The notion of 'last one out gets a beating' never happened again after that, at least, not that I know of.

The Nazis had initially told us that if we 'volunteered' for the scout camp, then we would not have to march around in square circles in the hot African sun all day. I should have known that they were just lying as we now have to do a parade through the town. A terrible indignity.

I stick my finger down my throat that morning and vomit, so I do not have to go. I do not flush the evidence away either. But you could not always avoid the marching parade. At least I did not have to do it in public on a Saturday though. Small victory.

The rules of the marching parade are strict. If someone passes out, you are not allowed to help or touch him, if you do, then a triple beating is the consequence for both of you. On one particularly hot day we were being hypnotized by Major Lategan and his blasphemy of the Bible. Standing 'at ease' for an eternity. The world started swimming around me. Peter John was standing next to me, and just as I felt like falling, he fell towards me like a ton of bricks, his head smacking into the ground. I just stepped out of the way, and he lay there between my legs. I glanced down without moving my head. He was smiling slightly. I was a little bit envious at his luck.