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- Lunghua C.A.C.
August 26th 1945
My dearest Muriel,
I should think that the sooner I can get a typewriter again the better for your eyes + for my sense of dignity – do you know I haven’t written since April 1943, printing was the only variety of script allowed!
Talk about an answer to prayer..one of my neighbours has taken pity on me. Well, the day has come at last, but of all the manners of leaving camp that I imagined, I never visualized anything as improbable as the reality. I thought we might have to do a belt in the night, or have to undergo actual starvation or more of the horrors of war than just bombing in the neighbourhood, instead of which trucks come to take one out with whatever of one’s possessions haven’t worn out from the rigours of hut life, one is taken to friends or hotels; presents of food and every kind of delicacy are showered upon us from friends, acquaintances and complete strangers the local guerilla general has sent felicitations, sweets and cigarettes, charitable bodies of Chinese have given us pocket money to the tune of six lakhs each…nice to have, but we have so little respect for this daft currency that we pay $35000 for a pound of peaches and $50000 for a former $1 ice cream block. So altogether life has a flavor of the opera comique these days, which is as well, because there is behind all the joy
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