Then they were gathered up by some of the prisoners, and carried into the Revier.

* * *

Just as the three unconscious ones were carried away, three other Russians, not knowing what was in store for them, came in.  We did not see them until they walked in at the gate.  They also had been on farms, and were now refusing to work longer.  They came into the hut, where their frightened countrymen were huddled together, some praying and some in tears.  The newcomers did not know what had happened.  But they were not left long in doubt.  An N.C.O. called to them to “heraus,” and when they came into the yard, he started them to run.  The men were tired and hungry.  They had already spent months on the farms, working long hours:  that did not save them.  They had dared to rebel, so their spirits must be broken.

Our hearts were torn with rage and pity.  We stormed in and out of the huts like crazy men, but there was nothing we could do.  There were so few of us, and of course we were unarmed.  There was no protest or entreaty we could make that would have made any appeal.  Orders were orders!  It was for the good of Germany—­to make her a greater nation—­that these men should work—­the longer hours the better—­to help to reclaim the bad land, to cultivate the fields, to raise more crops to feed more soldiers to take more prisoners to cultivate more land to raise more crops.

It was perfectly clear to the Teutonic mind.  No link in the chain must be broken.  Deutschland ueber Alles!

At noon the Russians were still running—­it is astonishing what the human machine can stand!  The N.C.O. impatiently snapped his watch and slashed at the one who was passing him, to speed them up, and so hasten the process.  He was getting hungry and wanted his dinner.  Then an order came from the Commandant that it was to be stopped—­and we hoped again, as we had the night before, that this was the end.

We brought the three poor fellows, pale and trembling, to our end of the hut, and gave them as good a meal as our parcels would afford.  One of them had a bayonet wound in his neck, which the N.C.O. had given him.  He had jabbed him with the point of his bayonet, to quicken his speed.  In spite of their exhaustion, they ate ravenously, and fell asleep at once, worn out with the long hours of working as well as by the brutal treatment they had received.

But there was no sleep for the poor victims—­until the long, black sleep of unconsciousness rolled over them and in mercy blotted out their misery—­for the N.C.O.’s came for them and dragged them away from us, and the sickening spectacle began again.

There were just eleven of us, British and Canadians, in the camp at this time, twelve of the British having been sent away; and it happened that this was the day, July 4th, that we wrote our cards.  We remembered that when the men had written cards about the lice it had brought results:  we had no other way of communication with the world, and although this was a very poor one, still it was all we had.  We knew our cards would never get out of Germany; indeed, we were afraid they would never leave the camp, but we would try.