(Being a continuation of my previous record ‘Flying and Soldiering’ which I closed, leaving many blank pages, on proceeding to Burma. This is the only book I was able to get in Kohat and somehow a different muse seems to live in it. That is to say, a scribbling, hurried muse, who records beauty, drama and tragedy like a mere official communique. Why? I know not. Perhaps he will change.)
Off tomorrow to Laskio. Route Lahore, Delhi, Cawnpore (night stop), Gaya, Calcutta (night stop), Chittagong, Akyab, He-Ho, Laskio. Sixteen aircraft and a DC2, and I believe 1 squadron IAF, are going down the same route.
Yesterday a party in the Club, and I get a bit whistled, waking up with a slight head, the first time ever, despite my famous ‘Roman’s trick’. Teddy and I get an advance of pay at Indian rates. It lays down we shall draw down pay at RAF Indian rates, but I didn’t get that in Iraq and I don’t see how I’m going to get it in Burma. I take my head down to the hangars this morning and try to load up the Lysander, but it seems to have a hell of a lot of extra kit in it.