a nachttopf[1]—a big tub into which we do it—and, as the door and windows are sealed, there is a wonderful aroma all night.
July 20
We yielded our Italian money and got various instructions. We can write cards home one Sunday and letters the next. A doctor came today and inspected our two sick men. At night I feel like I've been beaten. I'm not used to such hard work.
July 21
Still haymaking. Meals are getting better day by day. Coffee, bread, and butter in the morning, bread soup, beans, bread and butter, and a glass of wine at noon. Bread soup, potato goulash, milk pap, salad, and bread in the evening. We must hand in all money; we can't keep even a penny, maybe so we can't buy a car and flee.
July 22
We got straw hats with "P.G." painted on them. Great sausages for supper today.
July 23
Sunday. We sleep longer, make coffee. I write a card home, and we wash. What a difference—a Sunday two years ago and now. I long for freedom so much. A barber came and shaved us all.
- ↑ Night pot.
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