Papers of Edgar Sydney Worrall - Wallet 2 - Part 11

No 4 Command Depot
Worgret Camp.
Wareham
11^th Nov. '16
My Dear Millie,
Since last writing I
have been kept very busy. We have
changed Camps twice and are now
at Wareham, a quaint little place
near the South Coast. From here it
is only four and a half miles to Corfe
Castle - a place so often mentioned in
history. Although only a small village
of perhaps two thousand inhabitants
there are at least seven churches
in it. Last Sunday morning and
evening the churches were crowded
with our chaps. They even had to
seat them in choir and gangways.
This rather gives the lie to those
who claim that we are an ungodly
and crude crowd.
I received papers from Father and
Mother yesterday and I am glad to
see that Mr Hughes in spite of so
much opposition is sticking tohis
guns. The figures as displayed here
are rather disappointing. Noes lead.
 

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You will all be in the midst of
holidays when this reaches you, and
I hope you are all enjoying yourself 
to the fullest extent.
We have made friends with the
butcher down here. He claims to be
of the oldest family in Wareham
and proudly showed us the horn
of the last bullock his grandfather
killed when he - the grandfather
not the bullock - was 83.
There is little to write about. If
I go out to Corfe Castle this afternoon
I'll be able to write more this mail.
Best of love to all
Edgar
 

Worgret Camp
Wareham.
Dorset.
24^th November 1916.
My Dear Father;
Consequent to the sinking of the "Arabia
we have had no Australian mail for over three
weeks, but one should come along withing the next
few days. I have just had a letter from Harry
written from Cairo, when he was there on leave.
He has had a great time looking around at the
remains of so splendid and ancient a civilization.
Coming from Port Said he would pass through
Tel-el-Kebir where we were camped for nearly
three weeks before going down the Canal and
out into the desert east of Suez, so we have
travelled over very much the same ground.
He is anxious to get across to France where
things are a little bit more "willing", so within
the next twelve months we may be writing to
tell you of a reunion in that country.
Conscription seems to have proved a failure.
I thought it was going through with an overwhelming
majority, and was very disappoint
to see that I had been mistaken. Let us hope
that voluntary enlistment will keep our number
 

2.
up over here, for the number of our fallen comrades-in-arms
is immense. Only we who know
of cases where whole regiments have been nearly
exterminated can gauge the amount of our
losses. My own Battalion has suffered very
heavily. There will be few familiar faces when
I have the good fortune to return to it. While
we are on the subject, I may mention that yestereve
I wrote to a Major of ours, who is
new in England, asking him whether he
can help me return at once. This camp is
composed solely of men who have been
through Hospital and are awaiting to return
to their respective units. A draft will probably
not be leaving here until after Christmas, so
if I can go through some other Camp within
a few weeks, then so much the better.
There are eight sergeants our of the 24^th
in the Camp at present. Two of us occupy the
cubicle in which I am now writing. It
measures 8' x 8'. We have managed to
squeeze a table and a couple of chairs in,
a few pictures decorate the wall and on the
shelves repose our respective family photos.
 

3
We have the electric light on, and are as
comfortable as we would be in our own bed.
That is one thing soldiering does for you. A man
can turn any old thing into something usful
if not exactly ornate, and generally manages
to be very comfortable settled without the
few luxuries that one time we thought essential.
The ancient town of Wareham is really
historical. Here were waged many fierce
battles between Alfred and the Danes. The
old ramparts and wall of the town still
remain, and in parts are quite forty feet
high. Just outside our door we can see
the remains of Corfe Castle plainly silhouetted
against the sky, between a breach
in the mountain ranges. In the early part
of the week the range was topped with snow
but it has since disappeared and we have been
pleased with moderately fine weather. If a week
passes without rain, the celebrities of Wareham
gravely shake their heads and are afraid
"there be a drought acomin' this side Easter",
or make some such other morbid explanation
on the most unusual conduct of the weather.
 

4.
A friend from the 23^rd Infantry at this point
dropped in to see me, so I have rather lost the train
of thought. I am sending home some photographs
of friends of mine also a couple of myself.
Will you send one on to Norman.
Hope you got the Christmas Cards I
sent, and in time, I want to write to Mother
before I turn in so goodnight and the best
of good wishes.
Your loving son,
Edgar.
 

6/12/16
Worgret Camp.
Wareham.
Dorset
6^th December 1916.
On Sunday night I wrote to
Norman that we fully expected to be going
across to France within twenty four hours.
Just after I posted the letter, the orders
were cancelled. Tomorrow however will see
us once more on French soil, unless of
course orders are cancelled once more.
Although the prospect of spending winter
in the trenches is not what one might
term appealing, still being back once
more among the old familiar faces - or
what are left of them - will amply compensate
all difficulties. I was looking
forward to spending Christmas with the
boys again, and it seems as if my
ambition will be realized. We are
all well clothed and have little to
fear from the season, of course the Huns
are merely a detail now.
Since the day the ambulance train
carried me from Dover to London
 

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and then on to Norwich, right up to
the present moment, my last night for
some little time in England, I have
met with nothing but kindness and
supreme generousity from all sides.
When I came across first, Harry
and the Bidencopes were the only people
I knew of in England, and now on
my departure I am flooded with messages
of good cheer and friendship from
scores of people I never dreamed of.
I have little time on my hands so
excuse the short epistle. Should I find
time tomorrow I shall write more.
Have no fear as to my welfare for
I'm as right as the Bank of England.
Tenderest of love to you all from
Edgar
 

Worgret Camp
Wareham.
Dorset.
7^th December 1916.
Mother Mine,
I wrote Father last night that
we expected to go across today, but the
orders have been cancelled again. Tomorrow
however should see us away. The hanging
around waiting to go is very monotonous
work and we all wish we were right
away and into it again. It is preferable
to the suspense and expecting to go any
moment. There is another sgt from our
company here. We were gazetted sgts.
on the same day and have been
boon companions, so we will be
company for each other until we
arrive back to our unit.
So glad to hear you had a good
holiday in Bendigo. Mrs Clark wrote
me an extremely nice letter, which I
have just answered. She says she is
sending on a parcel of warms. Nothing
could be more exceptable at this time
of the year I can assure you.
 

Even in the small town of Wareham
I have made friends who have opened
their homes to me, and treated me like a
son, so I leave behind a host of kindly friends
and carry with me their best of wishes.
Every one I have met, have shown
me the greatest kindness, and one more
fully appreciates it, when his own relatives
are thousands of miles distant.
Have no fear as to my welfare, as
I am as fit as a fiddle, and the "mild
wound" reported by the authorities, which
by the way took eighteen weeks and over
to heal, troubles me no more.
Tenderest of love to you all
Edgar