Several hours later, Newkirk found himself busily enlarging the biggest Gestapo uniform on the rack he could find. This Munster character made Schultz's outfit look kiddie size. He would have to work like lightning to pull this off before sundown like Hogan wanted. Herman stood nearby with assorted tape measures thrown over both shoulders. Whenever he could, Newkirk stole a glance at the giant figure. What made this job even harder was that every time he tried to size Herman up, he swore he saw stitching in the man's skin. He shuddered and continued working. Wherever this behemoth came from, he didn't want to know.

While Newkirk continued his rush job, LeBeau slaved over the hot stove, stirring up by far the strangest mixture of ingredients he had ever used. Colonel Hogan had given the order, do whatever Grandpa asked, and this is what Grandpa asked. But powdered kangaroo tongues and ground crows' feet? Where the man got these ingredients he'd never know, and he had no intention of asking, either. As the liquid heated up, it changed from brown to blue and began to froth and bubble. He stirred the mixture until he became vaguely aware of someone watching him. Whirling around, he found Grandpa leaning over his shoulder. Grandpa grinned and rubbed his hands together.

"Very good, my boy! I'll make a mad scientist out of you yet!"

"What are you going to do with this? Poison Hochstetter?"

"Of course not! You're going to drink it."

"WHAT!"

Grandpa chuckled.

"Don't worry. I'm just using it to throw a scare into those guards around the front gate. Keep stirring!"

And LeBeau stirred until after evening roll call, when the liquid had become bright blue and thick as molasses. During the nightly change of the guards, Hogan had Grandpa and Herman emerge from upstairs. With the dark uniform and skull-and-crossbones insignia, Herman's sunken face seemed all the more intimidating. Beside him stood Newkirk in a similar uniform.

"I'm still not quite sure what we're trying to accomplish here, Colonel," said Carter.

"Simple," Hogan replied, "we're gonna throw such a scare into the Krauts that our friends here'll be able to hop in Klink's car and drive away like a German general. Everyone know their posts?"

"Yessir," came the unanimous response.

"Great. Let's get going."

One by one, each prisoner except for Newkirk and Herman crept out the barracks door, dodged the wandering searchlights, and scattered to various hiding places throughout the camp. While they did so, Grandpa hovered over LeBeau's pot of boiling liquid. Passing his hand over it, he muttered a few strange words.

"Alla-kazee, alla-kazog. Muddle these guards with mists and fog."

As he spoke, the liquid began to evaporate and rise as a dense fog that floated straight towards the open window. The fog wove between the buildings and settled over the camp. In about ten minutes, the mist had grown so thick, the only visible object from the barracks was the light in Klink's quarters and the occasional shadow of a guard passing by the window.

"Alright, men," Hogan mumbled to himself, "show them what you've got."

Moments later, a piercing wail near the rec hall broke the eerie silence, followed by the distinct imitation of a wolf howl at the far end of the camp. A series of equally terrifying yelps and shrieks sounded from various locations inside and outside the camp. Schultz, who had dozed off and become oblivious to the thickening fog, suddenly woke up to a snarl several feet away. He gulped and let out a whimper.

"Colonel Hogan?"

Instead, the continued chorus and wails and screams reached his ears. His rifle clattered through his trembling fingers to the ground as he leaped up and stumbled towards the nearest building, Klink's office. This was worth reporting to the Kommandant, right? As he bumped and tripped his way to the light in the window, he stretched out one hand and found the Kommandant's staff car. Somewhere in the compound, a door slammed. Schultz squinted his eyes, barely making out three dark figures emerging from Barracks 2. Two of the figures seemed normal enough, but the third towered nearly nine feet tall. Schultz shuddered but stayed rooted to the ground as the figures shuffled near them. The giant and the second man who looked vaguely familiar were dressed in Gestapo uniforms. Between them, they pulled along a man who kept his head down.

"Sergeant!" yelled the smaller officer in a thick German accent, "Ve must take zis prisoner to Berlin at vonce! Give us ze key to ze staff car!"

Like a robot, Schultz fished in his pockets for the key. He froze as the group stopped by the driver's door of the car. That giant. He'd seen that officer before in the barracks. Schultz swayed, on the verge of fainting. The second officer shoved Schultz aside and, with the key in his hand (which Schultz didn't remember handing him) he yanked the backseat door open. The giant and prisoner both climbed inside. The second officer sat behind the wheel and, without another word, sped off towards the front gate, which opened immediately at the sight of Klink's car. Schultz stared at the wall of fog where the car had disappeared. Finally, he shook his head and mumbled to himself,

"I know nothing, nothing."