A Story of War

I decide to try my luck in Amsterdam and take myself there yesterday evening in the jeep. I arrive about 6.15pm and go to a Canadian officer’s club, where I meet one be-medalled Major called Henry Druce who I have seen in my office at the Hague. He has a spare dame so I join up for drinks and dinner and dancing. He insists on playing hockey with a pen and two forks at dinner and is threatened with assault by some Canadian officer. My dame is called Nysha and has a laugh like a gargling bath club. I end up the evening talking to Druce’s piece, one Wendy Weidemann, who is English with Boche father, and find that she reads my character like a book in two hours. The jeep lights fail so she makes me a bed in a room with Martin, her brother, and Druce, all from the SAS. I get up at 6am to sneak out, but find that I am locked in – and even the back garden has no exit. Martin has to get up and let me go – having slept none too well, am I tired!

Mary tells me to be myself and not to hunt around for women, as it is not in my nature – hell!