Wednesday 21st July 1943

A week or so ago this ward, as I then said, was quite full and contained some pretty bad cases. During the last few days there has been a steady drain of people going away, so that only 11 patients now remain. The other wards are also half empty. It is very quiet and restful in Ward 36 now; rows of empty beds, with here and there an occasional dozing figure - no one speaking much or arguing.

William is greatly concerned about this business of going home. Are we going back, like the other four, or are we not? And when do we go? England seems fantastic to me. I don't mind whether we go tomorrow, in two months or in two years. I must have accidentally eaten of the lotus – or else much more probably, I am a typical son of that generation -(“We are the generation of the broken-hearted and nothing ever can hurt us very much again, nor make us laugh”)