A Story of War

Jerry returned from leave having spent it down in Madras, after Pat Turner. No celebration on the 9th (JDW: his 22nd birthday). I play in the young soldiers hockey team against the RA and then Lock and I have a few beers and he comes over for dinner. Had Ken Mules 1/18 up for bridge last Saturday and Springheel and I bid a small slam, which I play and win. A lot of drinks with one Dowson (Signals), of Western Electric.

Nothing of note ever happens here. Razmak is alive with dead bodies (JDW: mmm, good turn of phrase…) and lead, and Campbell the Resident was shot up and wounded in the arm in his car near Asad Khel. The Worcesters at Razani, and the Suffolks at Razmak, have casulaties every day.

A letter from Mowbray Burnett who is in the Gordons in Singapore. I am due for the Training Battalion on the next convoy, in a day or so I expect. I have no guiding aim in life just now. It used to be Urdu, 2/13, the War, my flying license, the RAF – but now I am sunk as far as the RAF goes and I couldn’t be much further from the War in Abbottabad. For 20 years I have hoped for a war (JDW: really? Since you were 2?!), and now it comes and I cannot take part in it!!