"Like most boxcars, this one had a small window on the right hand side of the car in the corner near the roofline. Our little window had bars over it but no glass. When the prison train stopped at stations along the way, we often heard children’s voices outside. Then, whoever was nearest the window would boost another man up so he could look out. The man at the window would make faces at the children, and they would respond with a volley of snowballs. Inevitably, some of the snowballs broke against the window bars and showered clods of ice into the boxcar. This is exactly what we wanted. We carried on with silly faces at the window the entire time those children were out there and the train was stopped. By the time the train rolled away from the towns, all of us had a bit of ice from a snowball to suck on."

"The seasoned British prisoners in the barracks had advised us not to answer the Germans' questions with any information beyond our name, rank, and serial number. Questions about jobs and occupations were particularly dangerous, the British prisoners warned. Based on what we might answer about former jobs, the Germans could assign us to specific work detail. Prisoners before us had been sent to salt mines, factories, and farms. Since I had worked alongside my father, a section foreman on the railroads, I dreaded the possibility that the officials would learn of my previous occupation. I could be sent to labor on the German railroads, favorite targets of the Allied bombers. 'We are all students,' we told the officials and refused to give any further information. The prison officer merely shook his head in resignation.