A Loaf of Bread

Audio dramatisation adapted from the memoirs of POW, Phylactis Aristokleous.

"A few days later, it was our turn to prepare for departure. I remember they gave each of us a loaf of black bread and 5-6 hardtacks, telling us that it would last seven whole days and nights. At the end of the distribution, one loaf of bread remained. Those of us present stared at the English Staff Sergeant, wondering what he would do and how he would allocate the remaining bread. The sergeant was a middle-aged, honest man- If it were anyone else in his place, they would have said, “There’s nothing I can do, lads. I can’t give the bread to all of you,” and kept it for themselves—as the saying goes, “He who handles honey will lick his fingers.” 

Holding the bread in his hand, the sergeant turned to those of us waiting there and asked everyone interested to line up. 800 of us stayed. The sergeant called out a number. And who do you think won the bread? The lucky number was mine. I would share the bread with my group of 5–6 companions.  

Perhaps it was the goddess of fortune—or rather, the prayer—that favoured me. "