A Story of War

What a night – We have supper and a drop of scotch in Monica’s flat, and eventually I get talking and out it all comes! Surprise! The most sympathetic and understanding woman I ever met, despite her claim to be 34. I leave at 1.30am after a passionate two hours or so, with ideas of returning on my next leave, if there ever will be one, and with Monica’s wholehearted co-operation. I could write a screed on her, but as I hope she will take the opportunity of reading it, I won’t.

I leave by Dakota the next day from Northolt, after a final telephone call, though doubts are expressed that I shall get on the aircraft due to the loss of my wallet plus identity card, 700 Belgium francs, some guilden and 30/-. Not to speak of clothing coupons.

I find the Wing about to move further up, but no other change, except that Woodbridge had to bail out at 6000’ above cloud, and only just came down inside our lines. Much mail and papers and my bed is broken by these damn drunks. Of course after this, something will happen to stop me going back on leave – it’s bound to. And to a kiss like a…. I can’t describe it.