Carter was starting to get tired of buttons. It wasn't that he disliked buttons; anything that helped keep one's pants from falling down was a useful thing. It was just that, since the Colonel had ordered them to make a full set of Kriegsmarine uniforms, he had seen more than his fair share of gold colored buttons. Seriously, who was the wise guy who decided that navy uniforms needed so many buttons, anyway?

However, his friends didn't have it any easier as LeBeau was busy sewing a pair of pants while Newkirk worked on creating the proper decorations for an admiral. Carter just hoped that the Colonel would share his plans for these uniforms soon; he figured that he would enjoy pretending to be a sailor. Nautical terms were a lot of fun to say in English, so he could only imagine how entertaining they would be in German.

Turning his attention back to his task, he barely noticed when the needle pricked his finger. He was used to it. But a few seconds later, the fabric started to become damp and he realized that he had drawn blood. "Uff da!"

Shooting Carter a weird look, Newkirk asked, "What was that?"

"I got blood on the jacket," Carter said as he sucked on his bleeding finger.

"No," Newkirk clarified. "What did you say?"

"Uff da."

"Oofta?"

"Uff da."

Still lost, Newkirk glanced over at LeBeau for help. But Frenchman just shrugged and continued with his work. "Don't look at me. English is not my first language."

"Well, I wouldn't call what the Yanks speak English most of the time."

"And this, coming from the man who calls girls 'birds' and the garbage can a 'rubbish bin'," Carter shot back.

"We invented the language. We can call things whatever we want."

Carter rolled his eyes and picked up a nearby rag. Dipping it in some water, he set to work getting the blood out of the uniform before it set.

LeBeau, however, remained curious. "So what does that offta…oofda… that word mean?"

Carter paused for a moment before answering, "Uff da doesn't really have a meaning. It's a word we use when other words won't work."

"I think you just made the word up," Newkirk grumbled.

"Not true. Everyone in Bullfrog says it. My mother and father, my brothers and sisters, Uncle John, my friends Ole and Lena, the teachers at school, Mr. Larsen at the store, our pastor… Even when I visited Crabapple Junction I heard people say uff da."

LeBeau looked skeptical. "I've never heard you say it before today."

"Well, it wouldn't be special if I used it all the time."

"So when do people use it?'

"Well, we say uff da when we are surprised in a good way, or surprised in a bad way. We say uff da when we are tired or frustrated or we want to show compassion. It really is a versatile word."

Newkirk still wasn't convinced. "Sounds like rubbish to me."

Carter let Newkirk's insult go unanswered as a wonderful idea came to his mind. He would show them, both of them. Checking his pockets, he quickly found exactly what he needed. He never went anywhere without one.

Looking down the tunnel, he said, "I think I hear the Colonel."

When his friends followed his gaze, Carter quickly lit the fuse of a small smoke bomb and tossed it underneath Newkirk's chair. His friends didn't even have time to protest that they didn't see anyone coming before the object went off with a very satisfying bang.

"Cor blimey!"

"Mon Dieu!"

When the smoke cleared, Newkirk and LeBeau lay sprawled on the floor, as they had both immediately hit the deck upon hearing the explosion. They did not look amused when they stood up, glaring daggers at the guilty party.

Grinning from ear to ear, Carter couldn't keep the tone of delight from his voice as he turned the tables on his friends. "So what do those words mean?"