Temperature -25.
Thank the Lord, another fine march—19 miles. We have passed the last cairn before the depot, the track is clear ahead, the weather fair, the wind helpful, the gradient down—with any luck we should pick up our depot in the middle of the morning march.
This is the bright side; the reverse of the medal is serious. Wilson has strained a tendon in his leg; it has given pain all day and is swollen tonight. Of course, he is full of luck over it, but I don't like the idea of an accident here. To add to the trouble Evans has dislodged two fingernails tonight; his hands are really bad, and to my surprise he shows signs of losing heart over it. He hasn't been cheerful since the accident. We can get along with bad fingers, but it will be a mighty serious thing if Wilson's leg doesn't improve.
No comments:
Post a Comment