Peter hadn’t expected bells and whistles to celebrate Christmas, but seeing all the nostalgic, dreary faces of his fellow prisoners tore at his heart. As children they’d welcomed the freshly fallen snow, a White Christmas everyone’s dream. Now it was yet another nuisance they had to endure.
White ChristmasSoggy shoes and frozen clothes. Damp underwear and bones that never really warmed up. The men huddled in the barracks heated with their self-made ovens. Whenever those on work parties outside the camp managed to scrounge a few pieces of coal or fallen branches, they dragged them back to use as fuel.
Everyone had saved up food from the parcels the Red Cross had distributed several days ago and now cooked their own festive meals, thanks to one of the Polish mechanics. The fellow had order
