You've been down among the archives again to retrieve this chronic chronical of the Russian Front eh? It has been quite some time since I frequented those gloomy bat-ridden gallerys where the sun never shone nor allowed the permeation of the scented East Kent country air. Only searching footsteps can be heard, the squeaking, the flapping of tiny leathery wings, the odious rasp of Olga's farts as she lingers in wait for some poor misguided researcher and the occasional shriek of terror as one or the other is caught in the muscular embrace of this monstrous half-woman of the Russian Steppe. I envy your courage JRT as you tend those precious parchments. I have been wondering of late wether or not our long lost pal SNAFU could be walled up down there? After all, he disappeared in the most mysterious of circumstances....
Splendid yet undeserved illustration old pal!
'Find your enemy and shoot him down - everything else is unimportant.'
