A Story of War

I escape into the air again – just sort of fly around – do a loop that fails and then a nice glide approach and landing. If I could only shut business out of my mind out of working hours, I should be OK. But I keep myself awake of nights thinking of all the things I must do. There’s a detachment to Kolar for an exercise shortly. Chapman and I go to the club Saturday evening and have a few Parry’s Gins. One S/L Vigar of Group comes down and hears all my moans. I live in the house of plaited bamboos, with a stone floor and two feet thick walls too. I hope it won’t rain much. No exercise for damn near six months, and I must do something about it.

I have an Indian adjutant – one Aslam Khan – a noted Lahore lawyer, who talks about “postal communications” for letters, and such like verbiage. I wish I knew a proper “popsie” around here – I must go up to the hills – if I dare.