The next morning after roll call; Carter, LeBeau, and Newkirk leaned against the fence of the makeshift paddock, moping as they watched the five horses milling about the small space. Now that they were out in daylight, the mares looked more gorgeous than before. All five horses were pure grey, not a blemish to be seen. Their wavy, flaxen manes and tails shone in the morning sunlight. For some time, the prisoners regarded the animals in silence. Carter was the first to speak.
"It just doesn't seem right, keeping such beautiful creatures locked up in a rat hole like this."
LeBeau reached out his hand to stroke one horse across the shoulder as it walked by.
"You're right, Andre. They should be out running in a green pasture somewhere."
"If they go to the front, they'll forget what the color green looks like," said Newkirk.
As if in response, the smallest horse stretched its neck across the fence and snuffled in his face. Newkirk smiled at the feel of warm breath through his hair. Carter fingered the horse's mane, fighting back a growl of frustration. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.
"We can't just stand here and let the Germans take them. There has to be a way to get them out of here."
"But Andrew, you 'eard the Guv'nor," Newkirk replied, "'E says there's no way we can possibly sneak 'em out without gettin' caught."
"I'm with Carter," LeBeau said. "We must do something. The boshe don't deserve animals like this."
"But 'ow are we gonna save 'em without the Colonel knowing?" asked Newkirk.
Carter, with his fingers still entwined in the horse's mane, grew pensive for a moment. Then he brightened up and replied,
"I know. They're all white, right? So, we paint them with black spots and dress them up to look like cows. Now, when the krauts take a look at them, they'll think the horses got switched out with a bunch of lousy cows. Then, ol' Klink won't have any choice but to sell them to some local farmer. And that's it! The horses are saved!"
LeBeau winced. Newkirk swatted his American friend playfully over the head.
"Well, what's wrong with my idea?" Carter insisted.
Before anyone could respond, they were interrupted by an obnoxious bellowing from a portly sergeant.
"Was ist los? Everybody back, back, back! No touching the horses!"
"Come on, Schultzie," LeBeau whined. "We were just looking."
"I'm sorry, LeBeau," Schultz replied, "but no prisoners are allowed near these horses by orders of the Kommandant."
"Hey, what's that in your hand Schultz?" asked Carter, "a pitchfork?"
"Ja. This paddock must be cleaned every day, also by orders of the Kommandant."
The rotund sergeant stole a glance in the paddock and grimaced.
"What a crazy war," he grumbled, "I'm supposed to be guarding prisoners. Instead, here I am raking up horse manure!"
"All a part of being a soldier, Shultz," Newkirk quipped as he led his friends toward the barracks.
Schultz muttered a few words to himself as he shuffled through the paddock gate. Meanwhile, Kinch joined the rest of the team beside the door to Barracks 2.
"You know, Carter," said Newkirk, "Your idea wasn't half bad."
"Really?"
"You're joking," LeBeau scoffed.
"What idea?" asked Kinch.
"You don't want to hear it, believe me," LeBeau said.
"Not the whole thing," Newkirk continued, "just the part about disguising the 'orses. If we can convince Klink that 'e's holding the wrong 'orses, we may be able to sneak 'em out."
"That's not a bad idea," Carter agreed.
"But what about the Colonel?" said Kinch. "How do we convince him it'll work?"
"Right," said Carter, "remember, he ordered us to leave those horses alone."
"Ordered, mate? 'E never ordered anything. Look, why don't we pull this one off ourselves? We've been workin' under the Colonel long enough to know 'ow these missions work. And when the 'orses are safe, 'e'll have to congratulate us on a job well done."
"Hey, that's great, Newkirk," LeBeau said. "I've got plenty of paint stored in the workshop down below. Why don't we use some of that?"
The four men scurried eagerly into the barracks to make the arrangements. Kinch hurried to the radio room to wire London. LeBeau followed him to fetch the cans of paint. Newkirk and Carter stayed behind in the barracks to plan a proper diversion for the job.
"What if we set off some harmless explosives near the paddock? That should keep the Germans away for a while," Carter offered.
Newkirk smirked.
"Andrew, from what I know of 'orses, I don't think they'll appreciate the noise."
Carter grew somber for a moment, then brightened up again.
"I have an idea. What if we set up some fireworks on the other side of the camp? Then the guards'll think they're under attack, and they'll be so busy firing back, they won't notice us near the horses!"
"They won't notice you near what?" echoed a stern voice.
Carter stiffened and twisted his head around. Colonel Hogan loomed over him with arms crossed and a grim expression. At the same time, the bunk bed snapped open and LeBeau crawled out, brandishing an armload of paint cans.
"I was right, we have more than enough paint to cover the…"
He trailed off as he fixed his gaze on Hogan, who glared down at him. Hogan spoke first.
"Please don't tell me that paint is meant for those horses."
All three men hung their heads.
"Well," said Carter, "I guess it was. Of course, it sounds pretty silly when you put it like that."
"It's not silly, Carter, it's absolutely ridiculous! Even Klink'll never fall for that. And besides, I thought I told you guys to leave those animals alone."
"But we can't, Colonel. Ignoring those horses would be a war crime," LeBeau pleaded.
"And besides," Newkirk argued, "you never actually ordered us."
"That's right," said Carter. "You take care of that code book and we'll save the horses. It'll be a win-win."
Hogan shook his head.
"I'm sorry, fellas, but there's no way those horses can leave this camp. If they do, it'll cause a commotion. Klink will double the guard and we'll never get this code book to the Underground. As much as I hate to say it, those horses are going to the front and that's that. Case closed."
Feeling the icy glares from his men, he sighed and walked back towards his quarters, but stopped in the doorway.
"Wait a minute," he muttered.
At those words, the heroes brightened up a touch. Hogan turned around slowly.
"Supposing those horses did leave this camp, and took the code book with them. Does anyone here know anything about horses?"
"I rode a pony once when I was ten," Carter offered. "It was for my birthday."
"We need something more substantial than that Carter," Hogan replied. "Newkirk? How about you? You worked at a circus, didn't you?"
"That's right, I did. But I always kept a safe distance between me and those trick 'orses."
"So, nobody can help us out, here?"
Silence reigned in the barracks as no one wanted to admit their ignorance on the subject.
Finally, LeBeau gave a hesitant shrug.
"Well, my uncle Emile makes saddles. I used to watch him work when I was a boy. He would take me to the farms and I would watch him fit the saddles properly."
"Could you work on one yourself?"
"I don't know. Possibly."
A smug grin inched across Hogan's face.
"That's all we need. Newkirk, tell Kinch to wire London."
"'E's already on it, sir."
"Then tell him to tell London to send a cargo ship disguised as a German vessel. And tell them to pack plenty of oats."