. "Me too." He looked around the group of men. Apparently they were waiting for him to leave again. "Am I interrupting something?"

"You sure are. Now what do you want?"

"Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant wants to see you in his office."

"Fine. I´ll be right over, Schultz."

"Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant wants to see you in his office right now."

"I said I´d be right over, Schultz. Just let me finish this and..."

"Colonel Hogan, I am sorry to remind you, but this is a prison-camp. And you are a prisoner here. And if you don´t do exactly as the Kommandant tells you, the Kommandant can get ver-ry nasty! So please, Colonel Hogan? Just come with me to the Kommandant. You can finish whatever you are doing here later. Can´t you?"

"Well, what does he want?"

"I don´t know. He doesn´t tell me everything, you know."

Hogan sighed. "Allright then." He pushed the folder into Kinch´s hands. "Carry on, guys." And he followed Schultz outside.

"Well, let´s see what we have here." Newkirk expertly filched the folder from Kinch and opened it onto the first page. "Name: Langenscheidt, Karl Johann. Rank: corporal. Born 1914 in Viersen. Where is that?"

"A minor town somewhere west of Düsseldorf, I believe," Kinch answered.

"Ah. Right. Lives in Hamelburg; not married. Contact in case of emergency... ladeedah... ladeedah... Hey, look at this!"

He pointed somewhere down the page, but almost simultanuously Kinch uttered exactly the same phrase, pointing at something else.

"What?" Carter asked.

"It says here he graduated from the gymnasium," Kinch translated for him. "That´s the highest level of secondary education in Germany, with Latin and Greek and all that. That means he can´t be all that stupid."

"Unless they adjusted the levels of education to the Boche´s general low level of intelligence," LeBeau muttered.

"Yeah, but look at this!" Newkirk insisted as he jabbed his finger on the page. "Here it says he is an excellent navigator, a skilled radio operator, and on top of that an expert shot! Now I´m asking you: what is a guy like that doing as a ruddy guard in our little prison-camp?"

4.

Trying To Connect The Clusters

"Anything, guys?" were Hogan´s words when he barged in a little later.

"Nothing that made any sense," Kinch replied as he handed the folder to his CO. "But at least it confirms your gut-feeling there is more to this guy than meets the eye."

Hogan raised his eyebrows. "Well, at least that is something."

He sat down at the table and opened the folder. He went through the pages thoroughly, and nodded appreciatively. "Not a bad record. And not quite in agreement with the Langenscheidt we thought we knew either."

"So what´s a guy like that doing as a guard in a prison-camp?" Newkirk repeated his earlier question. "You´d think they´d send him up as a navigator on every bloody bombing-raid they´d undertake. Or at the very least send him to the front where he can shoot as many of our boys as he possibly can."

"Health problems, Newkirk." Hogan pointed at a long paragraph on the last page of the file. "Regularly suffering from severe asthma attacks. That could be the reason for his frequent absence here, though weeks in a row seems a bit exaggerated for asthma."

"Weeks?!" Carter exclaimed. "You mean he leaves camp for weeks?!"

Hogan nodded. "I never noticed it either, but that´s what Mitchell says. And Langenscheidt is their barracks´ guard, so he should know." He returned his attention to the file in his hands. "It says here he´s been called under arms regularly since August 1939. But he was always rejected as medically unfit, partly because of his asthma, and partly because of a huge open wound at his leg that wouldn´t heal properly."

"So when they ran out of men to draft, they figured this human wreck could at least guard prisoners," LeBeau summarized.

A smirk from Hogan. "Probably, yes. He didn´t get back in the army until 1942; that must have been around the time he came here. But the funny thing is..."

"What?" Carter prompted him inquisitively.

"There is no mention of his asthma from the time of his compulsory military service."

Kinch whistled. "You mean he might be faking it? To stay out of the army? And to stay out of combat when he finally was drafted?"

"Couldn´t he just have caught asthma as a grown-up?" Carter asked.

Kinch shook his head. "Not very likely, as far as I know. My sister has it, too. If you´re born with a tendency for asthma, it usually develops in the first few years. Some people outgrow it again later on. But I don´t think I´ve ever heard of someone getting asthma for the first time as a grown-up."

"Perhaps he had it as a kid then? And then he outgrew it, and then it came back again?" Carter suggested helpfully.

"Yeah. Maybe." Hogan wasn´t convinced. "But there is another funny thing here. According to his record, he pretty much goofed off during most of his first year of compulsory service. He didn´t seem at all interested in the military, and participated as little as he possibly could without becoming the target for severe disciplinary measures."

Newkirk´s face brightened. "Now that´s my kind of guy!"

"Wait till you hear the rest. The second year," Hogan continued, "which must have been shortly after Hitler came to power, all of a sudden he showed a fierce dedication for the theoretical side: navigation, the radio, explosives..."

"Explosives?" Carter echoed.

"Yes. If I have to believe this record, he must be as good a crack at that as you are."

"Wow!" Carter simply beamed. "Now that´s my kind of guy! Who would have thought Langenscheidt was...!"

"Wasn´t there something about him being an expert shot as well?" Newkirk interrupted Carter´s further raptures.

"Yes, he is," came Hogan´s answer. "Champion of his year, in fact."

"So..." Kinch hesitated. "If he got this dedicated shortly after Hitler came to power...?"

"Then he was as much taken in by that pig´s charm as the rest of this country," LeBeau spluttered.

"Or," Hogan emphasized, "or exactly the opposite!"

They all stared at him in bewilderment.

"It´s also possible," Hogan explained, "that he realized what was happening to his country, and decided to use his time in the army to learn as many skills as he possibly could that might come in handy to bring down the Führer one day!"

More incredulous looks. And Newkirk laid his hand on Hogan´s forehead. "I´m afraid the governor is finally gone round the bend now, guys."

But Hogan ducked away from his hand. "Cut it out, Newkirk."

"But how do you figure that?" Carter looked thoroughly puzzled. "If he became a dedicated soldier as soon as Hitler came to power?"

"Easy." Hogan pointed at the file again. "It says here he got promoted to corporal on technical expertise in July 1934. Yet he left the army as soon as his compulsory service was over. Which was only a few weeks later." He looked around at his men. "Now wouldn´t you expect a devoted nazi to stay in the army, to serve his Führer to the best of his abilities? More so since he just got promoted. And besides: you´re all acquainted with the list of the camp-guards who ever were a member of the nazi-party. And Langenscheidt is not on that list."

It was quiet as the men digested his train of thoughts.

"I still think it´s madness," Newkirk said in the end. "But I must admit there seems to be some kind of method in it. Especially if he faked that asthma as well." He scratched his head. "So you think...?"

Hogan heaved a sigh. "I don´t know what to think, Newkirk. Either this guy is pulling everybody´s leg and he is actually involved in the underground. Or he just hates the war and has simply pulled every possible string not to get involved in it." He cringed. "Or anything in between; I don´t know!"

"We could shadow him the next time he goes into town," Kinch suggested. "See where he goes, who he´s meeting..."

"He told me he´d be going into town again tomorrow night," Carter remembered.

"Good. Newkirk, you´ll be going into town tomorrow, too. See if you can get any more information on this Karl Johann Langenscheidt. And make sure you´re at the Hofbrau when he is there."

A cocky salute from Newkirk. "Ay ay, sir! Now if you´re done with it, shall I put that file back where it belongs? Before it´s being missed?"

Hogan waved him away. "Go ahead."

A grin, and with the file safely under his sweater Newkirk sauntered back to Klink´s office. He recognized the Kommandant back at the gate, inspecting the guards. And Hilda had long gone home by now. A piece of cake to slip the file back into the right drawer.

Carefully, Newkirk opened the door to the outer office. He peeked around the door. No one there. Excellent.

In one swift move he was inside and closed the door behind him. And the rest was child´s play of course: he opened the cabinet from where he had taken the file earlier this afternoon, pulled out the upper drawer and...

"Was machen Sie da?"

Newkirk was far too experienced to show how startled he was by the unexpected voice. He simply cast a glance over his shoulder to see who it was that had caught him red-handed.

And he blushed. A fiery red. For under the circumstances it could hardly have been worse...

He had been caught right in the act by the very Corporal Langenscheidt himself. The champion shot and all that.

And here he was – Peter Newkirk – with the guy´s personnel file still in his hands...

5.

The Endless Search For Certain Pieces

"Put that back." Langenscheidt took the rifle from his shoulder and pointed it awkwardly at Newkirk.

Newkirk did as he was told; after all, that was why he had come here in the first place, wasn´t it? To put back the file.

"Turn around."

Again he complied. And for a few moments, the guard and the prisoner stared at one another in deadly silence. And despite the precarious situation, Newkirk couldn´t resist to search the young guard´s face for all those qualities so proudly enumerated in his file.

But none of them were apparent. The rifle wavered in Langenscheidt´s shaky hands, and the young man´s big blue eyes held little determination either. All he detected there was apprehension and poorly masked fear.

"You can not be here. Raus."

Langenscheidt´s trembling voice aroused Newkirk from his thoughts, and he quickly made for the door. "Jawohl, corporal," he mumbled. Heaving a huge sigh of relief as he jumped off the Kommandant´s porch and trotted back to the barracks.

♦

"I don´t get it, colonel. If he´s a champion shot, then why is he trembling like a jelly as soon as he points his rifle at me?"

"Newkirk, being a champion shot doesn´t necessarily mean being a ruthless killer," Kinch pointed out to him.

"Anyway," Hogan concluded, "your adventure confirms what Mitchell told me: that Langenscheidt is scared of the prisoners."

LeBeau chuckled. "He should be. We are in the majority here."

"Yeah, but they have the guns," Carter objected.

"We have guns, too."

"But that doesn´t count," Carter insisted.

"And why not?"

"Because they don´t know that we have guns."

"Then why is he so scared?" LeBeau countered.

A shrug from Carter. "I don´t know. Go ask him."

"No." Hogan interrupted their bickering. "We are not going to ask him anything. I´m afraid he´s already on to us. I mean: catching Newkirk with his personnel file in his hands... That would even make someone as thick as Schultz suspicious."

"So you´re going to let him go?" Newkirk asked, with disappointment evident in his voice.

Hogan shook his head. "No. I´m not going to let this go. Not yet. Newkirk, when you´re going into town tomorrow, I want you to be properly disguised. Least of all I´d want Langenscheidt to recognize you when you´re following him around town. But until then we´re going to lay low. Don´t pay any special attention to Langenscheidt from now on. Just leave him alone. And that´s an order. Understood?"

♦

The weather was gloomy the following day. The sky was overcast with dark clouds, and an occasional drizzle seeped down on the Hamelburg area.

The additional advantage was that dusk set in early that afternoon, giving Newkirk the opportunity to leave camp as early as 4 p.m.

He was dressed in the disguise he had borrowed from Oskar Danzig (2) a while back. There hadn´t been an occasion yet to return it to the underground leader, and remembering how amazed he had been at the complete personality change Danzig´s outfit had achieved on him, he decided to go for Danzig´s old grandpa-act. After all, being a corpulent hard-hearing old fogey was always better than the old witch he usually played when going into town.

A dictation-session with Hilda had given Hogan the opportunity to sneak a look at the camp´s guard-roster, so Newkirk knew he had his hands free in town until 6.30 at least. That should give him ample time to carefully ask around about his "grandson" Karl Langenscheidt.

Grandpa´s first attempts to get directions to his grandson´s place were met by dismissive "No, sorry"´s. But with the fourth attempt he fell – as he later described it to the guys – in the hands of two notorious chatterboxes.

"Ooh! Karl Langenscheidt!"

"Of course we know him! Father Geisler´s nephew!"

"And such a handsome young man, too!"

"And so courteous!"

"And you are his grandfather?"

"I say he is the spitting image of you, sir!"

"The same blue eyes!"

"Oh yes, absolutely!"

"I suppose you haven´t heard from him in a while then, have you?"

Newkirk cleared his throat, but the ladies left him no time to answer.

"He´s in the army now, you know. As guard in the prison-camp just outside town."

"Though he used to be in business. I don´t know exactly what kind of business, but he was away from home a lot."

"And apparently made quite a bit of money as well."

"Yes, you could say he is well-to-do. Yet it hasn´t made him vain."

"No, he is still the kind and friendly young man he always was."

"Yes. Even as a boy."

"But then it serves him right to be humble. You haven´t forgotten what he did to that Kirchhoffs woman, have you?"

"Can you imagine," a hand was placed on Newkirk´s forearm, "this young man getting a woman with child, and then refuse to marry her!?"

"Even though he still lives nearby!"

"And visits the woman and the poor kid quite often!"

"And rumours have it that he fully provides for them!"

"Yet he flatly refuses to marry her!"

"And him being father Geisler´s nephew, too!"

"Shocking!"

"If you go and see him, sir, as his grandfather I say you should insist upon him marrying her."

"And that he´d acknowledge the girl as his own flesh and blood."

"After all, she´s your great-granddaughter, too, remember?"

"You really should. It´s scandalous the way he´s behaving in that matter!"

Poor Newkirk´s head was spinning by now in trying to keep up with the ladies´ chirpy chatter, and he was glad to finally get a foot in: "Can you tell me where he lives?"

"Of course. It´s a bit out of town, off the Holzstraße. You go about fivehundred meters out of town down the road to Glückenheim, and then it´s to your right. There are a few cottages and farms there; his is the third cottage on the left. It´s practically hidden in a small patch of wood, but at this time of year you can´t miss it."

"Danke. Danke, gnädige Frau," Newkirk grunted gratefully. And then he fled as fast as his old grandfathery legs would allow him to...

"Blimey," he sighed as he was safely out of their reach. "Those ladies could win a war just by talking!"

As he wandered on towards the Holzstraße, he pondered what he had learned from the old chatterboxes. They had added quite a bit of flavour to this Karl Langenscheidt. Who would have thought that the shy awkward corporal would have a bastard-kid?!

He chuckled at the thought of himself being promoted to great-grandfather now.

"Okay, what have we got," he then said quietly to himself. "I´ve heard so much I´m afraid I might forget something."

He scratched in his beard; the thing itched. "Obviously there are rumours about the guy having an illegitimate child. But with those two backbiters being the source of the information, I don´t think we can be entirely sure that it´s the truth. Then he´s the nephew of a priest, he used to be in some unknown business that required a lot of travelling, and he´s pretty rich. And he´s known as a kind and friendly guy. Courteous. Hm. Not bad."

He turned into the Holzstraße. It was more of a country-lane, hardened with gravel, and on each side bordered by an irregular line of bald trees. The few houses were far apart; if you´d live here, you´d need a pair of good binoculars to see what your neighbours were doing in their yard. So it was quite a walk before he reached the third cottage on the left: a small brick gingerbread-house that lay hidden in the woods.

Newkirk whistled appreciatively. "Now that would make for a nice little love-nest!"

All was quiet and dark; he could hardly make out the neighbouring farm through the trees.

He looked at his watch. It was a quarter to six; if Langenscheidt went off-duty at six, he couldn´t possibly be home yet.

Good. That gave him a chance to sneak a thorough look inside the place; see what he could find!

There was no one around, so Newkirk dropped his grandpa-act and crept towards the house with his usual agility.

No sound, save for some small animal in the bushes. So he quickly jumped to his feet and walked to the door. Peter´s magic fingers had but little trouble with the lock, and in a moment he was inside and closed the door behind him.

Holding his breath he remained motionless for a minute. But the house was quiet, apparently deserted.

Good. Then he´d start with the two civilian coats on the coat-rack.

But the search provided him with disappointingly little news. It was a real bachelor´s home: rather untidy, and – as his mother would say – in need of a good turn-out. Yet he could find nothing out of the ordinary except for a pair of car-keys (but no car in sight), an English dictionary, and a huge collection of books. Apparently Langenscheidt was an avid reader, with a strong preference for detectives, espionage-stories and theatrical plays. And Newkirk felt oddly proud to detect a few translated works by some of the greatest English masters on the shelves as well.

But the most striking thing was the total lack of personal memorabilia. There were no pictures, no certificates of any kind, no directory... In fact nothing with Langenscheidt´s or anyone else´s name on it. He could as well have been searching the house of any Hans, Fritz or Jürgen in the country.

Perhaps the cellar would be more revealing. The fact that it was locked could mean that...

At that moment the gravel outside scrunched under a person´s footsteps.

(2) See the episode "That´s No Lady, That´s My Spy"

6.

Dark Pieces Can Be Hard To Place

"So I instantly dodged to the back door in the kitchen. Blimey, it was hardly ten past six; I hadn´t expected him home yet!"

"The Holzstraße, you say?" Hogan walked over to the wall and pulled down the map of the Hamelburg area.

"Off the road to Glückenheim," Newkirk confirmed as he continued to pluck the itchy grey beard off his jaw.

Hogan had already located it. "And it was quite a bit down the track, you said?" He followed the thin line westwards with his finger. "Newkirk, then you must have been nearly back at camp. So I suppose Langenscheidt takes a shortcut through the woods when he goes home."

Newkirk stopped plucking at his chin. "Nearly back at camp?!"

"Smart guy," Kinch commented. "It sure saves time to live so close to the job."

"But what happened next?" Carter urged Newkirk on. "You heard someone coming, you dodged to the kitchen, and then what?"

"Well, what do you think? I unlocked the door and sneaked out of course. Just in time, for when I closed the door, I heard the front door opening."

Carter´s eyes sparkled. "It´s just like in the books!"

Newkirk shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you, Andrew, but what followed is definitely not ´just like in the books´."

"Well, go on!" even LeBeau prompted him.

Newkirk shrugged. "There´s not much to tell. I hid in the bushes first. But he had closed the black-out curtains, so it was pitchblack out there. So I decided to go and listen at the window. But apart from him moving around now and then, I didn´t hear a thing."

Kinch raised his eyebrows. "Would you be holding long monologues if you were home alone?"

"No, but... Anyway, he left about an hour later, dressed in civilian clothes. And naturally I followed him. He went indeed to the Hofbrau. And that sweet Little Red Ridinghood was there, too. Together with some other guy. It was with him that she talked most of the time, but that didn´t stop her from granting Langenscheidt a very warm smile every now and then. Blimey, if a girl would smile at me that way, I´d be at her side in a flash! But all that mug Langenscheidt did was gaze at her. All night long he just sat there, nursing his beer and gazing at her." He drew out the word in amazed disgust. "Sometimes he got company at his table, but he could hardly be bothered to exchange a polite "Gutenabend" or "Heil Hitler"; he was too busy making cow´s eyes at the girl!"

"Now that is true love," Carter pronounced knowledgeably.

"Yeah, calf-love if you ask me," Newkirk spluttered. "I mean: what guy wouldn´t instantly react to such repeated encouragement from a pretty bird? Instead of just sitting there with that heavenly smile on his face and gazing at her?"

"You seem to forget," Kinch reminded him, "that one of the main features we know about Langenscheidt is that he is shy. Not everyone is as forward as you are."

Newkirk gave him a quizzical look. "If you say so..." He started taking off the padded clothes. "Anyhow, our sweet little Maria left around 9.30. She whispered something in Langenscheidt´s ear and he nodded. But I couldn´t hear what she said, even though I was sitting at the table right next to him. And at least her leaving gave him the chance to finally finish that beer he´d been nursing all night. And then he left, too. He walked like he was in a hurry, which made it a bit awkward for grandpa Newkirk to keep up with him of course. So when I saw him turn into the Holzstraße, I figured he was on his way home. Probably wanted to make it before curfew. And that seemed like a good idea for grandpa Newkirk as well, so I headed back to camp from there, too." He grunted like a discontented bear. "All the way round via Hamelburg..."

"Well, at least you came up with a lot of information. Good work, Newkirk!" Hogan complimented him.

"Thank you, sir."

"But what good is it to us to know that Langenscheidt has an illegitimate kid in town?" Kinch wondered.

"Very little," Hogan admitted. "As a matter of fact, I agree with Newkirk that his spokesladies seem to be of the gossipy kind. And that part of the story sounds like typical country-gossip. Such stories exist of a lot of bulldust gathered around a tiny little nucleus of truth."

LeBeau chuckled. "So all we have to do is find out which nucleus of that story is the one and only truthful part."

A grin from Hogan. "Right. Well, I can´t be the judge of that, but the lady in question might as well be his sister or something. But actually I´m more interested in the total lack of personal stuff at his place. That might – just might! – indicate a precaution in case of a Gestapo raid. To make sure they can´t get right onto his connections in case of his capture."

"But?" Kinch prompted.

"But the lack of pictures and things may not be so very odd after all if you think of the place as an untidy bachelor´s apartment, as Newkirk described it."

"I wonder," Carter said pensively, "if he was a businessman before the war, and he travelled a lot... Do you think his business is still in business, Colonel? I mean: when he´s away from camp for weeks, that he´s away on business?"

Hogan nodded. "Good thinking, Carter. Yes, that sure is a possibility." He frowned. "Though I don´t understand why he would get time off for that. The other guards don´t."

"Maybe it´s something valuable for the war-effort," LeBeau suggested.

Behind them the radio creaked, and Kinch put on the headset. "It´s Little Red Ridinghood," he announced.

All the men gathered eagerly around the radio, but Kinch hushed them to be able to hear the message properly.

"What does she say?" Carter asked as soon as Kinch had finished jotting down the message.

"She´s probably noticed how attractive I am, even in my seventies, and wants to go out on a date with me!" Newkirk happily predicted.

But Kinch puzzled for a minute to decipher the code, and then gave his notepad to Hogan.

"What does it say?" Carter repeated.

"Have urgent message from Chameleon to Papa Bear personally. Meet me tomorrow night Hofbrau. Signed: Little Red Ridinghood," Hogan read out loud.

Newkirk whistled. "Well, ain´t the governor a lucky dog? So you are the one who gets to go out on a date with her!"

Hogan pushed back his cap and scratched his head. "Then why do I get the feeling I´m being summoned?"

"Who is Chameleon?" Carter enquired.

Kinch put the pencil behind his ear. "Chameleon is the codename for the Master of Disguises. Also known as Germany´s number one female impersonator, alias resistance leader Oskar Danzig."

7.

The Picture Gets Clearer – Or Does It?

"Perhaps he saw me in town last night wearing his stuff, and he just wants to know when he´ll get it back," Newkirk tried to ease Hogan´s worry.

"Yeah. Maybe." Hogan wasn´t convinced. He had a funny feeling about this meeting, and he had asked Kinch to get a confirmation from Little Red Ridinghood this morning. But the message was and remained to the same effect: "Have urgent message from Chameleon to Papa Bear personally. Meet me tonight Hofbrau. Signed: Little Red Ridinghood."

What else could he do but go?

"Shall I come with you, sir? As back-up?" Newkirk had offered hopefully that afternoon.

But Hogan had declined. " No. I have no idea what this is about, but it sounds serious. I´ll go myself."

So right after roll-call that night, Hogan slipped out through the emergency tunnel, and hurried along the shortcut to town.

As soon as he entered the Hofbrau he noticed Little Red Ridinghood sitting at a corner-table all the way in the back. She was in the company of an elderly man; clearly a countryman, in his fifties, half bald with longish white hair, a full beard and a weathered face.

Hogan walked towards them while unbuttoning his overcoat. "Gutenabend. Have you heard that the wolf is loose in town?" He spoke German of course, in order not to attract attention.

Little Red Ridinghood smiled a little. "Yes, I have heard that. But I have nothing to fear: he has already eaten."

"I´m sorry about your grandmother," was Hogan´s reply.

The older man chuckled in his beard. "It never ceases to amaze me how much humour these codes contain."

"Well, in times like these, we´ve got to vent our humour somewhere." Hogan took off his coat, sat down, and asked a passing waiter to bring him a beer.

Then he nodded at the elderly man and raised his eyebrows at the girl across the table.

"He is okay. He´s one of us," she replied.

"And I´m her uncle as well," the man clarified. His voice was gruffy. "Can´t let my little niece go to a bar alone now, can I? Especially at night." He offered Hogan his hand. "Rutger is the name."

"Hi." Hogan eyed him warily. "Have we met before? There is something... familiar about you."

A smile from Rutger. "Son, I think there´s hardly a member of our group who hasn´t met you one time or another."

"Yeah." Hogan sighed. "You´re probably right." He turned his attention back to the pretty Little Red Ridinghood. "What is this message you have for me?"

She remained silent for a moment as the waiter came with Hogan´s beer. But when the man moved away, she said quietly: "My friend requests that you stop this investigation of the young guard immediately."

Hogan pondered her words for a moment. "Are we perhaps getting too close to the truth?" he asked in return.

She shrugged. "I don´t know. I don´t know what you have found out about him so far. But I do know that he is aware of your sudden keen interest in him. And that could become a problem for everyone concerned."

"Why?" Hogan asked equally quiet.

"Mein Herr." Uncle Rutger leaned forward. "The young man we are talking about is a pawn in Oskar´s organization. A very valuable pawn, but he is hardly aware of the things he is doing for us."

"His infatuation for me makes it very easy for me to convince him to do certain things," Ridinghood explained. "You could say he is struck by love; he just loves to do me any kind of favour, without even considering to question my reasons for the request."

"Oh boy." Hogan snickered. "That sounds like he´s suffering from some serious heart-disease."

Rutger chuckled, and winked at his niece. "You could say that again."

"The problem is," Little Red Ridinghood continued, "that your sudden interest in him is making him suspicious. And he may be love-struck, but he´s not exactly stupid."

Hogan nodded. "So we noticed."

"We know he hates the bad guys and everything they stand for," Rutger added gravely. "We also know that he´s done everything possible not to get actively involved in the war. And I think you´ll agree that is not so easy to pull off at his age. But even though he is a gifted young man, we are also aware that he most probably doesn´t have the courage to really defy the bad guys."

"Which means we can only use him as long as he doesn´t realize what he is doing," Little Red Ridinghood explained.

Hogan nodded slowly. "I see. And my investigation of him is making him wonder: why this sudden interest in me? Am I doing something strange perhaps?"

"With the result that he might put two and two together," Rutger concluded.

"And turn you all in?" Hogan inquired gravely. "I must say it seems like a rather hazardous set-up. What guarantee do you have that he´ll remain in Ridinghood´s power for the duration of the war? No offence, dear, you´re pretty enough, but... Once he´s over his infatuation and realizes what he´s been doing – whatever that is – he might turn you all in!"

But both Rutger and Little Red Ridinghood shook their head in a very decisive manner.

"He would never do that. He hates the bad guys," Little Red Ridinghood said in secure tranquillity.

Hogan raised his eyebrows. "How can you be so sure?"

Little Red Ridinghood blushed a little. "Because I have known him for years. And so has Oskar. And Uncle Rutger."

"But hey, I have to work around this guy day in, day out! I want to know where he stands!" Hogan claimed. "Does he know about our organization, too?!"

Little Red Ridinghood shook her head. "We never told him. Still, that doesn´t mean he doesn´t suspect something. It´s quite possible that he does. But there is no cause for worry; he´ll keep his mouth shut. You have my word for it."

"But I want to know what the heck he...!" Hogan´s voice shot up in alarm.

"Papa Bear." Rutger´s gruffy voice suddenly held unmistakable authority. "Excessive curiosity can easily end in disaster. If Oskar demands that you leave this man alone, then the best thing you can do – for everybody´s sake – is to really leave him alone. Remember that you and Oskar work for the same cause. You regularly work together, but your methods may differ, and you don´t get your orders from the same source either. Which means there may be certain things, certain decisions of the other that are hard to comprehend. We don´t understand all your decisions either. But when you have been assured that it´s okay, then you should let it rest. Is that understood?"

Hogan looked from Rutger to Little Red Ridinghood. And back. And sighed in resignation. "Allright. I suppose I´ll have to take your word for it then."

"Good. And you quit investigating him, and continue to treat him as you always have," Rutger demanded sternly.

Another sigh from Hogan. He felt like he was back in school, getting a good scolding from the headmaster. "Allright, I´ll leave him alone." He frowned, and looked at Little Red Ridinghood. "Just tell me one thing! Did he or did he not know about the special candy on Christmas Eve?"

Her sudden blush at least told him that perhaps the corporal was not the only one who was struck by love.

But her Uncle Rutger burst out laughing. "My good man, let´s just say that some secrets are best kept a secret." He winked. "At least until the war is over."

♦

"So? What message did Danzig have for you?" was Newkirk´s greeting when Hogan came down the emergency tunnel.

Hogan waited with his answer until they had reached the radio-room where the others were gathered.

"Well?" LeBeau prompted.

Hogan sighed. "We´ve pretty much been ordered to back off and leave Langenscheidt alone."

"What? Why?"

"Apparently he´s a pawn in Danzig´s organization, without Langenscheidt being aware of it himself. And they don´t want him to get suspicious."

Silence.

"At least that´s what they told me. Yet I got the impression they were trying to downplay his importance; that he may be far more involved than they wanted me to know."

"They, colonel?" from Kinch.

"Yes, they. Our Little Red Ridinghood was accompanied by an uncle. An elderly man; Rutger he called himself. But as I headed back to camp, I realized..." He hesitated in awe. "I realized I may have been talking with the great Oskar Danzig in person tonight."

The pencil Carter was playing with flew off down the tunnel. "Holy cow! You mean that pretty Little Red Ridinghood is a man?!"

He was met by silent stares.

Only Hogan regarded him with a pensive look. "I was talking about that Uncle Rutger, Carter. But then, considering Danzig´s reputation..." He sighed. "Who knows, perhaps she is?"

Epilogue

Upside Down

And so, Oskar Danzig´s request meant that the puzzle Hogan and his men were trying to solve was turned right upside down again. Put away until the war is over.

They have learned quite a bit in the process. They even got some idea of the entire picture of the puzzle "Corporal Karl Johann Langenscheidt" – especially with the hints they got from Little Red Ridinghood and her Uncle Rutger that night.

But at the time when they were told to scramble all the pieces again, there were still quite some pieces missing. Pieces – details they still don´t understand.

But perhaps it´s better that way. Safer.

For Oskar Danzig´s organization.

For Corporal Langenscheidt.

And for themselves.

For – as Uncle Rutger (Oskar Danzig?) put it:

"Some secrets are best kept a secret.

At least until the war is over."

The End

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Author´s Note:

Frustrated that the mystery wasn´t really solved?

Well, at least you guys got what you asked for: Hogan did investigate our love-struck little corporal. And even though Hogan was told to back off, that doesn´t mean you have to back off as well.

For by reading some of my other stories, you might be able to figure out what kind of hornet´s nest Hogan was stirring up here. I just didn´t want him to find out the truth just yet.

And after all, by now fortunately the war is over.

And it has been for over sixty years.

So I don´t think Oskar Danzig would object to people finding out the truth about Langenscheidt anymore. :-)

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The prequel to The Mystery of the Love-Struck Corporal:

No Silent Night

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