Chapter 7:
Kinch paced back and forth near the piano, where Kalina was playing something written by Bach. The sergeant looked down at his watch. It had only been ten minutes since Hogan left camp with Yamamura, and he was already feeling an internal panic attack rising within him. He frantically perused the crowd for Newkirk for what felt like forever, when he finally spotted the Englishman serving some brandy to a guard, who was probably not in any condition to drink anymore alcohol. Kinch snapped his fingers to grab Newkirk's attention, then gestured with his finger to come to him.
After making sure the guard was not going to spill his drink all over the floor, Newkirk flung a white towel over his shoulder and made his way to his friend. "What is it, mate?" He asked.
"We need a distraction long enough for the Colonel to get Yamamura to the hidden airfield and back to camp before Bäumle notices he's missing," Kinch said, in a hushed tone.
Newkirk stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black pants as he pursed his lips and tried to think of an idea, but nothing came to him with the loud talking and music playing in the background. He shook his head and turned to face Kinch again. "I got nothing, mate; do you?"
Kinch rubbed his chin as he licked his lips and scanned the room to find anything that might make a lightbulb turn on in his head. He spotted Klink's living room furnace and noticed the small wheel shape in the middle that opened enough to put a poking stick through. Seeing that it was turned off, the lightbulb Kinch had been searching for finally turned on.
"Just one," he said. He waved his finger for Newkirk to follow him, and the duo made their way to Carter, who was helping a woozy Langenscheidt to sit down in a chair and rest for a moment. He looked up when he spotted the two of his friends approaching him, then joined them in a corner away from Bäumle and the others.
"What's going on, guys?" Carter asked curiously.
"I need you to pretend that your fingers are stuck in the small openings of Klink's furnace. Just long enough to give the Colonel time to get Yamamura to the secret airfield and back to camp before Bäumle realizes he's gone," Kinch told him quietly.
Carter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Stick my fingers in the furnace; but what do I say when Bäumle asks how they got in there?"
"Say you misplaced Kalina's picture of Klink and were checking to make sure you didn't throw it in there with other scraps of paper to be burned later," Kinch said.
"But Kalina doesn't go anywhere without that picture in one of her pockets."
"She forgot to put it in her white cardigan's pockets when changing for the party. It was lying on top of the table with a bunch of other papers, and you might have accidentally grabbed it and thrown it into the furnace with the other paper scraps."
Carter again looked at the furnace, let out a silent breath full of reluctance, then nodded sadly. "Alright, I'll do it," he answered meekly. He walked over to the furnace, got on his knees, then squeezed his right pointer and middle fingers into one of the small crevices in the center wheel shape openings. He pretended to try and pull his fingers out, when he felt a forceful tug on his fingers. His eyes widened a bit as he tried again, harder this time, but they would not budge. He was actually stuck in the furnace. He felt the overwhelming rise of anxiety inside his body as he tried several times to get his fingers unstuck, but nothing happened other than sharp pain resulting in the tight pressure on his bones and joints.
The young sergeant looked up at Kinch and Newkirk, his blue eyes blazing with sincere fear. "Kinch," he whispered frantically. "I'm actually stuck."
"You're what?" Newkirk exclaimed quietly.
"My fingers must have been bigger than I expected. I can't get 'em to budge a bit," Carter answered, again trying to tug his fingers out, but the pain was so excruciating it made him want to scream for help.
"Bloody hell, Andrew. Why do yah always gotta be the damsel in distress?"
"Nevermind that; Peter, get Louis. We're gonna need more help now than I originally planned for," Kinch ordered.
"Right, mate." Newkirk hurried into the kitchen to grab LeBeau, while Kinch looked back to Carter and knelt down beside his younger counterpart, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder for comfort as Carter again tried to yank his fingers out of the furnace.
"Andrew, now just stay calm. The more you squirm, the worse you might make it," Kinch told him calmly.
"HELP! HELP! I'M STUCK; SOMEBODY GET ME OUT OF HERE!" Carter screamed, the fear becoming too much for him to stand anymore. He again tried to yank his fingers out, Kinch reaching over to grab the sergeant's hand. He tried to help Carter pull his fingers out, but they were nicely lodged inside the crevice. The radioman grunted as Carter yelped every now and then in pain.
"Holy cats, Andrew. You got them jammed in there good," Kinch remarked, clenching his eyes and teeth as he continued to try and help his friend get his fingers out. Soon they were being joined by Bäumle, a few other guards still somewhat sober, and Kalina, who got down on her knees beside Kinch and looked at both of her friends with genuine concern.
"What in God's name is going on here?" Bäumle demanded, his voice filled with crystal clear irritation as he glared his blazing dark eyes at the three on the floor.
"Carter misplaced Kalina's picture of her father and was trying to see if he accidentally threw it in here along with the scraps you told him to get rid of earlier," Kinch said calmly, still trying to tug his friend's fingers out of the furnace.
Kalina's blue eyes widened to the size of saucers and felt her vision begin to blur as she frantically patted and dug through her cardigan's pockets to make sure the radioman was wrong. When she felt the familiar texture of her father's picture in her left pocket, she realized this was just a diversion to keep everyone's attention away from Hogan's absence. Somewhat satisfied, she put on her best acting job and let faux tears fall down her cheeks.
"Where is it?!" She screamed. "What did you do with it?! Find it!"
"Why didn't the blasted dummkopf just open the furnace door to check?" Bäumle spat.
"I didn't wanna get ash all over Colonel Klink's newly cleaned carpets," Carter answered, he and Kinch still trying to pull his fingers free. "He would throw me into the cooler for the rest of my life if I soiled it."
Bäumle shook his head in disapproval as Newkirk left the kitchen with LeBeau following from behind. The two of them knelt down on the other side of Carter and examined the situation. LeBeau clicked his tongue while shaking his head.
"Oh no," he said. "That is très mal, mon ami."
"You two know a way to get his fingers out? I can't get those suckers dislodged no matter how hard I tug and pull," Kinch stated.
LeBeau shrugged his shoulders. "I could try using butter to make his fingers more slippery. My grandmother always did that if my grandfather got his hand stuck while fixing his car," he suggested.
"And if that doesn't work, I'll be forced to have one of the guards saw your fingers out." Bäumle replied, crossing his arms.
Carter's eyes bugged out of their sockets as the color from his face began to drain. "Saw them out!" He exclaimed. "But you might cut one of my fingers off if you do that!"
"It will be a nice reminder of your stupid decision then."
The young sergeant swallowed a large knot down his throat and began to quiver as LeBeau ran back into the kitchen for a stick of butter, Kinch and Newkirk both now trying to help Carter pull his fingers out. "I think I'd rather be stuck like this, then," he muttered to himself, with a quiver.
Hogan and Yamamura moved swiftly through the darkness, hiding every once in a while behind trees or shrubbery when they heard nearby rustling. After realizing it was nothing more than the wind or a small animal, they continued on their route to the secret airfield in the middle of nowhere. The two officers hid behind a few bushes as they waited for the airplane to arrive. It was not long before the faint sound of rumbling came from above.
Hogan looked up at the sky, spotted the plane approaching, then gave the pilot the code with a flashlight. One blue. One white. Two more blue. He received four flashes of white back and grinned from ear to ear as the plane began its descent and finally landed on the ground.
Once checking to make sure the coast was clear, Hogan escorted Yamamura to the plane, exchanged thank yous and salutes, then the colonel stayed until the plane took off and headed back for London.
Smiling at another successful assignment, Hogan headed back into the forest and made his way back for Stalag 13.
Kinch had his arms strapped underneath Carter's, while Newkirk and LeBeau tugged on the young sergeant's right arm to try and free him. Half of the stick of butter had been rubbed onto what LeBeau could reach of Carter's fingers, and the most they had gotten was a slight budge, but nothing major. And as Hogan's men grunted and pulled, Kalina knelt down by Carter's left biting her thumb, and Bäumle stood behind them while gazing down with disgust. It was his special night to celebrate his start at Stalag 13, and he was standing there with Schultz and four drunk guards watching a bunch of prisoners trying to free their friend from a heater's grasp.
"Damn it, Andrew; pull!" Newkirk exclaimed, through gritted teeth.
"I'm trying!" Carter shouted back, in pain.
LeBeau began to mumble something rapidly in French, causing Newkirk to turn to his French counterpart with an irritated glare.
"For crying out loud, Louis, don't speak bloody French at a time like this!"
Kalina wrung her hands together, her concern rising for one of her American friends. She turned to Kinch with worry screaming in her eyes. "Maybe I should go and get Sergeant Wilson from the infirmary," she finally said.
"Or maybe the fire department," Heinrich suggested, standing behind his commanding officer as he looked on at the scene while sipping on a glass of brandy. "Might take a crowbar and welding torch to get that poor kid's hand out."
Bäumle slowly turned his unamused gaze to his assistant, causing Heinrich to instantly straighten his position and slightly shake under his boss' stare. "Did anyone ask for your opinion?" He remarked snippy. He got a frightful shake of the head for response, then the captain looked back at Hogan's men and gnarled his teeth. "Dummkopfs. I am surrounded by a bunch of dummkopfs."
It was then Hogan again appeared in the living room. He spotted the chaos before him and turned his eyes to the ceiling with mercy. He looked back at his men and Kalina, put his fists on his hips, and shook his head with disbelief. "I leave to go to the bathroom for four minutes, and you already got yourselves into some sort of trouble," he said, parental-like. "I can't leave you guys alone for a single second."
"Colonel! Bäumle says he's gonna use a saw to get me out of here. Don't let him use a saw on me, Colonel. I like having all ten of my fingers." Carter pleaded, his blue eyes begging for help.
"Got his bloomin' fingers stuck while trying to see if he didn't accidentally throw Kalina's picture of the Kommandant in here," Newkirk reported, exchanging the hidden message to Hogan with a knowing gaze.
Hogan, though understanding this was just a diversion for his sake, shook his head and let out a heavy sigh before looking back at his boys. "Carter," he began. "Why didn't you just open the door to check and see?"
"I uh...didn't wanna soil Klink's newly cleaned carpets," the technical sergeant answered, turning red with slight embarrassment.
"We've tried everything from yankin' and pullin' to putting a bunch of butter on Andrew's fingers to try and slide them out that way." Newkirk added.
"We can't get them to move an inch. Frankly, we're out of ideas," Kinch said.
The colonel pursed his lips as he wrapped his arms around himself and thought of a solution. After what felt like forever, one finally came to him, and he nodded. "I got it." He turned to LeBeau. "LeBeau, grab a bar of soap and a bucket of water. Between that and the butter, Carter's fingers should slide out in less than a minute."
"Oui, Colonel," the short corporal said, and hurried back into the kitchen to follow orders.
Kalina bit her lip and turned her eyes up to Hogan. "Are you sure you don't want me to grab Sergeant Wilson? This might need medical attention to solve."
"If anyone needs medical attention, it's me for the massive migraine that's beginning to settle in," Bäumle retorted, then began to rub his temples in circles. "Or a two week stay at a rest camp."
"Would you like me to prepare the car, Herr Kommandant?" Heinrich asked readily.
Bäumle felt his blood pressure begin to rise as he looked off to the left and tried to keep his temper in check. "Shut. Up."