spat in our faces. We were not going to stoop before them; the
disgrace was not ours. It is they, not we, who are degraded. An officer
who was present when our march-past took place aimed blows with a
riding-whip at everyone within his reach. Until we arrived at the
railway, it was the same at every place where we met soldiers. We
reached Marche after a nine hours' journey. We were conducted to a room
marked as having accommodation for 100 soldiers, but they put 400 of us
in there. The people of the place sent us slices of bread and butter,
but it was the Germans who ate them. The latter gave us crusts of bread
to eat. We were abominably cramped; a few managed to stretch themselves
out, but the air was so poisonous that they could not remain in that
position. At Melreux station we changed guards. They drove us with the
butt-ends of their rifles to a spot where a train of cattle trucks was
standing in the yard, and we had to get in. The previous occupants had
been cattle, and the trucks had been cleaned in a very perfunctory
fashion. There was neither straw nor seats. Off we went. Every time we
stopped at a station the soldiers on guard there insulted us. It was
even worse when once we arrived in Germany. They opened the doors on the
platform side, and if we were on a line between two platforms, they
opened the doors on both sides so as to rejoice German hearts by the
sight of us. They treated us like wild beasts in a menagerie, and the
officers and soldiers set the example while the women and children were
not behindhand with abuse, and made threatening gestures. Our guards
were applauded as if they were doing something heroic. At one station we
saw a woman looking out of her window and shouting 'Hurrah!' The journey
took 35 hours, and during the whole of that time we were only given food
and drink once, and that thanks only to the Red Cross.[20] We arrived at
Wilhelmshoehe (Cassel) at 3 a.m. on the 28th August, and were made to
walk quickly through the streets. Our arrival had been notified, and in
spite of the early hour, a hostile crowd, abusive and threatening, lined
the route. The old and the lame could not keep up the pace at which we
marched. Their companions helped and dragged them along, constantly
beaten with butt-ends. At length, we arrived at the gaol, where they
shut us in the cells in lots of three or four at a time. M. Brichet
(Inspector of Forests) wanted to take his son (aged 14) with him, but
the gaoler