A Story of War

I get myself put up for this control job – air traffic officer at Copenhagen and another at the Hague. SPSO Group tells me to go and see T of Rear (JDW: anyone know what this was?) about it in Brussels. I fly down on Wednesday.

Meanwhile the rest of the squadron moves to Celle, north of Hanover, where I now am, and all set for the Occupation. I get a bit lost on the way and have to get a homing to Brussels. The G/C I must see is away until the next day so I get my kit off the aircraft and get put up in a shockingly awful transport command hostel. That night I wander around the bars but do not meet any women I fancy, and retire to bed rather bored at 10pm. The next day I go shopping – perfume and ‘silk’ stockings for the boys, and eat a bag of cherries. The G/C – one Salmon – appears a bit vague on the subject and I discover they have given the Copenhagen job away to a chap in 2 Group and that the W/C has promised the Hague job to a friend of his in his office. As the W/C is away and won’t come back until Saturday, I return to Celle and hope to go down and see them both tomorrow. Meanwhile I am due for leave on the 31st, and as all aircrew leave is to stop on the 4th, unless I get away quickly I will have had it.

Brussels is full of uniforms and the shop windows are crowded, though at a price. I feel a bit tired due to an overdose of cognac and beer (I wrote notes to an Ensa girl at dinner in the Palace hotel on the strength of it) and have a lodging here with David Greville-Heygate. Outside, German girls are doing the washing, very nice ones too, and I for one will find this non-fraternisation order a very hard one.