Work, tennis, football and booze. Maitland, France, Gilbert and Morris returned from leave, having doubled half the atlantic in a convoy and been attacked by submarines in the Mediterranean. A partridge drive arranged for today, but the shikhari never turned up last night so Ray cancelled it. Did a Battalion scheme yesterday. I took two Indian officers out the day before and showed them the ground and gave them orders. Mahan Shand of course altered it a good bit, and as I am not fluent in the language he gets away with it. I can’t sell these damn carpets. The bloody furniture wallah won’t come and won’t cooperate. (sent them to Hugh as a wedding present!)
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A Story of War 
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