Monday 16th November 1942

A dull day with a zift wind. Cold, too. Thank God for our tent!

Apple's latest theory is that we shall shortly return to the Delta area for training, also that all men must learn to swim. “Discouraging!” I said at once, whilst the zift wind shook the tent disconsolately. “Invasion by water sir? No good!” “That's about it, Dawson,” said Apple wearily (not the officer for a moment, but just a father and husband who wanted to get home) “Yes. They're probably fattening us up for something.”