Whilst doing some sorting I found an old notepad. Amongst the ammo states, timings for swimming, notes from Bowman lessons and reasons for needing battle procedures I found a poem. An excerpt:
..."Door monkey in "Head Count!" shouted "I've got one!" they all retorted. Driving hard lest they be late to the first place at which they'll wait for the next leg of transport and to be pinged with tasks like baggage escort. Two more chaps were added to the number at that rendezvous where they were told to remember, a great long list of prohibited items, reiterated hourly to prevent RAF sad-ons. Assembled now except one slacker they were set for war and in fine fetter. Rallied by their leader with beret green (kick-proof dog no where to be seen) they looked to him with fondness and trust despite the fact he was soon pissing off. The next in line would often cry, because he was the only qualified PTI, asked to beast with scarce any notice..." here the writing becomes indecipherable and pages are missing. The next page is a note about an estate agents. It was all crammed in with no space, more jammed in than enjambment.
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