and a half thousand left of us in a year. We were thinking profoundly about the horrible facts—while Italian sun and sea were miraculous cures for us, back home the Austrian persecution raged, our countrymen filled notorious prisons, even gallows were built into the stringent environment…
January 28
We moved to another hospital. I am in the kitchen again, along with thirteen other people. They are Hungarians, Romanians, and Dalmatians. The oberkoch[1] is a Hungarian who can speak some 7 languages.
Theft is flourishing here. The officers have real feasts at nights while the rank and file starves. I loathe to act thus. They eat all sugar and bacon while the men eat macaroni without any grease and drink bitter coffee.
January 30
Our pay is 20 centesimo daily. I am to get L4.20, and I chose to get paid in kind—a bit of sausage, 2 oranges, and some wine. I still have a lot to do.
January 31
I got a little sick today. The weather got ugly. The Italians never let anyone into the healthy camp without a test. They've got glass flasks;
- ↑ Chef.
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