Journal 2

If Yates is here, I have not seen him. The guards don’t allow us to speak. They watch over us like vultures. Any deviation in the rules and punishment is swift and painful. I know because I quit digging up rocks long enough to catch a moment’s breath and had a rod come down across my shoulders.

Rule number three don’t stop working until a guard tells you to quit. I gave the guard a look and he smacked me again. I forgot about the keep your head down rule. I recognize a couple of soldiers from Ft Shasta also here as slaves, but I don’t know their names. I never had personal contact with them at Bear Country. I think they are just as confused and disoriented as I am. I wish Yates were here. He would know what to do to get us out of this mess. I have been praying that Yates escaped the ambush.

The guards forced me to work the entire day with no food at all, and only two ladles of water. Every muscle in my body hurts. After digging up the rocks, we transport them to be washed. I have bruises all over my back. I have dirt so far under my fingernails that several of my fingers are sore. I stink and I have a headache. Someone pinch me so that I can wake up from this nightmare.