April 24, 1942
Colditz Officer's Camp

"…and I now place this man in your custody," the lieutenant from the Dulag Luft was saying. "Be warned that he's one of the most cunning officers we've processed during the war and I advise you to take all the precautions that I know you are capable of using." He spoke in English for Robert's benefit.

The prisoner stood motionless on the floor, not listening, not feeling, but simply waiting for events to fall as they might. Two escape attempts and countless interrogation sessions had taught him this painful lesson. For the past month Robert had stopped caring about the time elapsed in the Luftwaffe prisons. He'd distanced himself from his body and all his physical pains. If he hadn't, he doubted he'd be sane.

From Robert's vantage point, he dully watched the lieutenant converse with the colonel in charge of the new place. With mild surprise he realized he didn't really care what they were saying. What was one prison over another, if that were the case? Or, if it were his death of which they spoke, he could welcome it.

The officers exchanged salutes and the lieutenant left, leaving Robert alone in the stark office.

"Welcome to Colditz," the colonel said in stilted English. Robert didn't raise his eyes from the floor and acknowledge him.

"You might think that you have been fortunate to leave the Dulag Luft. Let me tell you now that this is not true. Every measure of security is taken, no exceptions. I don't expect to speak to you again for the entirety of your stay here- which will be the entirety of the war. Draw attention to yourself and you will suffer the consequences."

Dully, Robert noted that he wasn't going to be shot… interesting. Instead, he was to be a permanent POW at Colditz, a fortress he'd heard of even before being shot down. They said it took magic to escape, and the Kommandant was harsh and unforgiving. He was about to discover the truth of those words.

The colonel continued. "You will spend a week in solitary confinement before joining the rest of the prisoners." He raised his voice, "Guard!"

As two members of the guard seized Robert's shackled arms and led him away, he wondered just how much longer he was to be treated like a sack of potatoes.

May 4, 1942
Colditz Officer's Camp

Robert woke up on the stiff hard bunk that had been his for the last ten days. It marked the end of his solitary confinement, and, as he stretched, he realized that he actually cared.

His time at Colditz thus far, if not pleasant, had been healing. There had been no interrogation sessions. The guards, if not friendly or chatty, didn't abuse him the way those at Dulag Luft had, and, for the first time in a long while, Robert was fairly certain of his future.

A key rattled in the lock, and a guard entered. Robert listened to the wave of German and stood, fairly certain of what the man wanted. There were ten marks on his bed frame. At last, he was going to be among other prisoners.

The barracks that housed the prisoners were not barracks in the traditional sense, considering that Colditz was a fortress rather than a compound. Instead, the prisoners were housed in large rooms with bunks lining the edge. The walk from Robert's solitary cell gave him an impression of the sheer size of the place. Before arriving at his new quarters, he passed by five floors, spotting a least a dozen rooms on each.

The guard pushed him into one of these. Robert counted eleven men scattered throughout the room, which consisted of a long table surrounded by fourteen bunks, and decorated by a few basic necessities. His guard exchanged a few German words with one of the occupants, a captain, before leaving.

After he had departed, a captain sitting on a bunk rolled off and moved towards Robert. The rest of the men returned to what they were doing. Robert stared. What was wrong with them?

"Captain Travis Nonamacher, RAF, sir," the man said with a salute. He wasn't a tall man, shorter than Robert, and he looked thin and tired.

"Colonel Robert Hogan, US Army Air Corps," Robert said, returning the salute sharply. It felt incredibly good to be in contact with someone other than Germans.

"I'm sure you've already heard the welcome speech from our beloved Kommandant, but I'd like to color it a little bit for you. What the Kommandant said is basically true. Colditz is nearly impossible to escape from. It's been done by a two or three, but by my reckoning, what happens when you get caught isn't worth the risk. But that's your decision to make, Colonel."

Nonamacher led Robert to a bunk in the corner. "This will be yours. Basic rules- don't leave the floor during the day, don't leave the room at night, and if you have any concerns, they go through the senior prisoner of war, Colonel Mitch Shelly."

As if this were their cue, the other ten men in the room finally noticed Robert and greeted him with stories of common suffering the war had brought.

May 4, 1942
Aboard the USS Refuge

Tomorrow the USS Refuge would be in range of the fighting in North Africa and list itself as an active hospital ship. 1. Greg Hogan stared at the ceiling above him, wondering just how this could all be real. Just two months ago, his life had been fine. And then, in the course of a week, everything had turned upside down. Suddenly, instead of being just a doctor, he was working on a Navy Ship, ready to heal any mutilated battle patient that might come his way.

The Refuge was a veteran ship with a veteran commander, and sure to be stationed near the thick of the fighting…

Greg threw his pillow to the end of the narrow bunk. He'd become a doctor because he wanted to cure diseases, not fish bullets out of young kids. Hell, he wasn't more than a kid himself.

"You okay, Hogan?" the sleepy voice of his bunkmate, Kevin Parker asked. Before joining the medical team on the Refuge, he served on the USS Klondike for nearly a year in the war, and had seen about all there was to see.

"I'm fine," Greg said, "Just nervous."

Parker yawned and turned over, his movement shaking the bunk. "You should be. I know I was. It'll pass though. Now, be quiet and let a fellow sleep at 3:30 in the morning, okay?"

Greg rolled onto his back, listening to the familiar hum of the motors, taking them closer to the chaos of the fighting with every passing second.


1. Hospital ships: Non-combatant vessels protected by The Hague and Geneva Conventions, they evacuate sick and wounded Army and Navy personnel from combat areas. Painted white and brightly lighted at night, they travel alone, identify themselves to all. The USS Refuge is an actual ship used during WWII and was capable of handing up to 626 patients at one time.