Incredible stuff: Every now and then, they do Verkaterny or Sur Eptenut, as they call it. They line us up for hours, then count us and line us up again. They keep counting us and never seem to be done.
July 10
We wake up at half past six and get a cup of canned coffee (not worth saying much about). At 9 we get approximately 600 grams of bread; at 11 we get a great soup made of potatoes with peas or lentils, and a piece of meat as big as a finger. We like it; it's well-spiced and tasty, and there's a lot of vegetables. They serve it in dishes for ten men.
600 to 800 people leave every day. Our turn is tomorrow. [Those who leave are given provisions] for 2 days—bread, a piece of bacon, and one can of fish is a one-day portion. We are divided by trades but then we are sent out mixed again.
July 11
French soldiers are a strange mixture—65-year-olds with 18-year-old recruits. The uniforms vary—black, blue, brown, white, and green. It pleases the eye to look at all the colors within one unit.
Officers are mostly pensioners or disabled. But they're intelligent and much more polite than the Italians. I must admit they treat us well; it's a pity we don't understand them—everything would be much easier. As it is everywhere, the Serbs are the worst crew here.
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