Welcome, friend.

Have a seat by the fire.

Make yourself comfortable.

The children slumbered as dawn crept over a frozen plain.

Their kind, fast asleep.

Adrift in a shadowland of dreams.

Monstrous dreams.

You're listening to Camp Fire Radio Theater.

Tonight's tale written by John Ballantyne takes us to a remote Romanian village

toward the end of World War II,

a place where townsfolk speak in hushed whispers even now in regard to the master's hungry

children. Children.

We've scattered the village, Colonel. The area is secure. We'll have no problems with the Russian snipers here.

What about the rock church, sir? Off in the meadow.

It's a poor line of sight. My men assure me it's abandoned, though.

I doubt there's a structure here tall enough to make an effective sniper's nest, good work, Lieutenant Eichol.

No one here to hold a rifle unless these livestock have evolved the dexterity.

Not a living soul in the street. Nothing but animals.

I suppose they cower in their homes, sad little peasants.

Attention citizens of whatever you call this dirt clod of a town.

I am Colonel Victor Kruger of the German army.

We are in need of supplies and shelter.

...