”“How are you feeling physically?” Xandra asks.“Better,” I say, considering my state, “At least, I think so. My head is just cloudy now. I...think I’m waking up.”“Nauseated?”“A little, but I think it’s passing.”“Good,” Xandra says, “You probably didn’t swallow too much seawater while you were drowning then.”“I’m sorry,” I interrupt her, “While I was what?”Emily interrupts her before she can answer me and says “You were starting to drown. More like you were in danger of drowning, really. You did. The field kitchen and cookhouse stores, manned by cooks detached from RAF Halton, were in hessian and canvas encampments, and the mess hall was another large, marquee type, tent. All very different from the brick built facilities of RAF Halton, and in fact what impelled me to start smoking were the field latrines.When I say 'latrines' I am not referring to pits dug deep into the ground to collect effluent but a canvas and hessian shrouded line of thunder boxes.When seated at ones devotions,. More

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