After four days in a serious care wing of No. 4 Stationary Hospital in St. Omer, I have been moved to a recovery ward. I was allowed to walk outside briefly, which is a big step up from my usual limited excursions to date (bed to water closet only). The fear of infection from my shoulder wound has passed and I am told it should heal almost as good as new. My left arm will have limited use for a couple of months. Hurts like hell to move it and the arm is well slinged to keep it immobile for now.
I have heard nothing from Abeele but apparently the squadron has been made aware of my condition and whereabouts. That all seems like another world right now, and I am simply trying to pass the days as quickly as possible until I get out of here. One of the fellows in the ward (Geoffery Wester-something or other) is a chess player and we have commandeered a ratty chess set from the staff and hope to play in the coming days. The white bishop has been lost and a salt shaker substituted in its place, and we have had to make a board with paper and pen but it will do nicely.