he priests could not be broken, no matter to what physical and
mental suffering they were subjected. Even Major Bach discovered to his
chagrin that his devilish ingenuity had encountered an insuperable
obstacle. To wreak his revenge he now compelled the Fathers to carry out
all the dirtiest and most revolting work in the camp--duties so
repulsive as to be beyond description. But the good men never murmured.
They did exactly as they were bidden, and even the guards at last
appeared to realise the fact that their fertility in torment was of no
avail in attempting to infuriate their meek charges.

Major Bach, however, was by no means cast down at his failures. One
morning he ordered the twenty-two priests to be paraded. They were then
loaded up with a variety of cumbersome and heavy implements--spades,
picks, shovels, and such like. Each load would have taxed the strength
of a young man in the pink of condition and strength to carry, and yet
here were old men, ranging between sixty and seventy years, compelled to
shoulder such burdens. But they did it.

An order was rapped out, the guard wheeled, and the tiny party moved
off. We discovered afterwards that they were marched three miles along
the sandy road in the blazing sun to a point where they were roughly
bidden to dig a huge pit.

Throughout the morning, and without a moment's respite, they were forced
to ply their tools, their task-masters standing over them and smartly
prodding and threatening them with their rifles if they showed signs of
falling from fatigue, or if they failed to maintain the expected rate of
progress. To such old men, who probably had never lifted the smallest
and lightest tool for many years, if ever, it was a back-breaking task.
However, they clung dutifully to their work until the hour of twelve
rang out.

Now they were re-marshalled, their tools were re-shouldered, and they
were marched back to camp for the mid-day meal. By the time they reached
the barracks all the other prisoners had consumed the whole of the
available soup. There was nothing for the priests. It was explained that
they should have hurried so as to have arrived at an earlier moment.
Then they would have received their due proportion. Meals could not be
kept waiting for dawdlers, was the brutal explanation of the
authorities. The priests must be made to realise the circumstance that
they were not staying at an hotel. This, by the way, was a favourite
joke among our wardens