Tuesday 12th September 1939

Now that we’re in the Army, part of the War, very lazily preparing for our turn, I seldom mention the news. Today’s headlines however, do strike a new note –

“British Troops in France” – and this evening –
“RAF Machine Gun Nazi Troops on Western Front”
“Goering joins Hitler on the Polish Front”
“RAF Clearing Way for French Advance”

Many of the Signallers are a loutish lot – worse than merely loutish they strike one as silly and make one wonder how on earth they’ll stand the strain of war, when their time comes. Andrews (he’s one of the quiet, older men – 28) and I are discussing this today during a “stand-easy”; whilst the silly sods were giggling and rolling about on the grass in the park, where we do our flag drill. Andrews, Rodden, Orrin and Gaylor who were in the same tent at Camp – long, long ago! – always stick close to each other and are of a much more steady type.

No heat wave now! No sweat, no exhaustion at the days’ end. But hell! How cold it is! A bitter northerly wind whistled across the park; most of us wore greatcoats.

After tea. Pond and I came up to the attic at no.9. Jennings was out. I don’t see much of him since he was posted to RHQ. Sid and I sat smoking and writing (skylight closed, and the wind shaking it) until 8 o’clock, when we went to the Milk Bar for supper. Mary had her supper with us, sitting at a table there.

Now it’s 9:30p.m. I hope to clean a few buttons and be in bed by 10 o’clock.