Friday 31st October 1941

Yesterday afternoon Steve and I went to see Dick Gilbert and Jack Pitt, who had been in hospital here for some weeks, at the 64th General. Both were doing well when we last heard of them. We asked the clerk to look in the ward-book and find out where they were. He ran his finger down the column. “Pitt... Pitt... Yes, he's still here. In A1 West”
“Thanks; and Gilbert?”
“G... Gilbert... Gilbert...” The finger stopped. “Oh, he's dead. Buried last Sunday”
“What?” “Dead?”
“Yeah. Bombardier Gilbert, is it? 104th RHA”

Later on, we saw Jack Pitt. Both arms are in slings still, but he can move his fingers.
“I've finished with the Army, Steve mate,” he said gleefully, “My arms will never be straight again...” There was no need to console him. He was pleased about it.
What a bloody rotten war.