There were at times men who would let nothing stand in their way in preserving their pride and dignity. There were also men who cowered rather than show strength for whatever ego they held. Such men existed in all camps of society, whether it be in the realm of civilian life, or within the world of war.

Within the confines of Stalag 13, only one man truly fit one of those categories (the latter, to be more exact), and many were fine with it as it did not hinder anything in terms of their own life. For all the power he wielded, he was still a coward in the face of danger, yet never a monster. He was simply a human being, truly doing his job to the best (even if you could consider that as being his "best") of his ability.

That spot never truly became filled until one snowy day, when the camp received its newest residents.

HH

The man who stood at attention right in front of his desk was interesting. He was Polish for one… and he and those who came with him were not even in Air Force service, but rather came from the army. His papers said that he was captured near the end when Warsaw fell, so he had been a guest of the Reich for quite a bit of time already.

That being said, the second point of interest came into play… his uniform was more or less spotless. His collar tabs told that he was from the Cavalry and given the medals on the chest of his uniform, it was obvious he was quite decorated… but it was his face that stood out.

It wasn't a face that showed the depression that one would have after being held in prison after such a long time, but it held an aura of determination, mixing well with his spotless uniform and cap. Had it not been for the fact that he had been brought literally in chains, Klink would've thought the man to be an attaché of sorts, rather than a cowed prisoner of war.

Looking over to Hogan, who was watching from behind with his usual nonchalant attitude, and then back to the new Polish officer he had as a resident, Klink finally asked the question both he, and his American counterpart wanted to know.

Not an inch of the Polish officer's face had shown any form of emotion as he uttered the usual.

"Wojciech Wiśniewski, Major, Serial Number 104958"

HH

"So, what's the deal with this merry band, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"Honestly, even I don't know. I tried prying Klink and Schultz but even they don't know why the Major and his guys got transferred here. All Klink said was that the Kommandant of Stalag 8 just called out of the blue to tell them that we were going to get a new batch of guys". Hogan answered.

"So where are we bloody gonna put 'em? We're as full as a it is already." Newkirk stated.

"Alright, before anyone has nightmares about bunking up with each other, I got Klink to let us build a few new barracks with supplies but since that'll take time, we're gonna have to clear out the rec hall for extra cots for our new residents."

"Hey! We were gonna finish the gin tournament today! Where are we gonna host it now?" Carter asked.

"Relax, we can always use the mess hall. But in the meantime, lets try and get situated. Kinch, go contact London and ask about this Major Wiśniewski. LeBeau, go see if you can fix something up for our new guests and maybe try and get something out of the poles. The rest of you, go get ready to start the barracks construction. Is that clear?"

The "Yes Colonel" that flooded the room made Hogan a bit better. Lately with all the snow and bad weather, along with London giving them a bit of a respite, things had been getting a bit stagnant and it almost did feel like a POW camp, so Hogan relished whatever activity he was given. Besides, who know, Hochstetter could show up at any time, so it was good to get just a little practice in.

HH

Eyes had been on him and his men the moment they stepped out of the trucks in Stalag 13. Some of the prisoners ogled at their own state, no doubt surprised to see men who had been in prison for years march and fall into formation with near spotless uniforms as if they hadn't even been captured.

That was good, very good indeed… it made their presence known, it showed discipline, pride… honor. They would not be cowed into slacking and looking somewhat disheveled as the airman that watched from their barracks and the camp yard. Had they forgotten that they were still in the army, or was the Senior POW Officer that much of a lazy slacker?

He got his answer the moment he met the Kommandant of the camp. The bald headed, monocle wearing man who sat in front of him going through the usual "interrogation" oozed with ego fused with a lack of a spine. He was harmless to say the least, but when he met the Senior POW Officer of the camp, he saw something different. For as lazy as he seemed, especially in the way he saluted and even conversed with the camp Kommandant, there was something about the American Colonel.

He almost felt as if he was being analyzed right as he looked the Colonel in the eye… the man's handshake was firm and didn't show off any tiredness… and his attitude after they left the Kommandant's office was that of confidence and humor, as if he knew of everything that was going on and had full control.

This little assumption he had was further solidified when a fat guard came running up to the Colonel, almost begging that he be allowed to take Wiśniewski to the delousing station, only for the Colonel to tell him he'll take him himself, whilst simultaneously pulling out a chocolate bar, easily driving the fat man away.

How his American counterpart did that, Wiśniewski didn't bother to ask… but he was growing suspicious of what was going on… and once again, he felt that he was being watched but this time not by simple prisoners in their barracks, but by men with a mission.

He'd keep his eyes on them all, but he still had men to take care of and discipline to maintain. Maybe he'd have a chat with the American named Hogan later, after his lunch, which was supposedly being made by another prisoner. After such a long ride, that was the one thing he surely needed.

HH

"Anything learned LeBeau?"

"Nothing Mon Colonel. They were quiet when they ate, and the only thing that they did was speak Polish to one another, though some of them did speak French to me and said thank you when I served them."

"What about the Major?"

"He simply ate his meal, though I could tell that he enjoyed my cooking, unlike someone." A cockney glared at his back as he said that.

"Anything else. Did they do something funny or anything?"

"No, all they did was say thank you and eat like they were at someone's home rather than a camp."

"Gee, sounds like this guy is a bit of a stiff." Carter said from his bunk.

"With the stuff they've gone through, I'm surprised their uniforms even look that clean given how long they've been in captivity." Olsen responded.

"Well, look… until Kinch hears back from London, lets just keep them under watch until then. Besides, even if we gotta have them transferred out, the way things are looking, we're gonna need the extra barracks anyways. Now come on, we have some foundations to make."

HH

When Kinch finally heard back from London, everything that was in the guy's file came back as a match, as well as the men he had with him. It turned out that they were all together in Warsaw fighting until the city fell and got captured and sent to the same camp. The thing is, that camp wasn't Stalag 8, but Stalag 3… and then Stalag 11, and then Stalag 5… and then through most of the other Stalags until they were eventually all transferred from Stalag 8 to Stalag 13.

Apparently, they had quite a large file in London. They were known for strict discipline and military conduct, and yet were extreme within the number of escape attempts they made… a number that would make a certain prisoner who's name might've been Flood (but was not since said Flood was dead, obviously) blush. Only the fact that Flood had more notoriety made them unknown to allied circles in both the west and east.

To Hogan, one of the more amusing parts of said file included their latest attempt, which apparently involved a pack of horses and a very angry farmer. How they all weren't shot is nothing short of a miracle, but then again… such persistence could cause a major issue, and everyone knew that.

A debate soon happened after, whether to wait it out, talk to the Major about it all, try and authorize them to become apart of the operation with their sets of skills, or simply get them transferred out and actually get them to London. Some advocated for the latter, some the former options, and all while this occurred, another debate was occurring in the recreation hall.

HH

"He has no honor, no sense of discipline! Look how his men sulk around! Have they no pride or passion anymore?" A voice amongst the crowd yelled, earning him a few voices of approval from some of his comrades.

"Look how he interacts with the guards! It is collaboration I tell you, collaboration!" Another voice yelled, earning even more "ayes" than the previous voice.

"This is a camp full of traitors to the cause! The British, the Americans, the French… all of them! They were not there as we fought to the last in Warsaw! The stood by and let the Germans slaughter our people, our history, our culture, our homeland. We must think for ourselves. They are lost!"

"ENOUGH!"

The room quieted as a voice they all knew well rose from the head of the table.

The form of Major Wiśniewski rose from his seat at the head, his officers wedged behind him whilst glaring at their subordinates.

"We will not make any such considerations yet. This decision is final until I shall make my own personal amendment to such orders. Is that clear?" He ordered.

He knew some of his men were giving him certain looks, but it didn't matter. They knew who to listen to and when to follow orders. If they didn't understand that basic concept, they would've died at Warsaw that day… they would not be wearing the uniforms on their backs and representing Polska with the best that a Prisoner of War could show. No… they knew, and so if not immediately, the daggers being readied within the pupils of their eyes were slowly being holstered. They would follow the Major… if not, what else was there to do?

Satisfied when he sensed no daggers being glared at him, Major Wiśniewski gave them 3 orders that night. One to assist in the construction of their new barracks, the second in scouting out the camp, and the third… ensuring that they could possibly bring men into their fold and hopefully restore some honor amongst the men in the camp.

Wiśniewski also gave a 4th order that night, but not to his men but rather to himself. He would have to speak to the American Colonel Hogan about this all. Besides, he was becoming a bit tired of being watched.

Outside the Recreation Hall, the forms of a Sergeant and Corporal scurried away into the snowy night, while underneath the polished boots of the Polish soldiers, activity flourished whilst the somewhat daily grind finally began again.