This story is shamelessly adapted from "Oh, Mr. Porter," a very funny 1937 movie featuring the legendary British humorist Will Hay. (Copyright has expired.) My main contribution was to recognize that it makes for a very plausible Hogan's Heroes sketch and to proceed accordingly. Plus, I hate springing forward and fully empathize with the confusion generated by this vile practice. Daylight savings time, or summer time in European parlance, was a byproduct of World War I, and the Americans, British and French stuck with it after the war. The Germans did not, but they did reinstate it during World War II.
"How soon is that train coming through here, anyway?" LeBeau was grousing softly as he, Newkirk and Carter felt along the rails in the dark of night to wire the tracks with explosives. For what seemed to be the umpteenth time, their target was the Berlin Express.
Everyone was grumpier than usual, thanks to the time switch two nights earlier, but Newkirk was the worst. He slept fitfully under the best of circumstances, and changing the clocks had done his mood no favors.
"What do you mean, how soon?" he snapped at LeBeau. "Like the Colonel said, it's running an hour late tonight. It's always scheduled for five minutes past 11, so it'll be five minutes past midnight. We have about an hour." Newkirk turned to Carter and spread more joy. "Get on with it, Carter, we haven't all night," he snarled. He watched apprehensively and wished fervently for a smoke as Carter laid down his wires.
"This whole thing would be easier if we just blew up the tracks," Carter grumbled.
"It certainly would be," Newkirk agreed. "But you heard the Colonel as well as I did. We can't let those VIP passengers through. We've got to destroy at least the first three carriages, where the first-class passengers ride."
"We just switched to summer time, though," LeBeau said. "That makes a difference."
"Oh, right," Newkirk said pensively, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. "Summer time started, so clocks were adjusted accordingly. Well, then, we've more time. Two hours, actually." Why hadn't the Colonel mentioned this?
"How do you figure we have two hours?" Carter asked tentatively. He hated questioning Newkirk, even when he suspected he was wrong. The man had conviction in spades and could put up a hell of a fight when contradicted.
"Well, you put the clocks back, and the train's an hour late. That's two hours, innit?"
"No, you put the clocks forward and the train back," Carter said.
Newkirk frowned. "Well what do you get then?" he asked irritably.
"You get the express coming any minute," LeBeau put in.
Newkirk rounded on him. "What are you talking about? If the train's an hour late, how can it be coming now?"
"Like you said, Newkirk, it's daylight savings time," Carter said. Both men stared at him coolly. "Summer time," he translated for the sake of the Europeans. "For Pete's sake, don't be snobs. You know perfectly well what I mean," Carter added.
"Summer time," Newkirk scoffed. "You've gone round the bend, mate. Summer time or winter time, it don't matter. If a train's late, it's late"
"Yeah, but you put the clocks forward," Carter said.
Newkirk's expression made plain that he thought that was ludicrous. "If the clocks go forward, then the train's already gone," he said slowly, as if speaking to the class dunce.
"Non, non, non, you put the clocks back," LeBeau interjected.
"Of course you do," Newkirk said triumphantly. "You lengthen the day by taking an hour off the end and sticking it at the beginning."
"No. You take an hour off the beginning and stick it at the end," LeBeau said.
"That's winter time!" Newkirk was clearly exasperated.
"No, in winter time you put them back," Carter said.
"That's what I said!" Newkirk's eye rolls were now audible.
"You said you put them back in summer time," Carter said
"That's right," Newkirk said optimistically. Perhaps they were catching on.
"But it's not right. When it's daylight savings time, um, I mean summer time, you put the clocks forward and make the train early," Carter insisted.
"I know what I'm talking about," Newkirk said in a vicious staccato. "You Don't. Put. The Clocks. Forward. You put 'em back. You put the train back." He thumped Carter's shoulder for emphasis.
"I see. You put everything back," Carter said thoughtfully.
"Yes," Newkirk said with a sigh. Blimey, why was Carter so thick?
"I'm sorry. You're right," Carter said.
"Of course I'm right," Newkirk said haughtily. "The train won't be here for another two hours."
Carter nodded and bent down to inspect his workmanship one last time. "OK, looking good," he said. "Boy, I'm sorry we're gonna miss it, because that baby is gonna blow sky-high! Ka-BOOM!"
Carter continued his sound effects as the trio gathered up their supplies and cleared off from the tracks. Suddenly, their heads spun in unison as they heard a shrill whistle sounding in the distance. They looked up and felt a whoosh of air. It was the Berlin Express, coming right toward them. They bolted as far from the track bed as they could, and they moved with remarkable speed. But they couldn't avoid the shower of metal, splinters and hot coal embers that rained down on them as they ran.
"That's your fault," Newkirk nagged Carter as they ran breathlessly toward camp.
"MY fault? How can you blame me?" Carter said incredulously.
"I said all along we should have put the clocks forward," Newkirk replied.