Page:Diary of a Prisoner in World War I by Josef Šrámek.pdf/21

 the courtyard at half past five in the morning. There we stand in the rain and cold for an hour. Most of us are barefoot. Dogič walks by with his stick. Our feldwebels and gendarmes divide us into teams. At last all are divided. But not much work gets done. Those who work on the roads end up searching for lice; those who pass through the town tend to disappear—some go drinking at a cafe, some go to make money, some go begging. When the guard arrives at the station with 80 people out of 300, he swears: "I fuck their Schwabish mother in the ass." And that's it. They could never count us all, even if we were to be here for the next five years.

The last day of the year. The devil may take this year—it has dealt us badly. Recalling how nicely we welcomed it, I think it was in Krásné Březno at the Czech House. I am mad!



New year, what news do you bring? The beginning of the year was pretty bad—I carried sacks at the station all day. I could not slip away.

I am sick. I have fever, cannot eat anything. I just want to drink but this water is deadly. I am lying on the ground like a dog. Nobody cares, nobody notices. I am not alone—more