My Friend Wainscott

My Friend WainscottI only knew Wainscott for a brief six weeks during the War, but he is always cropping up in my mind. We joined the Royal Navy in the same rabble, and went for our training to a converted holiday camp on the east coast of England, a depressing place of chicken wire and crumbling plaster, where the wind blew mercilessly, and a few peeling billboards still said Hello Campers, Hello. Wainscott seemed cast officially for ridicule: He was round-shouldered, stooping, and giant-footed...