Thanksgiving, November 25, 1943: Wretham
Beautiful day. Went down to line. Everyone flying. Not me. Hell! Cater flew my ship. Hydraulics out again. Double Hell!
Turkey for dinner.
Our “Yanks” GI team beat the “Rebs” in the squadron, in a hot touch football game.
I went to bed at 6:30 P.M. Bound and determined to go to London tomorrow. Curse this weather, the dampness, cold rooms, poor ventilation.