of the interned civilians, opened a small booth where some extras such as we so urgently desired could be procured.  This booth, about as large as the bathing machine common to our seaside resorts, was situate in the centre of the camp.  The diminutive dimensions of the “shop” prevented the woman carrying extensive stocks, and, as a rule she was cleared right out before mid-day.  Her specialities were sweets, fruit, canned foods, herrings, and such like, but in extremely limited quantities.

This shop became known throughout the colony as the “Pond-side” stores, and the nickname was apt.  Why, constitutes a little story in itself.  It virtually occupied the centre of the main thoroughfare, and certainly became the busiest corner in the community.  But at this point the land made a sudden dip.  Consequently, when we were visited by rainstorms, and it does rain in Germany, rendering a British torrential downpour a Scotch mist by comparison, the rain water, unable to escape, gathered in this depression, forming a respectable pond, with the booth or stores standing, a dejected island, in the middle.

If the storm were unduly heavy this pond assumed imposing dimensions.  One day I decided to measure it, so arming myself with a foot-rule I waded deliberately through its length and width with my crude measuring device to find that it was 133-1/2 feet long by 25 feet wide, and ranged from 6 inches to 2-1/2 feet in depth.  While engaged in this occupation I was surprised by an officer, who, catching sight of my rule, sharply demanded what I was doing?  I told him frankly, and there was a lively breeze between us.

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Naturally one will ask how it was that such a pond could form in the heart of the camp.  To the British mind, saturated as it is with blind faith in German superior abilities in every ramification of human endeavour, it may seem incomprehensible, and the formation of the lake may be charitably attributed to the rain-water drainage system becoming choked, thus effectively preventing the escape of the water.  But there was no drain to cope with this water, and what is more to the point the nuisance was never overcome until the British prisoners themselves took the matter in hand.

When the water was lying in this depression a trip to the Stores became an adventure.  To obviate the necessity of wading through the noisome water we secured a plank gangway upon boxes and barrels.  The pathway thus formed was only a few inches in width and precarious.  The gangway ran out from one bank to the stores, thence on to the opposite bank, so that it was possible for the men to pass to the shop and to dry land in single file.  If one were at the extreme end of the queue one might confidently expect to wait from two to three hours before reaching the shop, only then to be disappointed because it had been cleared out of everything edible.