When he’d been at the camp for what must have been a month, this sense that he’d be called in any day now by the SS began to become an obsession. He was convinced that anyone walking behind him was following him on behalf of the SS; he even started to wonder whether August had been planted there to spy on him. He knew that once he was questioned, he’d be finished. He wouldn’t be able to pass himself off as a Frenchman for more than a minute in a serious interrogation. A sense of hopelessness began to envelop him, and he soon lost track of time as he sank into a pit of despair, beyond caring what day of the week it was, or even what month.

One afternoon, one of the Belgians from his hut, a man in his fifties called Frans, found him slumped in a corridor in the brick factory, doing nothing other than staring at the wall. ‘Are you ill, my friend?’

Prince shook his head, not taking his eyes off the wall in front of him.

‘Then why are you sitting like that? If the guards see you, you’re in big trouble, you know that.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You don’t care about being in trouble?’

He turned away, hoping the Belgian would get the message that he wanted to be left alone. At that moment, footsteps approached them and he heard Frans talking in Flemish to one of the Dutch prisoners. Together they hauled Prince up and helped him back into the area he was working in.

Back in the hut that evening, he didn’t eat anything and just lay on his bunk, face down, staring at the ground, watching a mouse scurry beneath him. Something was dripping on his neck from the bunk above, but he lay still, not bothering to move even one inch.

August came over and sat next to him. ‘Frans told me what happened in the factory. You’ve given up, haven’t you?’

Prince didn’t reply. He found it hard to disagree with the German. August grabbed him roughly by his shoulder and made him turn to face him.

‘I’ve been in these camps since before the bloody war started, over five years now. You have to give me some credit for the fact I’ve got some experience. There are three things I know – are you listening to me?’

Prince couldn’t ignore the fire in August’s eyes and the passion with which he spoke.