"Captain Wolff, we have reports of a plane that was shot down about three kilometers from here, they are searching for survivors now, be prepared for incoming prisoners." the young soldier reported, standing at rigid attention as he spoke, saluting instantly and sharply turning and marching away once the captain had acknowledged the information. Even though the men had been serving under Captain Viktor Wolff for almost three years now, there was no comradery, no joking, always professional, almost to the rule book. Viktor Wolff wasn't one to let his men joke around with him, he demanded their respect, demanded their obedience every hours. Surprisingly, this made his men more loyal to him, never a bad word was spoken behind his back, because the commander was always fair, never played favorites. Occasionally they wished he would ease up, but every man understood that Viktor's loyalty was to the Fuhrer and no one else, and that every one of his actions reflected on his desire to serve the Fuhrer and the Third Reich, and no one could fault him that. Viktor was impeccably dressed in the Nazi uniform, and had just finished eating when the report came. It was time for him to walk the camp anyway, make sure everything was in order. He strapped on his pistols and strided out into the sunlight, just as the rumbling trucks that had gone after the plane crash came into view. There may be a new prisoner joining his work camp, and a small smile crossed Viktor's face. More labor meant more equipment turned out to support the war.