The transport truck screeched to a halt, its tires kicking up dirt as the iron doors groaned open. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood, sweat, and exhaust.
"Raus! Move it!" a German soldier barked, his rifle slung across his chest.
Seventeen-year-old Private Daniel "Danny" Callahan hesitated for only a second before clambering down. His boots hit the packed earth with a dull thud, his shoulder aching from the rifle butt he'd taken earlier. He wasn't sure how long he'd been crammed in that truck—long enough for his legs to go stiff and his mind to spin with a thousand thoughts.
The men around him shuffled forward, heads down, expressions hardened. They had accepted their fate. But Danny? He was still reeling from the fact that he'd been captured at all.This wasn't supposed to happen.Danny clenched his fists. He had trained, he had fought, and still, the Germans had caught him. Maybe his lieutenant had been right—maybe he was too young for this war.
He squared his shoulders as they approached the gates of Stalag 13.The place wasn't as terrifying as he'd expected—no towering watchtowers with snipers perched inside, no rows of beaten-down prisoners shuffling like the living dead. But it was still a prison.
"Schweinehund! Faster!"
Danny gritted his teeth as he was shoved forward, the sharp metal of a rifle barrel pressing against his back.And then, as if on cue, he heard a voice.
"Easy there, Fritz. You break 'im before he's even unpacked, and Klink's gonna have a fit."
Danny looked up. A tall, dark-haired man stood in the yard, arms crossed, watching the scene with an almost amused expression.The German soldier grumbled something under his breath before marching away, leaving Danny to blink up at his new observer.The man stepped forward, his blue eyes sharp.
"Well, well. Looks like we've got ourselves a junior recruit."
Danny clenched his jaw. "I'm eighteen," he lied automatically.
The man smirked. "Uh-huh. Sure, kid." He studied Danny for a moment, then stuck out his hand.
"Colonel Robert Hogan."Danny hesitated, then shook it, surprised by the firm grip.
"Private Daniel Callahan, U.S. Army."
"Well, Private Callahan, welcome to the strangest POW camp in all of Germany."
Danny barely had time to process that before another voice piped up from behind Hogan.
"He's just a kid, Colonel!"
Danny turned to find a shorter, round-faced man shaking his head. His uniform was a little looser, his expression friendly but clearly concerned.
"Sergeant Andrew Carter," Hogan said, motioning toward him.
"Our demolitions expert."
Danny's eyes widened. "Demolitions? In a POW camp?"
Hogan's smirk widened, but before he could say more, another voice cut in.
"Oh, mon dieu, look at him! He is skin and bones! Have they not been feeding you, mon petit?"
Danny barely had time to react before a smaller man with dark curls—Corporal Louis LeBeau—grabbed his arm and started inspecting him like he was a wounded animal.
"I, uh—" Danny started.
"I shall make you something decent to eat," LeBeau announced, already heading toward one of the barracks.Danny blinked in confusion.
"Uh... thanks?"
A British voice cut in next."Well, looks like we've adopted ourselves a stray."
Danny turned to see a man with a sharp grin and a cocky stance.
"Corporal Peter Newkirk," Hogan introduced.
"Resident pickpocket."Newkirk gave a little bow. "Pleasure, mate."
Danny opened his mouth to respond, but then another voice—a loud, exasperated German one—echoed from the office across the yard.
"Hoooogaaaaaaan!"Hogan sighed.
"And that would be our beloved Kommandant."
Danny frowned. "Wait—you run things around here?"
Newkirk chuckled. "Not officially. But Klink's too stupid to know better."
Danny couldn't help but grin at that
."Alright, let's get you settled," Hogan said. "Newkirk, Carter, get the kid some clean clothes. LeBeau, once you're done stuffing him like a Thanksgiving turkey, we'll fill him in."
Danny hesitated. "Fill me in on what?"Hogan just smirked. "Oh, you'll see."
later that night
Danny sat on a cot, now wearing a slightly oversized POW uniform that smelled faintly of soap.
LeBeau had practically force-fed him stew, Carter had talked his ear off about explosives, and Newkirk had already tried to teach him how to pickpocket.It was overwhelming.
And yet… it was the first time since his capture that he'd felt anything other than fear.As he stretched, Hogan appeared in the doorway.
"You holding up alright, kid?"
Danny nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for everything, Colonel."
Hogan studied him for a moment. "You shouldn't be here."
Danny swallowed. "I know."
Hogan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're young. Too young for this. But now that you're here, you listen to me and my men, got it?"
Danny frowned. "I can take care of myself."
Hogan arched a brow. "Uh-huh. Sure. And that's why you got captured?"Danny flinched.
Hogan's expression softened. "Look, I get it. You wanna prove yourself. But in this camp, we look out for each other. That means no heroics, no wandering off, and absolutely no getting caught sneaking around. Got it?"
Danny hesitated before nodding.
"Good." Hogan turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Callahan?"Danny looked up."Welcome to the family."Danny stared after him as he left, something warm settling in his chest.
For the first time in weeks, he felt safe.