Wednesday 12th January 1944

Becoming more and more worried, and having heard rumours that men staying in the Army were usually transferred to Sutton (yet another mental hospital) for about four weeks of PT etc., I sought an interview with one of the doctors who sat on that Board, the other day.

I went in anxiously, looking more neurotic than ever before, I dare say, with my teeth chattering and my cheek twitching. The doctor reassured me about the delay. It was out of his hands now, he said, and he was waiting for word from the Army regarding the depot to which I was to proceed. Yes, it might be as soon as next week-end I should go. “But I must ask you this,” I spluttered, “Are you sure you won't send me to Sutton? I've been in these places too long, I can't stand any more.” “Sutton? Oh, another hospital... I see.” He hesitated.

“That's too high a price to pay for staying in the Army... too high. Will you promise you won't send me to another hospital?” After a moment he said, “Yes. I'll see to that. Yes.” Then he looked up and said, “Is that all you wanted to see me about?” “That's all sir.” My teeth were still chattering and no doubt I looked as worried as before – because it is hard after all this, to believe until you know.
So he said again, “You're quite sure there's nothing else?” “Yes sir.”