you lie in bed. It has been in the neighbourhood of
90 degrees throughout the night; you have probably spent most of it
smoking in a chair in the moonlight listening to horses whinnying,
donkeys braying, dogs barking and yelping without a pause, and men
groaning and tossing in the steamy sick tents. The business of getting
up is one of infinite weariness. There is nothing fresh in the morning
feeling. At eight the mercury is probably 100 degrees. At times, as you
dress after a tepid bath, it is necessary to sit down and take a rest.
Your vesture is simple--a thin shirt, open at the collar, and a pair of
shorts, stockings and shoes. During the day your feelings do not
correspond to the height of the mercury, for after breakfast a certain
amount of energy possesses you, and the morning's work becomes possible.
But after a couple of hours, in the neighbourhood of eleven, when it may
be anything from 110 to 120 degrees in the shade, a kind of enervation
sets in. This is partly due to lack of food. For some reason we found it
necessary to eat a considerable amount. The theory of a simple diet, a
little fruit, meat once a day and in small quantity, did not work out
in practice. After midday the world is a blinding glare and the intake
of air seems to burn the lungs. A comparative stillness descends on the
scene. On the plain activities cease. Through the double canvas roofing
of a tent the sun beats down like a giant with a leaden club. The
temperature in the wards increases. At the worst moments you feel
distinctly that it would be possible, by giving way to something that
escapes definition, to go off your head. A spirit of indifference to
everything is necessary. Any kind of worry is simply a mode of suicide.
A man, for instance, who feels continually he ought to be up and doing,
and that to lie still in vacancy is a sin, does not do well, unless,
perhaps, he dwells in a cool stone house, under fans, with plenty of
ice, as was the luck of some. There must be no inner conflicts. Cranks
soon suffer. Life becomes simplified. An oriental contempt of the West,
with all its preoccupations, grows insensibly. When a dripping orderly
came to rouse you to see some case, you understood perfectly the
attitude of mind that has produced the idea of Kismet. Why move? If the
man dies, it is Allah's will. It is Allah's will that he is sick. Let
him remain in the hands of Allah.

It was during the afternoon and evening that heat-stroke occur