p rough soap
from the canteen, got a wooden tub, and stripping myself to the waist,
washed out the article in question outside the barrack door to the
amusement of my colleagues. While I was busily engaged in this necessary
occupation I was attracted by tittering and chattering. Looking up I
found I was the object of curiosity among a crowd of civilians dressed
in their Sunday best. Together with my fellow-prisoners I hurriedly
retired to the sanctuary of our barracks.

Later we learned that on Sundays the residents of Paderborn and the
countryside around were free to enter the camp to have a look at the
British prisoners. Indeed they were invited. They stalked and wandered
about the camp in much the same manner as they would have strolled
through the Zoological Gardens in Berlin, looking at us as if we were
strange exotic animals, chattering, laughing, and joking among
themselves at our expense. We considered this an unwarrantable
humiliation, and we countered it by the only means within our power. We
resolutely stayed indoors until the gaping crowds had gone. This
diversion of the German public, if such it may be called, speedily fell
into desuetude, not because the novelty wore off, but because the
"Englaender" were never to be seen, so that the six-mile tramp from
Paderborn to Sennelager and back was merely wasted. It was a bitter
disappointment to the curiosity-provoked crowds, but we scored a
distinct success.

The first Sunday I had to wander about shirtless, the only garment of
this character which I possessed hanging upon the line to dry. But the
sight of a crowd of us, on Sunday mornings, stripped bare to our waists,
washing and scrubbing the only shirts to our backs, became quite a
common sight later, and I must confess that we made merry over this
weekly duty for a time.

We had not been in Sennelager many days before we discovered to our cost
that we were all suffering solitary confinement. We were completely
isolated from the outside world. We were not permitted to receive any
letters or parcels. Neither were we allowed to communicate with anyone
outside. Newspapers were also sternly forbidden. These regulations were
enforced with the utmost rigour during my stay at this camp.
Consequently we knew nothing whatever about the outside world, and the
outside world knew nothing about us. Early in September I did succeed in
getting two post-cards away, but I ascertained afterwards that they did
not reach the