December 24
Christmas Eve. How many memories run through my head! What a difference between now and a year ago! What are my parents doing at this moment? It is getting dark, and I am lying on my elevated bed (I sleep in a trough). I got in here to avoid the dirt and the lice, which cannot get in here so easily. I am recalling my homeland. My Christmas Eve dinner is a few apples and one dinar's worth of chocolate. And there are many here who don't have even that. All is quiet—perhaps everyone is thinking. If there were more light, I could see a tear in many an eye! We are so sad at heart. I am listening—there, in the corner, the 102nd Regiment starts to sing "Where Is My Home."[1] Everyone is trembling. Other voices join in, and our sty resounds with a sublime song, illustrating our feelings! Deep silence—and then a carol. And then silence again. Everybody is recalling. There is supper, and then everybody gets ready for the midnight mass. Many of those who have not prayed in a long time are now praying to the one who gave the world peace, asking for peace soon and that they may return happily! Will this ever be?
December 27
Christmas is over. On Christmas Day I worked all day and fasted. My whole lunch was a bit of cheese and bread. We work every day, doing various things. We go to the station, to building sites, to clean, dig, press hay, or build roads. Our jailkeepers drive us out to
- ↑ Later to become the Czech national anthem.
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