John Katzenbach - Hart’s War

Into this reverie came voices, which he ignored, because by this time he was forever hearing voices, and most of these belonged to people long dead. Even Visser had spoken to him angrily once, but Tommy had arrogantly sneered at this ghost.

It was, however, not a fantasy when the cell door was thrust open.

Tommy looked up through cloudy, bleary eyes, and saw the unmistakable form of Hugh Renaday lurching through the entranceway.

"Bloody hell!" Hugh blurted, as he bent toward Tommy, who was unable to rise from his spot on the floor.

Tommy smiled through the hurt.

"Hugh. I thought you'd…"

"Bought it? Damn close. That bastard Visser ordered me shot. Lucky thing Von Reiter wouldn't go along with it. So I'm still alive and kicking, my friend."

"What about the others?"

"What others?"

"The men who got out…"

Hugh grinned.

"The bloody Krauts caught ten guys wandering around in the forest lost as newborn babes that morning. Another five men were arrested at the station, waiting for the second train through. Seems like there was some problem with the tickets that got forged and the Gestapo didn't have any trouble picking them out of the crowds. But three guys, the first three up and out of the tunnel, are still missing and unaccounted for. Their tickets must have been acceptable and their train pulled in and took off before the alarm was sounded. Lots of rumors around, but nothing definite."

Tommy nodded.

"That's good," he said.

"They were lucky."

"Luck? Hell, who knows? Oh, and our boy Fritz Number One, he got a medal and a raise. He's now a sergeant, and he gets to wear one of those shiny black crosses around his neck.

He's been strutting around the camp like the cock o' the roost, as you can imagine."

Hugh reached down and thrust his hands around Tommy, lifting him as he spoke.

"Come on now, counselor. We're getting you out of here," he said.

"Scott and Fenelli?"

"They're getting out, too."

Tommy smiled.

"Good, good," he said weakly.

"Hugh, my hand…"

The Canadian clenched his teeth.

"Hang in there, lad.

We're going to get you some help."

The cooler corridor was crowded with rifle-bearing German guards. Hugh half-carried Tommy from the cell, where Lincoln Scott reached over and wordlessly took half the burden of Tommy's weight. Tommy felt skeletal, almost rubber-legged, when he tried to walk, as if each joint in his body had somehow worked itself loose and no longer held him together.

Fenelli was cursing under his breath, leading them out of the cooler block into the sunlight outside. All the men blinked at the sudden blast of brightness, and inhaled the warm air greedily. There were more Germans waiting for them, as well as Colonel MacNamara and Major

Clark, who paced back and forth in front of the cooler building, impatiently.

"How is he?" Colonel MacNamara instantly demanded of Fenelli.

"He's hurting bad," the medic replied.

MacNamara nodded, then pointed toward the camp administration building.

"Right in there," he said.

"Von Reiter is waiting."

With Tommy at the center of the odd procession, the men were ushered directly into Commandant Von Reiter's office.

The German officer was seated behind his immaculate desk as usual, but he rose when they entered. He straightened his uniform self-consciously and clicked his heels together, bowing slightly at the waist. A studied, tight performance.

The kriegies, with the exception of Tommy all saluted.

Von Reiter gestured toward a chair, and Tommy was helped into it by

Fenelli and Lincoln Scott, who stood directly behind him.

The German cleared his throat and stared again at Tommy's disfigured hand.

"You do poorly. Lieutenant Hart?" he asked.

Tommy laughed through all the hurt.

"Had better days," he whispered hoarsely.

Colonel MacNamara stepped forward, speaking sharply, his back rigid, his face set with furious demand.

"I want this man attended to immediately! His wounds are serious, as you can easily see. Under the Geneva Convention, he is entitled to proper medical care! I warn you, commandant, this situation is of critical importance. We will tolerate no further delays " Von Reiter held up his palm.

"Lieutenant Hart will receive the best of care. I have made the necessary arrangements. I apologize for the delay, but these are delicate matters."

"Well, every minute we delay further endangers this officer!"

Von Reiter nodded.

"Yes, yes, colonel, this I can see. But much has happened and while we are eager to be efficient, there are some questions that remain. Mr.

Hart? You are perhaps capable of answering a few questions? So that the paperwork I send to my superiors will be complete."

Tommy tried to shrug.

"He doesn't have to answer anything," Major Clark blurted.

Von Reiter sighed.

"Major, please, indulge me. You have not heard the questions yet."

The commandant allowed a second or two of silence to penetrate the room. Then he turned back to Tommy Hart.

"Lieutenant, do you know who murdered Captain Vincent Bedford of the United States Army Air Corps?"

Tommy smiled. He nodded and replied weakly, "Yes, I do."

"It was not Lieutenant Scott?"

Before Tommy could reply to this. Colonel MacNamara interrupted.

"Commandant Von Reiter! As you are well aware, Lieutenant Scott was acquitted of this crime by the unanimous verdict of a military tribunal sitting in court-martial!

While Lieutenant Scott was imprisoned in your cooler, the tribunal concluded that there was not evidence beyond and to the exclusion of a reasonable doubt concerning this killing, and Lieutenant Scott was declared not guilty! I fail to see why " "Please, colonel, I have not completed my examination."

"Acquitted?" Scott asked, with a short laugh.

"It might have been nice if someone had told me."

"The camp knows," MacNamara said.

"We made an announcement at Appell the morning after the escape."

Scott smiled. He placed a hand on Tommy's shoulder and gave him a congratulatory squeeze.

MacNamara quieted. Von Reiter paused, looked from face to face, then continued to ask questions.

"Lieutenant Hart, let me put this another way. Your investigation determined the identity of the real killer, did it not?"

"It did," Tommy answered as strongly as possible.

Von Reiter smiled.

"I thought it would." The German shook his head slightly.

"I thought some people might have underestimated you, Mr. Hart. But that, of course, concerns us little now. To continue, lieutenant, this murderer… he was not a member of the Luftwaffe, was he?"

"No sir."

"Nor was he a member of any other German armed force, correct?"

"That is correct, commandant," Tommy replied.

"In other words. Captain Bedford's assassin was a member of the Allied forces imprisoned here at Stalag Luft Thirteen?"

"Yes."

"You will be willing to sign a statement confirming this fact?"

"As long as I am not required to identify the actual murderer."

Von Reiter laughed briefly.

"That, of course, lieutenant, is a matter for your own authorities to discuss with you at some later, more convenient point. My superiors have declared that the purposes of the Luftwaffe will be served by merely swearing that the killer does not belong to our service, thereby relieving us from any lingering culpability in this unfortunate matter.

You can do that?"

"Yes, commandant."

Von Reiter seemed pleased.

"I have taken the liberty of having this document prepared. You will have to have trust that the German language reflects what I have just stated and you have confirmed. Unless your own officers would like to supply a translator…"