AN:

Yes it has been slightly longer than a week since I've updated, and since it's summer I have no real excuse. Other than that I just wasn't getting everything written down fast enough. For that I apologize. Those of you that were confused by the last chapter, this should set it right. The prologue was just a little thing I did for fun. The real story starts here.

Thank you all for waiting politely for me to update. I will try to get Hellhound on my Trail updated as soon as possible. Especially because more likely htan not, it's only going to be the first fic in a trio of fics. So, updating sooner rather than later will probably make you all happier.

Now, read on you poor bastards- I mean people, lovely people.

In the eastern provinces of Nazi Germany, much of the landscape was dotted with constructions that showed any wayward traveler there was one hell of a war going on.

Prison camps were everywhere, covering former farms, build around lumber mills, and stuffed in the hills in the mountains when they started to run out of room. Each camp did not hold too many men. Too many men meant more men than guards, and even with guns, there was only so much the Nazi's could hold back.

One of these camps, notorious in both it's day and days long after it's use, was Stalag Luft III, located in German occupied Poland. This camp was not an ordinary camp. No, this camp had a special purpose. It was to be a high security compound, used to house all the most notorious escape artists in various camps across Nazi controlled territory. The purpose was, aside from to decrease the number of escapes, was to lessen the resource use of German infantry and money by simply using a single camp to hold everyone.

Now on paper, this may have seemed like a good idea, but in reality, there were… several important problems…

Group Captain Jason Grace had woken up in many different ways over his thirty three year life. Several of which had been quite memorable. But there was none he hated more than the sharp rap on a wooden door, and a rifle jammed into his side.

Needless to say, it got him woken up quite quickly. It worked better than coffee. That is, if coffee directly caused a sharp pain just below one's ribs.

He was taken out of the log cabin, in which he and a number of other men all were required to be in by curfew less they be shot. Across the compound, he was led by two surly German guards, both stoically silent in that way that all infantrymen are trained.

Now Jason Grace was a big man, and more often than not he found himself literally looking down on those he was talking to, but he found that whenever he was accompanied by guards, they always happened to be just enough larger than him to make him not crack wise in any situation.

One of them stepped ahead of them as they approached the commandant's private cabin/house, and, with a salute to his comrades, opened the door and walked in. The other guard nudged Jason forward, and the two followed him in.

The first room was mostly empty. There was one guard standing at the far end, rifle crossed over his chest. Behind him was a double door. To the right and left there was mostly empty space. A few pieces of furniture here and there, and a window facing the east. Allowing light to trickle past the curtains.

The guards reached out to halt him, but Jason had already stopped. He knew the drill, he had been in here dozens of times. It was sort of like a second job.

As usual, one of the men walked over to him and began going over his uniform. As he reached into a pocket, he stopped and raised an eyebrow. From his back pocket he pulled a spoon. The point had be ground down into a blade.

The guard looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and held the hunk of metal in front of his face. Jason stared into the middle distance. Blue eyes unblinking.

The German guards were uncomplicated men, Jasen had known this for a long time. The guard put the spoon in his pocket and walked through a door into another room. The two remaining guards moved to flank the door, and Jason stayed in his spot. Waiting to be called in.

He waited for fifteen minutes, according to the clock on the wall. The commandant had to be roused, and he didn't hurry. The only thing to occupy his attention, was to listen to the ticking of the clock, and drum his fingers on his thigh in perfect rhythm. An old soldiers trick, which for some, helped make time pass faster in their eyes.

Eventually Jason heard someone on the other side of the door. Footsteps shuffled across the floor and a chair scraped backwards over wood planks. Someone sat in it, the chair creaked lightly, but in the near complete silence, Jason picked up the noise clearly.

He had another thirty seconds to wait before the commandant called out to him. "Enter, Captain Grace."

The English officer strode forward, and slowly pushed open the doors, not to alarm either of the men on either side of him. They may not have been as intelligent as Jason, but that didn't matter. They had STGs.

The commandant was a thin man. Both in physical appearance and in personality. From what Jason Grace knew, he was fairly one sided. He was a German officer, former infantryman, who was promoted because Hitler knew his daddy. He smoked heavily and drank lightly. Never doing either after his six o'clock stroll around the perimeter of the camp. Guarded by four soldiers, two armed with STGs, two armed with gewehrs. To his men he was curt, to the prisoners he was even more so. He didn't talk much, he wasn't a man who wasted breath. It was hard to imagine him living with a family, or going out to meet friends, or even collecting stamps. There was just nothing spare about the man. Any sign of escape in the camp by a single man, and he would be shot immediately.

And that was just what Jason knew from watching him. Or at least what he guessed, but something made him sure that he was mostly right.

The commandant looked at him, coal black eyes digging into his soul from the back of a long, thin nose, in which his voice resonated. "Sit down, captain Grace."

Jason slid a chair back and eased back into it. Though he played it cool in the eyes of the Germans, that guard had really hit him hard with the rifle. He certainly was expecting a bruise to form in a short while.

"Good morning, Commandant." He said. He always addressed the man by his rank. Not 'sir', in a respectful town. And not the man's name, 'Ingo' in a disrespectful one. An American soldier once had told him it always paid to be somewhat nice to your jailor, because it may mean that they handcuff you in the front. And a man with both hands where he can see them has a whole lot of freedom.

Jason had always assumed that the quote wasn't only meant to be taken in a complete literal sense.

The German officer sifted through various pieces of paper on his desk, taking several of them and neatly stacking them together. Reaching down, his hand came back up with a pair of spectacles, which he donned and then maneuvered his eyes down to the paper.

"Captain Grace. I have brought you here this morning for something very, very important. And, as the senior British Officer in the camp, you are to deliver this information to the men later today."

"And what is this information?" Jason gave no indication of his reaction to the information so far given.

Commandant Ingo leaned back in his chair. "Captain Grace, as you know, POWs of all nationality, rank, and description have things in common. The fact that they are imprisoned being the most obvious. In this instance, as you also know, what I speak of is an inborn desire of escape."

"It is a thing that seems to appeal to prisoners, that is true." said Jason. Dryly, yet not overly so. Always be somewhat nice.

"Yes," said the commandant. "That was the reason for the creation of this camp. You have no doubt already noticed, during your time here, the added security measures we have put here that other prisons just do not have."

Jason cocked an eyebrow. "Actually, commandant, I hadn't noticed. It just looks like any other."

Ingo just looked at him. "Of course you hadn't Captain Grace."

Jason stared back. Secretly acknowledging that it wasn't even a good try.

"Tomorrow morning, a collection of American prisoners from various camps around the continent will arrive here. All men will be rearranged and some moved into the new cabins we have build in a new sector."

"How many men?"

The commandant looked down at his sheet of paper. "Two hundred and twenty officers."

For the first time that morning, Jason's mask completely slipped. "Two hundred and twenty?"

"Yes, Captain Grace."

"There's no way I can keep order amongst that many men!"

Ingo shook his head. "You will not have to, captain. There will be two American officers who will be in also be in charge of a section of soldiers. And another British officer will be put in charge. You shall have assistance in keeping order. Each cabin will also have another men in charge of keeping those men in line. They will all be selected by myself, not by you. And any reports of other men taking charge will result in a complete rearrangement of the men."

There goes my second, third, fourth, and fifth question, though Jason. Out loud, he said, "It sounds like you have this all sorted out. All these rules, and countermeasures that I know nothing about. No escapes on your watch, eh?"

The commandant looked at him levelly. Jason had long ago decided to keep track of every one of those looks he earned. Each one was worth five points. The points however, were worth nothing.

"I would hope not, Captain Grace." He said tightly.

Jason shrugged. "As you know commandant. It is the code of every officer in the army to, if captured, because their captors as much irritation and difficulties as possible," he smiled a small smile. "And, well, I'm sure the situation doesn't escape you."

"I am sure it does not." Ingo pulled a second piece of paper from his stack. "The other thing I wanted to briefly mention, captain, is… do you know or have any knowledge a Colonel Jackson."

Inside Jason's mind, something shattered. THoughts raced a million miles an hour and he almost let it slip onto his face, but was able to catch it before it escaped. With as much control and indifference as he could, he looked up and to the right before shaking his head slowly. "Nope, can't say I do."

Ingo nodded. "Ah. Well, he will also be arriving at the camp, a day after the rest of the prisoners. Escorted by Gestapo men. He will be the senior commander of the American prisoners. You two will be working together for some time."

"Good to know." Jason said weakly.

"Now, captain, you have business to attend to, as do I. You can escort yourself out, good day." Ingo nodded to him and looked down at his desk. Picking up a pen and moving a sheet of paper in front of him. Jason hadn't moved.

The commandant looked back up after a moment. "Do you mind?"

"No." Jason stood up slowly, making sure to grab his hat, which he had nearly forgotten he had. Donning it, he turned sharply, and with a soldier's march, took his leave from the room.

Five hours later, Jason stood in the main room of cabin six. Every member of which was out milling about on the prison grounds. Lunch had passed an hour before, and after thirty minutes max of eating, the men were still deeply involved in a game of football. The majority of them anyway, if Jason's memory served him correctly, Kipper, Scout, and Mitch were all three surveying the perimiter of the camp. Looking for the largest blind spot in the German's defense. So far they had found two or three. Jason gave it another week before they tried to escape.

Or he would have anyway. With the Americans arriving he wasn't so sure.

He heard a door creak open at the far end of the cabin. Two sets of footsteps made their way toward him. Two men appeared in the doorway and walked in. Jason nodded to the two of them.

"Dakota. Frank." He said.

"Jason." Frank responded, with a solute. Dakota followed briskly. Jason waved hi hand towards the two and they both returned to ease. Walking forward they stood across a table that stood just to Jason's left.

"So what's going on, sir? You said you needed to speak with us." Frank was the first to speak.

Jason turned to him. Frank Zhang, a captain, similar to himself. Except that Frank was never involved with the RAF. Frank worked on the ground. He had been captured when the Germans had broken into the fort at which he was stationed and killed that majority of his men. He and a few of the other senior soldiers were all taken to prison camps. Though he was the only one at this one. Like Jason, he used to command, which is why Jason often went to him for consulting. Unlike Jason however, he was much more cautious. Always looking for any flaw or problem in any situation. Once again, a trait that made him a man to whom Jason often went to to talk out something he was thinking.

"We've got a big change coming." Said Jason. He lit a cigarette. They were brought in by crate for the soldiers to enjoy. Jason never really knew why those in charge bothered, but he certainly didn't complain. They also brought decent food. "Tomorrow something huge is going to happen. We'll have to rearrange everything going on around here, and get used to life going very differently."

"Please just say it Jason. I'm not as smart as you are." Dakota leaned against the table, using his right hand to hold himself up. Dakota, another captain, also ground force not RAF. No one knew his last name, and he had never felt obliged to tell anyone. He had been in the army longer than anyone else in the camp, which made him a perfect man to co lead with his fellow captains. Plus, he was the camp's veteran escape artist. Ten times in total, all from different camps. They moved him each time he tried. So far he hadn't tried for an eleventh, but Jason always suspected that he had some sort of plan.

"Two hundred and twenty," Jason paused to let the number sink in. "Two hundred and twenty American soldiers are going to be transferred here to stay, in the morning, tomorrow."

Frank stared at him. "Two hundred and twenty?"
Dakota chimed in. "Is there even enough room?"

Jason shrugged. "The commandant seems to think so. And the Gestapo. They're who are behind this huge shift. There's also a new section going to be opened up for the men to move into. Not just Americans, some of us as well."

Dakota whistled. "That's a big shift."

Jason nodded. "That's not it. There's something else. Apparently it's causing the Germans too much money to hold repeated escape artists in various prisons all around the country, so they're shifting them all here. All of them."

Frank and Dakota just stared at him in shock. Then their expression shifted slightly, making them look like little boys on christmas day. Just, you know, taller, heavier, and scruffier. "You're Joking."

"No."

Dakota grinned. "So. What you're saying is. To stop people from breaking out of camps. THey're taken all the people who break out of camps, and put them in one camp," he started laughing. "What moron came up with that idea?"

"No clue. But that's not what's important. What's important is that you take this information and spread it around to all the men. Make sure everybody knows and is prepared. And make sure they understand, no break outs are to be attempted until I give the word otherwise. If they try, they won't just have the Germans to worry about. I have enough on my plate already." Jason looked back and forth between the two men, watching them both nod.

"And not to mention, you're going to have even more to deal with tomorrow." said Frank.

Jason sighed tiredly. "I know. At least a couple of the Americans are going to be put in a position like mine as well. And maybe a couple of our boys too. The commandant likes order."

"That's the truth." chuckled Dakota grimly. "There anything else you want us to do, sir?"

Jason shook his head. "No. Just get out there and get the word around. Then make sure you two are ready as well. The commandant may be looking to put one or both of you in charge as well, considering you're both captains."

Frank nodded. "Will do, sir. We'll report back when it's done."

"Thank you, lads. On your way." The three each ripped off a textbook salute. Just because they were imprisoned was no reason to let form slip. Then the two less senior officers took their leave from the cabin. The outside noise slipped through the door a moment before once again getting cut off as it shut again.

Jason put the cigarette back up to his lips and took a drag. Blowing the smoke as far away as possible. He watched the tendrils drift through the room and away, out the open window. As they dissipated into the air, he thought to himself, imagining that they were the Germans.

AN:

And that's a chapter. In case you didn't know, STGs and Gewehrs are both guns used by the Germans in WWII. The first is an assault rifle, the other is just a normal rifle. In other words, it's an assault rifle that gave up on it's dreams.

Thank you all for giving the story a second or first try. The way to tell if you're on the second or first try is to see how much you're irritated with me. If it's a little, it's the first chance you've given it. If it's a lot, it's the second. Either way, I still offer my thanks.

I'd like to give a special shout out to John Sturges, for directing the incredible movie that the story will be based partially on. The Great Escape. Ok. now that's out of the way. Sorry, John Sturges, but that's all the praise you're getting for now.

Read, rate, review, favorite, follow, curse, burn, boycott. Whichever of those you pick, I will accept your choice. Just with varying degrees of satisfaction, dissatisfaction. Though I ask that you do at least one of the first four, because otherwise I Can't Get No Satisfaction.

Anyone...? Anybody...?

Ahem, anyway, until next time, this is Hemlock Stones signing off.

Post Publish Add On:

I am adding this little clause to answer a few questions given to me, and hopefully to ease confusion.

Jason and Percy are both prisoners. But Percy has not arrived yet, Gestapo is bringing him in from another camp under special guard. Jason was so shocked by his incoming arrival due to the fact that they were placing one of the most infamous escape artists, soldiers, commanders, a Colonel non the less, in the camp with a bunch of other master escape artists. Plus, as you will see in the future, he and Percy have a bit of a...history...

Jason is allowed control over the men because that is his job. In prison camps, the Germans always appointed a senior officer or two to be partially in charge of the men. This meant the senior officer would relay information to them, organize any activities that when on, report to the commanant, and basically give orders to the troops. Although any order given could be overturned by the Germans.
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