As the jeeps rumble from Sturzelberg to Landsberg, there is a definite lightheartedness in the air. It is inexplicable, pervasive, and infectious, and as Easy Company rolls through the countryside of Germany, Eugene finds himself singing along with the others as they lift their voices in a grisly verse of "Blood Upon the Risers".

"Never heard you sing, doc!" says Tab with a grin. "You're not half bad." Eugene shrugs in halfhearted embarrassment. There have been so few days like this one, that there is no time to feel bashful or shy. Eugene only wants to enjoy it. How ironic, he reflects, that the most he's felt at peace since the war started is in Germany, the heart of the enemy.

Their time in Mourmelon refreshed the company, and like everybody else, Eugene begins to allow himself to think that maybe, just maybe, what remains of Easy Company will be able to make it home alive. After Haguenau, Easy Company became an occupation force rather than a combat force. War in the European theater was dying down as the Nazis were pushed farther and farther back. Maybe...but no. Eugene doesn't want to give himself too much hope, but he can't help the thought slipping into his mind. Maybe he would not have to see a comrade die in front of him again.

As the trucks near Landsberg, the men continue to sing.

Easy Company has only been in Landsberg for a few hours when Winters calls the entire company together to see what it is Perconte and the others found in the woods. There is nervous churning in his stomach as they ride, although Eugene isn't sure why. He can't suppress the feeling of trepidation that keeps rising up and resorts to taking deep breaths and clenching his fists inside his jacket pockets where nobody can see.

The woods where they stop are eerily quiet, entirely devoid of the rustle of wildlife or birdsong. The trucks pull towards a clearing where they stop and the men climb out. A slight scent drifts towards the approaching men, thick and smoky and stinking, getting stronger the closer they get. Several of the men nearly gag and have to put handkerchiefs over their mouths and noses to breathe. Eugene can almost ignore the smell though, as his eyes are focused on high barbed wire fence in front of him. As he gets closer he can see a gate shut with a heavy chain and padlock. And behind the fence...

He registers the faces, the shaven heads, the skeleton-like limbs, but only for a moment, because all the details come together into a bigger picture: these are people who need help. As a medic, it is his job to help people who need it, and his mind immediately thinks of what he should do first. While he is preparing a plan of action, however, most of the other men have been stunned into silence. They can only stare, horrified and disbelieving. Nobody says anything, not the soldiers, not the men in the barbed wire cage.

As soon as the gate is opened Eugene gets to work.

Dear Renée,

Eugene stops after writing the first line. Back at Landsberg, in the house the soldiers are temporarily occupying, he sits at a kitchen table, paper in front of him and pen in hand, trying to write to Renée, since he's fallen a bit behind during the move from Mourmelon. However hard he wracks his brain though, he can't find the words.

He writes slowly, stalling for time even though nobody is pressuring him. I'm sorry this letter is a bit late–Easy Company was being moved to Landsberg, and I didn't have an opportunity to send any letters. We arrived in Landsberg this morning, but Major Winters doesn't expect we'll be staying long.

He stops again.

When he wrote to her about Jackson, he had made a decision not to hide things, no matter how horrible, from Renée. That decision had been what kept him sane over the last few months, the luxury of telling another human being and have them understand what it was like. What he saw today, however, is beyond description, and Eugene finds himself rethinking his decision.

The images come back to haunt him. It is beyond imagination, what they saw today. Skeletal hands reaching, emaciated bodies that shook with the effort of standing, breaths that rattled in dry throats. And the eyes, God, the eyes. Sunken and shadowed with emptiness, devoid even of despair or rage. It was clear the prisoners were past that. It was a miracle that any of them were alive at all.

There are three lines on his paper. The empty expanse challenges him, daring him to write more. Eugene's pen hovers an inch above the paper.

In the end, this is what Eugene's letter reads:

Dear Renée,

I'm sorry this letter is a bit late–Easy Company was being moved to Landsberg, and I didn't have an opportunity to send any letters. We arrived in Landsberg this morning, but Major Winters doesn't expect we'll be staying long.

I've got something rather terrible to tell you about this time, so just be warned as you read, because this is not going to be a happy letter.

When we got into town E Company was assigned to patrol the woods. We didn't really expect to find anything, but Frank Perconte came running back saying they'd found something the major needed to see. Winters called the entire company together, and we headed out.

I don't know how I can describe this to you so that you will be able to fully realize the sheer horror of what we found today. It was a work camp–in German, the word is arbeitslager. At least, that was what it was in name. In reality, it was a death camp. Piles of corpses lay everywhere, hastily half-buried by the Nazis before they fled, and the stench of death was thick on the air. There were survivors. Hundreds of men, starved and broken by the force of hard labor, oppression, and unbridled disgust. They were painfully, horrifyingly thin, so brittle that it seemed that they would break from a gust of Nazis would not even submit a rabid dog to the kind of treatment they gave these men we found. And these men were subjected to this why? Because they were Jewish.

I can't get the images out of my head. Somehow when my friends die in my arms I manage to soldier on, but the suffering of these strangers has seared itself into my brain. Renée, you have no idea, the sheer brutality that that camp possessed. The prisoners had numbers tattooed on their arms. They weren't men, they were cattle. You should have seen the way they attacked the food we brought them. It was like watching starving, desperate animals, seeing they way they clamored for bread. Nothing else in the world mattered to them as much as that precious fistful of bread.

When we got back to town for the night I went to check on Joe Liebgott. He is one of the few Jewish men in Easy Company, and I think he had been hit the hardest by the discovery than the rest of us. He pushed me away though, first saying "I'm fine, Doc," when I asked him if he was alright. When I persisted he just ignored me, turning away to hide his face. I let him be, because there wasn't anything I could do anyways, besides let him know I was there for him. I told Webster to keep an eye on him and let me know how he's doing.

I'm sorry this letter is so short, but I didn't want to horrify you too much with too many details. However, I did want to tell you, because I figured eventually you'd find out anyways, and I didn't want to hide it.

Yours,

Eugene

Sorry for another short chapter, I was busy this week with moving back to school so I didn't get to write much. I hope you enjoyed the chapter anyways. Only two more chapters left in this story! Thanks to ChocAndSnow19, Paratrooper56, and God's Soldier With a Message for your kind reviews! As always, reviews are loved and appreciated~