The Staters grow more insolent and shameless with every passing week. It’s infecting even those who would never have been suchlike in the old days. You can see how it catches them, once the first wrong turning is made.
Friday night is the soldiers’ pay night and we are usually treated to a musical watch. We too often sing in the dark to each other and sometimes we hear our men across the way doing the same. If one of us asks ourselves the question, why am I here, the answer comes then: because we are.
What did you think of the bishops and their announcement against us? You know the old good wish one Irish woman used to give another, “May you be the mother of a bishop”? Among us prisoners, it is now flung as an insult. Naturally, not a single one of us gave in to a decree that pronounced
