'Will the wound be all right, doctor?' asked Wladek.

'You speak Russian?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Although you will always limp, young man, your leg will be good again.

But good for what? A life here dragging wood.'

'No, doctor, I intend to escape and get back to Poland,' said Wladek.

The doctor looked sharply at him. 'Keep your voice down, stupid boy. You must realise by now that escape is impossible. I have been in captivity fifteen years, and not a day has passed that I have not thought of escape. There is no way; no one has ever escaped and lived, and even to talk of it means ten days in the punishment cell, and there they feed you every third day and light the stove only to melt the ice off the walls.

If you come out of that place alive, you can consider yourself lucky.'

'I will escape, I will, I will,' said Wladek, staring at the old man.

The doctor looked into Wladek's eyes and smiled. 'My friend, never mention escape again or they may kill you. Go back to work, keep your leg exercised and report to me first thing every morning.'

Wladek returned to the forest and to the chopping of wood, but found that he could not drag the logs - more than a few feet, and that the pain was so intense he believed his leg might fall off. When he returned the next morning, the doctor examined the leg more carefully.

'Worse, if anything,' he said. 'How old are you, boy?'

'I think I am thirteen,' said Wladek. 'What year is it?'

'Nineteen hundred and nineteen,' replied the doctor.

'Yes, thirteen. How old are you?'asked Wladek.

The old man looked down into the young boy's blue eyes, surprised by the question.

'Mirty - eight,'he said quietly.

'God help me,'said Wladek.

Tou will look like this when you have been a prisoner for fifteen years, my boy,' said the doctor matter of factly.

'Whyareyou here at all?'said Wladek. 'Why haven't they let you go af ter all this time ?'

'I was taken prisoner in Moscow in 1904, soon after I had qualified as a doctor and I was working in the French Embassy. Tley said I was a spy and put me in a Moscow jail. I thought that was bad until after the Revolution when they sent me to this hell - hole. Even the French have now forgotten that I exist. Few have been known to complete their sentence at camp Two - O - One so I must die here, like everyone else, and it can't be too soon.'

'No, you must not give up hope, doctor.'

'Hope? I gave up hope for myself a long time ago, perhaps I shall not give it up for you, but always remember never to mention that hope to anyone; there are prisoners here who trade in loose tongues, when their reward can be nothing more than an extra piece of bread or perhaps a blanket. Now Wladek, I am going to put you on kitchen duty for a month and you must continue to report to me every morning. It is the only chance that you have of not losing that leg, and I do not relish being the man who has to cut it off. We don't exactly have the latest surgical instruments here,' he added, staring at a large carving knife.

Wladek shuddered.

Doctor Dubien wrote out Wladek's name on a slip of paper. Next morning, Wladek reported to the kitchens, where he cleaned the plates in freezing water and helped to prepare food that required no refrigeration. After carrying logs all day, he found it a welcome change: extra fish soup, thick black bread with shredded nettles, and the chance to stay inside and keep warm. On one occasion he even shared half an egg with the cook, although neither of them could be sure what fowl had laid it. Wladek's leg mended slowly, leaving him with a pronounced limp. There was little Doctor Dubien could do in the absence of any real medical supplies except keep an eye on his progress. As the days went by, the doctor began to bef ri end Wladek and even to believe in his youthful hope for the future.

They would converse in a different language each morning, but the old man most enjoyed speaking in French, his native tongue.

'In seven days time, Wladek, you will have to return to forest duty; the guards will inspect your leg and I will not be able to keep you in the kitchens any longer. So listen carefully, for I have decided upon a plan for your escape.'

'Together, doctor,' said Wladek. 'Together.'

'No, only you. I am too old for such a long journey, and although I have dreamed about escape for over fifteen years, I would only hold you up.

It will be enough for me to know someone else has achieved it, and you are the first person I've ever met who has convinced me that he might succeed!

Wladek sat on the floor in silence listening to the doctoes plan.