ity of which the old porter had warned me. Men
and women struggled through until just before
dawn. At times they complained loudly. At
others they congratulated themselves in equally
unrestrained voices. The idea of slecping occurred to few. The man who shared my cabin
went to bed with his shoes on. Perhaps he was
wise.
There wasn't much talk after breakfast. The passengers sat or walked about, anxiously scanning the water. The coast of France emerged from the haze. We passed the skeleton masts of several ships, sunk by submarines. We made the harbour entrance, and spirits revived. Such chatter as last night's disturbed the boat again. People wondered if there would be at the dock a new ordeal. There was, for France is as careful and suspicious as England.
It was one of those hot, brilliant days Normandy receives occasionally. The harbour, untroubled by the slightest breeze, was like a mirror for the violent sun.
We were herded in a shed of a single story on the water front. A tall military policeman with bristling moustaches guarded the gate to the examination room. Beyond him we had glimpses of a long deal table, around which sat numerous
