ocean of sleep.

Some time during the night--for it was still dark--I felt some one
kicking my feet and calling me to get up, and all my trouble and
misery came back with a rush. My shoulder began to ache just where it
left off, but I was so hungry that the thought of getting something
to eat sustained me. Surely, I thought, they are going to feed us!

We were herded along the narrow street, out into a wide road, where
we found an open car which ran on light rails in the centre of the
road. It was like the picnic trolley cars which run in our cities
in the warm weather. There were wounded German soldiers huddled
together, and we sat down among them, wherever we could find the
room, but not a word was spoken. I don't know whether they noticed
who we were or not--they had enough to think about, not to be
concerned with us, for most of them were terribly wounded. The one
I sat beside leaned his head against my good shoulder and sobbed as
he breathed. I could not help but think of the irony of war that had
brought us together. For all I knew, he may have been the machine
gunner who had been the means of ripping my shoulder to pieces--and
it may have been a bullet from my rifle which had torn its way along
his leg which now hung useless. Even so, there was no hard feeling
between us, and he was welcome to the support of my good shoulder!

Some time through the night--my watch was broken and I couldn't tell
the time exactly--we came to another village and got off the car. A
guard came and carried off my companion, but as I could walk, I was
left to unload myself. The step was high, and as my shoulder was very
stiff and sore, I hesitated about jumping down. A big German soldier
saw me, understood what was wrong, and lifted me gently down.