Thursday July 11th. Went sick again. Opium three times a day. Was standing in the porch awaiting the German Medical Officer when someone passed whom, at the last moment, I recognised as a English Colonel and stood to attention accordingly. It was O.C. Block I a comic self opinionated clown named Hodgekin, who addressed me in this wise ‹Why don’t you stand to attention, Sir? Do you realise that I’m the Commanding Officer of a Regiment!!! (Capital and italics) I’ll teach you to know who I am, my lad!!›
To which I, boiling with indignation ‹I did stand to attention, Sir, so soon as I noticed your rank›
To which he ‹Take that man’s name, so and so; I’ll carry this matter further; I’ll get you a dose of cells, my lad›
Words fail me! Apart from the fact that we are both prisoners of war, and that he has no power over me, am I a private that I should be spoken to like that? I rejoiced to hear later from an officer in his battalion that he was a most painful turd even in France.