It might have been possible to get another plane to come pick up the downed pilot and the film. But if something already hadn't worked twice, maybe it was time to try something different.
In Newkirk's absence, LeBeau had been tasked to whip up a disguise for their temporary guest in the tunnel, as well as to sew the film securely into the lining of the coat he would be wearing. Gordon would be leaving the camp in the back of the dog truck dressed as a not-too-well-heeled local, with LeBeau's tailoring mimicking the usual ill-fitting clothes the typical working-class folk in the Hammelburg area were able to scrounge up in wartime. Gordon wasn't going to win any prizes for fashion on his way out of Germany, but he had a pretty good chance of getting out alive. Their luck had to turn soon. Nobody could roll snake-eyes every time.
"The bad news is that you're traveling by dog truck," Kinch began the usual pre-escape briefing, to ensure that all the details were covered and well understood.
Gordon chuckled. "I just got shot outta the sky, don't forget. A dog truck sounds pretty good to me right now. Actually, even a dog sled would be okay."
"The bartender at the Hausnerhof is our contact. His name is Georg. The recognition code is 'Do you have a light?', and he'll reply 'Sorry, I quit smoking last month'. He'll give you directions to the next stop on the escape route. If all goes well you should be back in London in a couple days, and you'll have a great story to tell your girl after the war."
"I could use one where I end up looking good. She sure didn't like the one I told her about the Hollywood Canteen."
"I might," LeBeau put in as he put the final touches on the side seam of the coat. "Try me."
"You got a girl at home?"
"Several," the Frenchman smiled with self-confidence.
"Then trust me… if you're ever at the Hollywood Canteen and you've got a choice between having your picture taken with your arm around Betty Grable or Eddie Cantor, pick Cantor. I sent my girl a copy of the photo of me and Betty, and she didn't write to me for a month."
Carter joined them just then in the standard after-dark outfit of head-to-toe black. "The guards are getting ready for the shift change."
"That's the best time to sneak you out," LeBeau told Gordon. "While the guards are changing over, we'll bring you up through the kennel and right into the back of Schnitzer's truck. Don't worry about the dogs; they're tame."
"I'll take your word for it."
"Go up with Carter," Kinch directed. "He'll tell you when to move. Hey, Andrew, Gordon here was just telling us he once met Betty Grable."
Carter's eyes just about fell out of his head. "No kiddin'? Honest?"
Gordon grinned. "I sure like your reaction better than my girl's. Yeah, I even put my arm around her." He held up his right hand.
"That one?" To Gordon's nod, Carter grasped his hand and shook it almost reverently. "This is a real honor…" His voice broke. "You have no idea…"
"Can we finish the war now, Andrew?" Kinch asked. "You'll be fine, Gordon. Carter won't let anything happen to you."
"Not to that hand, at least," LeBeau added.
Schnitzer's truck had parked in the usual spot, right in front of the kennel gate, and he was already in the process of changing out the dogs. It took only a few seconds - the right few seconds; the ones where there was no searchlight or nearby guard monitoring the goings-on - for Gordon to climb up out from underneath the hinged doghouse and into the back of the van. He waved back to Carter - using that hand - then Schnitzer secured the door on the back of the truck, and climbed into the driver's seat.
A couple of minutes later, the truck approached the front gate, and LeBeau and Kinch watched through the rain-barrel periscope. More accurately, Kinch watched: LeBeau paced and waited for a blow-by-blow description. 'He's in the truck' was followed by 'The truck's at the gate', but then there was too long a silence for the Frenchman's liking.
"Well?" he finally demanded.
"So far so good. They're past the front gate. No alarm, no nothing."
"You don't mean to tell me it worked?"
"Looks that way. I wish you didn't sound so surprised."
"Moi aussi."
Carter emerged from the tunnel to join them. "Gordon's out, and the truck's away."
"They say the third time's the charm."
"Is this only the third time? It feels like we've been working on just this one thing for six months." But hard as he tried to find something wrong, even Kinch finally had to admit that it looked like the coast was clear. He lowered the faucets back down into their normal position above the sink. "Okay… so maybe we can finally close the book on Gordon and that film. But I'll only really believe it when he sends us a postcard from London."
"You should think more positively." But then LeBeau went clear around his own advice and went to take a look through the periscope himself. "Just to make sure." Kinch had very nearly made the decision to move on to the next item on the agenda when LeBeau's voice stopped him cold. "Uh oh…"
"What, 'uh oh'?"
"It's not Gordon. It's Schultz. He's back. Just came through the gate. He looks upset."
"How upset?"
The faint sound of a motorcycle outside became increasingly louder. "Upset enough to come straight here instead of stopping at the motor pool."
"Guess we'd better let him in, then."
Schultz hadn't been expecting that; after getting off the bike and running to the barracks door he ended up barreling through the suddenly and unexpectedly open doorway like a small truck with no brakes, and he nearly bounced off the stove. "To what do we owe this pleasure?" Kinch asked casually, as if all of what had just happened was perfectly normal.
"Newkirk…!" was the only word Schultz could manage to force out of his mouth.
"Great guy."
"He is not here…!"
"By golly, you're right. I thought it seemed pretty quiet around the barracks for some reason. That must be it."
Schultz took a deep breath and tried yet again. "He is working at the artillery installation! In a…" Here he paused for the strength to articulate the terrible truth. "In a German uniform!"
LeBeau shook his head. "Pas possible. It can't be Newkirk if he's working."
"Look, Schultz, I don't know what you think you saw over there, but Newkirk is right here, in the cooler," Kinch assured him. "Klink gave him three days. There's nothing to worry about."
"But… but I saw him…!"
"Have you been hitting the beer garden before going on duty, big fella?" Carter made a 'for shame' motion with his two index fingers. "Schultz… I'm surprised at you."
"You've been working too hard, Schultz", Kinch assured him. "What would Newkirk be doing at the artillery installation? Look… why don't you bring the motorcycle back to the motor pool where it belongs, then go on over to the cooler and see for yourself."
They could almost hear the gears turning in Schultz's head. He wanted so much to believe them that he was almost immediately ready to disbelieve what he'd already seen with his own eyes and take their words for established fact. "You… you think so?"
"We know so. You know Klink. Newkirk'll get the whole three days, but after that he'll be right back in the barracks where he belongs. Go take a look if you don't believe us."
"Ja… I go take a look…"
"Motor pool first," LeBeau added.
"Ja…" He backed out of the barracks door, walking very gingerly, seemingly afraid that if he caused any further disruption it might be enough to upset the newly-established balance, to foul up a case of events that was so much better than it had looked when he'd first come in.
As soon as the door was closed, LeBeau turned to Kinch. "You think he'll really check?"
"Maybe not. He might be too scared that it's not true and doesn't really want to find out for sure. But just in case, tell Garlotti to put on Newkirk's uniform and access solitary confinement from the tunnel; cover up on the cot with a couple of blankets, stick one arm out, and make it look good. Schultz won't try and wake him up; if he does dare go check, he'll be too relieved to see what he thinks is Newkirk in there in the first place... he won't press his luck."
"How are we going to get Newkirk back?" Carter asked. "I mean, for real."
"I'm entertaining any and all suggestions. They must be watching him pretty closely or he would have managed to get away on his own by now. Now that Gordon's safely on his way to London, we can put Newkirk back on the front burner."