7/07/1917

Dear Mother

Today is the anniversary of my first time over the “parapet’ and incidentally of poor Bert Allen and Billy Hookhams death and by co-incidence I am at the present moment attending a school which is only about 2 miles from the very spot.

Yesterday in company with two or three others went over to the place and inspected the old trench systems and saw the spots where we shivered under past bombardments and we even saw the spot where we all climbed out over the parapet to attack the Huns. Pozieres looks very much different now to what it did just 12 months ago. Then it was a vast shell crate field with shell holes bigger than I have ever seen since and all one great brown slimy sticky mass covered with bodies of the dead and the usual litter of war, criss-crossed with tenches and barbed wire. Now the whole area is covered with a hundred different kinds of wild flowers, weeds and grasses to a depth of two feet or so, as if nature is wanting to screen from view the wickedness of the past.

A splendid macadamised road like Lackey Street, Summer Hill runs through what was once a village and water points and tram and train lines also intersect the old battle field. A labour battalion has spent some time in cleaning up with the result that now the spots where men fell are, for the most part, marked with a wooden cross with the inscription containing the rank, name and number and battalion inscribed wherever possible. Where it is not possible, a cross is erected to an unknown British Soldier. Here and there, for instance, near where once was a dressing station, there is a cemetery with graves made out in rows and pretty nearly all the Australian battalions including ours, have created a huge 8 ft. high cross as a memorium to the fallen men of the respective battalions. A battlefield cemetery is much different to a peace time one. There a grave is generally marked off with shell cases and wired in with iron corkscrews and barbed wire. On the grave is often found the steel helmet and rifle of the dead man which gives an air of reverence to the thing. I was able again to tidy Bert Allen’s grave whilst there. We then visited the Windmill which is only a rubbish heap now but which proved a pretty tough obstacle to our boy’s advance at the time. I also went down the big dugout in the village, known as Gibralter on account of its strength, down which a party of us took shelter last September or August when the Germans began to be a bit too much to allow of our continuing at our job of burying the dead. I think I described some of those things to you at that time.

I think that soon I with the rest will be bidding a last and final farewell to this part of the front and will most likely find ourselves where the other half of the Australian forces are doing good work. I notice the names of some of the places mentioned in the war news are quite familiar to me, especially Sanctuary Wood and Zillebeke. They were jolly dangerous spots once, but I suppose they would be safe enough now. It is such a pity that I am not able owing to the censorship to give you the interesting side of what happens over here. I assure you that if I could only talk, I could tell you some things that are not believed in Australia about waste and sacrifice and hardship etc, although of course nothing to compare with Mespotamia.

Well I will shut up about war news. I have not had any fighting for three or four months by the way and tell you some other things. First of all I am so glad you have had some of my letters especially that one of the 1st April. I have not heard from you until now for about three months and have not received any parcels from you.

The Hookams are the nicest and most kind and generous people I have ever known outside our own relations. They live at 24 Donovan Ave. Muswell Hill, N10. He is a Picture Moulding manufacturer and had three sons, Fred is in the A.S.C. in France, Will was killed under the circumstances of which you know and Jack is at Home and is just about 18 years old. He is an especially nice lad and has artistic tastes and is studying Commercial Art. He is a very thoughtful and gentlemanly chap too and I took a great fancy to him. Mr. Hookham is about 50 years of age, a shortish man with fair hair and full of good humour and benevolence and a thorough sport. He understands perfectly the wants and requirements of soldiers and is not mean or religious or any of those abominable things. In fact he is a man one could make a confidant or a pal of. He looks after Harold (Mitchell) in England just like a father and when he writes to me he signs himself “Dad”.

Mrs. Hookham is just like her husband in the feminine way. She is full of all the good qualities of a woman also and is medium in height and rather pretty and only happy when she is doing a good turn for someone. In fact I liked the Hookhams so much that I felt sorry that I had not spent the whole of my furlough with them instead of going to Putney. I would be so glad if you would write to them and keep up the correspondence too, especially if I am unfortunate in the next stouch I go into, as she REALLY likes me, and regards me as a sort of V.C. hero on account of what some ass went and said about my part in getting Bill in, that night. In fact, it makes me feel a bit of an ass instead of a hero. I also received a letter from Grace and one from Gert with this mail. I have not seen or heard from Ken Martin for about four months but rather fancy he is in England at some school or other. You see us older hands get good opportunities of becoming officers and sergeants now as there is rather a heavy casualty list amongst that class, so I suppose he has been sent over to Blighty to some school or other. He is not wounded I am certain.

I notice you have had those magazines or three of them anyway. You will receive eight in all, and I sent them indirectly to you so that you would get an idea of what things are like. I did not actually send them as they have a way of sending them to any address direct from the publisher providing we give the address and money.

I am glad you are well and hope you will remain so, as it is rather a nice thing to know all is well at Home. But you will tell me will you. This war is likely to go at least another winter I am certain, so you can send along the muffler and sox. That is all. Don’t ever send soap or tooth powder. A cheap towel is always acceptable and so is coconut ice. You will notice that Fritz has standardised his 5.9 gun which is the one that does all the damage so we can expect some nice barrages now. Our part, if report is true, will not be as hard as it has been heretofore as we are not used for the same purpose now.

From your affectionate son,

Walter.

(Original letter has a reference to 29/8/1917 London and Ireland)