The suspension on the truck was working overtime trying to smooth out the ride over the crudely cut path made over by the panzer ahead of them, he could almost feel every little nook and cranny on the forest floor as they drove through, and it was really pissing him off. Not that he wasn't already. This was the worst situation you could find yourself in. Captured, prisoners of war, with no idea as to where the enemy means to do with you, with little more than the uniform on your back. They had taken their kits and all their weapons, including their helmets, leaving them with their woolen caps. They were totally and utterly defenseless.

He looked out past the two brawny Germans to see the other Opal trucks following suit behind them, their chassis hobbling and bouncing as their suspensions bounded and leaped, their headlights nearly blinding in the dead of night. He caught a glimpse of the lone motorbike driving along besides the truck behind them to the right, he couldn't imagine that was fun to ride through this shit.

He brought his focus back to the interior of the bed, which was covered in a light green covering with small holes cut through the frame to form window ports of sorts, and the benches they sat on were painted wood with a hint of splintering age, but otherwise well cared for and sanded. Miller was sat across from him, his face neutral, his hands on his lap. Brown sat next to him, his face contorted with anger, and across from him was Garcia, who looked more nervous than all of them. They were flanked on both sides by four Germans in full kit, the two up to the end, the first ones out to lower the wall bed, and two more next to Brown and Garcia, up against the cabin. One wielding an submachine gun rather than the bolts, and held the markings of Squad leader.

They sat there in the silence for sometime, the thudding of the wheels against the earth and the roar of engines being the only sounds heard around for miles. The moon was still high in the sky. Their two brawny captors, he saw, kept sneaking glances at them, but their eyes were mostly guided to their uniforms than anything else.

"Sind Sie sicher, dass Sie sind, wer die wichtigsten sagt?" One of them whispered to the other, speaking in German.

"Amerikanische, sagten Sie?" The other responded under his breath, "Klingt vertraut, dass wort."

He nodded ever slightly, "So funktioniert Ihre uniformen, und die flagge."

"Sie Gemeinsame sprechen."

The squad leader rose his head over Garcia, "Ihr zwei! Ruhig sein!" He snapped. The other two went rigid at his command.

Castillo could only look forward and do nothing, Fucking Krauts. He thought.

After what felt like many, agonizing, slow, hours, Castillo was shook from his thoughts as the truck jumped and the ground under them smoothed out. He looked out the back of the bed, to find that they were now on a dirt road. Where it lead, he obviously didn't know, but it couldn't be anywhere good. They stopped alongside the road to let the other trucks and the motorbike regain formation, then they set off once more.

"Where you think they are taking us, sir?" Garcia whispered to him, a slight strain on his voice. He had heard many things about German P.O.W camps, mostly bad, very bad, and little good. Castillo could feel the terror in his gut.

"I don't know." He simply answered.

Far behind them, in the bed of the last truck, Herrera was seated looking over Lee and Davis. They had both been stabilized for the time being, and Davis was no longer bleeding profusely, and had been covered with thick grey wool blankets the German medics had brought. There were only two, and both of them were seated across from him; their white helmets and tabards, both painted with large red crosses, stuck out pure from their grey uniforms, and they found a great deal of interest in his wounded comrades along with himself. The pony medic besides him, Silk Touch, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but paid little mind to Herrera after they had finished working with Lee and Davis. Then there were the two bed guards, and two more towards the cabin, but they, just as Silk Touch, paid little mind to the Americans, preferring to watch the road behind them, scanning the edges of the forest.

Then he noticed something hovering far behind them, small black silhouettes drifting through the air, just below cloud level. He remembered the winged ponies up in the clouds, almost invisible as their grey coats blended with the night sky, the gleam of their helmets and glare of their guns the only way to make them out.

"That is the Major and her rear guard. Not everything in the Everfree is grounded, you see." He heard Silk Touch's voice, it was on the lighter side for a male, but he couldn't imagine the name could push any more feminine.

He looked over at him, "So you can stand on clouds too?"

Silk Touch shook his head, the helm tottering ever so slightly, it was just a little too big around the ears, "No, only pegasi. You saw them flying earlier."

"I can't say I was believing everything I was seeing at the time."

"You still aren't." Silk Touch pressed.

The guards didn't seem to mind the two talking, Herrera noticed. Perhaps it was because it was a human-pony conversation, the medics also didn't care it seemed, but they were all listening intently.

"I can't say that I am."

The truck stopped suddenly, and they were left motionless for a moment, there were some distant voices yelling back and forth ahead of them he could hear, calls, and then they were back on the move again. He strained his neck to look out the peak slits in the canvas, it was just trees for a second, then it opened up to a large, clear field, then his stomach lurched at what little he could see and quickly looked to Silk Touch, then the guards, then the medics across from him.

"Welcome to Teutos." One said.

They passed through the gate, and the darkness of the forest beyond was slowly cut out of view as the large steel doors creaked to a close.

The convoy lumbered its way along the smooth dirt roadway, the roar of engines and the cluttering of tank treads were sure to have the whole fort up, especially as they passed a few barracks that had been sectioned along the road, a few soldiers, all being human, were already out the door, looking on at the convoy that had woke them at such an hour. Guards cleared the way for the line, as if the sight of a throttling panzer wasn't enough to make them clear out. At one point, the medical truck had veered off down another path.

They were soon all met by a large courtyard, large enough to let the entire convoy move freely into position, with the trucks lining up side by side, their hatches faced into the yard, and the motorbike set just a few yards faced back at them, Saxon's panzer lined up horizontal to the vertical line of the trucks, surely there to keep his MGs trained on their prisoners. And once the dust had settled, the ramps were lowered.

Dust and her escort watched from the high clouds above as her platoon exited first and formed up along Saxon's panzer, followed by two platoon's worth of mixed baggage, ponies and humans, but all separated into small groups of two to three, likely by assigned platoon or company, as they all bore, while oddly similar, quite different patches and symbols on their uniforms. Lastly came the trucks which Castillo and his men were held. Two German guards each lowered the walls and hopped out, while their American counterparts were moved out and into a small formation, and were promptly escorted away into a by-building.

She jumped from the clouds no soon after, spreading her wings wide, she glided down to her platoon of ponies, and was met by Saxon as he appeared from his copula.

"The prisoners are secure, Major." He stated, a salute at his head.

She eased him and nodded, "Good, now here comes the fun part."

"Informing the Colonel?"

She looked to the large, administrative building just across the courtyard, "Yep, that and a whole lot of coffee."

He grinned, the thought of hot, fresh coffee was a welcomed one, "Let me get this old girl back to the depot, and I shall join you, I'm sure the Colonel will want a full report, even if you can give him most of it."

She looked back to him atop his behemoth, "I'm sure. I will be giving him the news on the wolves, that should give you enough time to reach back."

Saxon nodded and saluted again, before disappearing into his tank. The engine roared one more and the steel monster was off, spewing black smoke and dust into the air as it went. Dust wouldn't lie, those things scared the shit out of her, and while she really, really , loved flying, she wouldn't mind having a few more inches of armor to bounce bullets, or enough firepower to level a small village. She shook her head, she was part of the First damnit! And she'd never give that title up for all the steel in the world. Still didn't stop you from envying the guys in the Panzer Corps.

"Your orders, Major?"

She turned to find Lieutenant Chase waiting there at attention, along with the rest of 8th Platoon, well, minus two.

"Go get some rest." She answered, "All of you, you've earned it."

The ponies broke and began making their ways back to their barrack, but Dust found Chase still there, an unsure look in her eyes.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Dust raised a brow.

Chase met her eyes, "Ma'am, about my actions earlier—"

Dust cut her off, "What's done is done, Lieutenant, we will review your actions another time, but right now, go join the others, get some rest."

Chase's ears dropped a bit, but perked back up at the promise of review. She saluted, and made off to join the others. Dust shook her head, and started towards the administrative building, her trotting kicking up a bit of dirt that caught in the valleys of her shoe soles.

They were corralled together after stepping from the beds of the trucks, and were met with the dreading sight of the complex. Rows and rows of barracks and other buildings lined all along the edge of the massive courtyard, minus the openings where the roads began and ended here. It did not take a genius to realize this was the center off all operations in this fort, and Castillo was quick to pick up on the fact, and how deep in the shit he and his men were in.

"Forward!" A German yelled, an accent on his lips, and with the machine guns trained on them, they were complied to. They were escorted towards one of the long, barrack-like buildings and pushed inside. It was dark, the small windows that ran along the sides giving just enough light to allow them to see where they were walking, but they could tell the building was rather surprisingly empty, then they were greeted by another door, this one opened by a pony sentry already stationed there, revealing a small staircase that lead down to another door.

They were greeted to a small outcrop of a room, with barely any space for a desk and chair off to the side, but passed forward to a barred door. Rows and rows of cells laid beyond it, all minimally lit by a few low hanging light bulbs that ran down the stone dungeon.

Fuck me. Castillo swore inwardly.

Passing many smaller cells as they were led through the stone halls, they soon found themselves shoved into a larger holding cell, just big enough to house the nine of them and with a heavy thud and click, they were sealed behind the bars. Castillo watching them turn the key.

Brown waited for their guards to leave before kicking the bars hard, "Fucking rat bastard krauts!" He hissed.

Garcia found a corner of a cell to stand against and slid to the cold ground, and thought he kept a straight face, his legs were terribly unsteady and he found his head swimming.. Castillo slowly watched as the rest of his men followed, looks of defeat and terrible uncertainty plastered on their faces.

Moore moved up behind Castillo, "So, this is it then."

Castillo made to retort, but Grauer beat him to the punch, "We aren't dead yet. We can get out of here!"

Moore grunted, "Stuck in a damn dungeon in the middle of a nazi fort. Hell, they'll gun us down the moment we make a move. We're good as dead." He retorted.

"He at least have to try!"

"The boy's right," Miller defended, "We ain't gonna let some damn fucking krauts fuck us. If we're going to go down, we make them fight to take our last breaths."

Moore rounded on him, "So what if we escape? Where would be go? Back into that damned forest? We have no supplies! No guns! Fucking jack!"

He looked to Grauer, who was shrinking under his outburst, "And what about Herrera? Davis? Lee? You forget about them, huh? Who knows where the fuck they've taken them. They're probably already dead. Shot dead." He willowed.

"The Major promised them no harm." They had all turned to Castillo, who had not moved, but Moore was steaming again, his sudden anger fueling his resolve. Even Brown couldn't help but flinch.

"She sold us! Right into the hands of the fucking krauts! You think that fucking abomination will keep her promises!?" He bellowed.

There was silence before Castillo spoke, and when he did, he was turned to his men. "No, I do not. But our only hope of getting out of here alive is to pray she does."

Moore nor Miller was convinced, "We need some sort of plan, even if they don't check us out right away, we need to get out of here before they do." Miller reasoned, "Any ideas?" He had turned to the men along the walls, they were murmuring amongst themselves, their words of action driving them on.

"I have this." Castillo said as all eyes turned on him. In his hand was his G.I knife.

"How did they not take it off you?" Miller inquired, considering all their other kit had been taken.

"I always keep it in my boot, damn krauts never pat your bottoms. If it comes down to it, we jump the first guard we see and make a break for it. Not a solid plan, but it's a start." He carefully replaced the knife into his boot, and covered it once more.

"How long are we gonna' wait?" Johnson asked.

Castillo declared, "As long as we need to."

They sat in the dark, and waited.

Author's Note

So after a few months hiatus I finally got back into the groove of things, but fuck me, this took way to long to post. Here's hoping everyone hasn't died, and those of you that are still alive and kicking, you deserve a fucking medal.

As always criticism and feedback is appreciated.

'Till next post mates, Cheers. (Hopefully you all won't have to wait half a year for it.)