The ponies are absolutely running out now. Only three of the five could go on without difficulty. Weary Willie is in fact a good deal done up, and to push him further would be to risk him unduly, so tomorrow we turn back.
I hope that decision won't come back to haunt me -- Oates feels it will and is most adamant in showing me he thinks so.
The temperature on our march tonight was -21 with a brisk SW breeze. Bowers started out as usual with just his small felt hat, ears uncovered. Luckily I called a halt after a mile and looked at him. His ears were quite white. Cherry and I nursed them back whilst the patient seemed to feel nothing but intense surprise and disgust at the mere fact of possessing such unruly organs. Oates's nose gave great trouble. I got frostbitten on the right cheek lightly, as also did Cherry-Garrard.
Tried to march in light woollen mits to great discomfort.
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