One morning at breakfast in the salon, one of the military powers-that-were asked the Captain of the ship if there had been anything unusual happen during the night. The Captain shook the guy by telling him that a torpedo had missed the ship. I immediately thought of the poor soldiers on F deck.
Yep, we were getting closer to it.
We, eventually, got onto a train bound for London. While we were in the station a lot of young and older ladies, doing their bit, sold hot drinks and little cakes (tarts). As I didn’t have a clue to the value of the ‘foreign’ money given to me I gave one of the pretty sellers a one-pound note to change for one lousy, little cake. She looked perturbed but graciously gave me bags full of coinage in change. I kept putting the coins into my pocket and kept tightening up my belt because the weight of my drooping, trouser pocket was continuing my trousers to the station platform with each intrusion of coins.
We arrived at Uxbridge. I slept soundly on three straw-filled biscuits placed loosely on an iron-slatted bed, but during the remainder of the night a bare part of me kept getting between the parting biscuits and onto the ice-cold, iron slats. I kept remembering about the stories that I had read pertaining to the English schoolboys and their surroundings.
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