Letters from Captain Walter Morris Felix Gamble to his family, 1915-1916 - Part 11

France
6^th Nov 1917
My Dear old Dad and Mum
This is a
bit of "bullsh" sent to me
by General W.R. Birdwood,
quite a decent souvenir
de la Guerre. I hope it
does not "go west" on it's
way over.
I'll write a letter later
on, as I have to play a
football match in about
half an hour.
Your loving son,
Wally.

"Our 'appy 'ome"
5^th August 1916.
My Dear Herbert
If Dad had
nothing to do with that
sketch of yours, it was 
not at all bad, but
I have my doubts.
At last the K.S.S.
has made a name
for itself. it is the best
run of victories it has
had since I knew it
have known it.
By the way I want 

2/
your photo, so when
Dad can spare five
minutes from the building
and if his teeth have
been fixed up, ask
him to take your photo. 
also Mums.
I have a photo of Dad,
Dad doesn't like it, but I 
do although it makes him
look too old. I also have
one of Horace, & Fred, I
tore off the latter from the 
head neck downwards, not
being able to stand

3/
the awful collar, tie, and
waist coat he was wearing,
to put it vulgarly, it was
too "flash". Tell him
to get another taken also.
Well, I have two more
to write, so I had
better hang up the
receiver, & ring off.
Love from your big
brother 
Wally
P.S. I'm sorry I can't
keep up letter for letter
with you, but I write
whenever I can. 
Wally.

[*P.S. Are you, like
me - still blamed
for everything?*]
My Dug Out
5^th August 1916
My Dear old Horace
Well, Horace
old man, you have managed
to beat Herbert at
last, Keep it up. if he
beats you in the next
examination look
out for yourself. I'll tell
Jackie to give you an
awful hiding.
Have your poor legs
resumed their normal
size yet?
I suppose you are
wondering when you are
going to be promoted to
the rank of Uncle, wouldn't
sound bad. "Uncle Horace!!"
Would it?
I am becoming some
cook you won't need
Katie when I come home.
We have Jellies, Birds
Custard and Pan cakes
every day. I think you
had better come over
here, and I'll fatten
those legs of yours for
you. Be good. Horace old
chap. Big brother Wally.

[*P.S. Poor old Norm Scott
has gone.
Wally.*]
Beautiful France
5^th August 1916
Dear old Dad.
I must write to
the boys today Dad, and that
will mean cutting you short.
I am living like a
fighting cock, Six of us are on
a gun and we have been
paid well and regularly
lately, and most of it has
gone into a food fund, which
means everything from Quaker
Oats, to Jellies, consequently
I am growing horribly fat,
in fact almost as fat as
Ivor.

3
I ran into Dolly Grey (an
Old Scotch boy, whom I 
met at Barwon Heads, he
was a fine fellow, - killed 
while doing great work -)
he asked me to be bayonet 
man for his Bombing party,
who were to clear the
front line, I don't remember
any more until I reached
the line. Then I saw someone
stalking about, about thirty
yards along the line, in 
propper Australian. I asked
him who he was, He
thinking I meant someone
else answered in a
2
I received a letter from
Edgar Marshall yesterday, he
was wounded in the leg
about a month ago, and is
now having the time of his
life in England. My luck
is dead out I can't even
get shell shock.
This business in not
without its humor. - A
couple of weeks ago, Fritz
gave a section ^of our trenches
a hell of a Bombardment,
word came down to
supports that a raiding
party was in our front
line, as I rushed out
with my bayonet fixed

terse voice, "Shoot the "__!!
"__"!!! if he doesn't stop,"
It wasn't bad was it?
I bought a few souvenirs,
to send home the other day
but as per usual lost all
but three, so I am sending
these to you Mum & Mona.
Hope you get them, although
they are not much good [[?]]
its all that can be got in
the villages near the firing
line.
Well Dad, I must try to
and write to the boys, its
some task for me I can

tell you. The power of my
pen is weakening through
lack of practice, I am as well
as could be. love Wally.
 

[*Poor old Angus was
Killed on 19-8-16. He died
like the man he was, for
another. Wally.*]
France
22^nd August '16
My dear old Dad.
I have plenty
of time to myself these days,
so I am endeavouring to
make up some lost ground
in the way of writing.
You are apparently a
bit of a seer, for I received
your letter anticipating
my appointment one day,
and sure enough my
"pimple" flew through orders
the next.
Now that I am in a
position to sit down and
smoke, and look back at
the months, - crowded with
events, - which I spent
in the ranks. I can see
that it was all for my

betterment.
I never went about
with my eyes shut, but
was ever trying to learn
w the ways of men, and
to a certain extent I
have succeeded. "The self
same spirit that drives
a man to the depths of
drink & crime, will do
the deeds in the heroes,
vau, though he lives till
the end of time." No matter
what kind of a life a
man leads, no matter
what his vices are, if
he proves himself to be
a man at heart in time
of trouble, he is the man
for me.
Time and again, I have
seen a real out and
outer, risk his life for