A nightmare of mud, rivals the most primitive cow-byre in N.Z. backblocks. Through this augean abomination we have shoggled all day in drizzling rain and, as a finale, when we were lined up for tea there was a flash and crack of thunder and a shower whose vehemence I have seldom seen equalled sent us, draggle-tailed, laded with well-watered soup and soaked bread dripping in liquescent jam, off into our hovels. A big gun is booming far away and making us wonder how in the devil anybody can be bothering about a war in this weather.
Walk March 