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[Page 23]
counting something like this "Alles' Loose Gosen, Eine, Swei, drei" a Russian interrupts and a storm of language peals forth. Again the Hun commences, "Eine Swei, Drei" then a party of Russians weighing their bread, will create a disturbance. One fellow discovers that his neighbour has a fraction of an ounce extra; and the scene turns into an indescribable medley. However, the Hun succeeds is issuing the bread. The Russians use an improvised scale, made with three sticks and several pieces of string resembling a capital T. The weighting is quite fair and is the only means of giving satisfaction where Russians are concerned. The ward gets is more repulsive daily.
20TH. 10. A. M. The interpreter informed me that I was required for X-ray. A few minutes later, several Englishmen (recovering from wounds and illness received in reprisal camps) carried me down stairs (head up this time) into the street. I was carried about one mile, to a Hun Lazarett near the railway station. The Lazarett is a gorgeous building. Judging the interior from meagre observation, I should say it is fitted with the most up-to-date wards and appliances essential to the comfort of wounded and sick, returned from the lines. Men unfit to travel into Germany are detained here, and treated until sufficiently well enough to travel and not infrequently the numbers exceed ambulance accomodation. This type of hospital is used exclusively for Huns. I passed down a long corridor before reaching the X-Ray room, which is beautifully fitted with "Rontgen"rays and numerous photographic appliances. I noticed innumerable French girls working in the hospital, including two in the X-Ray room. Two photos were taken of my knee. During this time not a single word was spoken to me. I was finally carried into the corridor where several Hun officers signalled the bearers to stop. They asked questions in German, which were meaningless to me. They showed great interest, and not until they were quite satisfied with our identity, did they allow the bearers to proceed. During the journey back to the Prisoner of War hospital, French women endeavoured to give me cigarettes and biscuits, but, unfortunately, the Postern promptly interrupted, and threatened