18th October, 1943: Sweating in camp

This morning, I had my first breakfast in India. It was like a breakfast on a service camp in Britain. Sausages. Then things started to haunt me. This afternoon was too hot for any undue exercise. Most of us just lay on our beds, almost exhausted. It required no physical effort to perspire, it came freely. 

A steaming hot, refreshing cup of tea at four o'clock, the most looked-forward-to meal of the day, poured out of me as I drank it. But it was good. We, Loftie and I, spent the evening in camp, there was nothing to go out for.