But still I had not my demobilization code-marks and knew that when I reached the demobilization centre at Wimbledon they would refuse to pass me out. I did not care very much. Wimbledon was in England, and I would at least have my influenza out in an English and not an Irish hospital. My temperature was running high now and my mind was working clearly as it always does in fever. My visual imagery, which is cloudy and partial at ordinary times, becomes defined and complete. At Fishguard I bought a copy of the _South Wales Echo_ and read in it that there would be a strike of London Electric Railways the next day, 14th February, if the railway directors would not meet the men’s demands. So when the train steamed into Paddington and while it was still moving I jumped out, fell down, picked myself up and ran across to the station entrance, where, in spite of competition from porters—a feeble crew at this time—I caught the only taxi in the station as its fare stepped out. I had foreseen the taxi-shortage and could afford to waste no time getting to Wimbledon. I brought my taxi back to the train, where scores of stranded officers looked at me with envy. One, who had travelled down in my compartment, had been met by his wife. I said: ‘Excuse me, but would you like to share my taxi anywhere? (I have influenza, I warn you.) I’m going down to Wimbledon, so I only need go as far as Waterloo; the steam-trains are still running.’ They were delighted; they said that they lived out at Ealing and had no idea how to get there except by taxi. On the way to Waterloo he said to me: ‘I wish there was some way of showing our gratitude. I wish there was something we could do for you.’ I said: ‘Well, there is only one thing in the world that I want at the moment. But you can’t give it to me, I’m afraid. And that,’ I said, ‘is the proper code-marks to complete my demobilization papers. I’ve bolted from Ireland without them, and there’ll be hell to pay if the Wimbledon people send me back.’ He rapped on the glass of the taxi and stopped it. Then he got down his bag, opened it, and produced a satchel of army forms. He said: ‘Well, I happen to be the Cork District Demobilization Officer and I’ve got the whole bag of tricks here.’ So he filled my papers in.