I met a very angry George Neve this morning. The F.O.P. at High Junk and Port Shelter had been ordered to evacuate their positions. They were told to bring with them instruments that they could carry, smash those that had to be left behind, and rendezvous at midnight at a little village in Junk Bay. They were to show a light when they heard a launch approaching. George had gone out to pick them up and after wandering a long time up and down the coast looking for them, had found the whole lot lying asleep on a beach. What bad junior N.C.Os we have.
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