A Story of War

Parties and more parties of sorts and I get to bed every night I am here after midnight, last night being exceptional and 3.30am. I try my hand on the dames and no luck – Mary, I have had (up to here), some Quita dame who was warm and loved tickle and slap and might be a good investment if she spoke any English and was less like a furry mouse. Then I meet Louise Schurmann! Dutch, in the A.T.A., and lived in the States a long time.

My No. 2 George Linton turns up yesterday, so I am busy billeting and getting fed Louise, who is here to look for her relations. I already have a date with Quita, so we make it four and go to the Club. Quita is sick, and we have to take her home, a little soberer, then the three of us adjourn to my room for rum and a bottle of wine. Louise is a bit tight already, George and I OK. We talk our heads off, Louise and I, after George has retired at 1am, and early in the proceedings I am told she would hate to sleep with me. We talk and talk and seem to have the same ideas on life, and end up in her room, a few along from mine, at 3.30 but nothing done. She does improve after being kissed a little, but that’s all, and I retire to bed cursing that gremlin of mine.

People, parties, drinks but no damn luck with dames. Oh Louise – she would do for the lot of them, with her lovely accent and hard bitten expression, though only 24. In love with a married Yank, so that’s that. Today I must take her to lunch at Betty’s and then I hope to Wasenaar to look for her friends – but she will probably have nothing to do with me.