“Roslyn”, Hamilton Road, Fairfield. N SW

Dear 2nd. Lieut. Elkingtan,

I SALUTE THEE. Congratulations! I’ve already written 3 letters but I thought it would amuse you to hear how the old folks at home took the news of your promotion.

You would have laughed at Pa, I know. I brought home a prodigious mail from you, one for Gertrude and Mother and p.c.s of Boulogne addressed to me, and another chapter of the history of your part in the Great War to Pa (about Lagnicourt and taking the ridge.) We have a complete description so far.

Well, it was about 11.20 when I got home (and I sprinted too, as Ma can hardly wait for me to get back) and Pa was wheeling his eternal wheelbarrow (he is playing at hay making just now, and has a comical little heap he calls his haystack – rubbish he scythes on the place mostly). Ma was in her den, the kitchen, sewing but when I pronounced the magic words ‘letter for you from Walter’, Pa hobbled in and Ma said, as she always does “Oh the lovely boy, the dear old chap – get my glasses, oh num num” and clasps her hands and beams benignly all round.

Well we went into the living room to read them all, confusing each other with tit bits of the various epistles. Suddenly I said “He’s been made a 2nd lieutenant!”. Then Pa, who was reclining on the sofa, began to skite like mad and in five minutes had you a General. “Why, he can rise to anything now, it’s quite possible he could” he said seriously. Ma said, as seriously “But think of the danger. Which is the difference in a Paternal and Maternal love, you see. Pa sees the glory and Ma is more anxious than ever, the higher you go.

Pa is chiefly delighted because he is dying for you to get ahead of Uncle George’s boy, Leonard. Uncle George is evidently swelled up about having a lieutenant for a son (and so is pa). Then Pa said, “go over and tell Mother Jones” (I always take her mail and paper over she’s next door and is a toff from Mosman and thinks herself miles above us.) Her son has a snug safe billet at Headquarters and bought his rank and she and Pa had quite an argument the day before about whether one should buy or win a commission. Hence his anxiety to “get even” with her when you won yours. I did tell her but she was so disappointed because she got no letter that I felt for her, so didn’t do any blowing, and she was very kind and sympathetic.

Well, Pa went strutting about, ordering the horse and cow round, as if on parade. I believe he had an idea he was an officer too, he was so elated. The idea of you being saluted and called “sir” tickles me immensely. Of dear, do take care of yourself, I suppose your life, food and dugouts will be better, but a plain private is safer, isn’t it? Well, I’m sincerely glad but not surprised as I expected it to come after you got to France, sooner or later. I wonder if you are among those to go to Italy. It’ll be a bit tame being a grocer after all the excitement you are having, when you return.

Mind you get your photo taken in your new uniform as soon as possible- a nice one if you can.

Fond love from your sister

E Elkington

Editorial note.

(The address of ‘Roslyn” Fairfield, consisted of a small farmlet, on which they had fowls and ducks and maybe other animals. I know there was a horse, and a cow. But because money was short, Pa went out to country towns as an accountant/auditor and that left Ma and Edie to took after the livestock. A neighbour used to milk the cow for them and I think used their grass to agist some of his own animals. Ma (my Grandma) was often sick with bronchitis, Edie was not a practical type of woman, and it was not a great success. The heat was oppressive and Edie suffered with very bad headaches. I have seen a letter Edie wrote to her English aunts, in which she describes Grandma’s attempt to give the cow some grass which she had in her arms for the animal. But she was terrified of the cow and as the lovely little Jersey approached her, Grandma was sure she was about to be attacked and ran away, still carrying the grass – and of course the cow followed her. Poor Grandma. When this place was at last sold, they went to Francis Street, Carlton and then to “Forest Hill”, 25 Croydon Road, Hurstville- Grandfather died in 1925, Grandma in 1953. They were both born in 1855)