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Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

on the right of the road5'. ... He collapses into a dry
ditch until the whistle blows again.

Evening. April 12. Kantara. Left camp i p.m. yester-
day with advance party. Very hot; scent of orange
blossom. Train left Ludd about 5 and reached Kan-
tara at 9 this morning. When I left here a month ago
I hoped I'd seen the last of it for a long time! Felt
horribly tired yesterday and wasn't much improved
by sixteen hours of jolting and excruciating noise of
railway truck.

Every time I woke up my face was thick with sand
and grime from the engine. But it was warm, and I
had my valise.

It feels positive agony to leave those Palestine hills.
Here I sit, in a flapping tent close to the main road
through the camp. Strong wind, and sand blowing
everywhere. Nearest tree God knows where! Remain-
der of Battalion arrives to-morrow morning. Our party
was getting tents up this morning.

After one o'clock I escaped to a lake, about a mile
away in the salt marshes where nothing grows. It was
quite solitary except for an aeroplane overhead and a
flock of flamingoes. Kan tar a's tents and huts were a
sand-coloured blur on the edge of the hot quivering
afternoon. Blown by the wind, the water came merrily
in wavelets. I had a bathe in the shallow salt water
with deep mud below, and the sun and wind were
quite pleasant as I ran up and down—happy, because
there wasn't a soul within a mile of me, though it was
a dreary sort of place when one came to think of it.
Miles of flat sand; dry bushes here and there, but noth-
ing green, and the dried mud glistening with salt. But
the water was blue-green; and theflamingoes had left a
few feathers on the edge of the lake before they flapped
away with the light shining through their rosy wings.

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