Monday, August 18, 2008

Friday 29th March 1940

Drill order this morning. It was hot – 94F in the sun and we were in the sun at the exchange! But showers were installed at the Camp this afternoon; ah! It was most delicious to stand under the shower not shivering, and wash all the sweat away!

Ling, Chenery and I went down to the beach, a quarter mile away. A deep canyon, of wild-west-film type, winds down from the top of the sandstone cliffs. We paddled childishly and counted the waves, arguing as to whether every seventh or every ninth wave was greater than the others. It is lovely on the beach and the Army and the war is terribly far distant. Even England seems nearer, for we imagined this was an ordinary summer camp and that we were on the north Devon coast.

After the swift dusk had fallen, and we could not see our khaki uniforms and we’d dried our feet in the fine sand above high-water mark we talked of peaceful, retrospective things – our families and farewells and poetry.


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