European Resistance Archive/European Resistance Archive (ERA)

The harsh life of the camp

All they gave us to eat was one of those tall loaves of dark bread.

It was a large loaf, but you had to split it in five pieces.

That’s all you got until evening. Then at night we were given some slop, but no more bread.

That piece of bread was like gold for me: I used to eat it bit by bit, in order to savor it.

We were terribly hungry and in the winter, when we went to work in Hagen, it was freezing:

we spent the whole day close to a river and the air was unbearable.

At lunch they gave us some slop.

That’s where I’ve learned about margarine,

chard, turnip, and this kind of stuff, all minced, cooked and seasoned with some of this margarine.

Those who came last ended up eating it cold,

and it was often my case, since I did not like to cram up with all the others.

When we were allowed to break ranks,

the Germans used to enjoy watching us cram in line and get into disputes.

Forage caps would typically be falling in the soup, something that would drive people out of their minds.

My Corporal, whose name was Mario Palazzeschi, from Arezzo, was incredibly healthy, a lot healthier than me.

One day, however, he began to cry, sobbing “Carlo, I won’t make it, I won’t make it…”.

Within three months he was dead.

You know what I’ve always said?