Looking over the drawbridge into the dry moat Denis Cleese saw a group of fox cubs, two or three were dead but one was still alive and the vixen was nowhere to be seen so Denis climbed down and rescued the survivor, adopted him one might say. How the cub was fed I don't recall but he lived mainly in our hut and became quite tame. He travelled to Bristol in Denis' battledress blouse and was duly shown family and friends. He was still quite young and played happily with the troops though at night he used to steal our socks and shred them; he stayed with us some time but one day he disappeared and the sentry who had been on duty the previous night said that he had seen the vixen on top of the cookhouse roof so perhaps she had found her son and reclaimed him. We were kept busy one way or another but not always fairly. Denis Cleese complained that over the previous 10 days he had averaged only four hours of sleep per night; this was obviously due to mal-administration. The officer hearing the complaint brushed it off, saying that fours hours of sleep was enough for any man. Later the duty rosters were reorganised. The army hated to see soldiers with too much spare time; whitewashing border stones or blacking the soles of boots really served no useful purpose except as make-work projects designed to keep us out of mischief. In keeping with this idea various little schemes were thought out to keep us occupied and sometimes bribes were offered such as being excused duties or being eligible for late night passes. So it was that late night passes were offered to the members of the hut that provided the best turned out soldier for guard duty. I regret to say that our principles had sunk so low that we all entered into the spirit of this with gusto. Some polished boots to a mirror-like shine not forgetting to blacken the soles and count the hobnails before metal polishing them; others pressed trousers and brushed the uniform of our protégé. Brasses were polished to an unbelievable lustre, then, as we were about to present our man we looked outside and saw the rain pouring down and the mud beginning to form. Not to be beaten we stood him on a short plank; with a soldier at each end of the plank and another behind to provide stability we carried him to the appointed place on the parade ground and deposited an immaculate Bert Hickman ready for the inspection of the guard. We won. I think it was in 1941 that the GOR was relocated once again, this time to Area Combined Headquarters (ACH), somewhere in Plymouth; we were driven there for our shifts daily by lorry but I have no idea where it was exactly and I couldn't find it today even if I tried.