A lot of shelling occurred last night, they used the GRAD missiles lavishly.
In the morning I went to the Site, took the barrow constructed the day before and made off for the nearest wood.
It turned out to be rather a crowded place as for a wood.
While felling trees to cut out twelve poles for the Site's projected fencing, I spotted no less than half a dozen men (some with guns), a woman and a horse trafficking along the path.
I brought the poles to the Site—an up-hill work most of the way. The straining at the barrow was taking too much out of me.
At times I simply had to stop for a rest and—swimming in the sweat inside my clothes—stretch down on the road beside the loaded barrow.
Back at the Site, no sooner had I untied the poles from the barrow but there broke out the Sodom-and-Gomorrah which goes on till now.
Today I saw:
- explosion bursts ahead and behind me;
- a huge piece of a tree trunk thrown aloft like a pencil butt among the spray of roof fractions madly spinning in all the planes;
- a large pack-house going up in flames;
- a mangy dog with his head completely lost desperately tearing off for life not knowing where to among those crazy thunder-bolts from everywhere.
And from the evening impressions:
In the intervals I:
And I had:
Now I've got all the right to call it a day and to wind up with a –