Once outside we allowed our feelings to have full rein.  We point-blank refused to go away and fell to discussing the situation somewhat fiercely.  Evidently the tones of our voices persuaded the soldiers within that they had gone far enough, because shortly afterwards the priest re-appeared, and under escort was hurried away to his quarters.

When we next saw him we endeavoured by diplomatic questions to ascertain the reason why he had been subjected to such torture and indignity.  To him the greatest humiliation was that his torment had occurred before a woman.  But otherwise he refused to refer to the episode.  His retort, in a placid, resigned voice, was, “I only trust that God will have mercy upon them!”

The priests were denied all opportunity to move about the camp.  There were scores of co-religionists among us, but they were stedfastly refused the comfort which the Fathers could have given them.  The priests were not permitted to minister to the spiritual welfare of their flocks.  As a matter of fact, by the strict instruction of Major Bach, no religious services of any description were permitted in the camp, at least not while I was under his sway.

To the members of the Roman Catholic persuasion the brow-beating, badgering, baiting and buffeting of the helpless priests acted as a red rag to a bull.  But what could they do?  Protest was merely so much wasted energy.  Communication with anyone outside the camp was absolutely impossible.  To have reviled Major Bach for his cruelty and carefully planned barbarity would only have brought down upon us further and more terrible punishment of such ferocity as would have made everyone long for the respite of the grave.

But the priests could not be broken, no matter to what physical and mental suffering they were subjected.  Even Major Bach discovered to his chagrin that his devilish ingenuity had encountered an insuperable obstacle.  To wreak his revenge he now compelled the Fathers to carry out all the dirtiest and most revolting work in the camp—­duties so repulsive as to be beyond description.  But the good men never murmured.  They did exactly as they were bidden, and even the guards at last appeared to realise the fact that their fertility in torment was of no avail in attempting to infuriate their meek charges.

Major Bach, however, was by no means cast down at his failures.  One morning he ordered the twenty-two priests to be paraded.  They were then loaded up with a variety of cumbersome and heavy implements—­spades, picks, shovels, and such like.  Each load would have taxed the strength of a young man in the pink of condition and strength to carry, and yet here were old men, ranging between sixty and seventy years, compelled to shoulder such burdens.  But they did it.

An order was rapped out, the guard wheeled, and the tiny party moved off.  We discovered afterwards that they were marched three miles along the sandy road in the blazing sun to a point where they were roughly bidden to dig a huge pit.