At two o'clock we were lined up, the British at the extreme rear as usual, and marched off. Upon reaching the kitchen we were alarmed to learn that there were insufficient basins. Several would have to use the one utensil successively, and, needless to say, without being washed after each use. Apart from this repulsive method of feeding us as if we were dogs, the time occupied in getting one's ration proved maddening. After one had swallowed the thin cabbage soup hastily, one had to advance and join the group comprising those who had been served. The result was that by the time the last of the British prisoners had been supplied some three hours had passed. Yet this was the first meal which some of the men had received for three days! I may say that one felt far from satisfied after swallowing the noisome greasy wash. In the evening, while working upon our hut to impart the finishing touches speedily, because rain was falling, I stumbled across three of the disgraced and disfigured fishermen. They were alone and forlorn. They had no hut and did not know what would happen if another wet night swept over them. One happened to be the skipper of one of the trawlers which had been sunk and he vehemently denied the charge that they had been guilty of laying or sweeping mines. They were attending to their trawls when they were surprised and captured. The skipper was an interesting, typical sea-dog from the waters of the North Sea, and a thorough God-fearing man. He related a story which made our blood boil. He said his two companions and himself were summoned by the guards at mid-day, and instead of receiving the dinner ration had been taken to a covered hand-cart. The guard told them to push it, and at the same time handed them shovels and picks. Under escort they dragged this mysterious load, which was carefully covered with a tarpaulin, for about three miles to a very lonely spot. At last they came to a deep hole. They were compelled to back the cart to the brink of the pit, and were then curtly bidden to tip it sharply. To the utter amazement of the skipper and his two colleagues the action of tipping the cart shot into the hole, with considerable force, the corpse of a Belgian. He was dumped into the hole in this rough and ready manner, head first, and to the disgust of the Britishers the body was clothed merely in a shirt! They were then commanded to refill the hole. Thus, without the slightest burial ceremony, with a brutality which would not have been shown to a dog, and without the slightest expression of regret, save one of silence from the three Britishers, the unknown Belgian was consigned to an unknown grave. Who the Belgian was, or how he came by his death, no one ever knew, but it is surmised that he died from exposure upon the field during the night of the 11th.