Monday 1st April

Reveille 5:30 today – don’t know if this is to be a regular thing from now on. Probably it is. Morning, bloody exhausting fatigues. Afternoon, bathing parade. A ripping bathe – one could hardly call it a swim – in the breakers. Bloody big waves tossed at you and left you spluttering and gasping – “Look out! Here come another!”

Rather a tragedy. In this rough and tumble I lost the rosary which I’ve had ever since the war began (I always wear it round my neck). I felt a sacred talisman had gone when I came out of the surf and found it was missing.

Ling had to move out this evening, at about five minutes notice, to take charge of another tent further up (containing the usual throw-outs of uncouth-accented militiamen).

Late tonight, rather mysteriously, the Yeomanry horses arrived – yes, we are having a few for reconnaissance work etc. John Goodwin was with them. He’d stayed behind in England as he was ill when we left. He’s moved into Lings place here.