Before I go on, I wanted to make sure that everyone understood that Newkirk and LeBeau are not going straight to Stalag 13. I've said it in the story already, but I perceive from the reviews that some people may have not caught that. Hope you continue to enjoy the story.

Chapter Eleven: The Soft Side

They hardly got out of the station before the train began to slow down. The prisoners immediately felt the difference, and started looking around as well as they could from the cars. Marcel gave a cry.

"C'est Capitaine 'Aussler," he exclaimed.

There was a quick and crushing migration to that side of the car, as everyone tried to peer throughthe slits. Marcel went on making his report to those who could not see.

"Il marche de retour au patform...il paraît fâché. Il est! Regarder le montant à cet officier de boche qui est venu par plus tôt. Le Capitaine a l'air d'il le tuera! Mon Dieu—"

"OI! Speak English you ruddy Frog!"

Marcel turned around to look at Peter hotly. "I said—"

"Shhhh," said Luke without looking at them. "Look, the SS officer is ordering his men to do something. He looks mad himself, but definitely not as mad as Haussler."

Outside, the SS Lieutenant who had taunted the prisoners before was now watching two of his men march off quickly. The Lieutenant looked back at Haussler, appearing annoyed, but unable to do anything about it. Haussler then turned back to the train, and was motioning for some of his own men to come out. The prisoners watched as at least a platoon came into view from the passenger cars. They listened to Haussler's orders, which the prisoners were unable to hear over the noise of the train station, and then turned to do his bidding.

"Ils viennent ici!"

"Wot?"

"They're coming over here," translated Louis. He pushed away from the door, tugging Peter away with him. There was another mass migration, this time away from the door. Everyone froze when they heard the familiar clink of the hatch being unlocked. The door was slid open, and the prisoners stared down at two of their own Wehrmacht guards.

"Hungry," asked one.

"Ja," replied everyone quickly and eagerly. Marcel stifled a laugh, realizing he had just taught all of his comrades their new favorite word. Still, they all wondered if this was just another tantalizing trick.

The guards exchanged looks, appearing amused by the prisoners' behavior.

"Vell," said one of the guards. "Zat is gut. Hauptmann Haussler vas very angry zat ze Schutzstaffel Leutnant did not feed you."

"Really," asked someone. "Him? He was angry that we didn't get fed. But I thought he didn't like us. I thought he wanted us dead."

The other guard shrugged. "You haf made it zis far. Maybe he zinks you ought to live now."

"That's perfectly alright wif me, mate," said Peter. "S'long as I'm alive, right? So where's the grub?"

"Grub," asked one of the guards, confused.

"The food," exclaimed Luke. "Where's the food?" He gave them both a good natured smile. The guards could not help but smile back.

"It is coming," assured one. "Hauptmann Haussler made ze Leutnant's men go get it. Zey vere supposed to, after all."

The prisoners grinned, glad to hear that someone was getting punished for having not take care of them…them…just prisoners of the mighty Third Reich. There was a very foreign sense of pride creeping amongst the prisoners now, that they were being guarded by Haussler and not the rude and taunting SS Lieutenant. Mind you, they remembered how Haussler had treated them before, and were at first wary that it might all be a trick. They remembered how the guards had boasted of their victories as well, and when the guards offered the prisoners cigarettes, they were slow to put them to their mouths. Still, once they spotted the bread coming along with canteens, they could remember more of how Haussler had helped them fight against the civilians when they were attacked in the hostile town, and how he had been more than merciful for the seventeen escaped prisoners who had returned obediently.

It was odd, this feeling of pride, and they were wary even of that. It was especially so with those who bore marks of Haussler's club or fist. Still, when one was given what they most desired after such long torment, they could not help but be pleased with how their captors had delivered. Soon enough, the prisoners were munching happily on two pieces of fresh bread each, and enjoying a good deal of more water than they had in one serving before. Haussler and his men were ever alert towards the prisoners, but it appeared that the prisoners were too busy eating to think of an escape. Besides, it would be useless to in a crowded and guarded train station. They would likely be shot before even getting to the platform.

The food and drink was short lived, though the full feeling in their stomachs and the wetness in their mouths lingered on. The prisoners' morale was boosted especially as they watched Haussler give the SS Lieutenant one last dressing down before departing again. While they could, the prisoners tried hard to clean out the cars. But once again, the doors were slammed shut, and they heard the lock and keys clank together as the guards ensured no escape.

"Well, with all that food, I think I'll turn in for the day," said Stephen. He began spreading out and making himself comfortable for a long nap.

"Moi aussi," said Louis.

The train started off again and the men began getting into their positions of comfort to try and get back to sleep.

Peter lay back against one wall. Louis lay against him on his right, and Luke on his left.

"Just make yourself comfortable," said Peter sarcastically.

Luke and Louis chuckled. Then they burst out laughing uncontrollably as Stephen and Marcel made a pillow out of Peter's legs.

"No problem," said Stephen.

"Oui," said Marcel. "It was so nice of you to offer Pierre."

"I didn't bloody offer anythin' you Frog," grumbled Peter, but he could not keep the smile off his face as Luke and Louis laughed harder. "Wot's wrong wif you two? Did you nick your funny bone?"

Luke just laughed harder.

"Je sais pas," said Louis. "C'est pas amusante."

"I know it's not funny," said Peter. "That's why I'm askin—" He paused, a look of horror and shock coming over his face. "Blimey! I just understood wot you said! Oh, bloody 'ell!"

Everyone laughed at that, and even Peter started laughing. It was all really stupid; they were laughing over nothing. Just the chance of laughter had caught them and it was spreading like wildfire. Everyone laid back and started talking, and now everything was funny. And who would have thought, that they would be pulling out of Nürnberg on that stinky ole train, laughing like crazy hyenas that had got too much sun?