From "The Metamophosis of Peter Brooke" (Julian MacLaren-Ross)

Even the steady thunder of bomber planes on the way to Germany overhead failed to wake him, but before dawn he had a fight with himself in his sleep.  I watched from my ringside seat:  himself seemed about to win but just in time he knocked himself out.  I counted ten but he lay stiff and silent, not even snoring now; and in the morning we were roused by the ringing telephone.  It was my girlfriend to say that Germany had surrendered, which places this meeting in early May 1945.