Per Major Hochstetter's announcement at morning roll call, the prisoners were confined to barracks and expressly forbidden to look out any doors or windows. Naturally, Hogan's men had obliged, and they were instead taking turns at the rain-barrel periscope. Nobody could accuse them of not following orders.

Kinch in particular had been keeping a sharp eye on the radio detection truck with its spinning antenna which was again parked just outside Klink's office. "If that thing goes around any faster, that rig could take off," he remarked.

"Let's hope it does," Newkirk nodded. "That'd solve a few of our problems all right."

"I don't think we can count on it," Hogan said.

"At least we got Holtzmann to come over to our side," Carter said.

"Yeah, well, that's not gonna do us any good unless we can get him all the way over… like to England. Beforehe changes his mind."

"You think it's possible he might decide to back out?" Kinch asked.

Hogan shrugged. "I don't like to count on anything until it's in the bag, and as long as Holtzmann's still in Germany, I wouldn't bet against it. A delay could give him too much time to think. We need to get in touch with London and get them to send a plane pronto."

"I don't see how, with that radio truck right there just waiting to pick up our signal."

Hogan started to pace. Sometimes that helped. Unfortunately, there was one other reality that he hadn't yet shared with the rest of the men. If it were impossible to get Holtzmann safely out of Germany, it was entirely likely that they would have to find another way to ensure that he would never be able to recreate his diamond manufacturing process for the benefit of the Nazis. He never liked to resort to that kind of last-ditch solution, but it had happened before and although it was unpleasant, sometimes it was necessary. And as much as permanently eliminating Holtzmann was unappealing on a personal level, the loss of his assistance to the Allied war effort would be incalculable. "There must be a way around that truck."

"We could blow it up," Carter piped up. Of course, that would be Carter's suggestion. Carter would suggest a dynamite charge to fix a clogged rain gutter.

"With all them Krauts standin' about guardin' the bleedin' thing?" Newkirk challenged. "Good luck to you."

"What about a diversion?" Kinch asked.

That was more like it. "How long would you need to get the message through to London?" Hogan asked.

"I'm not sure. Depends on how fast the Krauts pick up the signal and how fast I can give London all the details they'll need to put the plane down when and where we want it. They won't be able to call us back to ask for more information; I've gotta get it all through on the first try."

"Give me an estimate."

"Two minutes minimum. Three or four would be better."

That sounded like no time at all, until one considered how little time Hochstetter and his radio truck would need to pick up the outgoing signal and triangulate its exact location. It would feel like hours, not minutes, for Kinch to keep the connection open long enough to get their request through to Allied headquarters. Then out would come the shovels, and the Gestapo would start to dig. And then everyone associated with the Stalag 13 escape and sabotage operation would be out of a job, the hard way.

Hogan shook his head. "Can't happen. We're in close quarters. It wouldn't take them half that long to zero in on the location of the radio room. And don't forget about the portable version they've got in Klink's office; we'd have to take them both out at the same time. We're talking about two simultaneous diversions, both involving heavily-guarded equipment."

"And heavily-armed Gestapo," Newkirk reminded them all, just in case they'd forgotten… which nobody had. "Somehow I just don't see that endin' well."

Neither did Hogan. If there was one thing he was learning in this command, it was that oftentimes simple was best. The more complicated an assignment got, the more intricate the plan also had to be, and the more places something could go horribly wrong. Too many variables. Too many moving parts. Too many chances for error. Too many...

Hogan snapped his fingers. "I've got it."

oo 0 oo

Every radio they could get their hands on, and they soon discovered they could get their hands on quite a few, was soon collected and brought together in the tunnel. The haul included several cheap transistor radios, a couple of beat-up but functional walkie-talkies, and a small two-way set they'd swiped out of the local Hofbrau in case they ever ended up needing some spare parts for their main rig, all in perfect working order. Even the radio that had originally been in the dashboard of Gustav Holtzmann's Mercedes was pressed into service and connected to a small battery so it could be used independently.

Hogan surveyed the assortment with satisfaction. "This oughta light up their detector unit like a Christmas tree when we turn 'em all on at the same time."

"And all in different places," Carter nodded eagerly. "This is a great idea, Colonel."

"Are you sure their detectors can detect any radio?" LeBeau asked.

"That's what Hochstetter said. And he's never lied to us." At any rate, one way or another, they were about to find out. "Okay, time to put Operation Radio City into action. You guys all know what to do."

oo 0 oo

One minute there was nothing, exactly where there had been nothing for the past couple of days. Just the faint hum of the rotor on top of the truck as the endlessly twirling antenna failed, consistently, to pick up so much as the tiniest crackle that might indicate the presence of a contraband radio somewhere in the environs of Stalag 13.

Then came the ear-piercing squeal indicating that a signal had been detected. The radio specialist crouching inside the unheated truck, who hadn't been able to feel his fingers or toes for hours in the biting cold, had all he could do to leap to his feet and stagger to the front of the cab so he could yell out the window. "Herr Major!"

Inside Klink's office, Major Hochstetter heard the call at the exact same moment that the portable detector device on Klink's sideboard had also begun to squeal. "I knew it!" he exclaimed. "I knew it! We have them!"

Klink's heart fell straight down into his boots. After all his proud boasting that the Gestapo would never find a contraband radio anywhere in his camp, now they had. What that meant to his career, he could easily guess. He would finish up hip-deep in a snowdrift west of Minsk squinting through a heavily-frosted monocle. The only question was whether that would be at the end of this week, or the beginning of next.

Adding insult to injury, Hochstetter turned on him. "What do you have to say to that, Herr Kommandant?"

"Um…"

"I will deal with you later!" The major grabbed his hat and gloves and barreled towards the door, making a beeline for the truck in the compound.

Yes. Klink believed he meant that. He tried to pour himself a glass of schnapps, but found his hand too unsteady to do it successfully. No matter. He already felt as numb as he was likely to get, with or without the fortification of alcohol. Instead he sunk into his desk chair and stared morosely at the portable detection unit, still whistling away like a traffic cop, and picked up a pen. His handwriting was a jumbled mess under the circumstances, but he was certain it would be legible enough to serve its purpose.

'I, Wilhelm Klink, being of sound mind and body, hereby declare this document my last will and testament…'

oo 0 oo

Hochstetter leaped into the back of the radio detection truck and focused on the circular radar scope. The small bright-green blip towards the left outer rim of the screen was obvious. "There it is!" he bellowed triumphantly. "Where is that exact location?"

The system operator checked the coordinates one more time to be certain. "Due west of the camp, at sixty yards from the perimeter fence, from guard tower number three."

"Send all available men to that position!"

The operator was about to acknowledge the order with his customary "jawohl". But then, something strange happened. The blip he had just reported was still there… but ninety yards to the north, another one had suddenly appeared. "I… I do not understand…"

"What do you mean you do not understand? I gave you a direct order!"

"Yes, but… look, Herr Major. There is another radio."

"What?" Hochstetter's eye had no sooner fallen on the second blip when a third, then a fourth lit up the screen. "What is the meaning of this?"

oo 0 oo

The area around Stalag 13 was alive with two things: radios and sprinting prisoners. One by one, the portable devices were turned on and dropped at their predetermined locations, then the man who had left it there double-timed it through the trees towards his next assigned drop point. Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau had four each to place, in as wide an arc as possible, before returning to the safety of the tunnel. Speed was of the essence; they well knew that in very short order they would have a whole lot of company out in the woods and they definitely wanted to get the job done before things got too hot. So far, Operation Radio City was working perfectly, exactly as the colonel had envisioned.

Crouched behind the cover of some brush, Newkirk flipped on his walkie-talkie. "Rockette One to Backstage, you readin' me?"

"Backstage to Rockette One, loud and clear," Hogan confirmed from the tunnel via a matching two-way radio. "How many have you set already?"

"I got just this one here yet to leave."

"Roger, set it and then head back here as fast as you can."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

"Backstage to Rockette Two, come in," Hogan called next.

"Rockette Two, I read you," Carter joined the conversation. "I've got three in position and one to go."

"Roger."

"Ici Rockette Three," LeBeau's voice chimed in. "I'm on my way back now. All in position."

Hogan nodded to Kinch. "Okay, Kinch, go ahead and fire up the radio; ask London to send a plane for Holtzmann, top priority, at the usual rendez-vous point. I think you've got the three or four minutes you wanted, but don't start any long conversations. When the surprise wears off and the goons start thinking clearly, it won't take them long to figure out what's going on and realize this is the real radio, and it's inside the wire."

"Right, Colonel."

"Oh… and you better ask London to send us some more walkie-talkies while they're at it. I get the feeling I'm gonna be talking to myself until we re-stock." Hogan switched off their one remaining two-way radio and set it aside.

Now it was all over but the yelling. Major Hochstetter would be handling that part.