A week later, Hogan watched as some of his men played a game of poker around the center table, which had been crudely nailed together after Herman smashed it to pieces. It wobbled quite a bit, but still provided a good surface for cards. Newkirk had been released from the cooler after some wheedling from Hogan. Now, Klink was convinced Newkirk had taken the opportunity of the thick fog to scale the fence and escape, and it was nothing more than a streak of guilt that drove him to come back. Hochstetter still prowled the area, but Hogan wasn't worried. The hot-headed Gestapo major would get bored and move on in time. His thoughts were broken by the bunk trapdoor opening and Kinch climbing out.

"Message from London, Colonel. I think you'll want to hear this one." Hogan and the rest of the heroes followed Kinch to the radio room.

"Hello? This is Papa Bear," Hogan said into the speaker.

"Hello there, Colonel!" replied a familiar voice through the static.

"Grandpa!" Hogan chuckled.

Grandpa started to say something more, but Herman's voice cut him off.

"We just wanted to let you know we made it to London safe and sound, although it was rather difficult convincing the fellows on the submarine we were on their side."

"Did they mistake you for Krauts?"

"No, they mistook us for corpses and tried to give us a burial at sea."

"Which I took as quite the compliment," Grandpa added, "I've been buried many times before, but never at sea. It sure is a shame I lost my spells, though. Now I'll have to start from scratch rebuilding my stock. It'll take at least another four hundred years."

Carter blushed and crept out the door as the rest of the gang wished their goodbyes to their new friends. He still felt bad about it, but what could he do? He decided to stop by the lab and check on the newest shipment of dynamite. On the way, he kicked a small bottle which rolled across the tunnel and stopped by the wall. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. The bottle was filled with small white pills, like many of the other bottles in Grandpa's lost stash, only it was labeled Adolph Hitler. It must've fallen out of Grandpa's cape before the cape had been burned. Carter fingered the bottle for a moment longer, than stuffed it in his pocket. Who knew? Maybe these would come in handy someday.