Letters from Captain Walter Morris Felix Gamble to his family, 1915-1916 - Part 12

a friend, a man, to my
mind can't be bad, if he 
can do this.
My poor pen cannot
tell you how happy (not
exactly happy, for I had
a strange feeling of hapiness

and regret surging through

me.) I was, when my

appointment necessitated

my returning to the Battalion
I was happy to see the
boys of my old company
(all who were left) openly

welcome me back, and
sorry and glad together

to see the boys of the Battery
openly express their regret
at my having to leave them,
and hoping that I would
soon return to them, you
can probable imagine my

feelings.
I am sorry to have
to tell you that I had
a bit of a blow out, for
a couple of days, after
my appointment, but I 

had to wet my star. I 
am back to the old groove
again, coffee being my
strongest stimulant.
I hope you are not 
working yourself to death,
I want to see you and
Mum looking ten years

younger when I come 
back, you had better 
die your hair, what?
Malcolm and Ivor both
wish to be remembered
to you.
Your loving son
Wally.

P.S. I hope Dad isn't 
jealous, because I 
gave you an extra page
Wally.

France.
22^nd August '16
My dear old Mum
I havn't done
badly today, I've censored
about one hundred letters,
some of them eight pages
of goo-goo; it's rotten to
have to read a mans love

letters, especially those
who have got it bad.
I say mum, I haven't
had a parcel for quite a
long time, in fact, not since
I've been in France, not 
that they are necessary, but
they are like a Christmas
or Birthday present, you
don't really need them, but
you like them a whole lot.
I'm living like a 
lord mum, you would

laugh if you could see
me. my poor batman, has
to put up with all the
privations & hardships
which, poor old Katie, Annie
and Bently, had to put 
up with when I was 
home, and I am if possible
more careless and untidy,
and if anything more lazy
then in those days. Yes -
I thought you would pity
him.
Well Mum, Kitcheners
three years are nearly up.
if he is right, and I believe
he is, it won't be long
before I am driving up
the old Avenue, not without
a certain amount of swank.
You will be sorry to
hear that poor old Angus
 

Mackay was killed the
other night, he took the
place of a chap, who failed
to come up to scratch at
the last moment, and
like the man he was,
"calmly went to death
without a word". - "Greater
love hath no man than
this, that a man has shall
lay down his life for a 
friend."
Ivor and Malcolm
came along to see me
the other day, we had 
a great old talk over
old times. They are two
fine soldiers, if hell burst 
open at Ivors feet, he 
would only curse Fritz
and continue what he
 

was doing.
There is one thing I
would like very much,
Mum, and that is a group
photo of the whole family
of course including dear
old Mona, I am longing
to see how you all look,
I remember how you 
used to look, but a 
couple of years has probably
made some difference.
France is a beautiful
country, Mum, and the 
people are a wonderful
race, very hospitable, and
jovial, in spite of all
their sufferings, except
for the absence of the mail
element, you would not
know that anything unusual
was happening, three or
 

four miles behind the 
line.
A few days ago I 
read in the daily paper
(we get the English papers
a day late) that the Russians
were rolling forward,
capturing armies of Huns.
The Turks had been
hopelessly beaten off the
canal, Bulgaria was
retreating before our troops.
Italy was advancing,
and on the Western front
great progress was made
in the vicinity of Poiziers.
I was ek exalted, and as 
if in answer to my thoughts,
that Fritz was beaten,
the beggars bombarded us
like "^_____" and soon I changed
my mind.
Lots of love
Wally.
 

P.S. I am like 
"Jhonnie Walker"
Wally.
France
30^th August 1916.
Dear old Dad.
I discovered a 
little secret of yours the other
morning, in a most peculiar
way. I went round to the 
latrines, and with my usual
short sightedness omitted to
take a supply of paper. There
was only one dirty piece
lying on the ground. I absently
picked it up, and pres
proceeded to wipe the dirt
off it, when a little m.g. caught
my eye at the foot of "The
dove of peace" It was good.o.
Dad, but you might have 
sent me cuttings of the Series.
this one is N^o 3. I cut myself 
down to the absolute
 

minimum of paper, and
saved the "dove" an awful death.
I am very curious to see
rest of "Monumental Misfits",
Dad, pla please sent them
along to me.
It is a blessing to be
gifted with a sense of humor
which will come to your
assistance even under the
most trying conditions. Last
night after a days rain,
which flooded everything which
was not a foot above the 
ground - my bunk is one
foot six inches, so I missed
it - I emerged from my 
dugout to see how the men
were faring for tea. I
arrived at the cookhouse,
after miracue (can't spell it)
anyhow it was a damn close
 

go. to slipping on my block
in the mud, but thanks
to my still active limbs, I
remained upright.
well, I got there - for the
second time - to find a 
foot of water covering the
floor, - a couple of "Dixies"
floating round, together
with the salt & pepper tins
and several other cooking
utentisels (as you were) utensils.
In the doorway, a the offsider
was - covered in mud from
"^_____" to breakfast time, was 
bailing out the water with
an empty jam tin. You
should have seen the look
on his hard old dial, on 
looking where the fireplace
had once been, I beheld
a figure - It was the cook -