What If...

(A New Twist on the Old Episode The Hostages.)

Fan Fiction by Rose Schrock (AKA Hazelnut)

Copyright by Rose Schrock September 2000

Hurry. The word pounded relentlessly against Doc's troubled mind.

Hurry. Hurry and find a truck. Any type of truck at all. Just get back. Get back before your time is up. Caje and the Sarge are counting on you.

Phrases and sentences mingled together into one powerful symphony of fear. Beads of perspiration formed on the medic's face, but he did not even bother to wipe them away. Doc was a man with a mission. On a mission not to kill, but to save two lives by his very obedience to the enemy. An absurd idea, but a true one, nevertheless. And the southern boy from Arkansas was not the kind to desert a mission... or a friend.

Hurry. His thoughts hounded him again like a dog on the trail of a rabbit.

I am. Doc answered angrily to himself. I am doing my best, OK? I hope that is enough.

Only moments had passed since Doc had left the barbershop where a vicious enemy was holding two of his closest buddies as hostages. Four Americans had gone into the quaint town shop, eager for any chance to clean up and take a warm shower. One of them now lay dead in that Godforsaken French village. Poor Barnarbo would never even get the chance to take his coveted shower. The other three GIs the cunning Captain Aptmeyer took prisoner. The captain had then ordered Doc to get a vehicle from the motor pool, and drive it back to the shop for a quick escape. If the Medic told a single American, Aptmeyer had warned smugly, he would return to find his two friends killed. Also if he did not get back soon, the same fate would befall Saunders and Caje. It was a moral dilemma to end all moral dilemmas, but Doc was determined to make the right decision. He would get a truck and he would get back fast. No matter what the cost, Doc would succeed.

******

Second Lieutenant Gil Hanley looked up from his over flowing desk into Doc's drained face. The look on the medic's face startled the officer, who had not been expecting his sudden appearance in the room.

"What is it, Doc?" Hanley had never seen his usually laid back corpsman so tense. A tight knot of anxiety gripped his gut as the dark American allowed himself to imagine the worst.

"Uh, I need a truck, sir. That is, the Sarge needs a truck."

"A truck? What the heck does Saunders want with a truck?" Doc's answer had only left his lieutenant more confused than ever. And why did the Medic look so uncharacteristically uneasy?

"I just need one. The Sarge told me to come and ask for one. I really don't have an answer for you, sir. I reckon the Sarge knows why and that's what matters." Doc's impatient eyes pleaded with Hanley to quit asking questions and just grant his request.

"Alright, alright, Doc. If Saunders needs a truck that badly, I suppose he has a good reason for it. I'll give you a requisition and you can take it to the motor pool and get your vehicle."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Well, the Sarge is pretty rushed right now. I'd better go and get that truck before he gets mad. You know how he can get sometimes." The medic's sentences jumbled together as the man half walked and half ran out of the headquarters.

Gil Hanley's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he studied the fleeing Doc. Something was definitely very wrong; of that fact the officer was certain. Slowly and calmly, Lt. Hanley walked out of the building and began to trace Doc's path. He would find out what was the matter and see if he could be of any help. Doc was hiding something. Something terribly awful was brewing and Gil wanted to uncover it.

Hanley watched Doc's medical truck drive down the dusty street of the town. The deep foreboding that something was up again churned his stomach. Gil had learned long ago to never doubt a hunch in combat. He had discovered the hard way that sometimes a mere hunch could mean the difference between complete victory and a total failure. With a shrug of his shoulder, Hanley decided to go after Doc. What was there to lose if he was not right with his gut feeling? He could then go back to his paperwork with a clear conscience. The lanky officer moved toward the path Doc's truck had taken, his carbine slung haphazardly over his right shoulder.

Panting softly from the light exertion of jogging, Hanley smiled in relief as he spotted the familiar medical truck parked outside of a run down barbershop. It had not been easy tracking the retreating vehicle and the American was thankful that it had not gone very far. Anger took the place of worry as Gil realized that he did not hear a single sound from within the shop. His men were probably just relaxing between assignments, and Doc had come barging into his office as if it were the end of the world if he did not get that truck. They had all frightened him for nothing. Hanley's teeth gritted in righteous indignation as the officer stormed toward the shop. He would show them who was the leader. Saunders asked for a truck and now he was going to use it. There would be no more sleeping if there was work to be done.

******

A thin smile played upon Captain Aptmeyer's lips as he spied the approaching infuriated American lieutenant. Twice now he had been blessed with good fortune. This officer was walking right into his hands; the German could hardly believe his good luck. Backing away from the window, Aptmeyer prepared to jump the unsuspecting soldier.

"Doc, what is going on here and where is Saunders?" Rage melted into uncertainty as Hanley noticed two bandaged forms sprawled upon the shop floor. Doc's eyes betrayed his shock and anguish.

"Doc, is one of those men Saunders?" The lieutenant's voice cracked as his mind considered that possibility. Whoever was under those bandages was no doubt seriously injured. Gil Hanley prayed fervently that his close friend and NCO was not one of these unfortunate Joes. The expression on the corpsman's face confirmed the officer's darkest fears.

"It is Saunders, isn't it? Why didn't you tell me, Doc. I--" The long string of sentences was cut brutally short by a jolt of surprise as the lieutenant became acutely aware that the cold barrel of a gun was being pressed into his back.

"He did not inform you, Lieutenant, because I warned him of the severe consequences of doing so. Yes, that is your Sergeant Saunders on the floor, along with one of your other men. However, he is not hurt as badly as you may think. He is only suffering from a small concussion that I gave him because he did not heed my orders.

All of the bandages, as troublesome as they may be, are only for show, Lieutenant, and nothing more I assure you. No serious harm has come to these men, and no serious harm will come to your men unless you or your Medic does not abide by my wishes. My soldier and I only want to get safely back to our lines, Lieutenant. And, as I have said before, I have excellent insurance. Drop your weapon, Lieutenant, and put your hands behind your head." The suave voice hardened. "Now."

Hanley obeyed and the German captain ripped the American's web belt and helmet from him in one swift motion. Ecktmann, Captain Aptmeyer's man, stepped from out of the corner and casually stood with his gun at ready. The captain's plans were going so perfectly that the German did not want anything to disrupt it and cause a failure. There was too much at stake to let it be destroyed by any acts of carelessness.

The captain thought quickly as he surveyed the situation. Everything had been settled and ready to go before the lieutenant had walked through the door. What added advantages did he have now and what should he do with the officer? A soldier must always weigh his opportunities in a war. The German was a good judge of human character, and he could sense that this man was not going to be an easy soldier to handle. The prisoner stood mutely, with his hands clasped behind his neck, and starring off into nothing. The officer's dignity confused the captain: Here was a hostage who did not act like a hostage. For a brief minute, the lieutenant's emerald eyes bored into the captain's steel blue ones, as Hanley seemed to read Aptmeyer's inner anxieties and confirm them.

Klaus Aptmeyer took an unspoken challenge to better this man and break his will. No American had ever held the power to intimidate him before and no American ever would. They would soon see who was the captor and who was the prisoner.

I am in charge. Captain Aptmeyer reminded himself as he looked upon the grim face of his unsettling American hostage. I am in charge and I cannot let this simple American officer defeat my optimism. I will arrive safely back at my lines with Ecktmann and all four prisoners as well. If I let my guard down for a single moment, I will risk having a casualty. Klaus smiled at the irony of that thought. I already will be risking the American's lives when we get to the minefield. No need to risk any of them before the due time. As the German captain studied Second Lieutenant Gil Hanley, a clever idea dawned upon him. Yes, Aptmeyer chuckled softly, Yes, I think it will work. It will work and it will keep the lieutenant where I can watch him at all times.

"It is now time for us to depart for my lines, Lieutenant. As I said before, if both you and your corpsman abide by my wishes for the entire length of our journey, I will see to it that you are all treated fairly. However, if either of you choose to play, as you American's put it so vividly, the "hero" I will be forced to kill you all. You understand all of this, do you not, Lieutenant? A cruel sneer that showcased Aptmeyer's perfect white teeth added an exclamation point to the smooth as silk warning.

"Yes, " Hanley's baritone rang out even deeper than normal as it often did when he was either angry or filled with contempt. "Yes, I think I get the idea."

"I am glad to hear that, Lieutenant. Now, here is my plan."

Silence filled the barbershop as Klaus Aptmeyer explained his orders for the two dogfaces to perform. Doc looked over at his leader and gulped at the open raw passion he saw burning in Haney's eyes. No one knew better than Doc how much his leader hated helping the enemy in any way, but the Medic also knew that Gil Hanley would comply in order to save his two friends who lay bandaged like mummies on the floor. Would the lieutenant really aid the Germans, as Aptmeyer demanded? For himself, no he would not in a million lives; for his friends, he most certainly would try. Both Doc and the captain knew this very well. Hanley knew it also, and it only made him that much more furious at having to give in. But regardless of bitter feelings, he knew he would. Gilbert Hanley would do it for them.

******

Half an Hour Later

Hanley briskly slipped his long legs through the fabric of the German uniform pants. As the captain watched in mild amusement, he jammed his feet into the tight, unfamiliar jackboots and then moved on to the jacket. Gil secured the final button of the captain's officer garb, ran his thin fingers through his damp, sweaty hair, and turned to face Aptmeyer, who was already dressed in Hanley's attire.

It was all so simple, the calm captain had explained. Caje and Saunders would ride in the back of the truck, with Ecktmann guarding them. Doc would drive the vehicle and he, Captain Aptmeyer, would sit beside of him, outfitted with Hanley's uniform and tags. He would also carry Hanley's carbine, in case Doc got any "foolish" ideas of trying to foul up his scheme. Hanley would also travel in the front, placed on the right side of Klaus

as a German prisoner. The idea was simple but efficient; Captain Klaus Aptmeyer was willing to put his life on the line to bet that it was going to work.

"Now that you are properly clothed, Lieutenant, we should be on our way. A lengthy stay could bring some unwanted company upon us, which we want to avoid at all costs, no?" The German officer waved his hand at Ecktmann, who immediately strolled over, awaiting any instructions from his superior officer. Aptmeyer barked a short order to his soldier in German, handing him a web belt he had previously taken from one of his American captives. Ecktmann accepted the belt and moved toward Hanley. Unsure of the German's intentions, Hanley eyed the man warily.

"Please do not be worried, Lieutenant." The captain acknowledged Hanley's anxiety. "I merely told my soldier to bind your hands so that you will not make any stupid attempts at escape while we are making the trip back to our lines. With your hands free it would be a difficult task to keep a careful watch on both you and your Medic at the same time."

The German soldier reached out to methodically tie the officer's hands behind his back. After the task was completed, Ecktmann stepped back from Hanley and nodded to his captain.

"Let us leave now, Lieutenant. Only remember what I have told you and do not try to do anything stupid, "Aptmeyer pointed a finger at Haney's friends on the floor, "What happens to your kamerads

is entirely up to you and your Medic." The German did not find it necessary to threaten Hanley himself for he knew that the American's friends were what lay closest to his heart. If the battle-scarred soldier had one weakness, one soft spot in his soul, it was for the two men that Aptmyer held captive.

******

The lone medical truck zoomed down the road at a neck breaking speed as Doc pushed the accelerator almost to the limit. The thought had crossed his desperate mind of trying the cause the vehicle to collide with a tree or swerve into the ditch, but the German captain dressed in Hanley's clothing caused him to reconsider. Perhaps if he managed to catch the German off-guard, the Arkansas soldier pondered, he could somehow kill the kraut in the back and shake loose of Aptmeyer at the same time. The only problem was that the bound Hanley sat closest to the door instead of the captain, and Doc was afraid that the lieutenant would topple out or be injured by Klaus because of his disobedience. They had been stopped several times over by American sentries on the road, but after one look at the medical truck, "Lt. Hanley", and his "German prisoner" all the GIs had let them pass on by without a challenge. Although Hanley's presence complicated matters, the gentle Medic was strangely relieved that the Lt. could lift the burden off his shoulders. Surely the officer would find a way for them all to escape in his own time, Doc reasoned. There was no reason why he should have to make the first move unless it became necessary because being an infantry officer was a lot more in that line of work than an aidman.

"Stop the vehicle, Medic." Aptmeyer placed a firm, menacing hand on his shoulder, interrupting the Medic's thoughts. "We have arrived at my lines."

Hanley turned to look out of the window to his right and squinted in suspicion. "I don't see the German lines, Captain. All I see out there is a minefield."

Aptmeyer smiled a demented sneer as he opened the door of the parked truck, shoving Lt. Hanley out in front of him. "Exactly my point, Lieutenant. You are a very perceptive man. This is where "the rubber hits the road", ja?"

"You mean to tell me that you knew about this minefield all along and brought us here to clear it?" Doc clenched his fists in rage as he thought of the danger he had placed his best friends in by not making a stand against Aptmeyer.

"Exactly what I had in mind, Medic. Americans have used pigs or other animals to clear a perilous minefield in the past. But you Americans are not pigs, yes? You will be careful, yes?"

The deep emerald depths of Hanley's eyes darkened with fierce hatred, as the officer understood the meaning behind the enemy's words. The German expected Saunders, Caje, Doc, and possibly even himself to walk through a field of almost certain death or else they would all be shot. The insane kraut would murder them all without a single thought of remorse, of that Gil was certain. The infantryman's "mother hen" instinct kicked in strong as Hanley looked at the two Germans and his three men. The bandages had been removed from Saunders and Caje, but their hands were still bound like the lieutenant's. Doc alone remained free and Gil doubted if his comrade would have the guts to help him jump the Germans.

"Are you ready, Lt.? Or do you prefer your men to take the risk alone?" Aptmeyer gloated freely at his defeated prisoner. In his ignorance of the American, the kraut made the fatal error of underestimating his opponent.

"No, Captain. Neither my men nor I will go through that minefield. It is against the Geneva Convention and we are all official POW---" Hanley's argument was cut short by a powerful blow to his right cheekbone by Aptmeyer's gun butt.

"You will go now or you will DIE!"

Without warning, Saunders threw hself upon Ecktmann, but the guard shot the sergeant in the side. Turning to the Cajun next, the German shot Caje as well in the left shoulder. Both men crumpled to the ground without a sound as they fell. Hanley took the moment of confusion to tackle Aptmeyer and managed to knock him to the dry earth by the force of his weight alone.

"Doc, help me!" Hanley knew that he couldn't fight off the armed German forever with his hands bound. Sooner or later Klaus would right himself and then the he would be shot. Gathering his last ounce of courage, Doc hit the German guard Ecktmann with a handy rock and ripped the rifle away from the unconscious soldier to point it at the Captain.

"Throw down your gun, Captain! If you don't I'll shoot!" For a brief moment fear flickered across the German's features, but it soon faded away to be replaced by contempt.

"I do not think that you shall, Corpsman." Klaus sat up and pulled Hanley up with him, shoving the barrel of his weapon to the officer's head. "For if you kill me, you will also put an end to your commander's life as well. Also, I do not think of you as the kind of man who would have the spirit to shoot another, even in war." Aptmeyer turned to look into Gil Hanley's angry gaze. "He is not like us, now is he Lieutenant? We are alike you and I, both killers. I do not doubt that you would kill me if you had the weapon, but not him."

With a swift hard kick, Hanley's boot struck the German's knee, causing him to cry out in pain. Doc took this quick minute of good fortune to strike the captain down with the gun. It was over at last. The whole terrible ordeal was past.

Ten Minutes Later

Doc had tended Saunders and Caje as efficiently as possible under the circumstances and then they had been carried to the truck. Hanley again donned his own uniform and carried the weapon. Aptmeyer and Ecktmann were sitting in the back of the truck with the Lt. and Doc was again driving, this time back to their lines. Aptmeyer glared at the relaxing GI.

"You are very lucky, American. I did not watch you carefully enough it seems. You could never have defeated me if your Medic would have been forced to shoot me. We both know that he is not capable of such a deed." Hanley did not grace the remark with a reply and the German fell silent.

As he covered his prisoners and looked out of the truck, Gil realized that he had to agree with the German. He had seen the hesitation in Doc's eyes and he doubted if the man could have actually killed another human being. Aptmeyer had said it the best: Hanley and the German were soldiers trained to kill. They would do anything to survive but Doc was a healer. To end the life of even an enemy would have destroyed him inside. Hanley smiled to himself. It was good for Doc that he had come along and delivered the first strike. The poor Medic could never have gotten them out otherwise...