[Sidenote: AEROPLANE PHOTOGRAPHS]

I don't know when leave will be possible. This job is rather in the
making, and is really very important stuff. A great responsibility,
says the corps commander. In fact, I am just a bit nervous about
things generally. That battery that was reported in so-and-so wood. Is
it there still? Well, where has it moved to, then? You are not sure? Why
not? No recent photographs of it? But why not? Can it be in so-and-so
quarry, perhaps? That light railway has been repeatedly smashed up by
our heavies. Repaired? What? What evidence have you? Let me have a map
as soon as possible, showing exactly where you believe that line has
been repaired, and the exact position of that battery in the quarry--if
it really is there. But don't tell me it's in the quarry unless you are
quite sure. Yes, sir. And you'd better have the map duplicated. How many
can the draughtsmen print before to-morrow? About 300. Well, send out
copies. I must have that battery silenced at once. Do you see? Can I
rely on it being sent out in time? Yes, sir.

That's the sort of thing. Things that _must_ be done and quickly.
Perhaps it sounds nothing much--a mere bit of a map. But maps are like
lamps to men in the dark. And they must be accurate. To me, therefore,
the most inaccurate, absent-minded mortal before the war that ever
breathed, it is all a source of great anxiety.


_January 12._

I've got a bedroom with a brick floor in a cottage. I really hardly know
what it's like, as I arrive there about twelve o'clock every night and
fall into bed, and then up again at 7.30 next morning as a rule, and