France, 7/8/19l8.

Dear Mother,

I have not heard from you for a couple of weeks, but before that I had several letters from nearly everyone. I am glad to know that you are all at least (indecipherable) but I naturally feel depressed when I think that neither you nor father are enjoying that happiness which you should at your time of life. You need never try to varnish things over at all with me for fear of making me downhearted, I have become used to heart rending scenes and occurrences and would rather hear the truth so that I could try and help you if possible. Always remember my little banking account is open to you to use just as you wish. I have made one sacrifice for my country which has no particular personal claim on me, so that surely I can do some little thing for you who have always championed me. So therefore I say, keep your head up until I return. Well, enough of that, I will try now to be more cheerful, now that I have expressed my little grievance.

I have just had a little holiday in the back area in a reinforcement camp. I say it was a holiday because it meant a few days out of the danger zone. During the period I had to conduct two drafts of men up to the front: The trip meant three days marching by the use of maps but I managed alright without mishap. After about 18 days of this and similar work I went back to the firing line again and so far have done 14 days of it. During the period we had two brushes with Fritz but repulsed him both times and he did us good.

Otherwise the time went quietly enough and the weather was fine and dry. The firing line is all amongst the crops of oats, rye, cowpeas etc. sometimes three and four feel high. This makes night a very trying time as we can’t tell what number of Huns may be crawling about in front of us, ready to jumps up to surprise us. One night I got the shock of my life. I was peering over the parapet into the crop as I fancied I heard something moving. Presently two glaring objects about two inches apart appeared right under my nose – then it mewed and I knew it was only a cat looking at MY bright eyes in the dark. These are the little things that play on our nerves worse than all the shells as it means sudden shocks. We get used to shells and the ears become trained to judge the nearness of approach. If we hear the sound of a shell coming close we KNOW it is coming close and our nerves are therefore prepared. But when something moves out in the long grass we do not know whether 1 Hun or 50 Huns are going to jump on us with rifle and bayonet and jump up and hurl bombs and we strain the senses and nerves accordingly, which is bad for the nerves.

Once we were being relieved by another unit and I was detailed to patrol No Mans Land in amongst the crop whilst the relief was on. Whilst I was out the Huns suddenly shelled our front line with H.E. and shrapnel and I had to get into a big shell hole with my men. We could not see anything more than 100 yards away owing to the crop and darkness. All of a sudden almost directly behind us about 150 yards away, we saw one of our posts being raided by the Huns who were hurling bombs for all they were worth and the post looked like a big bonfire with flame of sparks. We could not fire at them for fear of hitting our own men and we could not go across to their assistance because we would have been mistaken for Huns ourselves and also we were too close to the Hun trenches, so we could only wait our opportunity between shells and make a run back to our own trench, which we did. I was practically hurled into the trench by the force of a rneinwerfer explosion. But we had no casualties and the Huns got beaten back without doing any good. Such instances often happen but it is seldom any man had more than one experience in six months. Another time I was on watch at 3 a.m. just at “stand to” time, which is the time everyone is most dopey and sleepy. Well Fritz decided to raid and forthwith opened up his barrage which came down like a ton or tons of bricks. His line was bad though and most of the shells fell in front or behind us. After about half an hour of it, over he came about 200 strong, just on our left so that we were really not in it. Our chaps were hanging over the parapet with big lighted cigarettes in their mouths, all the time were fondling their weapons in anticipation and I believe the blighters were sorry they were not in it. The Australians have a wonderful reputation as fighters now and it is our one growl that there is not more of them,

The weather now is simply perfect and the nightingales sing all night and the larks soar and sing all day, so that we have at least two cheerful things who do not care of understand about all the stir and stress. Ken Martin is back with his Battalion and I hope to see him soon. Fred Brown who used to live in Craig’s place is still alive and well and I have seen him frequently.

I hope you will excuse this newsless, grousing letter and if you can’t read it distinctly, hold the pages over a jet of steam so that it will become more plain, as it is written in indelible pencil.

Will close now, with love to all from your affectionate son,

Walter.