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[Page 35]
Here in this camp we fared much better, as two Tommies got permission to come in to us each morning, bringing biscuits or a good drink of warm sweet cocoa. This food had been collected in the British Compound for Britishers in the "Strafe" Barracks. The French and Russians also had their friends bring in a little food. The Frenchmen were very cunning and clanish, and would find some way of reaching his pal in distress. Then follows the Britisher, he will also do his utmost for his "Cobbers", especially those who have shown pluck in trying to get away. Of course the Russians hold together just as strongly, but they do not get as much assistance from their Home Government as the French and British, and consequently cannot do as much for their mates in "Clink."
While speaking of the Russians not getting much home assistance. A little idea of how invaluable the parcels are to us can be formed from the fact that in the camp, when I reached it the second time, in March, 1917, the poor devils had got so low through being overworked and starved that they would contract any ailments that were about, and generally succumbed, not having the strength to resist, as they were only skin and bone. One day, while going through the bath, I saw a batch of them stripped, and such a pitiful sight I have never seen, big framed men with only the frame left, and I could distinguish and count every joint in the spine, and if one bent his elbow back, his shoulder blade gave the impression of a large razor, and many times I have expected to see it cut through. Of course, with men in this state there were numerous deaths, and in intervals during the day it was quite a common sight to see men being carried to the Mortuary, who had died in the huts. So many were dying that the Prisoner Carpenters could not keep pace with necessary coffins, so that two men had to be buried in each, and in one funeral I attended 20 Russians were buried in this way. This was a daily occurence, and was still continuing when we left this camp for another from which later on we escaped, I often pictured to myself Britishers in the same plight, which we would certainly been but for that indispensible life sustaining Society, "The British Red Cross", which feeds and clothes the boys, who though not fighting the Hun, are worrying and harassing him as much as lay in their power, while captives in that land of 'Kultur", or to my mind, a more appropriate name would be the land of the "Vultures."
After having been in "Strafe" Barracks in Munster a few days, a Belgian Civilian who had tried to escape was brought in, and with some very interesting news. The town in which he had been re-captured had been bombed by our airmen, he gave us a very glowing account of the raid and in short led us to believe that the damage done was very extensive indeed, but he was of an excitable temperament, and his news had to be taken with a grain of salt, nevertheless it made our hearts light, and we determined that our punishment would be much easier to bear if such news would only continue, but the next day came the news of the Italian reverse and down went our spirits "wopp". I think there is nothing plays on the temperament of the prisoner, and elates or depresses him more than good or bad news.