size. The name and address counted as a line. Mine was
Kriegsgefingenenlaager, Kompagnie No. 6, Barackue No. A. The writing
had to be big and easily read and, in the letters, on four sides of
the paper. No complaint or discussion of the war was permitted. Fully
one-half of those written were returned for infringements, or fancied
ones, of these rules. Sometimes when the censor was irritated they
were merely chucked into the fire. And as they had also to pass the
English censor it is no wonder that many families wondered why their
men did not write.

We were there for three months before our parcels began to arrive. We
considered ourselves lucky if we received six out of ten sent, and
with half the contents of the six intact. In the larger camps the
chances of receipt were better. The small camps were merely units
attached to and governed by the larger ones, which handled the mail
before giving it to the authorities at the smaller ones.

Thus, a man who was "attached" to Giessen camp, although perhaps one
hundred miles away from it, had to submit to the additional delay and
chance of loss and theft included in the censoring of the parcel at
Giessen as well as at the actual place of his confinement.

This doubled the chances of fault-finding and of theft. Knowing this
to be true, I most earnestly recommend the sending of parcels. True, a
large proportion of them are not received, but those that are
represent the one salvation of the prisoner-of-war in German hands. So
terribly true is this that when we began to receive parcels at
irregular intervals, we used regularly to acknowledge to our friends
the receipt of parcels which we had never received. This was the low
cunning developed by our treatment. If advised that a parcel of tea,
sugar or other luxuries had been sent and it did not appear after
weeks of patient waiting, we knew that we should never see that
parcel. Nevertheless, we usually wrote and thanked the donor and
acknowledged the receipt, fearful otherwise that he or she should say:
"What's the use?" and send no more. And we were not allowed to tell
the truth--that it had been stolen.

The first three months of our stay at Giessen were probably the worst
of all, including as they did the transition period to this life. It
seemed then a hell on earth. The slow starvation was the worst. Once,
in desperation, I gave a Frenchman my good boots for his old ones and
two and a half marks, and then gave sixty pfenni