January 27th, 1942

Here we are in Sydney Harbor at last, but they tell us we were given up for lost days ago – and I thought we were lost last night, because it sure was Hell. As it is, we’re six hours late in arriving, but, by golly, we’re here, and what a relief! The Red Cross are on board and tell us we are to be taken to a new hospital (Australian) about ten miles from town. My last official act on the ship is to use the bed pan – looks like I got the bug.

Here comes the stretcher bearers – big guys with one side of their hats turned up. I’m the last to be loaded, an ambulance all to myself. The Australian Red Cross give us some cigarettes and in the ambulance I go with an Australian medical man, whose name is Peter Grant, and my old faithful orderly, Stevens. Here we are at the 113th Australian General Hospital, a nice clean bed and something to eat. I’ve lost thirty-five pounds. All the officers are in Ward 5, so we’re together again, and safe – at least temporarily.

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