At first, Marston had said that he could not make the Monday morning run, but Lockhart had insisted, telling him that a bad knee was no excuse. Marston had whined, saying that the doctor had told him to put his leg up for a few days, but Lockhart said that doctors spoke nonsense, and what Marston needed was some air and exercise. Had Marston been more strong-willed, it would have been difficult for Lockhart to persuade him to come along, but thankfully he was more obedient to rank than a twinge in his leg.

The men were assembled outside the cloister, dressed in their regulation PT kit, which consisted of black shorts, running shoes, and a white sleeveless vest that bore the SS runes in black. Lockhart jogged on the spot in front of them, and continued to do so as he spoke.

“We’ll be going on our usual run today,” he began.

The men groaned. Lockhart smiled.

“So that’s through the woods, the normal circuit around the fields—twice—and then back here, through the woods again. Now that the ground is so hard, I see no reason why we shouldn’t be able to do it in under ninety minutes.”

Another groan.

“And one more thing. I don’t want us to separate. It’s no good the quicker ones amongst us—such as you, Stafford, and you, Hull—racing ahead just so they can get back to use the baths first. In an advance, we could go no faster than the slowest, and today that would appear to be Marston. So then, if Marston lags behind, you all have to help him. You may even have to carry him. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!”

Poor Marston, thought Lockhart. Normally he would never have insisted that he come on the run, but he needed all the men together, away from the ears around every wall and corner.

“Right! Let’s go then!”

Lockhart started off and the men reluctantly followed. They were not as fit as they had been a few months ago, but they were still in much better shape than at the beginning of the year.

After only a few hundred yards, Marston stopped running.

“Sir!” he shouted. “I really can’t go any further!”

“All right,” said Lockhart. “We’ll have to carry you. I’ll take you first, and they everybody else will have a go, starting with Allan and working through the alphabet.”

Lockhart lifted Marston onto his back. Although he couldn’t have weighed more than ten stone, he was heavy enough to cause Lockhart a lot of difficulty as they ran up the medium gradient toward the woods. He was determined to make it, to show the men that he was willing to exhaust himself for the sake of one of them. The woods were still a quarter mile away, and Lockhart reckoned that he should be able to manage.