A Story of War

I have a few more parties with this Mary Wibort and come to the conclusion, much to my annoyance, that I am making no progress and that she is more or less the same with all. Hell! I kiss her goodnight in a fairly bad temper on Saturday night, and she looks at the sky as she says she thinks it will be a fine day tomorrow. Thank God I can laugh – that damned gremlin again – I really must find something in this joint. All the airfield boys at Valkenburg reckon that they are fixed up.

I get a Mercedes from T.A.F. Main (?) today, but the big end has gone and it is practically useless. Why am I always haunted by that gremlin? I get no exercise here, and feed quite well on American rations with SHAEF PWD.