France 23/9/l9l8

Dear Mother,

I am now back with the Battalion and have been back for about four days. We are out for a bit of a breather after a very rough experience during the past six weeks. Our Battalion pushed them from Villiers Bretoneaux to past Peronne and took Mont St. Quentin which feat was very well thought of over this way and although I was not in it I feel very proud of our Battalion on the strength of it.

Altogether, our boys in France have done marvellous work and I do not think any troops have been asked to do as much as we have done without respite during the past eight months. I feel more proud to be an Australian every day. No doubt you have read a great deal of the doings of the Australian Corps in France and when we also consider what the rest of our lads have done in Palestine, we ought to feel justly proud of our selves as fighters.

At one time I remember when first coming to France the French and English seemed to be a bit patronising in their manner towards Australians. Nowadays that is altered. Instead they look on us as something to be used as an example and admire.

The weather which is an all important factor in military operations is at present fine and dry but it is uncertain and squalls of rain are frequent and it is getting cold in the mornings. When I left the base I was in charge of a draft of men for one of our divisions. We had a day in Rouen which I rather enjoyed and then came on here. The line now is laid out over the recently fought for country and is consequently a bit shaky and travelling was slow. The country is littered with graves of the dead and old shells, guns, vehicles and old trenches and barbed wire, etc. It looks very melancholy.

For miles and miles there is not a village or a civilian or anything in fact but the above and smashed villages. We are encamped in a smashed village on the banks of the canal. All the boats of the canal have been broken or blown up and consequently there is very little water in them. The lads have a rather novel method of catching fish by the aid of German bombs with which they blow up the fish.

Well cheerio, will close now with love to all from your affectionate son,

Walter

Ps- I have not had a letter from home for four months, but ‘ce ne fait rien, c’est la guerre.