Everyone has asked everyone else where we are going next, and everyone has been given benevolent smiles and subsided into a Camps Library magazine or book. The sitting-up cases are pottering about in the sitting-room, where there are basket chairs and the gramophone. I can see them through the open door. The nurses have fixed jolly little curtains and things about, so that the place looks very homely. I gather it's a sort of rest-house, or waiting-place, where cases can be put, and stay put, till arrangements have been made for their admission into the big hospitals, or wherever they are to go. We have all been separately examined by the Medical Officer. My arm is so much better, I think it must be practically well. I don't know about the leg. I asked the M.O.--an awfully decent chap--to try to arrange things for me so that I should not be cut adrift from my own Battalion, and he said he thought that would be all right. * * * * * 3.30 P.M. I'm for Blighty. The M.O. came and sat on my bed just now and told me. He certainly is a decent chap. He said the Medical Board had no hesitation at all about my case, and that I was to cross to England to-night. But he said I need not worry about my Battalion. He was awfully good about it; and he's giving me a letter to a brother of his in London. He thinks I shall be able to get back to my own Battalion all right, and he thinks I shall be ready for duty much quicker by going right through to Blighty than by waiting here. But what do you think of it? Fancy going to Blighty; and to-night, mind you! I'd never dreamt of it. And what about poor old "A" Company? It's a queer feeling. We've all been sorted out now; the goats from the sheep. I suppose it's a case of the worst-chipped crockery for Blighty, and the rest for tinkering here. But I can't help thinking a week, or two, at the outside, will put me right.... Here come Army Forms to be signed. * * * * * 9.30 P.M.