Evening star., 1953-09-18

between sleeping perIOdS-1n W
men sometimes played chess w
paper and pieces made of rye
with a cellmate. -Ske
would have passed the prison
censor, but managed to tell me
that Harold Ross, Mildred Bailey
and John Dewey had died and
that Ingrid Bergman Rossellini
had had twins.
Last November I was called
before a police officer to write
my wife. I asked him who had
won the U. S. election. He put
me off. Two months later he
told me it was Gen. Douglas
Macarthur.
Five days before my release I
got some cartoons and verse that
my wife had clipped from the
New Yorker magazine. On the
back of one clipping was part of
the Talk of the Town column.
It seemed to be a report of some
ceremony. 1t told how "Presi-
dent and Mrs. Eisenhower" were
on hand and how the band
played Hail to the Chief" That
was how I found out that the
new President was really another
general.
In retrospect, the weeks and
months seem to have gone by
fast. That is because the pris-
oner remembers little that hap
pened in them-because they
were SO empty. This very empti-
ness makes each day itself seem
to go by so slowly.
I used to wake. to the guards
reveille call, and think, 1T is
Is hours till I can sleep again:
how can I ever pass that time?"
It was as if I had just fallen
to the bottom of deep we'll and
must swim upward and upward,
holding my breath, to save my
life.
Had Seven Cellmates.
In a cell a man lives while he
is asleep; while he is awake, he
only exists. In dreams he lives
the life he cannot live in reality.
I dreamed of buying neWspa-
pers, walking the streets, riding
trains, eating in restaurants,
talking with my wife and
friends.
Time goes most slowly when
the prisoner is alone in his cell,
because then he has only his
own mind to help him fight
time, and his mind is likely to
play him false and turn to his
fate. If he has a cellmate, he has
the strength of two in the fight,
because he has another's re-
sources as well as his own.
I had seven cellmateS, one
after another; two Czechs, two
Moravians, a Slovak, a Slovakian
Jew and an Austrian. They
ranged in age from the 20s to
the 60s-two mechanical engi-
neers, a clerk, a priest, a police
man. an army officer and a poll
tician.
The long day began with
reveille around $50 am. and
ended with taps around $50. In
between, every incident, how
ever routine, was a milestone; it
meant that certain amount of
time was past. and the prisoner
was that much nearer bedtime.
We dressed, folded our blank
cts, washed in cold water with
coarse laundry soap and had
breakfast. We waited for the
midmorning sandwich, given to
the SKINNER prisoners like me.
1t came, and we waited for
lunch. That came, and we wait
ed for the midafternoon sand
wich. Then there was supper.
and then there were three hours
to bedtime.
A meal was always a notable
event. 1t meant time was past.
and we listened eagerly for the
sounds that told us that inmates
from nearby labor camp were
shuft1ing down our hall, setting
food outside each door.
There was always the fascinat-
ing question of what was COM
ing for lunch.
Each mealtime a guard
opened the cell door so we could
take the food in. Each inmate
got a small double boiler full,
with liquid below and solid
above.
Soup Usually Excellent.
Breakfast was always a chunk
of coarse rye bread with a cof-
fee substitute, probably made
from roasted grain. Lunch in
cluded soup, usually excellent.
and mashed potatoes with gravy,
spinach, cabbage. sauerkraut or
carrots on top, or else heavy
Czech dumplings with gravy.
Supper might be potatoes; rice
or boiled pearled barley, this
last a tasteless dish that many
prisoners flushed down the toilet.
A time or two during the week
we got bits of canned meat
parts of the animal that should
have been thrown away-in our
gravy. There was an honest-to-
goodness slice of meat on Sum
days or holidays. Sometimes it
was good roast pork. sometimes
tough, dry boiled beef. Now and
then we got fresh lettuce, often
with a dividend of sand, The
food was not elegant. but it was