Prisoners of war, although the whole of Europe has long signed various treaties related to prisoners of war, during the war, neither the Germans, the British or the French would strictly abide by the various treaties related to prisoners of war. Prisoner of war camps, for

For many soldiers, a prisoner of war camp is, to a certain extent, a place of death.

The captured soldiers were engaged in hard labor in the prisoner-of-war camps, eating minimal food, and dying seemed to be destined for the prisoners, and nothing would change because of those treaties.

At the end of the hospital in the prisoner of war camp, the two nurses were returning along the original road, walking slowly. The hospital in this prisoner of war camp was full of the smell of death. The Germans may have acted out of humanitarianism or the so-called national honor.

, providing some medicines to the prisoner-of-war camp, but for the vast majority of wounded soldiers, especially those who were seriously injured, the hospital in this prisoner-of-war camp, which never had enough medicine, was always a place waiting to die.

Almost every day, bodies are carried out.

Once again, the food placed on the cardboard tray was placed on the bedside table. The British, French and other prisoners in this ward seemed to have become accustomed to this scene in the past two days. The Chinese

The police officer is still on a hunger strike.

But just because he didn't eat, it didn't mean that his food would be wasted. In fact, after the German nurse left, the cardboard tray was taken away by others. When Tom saw others holding the paper basin, he

"Everyone has a piece!"

"But he..."

Tom pointed to the lieutenant general lying on the hospital bed.

"He's on a hunger strike!"

"What?"

Although he was surprised, hunger still prevailed. At this time, his fellow prisoner of war - who must be a Canadian judging from his military uniform - cut off a small piece of noodles in his left hand and put it on another plate. The scales were balanced.

The Canadian put both slices of bread on a piece of cloth. There were five slices in total, weighing exactly the same. The Canadian took his hand back.

Tom reached out and took the piece closest to him, although there was a sawdust on the dark dough. The Canadian waited for everyone to choose before taking the remaining piece. The others left, and Tom

No, for everyone to share the food of this Chinese official, it is still inevitable to feel a little guilty.

"I ate sawdust. Huh?"

Tom shrugged.

"New here?"

Tom nodded.

This was his first day in the Hertst Prisoner of War Camp. The camp was a desolate place with only small shacks, barren land, barbed wire fences, and sentries. There were a total of a thousand people inside, and each simple work shed

Sixty people lived there. Twelve cold taps provided the washing facilities for the entire camp. Everyone had to work long hours and was always under the supervision of German guards, who were called "guards."

What they were going to do was break the rocks into pieces to provide raw materials for a nearby soda factory.

Accommodation availability is not the problem.

Neither does the faucet. Nor does work.

Food is.

A piece of bread per person every day, that's all. Nothing else, and here, even though it was only the first day here, Tom was already hungry. It was also the first time in his life that he saw someone here.

to those who were on the verge of starvation, and now he himself had joined the ranks.

"You can eat the sawdust too,"

The Canadian said, tuck the cardboard scale under the quilt.

"You can chew it well."

There was something about him that made Tom immediately like and trust him. (Just read the novel.)

"Tom Chris."

Tom held out his hand and introduced himself.

The Canadian looked around with a smile,

"Mitch Norfair."

They exchanged information that prisoners often exchange. Nofer had been held here since December 1915. Although Nofer joined the Canadian Army, he was actually a U.S. citizen. He had enlisted because

Because his mother was Belgian, and he was shocked by the atrocities committed by German soldiers in Belgium in the first days of the war.

"So I thought I'd join the army and let them do the same to me. I think my plan worked better than I hoped."

"Are you American? I thought—"

"Yes. Yes, the Canadian Army is not allowed to accept Americans. Yes, they are not allowed to accept them, but they accept them."

Tom told Norfer his story: the formation, the date of capture, the details of the job.

At this time, Nofer's expression became serious, and then he told him that in this prisoner of war camp, the reason why most prisoners can survive is because in addition to the rations distributed by the prison, they also receive

to the Red Cross package from Geneva. However, if your record is "missing, presumed dead", then the human rights agency will provide you with nothing.

"Thanks to your Royal Navy, the Germans can't even feed themselves, let alone their prisoners. You can't survive without these food parcels."

Tom shrugged and tugged on his waist. His belt was already one button tighter than usual, and his trousers began to look baggy.

"Where is that person?"

He pointed at the lieutenant general and asked Norfer.

"Why is he on hunger strike?"

"God knows, it seems he doesn't want to be a prisoner! That's what the Germans said!"

"Fight bravely and don't take prisoners for your life!"

Whether he is thirsty or hungry, for Zhao Peiren, he has only one thought now, and that is to die, like a soldier!

Don’t be a prisoner for life!

Don’t be a prisoner for life!

For him who was seriously injured and without the help of others, perhaps a hunger strike was his only option, and it was also his last option to maintain his honor as an officer.

What is he talking about?

Just when doubts arose in his heart, Tom saw a German military officer walking in, followed by a German military doctor and a soldier. The soldier was holding a steel dinner plate in his hand.

There was even a glass of milk on the dinner plate. Smelling the strong fragrance of milk, Tom's mouth watered just like everyone else's.

"Hello, Mr. Warrant Officer! I am the commander of this prisoner of war camp, Major Heydrich!"

Major Heydrich looked at the Chinese military officer lying on the bed. Until now, he did not know the name of this officer. In fact, he had never said a word since he was captured. Until now, if the military doctor had not told him

, this officer was on a hunger strike, and he did not even notice that there was also a Chinese Communist officer detained in his prisoner of war camp. After the war broke out, the first Chinese Communist captured by the German army

official.

Based on basic officer etiquette, Zhao Peiren opened his eyes and looked at this strange German officer while lying on the bed.

"Hello, Mr. Major Heydrich!"

When the fluent German came out of Zhao Peiren's mouth, Heydrich was stunned. He looked at this officer in surprise and subconsciously classified this officer as a professional officer with higher education.

"Dr. Hank told me that in the past two days..."

Heydrich looked towards the table. Although there was no food on it, he knew that it must have entered the mouth of someone else, not this officer.

"You've been refusing to eat, haven't you?"

Zhao Peiren did not continue to speak. Seeing that the other party did not answer, Heydrich motioned to the soldier behind him to put the dinner plate next to his bedside table.

"Maybe it's because the food here is so rough!"

This is just a test!

He had used this move to test one British, French, and Canadian officer after another, but now this was just a change of role.

When the dinner plate was put down, Heydrich was a little disappointed to see that the Chinese military officer didn't even look at the dinner basin. He didn't even take a look at it with his peripheral vision. He just lay there quietly, as if he had already woken up.

Waiting...Death!

Is he waiting for death?

"Mr. Warrant Officer, are you trying to express something through your hunger strike?"

The other party's indifference aroused Heydrich's curiosity. He had dozens of Chinese prisoners of war detained in his prisoner-of-war camp, but this was his first contact with a captured Chinese officer.

"Is it a protest?"

Thinking of the discrimination suffered by those Chinese prisoners, Heydrich said somewhat self-righteously.

"protest?"

Opening his eyes, Zhao Peiren looked at Heydrich, his chapped lips raised slightly, and his pale, bloodless face was full of contempt.

The other party's contempt only made Heydrich stunned. What was his expression?

"Mr. Major, I think the only thing worthy of my protest is that the quality of your shells is so poor that it didn't kill me!"

What answer is this?

Could it be that he didn't want to be a prisoner, but wanted to die on the battlefield?

Ten minutes later, Heydrich received an answer from other Chinese prisoners that surprised him.
To be continued...