The remaining prisoners seemed to be destined to burn with the camp.
For the second time my friend and I decided to escape. We had been given an order to bury three men outside the barbed wire fence.
We were the only two in camp who had strength enough to do the job.
Nearly all the others lay in the few huts which were still in use, prostrate with fever and delirium.
We now made our plans: along with the first body we would smuggle out my friend’s rucksack, hiding it in the old laundry tub which served as a coffin.
When we took out the second body we would also carry out my rucksack, and on the third trip we intended to make our escape.
The first two trips went according to plan. After we returned, I waited while my friend tried to find a piece of bread
so that we would have something to eat during the next few days in the woods.
I waited. Minutes passed. I became more and more impatient as he did not return.
After three years of imprisonment, I was picturing freedom joyously, imagining how wonderful it would be to run toward the battle-front.
But we did not get that far. The very moment when my friend came back, the camp gate was thrown open.
A splendid, aluminum-colored car, on which were painted large red crosses, slowly rolled on to the parade ground.
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