Monday, October 22, 2012




The last 24 hours before battle

A driver in the Royal Army Service Corps writes home to his mother from a slit trench in the Western Desert, 24 October 1942.

I awakened next morning, cramped and sore, to find, seeping through the little spaces where the corrugated iron did not meet flush with the sand, faint rays of light. Dawn was breaking. In a few hours the vicious heat would start and the agony of our confinement would really begin. We had our meals with us — in tins. Cold bacon, bully beef and biscuits were on the menu, and these things had to satisfy us until darkness fell.