Group of English Prisoners Working on the Farms of Kossebade. The Author has a Pipe in his Mouth, and Albert, Mentioned in Chapter VI, Stands at his Right
I told him about my own adventures, and we laughed together. He had fared somewhat similarly, but he was a trained farmer and he got along more smoothly with the work.
“I wonder what the boys in the bat would say if they could see me wringing out shirts with Gretchen!” he said laughing.
“Or me sawing wood with Erna!” I added.
“Al-l-bert! Al-l-bert!” came a voice from the house.
“Well, that’s breakfast,” said Albert. “I’ll be going in. Isn’t it a game, eh?”
“Aye,” I agreed, “Ain’t it a game! So long!”
“So long. See you after!”
After breakfast we went out for a walk and visited the other prisoners in the village, especially the three other Englishmen, and the two old Frenchmen who had been in the village since ’14. The five Serbians formed a little group of their own and the Russians, some thirty-five in number, formed another. The latter had one Sunday pastime, Einundzwanzig. Month in and month out, some of them for two, three and four years, they followed this monotonous existence—six days of work and one of cards.