Got a snippet of news from Delhi on longwave before my neighbor's nightwatchman and his nosy dog started their rounds. I switched off but not before I heard that the British 8th Army broke through north of Gabes. Subsequently, as Manila had it, 6,000 more prisoners were taken. Walking down the street this morning I saw a friend and we both smiled, knowing what was on each other's mind.

"What's up?" he asked.

"All over but the shouting," I said.

"No doubt."

We both laughed and continued on our way — there wasn't the slightest doubt we were talking about North Africa.

. . . .

I received two notes from Joe, one for Ma and one for his friend, Iñaki. Joe says he's a bit overweight with beriberi. He's in charge of a barracks of 80 to 90 men. The camp has an orchestra, an acting stage group and a glee club. The boys do eight hours of light work on the field and say they're getting fair treatment.

Mrs. Cripe was the note courier. She found out recently that her husband died in Cabanatuan last September — even sent him clothes as late as January. Now she works for the rest of the boys under Mrs. Utinsky, who runs the note racket. It goes without saying that these ladies are risking their lives.