The Will to Live

Beside "bashing" we spent our time keeping alive. We would shave on certain days of the week. My days were Saturday and Tuesday. I had several blades but used one until it broke and then used another for the greater part of the five months. I shaved in cold water and used soap the "goons" had given us. I sharpened the blade on my boot and then on my hand to keep it in shape. It worked quite well. Once in a while I made up my bed. That is, I shook the blankets and fluffed up the straw in the gunnysack tick. It always slept better for at least one night. I had a G. I. blanket that I had carried with me. One of my comrades couldn't carry it anymore and was going to throw it away so I took it and carried it. I tied the sides and one end together with wire and made a sack out of it. The Krauts issued us two blankets so I took one and tied it the opposite way over the G.I. blanket and the third I folded over the sack and under the straw mattress. I had to start at the head and work down into it, but it was the only way to keep warm.

In some of the rooms discussions on various subjects were held in order to give us something to do. Discussions such a"Your Future Home" by some former builder, "Your Health" by a doctor, "Small Farming" by a farmer, and "Cattle Raising" were a few of the topics. I heard several of these lectures but one of the most interesting was on "Commercial Deep Sea Fishing."

A very common way of spending the evening was singing. The men would huddle around the stove or crawl in their sacks. There were request songs which included "The Lord's Prayer," "Always," and "My Blue Heaven." Among those on which everyone harmonized were "Home on the Range," "Down by the Old Mill Stream," "When
Irish Eyes Are Smiling," and "I've Got Six Pence." For the most part the songs sung were old ballads, love songs, folk songs or religious numbers. Very seldom did the men sing suggestive songs and I greatly appreciated that.

With the supply of books that came from the Australians, we received an old phonograph. It had been given by the Y.M.C.A. It was broken and we had to turn the records by hand. We had several records but the one played continually was "Can't You Hear Me Calling, Caroline." "Deep in the Heart of Texas" was played often for Lt. Gale Pittman of San Antonio, Texas, and for me. However, the machine lasted only two days.

"Close that door" were the first words which greeted every man that stuck his head into our room. No man was ever too busy to voice his plea or to bellow his command. It was extremely cold outside and we were alert to conserve what little heat we had. There was "no respect of persons" and I cannot remember a man who was quick enough to escape the volley of voices.