All yesterday morning getting passes and Dr’s certificates (a ridiculous lie “free from vermin” – the Drs’ are sports enough not to inspect a man who, not having had a bath or change night and day for about 6 weeks, must be in a highly pestilent condition). We walk about a mile, then wait for a lift. First lift about 10 to 15 miles – then walk 4 or 5 miles in the slush; another main thoroughfare; another short lift; another tired tramp. Evening comes on apace – 30 miles yet. Happy chance! We stop a lorry – the driver has a brother-in-law in the N.Z. Army, and offers to go out of his way and take us right to the village we want. Another long, bouncing ride, sitting half asleep amid our belongings, petrol tins and lumber, and we reach this camp about 6.30 p.m.
Passed some interesting feudal relics on the journey – ruined castle and moated grange, drawbridge and hoary grass grown battlements, also a lonely lookout tower, hundreds of years old, standing like a sentinel at a bend in the road.
Walk March 