Earlier today, the authorities gave me permission to eat from the guard's mess hall, and outfitted me with better-fitting clothes, even though they still clothed me in stripes. They said they would give me a coat when the weather got cold enough in a couple months. I don't exactly think I would enjoy wearing a coat in June anyway.

I am thankful for the authorization the guards gave me, and the cooked food is still warm when I gather it onto my plate. The potatoes taste amazing, and so does the beer served. Everything tastes great, and I don't think you understand why. When you are so close to starvation, and death from it surrounds you everyday, then you come to worship a full stomach.

When my ration of potatoes runs out, I break the bread in half, putting one piece in my mouth and the other in my pocket. I give my plate to the Jewish kitchenboy, and inwardly smile when he licks the crumbs and nonexistent leftovers from it, then places it in a foaming sink. He looks about six, he's short and pudgy, and his fingers are still chubby from his child-like form. He shouldn't have to deal with these horrors. I still look at him, and he gives me a toothless smile.

"Don't worry, mister. I can take care of these plates." I frown, and break off a fourth of my bread, handing it to him through the small window. His eyes widen, and he smiled even brighter. "Thanks!" He says as he takes it, beginning to eat the bread greedily. I smile softly, and take my leave, heading out the back door into the alleyway between the barracks and the mess hall.

I grab a rationed cigarette from my pocket, lighting it up with a lighter given to me by the one of the guards. The cigarette lit nicely, and glowed orange as I inhaled the smokes. It was relaxing, just me and myself, outside. The sky was blue, and the weather was warm. For a second, I actually forgot where I was, but it didn't matter.

Beside me, the dumpster rustled loudly, and I kicked it with my foot, thinking it was just a bunch of filthy rats that loitered around the mess. But I was sorely mistaken when the dumpster, or whatever was inside it, shrieked.

"I-I am just a box of dumpster faeries!" Someone from inside the dumpster laughed nervously. "Nothing to see here, just go away." I frowned, glaring at the box in confusion.. Who in their right mind would hide in a dumpster?

I lifted the lid to peak into the box, but the man inside wailed, almost tackling me as he shouted out excuses and apologies. "Please, please don't kill me, I'm sorry!" He wailed, begging, and hanging off me like some kind of leech... That just came out of a dumpster. "Please, I have relatives in Berlin! Please, just please don't kill me!" He clung to my shirt, tears soaking it as they ran from his eyes. "I have three brothers and three sisters! Please don't kill me!" I groaned, trying to pry him off me. He was ruining my hair, knocking it out of place with his hands.

"Alright, alright! Just shut up!" I yelled, and he did, which finally gave me the time to get him off and away from me. Then I realised someone in the mess hall had probably heard our conversation, and faint footsteps made their way toward the back exit.

I took the man by his hair, dragging him behind the dumpster, and silencing him with my hand. It clasped around his mouth, and he trembled in my embrace. His breathing spiked, and he squirmed, trying his best to break away from my arms, but I only held him tighter.

"Shh, don't make a noise." I whispered in his ear, listening to his breathing slow down, and his wriggling stopped. I hugged him closer to my chest, listening to the door to the mess open, and shut. Someone walked over to the dumpster, and opening it. I could hear them hum in thought, then they turned to leave, heading back into the mess hall.

I held the man a little longer, waiting until both our hearts and breathing slowed a bit, before releasing him, watching as he stood. He swept some of the dust off his pants, and held his hand out to me. I took it with some hesitation, helping the man to pull me to my feet. He smiled.

"My name is Feliciano Vargas." He said to me. "Thank you."

I nodded. "Your welcome. My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt." I frowned. "It has been nice meeting you, but my shift starts soon, if you don't mind." And I walked away, but not before I handed him parts of the bread that were in my pocket. He needed them much more than I did.


The boat trip to England was horrible, absolutely horrible! I'm just glad we didn't get blown up by a U-boat, or something, because that would've sucked.

Nah, it wasn't that bad, it was just a rough ride. Made me vomit all over myself a lot, so I had to carry a slop bucket around wherever I went. BUT, during the ride, I did make a new friend. I somehow didn't see this guy, and I bumped into him, and that's how we met. I think he said his name was Matthew, or something. He's Canadian, but I don't know how they pronounce words like that up in the great white north, so I just call him Mattie.

He was often seasick too, and we'd hang out around the rails together, puking our guts out as we talked about sports and other things. But when we finally arrived in London, I was hoping to just relax and enjoy some food (though, to be honest, I don't think it's possible to enjoy English food..), but instead, we were driven straight to the airfield.

The accommodations were fairly comfortable, nothing special, but as we were given a tour, I bumped into a short, obviously British man with blond hair and green eyes. I didn't think he'd be anything special, but later on, I'd be proven wrong. Shh, I don't want to spoil the story for any of you, so I won't say anything.

The man curses me, glaring up with his strikingly pretty green eyes. No, seriously, they were.. like emeralds..

"Bloody hell, watch where you're going!" He yells at me, but I just smile sheepishly and step out of his way, watching as he continues past me in a huff. I'd look for him every day after that, purposely bumping into him just to get his attention. I learned he was my bunkmate's brother, so he'd come around fairly often to talk to him, and I'd just take the chance to listen in on his conversations. Something about him drew me in, and soon he finally, really did begin to notice my interest in him.

One night, my bunkmate, Iain, and I were playing cards, drinking a bit of the rationed rum, when he showed up to talk to Iain. The Scotsman smiled, insisting that his brother join in the card game, and I was finally formally introduced to Arthur. He said he worked for a pub down the street from the airfield, and insisted that we show up sometime. Whenever we got our leave, we said, the two of us would visit Iain's younger brother there.

A/N: Well, this chapter isn't meant to be serious, but it's actually a bit more serious than it was before... fail!Alfred writing, yay~ and I finally give you people some gerita! You all should be happy and thank me.