Our time was devoted more to lectures on the world situation and on maintenance of our equipment. Now we knew it was only a question of a few weeks, or even less than that, until our departure would be a reality. The great physical tension was about over. No more getting up before daylight, gulping breakfast down, and dashing off to a vacant field somewhere to hold simulated fire. There was the letdown from all that. But there arose a different tension, now, a tension resulting from uncertainty over the details of an event that was, in itself, an absolute certainty.
There is a wistful holiday season to the strains of "White Christmas", and 1943 rolls around. Our narrator looks forward to one last furlough ... and gets a belated and unwelcome April Fool's surprise.
Read it all here.
