Saturday 31st July 1937

When I had washed this morning, I strolled through the gate nearby and glanced along the road. How bewitchingly it curved away towards the hills! A lovely country – and I have not seen it. Those great hills to the east – The Quantocks – seem mysterious and bare. Have never seen hills which so nearly resembled Blue Mountain – the mythical hill about which I used to dream, as a child. And, like Blue Mountain, I’ve never reached the summit of The Quantocks!

Today our Battery instruments were packed and loaded on a railway van. Nothing to be done at the gun position, so Lee and I were ordered to report back to the main camp, with our kits. I went into my old tent. Demmer, Trigg, Brailey and Howell were all gone. The Lance-Bomardier, MacRae lay there alone, sleeping. He awoke. “Can I kip here again Mac?” “Aye, ye micht as weel”, he said slowly.