Shifting into a Nissen hut. It’s a bit crowded; but a change of neighbours varies the monotony. Three giddy airmen (probably N. Zedders) swooped down on us from nowhere and buzzed around and over our camp like huge mosquitos. One madcap dipped down so as to just shave the top of a telegraph post under which I and others were standing. You should have seen us jump!
8 p.m. Today was pay day and tonight was rum night and the first night we have all been together in the new Camp. We have a huge new canteen with two fireplaces. I spent half an hour there, drying socks at the blaze, making sundry purchases, drinking beer and watching the effects of firelight on the rough semi-bibulous faces and forms of the thronging soldiers. How quickly a camp like this materialises! In a couple of days huts, tents, canteen Q.M stores, smithy, buildings of wood and iron, canvass, tarpaulin and what not, spring up like mushrooms, men take possession of them and the whole is soon a going concern.
Walk March 