you'll soon change your mind," saying which he slammed the door with
extra vigour.

The only interlude to the daily round is shortly after sweeping cells.
The doors are thrown open and each prisoner, armed with his water jug
and sanitary pan, forms up in line in the corridor. They are spaced two
paces apart and this distance must be rigorously maintained. If you vary
it a fraction a smart rap over the head with the rifle brings you back
again to the correct position. The German warders never attempt to
correct by words. The rifle is a handy weapon and a smart knock
therewith is always forceful. Consequently, if you are dull of
comprehension, your body speedily assumes a zebra appearance with its
patches of black and blue.

We were marched off to a huge yard flanked by a towering wall studded
with hundreds of heavily barred windows--cells. Only those resident in
the "Avenue of the Damned" experience this limited latitude, the
ordinary prisoners being extended the privilege of ordinary exercise.
Not a word must be spoken; to do so is to invite a crash over the head,
insensibility being an effective protection against communication
between prisoners.

Reaching the yard we were lined up, still two paces apart and under the
hawk-eyes of the guard. Then the first man from one end advanced to the
pump, alongside which stood two soldiers with fixed bayonets with which
the man was prodded if he evinced signs of lingering or dwelling unduly
over his work. The duty involved cleaning out the sanitary pan, in which
by the way dependence had to be placed upon the hands alone, no mop or
cloth being allowed. Then the jug had to be refilled from the pump,
which was a crazy old appliance worked by hand. I may say that so far as