Author's Note: Hello, all! This is my first foray into the fandom of "War Horse". And, may I say, that I'm not even as much a fan of the movie as I am a fan of history, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Tom Hiddleston. Anyway, in the movie it really bothered me that it appeared Benedict's Character, Maj. Jamie Stewart was the only man who survived the charge, (besides Charlie Waverly, the soldier with a fancy hat) and we didn't even get to see for certain what happened to him. The last we see is him getting off of his horse in the middle of a circle of German soldiers. Upon looking up the history, I found out that he actually went MIA and nobody really knows what happened to him. So that was my cue to write a fanciful idea of what COULD have happened. I've read a lot of survivors' accounts of German camps, so it's based off of that. It's pretty rough in the meantime, but I promise, I PROMISE there will be a happy end. And nobody dies. So. ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Jamie. The Commandant, however, I claim responsibility for.

Behind the Iron Beasts

4-21-2012

Being an embellished speculation of what might have happened after Major Jamie of the British cavalry was taken by German soldiers on the field, after the heroic charge of the cavalry upon the German heavy artillery ended with the death of nearly every British soldier, excepting Jamie and another injured minor officer.

The truck rattled and jostled on the rutted dirt track. Captain Jamie Stewart was sitting on a bench in the back, crowded in among five or six German soldiers and officers. He was handcuffed, of course. They were silent, and had been for the last seven hours or so, but now a German peered out of the back of the canvass-covered transport and returned to sit across from Jamie. He pulled a scissors and razor from his pocket and held them toward Jamie.

"Shave," he said, simply. Jamie completely got rid of his mustache. He was looking in a shard of broken glass as a mirror, that a German provided. A slight smile creased his pale face as he thought how much younger he looked without one. More like the 23 years he was than the 35 he was used to portraying in the army. He was a Major in the British Cavalry, and it always was useful to make the new recruits think he was a good several years older than they were. Being finished, he held the scissors and razor back toward the German. The officer made no motion to take them back.

"Your hair. It must go. You'll have no need of it where you're going."

Jamie gave a little laugh, and kept the scissors and razor still proffered in his outstretched hand.

"It's quite alright; I like it pretty well the way it is."

A young, rough soldier seated next to Jamie grabbed his head roughly with his large hands and his mate on the other side began forcing Jamie's hand holding the razor toward his head.

"You will do what you're told, Brit!"

"Hans, Friedrich. Desist. He will be the one dealing with the lice anyway." The firm voice of their superior made the soldiers take their hands off of Jamie and sit quietly, with a smirk directed his way. He smiled in return, and the superior took the shaving implements back.

Jamie stepped out of the back of the truck. The sky was grey. The scene was grey in every aspect. There were guard towers outlined against the sky on the other side of the camp. The numbered huts and buildings were drab and monotonous, the ground was thick grey mud. Four Germans stepped out after him and escorted him to the door of the nearest building.

"You've brought me a pretty one this time, Gustav!" the Commandant of the camp said, standing in the door of the building. "What a smart uniform! Who is he?"

"Major Jamie Stewart of the British Cavalry, sir," one of the escort answered, "The fool who led 300 cavalry against our camp near the French coast."

"Ah, a prisoner of war?" the Commandant said, then turning to the rest of the men, "thank you. You may go. Since he is so important, we will take good care of him here." All of the escort tramped through the mud back to the truck, except one. "Follow me in here and we will complete the paperwork. Bring him," the Commandant said shortly, and went back inside.

Inside was a small dark room, though clean, with a desk and a few chairs. Two or three German guards off-duty lounged about smoking, and looked on with mild interest as Jamie was brought in. Jamie stood before the desk, erect and proud. His one remaining escort stood beside him, bending over the paper on the desk with a pen, scribbling here, and writing there. Finally he straightened up and threw the pen down on the desk. The paper was picked up by the Commandant behind the desk and placed in a drawer.

"Very well, thank you, Gustav. You may go if you wish, but if you have time, perhaps you'd like to stay to see him settled in a bit?"

Gustav grinned.

"Certainly!"

The Germans that had been lounging around stood up and closed around Jamie, grinning. One of them snatched the cap off Jamie's head. The head officer came around the desk and the guards made way for him to get close to Jamie. He looked admiringly at Jamie's uniform jacket, and then his eyes traveled down to Jamie's hand, where a ruby glinted from a ring of gold. It had been a gift to Jamie from his sweetheart on the day he left England for the war.

"You shouldn't wear such pretty things here;" said the Commandant, "they might get dirty. I will keep it for you." He turned to the others. "Take it off him."

Jamie let the ring slide from his finger without comment, though he was stiff with defiance and anger. The Commandant stepped around his desk and dropped the ring into a drawer.

"The jacket is mine, you bloody German gits!" Jamie spat, quietly but potently, as the guards proceeded to take his handsome jacket, leaving him with a plain white shirt beneath. The Commandant raised his eyebrows.

"Ah, but you must know you cannot talk like that here! You must have more respect. We will have to punish you. Fritz, how are the correction chambers?"

"Full, sir. All are in use."

"That's alright. We can make an example of him in the open here, so others will learn as well. Bring him over to the doorway. You and you, each of you hold one of his hands to the doorposts on either side, like so." The Commandant spread his hands wide. "And keep him standing as long as you may. Fritz, the rod."

Gustav chuckled as Fritz retrieved a heavy rod from the corner.

"I'm glad I stayed to watch!"

Jamie didn't struggle as his arms were grabbed by the two guards indicated to hold him still while the punishment went on. The Commandant took a thin willow switch out of his desk and went through the door, and then turned and faced Jamie, who by now was standing in the doorway, his hands on the doorposts on either side of him and two guards holding them there, facing outward. Fritz with the rod stood behind Jamie, the officer with the thin switch in front of him. Gustav watched, grinning. The Commandant said; "I will expect you to remain still. Of course, you cannot help but struggle a little; no one can, but if you break free of my men it will be very unpleasant for you."

Fritz struck Jamie brutally in the back with the rod. Jamie jolted forward a little with the force of the blow and a grunt escaped him, but he didn't struggle. The Officer stepped close to his face.

"You made a sound! Real men do not make a sound as they suffer. We must teach you to be a man." He whipped the willow switch across Jamie's face. It stung terribly. Another blow from behind. Jamie repressed the grunt this time to save himself from the willow sprig.

"Ah!" the Commandant said, "defying and rebelling against our punishment, eh?" and the willow-switch lashed across Jamie's face again. And on it went. Finally the Commandant held up his hand for Fritz to stop. Jamie was breathing harder than usual, but otherwise was silent, though he was weak with pain and relied heavily on the guards to keep him standing. The guards that had been holding him gave him a mighty shove from behind and sent him into the mud outside in a heap at the feet of the Commandant. Jamie's hands covered his welted, stinging face as he fell into a sort of daze. The Commandant kicked at him in distain.

"Your barracks are two building down on the right, Block 17. You may go there, or lie here as an example to the others that pass by." The Commandant and guards went back inside. Jamie did not get up, but lay nearly senseless in the mud outside.

It began to rain.

Author's Note: So there you have it! Chapter one. What did you think? Not a happy beginning. I wasn't even going to post this story (too embarrassing), but then I found the picture of Benedict on Pinterest, and it fit the story so perfectly that I HAD to use it as the cover. So here we are. Please, feel free to give notes, comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism. Historical correction is also appreciated. In fact, do more than feel free to leave them...PLEASE, PLEASE DO! I ignore flames.