Since the lower tier was more easily accessible and had obvious advantages for manipulating equipment and other gear the first comers naturally took possession. I was in the first rush and immediately staked my claim by depositing pack, rifle and other impediments on the ground floor. My satisfaction was short lived. Uncles (his real name) was, at a guess, a well domesticated bachelor with an overwhelming passion for evening cocoa. Climbing into the upper bunk he neatly arranged all his goods and chattels; set up an abominable primus stove of sorts and balanced his mess tin precariously on the top. I lay on my back apprehensively watching events through the slackened chicken wire above my head. That was the one night Uncles went without his cocoa. A few extra stains on my uniform was not of great import but the full contents of one mess tin of boiling mixture on the chest was not to my liking.
Moved to Agnez(-lès-Duisans).
Wire beds, etc.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |