Letters from Captain Walter Morris Felix Gamble to his family, 1915-1916 - Part 18

3
the Somme valley bristling

with guns, varying in

callibre from 18 inches

to 3 - four thousand

pieces in all, daily

pounding the enemies

lines, and communication

more wonderful still,

are over. Communications

These thousands of guns,

and hundreds of
thousands of men, are

fed daily, by an endless

stream of limbers
2

the propensity of the

remaining three.

We are on the Somme

at present. My poor

pen cannot describe

the wonders of modern

warfare. Concentrated

at one spot. England

has got into her stride

When I think of the 
old Gallipoli days, with

our crude bombs, crude

French mortars and

small callibre artillery

and then picture the

4
waggons, and motor

lorries, which come

and go without a
hitch - I realize that

at last England is awake,

and is playing for keeps.

I have had a great

holiday. Music Halls,

etc, Cafe's, shopping,

and sightseeing. It is

great to be able to
forget the war for 

a while, even if it

is only for ten days.

5
Such a holiday would

not appeal to me, you

think. Well, no more

it does, but you

can't pick and choose 
in the a place where

all game belongs to
individuals, and you

have to know one of

these individuals called

Lords. or something

of the kind, before you

can shoot on his land.

I don't! Winter is

6
just about here now

thus hitting a sea side

holiday on the head.

So you see, I had 

nothing else to do

except travel and

Ive travelled enough

for my liking

Ive seen some wierd

and wonderful countries

in my time mum, but

they are not one patch

even on Collingwood or

Richmond, let alone Kew.

Merry Xmas & Happy new

year mum, tons of love.

Wally.

''Mudville"

France

December 4^th 1916

My dear old mum

You have no idea
how much pleasure I get

out of the snaps, you send

me. None of you have altered

much, except Fred. he seems

to have grown considerably.

I have first censored some

letters, and in one from
Cpl Greenwood, I find that
his mother me you and
Mrs "Cook." at some meeting
or other, rather a coincidence
as Cook/ Greeny & myself,
were once on the same gun.
I am expecting a parcel
by the incoming mail,
perhaps I will get it, perhaps
I won't: my mail has been 
very irregular lately.
You'll have to excuse
this scribble, as I am

not in a letter writing
mood, but I can't wait
for moods, they are too
few and far between.
Cock/, is in Blighty so
probably won't be writing
this mail. Tell his mater
he is quite all right.
We are out of the mud
(i.e. the line) for a few days,
spelling in tine huts. The men
are next door, having a
concert, happy as schoolboys:
and they have a Gramaphone going
and they all join in the
chorus. The Gramaphone is
a great idea, tis a gift from 
some fine affair in "Dear ole Aus".
Well mum, I feeling 
goodo, but your know I
never loved write letters,
and I've got one of those
"never could" feelings now.
 from ever loving son
Wally.

[*P.S. Tell the boys I
will write to them
soon.
Wally.*]
"Mudville"
France
December 4^th 1916
My Dear old Dad.
I'm back to the
army again Dad. London is
just a glorious memory. The
prospect of another such trip,
makes this existance quite
bearable.
I have seen many countries
now, some of them are good, and
some are not. But even the
best of them, will never
tempt me to leave Melbourne
again, once I get anchored
there.
There is no news, except
that I am all right, and
up to my eyes in mud.
Ivan is still going strong, 
and "locky" is well and truley
in London on leave, having
the time of his life.
I say, who wrote that

Bullsh' in the paper about
my pimple.?
I had my photo taken
while I was in London, and
sent one to every girl I could
think of. One turned me down,
so I decided to try the lot,
including the one that turned
me down. It's the best way
when a chap's on this caper,
what?
I was very lucky when
I went to Blighty, the first
day I went to a class
when Edgar was convalescing
and i[[nvited?]] for him, but 
he had just left. - I
innocently accepted the
invitation to afternoon tea,
and before I knew where
I was, a pretty little girl
informed me that she had
dismissed him [[?]] a nice
hot bath was ready, and
my room was the second on
the left at stair.

To make long story
short, I stayed there for
no ten days; and Gee!
They couldn't do enough for
me. They nearly made me
home sick.
I spent my 20^th birthday
in a German (once) dugout.
some thirty feet below the
surface of the earth, and
in the night took a team up to
the line, through an average
of two feet of mud & slush,
every time a flare went up,
we would per force, fall
flat into the slush. Oh! it's a 

lovely game, but the wonder
of it is, that if I did half the
things I do now, in days of peace,
I would have had pneumonia 
about six times, with all its
complications, but these days,
I only get a slight cold, which
lasts a couple of days.
Cheer O! Dad. Your loving Son
Wally.

[* P.S. Remember me kindly
to Chas. Donald.
Wally.*]
"Mudville"
France,
December 6^th 1916
My Dear Fred,
They tell me you are
growing like me, I'm sorry for
you, but don't blame you.
I received a mail today,
but all the pleasure was taken
away, when I read an account
of some anti conscription procession
in Melbourne.
I was rather at a loss concerning
the conscription question, but that
article fixed me for once and all.
There is no need for me to say
which way. I'd like to get among
with a stakes. I am that damned
wild. I can hardly write sense.
If the government has the guts
to push it, you can take it from 
me, that the conscripts will get
a very rough house over here.
You only wrote me a one pager,
so you will have to be content
[*with the same.
Best of luck in your exam
Wally.*]