Storm raged all night, several bivvies flooded out; the Y.M.C.A. marquee blown down and the roads have all the metal washed bare. The state of things down at stables was astonishing, as the roofs are not yet on. In some places I went down nearly to the top of my jack-boots – how the chaps in puttees fared don’t ask. Got into a lovely scot with my donks, after I took their covers off and hung them up they pulled them down into the slush, fouling their own nests; later when I had just put on one’s nose-bag the ungrateful beast banged the slushy bottom of the thing fair in my eye. Tickled by a statement of the Villain’s, to the effect that he had written his sister for “six pairs of sox, two mouth organs and a clarinet.”
Walk March 