Letters from James Joseph Makin to his family 1918 - Part 3 of 6

2/  
small boys and bought into a  
game of cricket. The kids were  
honored for us to play with  
them, and played their hardest. 
In the evening we went to  
the suburban theatre to a spy- 
play called "Inside the Lines." 
You have no idea of the row  
kicked up by the gallery folks,  
almost making the actors inaudible.  
The poorer Classes of Londoners  
are frightfully ignorant, and have  
no parallel in Melbourne in this 
respect. 
Les is still at Warminster. 
I daresay you have as late  
news of him as of me, as  
I suppose our letters travel
home together. 
I told you, I think, that I  
had thrown figures to the wind.  
I am now a correspondent  
in the Allotments Section and

3/ 
I write 30 or 40 letters to the  
various States of Australia every  
day. I dictate as many as  
eighty letters a day to my  
typist, right from the files.   
It takes about a month  
before one becomes accustomed  
to the work, and it is about  
the only job I have been in 
since I enlisted where I can 
show a little individuality. 
I shall not be long in  
getting another stripe on this  
work I think, if I get my  
dues; but of course one   
seldom gets that in the army. 
When the last lot of  
promotions came out and I 
was excluded you could have  
knocked me down with a  
feather. It was a great injustice  
and I told the responsible  
Lieut off in great style.

4/
It remains to be seen whether he 
will nurse a grudge against me  
in consequence; probably he will.
Brian Rush, formerly of the 
Customs in Melbourne is a Lieut  
in Finance, but in a different  
section. Harry knows him I  
think. I often see Charlie  
Dunn of Armstrong St. He is  
a Lieut in the Engineers, and  
is stationed down at Salisbury  
Plains somewhere.
Cricket has started again  
in England. The long nights  
(it is quite light enough to  
play at 9 o'clock) are suited  
for plenty of practice, and  
England should produce the  
best cricketers in the world.
The Westminster School, about  
the largest public school in London
has an oval at Vincent Square  
right in front of our building.  
All the boys of this school  
pass from cadet schools, and all

5/ 
become officers. Every afternoon  
they are playing cricket or 
football and I believe much  
more time is devoted to sport  
than to learning. Looking  
from my window across to  
the ground, I am always  
longing for my school days  
again, and think of these  
long wasted months. Wasted  
of course I mean in my own  
selfish light, but I suppose I 
am helping to vanquish old 
Fritz. All the same, and in 
this sense perhaps the time is  
not wasted. 
It has been raining  
heavily all the morning, but  
the sun is just beginning to  
shine again, and I am  
looking forward to a good  
long walk this afternoon. 
After a week of solid

6/ 
indoor walk I breathe a sigh  
of relief on Saturdays. Now is  
the time when it is good to  
be alive.  After months of foggy  
wet weekends, one sees the  
sun, and walking about the  
streets one notices the Aust- 
ralians basking like so many  
snakes. Their faces are fairly  
radiant with the joy of being  
alive. On such days as  
these we needs must think
of our sunny native land, 
and wonder what our good  
people are doing. 
I trust you are all well  
and happy. I should give  
a lot to know you are not  
worrying overmuch, and  
fretting at the time it is  
taking to finish this ghastly 
business and bring us back 
to our loved ones. Best love  
and kisses from your affect. son,  
Jim 

Finance Section
(Allotments)
A.I.F Headquarters,
London,
26.5.18.

Dearest Mother,
Your ever-welcome letters of 24th and  
30th March just to hand. Somehow   
when I get your letters, dear  
mother, I always get a violent 
spasm of home sickness, and in 
a few moments my thoughts fly
back to all my dear people so  
many thousands of miles overseas. 
I often want to write to you  
just as I feel when I get your  
letters after weeks of waiting, when  
I am almost too full of pleasant  
memories of home for expression in 
writing. Do you ever think my  
letters very impersonal in tone, -  
not like a son to a mother? 
It is because I disguise my  
feelings with writing commonplace
news, and outline my sports and  
work in great, big London, so  
that perhaps you will think I 
am not worrying of you, and that 
I am making the best of things while

2/ 
I am lucky enough to be living 
in safety and comfort. I have
often wanted to tell you how I  
appreciate your beautiful words of 
motherly love. They comfort me  
greatly and it is pleasing to
reflect that one has been some  
comfort and little worry to the
best mother in all the world. 
You were asking if I still  
have the crucifix and other little  
badges and things I brought with me. 
I am proud to say that I have  
every one, and I treasure them  
very dearly, because I know it 
is your wish. I shall bring
them all home to you some day, -  
let us hope it will be sooner than
appearances indicate at present. 
I still go to church and  
live up to my religion. I try  
to live cleanly, and though we  
are confronted with many pitfalls  
in the way of temptation, I have  
confidence that I shall be always  
able to resist them. Last time I
saw Les he showed me some medals  
he brought away with him; he would

3/
not lose them for anything. I had  
a letter from him yesterday from
Warminster. He is well and cheerful,  
and says he is likely to be  
here for some time yet. 
I never hear from Harry now.  
The letters passed from "seldom to  
never." I suppose it is my fault  
for not writing more often. 
I want you to keep this  
letter for yourself alone, dear  
mother, for I know what father is.  
He would sneer to himself, or  
openly perhaps, and so hurt your 
feelings. I shall write another  
for his benefit tomorrow. They will  
both go by the same mail. 
How does he behave these times?   
Still as of old? Believe me, I  
am always thinking of you, and  
how I could have been some  
degree of comfort to you in your  
times of worry, but for this unfortunate  
war.  It hurt me much more than  
ever you could imagine in leaving  
home to come. I daresay you  
regarded me as thoughtless and

4/ 
impetuous, but I had thought  
of it continually for months before  
I finally decided I had to come. 
When I get back I know  
I shall appreciate home once more  
all the better, for the old saying  
is wonderfully true, "absence makes  
the heart grow fonder." I hope  
you are looking after yourself as  
far as possible and not overdoing  
that endless task of house keeping. 
I suppose Ruby is a grand help  
to you now. I absolutely cannot  
realize Ruby quite a woman and  
Perce and Gert. quite grown up. 
When I think of you all, it  
is as I knew you when I left, -  
Gertie a bonny little girl, Perce in  
short pants and Ruby a young girl. 
I have to close now, dearest  
Mother, as it is getting very late.  
Keep on smiling through your tears,  
and pray that God will bring  
us both back home to you safe  
and sound of limb to the welcome  
which we know awaits us. 
Fondest love from Your affectionate son,
Jim

27 Chesilton Road,
Parsons' Green
London, SW6,
28. 5. 18.

Dearest Mother & Father,
I am afraid this is  
going to be rather a
rough old letter. I have
come home early and
gone to bed, but now that
I am in bed I feel 
like writing a letter. 
Things are much as
usual in London.
I am still doing my
job on Hdqrs week in
week out without much
variation. The week
end before last I went
down to Bournemouth
for a couple of days,