Letters from Oliver Joseph Burke Clarke, 1916-1917 - Part 1

[*O Copy 1 page 1*]     3     9 AUG 1916
My dearest Nickie,

Its an awfully long time since I wrote I know,
but "I'll tell you about that" as they once said on the Sydney
Stage. The last letter I wrote was from "Somewhere in Egypt",
in other words I did not inform you as to my whereabouts.
However there is now no secret attached to that, we were at a
place called Serapeum, this was our first camp after leaving
good old Maadi, and believe me it wasn't a change for the better.
Since then each camp has been worse.

Serapeum, as I probably told you, was on the Canal
and between seventy and eighty miles from Cairo. The Canal
was certainly a great treat to all of us, but something like
that was needed to balance the miseries we had to put up with
through the heat and the pure unadulterated desert sand. My
word its the real thing in desert sand. Up over the tops of
ones boots, and just think what the horses suffer when they
carry us over fifty miles through it. This is when we are
after Turks, so of course have all geat up, and when we go out
prepared to fight the enemy, the weight of man and gear is seventeen
stone.

What do you think of Eugene Waters luck? Ran
across to say Good bye a few days before we left Serapeum. He

had managed to get a commission in the Engineers, and was off
to France in a few days. Lucky dog isn't he? I don't mean
because he has a commission. Had a p.c. from him, the other

day, he was real well, but hadn't so far clashed with the Huns.

All the Infantry have gone to France, as you
probably knew before I did, also there is a rumour here now,
that the 20th Battalion has been cut up. Well I hope this

isn't true, since Gerald and Daly are both in it. You'll

probably know the truth of things long before this reaches you.

What do you think of Vin stealing a march on me?
I only saw him for one week in Cairo, when we were moved from
Maadi to Serapeum, and I wrote to him from there, but got no
reply. I wish I had half the beggars luck. Fancy him just

being here long enough to see the place nicely, and then being

taken off to the " city of the world". I suppose he will be

training there some time yet, and that is as well too. Have

just written him advising him to keep his head well down if
he ever gets into it. I don't know why he has never written

me. I wish I could have got a transfer into his lot, but
could not work it.

When we left Serapeum we went to a place called
Selhair, still on the Egyptian side of the Canal, but not close
enough to have a swim. Well we spent four or five uneventful
weeks here, and on Easter Sunday, instead of having a real good
dinner, and a day of rest, we armed ourselves with Bully Beef
and biscuits, and started off over the Canal to look for Turks.
It was a forty mile ride we had before us, and
instead of having Bully Beef and biscuits for dinner, we only
had the biscuits, or rather some of them, as the halts we made
on the way were not long enough to permit of opening a tins of
Bully. So from 7 a.m. that day till 8 p.m. we had nothing
but a couple of biscuits which we ate as we rode along. After
tea that night we again mounted out poor tired steeds and travelled

all that night. At daylight we halted and had breakfast,
again we started off continuing all day with the exception of
one or two short spells for the horses. Well we didn't travel
that night, and I can tell you I was thankful. It was the
first sleep for two days and a night, and riding all the time.
Its just as well a fellow has seven skins. I still had one

to go. My only fear that night, as I lay myself down, was
that the Turks would shell us, and so disturb my sleep. But

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they showed their consideration. At daylight next morning we
started out again, riding still farther out into what I thought might
be Asia Minor, but I was too uninterested to think. That is how
I feel now Nickie, and have felt so for some time. I was not an
exception either. The daily routine in connection with the horses
along with the ever present sand and terrible heat is enough to dis

hearten anyone. We had two or three days of 124 degrees in the
shade, and there was no shade. Now what do you think of that?
Is it any wonder that we are all anxious to get out of Egypt?
Every day the temperature is 100 degrees or more, and we have to go
out and work in it. There is lots of work in connection with
Light Horse, particularly on Active Service.

All our supplies have to be carted about in from
place to place, both for the horses and ourselves, stables and tents
are cleaned daily, horses fed, watered and groomed, stable Picquet
which comes round every second or third night, and hosts of other
duties, which are even worse than these. All these small jobs
are done in the scorching sun and sand, and to make things worse
there is no comfortable rest to look forward to when its over. Just
throw yourself down in the dirty sand of the tent and let the flies
chew your ears off. Flies arn't the only things either. The
little devils that inhabit a chaps clothes are most annoying.
"Chats" are what they are commonly called, and daily we indulge in
"chatting" competitions with varied results. Sometimes I manage
to get the most greybacks, and so take a couple of packets of cigarettes,
or something similar as the prize.

Well to continue my uninterested and interrupted
journey into Asia Minor. As I think I remarked the Turks did not
blow us to atoms during the night, so at 3 a.m. next morning we
started off again. We rode in for about another six or eight miles
and then camped at what was considered to be a suitable place. It is
a suitable place too, but only as far as the desert is concerned.
The place is called Romani, and I think I dropped you a card from there
There is nothing to distinguish Romani from any other piece of sand,
no way of knowing its boundaries, where it begins or where it ended.
However wo were told its name was Romani, so accepted it was without
further comment.

Well being in enemy country, and close upon the
Turks we were on real Active Service. Believe me m'dear its very
active. A chap can hardly visit a friend in an adjacent tent
without carrying rifle and ammunition with him, full water bottle
and twenty four hours iron rations with him. Iron rations is a
military term for Bully Beef and biscuits, and is most appropriate.
Every morning stand to arms from 3.30 till 4.30, and from there commence

the daily routine. Its pretty rotten starting the day at
5 or 6 a.m. but when it comes to starting a few hours after the previous
one has finished, well its rather boring. Don't you think?
From time to time we would go out on patrol duty, riding about all
day in the scorching sun, this to see that the Turks made no sly
advances etc, etc.

After being in this particular corner of Hell for
close on six weeks,a couple of regiments of Light Horse came out from
the Canal, to relieve us, and not too soon either. When we rode
into camp near the Canal, I'm sure there could not have been a more
x care warn, and hungry looking crowd. Some of the horses were
only skin and bone, and many of the men were no better. But before
I leave Romani, I must tell you about one of our Turk hunting Stunts.
As Nora Lynch would say "I simply shrieked."
On this occasion we came up with the Turkish Outposts,
though of course not unexpectedly (Seventh Light Horse never
blunder along without knowing where they are.) Honestly I never
laughed more in all my life. We rode out of camp at midday on a
certain day, the date of which I forget, rode all that afternoon and
all that night, only stopping once or twice to give the horses five

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minutes blow. A chap gets a tired feeling, believe me, especially
when he has been up since 3 a.m. the day before. Anyhow I said
before, we rode all night and just about 4 a.m. and day was breaking,
we sighted Turks ahead. Terrific excitment of course. The
Turks had seen us and were getting away over the hills as fast as
they could. Most of them had mounted their camels, but one or
two were too freghtened to waste the second that ^^u would take to board
"the ship of the desert" and so were scampering away on foot. Of
course when we saw the possibility of them getting away from us
(camels by the way, are faster than horses) it was the end of everything.

We ripped the spurs into the horses sides, so suddenly
that the poor brutes bounded about ten feet into the air, mine I'm
sure went fully twenty feet, and then remembering that we could not
go without the command of the Officer, pulled them up with sufficient
suddenness to stop their hearts beating. Well we waited for three
or four seconds, which really seemed like three or four hours, and
our Officer did not give an order, so like all Australians, we took
the business into our hands. Some went to the left, others dashed
off to the right, and my section, four men, made one terrific plunge,
and bolted past the Officer in charge, and into a gully directly ahead
of us, into which we had seen a half dozen Turks disappear a minute
before.

Well just as we rounded a bend we came upon a Turk
who had been a bit slower than his mates in getting away. He was
running as hard as he could, and dragging a camel along behind. He
was too frightened to take the time to mount it, and at the same time
he realised its value too well to leave it behind. A holy fear had
possession of the poor devil as it was, but when he saw four lunatics
come galloping right down on top of him, well he nearly stepped over
the great beyond. I would give anything for you to have seen the
terrified look he wore, as he waved his arms and legs in token of
surrender. But now the funny part happened Nickie.

Of course as soon as we came up with "Abdul" we
all dismounted or rather threw ourselves out of the saddle in the
quickest manner possible. As it happened I was the first to grab
him, when to my great surprise he throw his arms round my neck and
KISSED me. Yes, well and truly kissed me, and he got in a good
couple of dozen to, before I had sufficiently recovered from the
shock, to give him the "don't argue", this latter was the cause of
him taking a couple of hasty steps backwards. I must admit that at
the time I thanked Uncle, from the bottom of my heart, for the teution
I had received from him in the noble art of seif defence. Well
I had had enough, so standing back a bit, I unslung my rifle to keep
him quiet, while one of the others disarmed him. This made him
a hundred times worse. Evidently thinking I was going to shoot him
then and there, he frightened the very Dickens out of the lad standing
nearest him, by making one terrific bound straight at him, and kissing
his hands. Maybe we hadn't as much cause for alarm as we thought
as the Turk would probably not have bitten us, but you know Nickie,
he could give a chap a nasty suck. Anyhow alls well that ends well
and after some minutes careful manoeuvring we managed to surround
"Jacko", and got him to understand we had no intention of killing him
just then. After that we had no trouble, and having disarmed him,
led both him and the camel back to the Colonel, to whom he was duly
presented in the name of the King. I led him a greater part of
the way home. and in the course of the journey had my photo snapped
about a dozen different times. Some of them might possibly find
their way into the Mail.

Lord, it was funny Nickie, the different expressions
on the faces of the lads who were lucky enough to get the embrace,
along with the holy terror of the Turk, were enough in themselves to
make a cat laugh. If Des hears of the Turk kissing me I suppose
he will say, as he once said to a certain hairdresser. "It serves him
(the Turk) right."
Well to go three or four pages back to where we
left Romani for the rest camp. We had no standing to arms at 3.30

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every morning and no Turkish patrol to look for, so were better off
in that respect, otherwise it was as bad as the Active Service camp.
The scorching hot desert was still with us, and the tucker was about
as bad as ever. We spent about a month in this so called, and
miscalled rest camp, and then took ourselves back to Romani, or to be
more correct about a mile short of it, where we still are, and so far
there are no indications of a move.

As before we still go stunting, or patrolling the
desert in search of Turks, for a couple of days at a time, but we meet
seldom meet with anything to break the monotony. Occasionally we
come across a Turkish Patrol and perhaps exchange a few shots but
nothing more.

While at Serapeum Nickie, I received your two
bonzar big biscuits tins of good things, and since I've been here have
received two more. Florrie also sent me a great big tin, full of
bosker things, besides a separate parcel of cigarettes. Of course
Vera the inimitable, who never forgets anything, sent me an enormous

parcel, and in it was just everything a man could wish for. The
renowned Khaki Kronicle comes along regularly, and is just as humorous
and witty as possible, each edition is as clever as the previous one,
and that is giving it the highest recommendation possible. The
worst of it is Nickie, a chap can do nothing to show his appreciation
of all these things you do for him. Thank you. is as much as I
can do at present. Please God, Mrs Richardson can do something
for me when I get back, something substantial, and something that will
last.

By the way, I have never got the money you sent
to Cairo. Have had no opportunity from this God forsaken spot,
but I daresay it will be sent back to you, so will be all right. Got
some real pearls of letters from you a couple we of days ago, and
shall answer them this week, also must write to Vera and Florrie.

This letter I started some time back, as you will
guess by its appearance, but I know you won't mind the look of the
thing. The censor will have quite enough with eleven of these
big pages, so will keep the rest of the news till to-morrow's letter.

There is one thing that I am terribly sorry about
Nickie, I forgot Peter's 21st, birthday. I never could remember
birthdays, and even forgot my own till you wrote and reminded me.
Anyhow Nickie, give her a big hug for me, and tell her that when
I hit Sydney again we'll have a big enough blow out for half a dozen
2lst, birthdays strapped into one.

I hope everybody is tip top. Give them all
my best love. Dad. Uncle, Pookie, Gardie, and tell the latter gentleman
that I'm going to get half a dozen "Abduls" for him alone, if
I have'nt already done so. Don't forget poor old Pony, away out
in the bush, and alone, all the "Three Sisters Sprightly," love'em
all for me.

Well Nickie the thirteenth page might cause the
letter to stray, so will wind up here.

Saida, for the present m'dear, and I promise not
to keep you waiting long for the next one.

Lots of love.

Ollie.

P.S. "Saida" pronounced (Sar-eeder) is the Arabic for "good day
or some equivalent form of salutation.

This is written at Ber-et-mala, a thickly sanded hill one
mile from Romani, on the 9th day of August, in the year 1916. Tin dish

COPY. [*0 Copy 6- p1*] Moascar
29th. Nov. 1916.
[* — COPY FROM*]
[*PAULINE*]
My dear old Nickie,

By the way of giving you some of your own back,
I'm writing on some of the paper you enclosed in your letters. This
will not reach you till late in December or perhaps not until the
New Year. Have already posted one that should reach you in time
for Xmas, so this one being a bit late wont matter much, will it?

Dad and Des you tell me will be home for Christmas
am terribly sorry I hav'nt had the chance to write to them, but will
do so as soon as possible. Please give them both my very best love
and to Pony, best wishes for the 8th Dec. I hope Dad is strong
and well. I wish he could get something to do in Sydney where he
could be properly looked after and be home with you all. Never
mind, we'll hope for the best though, and be cheerful in the worst.

Would very much like to have written to Pookie
and Uncle, but simply had'nt the time. However this, as all my
others, is to be regarded as a general letter. A "To whom it may
concern" sort of affair, so each and everyone of you must consider
that it was addressed, personally, to him or herself.

After being discharged from Cairo Hospital I was
sent down here to Moascar. Moascar is the name of the 2nd Brigades
Detail Camp at Ismiailia. Our camp is right next to the town which
is itself almost on the banks of the Suez Canal. Ismailia is, as
you no doubt know, one of the oldest towns in the world. It is
mentioned dozens of times in the Bible and is the spot to where
Joseph was taken and imprisoned, Joseph of "Joseph and his Brethren"
I mean, Yes, that's the firm. Remember Joe was sold into slavery
and his buyers led him from Jerusalem or Damascus right down through
the desert to Ismailia where he was afterwards imprisoned, having been
libelled by ^a certain creature. Also it might interest you to know
that the road by which Joseph came was the one taken by the Turks
when they came and attacked us at Romani last August. Also the
way they came when they first attacked the Canal.

Although the path is many thousands of years old,
it is invisible to the naked eye. Sand of course shows no wear
and tear. I think it would be more fitting if the word "way" were
used in lieu of road. Thats all it is, simply a way in and out
of Egypt on the Eastern side. Well so much for Joe and the track
he took. By the way I could talk for hours on the subject but must
leave it till I come home. I guess I shall keep you interested for
a day or two. Egypt is the most interesting country in the world
I shall hate leaving it. Even though the conditions under which
we live are the worst ever, I love it. I love Egyptians and their
ways and customs, their country is absolutely full of interest and
their history, as you know, is nothing less than the History of the
world.

[*O Copy 6 - p2*] ..2..
The Details then is a sort of half way camp;
men coming out of hospital or through any other reason have been
absent from the Regiment for a week or two are sent into the Detail
Camp and later on are draughted back to the Regiment as needed. Its
a real good rest Nickie and I'm enjoying it now. Practically
nothing to do and better tucker than at the Regiment, also plenty of
leave to Ismailia, and with a good excuse, to Cairo or Port Said.

Had three or four days leave in Port Said a little
while back, not a bad little place at all, stayed at a decent little
pub, and altogether had a decent holiday. About six weeks ago , one
week's leave was given to Alexandria. Thats the place for you
Nickie, I was among the first to get leave and as we had been out in
the desert for a fair while, had a few pounds owing to us.

Well I managed to get about six pounds and with
"me bundle on me shoulder" was off to Alexandria in the morning. By
jove I had a bosca time, the only drawback was that you could not be
here to enjoy it too. I always feel terribly selfish when travelling
about seeing new and bonzer places and am thinking of you all the
time and of how you'd enjoy it. But there you are, buried in dirty
little North Sydney, which is about as interesting as a dead Turk.
But don't give up hope Nickie, I think you will all see the world
before I've finished with you. I've just seen enough of it myself
to make me want to see more. I have some of the most elaborate
schemes for taking the whole lot of you round the world when I come
home. I'd love Dad to see Egypt.

The Officer that Paul mentioned was, I think Mr.
Waddell, I remember hearing that an Officer had been shot through
the face at Romani, but did not know him so took very little interest.
I'm not even sure what Squadron he was in and as there is another
Clarke in the Regiment he had probably heard the name.

Before I go any further I must explain to you the
way in which a Regiment is split up. Every Regiment has (3) Squadrons,
A.B.& C. Each Squadron is divided into (4) Troops A.B.C.D.
Strength of a Regt. is about 500 men, about 150 men to a Squadron and
between 38 and 40 men to a Troop. One man makes a difference.
I'm in the last Troop of the last Squadron, viz, D of C. D. Troop of
C Squadron if anyone asks you.

The chap named Boulton whom you are going to look
up, I know slightly. He was in the 8/7 but was never a pal of mine
I think a weak heart is the cause of his return. Don't forget
Charlie Holden, he is a mate of mine and wa as I've already told you
a very decent little chap.

I think the garden is a bosca idea Nickie, especially
if there is money in it. Also I've a word to say in favor of
Pookie's fowels. They can lay decent eggs, even though they're
brainless, where as the rotten fowels in Egypt lay eggs that a respectable
pigeon would be ashamed of.

What's all this I hear about Bort Fahey enlisting??
Paul says he has done so for the duration of the war, but I don't quite
know whether that means for Home Defence or not. I want you to tell

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Bort this for me. In the first place I'd much rather see him enli
enlist for Home Defence, there are many men to come before Bort, men
who are hard and more used to roughing it than he. Besides he has
so much to lose, if he were shot in either hand for instance, it would
mean his livelihood gone. He'd be a ----- of a loss to the country
too. There's another thing though and more inportant still. If
he does decide to leave Australia, tell him from me that under no
circumstances whatever to do so with less than the rank of "Officer."
Get a commission if he has to stay in camp six months to do it. Its
well worth the trouble, believe me. That is my deepest regret now
Were I enlisting again I should know better. Impress this upon him
Nickie, also upon any other poor devil you have any regard for, that on
no account must he or they set foot on a transport unless two or three
stars are shoulder high.

Ar'nt there an awful number of lads we know being
killed in France, Leo Moore, Alan O'C and Merton Allen also poor old
John C. Was terribly sorry to hear that, Eily was the first to
write and tell me about it. The poor kid was nearly heart broken.
Of course I immediately wrote back in the best way I could, then straight
way wrote to Vin telling him to write and give her any particulars
he might have. So poor old Daly has been wounded, hope it will not
be permanent. The Dyers must be frightfully cut up about Daisy.
I did not write to them because I did not hear about it for so long
after, then as my letter would take about five weeks to get there it
would, I think, only tend to stir them up again.

Have sent P.C's to Ba Crowe (she wrote to me) Prior
Bros, and Leo Garry. Glad you have heard from Frosty I went across
to the 1st. Regiment to see him a month or two ago but he was away at
the time. Hav'nt had the chance since but shall drop across him
some of these days. Max O'Connor is in the same Regt, I might drop
him a line. Eugene Waters drops me a line now and then, he is in
England at present and according to the letter I received from him
three days ago, is having the time of his life. Speaking of someone
or other I think he said "she was the most charming woman he'd ever
met" sounds good, does'nt it? English mail closes to-day. I
shall drop him a line. Delighted to get the letter of Vins that
Tim typed for me. The beggar has never written to me although I've
written three times. He writes rather well, does'nt he? So does
Paul.

By the way, I'm as wild as a meat axe about Conscription
being chucked out. Funny thing that most of the soldiers
here are dead against it. Can't for the life of me understand why.
Wish now that they had shoved it through without taking the vote.

Got the basca Christmas parcel a few days ago, two
biscuits tins packed by Uncle Pookie Peter and Paul. By jove we
had a bosca feast in the tent. Please give the senders of same my
best love many thanks and a mighty hug for me. Vera O'Sullivan
sent me a parcel for my birthday, also one for Christmas, Florrie too
sent me one which I havent yet received, but I know its travelling
round the various Hospitals along with another one from Mary Murphy.

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They told me at the Regiment that two had been there for me but not
knowing at the time that I was in Details they had sent them on to
Port Said Hospital, from there they will be sent on to Abbassia hosp.
Cairo, and thence to here, so that I'm expecting them any day now.

Everybody is good to me,  and they ar'nt they? Parcels from every
where, even from poor little "Mere Mere" (thats French for what Paul
calls Mary Murphy) to whom I have never even written. I shall write
her a volume as soon as the parcel arrives. Have dropped a line to
Vera and Florrie by this mail, getting better ar'nt I? Have written
fifteen (15) letters since I left the Hosp. one month ago, more than
I had previously written in six months. This much ought to be proof
that my previous neglect was not always wilful, not by a long shot, you
see as soon as the opportunity, where I have time and some sort of
accomodation offered itself, well I took it did'nt I? (aside:" I wonder
if that will square things up for me". Don't read this bit, its only
intended for the chap not sitting next me)

I don't need any warm clothes Nickie, before I left
the Hosp. I was given a couple of wollen singlets, under-pugs and a
host of other things. In the Hospital they asked me if I wanted a
pair of "Drawers",. Why they call Under-pants "Drawers" I'll never
be able to understand. Of course I was shockingly embarrassed, as
you no doubt can understand, blushed up to the roots of my hair, my
left ear twitched, I dropped my eyes (but did not break 'em) then with
out replying to such a blackguardly insinuation, took up my hat and
walked out. "Wretches", A thousand men with a thousand axes -
Paul wrote and told me that she overheard a couple
of individuals in the tram talking about Conscription and that she
felt like "chippin' in," but was afraid they might turn and say. "ah
shet up". She's a bit of a wag, this Paul of ours. Lord save me
Never struck me before, what a fool I was. If I had only the sense
to say "yes" to that pair of strides so kindly offered me in Hospital,
I could have sent them home to Paul. I saw in the "Egyptian Times"
a while back, where she had, lost a pair in Martin Place. Also they
might be handy going to and from the bath. Serves Leo Garry right.
If he had enlisted he would not be shoked subjected to such shocks.
Nothing like that over here. Of course I am taking for granted that
he was shocked. Don't let him know that I said anything about
enlisting, he might think I was rubbing it in.

Funny thing that happened in the fighting at Romani
on 4th August. By the way I got through without a scratch, but how
I or anyone else managed it, is more than I shall ever understand.
The bullets were like hail all the time. You could feel the wind
of them as they went past your ear. You might not believe that,
but its quite true. Saw some awful sights too, but if I told you
about them you might have bad dreams. Some of the fellows though
are funny enough to make a cat laugh/ One of the chaps who was hit
close to me, suddenly jumped about six feet into the air, yelling with
delight. "Harrah!" he shouted out almost a dozen times, "could'nt
have ordered a better one" He was covered in blood from a bullet
through the shoulder and was so carried away by the thought of a
holiday as to be utterly heedless of the thousands of Turkish rifles
potting away at him.

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Another chap was cleaning ammunition for the
Machine Guns. Sand on the ammunition will of course cause the gun
to jam. Well this chap had dug a hole or rather scratched a hole
in the sand sufficient to protect his from head to waist, the lower
part of him, legs and latter end, he had taken great pains to deliberately
expose. There he was then, patiently waiting to be shot;
waiting for what is known as a "holiday wound". His remarks were
funny. "That's heavy fire now, surely I'll get one out of that lot."
Anyhow much to his disgust, and with the greatest contempt for the
Turk as a rifle shot, he came out unscratched.

The difference between one man and another is
wonderful. Some are not the least bit excited when shot, while
others seem to lose their block completely. The more highly strung
ones I suppose. They are not conscious at all of anything they do
or say. One chap R-–- by name, either a son or grandson of Judge
R---- of Sydney, was shot only a few feet away from me. At the time
I did'nt know where the bullet got him, and neither did he, but it
turned out afterwards it was through the fleshy part of the thigh.
Well he made an awful fuss, crying out for "stretcher bearer" at the
top of his voice, even after they had reached him. When asked
where he was hit he said he did'nt know, but he thought, it was through
the heart. Now what do you think of that? There's a chap sitting
up in the sand and trying to convince everybody round that he had
been shot through the heart. Well I roared with laughter of course.
My head though, as you can imagine was mighty close to the sand, and
at the first roar I took a mouthful of sand. That settled it I
never smiled again. But to return to our friend R----. The
"stretcher bearers" asked him if he could walk. Walks Lord, no!
The idea was ridiculous. How could a man with a bullet through his
heart walk. So he was told to try and drag himself down the hill
a bit, just enough to be safe from bullets and that he would then be
taken away on a stretcher.

Well he had crawled about five yeards yards, with about

ten groans to the yard, when a Turkish 18 pound shell came whizzing
over. (I can imitate a shell, but not on paper) The thing burst
just over his head and the shrapnel hummed all round the place.
Everyone ducked. The danger past, we lifted our heads and looked
round. There was R-----, poor chap with a bullet through his heart
and unable to walk, unable to dive for cover as we had done, there he
was, one hundred and fifty yards away just disappearing in a cloud of
dust. He said he could'nt walk, but he did'nt say he could'nt run.
He is here in camp with me now, and strange to say not three minutes
ago he was talking to me. I wonder what he'd say if he knew what
I was writing.
I hav'nt yet collected the pound you sent me about
six months ago, surely there is some receipt or other that you have
to send me. Anyhow I have not had the chance yet.
A few days ago I received a magazine from Lil Buck.
Now please take particular note of this, and in your next letter give
me the answer. It is most important as I want to write and thank
her for it, but I can't, the trouble is I don't know her, name. In
the magazine was written "from Lil Buck--Nelson". Now what does

[*O Copy 6 - p6*]

..6..
that mean? If her name is "Buck-Nelson" I never knew it before. Or
perhaps she means that she had got married to some idiot named Nelson,
and as a clue as to who Nelson might be, she mentions the name of Buck.
If you don't write at once and explain it to me I'll get desperate and
bosh things up by writing a letter addressed to Mrs Lilian Nuck Bilson
For Gorsache help me ! ! ! ? ? ? ?

I must tell you about the illustration on the back
of a page of my second last letter. One time when I was at the
Y.M.C.A. tent supposed to be writing letters, a chap came over to
speak to me, and while we were yarning, a mate of mine who was sitting
beside me did that bit of a sketch "On the beach at Port Said". At
the time I intended to tear it out for fear that I might write to the
Manager of the Bank on the other side and not notice the sketch. But
I decided to take a sporting risk and forgot all about it. I'm glad
you got it instead of the Boss of the Bank, it might have affected my
next rise.

How's Peter's business getting on? Am working
very hard for her over here, by constant powerful arguing I have convinced over a dozen fellows that there is only one Library in Sydney.
I think there is a small fortune waiting for her in the future.

Am feeling tip top now Nickie, and am putting on
condition fast. Len and Jack Potts are both splendid. Since
I left the Regiment Len has got a job in the Orderly Room and is
wearing three stripes. Don't forget to address him as Sergeant if ever
you write.
So glad that Paul and Vera had a good time in Brisbane
it will do them both good. What a pity poor old Peter did'nt
go. Never mind that will be something she may look forward to when
I come home. There is no need to ask if you had a good time at
Mylora Nickie. I know the place too well for that. I've been
told that you were awarded the D.S.O. (dirty stop out), Never mind my
child, enjoy yourself while you're young, as Mrs. Vauglemann says.

Well I'm writing on this side because there is no
more paper quite handy, and anyhow fifteen pages is not bad. Not
much news in it I know, most of it being in refrence to, what you're
written, but there's no news in this blessed camp so I'm not to blame.

Give my very best love and thanks to everybody, and
try hard not to break down under the strain of this.

All my love to you and everyone.
Ollie.