Act Five

Scene One

William Shakespeare:

"All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players.

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts"

Certain characters have been borrowed with permission from the writings of Mel Hughes (Dress Rehearsal) and LaVerne Cash (NewBeginnings). If you are interested in reading those works, please email me.

Theater of War: Act Five — "One Man in His Time" is an amateur publication for the enjoyment of fans. The copyright covers only original material, and in no way intends to infringe upon the privileges of the holders of copyrights, trademarks or other legal rights for the Hogan's Heroes universe.

If you have not read Theater of War: Act One, Act Two, Act Three and Act Four, including all their Scenes, please do so as each Act is a continuation of the prior Acts. Also, unlike Acts One through Four, Act Five is not a published fanzine and it is not yet complete. It is a work in progress, so comments, suggestions, etc. to correct completed chapters or to help future chapters is greatly appreciated. If you have any questions or comments about the stories thus far, feel free to email me. Thank you for reading.

(BTW, there are a lot of explanatory footnotes.)


Chapter 1

March 23, 1945

"And that's it for the news in the Pacific Theater," intoned the voice of Armed Forces Radio in the recreation hall of Stalag Luft 13. "On the Eastern Front, the Soviets have reached Küstrin, some 50 miles from Berlin. But German resistance remains strong, and the Soviet advance is stalled. However, the Soviets did capture Kolberg on the Baltic, and the ports of Gdynia and Danzig are under heavy attack. Attacks continue against German pockets in eastern Prussia.

"On the Western front, the updated list of some of the cities taken by our forces includes: Aachen, Andernach, Bonn, Boppard, Cologne, Koblenz, Kochem, Krefeld, Müchen-Gladbach, Rheydt, Saarbrücken and Trier."

At the large map tacked onto the back wall, Lt. J.B. Miller(1) checked the flags showing captured cities.

The radio voice continued, "The area between the Rhine and Moselle rivers is now under Allied control. However, the Siegried Line, also known as the West Wall, is still holding.

"The Remagen Bridge, which enabled our troops to cross the Rhine for the first time on March 7th, collapsed on March 17, killing several engineers. The loss of the bridge hasn't delayed our buildup on the eastern shore of the Rhine as pontoon bridges had already been built across the river.

"Yesterday, our bombers attacked numerous targets in the Ruhr and throughout Germany. Our advance on Frankfurt continues; General Eisenhower has warned civilians in Frankfurt to evacuate the city.

"Just in — two days ago the 4th Armoured Division took Worms while the 10th Armoured Division has captured the city of Darmstadt, the furthest city east thus far.

"The 90th Division has now cleared the city of Mainz of enemy troops. Meanwhile, the XX Corps began its attack on Ludwigshafen . . . "

Colonel Robert Hogan, once the senior POW officer and now the commander of surrendered Stalag Luft 13, a small POW camp northeast of the city of Dusseldorf in Germany, listened to the broadcast with half a mind. The rest of his mind was occupied with the moves made by his chess opponent, Luftwaffe Colonel Wilhelm Klink, the former commandant of Stalag Luft 13. For the past three and a half years, Hogan and Klink had been playing chess. For most of that time, Hogan had been under the impression that he'd been letting Klink win most of those games — his way of soothing the ego of the camp commandant to get whatever he wanted. That impression had been rudely dashed a few months ago when he discovered that Klink was the most notorious Resistance leader in Germany, the Stage, and to Hogan's chagrin, he still lost most of their games.

All in all, it had been an interesting and terrifying year, beginning shortly after the New Year with Gestapo Major Wolfgang Hochstetter's secret arrest of Klink after discovering that Klink was the Stage(2). Coming on the heels of Hogan's rescue of Klink and their subsequent return to camp was a fire that had destroyed most of nearby Hammelburg and would have destroyed Stalag 13 if Hogan and five hundred prisoner volunteers hadn't helped fight the fire(3). The devastating fire hadn't kept General Albert Burkhalter, Klink's superior, from sending the already crowded, understaffed and undersupplied camp several hundred new prisoners. Not long after the camp absorbed the newcomers, Klink nearly lost his life in a forced hunt orchestrated by a sadistic SS major named Reiner who'd guessed that Klink was the notorious Stage. Klink survived, and had come back to the overcrowded camp where he and Hogan had to deal with dwindling food and supplies, malcontented prisoners, an escaping concentration camp survivor who'd once been a friend of Klink's and Hogan getting shot during a rescue mission(4). And they had to deal with learning about the true horror of the Nazi regime — the death camps and the murders of millions of people. As commanders of men, they then had to deal with their men when the prisoners and guards learned about the camps and raged with anger and hatred at each other.

Then came Klink's surrender of the camp to Hogan. And the shock created by the actions of the commander sent by London. A strict disciplinarian towards those not part of his cabal, Colonel Francis Randall had turned his men loose on the town and his hatred on Klink, nearly killing him before Hogan rescued Klink and took the camp away from Randall.

That had been eleven days ago. Thankfully, everyone had now settled into a reasonably comfortable routine. Klink was teaching Hogan the fine points of commanding an army post, including dealing with the paperwork that Hogan loathed. The Allied soldiers had taken over most of the daily operations of the camp from the former German guards. And while it was too soon to expect the camp to run like a military base, the former prisoners, with the help of those newcomers who weren't part of Randall's clique, were beginning to function more like the military men they once were.

Then there was the town of Hammelburg. Thanks to Klink, the area was cut off from Field Marshall Walter Model's Army Group B and the war. As a result, peace reigned in the immediate area. True, there were shortages of food and other necessities. True, most of the town was in ruins. But merciless bombs didn't rain on them night and day, the children could play in safety and the old could enjoy the pastimes they'd always known. And there were no vast numbers of men from both sides fighting in their streets as there were in many parts of Germany. Even those who had not completely agreed with the surrender of the town to Hogan had reason to be grateful. And all saw the end coming to the Reich that the Führer had said would last for a thousand years. But outside the tranquil haven, the war continued, as they'd just heard on the news, on its bloody way.

"And that's it for the news of the day in the European Theater. Now, here's Tommy Dorsey and his band . . . "

Sergeant Richard Baker, a tall American black man, walked into the recreation hall as the music began.

Hogan glanced at him in surprise; Baker was supposed to be listening to the Stage's special frequency.

Baker walked over to Hogan and Klink and saluted. He handed Hogan a note. "From London, sir."

Hogan looked at it and smiled. "It's about time!"

Klink and the others looked at him.

Hogan's smile grew. "They're sending those uniforms we requested with tomorrow's cargo drop. It sounds like we cleaned out the whole inventory for the Brits and the U.S."

"Yeah, but will they fit?" asked young American Sergeant Andrew Carter.

"If they don't, we wasted three days getting everyone's measurements," retorted RAF corporal Peter Newkirk.

Amid the laughs, Baker turned to Klink. "Sir, Edmondson would like to talk to you. He said he'd call back in twenty minutes."

Hogan looked at Klink. Klink whose hand had stopped in midair as he moved a black knight. Klink's expression was unreadable, too much so. Which didn't bode well for the unseen Edmondson. Then, with exaggerated care, the knight landed on a square.

"You may tell Edmondson," Klink said in an emotionless voice, "that if I decide I have no choice but to talk to him, it will be at my convenience. Not his."

Hogan looked sharply at Klink as Baker said, "Yes, sir."

Baker saluted again, earning a look from some of the others in the recreation hall, and left.

Hogan opened his mouth, intending to ask Klink . . .

And shut it. There was a warning glint in Klink's eye as he looked at Hogan. Then that disappeared, replaced by . . . Hogan blinked. For a moment, for one unnerving moment, there had been such anger in Klink's eyes. And Hogan found himself wondering what Edmondson had done to deserve it.


March 24, 1945:

"From Armed Forces Radio: Our big news of the day is the nighttime Rhine crossing yesterday by General Patton's Third Army at Oppenheim. The crossing was a complete surprise and our forces encountered unexpectedly weak opposition during the crossing. Yesterday, thousands of bombers from the Eighth Air Force attacked numerous targets east of the Rhine while the Ninth Air Force attacked numerous communications centers."

Colonel Robert Hogan was in Klink's — my, he amended silently — office, going over yet another report with his exec, RAF Captain John Witton(5). Overhead, he could hear the drone of the C-47s(6) and their accompanying fighter escort getting louder. He glanced at his watch and grinned. Nine a.m. Right on time. Nice of the Eighth Air Force boys to be so prompt, especially with so much else going on.

There was a perfunctory knock on the door and Lt. J.B. Miller poked his head inside. "Colonel," Miller managed to gasp, "we just got a call from the lead plane. We're getting company and one of them has three stars."

Witton looked at Miller with surprise. "A lieutenant general?"

"Yes, sir."

Oh, great! Hogan thought as he stood up. "Guess we'd better meet him. Miller, get a jeep and get out to the field."

"Yes, sir." Miller's head disappeared.

"Hilda!"

"Jawohl, Colonel Hogan," she answered from the outer office.

"Find Captains Mitchell, Martin and Warren. Have them meet us at the back gate. And send a messenger to Colonel Klink; he's with Gruber and Schultz. Tell him we're getting some important company, a lieutenant general."

"Jawohl, Colonel," Hilda said, picking up the telephone.

Hogan and Witton were heading out the door.

"Think he's your replacement, Colonel?" Witton asked.

"A lieutenant general? We're an isolated backwater camp, barely the size of a brigade; we wouldn't warrant a lieutenant general. Unless . . . "

"Unless?"

"Unless something big's going to happen," Hogan said with a touch of grimness in his voice.

They left the office and headed for the back gate.

Just outside the back gate, Hogan glanced at the approaching captains — Edward H. Martin(7), John Mitchell(8) and Jerry Warren(9).

"What's up, Colonel?" Martin asked when they reached Hogan and Witton.

"We've got visiting brass," Hogan said. He nodded at the C-47s approaching the open field opposite the back gate. High above the unarmed cargo planes, the squadron of P-51 escorts circled, looking for enemy fighters. "A lieutenant general."

Warren whistled softly. "Any idea who, sir?"

Hogan shook his head. "Not a clue."

Hogan and the four captains watched as one of the six cargo planes peeled off from the others and headed for the field. Two opening parachutes appeared. When the parachutists got close enough to be identified, Miller, in the jeep, took off across the hard-packed field, and stopped, waiting for the parachutists to land. Miller got out of the jeep and saluted. Then the three men got into the jeep, which turned back towards the back gate. As soon as the jeep cleared the field, the six cargo planes came back and, circling the field in a tight formation, began unloading their cargo. Dozens of billowing white canopies dotted the gray sky. Even more soft packages without parachutes, the uniforms Hogan thought idly, were pushed from the planes as the jeep with Miller and the two visitors reached the back gate.

Hogan and the captains saluted as the visitors, a green-looking captain and the lieutenant general, got out of the jeep.

The two officers also saluted.

"Colonel Hogan? I'm Captain Elliot Mason," said the officer in a shaky voice. "I'd like to introduce Lt. General Edward Edmondson(10)."

"General Edmondson," Hogan said, hiding his surprise at Edmondson's name. "Welcome to Stalag Luft 13."

Edmondson, a shorter, stockier man in his late fifties, held out his hand to shake Hogan's. "Thank you, Colonel."

Hogan turned to the officers behind him and introduced them.

Edmondson nodded a greeting. "Gentlemen." He turned to Hogan with a faint smile. "Colonel, now that the formalities are over with, you and your men can relax. This is an unofficial visit. In fact, I was never here, if you catch my drift."

Hogan smiled. "Yes, sir."

Edmondson grinned. "Good. I'd like Mason to take a tour of the camp, get a feel of the place and see if there's anything we could do to make things a bit more comfortable for the men here."

"Of course, sir. Captain Witton, please show Captain Mason around."

Edmondson glanced at the still pale face of his aide and cleared his throat. "I think Mason could do with some breakfast first, if you don't mind, Captain. I didn't tell him we were going to be jumping out of a plane."

Witton smiled briefly at Mason. "No problem, sir. If you'll follow me, Captain."

"What about you, sir?" Hogan asked Edmondson as the captains began leaving.

Edmondson laughed shortly. "Cast iron stomach; I ate on the plane. Mason's a bit more tender." He looked at Hogan. "I saw a glint of recognition when Mason said my name. Did he tell you about me?"

"No, sir," Hogan said as they began walking along the inside wire. "I was there when your message was delivered yesterday." He cleared his throat.

Edmondson laughed. "When he so politely told me to go to hell."

"Yes, sir," Hogan said. "And one other time."

"Oh?"

"Yes, sir. When you told him about the Messerschmitts last month(11)."

Edmondson nodded. "I gather you didn't expect me to be a lieutenant general."

"No, sir, I didn't."

"For most operatives, you'd be right. But he's always been a special case. Keeping him outside of the normal intelligence channels made it much safer for him. When MI-5 was compromised in 1940(12), and most of the agents in Europe were arrested or forced out, the Stage survived. And grew. My rank cut through the red tape and ensured that he got the cooperation and supplies he needed."

Hogan nodded. "May I ask why you're here, General?"

"Not to take over, if that's what you're worried about."

"Well . . . "

Edmondson smiled briefly. "You're still in charge, Hogan"

"Thank you, sir."

"Least I can do, considering." He fell silent for a moment. "How is he, Hogan?"

"Physically, fine. Getting more sleep than he's gotten in years, even with the nightmares," Hogan said as Edmondson winced. "His back's healed and the scars should fade in time."

Hogan glanced at Edmondson's profile as the general looked around the camp. And he followed Edmondson's gaze. He saw Klink standing with Captain Fritz Gruber, Sergeants Hans Schultz and Karl Langenscheidt and several of the former guards; they were watching the supply drop. Hogan glanced at Edmondson again and was surprised at the bemused expression on Edmondson's face as he looked at the tall, lean man in the Luftwaffe uniform.

Edmondson caught Hogan's eye and smiled faintly. "I just realized that this is the first time I've seen him in his uniform. Every other time, he was wearing civilian clothes or one of our uniforms." Edmondson shook his head. "Seems a bit odd to tell you the truth."

Hogan nodded and said evenly, "You came to see him, sir."

A curt nod. "We have a few things to clear up."

"Sir?"

"Later, Colonel."

"Yes, sir."

As they neared Klink and the others, Hogan could see Klink's expression grow unreadable, and he heard Edmondson's sigh as they walked over.

Then they reached the Germans. Klink and the others saluted, salutes that Edmondson returned.

When Klink showed no sign of speaking, Hogan found himself saying, "Colonel Klink, General Edmondson."

Edmondson nodded abruptly, as did Klink.

In other circumstances, the silent confrontation might have been amusing to Hogan, but the tension between the two men was now palpable. Hogan didn't know why and that annoyed him.

After a few uncomfortable moments, Edmondson broke the silence. "I'd like to talk to you, Colonel Klink. Alone."

Klink jerked his head in a nod.

Edmondson turned to Hogan. "If you don't mind, Colonel Hogan, we'll walk outside the fence."

"Not at all, sir."

"Good. After you, Colonel Klink." Edmondson gestured.

Klink walked away from the others, heading for the back gate.

Hogan, after watching the two men for a moment, nodded goodbye to the bewildered Germans and left.


Edmondson and Klink strode through the back gate. Edmondson glanced at the containers still dropping toward the ground. There were fewer of them as only one C-47 was still dropping cargo. The final container was released and the last plane joined the others that had been circling the camp. Then the six C-47s and their fighter escort flew out of the area. As the last container hit the field, men in the waiting vehicles surged onto the field to retrieve the goods.

Edmondson turned to the silent man beside him; Klink was also watching the field. Edmondson glanced at the gate; they were still too close to the sentries and the men returning with the supplies. He resumed walking along the road that ran parallel to the camp; Klink followed him silently.

They had left the others behind; the road was deserted. Only the birds in forest broke the silence.

"Damn it, Stage!" Edmondson said after they had walked without a word being exchanged for ten minutes. "Say something!"

Klink stopped. An emotion crossed his face, but before Edmondson could identify it, it was gone. "I beg your pardon, sir. Were you talking to me?"

Edmondson held on to his temper. "You've had your laugh, St — "

"There is no one here by that name, General," Klink said in a controlled voice. "My name is Wilhelm Erich Klink. I am a colonel in the Luftwaffe. My serial number is — "

"Enough! I didn't come here to play games with you."

"I am not playing, Herr General. I am pointing out a fact you have forgotten. A fact that Colonel Randall and his men did not let me forget. I am a German, one of the despised enemy. So, Lt. General Edward Edmondson, what could you possibly have to say to a German prisoner of war?"

"I can say I made a mistake."

Klink looked at him for a moment and turned away. "Why?" Klink asked in a taut voice. "Why did you send Randall? Why didn't you leave Hogan in charge?"

"Leave Hogan in charge? Leaving aside the fact that he had minimal experience in administration, I didn't know if he was even going to be here. You surrendered the camp out of the blue and didn't bother telling me what you were going to do. For all I knew, you were going to vanish and take Hogan with you!"

"So it was my fault for not telling you."

"I did not say that! As for Randall, I didn't have my staff check him out; I left it to others."

Klink looked away from him. "I surrendered the camp and the town because I thought they would be safe. And I thought Hogan would be in charge. Or if not him, someone who would treat the people here as human beings if not as allies." He turned back to Edmondson, anger tightening his expression. "And if I did leave with Hogan, if I had not been here, what would have happened then? Randall didn't care who he tortured. I was a uniform to him. If I hadn't been here, the one who would have been in that cell was Captain Gruber. And he'd be dead! Dead not merely because of Randall's behavior. But dead because Captain Witton, through no fault of his own, wouldn't have cared enough about him to defy Randall."

"I know," Edmondson said. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you should apologize to! Apologize to Gruber and the others who were unjustly confined. Apologize to the four women who were raped. Apologize to the people were beaten and threatened. And apologize to the 12-year-old boy whose future, whose life, was forever changed when his head hit that stone wall!(13)"

Klink turned away from him, his fingers clenched around the riding crop.

"I know how most Allied soldiers, including those in command, feel about Germans," Klink said in a defeated voice. "I know what the official policy is for dealing with Germans(14). And I know how little valued the Resistance is in your country by your newspapers(15) and many in your government. But I thought that here at least where so many in the town had helped Hogan, had helped the Allies, here at least they would be spared the anger and hatred that Germans will have to face. That here they would be treated as decent people and not as conquered enemies."

"They will be, Wilhelm," Edmondson said in a quiet tone. "I'll make sure of it. And I'll make sure that Randall and his followers are punished."

"Will you be allowed to?" was the bitter question.

"Yes. I know it's hard for you to believe right now, but you do have friends."

An ironic smile. "The Stage has friends."

Edmondson shook his head. "No, the Stage has admirers; Wilhelm Klink has friends. Influential friends. When the decision is made to appoint a permanent commander for the area, that man will know exactly what the town has done for us, and will know about Hogan and his people, and you. That I guarantee." He looked at Klink's profile. "Peace?"

After a long moment, Klink turned back to him. "Peace."

Edmondson smiled. "Thank you." He glanced back at the field. Supplies and men were still moving into the camp. He saw Hogan and Mason near one of the supply huts and nodded toward them. "How's Hogan doing?"

"He's learning."

A bark of laughter. "Good. If he wants to stay in the Air Force after the war is over, he'll have to get used to admin."

"He wants to fly," Klink said.

"Oh, I think they'll let him do some of that. But flyboys are a dime a dozen. So are colonels. Did you know he was frocked into his rank?"

Klink looked blankly at him.

"Frocking is giving a man a higher rank than he's really got.(16) Know what I mean?"

Klink nodded.

"In Hogan's case, he was a major when he went to England with the Lend-Lease program. Well, we couldn't have a major dealing with group captains and generals and the like, so he was frocked to colonel. And since the war started, there are American generals who are really colonels or even majors, colonels who are really captains, and so on. After the war ends, we're going to downsize quickly, and many of the men who remain will be reduced to their permanent ranks."

"Including Hogan?"

Edmondson smiled. "Well, he's a special case. A couple of months after he was captured, he had just enough time in grade as a major to make Lt. Colonel. If he'd been just a normal POW, they wouldn't have given him the promotion.(17) But after he got his crazy idea about using the camp to help escaping airmen, well, Marshall(18) and Arnold(19) decided that maybe we could use a man like him after the war — assuming he survived, that is. So, Hogan got his permanent promotion to Lt. Colonel. And now, he's got enough time in grade to make full colonel. If he were anyone else, the promotion wouldn't have gone through; we've already got too many colonels and generals wandering around. But Ike got curious about Hogan and the camp after I told him about it. We spent a couple of hours chewing the fat, uh, talking about the operation here," he clarified as Klink's face went blank. "And Ike was impressed enough to decide that the Army could use someone like Hogan after the war. A lot of the older upper rank men are going to retire or will be told to retire to bring fresh blood into the postwar Army. And if Arnold and Spaatz(20) have their way, they're going to split the Air Corps off into a separate service. They'll need men with new ideas and the guts to change the system if it needs changing."

"Like Hogan," Klink said with a faint smile.

"Like Hogan. A permanent rank of colonel just might make him decide to stay in after the war."

"I'm glad; he deserves it."

"Yeah . . . well." Edmondson looked uncomfortable now. "Speaking of after the war — "

Klink looked at him.

"How much do you know about what's going to happen?" Edmondson asked.

"I have some idea," Klink said slowly, reluctantly. Then he looked at Edmondson. "I know that there are a number of prominent people in your country who wouldn't care if every German died of starvation.(21)"

Edmondson returned his look steadily. "I can't deny that. Any more than I can deny that there are Americans who are raping and looting and acting as bad as any Nazi. There will be a military occupation. How long? God knows, though the President(22) has said publicly no more than two years. Personally, I think he's kidding himself. How is the occupation going to work?" Edmondson shook his head. "Don't know yet. There are meetings going on in Washington right now trying to decide that. Part of the problem, to be blunt, is that the President, well, sometimes acts as if he doesn't remember what he's said or done, though it's debatable if he really doesn't remember or prefers not to, and gives contradictory orders."

Klink's brow rose.

Edmondson nodded. "Very few know, but Roosevelt's health isn't good.(23) Hasn't been for some time; that hasn't helped the situation. Nor does it help that he's a politician in every sense of the word, good and bad(24). But," his hand reached inside his jacket, "there is one solid fact I can give you." He pulled a large folded sheet of paper from his pocket. "They've decided on four occupation zones, presumably autonomous with each occupying power deciding what to do and how to do it within their zone."

Edmondson looked at the paper in his hand, uncomfortably it seemed to Klink. Then, to Klink's surprise, Edmondson handed it to him.

Klink took it and glanced at Edmondson who refused to meet his eyes. Klink turned away from him, opening the folded paper. It was a map of Germany, showing the major cities and states. Overlaid on the map were red lines showing the occupation zones — French, American, British, and Soviet.

Dear God, NO!

Klink felt numb, and after a long silence, he said in a flat voice. "I understand that there are people in your country who are proud to say they can trace their families back to your American Revolution . . . My family has lived in Leipzig for over 500 years . . . And," he crumpled the map, "and you've just told me I can't go home."

He scarcely heard Edmondson say, "I know . . . I'm sorry."

For several minutes, the only sound was the breeze rustling the leaves.

Finally, Edmondson spoke, "Based on the plans I saw, it will be Hodges' First Army that gets to Leipzig; the Soviets are stopping at the Mulde(25). And nothing's going to happen for at least a couple of months after the war ends. You can still . . . "

His voice trailed off and he stared at Klink's ramrod-straight back. "I'm sorry," he said again gently.

Then he turned and left Klink alone.


Endnotes

1 "The Meister Spy"

2 Act Two

3 Act Three

4 Act Four

5 Act Three

6 The military version of the civilian DC-3, the C-47 was an unarmed transport plane used to haul cargo, troops, equipment, vehicles, etc. If needed, it could also tow gliders and act as a flying ambulance.

7 "The Gold Rush"

8 "The Big Gamble"

9 "The Flame Grows Higher"

10 Act Four

11 Act Four

12 The Venlo incident. In brief, two British agents were kidnapped in Venlo, Holland by SS agents under Walter Schellenberg who had infiltrated the Dutch (SIS) intelligence agency and tricked the British into meeting with his people. After their capture, the British agents cooperated with their captors. The net result was that the Dutch network was destroyed, as was most of the British.

13 Act Four

14 JCS 1067: no fraternization or friendly relations with Germans including not shaking hands, not having personal conversations, not sharing food, not treating even children with leniency, among other things. In short, make certain that Germans were still treated as the enemy. An excellent book on the U.S. Occupation of Germany is available online for free as part of the Army Historical Series: Earl F. Ziemke, The U.S. Army in the Occupation of Germany 1944 – 1946. Another is Frederick Taylor's Exorcising Hitler, The Occupation and Denazification of Germany. In reality, individual commanders of the Occupation troops had considerable leeway in how they interpreted JCS 1067 for the areas under their command.

15 Instead of praising the assassination attempt on Hitler in July 1944, publications such as The New York Herald Tribune were castigating the "militarists" who tried to get rid of Hitler and were almost praising Hitler for executing them. To the dismay of many, such as Allen Dulles, instead of encouraging Germans to join the Resistance, most American and British politicians were silent or disparaging about those who had tried to get rid of Hitler. Thomas Fleming: The New Dealers' War: F.D.R. and the War within World War II.

16 A frocked officer gets the respect, title and insignia of the frocked rank, but not the pay or time in grade. Omar Bradley, frocked to 3-star lieutenant general in 1943; was still officially a lieutenant colonel. Lt. General George Patton's real rank was colonel. When Dwight David "Ike" Eisenhower, the 5-star General of the Army, top Allied Commander in Europe, and head of SHAEF (Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Forces) was promoted to 4-star general in early 1943, his permanent rank was still only lieutenant colonel, though his promotions to general in the permanent Army gained speed as the war went on. The Germans also frocked many of their officers.

17 If they had enough time in grade and otherwise qualified, POWs could be promoted on a case-by-case basis.

18 George C. Marshall: Chief of Staff of the US Army from1939, senior 5-star general, outranking all others.

19 Henry Harley "Hap" Arnold: 5-star General of the Army Air Force

20 Carl "Tooey" Spaatz: 4-star general who commanded US air strategic forces in Europe

21 The Morgenthau Plan devised by U.S. Secretary of the Treasury Henry Morgenthau who had insinuated himself into affairs that were properly the military's and the Secretary of State's. If he had his way, Germany was to be permanently dismembered, all industries destroyed, estates broken up, mines destroyed and closed, and the country reduced to a permanent agricultural state with its population at a subsistence level. While it was ultimately rejected before the war ended, it became the basis of JCS 1067.

22 Franklin Delano Roosevelt, president of the U.S. 1933 to April 1945.

23 FDR suffered from, among other things, an enlarged heart; drugs that alleviate the disease didn't exist in 1945. By this time, many who hadn't seen him in a while were convinced, as Gen. Lucius Clay put it, "We've been talking to a dead man." Thomas Fleming: The New Dealers' War, F.D.R. and the War within World War II.

24 FDR, endowed with a belief in his invincibility, was certain he would live beyond the end of the war and rarely told his staff, including Cabinet officers and Vice President Truman, what he really intended to do.

25 The two armies were to meet at the Mulde, but due to a communication error on the part of the Soviets, the meeting eventually took place on the Elbe, 20 miles further east.