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<p class="page" id="a5658033">[Page 33]</p><p>Scores upon scores go sick daily, but still no, we cant go away until we get orders, that means until the heads know that there are 60,000 men in the desert. Doing absolutely no training, waiting for orders and living on dust, yesterday and to-day I have been working in the Officers Cook Joint (joint is Australian for place, house etc). One hasn't the stomach to stand a good feed, though, tea and tobacco is what we mostly live on, and bread and jam which I nearly forgot to mention, (we get that much of it we don't even like to speak about it). We are told daily to "play the game", by our officers, who are of the best (bar for their messing about which I suppose is Millitary Equitte.) While the heads never give us a square go at all, Paid when they think fit, and if we try to barg in with a dirty, black, cheating nigger, and these M.P.s (Military Police) see us, we are put in quod, if we miss a parade or do the slightest thing wrong, which many seem right from our way, but not so them, we get 7 days Confined to Barracks as a first offence</p>