The Deserter
Almost every week there d be new frightening stories of
captured deserters， who， no matter how cunningly they
had disguised themselves as sailors or tradesmen or
even women， or hidden themselves in tuns or barrels
or whatever， had been caught just the same. Then we
had to watch while they were made to run the gaunt-
let， eight times or more， through a corridor of two
hundred men， until they r collapsed， unable to draw
another breath--only to have to go through it again
the next day. ~，
From The Life Story of the Poor Man
of Tockenburg， Zurich， x789
The cherry trees bloomed for the second time that year， and it
seemed the summer would never end. The barns could hardly
hold the harvest， but the earth seemed far from tired; the winter
wheat grew so fast the farmers began to yearn for an early frost，
to bring this strange miracle to an end.
The sheer abundance of the year 1775 made everyone uneasy.
The sky seemed too blue， the sun too warm， and it was more than
people could accept. They weren t used to being given anything
at all; they knew that everything they had--property， freedom，
life--was theirs only on loan， and could be taken away at any
time， without warning. It was a fact they could hardly forget，
living as they did at the foot of a fortress that was both barracks
and prison in one.
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