We buried the four men in shallow graves about two hundred feet behind the garden. We had no names, so we wrote "unknown" on the four-foot-wide slabs of wood we stuck in each grave. We also wrapped whatever belongings each man had on him in waterproof oilskin cloth and put them at the foot of each wooden slab in case someone might be able to identify the men from what was inside.

Burying these men was the most unpleasant task I ever had up to then. Even though we didn't know any of them, we felt obliged to say something over their graves. Somebody, I can't recall now, read a passage from Psalms. That wasn't good enough for me, however. I promised the men lying in those shallow graves that we would find and dispense justice to those responsible for their slaughter.

I...

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