Friday 10th January 1941

The exchange is dug-in and roofed now – with some timber scrounged by Sid. He also obtained a large slab of timber as a roof for our bed hole (which is only 5 inches deep). All around the sides, otherwise open, we've put scrub bushes, as camouflage and to keep the wind out. Looks quite pretty when lying drowsily inside; with the moonshine filtering through the bushes one might be lying inside a hedge. Also, as there's a roof, we can smoke undisturbed even when the bombers are overhead.

British communiqué: “Operations for the reduction of Tobruk are proceeding satisfactorily”

Some mail came in today – the first for a month. It rather depressed me, somehow. There were newspapers full of air raid stories. Almost every article, picture and news item revolved around an air-raid. Secondly, my letters (there were none from home) seemed to reveal a subtle difference in the writers. And, so far away out here, one hopes so desperately, against all hope, that nothing will be changed in the familiar England, the everyday England one knew!

Yes, when I return, my friends will have different jobs, they'll live in different houses, have different outlooks on life. There was a picture of a little boy, frightened, in a street, holding his hands over his ears, whilst a women leaned over him, trying to shield his body with hers...

Why should such a curse fall upon us, twice already in half a century?