In May 1943 I was well established at boarding school in Salisbury, enjoying the summer term, where I had been since the war began in autumn 1939. By that time we were accustomed to tales of disaster and bravery from war zones, not that great dangers lay about us daily; but our housemistress kept us abreast of affairs, and we listened to important broadcasts, never missing a Churchillian call to effort and courage. In the family at home, we were of course always aware that my father was closely involved in the whole business, and we took it for granted that important things were afoot.
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