23 October 4 9:30 a.m. Bernie ate a hard-boiled egg and slurped scalding coffee at the table, eyeing the two seated guards by the single window, his only view outside. Two more soldiers stood outside the small barracks, the wood on the walls freshly-cut, floors clean. Bea and Alice awoke on stiff cots with mothball-scented army blankets. Oh- h-h-h, the head, moaned Bea. Alice followed. Too much bubb during the midday will do that. Damn, I dreamt I was photographing flamingo chicks on a salt flat in Africa for a fashion rag. Now Ive been whisked back here. For what its worth, I officially retire from the war. She ran to the attached bathroom, the only privacy available. Outside at attention, all personnel sang Jupiter by Gustav Holst, a favorite, the loudspeakers blaring. Bea sat and yawned. Are they torturing us? Bloody Jerry. Pour me a cuppa? Now we know the name of Himmlers genius contractor, Herr Kammler. Bernie poured, gently adding canned milk drop by drop. Wonder if we can post a letter. She nibbled hard brown toast with jam. My, my, what a bewigged gentleman youve become. Thanks. We need to find Gwafa. Bargain something for our release, said Bernie softly. She sipped. Not with these four buffaloes on our chests. Will they do an exchange with us? He toasted the soldiers with his cup. Perhaps once in Germany, but Gwafa will die here in the mines. Think they understand English? Maybe. The Waffen lads are trained well. Lets switch to French. Comment allez-vous aujourdhui, Herr Obersharfuhrert Bon, madame,parfait he replied with a smile, taking the time to clean his automatic rifle with a rod and solvent.