War Diary of AA Laporte Payne 11 Mar 1918
Brigade Diary, Personal Diary, Operation Orders, Note Books, Memoranda
March 11 1918
The weather has been delightful here the last two days. At present my quarters rather resemble a pig sty, but at least I have a sleeping compartment to myself. It is now summertime and not dark until nearly eight, and much warmer.
I am now back at the wagon lines after a time in the gun line. I wonder how we shall like it when it gets really hot.
There is a new book out by a man to whose lectures I used to go at Cambridge, “Church and State in England to the death of Queen Anne” by Professor Gwatkin, since dead. I am afraid I shell not be able to read it until the war is over; and when will that be? A seven year’s war, a thirty or even a hundred year’s war!
It is so late that the cocks are crowing, and I have to be up at five! However as my Father used to say “Example is better than precept.”
Novels are like drugs so I eschew them.
M.F.L.P. March 11, 1918
I have just returned after a lengthy stay in the gun line, to the wagon line, and it is now so late that the cocks are crowing. And I have to be up at five.
The weather is at present beautiful. The others have invented a game, some mad game, a mongrel half badminton, half quoits. It makes me too hot. And I have even played football. But I was fearfully stiff afterwards. The Veterinary Officer played goal, for the officers against the sergeants and the rest. He has a fat red face, and a bald head, and confesses to 30. The right back was the fat adjutant in yellow socks. A major of 45 was the other back. I played right half, and the result was a draw.
Mine is the unfortunate captain’s job. At present I am up to my eyes in indents and requisitions. From guns to whale oil, and from horses to shirts! My correspondence is mostly of rude letters from A.O.D., D.A.D.O.S., S.C.R.A., and other horrid people. “Why did you overdraw one ration on 15.2.18?” “You cannot have Scissors. They are not authorised.” But they expect the men’s hair to be cut.