September 1944. - Australian War Memorial

Driver/Pte./Lance Corporal Seagrove’s
Letters to his wife Marjorie.
1942-1944
[Compiled and edited by Paul and Jane Munro. Copyright P R and J E Munro as
Executors for the Estate of the late M E Seagrove]
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Driver/Pte./Lance Corporal Seagrove’s Letters to his wife Marjorie. ........................... 1
Introduction. ................................................................................................................... 4
1942................................................................................................................................ 8
Bivouacking, training around Sydney: Wallgrove, French’s Forest, Narellan. ......... 8
December 1942 – June 1943 .................................................................................... 20
Brisbane, Ravenshoe, Townsville. ........................................................................... 20
January 1943 ................................................................................................................ 38
February 1943. ............................................................................................................. 61
Duty Ambulance around Ravenshoe and Innisfail. ................................................. 61
March 1943 .................................................................................................................. 80
In the Atherton range ............................................................................................... 80
April 1943 .................................................................................................................... 98
Ravenshoe to Townsville and first real censorship.................................................. 98
May 1943 ................................................................................................................... 117
Townsville marking time for embarkation. ........................................................... 117
June 1943 ................................................................................................................... 141
Embarkation for and arrival New Guinea .................................................................. 141
July 1943. ................................................................................................................... 165
On the Rigo Road 12 miles from Port Moresby ........................................................ 165
August 1943. .............................................................................................................. 188
Activities around Rigo and Rouna MDS ................................................................... 188
September 1943. ........................................................................................................ 206
Rouna to Bulldog. ...................................................................................................... 206
October 1943. ............................................................................................................. 224
Bulldog: jungle base, supporting the line. ................................................................. 224
November 1943. ......................................................................................................... 244
Bulldog; rain, kuku-kukus and fuzzie-wuzzie angels with names. ............................ 244
December 1943. ......................................................................................................... 262
Bulldog: Christmas, snakes and jungle juice. ............................................................ 262
January 1944. ............................................................................................................. 280
Bulldog: promotion to Lance-Corporal, surgery, gifts to Yule Islanders, leave and
censorship pains. ........................................................................................................ 280
February 1944. ........................................................................................................... 297
Bulldog: Kurua goes, cricket on the strip, dermatatitis, first move to Wau. ......... 297
March 1944. ............................................................................................................... 312
Wau: Bulolo track roadwork, George’s dermatitis, Pross’s dengue fever, cricket
distractions, rings and ear-rings.. ........................................................................... 312
April 1944 .................................................................................................................. 329
Wau- Bulolo Valley: Hospitalised for dermatitis, Bridge, cricket, soccer, Boivari’s
return . .................................................................................................................... 329
May 1944 ................................................................................................................... 344
Wau: Discharge from hospital to RAP orderly, “poe-juggling and counting down the
days. ........................................................................................................................... 344
June 1944. .................................................................................................................. 361
Wau: RAP Ward orderly, Kim Patterson pow, rats and diversions. ...................... 361
July 1944. ................................................................................................................... 380
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Wau: Awaiting replacement unit, coded signal for embarkation, butterfly hunting
and 9th FA football domination. ............................................................................ 380
August 1944. .............................................................................................................. 396
Wau: Playing football, relay running, picannini courage, Referendum on post war
reconstruction, trip to the Coast, Brunswick Jack.................................................. 396
September 1944. ........................................................................................................ 410
Wau to Lae and away: relief and the dusty road. ................................................... 410
Appendix of Names of Members of 9th Field Ambulance. ........................................ 421
Names mentioned anecdotally: .................................................................................. 421
Officers identified as Censors: ................................................................................... 421
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Introduction.
These volumes are comprised of 375 letters written by Lance Corporal George Evelyn
Coulon Seagrove to his wife Marjorie between January 1942 and September 1944.
The addressee of the correspondence, George’s 24-year-old wife of three years, was
at her mother’s home in 27 Collingwood Street, Drummoyne, Sydney. She had
moved there from the matrimonial domicile address originally given for her at
“Nortoft Flats” also in Drummoyne. The letters were kept by Marjorie. They are an
almost intact record of a loving correspondence from a serving member of the AIF.
Throughout the correspondence George was enlisted, eventually given regimental
number NX142225 in the AIF 9th Field Ambulance. He and his brother Cecil signed
up at Millers Point in Sydney for Australian Military Forces service probably around
November 1941; a third and younger brother, Prosper, (Pross), signed up around the
same time. In civilian life, George was an advertising executive with the leading
Sydney agency, George Patterson and Co., sometime also known as Catts-Patterson.
His enlistment followed earlier CMF styled military service with the 30th Infantry
Battalion, the Sydney University Regiment, and the Volunteer Coastal Patrol
Signalling Section.
It appears from the AMF records that George was formally enlisted on 15 January
1942; “taken on strength “ 10 March 1942 in a “militia” unit then and later known as
9th Australian Field Ambulance; that unit, with George, was transferred to the AIF on
5
15 November 1942; entrained to Queensland on 7 December 1942.
After several
false starts from Brisbane and later Townsville George and Pross were deployed to
AIF army hospital construction and related work around Innisfail in the Atherton
Tablelands area. He and Pross embarked on HMAT Duntroon for Port Moresby
Papua from Townsville on 16 June 1943.
George was posted for a time to a facility some 12 miles outside of Port Moresby, on
the Rigo Road; from around 22 September 1943 he volunteered with a section of the
unit to be deployed to Bulldog near the source of the Lakekamu River in Papua; and
on 23 February 1944, George and later Pross moved with the unit to an HQ post for it
near Wau in the Bulolo Valley of New Guinea. His unit was recalled to Australia in
September 1944 embarking for Brisbane from Lae, New Guinea on 18 September
1944 aboard the Duntroon.
The early letters are written against the background news events of the attack on Pearl
Harbour, (7 December 1941), the fall of Rabaul (23 January 1942), the fall of
Singapore (15 February 1942). Australian forces took back Kokoda from Japanese
forces on 2 November, 1942, and in December 1942 Buna and Gona fell to the Allied
forces. Lae, at the head of the Markham Valley, 90 miles overland from Wau, did not
fall to the Allied forces until 16 September 1943; the adjacent Huon Peninsula
campaign continued throughout 1943 into early 1944.
George returned to Sydney in about October 1944; when she first saw him again
Marjorie was shocked to see that he weighed around 10 stone, a loss of more than 2
stone from his pre-war level, as described in a July 1943 letter, at which time he was
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11 stone. After 3 months in the Concord AGH Hospital, George was discharged as
unfit for further military service on 22 March 1945.
The letters were kept by Marjorie and George in the matrimonial home they built in
1954, and in their later residences, until his death in 2004 at age 96; then by Marjorie
until her death at age 93 in 2011. She had more or less reluctantly approved her
Executor reviewing their content after her death and exercising discretion as to final
disposal of them. They now afford a primary source through which are reflected
aspects of the lives, values and character of the correspondent and those within his
social setting.
The letters are arranged in chronological order, by year as best can be ascertained,
starting from the earliest decipherable day of each year. Some ambiguous dates have
been clarified or resolved by internal references to Marjorie’s numbered letters, which
do not survive, or to events described.
Some letters from locations in Australia were sent outside military censorship; most
were sent through military channels; and a couple were delivered by safe hand from
PNG to avoid censorship. As far as practicable such privately posted or channelled
letters are identified. Transcription of the letters involved them being read on Dragon
Dictate for Mac followed by correction of the resultant Word for Mac version of the
resultant transcript. The Editor’s aim was to produce as near as practicable exact
verisimilitude retaining apparent mis-spelling or other errors; occasionally
punctuation is supplied or omitted and where a word is indecipherable a guess at the
meaning is sometimes inserted in italics; despite several readings, a few errors of
transcription from the original longhand will not have been picked up. Editor’s
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notations have been supplied intermittently to identify people mentioned, to add a
historical context, or clarify a location or movement.
It seemed there might be some historical value in identification of paper types, so this
has been attempted. Likewise an attempt is made to supply the identity and location of
censoring officers or other members of the unit referred to anecdotally: these details
are included where it has been possible to establish them from several sources
consulted. Apart from web-search, the most useful were Likeman : Men of the
Ninth1; and Raxworthy : Soldiering on in Papua New Guinea. 9th Australian Field
Ambulance ( A.I.F.) 1939-45 . An oral History.2
No letters have been omitted. Paul Munro, George and Marjorie Seagrove’s son-inlaw and Executor of their Estates after her death, undertook the preparation and
publishing of the letters in this form. In the process of compilation, editorial notation
and publishing of the letters, Jane Munro, George and Marjorie’s only child, was
accorded sole authority to veto or approve all significant decisions. One of those
decisions was to offer the complete set of the original letters as a gift to the
Australian War Memorial collection and archive; it has graciously accepted the letters
and this transcription of them .
***
8
1942
Bivouacking, training around Sydney: Wallgrove, French’s Forest, Narellan.
21 March 1942. On lined writing pad paper, in pencil, without indication of rank or
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name and with the segment usually used to show originating location torn off. [This is
the first of the letters retained by Marjorie. It is written from “ Camp” but no firm
details of exact location are apparent; from Likeman at 78- 79 it seems the camp
must have been at Wallgrove, near Sydney. It is apparent from the content that
George has been returning from camp on leave at regular intervals. Prior to
movement to that camp, he was probably located at French’s Forest where an ADS,
(Advanced Dressing Station) was established for the 9th Infantry Division in training.]
Marjorie Dear, Tonight I'm all on my lonesome so I thought I'd take the opportunity
to write you a little scribble. It's very awkward propping myself up on one arm and
trying to see the lines by the light of the hurricane lamp so please forgive the scrawl.
Cec3 and Pross4 are on leave today and I suppose you've seen them and know that I'm
feeling very well. Our two mates, Sefton Daley and Frank Starr5 are on picquet
tonight unfortunately, which means that I'm left to hold the fort until tomorrow
afternoon. At present it is raining steadily and I think I can hear a few drips on the
other side of the tent. The ropes outside have shrunk and are as tight as blazes. If any
sort of a breeze comes up I'm afraid the pegs will pull up and the whole works will
come down on me. However as they say in the army "I couldn't care less". This rain
should do a lot of good as it seems to be falling on the catchment area. I seldom see a
newspaper so I don't know for sure. By the way how are the sweet peas? I hope those
blasted little sparrows haven't picked them all off.
I told Pross to tell you that I would ring home on Sunday night before 8 PM if
possible so perhaps I will have spoken to you before this arrives. Bad news, darling.
All leave has been cancelled from tomorrow. I was hoping that I would be able to get
home on Monday night for two days to give you a hand with the moving and packing
but it looks like our luck is out again. Never mind there is always a bright side to
every cloud and our turn may not be far away.
I feel terrible not being able to help you to fix every thing up with the insurance
people and others but I know you can do it as well as anyone. After all your worries
are over you go into town and buy yourself a good winter coat and frock. That's an
order from your husband and I'll be very annoyed if you don't.
"Lights out" has just sounded somewhere in the distance so I suppose it's time I turned
in sweetheart. Now don't you worry so much and remember to keep the old chin up. I
will probably see you one day next week – I HOPE-and hear all the good news. God
bless, you darling.
With all my love, George.
PS. Sunday evening.
I still haven’t sealed the envelope( borrowed of course). Today has been a marvellous
one except that we had a dirty job this afternoon cleaning under the ambulance.
Church parade this morning in service dress for the first time. I'll have to get a tailor
onto the alterations as soon as possible. Sleeves are a mile long, neck uncomfortable
etc. Anyhow I couldn't care less. About to go down to ring now. George.
***
23 April 1942 On lined writing pad paper, in pencil, without indication of rank or
name; address heading " Camp", probably still Wallgrove.
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Dearest Marjorie, Once again I'm trying to scribble you a note “ ‘neath the pale
yellow hurricane lamp” propped up on my left elbow. I hope you are not suffering
with that nasty old tooth darling. I really think you should go to the dentist again and
let him have a look at it in case it's like the other one you poor little dear.
Do you still love me as much you as you used to? I think my love grows greater every
day I'm away from you. I think that we’ve got over the sweetheart stage now, don’t
you? Our lives are developing and we are now sharing the experience of years.
Lovers in the true sense of the word. Two hearts blended into perfect harmony. I pray
at night that God will keep you safe and out of all danger and that in his own time He
will bring us together again to carry out our job as planned. I’m beginning to think
that all this must be for a purpose. Perhaps, everybody’s been so wrong that we’ve
got to be taught what is right again. A fresh start in life may well be the best thing that
could happen to us.
Well darling, I did not mean to start to get so deep but you know how I get
sometimes. I just want really to remind you that wherever I am, whatever I am doing,
I’m always thinking of you and I LOVE YOU in great big capital letters. Its funny but
I always seem too shy to tell you that, don’t I? You know its true though don’t you
sweetheart, and nothing will ever change that love, will it, my precious little wife.
Doesn’t that sound sloppy but you get the idea I hope. So until next Sunday, I’ll say
goodbye darling. Ever your loving husband, Me.
I wrote Mitch6 seven pages last night. Good , wasn’t I?
***
5 May 1942. On Salvation Army Red Shield Huts-Hostels writing pad letterhead, with
notation: “ Any reference to shipping or troop movements will result in the delay or
mutilation of this letter”. The letter is written in faded pencil, with original intake
number, N181199 showing name and unit but containing no sign of censorship. This
letter was among the letters most treasured by Marjorie. It was kept separately from
others in the collection. Around the date of this letter, US forces on Corregidor had
just surrendered to the Japanese, who were in the preparatory stages of a reinforced
assault on Port Moresby].
Dearest Marjorie, Isn't it strange how for some unaccountable reason, one suddenly
thinks of something that happened years and years ago. Do you remember that day we
went up to La Perouse and took the motorboat ferry across to Kurnell to have a look
at the place where Captain Cook landed. We walked along the road towards the sand
hills at Cronulla. There was a shop and a lady was kind to you. Then we went back
and around by the rocks and we sat on the grass, long and willowy it was. I told you
then how much I loved you for the first time, I think. Do you remember what I gave
you and how I said I would love you and love you forever. I wonder if you really
believed me then. You must have. You didn't say much did you? But you were
always so quiet and shy and always so very very sincere. (I felt that I had known for
years the first time I kissed you, darling. I suppose it was because you were so sincere
and open.)
With a nature like yours words are not necessary. Then we wandered back along the
docks and over the bay in the stinky old boat and I thought you looked a little seasick
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but said "Nope". And you still say I was wrong. Or was all that one of my wild
dreams.
I've got to thank the Harbour Bridge for another lovely memory too. Those
photographs that you hated so much I do wish you hadn't destroyed them. They were
a record of a lovely day. I remember clearly how you looked that day and although I
didn't like the striped blazer you wore, I thought you were the loveliest thing in the
world. 'member our inspection of HMAS Australia and the nice guy who showed us
the doings.
Bang! There goes lights out, which stops my reminiscing. Silly to be writing such
stuff aren’t I but still a bloke like me must have his thoughts. So until I see you again
I'll say ‘bye ‘bye sweetheart and look after yourself. Ever your loving husband, Me.
PS. How's your mouth darling. I didn't ask before because I'm going to ring you
tonight. Hope it's not paining you. Love, George.
***
26 June 1942 . On lined writing pad paper, in pencil, without indication of rank or
name, no location specified. The unit had been in camp at Wallgrove, (now Eastern
Creek), near Sydney, then on bivouac at Frenchs Forest to the north of Sydney, after
the shelling of Sydney and submarine attack in May 1942, at which time ,it seems, the
unit was involved in a defensive deployment on the outskirts of Sydney. In August
1942, the unit moved to Narellan, to the southwest of Sydney near Camden.
Complying with censorship requirements, George generally avoids giving specific
indicators as to his whereabouts.
Dearest Marjorie, I am trying to scribble these few lines while there are no brass
hats around – just to tell you I'm all right. I can't tell you where I am or what is going
on but the main thing is there's nothing for you to worry about.
Sorry I couldn't ring you the other night as arranged dear, but everyone was rushing
around and I didn't get a chance to sneak out. I thought about you waiting down at
home for the telephone to ring but there was nothing I could do about it.
I was with Pross and Frank yesterday and I saw Cec yesterday morning so you can
tell Mother they are both well. This life is quite a change from camp and provided this
beautiful sunshine lasts the trip should be a good one. The chief growl from the boys
is the starvation diet – still we have been able to supplement army ration with pies and
chocolates from stores we passed. Last night was pretty cold – especially for those
living under the stars. However ambulance drivers always have good billets and
plenty of blankets so I had a very good night’s rest. My mate talked in his sleep- it
seemed all night. He's like the babbling brook that goes on and on. I know his whole
history now I think. He’s not a bad sort of a bloke in many ways though and he’d give
you anything he had, so I've really nothing to moan about.
I've just been interrupted to go on piquet7 – and here I am. It's a lovely spot in gum
trees and scrub and the sun is overhead drying everything up. The only sounds are
birds whistling and shouts from the kitchen as the tigers are being fed. It's hard to
realise why anyone wants war to destroy such lovely peace.
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How are you darling? I hope you haven't been worrying too much because there's
nothing we can do to alter things except make the best of it. Keep the old chin dear
old gal. I'll see you about this time next week I hope, so for now I'll say goodbye.
Ever your loving husband George. PS. The Balaclava is a big success and very much
appreciated driving around these cold nights. My love to all and tell Norma I'll give
her a big kiss for helping to knit the balaclava.
Saturday: Dearest Marjorie, This is my fourth day without a wash and I think I'll
jump into the first river or waterhole we come to. We are each allowed one cup full of
water per meal and that is to be used for shaving washing and drinking if you like
drinking that sort of beverage. Its worse than the Sahara Desert and by crikey, I'll be
giving that bath a caning when I get home.. I think that will be sometime around the
end of next week.
Of course there isn’t a telephone anywhere near here and if there were I am afraid it
would be impossible for me to ring home as contact with the outside world is strictly
censorable.
The weather has been beautiful up to now but there are a few clouds hanging about
and it may rain. Still, this old ambulance is a good shelter in fair and foul weather so
we’ve got nothing to worry about.
Last night I nearly scratched myself to pieces and I had a few strange looking spots on
my body and legs when I got up this morning. I went on sick parade and let the M.O.
have a look at them. He gave them the professional name and said “ commonly
known as hives”. Told me that I must have eaten something which upset the blood.
The only thing different that I had eaten was a huge navel orange kindly donated by a
good-hearted farmer who lives nearby. Doc said it may have been something that had
been sprayed on the oranges that caused the trouble. Anyhow, I got a free dose of
Cascara and some calamine lotion and I hope that fixes it. Another guy in the unit is
being evacuated back to the M.D.S for some complaint only his is much worse
necessitating a squirt of adrenaline in his arm to stop the itching.
Apart from that everyone is enjoying the best of health. Cecil is a couple of feet away
on the stretcher. He came in with his section yesterday and for the time being, Colin
Bell8 and I are attached to Cec’s company. Pross and Frank are with HQ somewhere
around and we haven’t seen them for a few days.
Sunday: Well dear old gal, here I am again another day has passed and I have not
finished this letter. As a matter of fact I can’t buy a stamp or an envelope from anyone
in camp. Hope to get up today and find a store or post office.
It seems weeks since I last saw you and I suppose you too are anxious to hear from
me. Col and I were out till 2 am last night evacuating the sick to the MDS. It rained
like blazes and I was glad we had a dry place to sleep in. Most of the boys had built
little cubby houses as shelter and some of them sneaked up on the verandahs of
houses close by to keep dry. We were on the move again at 6.30am and it looks as if
we won’t stay here for long.
Captain Cummins is in the offing darling so I’d better scoot. Give my love to all and
tell them we’re all well, a great big kiss for you, sweetheart. Ever your loving
George. P.S. it won’t be long now, so keep up the old pecker. G.
***
13
29 August 1942. On quarto block double sided lined writing pad paper,: in pencil:
headed Bulubakanka but with no other identifying details.
Dearest Marjorie, Sorry haven't been able to write before but you know how things
are on these stunts. I've just been under the truck with a bit of grease so by the time
this letter is completed it should look like a dirty little schoolboy's copybook. Anyhow
it will tell you that we are all very well and having as good a time as could be
expected. There is a little more water available than on the track we did previously
14
and I was able to have a good solution in a creek yesterday. Just the same I could
quite easily give up an hour or so to a good hot bath.
How is everybody? And you? I do hope you haven't been too lonely. You tell Norma
that she's got to give up a bit more of her time and keep you company while I'm away
or else??? News has just come through that this business may be prolonged for two
more weeks but arrangements will be made about leave. We are given to understand
that the leave days we missed will be made up. Which means that probably I'll be
home for a couple of days next week. Won't that be ducky? Then think up something
for us to do and take advantage of the time we have together.
We been pretty lucky so far with the weather. Plenty of fresh air and sunshine with
the wind to make it a bit unpleasant. A few drops of rain last night woke me but I just
pulled the blankets up a little higher and rolled over and went to sleep again.
I saw the "Herald" yesterday and I believe there's a war on. Bad luck about the Duke
of Kent (pass the salt!) Pity it wasn't Hitler or Musso or Tojo, isn't it? (The Duke of
Kent, fifth in line of succession to the Throne, was reported on 27 August 1942 killed
in a flying-boat crash, on active duty.)
Mess parade has just been called so I'll finish off this page. I couldn't bear to miss the
banquet.
13. 40: Well darling, that's that. Hunks of meat, squashing blobs of cabbage, peas and
dried apricots and watery custard. Which is considered a good army meal. My mate
and I are going to have grilled sausages for tea tonight. We were paid yesterday and
I've already spent 10 shillings including the cost of a few beers and a bottle of
"Bombo" which we consumed after a long route march last night. For tea yesterday
we had sausages, eggs and steak cooked to my liking so you see we are feeding our
faces pretty well aren’t we?
I had to break off there to go on parade for instructions about our next move which is
in about an hour’s time. I'm very anxious to finish this letter so that I can post it enroute if the opportunity presents itself. Hope it doesn't sound too disjointed but I know
you'll understand. The lads are getting pretty good at a quick getaway. In less than six
minutes all the trucks have to be loaded and ready to move. That means all hospital
tents have to be taken down, the kitchen gear loaded whether there is a meal cooking
or not. Patients have to be put into ambulances, in fact it's like a little mobile town
moving from place to place. Everything must be left in its natural state as far as
possible and I think this time can be improved upon.
There's very little for me to write about sweetheart so I'll close now. You know how
much I love you but I'll tell you more about it when I get home. In the meantime don't
worry about me. I'm having a good healthy trip. Tell me mother the boys are extra
well and Cecil is not doing any marching but a fair amount of half grumbling. Cheerio
my darling little wifey and lots of kisses. Ever your loving husband, Me
P.S. Give my love to all and tell your mother to be sure to get something extra extra
special for me when I come home on leave.
***
15
24 September 1942. On lined writing pad paper, in pencil, without indication of rank
or name; no address heading.
Dearest Marjorie, Colin and I are basking in the sunshine with our backs
comfortable resting in plough furrows that have long since been overgrown with
lovely green grass. Sounds alright for what is supposed to be a strenuous exercise,
doesn't it? Actually we haven't come into the picture yet so we're taking advantage of
all the rest we can get. Just like good soldiers should. I can't tell you where we are or
anything about what we're doing so I’ll swing right over onto another track.
An extra special newsflash! The old Col is going to get wedded, wotcha know about
that? The bells will chime out around mid-November I understand. Col asked me
what I thought about married life and I told him I wouldn't be single again for
anything in the world except six blondes and £1,000 a year tax-free. I just dozed off to
sleep then and old "Ding Dong" woke me up with a remark something about "This is
the best bloody war I've ever been in."
Yesterday was a very windy day. The dust was flying around in great clouds and all
the tents were billowing out like sails in those 16 footers on the river. Everything was
smothered and you know how lovely food tastes with plenty of grit in it. The ants and
blowflies are having a wonderful time today, they are such friendly little fellows, so
tame. They come and sit on the edge of your plate and eat food out of your hand. The
blowflies are particularly pleased. They buzz around merrily all the time ,when you
wave them goodbye they make a nosedive at whatever you are eating, tear off a bit
and then sit a few yards away licking their chops or something. Poor little things, I
nearly always say "here, take the lot. I’ll eat bread and jam and get something at the
store". I can't help being so good-natured.
Well darling, how are you? It seems weeks since I saw you. I suppose you were
wondering how this old crock is to0, not too bad old girl, not too bad. Just a few aches
and pains but otherwise A1. I have my little bottle of liniment with me and the supply
of Aspros which give me great relief. If I can get a good rub down and a few hours in
the sun without a shirt I think this complaint would clear up. It's much better than it
was – or maybe I’m getting used to the darn thing. Don't worry I won't need crutches
for a few years yet I'm sure.
I can hear a lot of motorbikes and engines over on the road so something must be
going to start. Better finish here as we might get a trip near post office, dear. I’ll
probably see you Sunday or Monday night, sweetheart. Until then cheerio and don't
get thinking in bed too much. It only makes the time seemed much longer. All my
love darling, ever your loving husband, Me.
PS Col Bell sends his kind regards – says he is blissfully happy. PPS. Give my love to
all. Tell mother the boys are well. Haven't seen them today but would know if
anything was wrong. G.
***
14 October 1942. On lined writing pad paper, in pencil, without indication of rank or
name; no address heading.
My darling wife, It's past 7 o'clock and I'm thinking about what we were doing this
time exactly 3 years ago. Remember? We were in the pavilion on Austinmer Beach
enjoying a dish of tea and very happy. I wonder if they knew we were honeymooners.
When this war is over we're going to have our second honeymoon, aren't we
16
sweetheart? And we’ll make it a bigger and better one. Then we can build a little
shack and plant a little hedge and in a year or two maybe there'll be something "a
running around the house for baby and me". Dreams do come true, you know darling,
– if they’re given a chance and you work and pray that they may. Let's hope our’s do.
I haven’t much to say now accept that I love you more than anything else in life and
I’ll be that way always. Sometimes I get the "blues" and I can't tell you how I feel but
I've only got to be away from you about five minutes and I remember all the lovely
things you are. That's true!
When I'm walking along the street and thinking about you, or in a train or doing a
picquet at night I try to imagine what you are doing and wonder whether you are
sleeping or reading or listening to Dr Mac or something else on the radio.
I love to think about the things that are yours, you know sweetheart the sort of things
Rupert Brooke loved so much. The softness of silk and the sweetness of little bits of
lace and the light reflecting on satin. A thousand things jump into my mind and I love
them all.Gosh I'm getting sentimental aren’t I but there you are.
Better finish now Darling as I have to go on parade. Got a good picquet, 8 to 10, so
won't lose any sleep. Hope to see you tomorrow night my darling little sweetheart.
Ever your loving, Me.
PS Excuse pencil and writing it's practically dark.
***
12 November 1942. The following two letters bear the same date: It would appear
that the first transcribed was posted “in town” by Colin Bell. It is in pencil on a lined
quarto writing pad with no address or identifying detail. The other letter of the same
date is on YMCA unlined notepaper in ink with the notation “Use military address
only.”, as reproduced immediately below. It is also the first instance of George
Seagrove inserting his formal address:” From Pte G E Seagrove, N181199. 9th Field
Ambulance”: The letter appears to have been sent through military channels and
bears the signature also of a Censor, albeit not that of a person identifiable as a
member of the unit. It is in this week that George was formally transferred to the AIF
and given the regimental number NX142225, although not so advised until late
January 1943.
Marjorie dear, I don't think that I'll be able to ring you tonight as Colin is going on
leave and of course I'll have to stay on duty. I'll give him this note to post in town so
that you will receive it tomorrow and know this old anatomical structure is still above
ground and still enjoying the quietness of the countryside at the same place.
17
Cecil and Pross may be coming down tonight too and of course there are the usual
"furfies" rampant in view of the extended leave. But don't you worry, the power’s not
on yet and I refuse to be moved by any silly rumours. I should be catching the 5.20
for some time to come.
I arrived back the other night quite unobtrusively and wormed my way between the
blankets without disturbing my co-pilot who was well in the embrace of Morpheus.
Packed in like tinned sardines for the first part of journey but on the second lap there
was plenty of room and I was able to snatch a good sleep to be rudely awakened at
my destination by a mad scramble for positions for the third stage. En route I had the
sustenance you supplied and nearly made myself sick with the sugar cinnamon
concoction. Now, whenever there’s a shortage of sugar in the cooking I think of
Sunday and I am satisfied.
I saw Cecil this morning and he gave me the "lowdown” on things in general. I
believe he ran into a bit of trouble last night, bogging up to the axle three or four
times and pleasing the powers that be by shouting out gleefully "Jack Davey rides
again" and holding up the convoy.
I'm already floundering about trying to get a bit of news and now I've started another
page which must be filled in. Oh yes, I didn't tell you about the weather did I darling?
Today, like yesterday, is a real midsummer day. Scarcely a cloud in the sky and
everything pretty steaming after the rain. The grass is already turning a brownish
shade and the flies are here in millions. Not only flies but locusts and bugs of all sorts.
Last night the Salvation Army man brought in his Tilley lamp and we had a game of
"checkers". In about 10 minutes I think we had all the moths, flying ants and wogs for
miles around with us. The table under the lamp was strewn with wriggling bodies half
incinerated by the heat of the lamp. Still, I'm really not grumbling. This is not a bad
spot and it looks as though we're here for the rest of our sojourn in this part of the
world. Out of the back of old Bess I'm looking onto a high green sward that once was
a country golf course. There is the place where mushrooms grew in profusion, only
you now have to walk miles to get them. Remember, dear, there are others who relish
such toothsome viands. I'm sure that if it rains before next Sunday my pack will
contain a few of same however. And that Darling leaves me with enough paper to say
cheerio.
Next Sunday, I’ll be with you for four glorious days I think. Won’t that be ducky.
You can plan what we’ll do and we’ll make sure of a happy time. Just in case you
don't know sweetheart, you're the loveliest thing in my life and you always will be.
That's why say I am, ever your loving, Me.
***
12 November 1942. [See notation for other letter of same date].
Dear Marjorie, I suppose by this time Cecil has paid his usual visit and given you a
confidential (?) report of the doings. I hope you're not worrying too much because I'm
sure there's no need to. I happen to be one of the unlucky ones who had to stay behind
and keep things going. Actually my name was down for the slot of leave but as old
"Ding Dong" wanted to get some pre-wedding shopping done, I let him go – he
couldn't get out of the place quick enough. And I don't blame him.
18
In my last note to you said that I would see you on Sunday –well that may not be
possible for obvious reasons. I'll ring home as soon as possible and let them know
what's doing, so they'll tell you. Or perhaps you'll see me when I walk in the door.
Sorry I couldn't make it for the weekend but maybe I'll get this week's rest day tacked
on. That's what I'm hoping anyway. I'm still out at the same post watching the trains
go by. The other boys weren’t too keen on the job when leave was announced and
those who missed out preferred to stay in camp as the job up there usually gets them
into town at least every second day.
The weather up here has been very summery and there are plenty of flies and all
manner of things that fly. At night millions of moths flutter around the lamps but
strangely enough very few "Mozzies" – thank goodness. I usually have a look around
the truck before hopping into bed and exterminate the blighters before they can start
tearing into me. Sometimes a few strays come during the night and I have to duck
under the blanket for a while
Met a cove here who knows Julie9 and Pop – Bailley, his name is. I've never seen him
before but he seems to know the family. He belongs to the Balmain meeting I think,
so I suppose Judy will know him. Also there are a couple of others who come from
Gladesville and Five Dock- funny how you strike fellas who have travelled in the
same trams and buses with you for years and get to know them when the army brings
you together.
I'm afraid I'm going to be out of luck for those mushrooms I promised as doesn't look
as if it will rain for another six or seven years. Never mind, I’ll bring you an ice cream
instead, that's if you take me out on that picnic we spoke about a few weeks ago. We
could take our bathers and a basket of lunch and find a nice and shady beach
somewhere along the coast and put in a good day surfing, don't you think? Will have
to try a bit of fishing too. Bad luck we can't use the car isn't it?
Darling, I'll finish here before the paper runs out and I have no news to start a fresh
page. Give my love to all, ever your loving, Me. PS Excuse the awful writing but I'm
writing in the front of the ambulance and the rest is not too good and the nib doesn't
suit me. Love, George.
***
19 November 1942
On lined writing pad paper, in ink, with no identifying address or other details. It
seems from Likeman at 80 that this letter must have originated from the camp At
Narellan.
My darling Wife, Just in case I can't see you next Monday I'll take this opportunity
to wish you a very happy birthday, sweetheart. I’ll do all in my power to get down,
but in any case, I'm sure, I'll be able to give you a call on the phone from somewhere,
so please be near the phone around about seven and eight-ish.
I'm so sorry that this time I haven't been able to buy you a present but you know,
coupons and time make things very difficult, don't they? I'm sure you won't mind in
these circumstances, Darling, will you please go into Farmer's or David Jones or some
other place and get yourself a new frock or fur coat with what is enclosed. Don't buy
19
too many furs though. If this doesn't cover the cost you have got to promise to let me
know what the difference is and make it up next time. Please don't think me awful for
not spending a little time to choose a gift -- as a matter of fact I did and then decided
it would be better for you to make the selection. Have a happy birthday, dear, and
remember I’ll be thinking of you.
With all my love, George.
***
30 November 1942. On lined writing pad paper, in pencil with no return address or
other identifying details.” Started 30 November” but with additions on Wednesday
and a PS dated Dec 3, this is the last of the letters originating from NSW prior to the
unit being entrained to Queensland, initially Brisbane, later to Rockhampton on 7
December 1942. Likeman (@ 80-81) states the unit was scrambled on 5 December
1942 for movement to Goodenough Island in New Guinea.
Dearest Marjorie, I thought I ought to just write and tell you about the sultanas.
When I got back last night I was feeling a little bit peckish so I took a big handful of
sultanas out and, boy, were they delicious! So I says to meself "I'll finish them off
before breakfast tomorrow morning". This morning I poured out another handful and
was about to stuff them into my mouth when a couple of little white wigglers popped
up their heads as if to say "Hey look out for us, son". After I had sorted out the white
ones from the brown ones – oh boy were they delicious! But they tasted just the same
as the mixture I had last night. Do I make myself clear.
The apples were lovely, darling. I don't know why you spend all your money on me. I
must be the best fed husband around the place and certainly the best looked after one.
The old Ding Dong arrived back at the same time as I did and of course he was full of
ecstasy. He says married life will do. How long has he been spliced – exactly 10 days
four hours 26 minutes. Still I think he's got the right idea, don't you think?
We're back with the boys again and it looks like a pretty busy week. I haven't been
here long enough to judge but this place seems to have a lot of advantages that
somewhat offset the disadvantages. Perhaps it's the rain and cool weather that makes
me think the spot has a lot to recommend it from a health viewpoint. The country is
undulating and the hills well covered with long grass. Round about the grass has worn
thin and it's rather dusty but generally speaking the country is excellent grazing land –
at the moment anyway. Vegetation is fairly sparse though some of the gum trees are
excellent specimens and good subjects for a landscape artist. Crikey doesn't this letter
sound like a discourse on economic geography. I'll be telling you all about soil
erosion and geological formations if I don't get off this side-track.
(Here I was interrupted by a little horse-play in the tent and decided not to continue. I
have spoken to you on the phone in the meantime and told you most of the news, if
any)
Wednesday. The mobile picture unit was up here last night. After we had won prizes
of chocolates and cigarettes in a quiz half-hour, they showed us shorts and a fulllength feature "Dulcy" with Ann Southern. I remember the show was on at one of the
Drummoyne theatres but I don't know if you saw it. If you didn't I'm sorry because
I'm sure you would have enjoyed it. Dulcy is very much like Dulcie10 – not in looks
but –for instance Boy Friend has invented a revolutionary airplane engine which can
20
be operated with kerosene. He shows the model to Dulcy who is not very impressed
until he starts it and she sees the propeller spinning; then she screamed with delight
"Gordon, you're a genius! It works!" Her brother wants her to go with him to the
wharf to meet his prospective father-in-law and mother in law. Of course she'll go but
first she must go down to the parole board to sign papers for the release of a prisoner
whom she wishes to employ as Butler. Brother gets very exasperated and tells Dulcie
the number of the wharf – "Write it down or you'll forget it" he says, "Number 47".
"Of course I won't forget it" says Dulcy "Why 47 is my lucky number". After she has
collected her burglar Butler, she steps into a limousine then tells her driver to take her
to wharf 74 "Your brother said 47" says the driver.
"Oh no" replies Dulcy, "I remember because 74 is my lucky number".
"But you said 47 is your lucky number Madam"
" Oh that's nothing. You see I have millions of lucky numbers. Take me to 74."
Dulcy is really a very lovable character who is always trying to do someone a good
turn but whose plans go haywire and end in disaster. Roland Young is at the top of his
form in the nervy prospective father-in-law role.
I must close now, dear, as it is getting near lights out time. Tell mother Pross and
Cecil are both well. Cec is out on a two day's trek in his truck but we’ll all be home as
Saturday Night – we hope to learn sweetheart, goodbye ever your loving, Me.
P.S. December 3: duty ambulance at Showground today but will not have
opportunity to call, love, George.
***
December 1942 – June 1943
Brisbane, Ravenshoe, Townsville.
8 December 1942. Written in faded pencil on lined and standard sized writing pad
without address or identifying details. This letter was stored separately by Marjorie
and preserved independently of the other letters in the collection, in a small folder
entitled “ Letters from my Sweetheart George”.
[This letter would have been written on the train on which the 9th Field Ambulance “
entrained to Queensland” on 7 December 1942. In the Pacific War the battle for
Guadalcanal was underway, and in NG the battle for Buna was being fought by
Australian troops. The 9th Field Ambulance and its members, including George and
Pross, had been transferred from militia unit status to the AIF; Cec Seagrove had
been excluded on health grounds. Members of the unit expected that they might soon
be moved to combat areas.]
Dearest Marjorie, I know how you are feeling at this moment and I'm feeling exactly
the same. But I want to promise me to try to overcome that feeling and remember that
every minute, every second is bringing us closer. If you can feel that we are together
in spirit although separated by miles of space I'm sure it will help and you won't be so
lonely. No matter what I'm doing, you're always with me and I get great comfort from
that thought. God in his goodness will bring us back to happy days in his own way
and time. I'll pray all the time for his blessing on us and ask that your burden be
lightened and anxiety be brushed away. There's a silver lining to every dark cloud and
perhaps it won't be long before the sun is shining. Oh darling can you imagine the joy
21
of our meeting, so please be patient everything will work out right. The ones that are
left behind are the greatest sufferers, I know but I'm happy in the thought my own
loved ones are of the breed that can take it – especially my own sweetheart wife.
My heart nearly broke yesterday when I said goodbye to dear old Cec11. I know the
dear old boy felt the parting worse than a knife thrust – so did everyone. He dashed
around collecting toothbrushes, sewing gear, tobacco and other odds and ends for us,
rang home and made it possible for me to speak to you. He told me he had been
preparing you for the shock for months and even though he hurt you at times he felt it
would be easier for you in the end. He was wrong but I know he did it only out of
goodness of heart. Poor old Cec, we took a long time to start and he had to make a
few trips to the washhouse to wipe away the tears.
I couldn't bring myself together to give him a message for you or anyone. I know I
couldn't have said goodbye to you, I'm so softhearted but I know you would
understand darling. You used asked me how much I loved you, didn't you, and I
would never tell you. Do you know why? Well it's because no words of mine could
express it. All the pet phrazes in the world wouldn't cover it. My love for you seems
to be a feeling in the left side of my chest, but that's not all because I want to feel you
in my arms and watch you with my eyes and hear your voice. I like to churn over in
my mind your commonsense reasoning. I realise more and more how much I depend
on you. I don't know if that's love but that's how it is.
And now that we’ve put our hankies away and decided to keep the old upper lip firm,
let's start planning. You've got to do your job at your end and keep things going – not
got to worry too much or you‘ll get wrinkles and chaff bags under your eyes and
above all you must go out and enjoy yourself. Tell that Norma I expect a lot from her.
Write to me as often as you can and tell me how you feel, what you've done and I'll be
eagerly waiting for every little word. Norma is to keep me posted of how you are
behaving yourself – and she's got to tell me the truth. If I hear you've been moping I'll
give you a verbal kick in the pants.
Pross and I have a carriage to ourselves this afternoon and he’s lying flat out trying to
catch up on a bit of sleep. We didn't do so well last night as we had to stay in the
waggons which are tied onto the railway trucks.
Hop down home and tell Mother Pross is well, will you darling. He too has been very
sad but we’re both feeling much better now. Cec will have told you our first
destination and we should reach there sometime tomorrow, I think. The meals en
route have been marvellous and we are having a wonderful trip. Of course if the
folksies were with us it would be perfect. The country up this way looks particularly
good after the rain. A good few years ago I came through here and everything was
parched and most of the trees were denuded by bushfires. As we pass, the people
come out and wave to us, some with hankerchiefs, some with flags, some with their
hands. We spot a little house in the distance and there's a little figure waving
frantically so we won't miss it.
And so my darling I come to the end of my first letter. I must post it today if possible.
My writing is worse than usual because of the unsteady train – still I think you'll be
22
able to decipher it. I write to Mother tomorrow but you can give her the news. Until
then sweetheart, Cheerio – ever your loving husband, Me.
P.S. Train has just stopped and we’ve spotted a good sort-too. Later. Frank’s on to it.
Pross will write to Mother , later, tell her also Cec. G.
***
9 December 1942.On lined writing pad in pencil, no identifying details and no
indication of reference through censor. First letter from posting in Queensland. No
censorship marking or numbering.
Dearest Marjorie, We have just arrived at a place with a post office and I’ve time to
dash off a note to you. Hope you're feeling better darling and taking the advice given
in the telegram I sent this morning.
Will you ring up the office and give them the news. I write to them when I get an
opportunity. Perhaps Norma12 will do it for you.
Pross and I are still in the same carriage and having a good time. Really this is a good
holiday and we’ll be getting fat if they keep on feeding us like they’re doing now. We
saw Flo this morning and she looked very well from the distance. We could just hear
her voice as we went by.
There's nothing that I can think of at the moment that I want you to do but if anything
crops up I'll tell you in my next letter. Oh yes! that income tax will have to wait until
after the war I'm afraid so don't do anything about it.
Write soon darling. I'll be on pins to hear from you. All my love sweetheart, George.
PS: the same address will find me. If you're in doubt see Pross's letter for units etc.
***
10 December 1942. On lined writing pad in pencil, without return address or other
identifying details. By inference, this letter was written from Brisbane. Significantly,
arrival in Brisbane was shortly after the “Battle of Brisbane” on 26/27 November
1942 in which large numbers of Australian troops clashed with MPs and other ranks
of the USA forces in a violent conflict resulting in the loss of several lives. Brief
mention of a disturbance was made in the Brisbane Courier Mail but otherwise army
censors were ordered to block any reference to the disturbances. The American Red
Cross Service Building, referred to by George in this letter, is mentioned as the site of
some conflict in at least one later report of the affair which was hushed up for many
years. George’s letter of 11 December 1942 touches upon coldness toward his group
of soldiers that may have been influenced by the events a fortnight earlier. The unit’s
oral history,(Raxworthy)13 mentions other similar instances.
The unit was held in several locations in and around Brisbane from 9 to 28 December
1942, after which separate deployments were made. George Seagrove was in a
section that made slow progress by train and later by road convoy to the Atherton
tablelands outside of Cairns at Ravenshoe where they were until end March 1942.
The unit there was constructing a convalescence and recuperation facility for troops
23
returning from the Kokoda battlefield. His letters give an account of the journey, the
surrounding country and people and the routine trips between Atherton and Cairns
by ambulance for patients requiring general hospital care.
Dearest Marjorie, We’ve been going flat out today and I haven't had a minute to
spare to write to you. Now we're just going on leave to do the town and I want to post
this at the GPO so please excuse the scribble darling.
Hope you have received my first two letters – I understand the telegram was held up
but I didn't learn this until after I'd sent my letter.
How are you sweetheart and how is the old broom and the leaves are they still
blowing all over the place? Wait till we get those lovely pines growing then you won't
have so much trouble will you?
LATER: Pross and I and a few of the boys are now in town – what a town. We
arrived in one section which looked like the city and after wandering around for about
half an hour we discovered we were on the outskirts. We managed to get one beer
then went in search of a better pub but wherever we went we met with shaking heads
and doors slammed in our faces. For some reason unknown to us we are not the most
popular ones in town. Still, I suppose it is really because we don't know anyone and
we haven't time to make friends. In any case it doesn't matter, the boys are the only
company I want. I'm writing this from one of the Cusa Huts14 and there are two girls
playing the piano – guess what they're playing, you're right "Margie I'm always
thinking of you, Margie". Think the boys must have had something to do with that.
Ding Dong and I have been allotted the same job. He is as pleased as punch I think.
Hope he doesn't drive me mad talking about food.
Thought I might find Ray Ellicott up here but his name is not in the phone book. If I
get a chance tomorrow I’ll ring up the place where he used to work. Somehow I think
he is in the Airforce and Joan is living with her people in Sydney.
Well darling the boys seem to be getting a little restless so I'll close now. Give my
love to all – tell dad that I hope his rheumie is easier – and your mother, I hope her
tummy is not playing up. A big hug and kiss for you, from your loving husband,
George.
***
11 December 1942. On lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying details or
censorship. This letter is headed in pencil “ No.4.; probably there had been a prearranged understanding that once on the move, George would number his letters.
There are no letters numbered 1,2,or 3 but it may be assumed that the letters of 8, 9,
and 10 December 1942, although not numbered, are consistent with there being no
gap in the sequence.
Dearest Marjorie, I have just returned from a trip into Brisbane and the town
certainly looks a lot better in the daylight. Got back about 11 o'clock last night after
mooching around for a few hours. The place is lousy with soldiers and the beer,
although very good (Bulimba) is pretty scarce – more so than Sydney I think. After I
24
had finished my third letter to you at the CUSA hut we all strolled over to the
American Red Cross Service building and had a few Cokes (Coco Colas) a game of
billiards and then into the lounge for a little reading of the latest American magazines.
We were going to see "Two Yanks in Trinidad" at the Tivoli at 9 o'clock but on
reaching the theatre we discovered that they wouldn't let us in at half prices so we
wiped them.
Brisbane as you know is on the Brisbane River which means there are a few bridges
(small) around about. Storey Bridge, I think, is the name of the big one which spans
the river. It can't be compared with our Harbour Bridge being much smaller in size
and a great deal less massive. There are quite a number of large departmental stores
scattered through the city itself and some fairly tall buildings. The streets are fairly
wide, some of them with air raid shelters built on them, which, of course, narrows
them very considerably. The trams are similar to Sydney's newest but without any
upholstery and the colour is aluminium! I've seen one bus but I'm sure there must be
more. The City Hall is much better than our Town Hall and it seems to be the main
place for big dancers and functions. Last night the Airforce crowd held a big doovers
there – we poked our noses in the doorway but that's as far as we got. Blackout
restrictions are less severe than Sydney's – all lights seem to be full on.
You should see me now, baby. If ever the Japs sight us they’ll either run like blazes in
fright – or die laughing. We look like a cross between a tree and a goon. We wear the
knee gaiters over the long green giggle pants which make us look like the Foreign
Legion or something. Hope to be able to get a photograph later to send to you.
NB. Just heard mails are being held up for a few days so I suppose you are wondering
why you haven’t heard from me. I’ll keep writing whenever I can and you will be able
to spend a fewer hours trying to decipher my terrible scribble. Don't be disappointed
at long breaks.
The weather is very muggy and light rain is falling. We haven't seen the sun of Sunny
Queensland up to now – perhaps it's better that way and by the way flies are
conspicuous by the absence, thank goodness.
Whenever I start on the weather darling, you know words are getting scarce so I'll
close here. My love to all your family and all mine. I’ll write a few notes when there
is more time to spare, tell them, but in the meantime you can give them the news. A
big kiss and hug sweetheart, Ever your loving, Me.
***
12 December 1942. On lined writing pad paper, in pencil, given George’s number 5,
without any identifying details or censorship.
Dear Marjorie, We’re swamped out of our tents and I'm writing this letter from the
grandstand on Ascot Racecourse while waiting for new orders. It started to drizzle last
night and developed into a steady soaking rain which looks like lasting for a few days.
I think this is about the worst camp I've ever been in during wet weather but there are
two things in its favour. It's close to the city and the ground is not clay. The
racecourse itself is a very good one and about the size of Randwick.
25
Last night I had leave and with Ding Dong went into town. We got a lift just outside
the gates and dropped off at a pub in Brunswick Street. Beer is pretty scarce in
Brisbane so we ordered four pots each to start with. These didn't last very long and
we ordered another four but I could manage only seven and Col finished the eighth.
Don't think that I'm kicking the gong – it was because we'd been paid and I felt like
working up an appetite. After that little session we caught the train and had tea at the
Canteen. Ding Dong was in the singing mood so I had to listen to him go through his
repertoire. Then we went along to the City Hall and watched the dancers from the
sidelines and home to bed in the dark. End of second leave in Brisbane.
I don't know what's on tonight – have a fair idea I'll be on picquet. If not I'll probably
go to the pictures somewhere. We have not had any day leave yet so haven't seen
anything of Brisbane suburbs excepting of course those we travelled through on the
way to the city.
How are you my darling and what have you been doing? How are the beans coming
along? And the grass? I hope you haven't been working too hard on the old mower.
No mail has arrived yet but I'm hoping there’s some on the way. Keep on writing
dear, even if there's no news – I'll be glad to hear about every little thing that happens.
Don't forget a penny stamp is all that is required. I'm always thinking of you
sweetheart and what you are doing.
Cheerio now and all my love, darling, George.
***
14 December 1942. On lined writing pad paper, in pencil, headed No. 6, without any
identifying details or censorship
Dearest Marjorie, Today is hot and sticky and the rain is still hanging around. I hope
to be able to get some washing done this afternoon as I'm down to my last set of
clothes. It's your fault – you spoiled me for so long – but as soon as I get the job under
control I will be a wash daily boy – I hope. Brisbane weather has been right against
washing ever since we’ve been here – that's why there's so much to do.
One of our lads was killed in an accident the other day and this morning we went to
the funeral.15 He was hanging on the side of the tram, (which are always crowded) I
think, and a Yankee truck bowled him off. His mate was also badly injured but I
understand he is out of danger now. The wagons followed the hearse through the city
to the cemetery and he was buried with military honours. Poor lad he didn't go far to
collect his lot did he?
On Saturday night four of us went to the pictures in Brisbane. The show was "Two
Yanks in Trinidad" and “Sing for your Supper". I liked the last mentioned better than
the other one which was the feature. There were a few seats scattered through the
theatre and we made a dive for them. I sat next to a couple of women and after a
while one of them turned to me and asked coyly if I had been to N.G. I assured her
that I had not but – then they told me their husbands were up there and possibly I
would meet them - would I like to come out to dinner and bring my brother. We
decided to call on them last night and they were extremely kind to us in their own
humble way. The house was smothered in photographs of husbands, brothers, sisters,
26
uncles and cousins etc and two dogs entertained us in between times with their doggy
tricks. These two old ladies have no time for the Yanks and they evidently were
anxious to feed some of the green uniform boys. We had a sing-song and got back to
camp about 11 PM after waiting about an hour and a half for a tram that could
accommodate two more passengers. I think Pross was terribly bored!
Yesterday morning I went up to the rifle range with the officers (driving of course),
and had a few shots with a revolver. Pretty lousy too – just managed to hit the target
at 25 yards but it's not as easy as it looks with these big guns. The trip gave me a good
view of Brisbane in the daytime – and I still like Sydney.
A couple of nights ago Bill Kelly, Frank and two others from our tent were walking
down one of the main streets when a fight between two civilians started in front of
them. One had a bottle of something on his hip and the other bloke was giving him a
bashing. The "bombo" king went down for a count, smashing his bottle and there was
money spilling out from his pockets. The funny part about it was on the sidelines
stood two policemen not knowing whether to go in or not. Eventually one policeman
came forward, picked up the money, handed it to the Bombo with the remark "You’d
better put this in your pocket or you’ll lose it". Then he kicked the pieces of bottle
with the toe of his shoe and added "You might cut yourself on this". Could you
imagine Sydney police doing that – I know they might walk away if trouble was
brewing but I am sure they wouldn’t be spectators..
Darling I'm rushing this letter so that Pross can post in the City tonight so please
excuse the scribble.. I haven't heard from you yet but then nobody has heard from
Sydney. I suppose I’m not patient enough. Keep writing Dear – I'll get them sometime
I'm going to try to ring on Thursday night. Be down near the telephone about 8
O'clock but Don't Be Disappointed If I Can't Get through
For now dear, I’ll say cheerio and hope to hear you on Thursday. All my love
darling. I wish I could be with you on Xmas day but I’ll be thinking of you all the
time. Ever your loving Me. P.S. When you see mother, tell her Pross is feeling very
fit and so am I. We get leave every night but it probably won’t last long. Will write
tomorrow. G.
***
15 December 1942
Australian Comforts Fund in conjunction with YMCA letterhead. This letterhead
instructs the writer to “Use Military address only” and “ Mail your letters APO. Do
not mention military activities”; written in pen and ink, no identifying address or
indication of censorship; headed No.7.
Dearest Marjorie,
Pross, Bill Kelly, Joe Young 16 and I have been wandering around the city tonight
having a look see and we've arrived at the above writing room so here goes. This is
the first chance I've had of using a pen.
We’ve had a pretty hard day on a route march this morning, working on the waggons
this afternoon, and I was up at 4 AM and last night I did my washing which, by the
way, was not too successful. My whites turned out all right but the greens were a flop.
27
Because there was no hot water available and no Rinso, (free ad). Next time will be
no toil, only boil.
I wrote Norma – about nothing really –there’s nothing to say as we don't get enough
time to get around much; I mean to the seaside resorts etc. which are miles away. I
think. Sandgate I understand is the closest but it's not much top going there at night.
We had dinner at the American Red Cross, steak chips and sliced tomatoes with two
fat ice creams to follow all for 1/3. That meal would cost half a dollar anywhere else.
Our own canteens can't even tie the ARC for value.
How are you darling? I always ask because I always want to know and I haven't
received a letter. Is Betty still taking her pills and what about the little Anne – does
she rumba as well as ever? Tell Bett I'm sorry I couldn't see her to say cheerio – she
might have brought me a tomato or something. What's happening with Bill, has he left
yet? If so, will you send me his address. I also must get a list from the office in case
we go up near where the boys are. I must write to Mr Patterson soon, although there's
not much I can tell him – think I'll leave it until Christmas greeting time.
Well dear, the boys are raring to go and this is just a rush note so goodbye for the
present. Don't worry darling I can manage the washing etc and when it gets brown
throw away and get a fresh issue. I don't need anything at the moment. I'll scream
when I do. Of course I would like to be able to catch the 5.20 train again – bye- bye
sweetheart and happy dreams. Ever you’re loving, Me.
***
16 December 1942. In pencil on Salvation Army issue letterhead: with notation” Red
Shield Services for Australian troops .My strength is as the strength of ten because my
heart is pure’. Without identifying address or details, headed No.8.
Dearest Marjorie, Just finished mess and I've got an hour to spare, I hope, for writing.
I wrote to you last night from the YMCA in Edward Street which of course means
there's nothing new to tell you. This is an "Hello" letter.
Tonight if I get a chance I am going to book a call for Sydney so I trust you got my
message and will be standing by the phone.
Christmas is not far away now is it? Somehow doesn't seem the same when you're not
near home but I'll be thinking about you and will drink to a speedy reunion – in water
or tea if there’s nothing else offering.
The rain seems to have gone and yesterday and today the sun has been shining – hope
to be able to have a swim if there's any leave offering at weekend, the water is almost
lukewarm all the time and cold showers are quite easy to take. I suppose the river and
sea water will be the same
Dearest, are missing me much? I certainly hope you are in a way – but darling don't
let it get you down as there's nothing we can do about it except write as many letters
as possible even if there's only a few words. That's the only way to bridge the gap.
Groundsman are cutting the grass on the racetrack and I thought of you when I saw
the grass flying into the box. With that machine you could do lawns in 20 minutes
without any effort.
How's Pop and Mum and Norma? Tell your mother I’ll boot that cat in the ribs next
time I get home. Norma will come in for her lot too.
28
[Editor’s note: The photo above is from around that time. It shows, in back row,
Marjorie’s father and mother, Wilf and Estelle Howe; in the front row, L to R,
Marjorie, her Niece Anne Thummler, and her youngest sister, Norma Howe]
That's all now sweetheart. I'll be here again tomorrow so until then keep the old flag
flying. All the love in the world from, your loving, Me
PS Pross wrote to mother last night so she’ll know about everything. We’re both
feeling exceptionally well and having a good time. Cecil will be pleased to hear we
get leave every night, except when on picquet. By the way, has he been to see you? I
know he rang Joe Young's wife (incidentally she's en famille) as Joe’s rung home the
other night. We're both going to write to Cecil soon.
***
18 December 1942. Threepenny Lettercard, in ink, without identifying details or sign
of censorship, headed No.9
Dearest Marjorie, I felt very happy last night after hearing your voice – it made us
feel closer didn't it. I had such a lot to talk about but didn't have time. Next time I ring
keep on talking until we’re cut off even if its before we can say goodbye so that will
get best value. Your voice was quite clear, but evidently there was something wrong
at this end.
Yesterday we went for a shoot and I cut my little finger on the “ammunition” car –
that's why my writing is worse than ever tonight. Pross, Joe and I just had tea at the
CUSA Hut 17(flathead, chips and ice cream) and were looking around for a picture
show or stadium or something. The weather is now very hot but it's not that
uncomfortable clammy heat today. We've decided to go for a swim tomorrow if the
leave promised comes to light. When we arrived in town tonight we walked about 2
miles in search of beer – no luck, the Yanks have it all in their insides, I think. By the
way I got a Christmas present of 5/- from the unit funds. All the boys feel flush and
the ice creams etc are getting a hiding. Can't say much more now darling, but will
write to you tomorrow. All my love sweetheart, ever your loving, Me.
***
29
19 December 1942. Threepenny Lettercard, in ink, without identifying details or sign
of censorship, headed No.10
Darling Sweetheart, I didn't write yesterday as I was on leave and arrangements were
mucked up a bit. Four of us were going for a swim after a few "Bulimbas" but in the
rush to get a couple before the pub closed, we were separated and some time had
elapsed before we all got together again. It was an ideal day for the water but before
given leave passes we had to do an hour's solid PT which of course relieved us of all
our surplus energy.
Joe Young has friends at Corinda about 7 miles out and they invited us to tea. You
would love this house I am sure. Everything is so well ordered, the lawns are like a
billiard table and they have all kinds of tropical fruits growing as well as ordinary
vegetables. The soil must be very fertile indeed. How would you like to be able to go
out into the garden and pick a pineapple or a paw-paw or a monsterio delicio, (Norma
knows how you spell it). Mrs Lang made us very welcome and the little girl next door
came in to entertain us on the pianola. Incidentally she is a very charming lass about
5'8" and I think Joe matched her with Pross. No letters have arrived from home yet so
I don't know what's doing down there. Several of the boys received news written 16th
and 17th and some a month old. Disappointed that there was none for me, still
suppose we'll get that soon. Love, George.
PS Moved 15 miles out today.
***
20 December 1942. On quarto block, lined, headed “With the compliments of the
Sailors and Soldiers Church of England Help Society”; in ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship, headed No.11. This is the first letter written after the
unit was moved out of Brisbane to a base at, Grovelly , on the rail line just outside
Brisbane. It seems it may have been near what is now called Enoggera Military base.
Dearest Marjorie, It's raining again. Sunny Queensland seems to be a land of showers
and sunshine and soldiers. We are now at a fixed camp called Grovely about 8 miles
from Brisbane. Which means we are no longer on draft and likely to stay put for a
little time. I think the lads are a bit disgusted about being uprooted before Christmas
and stuck out here. How I would love to be with you at Christmas and New Year but I
suppose it was not to be this year. Please don't mind very much darling and have a
happy time. I'll be thinking of you and wondering how you are enjoying yourself. I'm
going to spend the day in camp and take my rest day on Saturday with Pross, as it is
his birthday. As you can imagine there will be very few eating shops open on
Christmas Day and it will be more like a very quiet Sunday.
We have now got back to the one night a week and a rest day so my letters may not be
quite as regular unless I can find a post office somewhere handy. I must investigate
tonight. I forgot to thank you for the cake and sultanas. I opened the tin and had a
little look-see but I haven't tried it yet. That's for the party. Hope I'm not tempted
before we get around to it. You said it went down in the centre, well I bet it will go
down very quickly all round when we start in – it looks a little beaut.
30
While I think of it, Pross asked me to mention that his parcel arrived – so will you tell
mother, dear. He also received a letter from young Normie18, which is our first contact
with home, barring of course, the phone call.
The mail, (early letters) went to Moresby or Townsville I understand. You should see
the boys when the mail is brought in. The orderly sergeant walks along with the
bundle under his arm and behind him trailing are about fifty half-dressed, jabbering
individuals. Some have been showering, some washing, some doing fatigues.
Everything stops for the time being. Then the sergeant blows his whistle and calls
"Come and get your mail". Out of the tents and huts, from under trucks, from
everywhere, they come running like rabbits. Or I should say like Vic's kids when you
visit them. Names are then called out and each lucky one lets out a yell of delight as if
he’d won a prize in the lottery. Poor Brian, (who always looks half-daft) married a
couple of days before we left, doesn't get any and the boys start to give him the works.
"She must be too busy running around with another fellah to have time to write".
"You’re no good to her up here, she must have a boyfriend". Brian is so disappointed
he goes to his tent and again collapses into a semi-coma. He’s on the same truck as
Frank and Frank thinks it would be a good idea to send him back as he leaves him all
the work to do. I met a lieut at Joe's friends place the other night and he said the delay
was quite a common occurrence in such circumstances – he'd waited six weeks for his.
I hope we are luckier than that, dear, but keep on writing and probably I'll get the later
ones first.
The last time I was in town I was speaking to a couple of Americans who put some
wild notions into my head. Then we come out here and I see what happens to the
naughty little boys. We are overlooking a detention camp and some of the occupants
didn't even get to first base, I believe. Draftees going AWL are classed as deserters.
How are you, darling and all your family? Has Bill gone away yet? I ran into some of
Jim Darcy's crowd a few days ago and they said they thought he'd gone to Kempsey –
well that's almost as bad as up here I suppose, as far as getting home is concerned
anyhow.
Mother and Judy I expect are worrying about their baby. You can assure them he's as
fit as a fiddle and the same applies to me. I told you I'd given my little finger bit of a
gash – it's just about healed now. I'm glad I had those anti-tetanus injections as I
31
might have been nursing a sore arm now.
Have any letters come for me from overseas? I haven't written to any of the boys yet
but I'll do so at the first opportunity. If you like, you can tell the office to forward any
mail direct to me – that's if you don't want to read them first.
Brisbane has a very poor selection of Christmas cards, sweetheart and I've decided not
to send any. Instead I'll drop a few notes to the folks. In any case I haven't a chance in
the world of getting any leave until next Saturday. Now don't you eat too much
pudding and just about 1.30 make a wish and I'll bet my wish will be the same.
Will you give them all a big Christmas kiss for me. Your father, mother, Norm (the
little dear), Betty, Little Anne, Bill, Guy, Ida, Allen, Aub, Jesse and kids, not
forgetting withered walnuts Dulcie and Doug and auntie Cissie. Also Christmas
wishes to all the others, especially those over the fence. I'll probably be able to get
another letter to you before next Friday but in case I can't my darling little wife let me
tell you here once again I love you more than ever and I wish you a happy time. Even
though I'm not there to enjoy it with you, you must keep up the old spirit and
remember that's how I want you to be. Until my next letter sweetheart darling cheerio
and Merry Christmas. Forever yours, Me.
PS I had a look around the shops for a small gift but I couldn't see anything suitable
so I would you like to do something for me. Please go and buy yourself something
from me and let me know what it is. I know this is not a nice way to give a gift but
I'm sure you'll understand I would be very disappointed if you wouldn't do this as
after all, I still want to be Santa Claus. All my love G.
***
23 December 1942. On quarto block, lined, headed “With the compliments of the
Sailors and Soldiers Church of England Help Society”; in ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship, not numbered.
Dearest Marjorie, I am writing this one from a mess hut and the time is 7.30. In front
of me are two lines of hungry soldiers and breakfast won't be on until 8 AM, the
cooks say. Well you can imagine the racket and the language. The orderly officer
never comes around – probably not out of bed yet. Outside the rain is coming down in
torrents, everything is wet but there's not much mud – the soil is rather sandy and
there is a fair amount of green grass about.
I think I told you in a previous letter that the spot overlooks the detention camp. Since
we've been here there have been three breaks – only one successful. Two of the
prisoners hopped the fence – through our lines into the AWAS Camp and got away, I
hope, for Christmas. Last night a cove made a break but was tackled by Provost after
a run of 100 yards – I suppose he'll get solitary confinement for a few days, poor
blighter.
Later: It is now 1.30 and have just finished dinner. And oh darling, I received your
first letter during the morning. I almost had a weep. It was such a lovely letter and the
first one I ever had from you. I'm so pleased to hear that you are well and carrying on
like a good little soldier. I can just imagine you up in your room writing, on Saturday
night and the two old folks down in the lounge, sleeping or at least one of them
sleeping. I suppose Dad still listens to the news from London and your mother snores
and then indignantly denies that she was asleep.
32
So Bett has decided to settle down – well that's grand. And dear little Anne – she
knows I'm up at Bullabakanka. Sorry to hear you didn't get any fish – keep trying and
you'll never miss a fish breakfast, oh yeah!
I'll have to finish now, as the quarter hour to parade has blown. I haven't got the
registered letter or parcel yet but I s'pose they will turn up tomorrow Christmas Eve.
In regard to phone call – it cost only 1/11 and I can usually spring that much, so you
needn't worry about sending P/N. – Thank you all the same darling. The difficulty is
getting the time. I had booked the call the previous night for 8 o'c and then had to wait
until 9.25. That was all right when we were getting every night leave but of course
that is up now. I'm going to have difficulty in posting letters too. By the way will you
please give mother the enclosed letter. Tell her it's payday tomorrow but today I've
only one stamp to my name.
Once again a Merry Christmas sweetheart and God bless you. With all my love and
great big hugs and kisses, George. PS excuse scribble darling but pen is dry and the
pencil is easier. PS looks like a move next couple of days.
***
25 December 1942.On lined plain writing pad paper, in pencil, without identifying
details or sign of censorship.
Dear Marjorie, How’s the Christmas dinner?. I'm trying to picture you now and I
suppose you're wondering what I'm doing too. Well we really had an excellent meal –
poultry, carrots baked and mashed potatoes, pudding with sauce, packets of nuts and
raisins Mynor Fruit Cup. Plenty of everything. So much in fact I came away with my
pockets bulging, that's for our own tent party with the cake, nuts caramel etc. you sent.
The parcel arrived yesterday but not the registered letter. I mention this because so
many things go astray these days but registered ones are the responsibility of the Post
Office.
Norma's and Betty's letters arrived yesterday. I will write to them tomorrow if
possible – possibly on the train. We're going North in the next couple of days,
Townsville or perhaps further up I think. I have quite a few friends up there as you
know, so I will try to contact them. The weather today is steaming hot and the
perspiration is just rolling off me – my shirt looks as if it's been dipped. Pross is mad
with the zeal – he’s gone down for another shower after washing this morning (his
clothes I mean).
When he comes back we’re going to have a look at Brisbane suburbs. We met a party
of boys and girls last night and they asked us to dinner today. That wasn't possible of
course but we may as well go out this afternoon and help them drink their beer if any.
I'll be able to post this letter too.
33
Well dear girl, there's not much more for me to say now but I'll keep you informed
whenever possible on the trip. Don't worry if you don't hear for a few days as I may
strike difficulties. Tell Mother Pross is looking a picture of health and I'm also in the
pink. A special big Christmas kiss and hug for you sweetheart. I'm always thinking of
you and wishing I could be with you, darling. Ever yours, Me.
***
26 December 1942. On Australian Comforts Fund in conjunction with YMCA
letterhead; written in pen and ink, without identifying details or sign of censorship,
headed “ No.14, I think”
Dearest Marjorie, Here it is Boxing Day and we are in Brisbane city on leave again.
Not a bad sort of a life eh? I wish we were in Sydney with the same opportunity for a
good time.
How did you spend Christmas Day, darling? A gathering of the clan as usual I
suppose with one empty chair at the table? Hope you didn't have too much Christmas
port or champagne. Did Anne have a visit from Santa Clause? I would have loved to
see her strutting around showing off her toys. And did the boys manage to get a few
bottles for the icebox? I expect they'll be saving up as much as possible for the new
year’s eve celebration or is that wiped this time.
I think I told you we were invited up to a place in Coorparoo. After a trip into town in
a very fast moving truck we eventually caught the Camp Hill tram and were on our
way to the party. When we duly arrived at the house we were greeted by seven girls,
two American soldiers, four Aussies and a dog. They seemed a little surprised to see
us in spite of the fact that we were there by invitation only. However they made us
come in on the carpet marked "welcome" and informed us that the bottle was empty.
The American "Sargent" was holding the floor in the usual manner of making
wisecracks that were terribly funny. "Ha Ha Ha". (They're really not up to the
standard on the films but of course the majority of Yanks are ordinary decent blokes).
Later, two bronze diggers back from M.E. came in and the scene changed. The
biggest and brownest of the two started off by saying, "It looks as if we’re in the
majority for once." Which seemed to offend friend "Sargent" (among other pin-pricks,
of course), next thing we know he can't be found anywhere – gone with the wind,
vamoosed – without a word of farewell, kiss me foot or anything. The girls said
"Americans is queer like that." The other guy stuck around with his girlfriend and
turned out to be a good scout. Somebody else was expected with an armful of
refreshments but it didn't eventuate – at any stage.
We had tea with what was left over from dinner and just managed to eke out – (not
that I was hungry, only thirsty). Water the beverage but I got a cup of tea later. I'm
being ungrateful, aren’t I, in these austerity times and with unexpected guests popping
in. Actually we were made very welcome and the lasses were a bright lot. They are
typists with the American army and they come from Victoria. We lolled about making
conversation about Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane.
Then the bronzed blonde suggested we take a ride in the back of his utility truck to
see the sights. After going along for a mile or so the engine konked out and after
messing around for some time we discovered were out of petrol (genuine story), so
Don had to ring up his cobber in camp for a 4 gallon drum. Cobber arrived two hours
later, all the time we were picqueting the track and keeping out of the sight of
provosts. I mean to say what could a man do when there were six soldiers and only
four girls, (the others didn't fancy the ride). I was thinking how beautiful it would
34
have been if you had got out your magic carpet and come to me, darling.
So ended Christmas Day 1942. Oh, we dropped the tarts and sped on to a little wet
tent on the hill. On the way back we picked up 17 tired soldiers who had been
pounding the pavements. Incidentally the trucks maximum load is six persons. Well
that’s how it is with the returned AIF. Don is really a nice fellow (comes from
Grafton –) especially as he dropped us not more than 100 yards from our tent.
In camp, we learned a corker tea had been provided with ice cream soft drinks and
everything – so there you are.
Haven't I taken up a lot of space to tell you of an uneventful day. Still I thought you'd
like to know. Darling sweetheart, I miss you very much and every night I lie in bed
thinking about you and look forward to the time that I’ll be coming home. Boy, will
we paint that town red. Until next time dear, I’ll say goodbye. With all my love, Your,
Me. PS. How would you like to see a picture of me in jungle green?
***
27 December 1942. On quarto block, lined, headed “With the compliments of the
Sailors and Soldiers Church of England Help Society”; in ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship, not numbered.
Dearest Marjorie, I wrote my last letter in the YMCA in Edward Street and in a big
hurry as the boys were anxious to get on the move. That's why I didn't include Boxing
Day doings in the bulletin. As you know it was Pross' birthday so we began by
singing "Happy Birthday to you". Leave was granted from 10 AM and the day was
very hot and steaming and we decided to go for a swim in the Valley Pool. This is a
standard Olympic Pool like Enfield and Milson’s Point baths. Strangely enough there
wasn't a terrific crowd so we were able to have a good swim and a bit of a sunbake.
I'm getting up a good tan in this climate -- probably finish up like a nigger.
Then we decided to go in search of lunch and if possible a beer. We found the lunch.
Only one hotel was open in all Brisbane I believe so you can imagine what chance we
had to wet the whistle. After having lunch at the Defence Canteen we strolled up to
the YMCA and from there out to New Farm in the tram and back to Toowong. At
Toowong Regatta Hotel we gave the signal on the bell and obtained admission and a
few beers. The lounge was full of Yank soldiers, sailors and marines. I have spoken to
a number of the old leathernecks from Guadalcanal (spelling?) and they are good
fellows. They seem to be a different type from the office soldiers stationed at
Brisbane and not at all friendly towards same. It's quite a common sight to see a green
suit going around arm in arm with a marine.
In this club we also met some submarine lads. You'd be amazed at their ages. I was
watching one of them sink a schooner (pot in Brisbane) and was wondering what his
mother would think if she could see him. He was a clean eyed freshfaced youngster of
the ripe old age of 16. His mate (about 19) told me the maximum age at enlistment is
17. And they love the job.
The last we saw of them was in a car, which they had hired or commandeered,
speeding towards Brisbane, missing telegraph poles by split inches. Money is no
35
object with them, I think they get the equivalent of two pounds per day and they have
plenty of time to save up. Great kids although pretty irresponsible.
We caught the bus back to the city and had tea at the Canteen, cost threepence each
for as many sandwiches as we could eat. Then to a carnival along the road to the
Valley and back to camp on the 11.25 train.
By the way Grace Moore is singing "One night of love" on the radio. Makes me feel
as if I'm sitting in your lounge room. The guy at the dial just turned off the "Quiz
Kids".
It's raining outside in keeping with Brisbane weather. In fact it has rained every day
we have been here I think. Summer storms which come and go with remarkable
rapidity.
I had to go on picquet when I arrived in last night and boy was I tired. Got to bed at 2
AM, closed my eyes for 2 seconds it seemed and reveille sounded. Church Parade this
morning and the rest of the day on small arms training -- finishing with a wash
parade.
We’re all packed up ready to move tomorrow and as far as I can make out we’re
going north of Townsville, probably north of Cairns so you may not hear from me for
a few days. I'll drop a line whenever possible but don't worry, honey, everything is
going to be all right.
I got your letter number six this morning and it gave me great heart. Of course, I
remember our trip to Manly and the walk and ice creams we had. I remember every
little thing we've ever done -- you're right -- nobody can take away all those good
times we have had. If I had my life over I'd like to do the things we did, again.
Memories are sweet dear, and a great comfort when we’re so far apart, aren't they?
When I come home will make up for all time lost and don't forget about our second
honeymoon.
Do you still wear the little short frock which shows off your pretty little knees? You
know the one I mean -- the one you said I didn't like, because I laughed and told you
were getting fat when you were wearing it. I was only teasing, Darling, and you
shouldn't take any notice. You go on wearing it and keep that lovely suntan. Take it
easy and don't go getting any more of those blisters.
My finger has almost completely healed – must be the good blood, eh? They wanted
to put a couple of stitches in it at first but I wouldn't let them as the cut was clean and
well held together naturally. I can hardly see the mark now so I was right, wasn't I.
The comfort parcel from George Paterson's came this morning. It will come in very
handy on the train and with the cake (not touched yet) and parcel you sent we should
be able to have a "posh" party. Teeney and Mother also sent as a lot of goodies. In
fact, I think ours is far from an austerity Christmas -- it makes a lump come up in my
throat when I think of everyone being so kind. Hope we will be able to pick up a few
curios to send back to you all.
36
Well, darling little wife, that's all for now. May you get your every wish for the New
Year and may 1943 be happy and successful for us and bring us together again before
it is many months old. Will you give my best wishes and love to all and tell them I
will be remembering them when we seeing "Auld Lang Syne".A big New Year's eve
kiss for you sweetheart, I wish I could deliver it.
Ever your loving, Me
PS I think your letters are the loveliest I’ve ever read -- so please write and write. G.
***
29 December 1942. On plain, lined writing pad paper, in pencil, without identifying
details or sign of censorship, headed 16.
Dearest Marjorie, Your number 7 letter arrived yesterday at Grovelly and it cheered
me up a lot to know you're feeling well, even though minus 4 pounds. Don't you go
losing too much weight. As I understand where we are going, one gets as fat as butter
and a little skinny wife wouldn't like a big fat husband. From this scrawl you will
realise I'm on the bumpy old train headed north. It's impossible to keep control of the
pencil but I may get an opportunity to post when we stop for breakfast which should
be sometime this afternoon. The train is already about four hours behind schedule. We
stopped at Gympie an hour or so ago and managed to get a cup of tea and a ham
sandwich so with the Christmas pudding and cakes from home were not doing too
badly. I had a very good sleep last night in the top berth of the ambulance -- strangely
enough the only times I woke was when the train was pulled up on a side track to let
the expresses go through. Apparently it's easy to tune out the noise , (and babe, you
have got no idea of the racket these leaping Lena's make) but silence is too hard on
the ears. Soot and ashes fly everywhere making everything filthy. Still who cares,
we've got plenty of water aboard and we have a wash at every stop. Pross and Joe are
on the second truck from us. Col, at the moment is asleep in the bunk opposite to
where I am sitting. Guess what he said when he got out of bed this morning -- you're
right -- it was "what time do we eat". I'll bet that his mother was always stuffing
something down his neck when he was a kid. I wonder what his bride -- wife would
say if she saw him hanging his bottom over the side of the truck doing his daily
motion. Don't misunderstand me, the old Ding Dong's all right but very crude in
patches. The train driver must be trying to make up some of that lost time -- seems to
have been flat out, hope you can read this.
Just had to stop for awhile the bumps were too bad -- now we are at another siding
and stationary, so here's my chance.
Thanks darling for the Christmas wishes. I have already told you what I did that day
and you may depend I was thinking of you and all at home -- when you were drinking
that toast. I shall keep that piece of Christmas bush with me all the time I'm away.
Wouldn't it have been lovely if you could have come up to Brisbane for a short
holiday but of course it is not possible to come any further. Never mind, we’ll have to
make up for it when I come back to you. We're off again.
I know you wouldn't ask me darling, but in but in case you should like assurance: "I
haven't been under the apple tree with anyone else but you. So you see I am "as you
desire me". Now why did I have to tell you that?.
37
For now dear, I’ll have to sign off as breakfast approacheth. Give my fondest love to
all your folks and mine. Let them know at Huntly Point that Pross got the birthday
telegram also one from Cecil. I received a nice letter from David and will reply soon.
Only have one stamp on me so am including Betty's note with this and will you please
hand it to her. Another big kiss for the New Year dear, and one every month I’m
away.
Ever your loving, Me.
PS didn't have a chance to see Mac Merryweather, news came too late. G.
***
30 December 1942. On plain, lined writing pad paper, in pencil, without identifying
details or sign of censorship, not numbered.
Dearest Marjorie, We arrived in Rockhampton at about eight o'clock this morning
after a slow bumpy ride from Maryborough. The train travelled fast enough really, but
the stops and mucking around letting the priority trains go ahead put us right behind
schedule. However I slept through most of it, waking occasionally -- once at
Gladstone where I got a glimpse of the harbour which I believe is quite a fair size.
Couldn't see much at 2 AM. First thought on reaching Rocky was for a shower, to get
the lumps of coal and cinders out of hair, eyes and a change of clothing on a clean
body. Breakfast was about to be served so we ate first. By the time I'd taken my fill, it
was raining like blazes and the train had pulled over on to another line about three
quarters of a mile away. The rain didn't look like clearing up so I made a dash for it
and got soaking wet. There was nothing else to do but strip off and have a shower on
the track. This is the first time I've given exhibition of a bath in the rain. I'm sure if
the people in the houses about 300 yards from here had been interested they would
have seen everything that nature gave to the transport. At breakfast Joe Young told us
he woke up last night and for a moment thought he was at home. He heard a female
voice say "I like pyjamas with a cord around the waist" and another one say "oh! I'd
much rather wear a nightie". Joe looked out and lo and behold there was a bevy of
beautiful dames (WAAF’s at billets) about to retire and the whole of the train was
asleep. I think Joe dreams a bit -- but he swears it was true.
I have to go on picquet in a short time and it's just coming down in bucketful's
outside. We’re held up here indefinitely as all the rivers further up north are up over
the bridges. We may be here for a couple of days. Most of the boys have got a few
hours off to have a look at Rocky -- I'll be going off as soon as I have done my
picquet, so I'll be able to post this letter then.
There’s not much more for me to say now darling except I love you more than ever I
can tell you and wish you were here, in different circumstances. I'll let you know what
I think of Rocky in my next letter. So until then, bye-bye Sweetheart Darling, Ever
your loving, Me. PS. Give my love to all and let Mother know we are both in perfect
health. G.
***
31 December 1942. On plain, lined writing pad paper, in pencil, without identifying
details or sign of censorship, headed 16.
Dearest Marjorie, This is the last day of the year and I'm spending it in
Rockhampton. Further up north I understand there have been heavy floods and
38
washaways and there are about five northbound trains held up. It's quite probable that
we will be here until Sunday so are making the best of it and digging in. In fact we
have made quite a little camp in the goodsyards at the Station and really we’re
enjoying the stay. One big advantage of being an ambulance driver is that you always
carry your bed around with you. The rain has eased off for a while but I think we'll
get some more before long.
Yesterday we had the freedom of the city and we found the people most hospitable -in fact everybody in these country towns seem very happy to see us and make us very
welcome. Here the Americans have worn out their welcome a little, I think, and the
green uniform is very popular. Unfortunately, one of our coves had a bit of a dust-up
with an American and leave was cancelled last night -- but we got out anyhow and
saw Rocky in the dark. Yes you can tell Cec, Pancho drew his knife on a Yank and
when the Yank MPs wanted to take him, he called on the boys. For awhile, things
look nasty but the Americans were fair (in my opinion too fair) and one MP spoke to
me and asked me to get Pancho back to the "Ship" as quickly as possible before the
Civil police picked him up. A couple of our sergeants took him in tow but later the
police came and got him and he spent a night in the "boob". I don't think I'll drink any
more plonk if that's what it does for you.
Since we have been here we had two long route marches. I suppose to take the steam
out of us. It's a good way of seeing the place and at the same time, good exercise. In
spite of the moans, I think the CO has his head screwed on the right way.
Well my darling, this is the end of 1942. A year of great changes for us, wasn't it?
Things we had not dreamed off -- and yet, as compared with some others, we were
fortunate. The sorrows of those partings and upheavals will perhaps be a solid
foundation for our future. You see darling, if you don't know what is bitter -- you'll
never appreciate the sweet. (Ding Dong is talking now sweetheart so I'll say cheerio
until tomorrow). Will write again tomorrow. At 12 o'clock I'll send you a telepath –ograph.. Hope you get it. My darling wife. George PS the torrent of words has ceased
so I'll give you that big New Year's kiss with my body and soul darling, forever yours,
Me
PPS Colin sends his very best regards and wishes you a very happy New Year and
hopes that you and I will be together before long (he wants to go home too). George
(verbatim).
***
January 1943
Rockhampton to Ravenshoe
The unit had been held in several locations in and around Brisbane from 9 to 28
December 1942, after which separate sectional deployments were made. George
Seagrove was in a section that made slow progress by train and later by road
convoy to the Atherton tablelands outside of Cairns at Ravenshoe. There that
section of the unit stayed until end March 1942. Its main task was construction of
a convalescence and recuperation facility for troops returning from the Kokoda
39
battlefield. His letters give an account of the surrounding country and the routine
trips to Atherton by ambulance for patients requiring general hospital care.
1 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details, in
pencil, headed No: 18
Dearest Marjorie, Sorry for having to cut my last letter so abruptly but you know how
it is trying to write with someone talking to you. Well sweetheart, how did you spend
New Year's eve? I was back with you, in thoughts, at 12 o'clock and I suppose you
were wondering where your wandering boy was at that moment. Still in Rocky
(presumably Rockhampton, pre-posting), old girl and keeping up the spirits with a
bottle of port (all that was available).
A little way up the street Frank and I were hailed by some people. Mum, dad, three
girls and two young kids – who asked us to come along to a dance. We went along but
the place was crowded with Americans and our boys and the night was very hot. I sat
out most of the time – must be getting too old for these jigs. Around about 11.45 the
mob started to go wild joining arms and screaming out at the top of their voices. A
fairly buxom lass came and grabbed me and dragged me onto the floor and away I
went with the tide. A Yank got up and called for three cheers for the USA followed
by a call for three cheers for Australia – well the Aussies nearly lifted the roof, in
spite of the fact they were in the minority. After the shouting had subsided, the wench
at my side said: “I'm so glad I was holding the hand of an Aussie soldier. My
boyfriend is in New Guinea and the Yanks are such skites".
Seem to have them wearing (illegible) out but just the same there are some fine coves
among them and they try to be friendly with us.
When the dance finished I walked home with the family and they asked me in. The
house was a "little old last year's” finished with bare necessities but the folks were
very kind and sent me away with a pineapple, half-dozen mangoes and some slices of
cake. The old cove asked me if I wanted any money – fairly decent old stick, eh?
That's how I spent New Years eve.
Cut the Christmas cake yesterday darling, and oh boy, is she a beaut! Little bit
underdone right in the centre but did you put in the fruit. It's a lovely cake Sweetheart
and I'm keeping it well rationed so that it will last a while. That's all for now, dear.
Love to all and a great big kiss and hug for you my darling wife. Ever your devoted,
Me.
PS. More tomorrow I think. Going to a place called Ravenshoe out from Cairns.
Better keep it under your hat for a while. Love G.
***
2 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details, in
pencil, headed: No: 19
Dearest Marjorie, I am getting a little tired of good old Rocky now as the rain never
seems to cease and it ties us down. The sun shone through the clouds a few times
yesterday but today everything is wet and doesn't look like clearing up for a week. I
believe this weather is seasonable and we’re just unlucky to be here in December –
40
January. Arrangements had been made for us to pull out this morning on a 200 mile
detour out West but the rains have hit the west and the watercourse rivers or "what
have you" are in flood. So we stay put for a while longer. The CO will no doubt have
very great pleasure in taking us on a two-hour route march shortly, as usual.
Rockhampton is the second-largest, (maybe third), town in Queensland with a
population of about 25,000 civilians. It’s sort of spread over a big plain backed by
high hills. A few miles out is a good airport and of course, Rocky has its own radio
station 4RK. The railway yards cover a large area about half a mile from the main part
of the town. There are a number of large modern buildings scattered about, Court
House, Town Hall, School of Arts and commercial houses. A swimming pool is in
course of erection and I bet it will be a paying proposition – I had a look in last night
and in spite of rain and festive season the place was crowded. Mostly dairy farms
around Rocky I understand but there are a few pineapple plantations too. The Yanks
have caused the increased cost of the pineapples – they now sell but 4d each – I'm
told the usual price in the season is 10 for one shilling: B.Y. (before Yanks). Most
remarkable thing about Rocky are wide streets and trains running through a couple of
them.
I have received only two letters from you sweetheart so I s’pose others have gone
further on – won’t I have a time when they all come to hand. I hope you're getting
mine alright – also telegram I sent on New Year's Eve. Tell your mother I bored a
couple of holes in a condensed milk can and had a rare old time by myself – greedy
thing aren’t I.
There goes the call for Mess parade, darling so will close. Keep on writing won’t you,
I'll get them eventually and it will be like all my birthdays coming at once. Love to all
and kisses for you darling girl, Ever your own, Me.
PS don't forget to tell mother Pross is very well and I think putting on weight. He said
he is writing home today but you know what these young blokes are like at writing.
You remember me talking about my girlfriend in St Ives – little Joan. She
remembered us at Christmas with a wee card on which she had written a few words.
Isn't she lovely kid. I'm going to drop her a line soon. I suppose Cecil goes over to see
family occasionally. G.
***
3 February 1943 but almost certainly written 3 January
On Soldiers' Welfare Club (under auspices Trades and Labour Council) letterhead
Rockhampton; in ink, without identifying details or sign of censorship, headed [also]
No. 19.
Dearest Marjorie, Pross has gone up to Yepoona and Emu Park with some of the
boys and we're free for the afternoon so I'll take the opportunity to scribble a few lines.
These places are beaches about 30 miles out from Rocky. I was going to have a look
see but it rained early this morning and I had a few things to do so I pulled out at the
last moment and went to Church instead. St Paul's Cathedral is a lovely modern
building right in the heart of Rockhampton and of course the service is high church. I
had to checkup afterwards to reassure myself I hadn't been to Mass. The Archbishop
is an American who can speak a lot of lovely words, for instance, he spoke about the
New Year, standing on the threshold with wings of mystery folded, gazing into the
41
future, with the god light shining in her eyes and wondering what the year holds in
store. It was very beautiful but I couldn't really understand what it was all about.
Last night, I walked up to the School of Arts where a dance was in progress. Told the
codger on the door that I was broke and "Could I go in and have a look?" "Hop in"
says he, so I hop in. A bunch of our lads were there with the girls from the
refreshment rooms. I had a couple of spins round the floor and then the jitterbug
started so I cleared out. Walking down the road I bumped into an American Airman
who had been drowning his sorrows or something and was very drunk. I escorted the
guy to his hotel and then went home to bed. I've had enough of this place and will be
glad when we leave. We should get underway tonight, thank goodness. If I can't be
home, I want to see new places and new faces all the time.
Hope you have been looking after yourself darling, and not worrying about me. How
is the garden coming along, has Dad been keeping the veggies up to scratch? I had a
yarn to an Airman who had been through Sydney recently – told me you'd been
getting a share of rain for the festive season. You must get your umbrella re-covered
or you'll be catching cold, sweetheart.
Will write again tomorrow so until then bye-bye and God bless you my own, Forever
Yours, Me.
***
4 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details, in
pencil, headed: No: 21
My dearest Marjorie, Once more we' re on the iron track speeding north and the rain
still pours down in bucketfuls. At the moment we are holding at a place called St
Lawrence about 110 or so miles from Rocky. Right along the line we have been
passing big lagoons – huge paddocks under water – brought into existence by the 20
inches of rain that has fallen within the last day or so. When she rains up here, she
sure does rain. About 5 miles back we crossed a great plain – very like that plain near
Canberra only bigger. Running through this are what look like fair-sized rivers –
creeks, I suppose, in flood – and on the higher parts, the cattle are standing around
looking as unconcerned as possible about the proceedings. (You've gathered by now
that the train is in motion again).
St Lawrence is fading in the distance and after crossing a regular river once again we
are on the flats. From where I'm sitting in the ambulance I can see plenty of birdlife:
White Cockatoos, ducks of all descriptions, big grey birds with long skinny legs
resembling flamingos. This country must be flooded lowlands referred to in "Harry
Dale the Drover".
We left Rockhampton at 6.30 this morning amid cheers and handshakes from
newfound friends of the five days sojourn in that city. The tracks we are on are the
worst I've ever struck – feels as if the train is going to jump off at any moment and the
noise is terrific. Next up is Mackay – more than 90 miles from here so at the rate
we're travelling it will be after dark when we arrive. The time now is 3 o'clock.
42
I was on picquet last night from 12 to 2 and I was thinking as I looked up at the stars
how you would be snuggled up in bed under those same stars. Lucky stars to be able
to see you every night – I wish I could. I seem to be cut off from you when there are
no letters arriving. I don't know how you are, what is happening at home, but there's a
ray of hope – we may get some mail at Townsville when we get there.
While I think of it darling – I know I've gone a little haywire in numbering my letters.
That's because I write them whenever I can and I haven't always a note of the last
number with me. However I'm pretty sure you can follow the sequence by the dates,
this one carries the number 21 – right or wrong? I'll try harder to keep the numerical
order from now on – not that it matters much as long as you know you receive
everything I write.
I forgot to ask you to pass on the letters I wrote to Mother and David which were
included with the one to you. Nobody had any stamps to spare at yesterday so I
thought it was better to send all the correspondence in the one envelope bearing the
only stamp I had left. Hope it wasn't overweight.
Sweetheart darling there ain't nuttin more for me to say – apart from a lot of sweet
somethings from which I must refrain. But you just wait till I get back to my own ohmy-oh. For today I'll simply say cheerio my precious little wife and here's another big
kiss – From your, Me
PS does Norma miss me much? I bet the neighbours can tell by the absence of
screams that I'm not at home and what about the old baby-maker how's she doin'..
Hope to hear from both soon. Give my love to all, not forgetting withered walnuts.
Love. G.
***
5 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details, in
pencil, headed: No: 22
Dearest Marjorie, The time is 12. 30, the place is Bowen, the weather is windy but
it's not raining and we have just returned from the route march which takes the place
of PT every morning. Bowen is a dirty little railway station – town on the coast about
120 miles south of Townsville. The CO broke us off in the centre of the town proper
which is a mile or so from the station – gave us15 minutes to have a look around and
that was plenty of time to see everything. Pity we didn't have a chance to go for a
swim.
I think I finished my last letter somewhere near St Lawrence didn't I. At the next stop
I asked a lady to post it for me – I hope you got it. A little further on we got our first
thrill. Rounding a bend the train went slap bang into one of those hand trolleys the
fettlers use. Fortunately the two men on it spotted the train in time to jump clear.
Boxes, spades picks etc went flying everywhere and the trolley shot up the line like a
thunderbolt. Nobody was hurt luckily.
Next, we came to siding station boasting the name Mt Christian and of all the places
this was the one in which I was to see the most beautiful girl since I left home. There
43
she was sitting up erect on a big white horse dressed in a red blouse, khaki breeches
laced at the sides and riding boots. Her brown curls peeked out slightly from under a
large sombrero, just like they do in western stories, a typical outdoor girl with olive
brown skin, sparkling white teeth and a soft cultured voice without the slightest
affectation. We asked her how she liked living in such an out of the way place and
without hesitation she replied that she loved it and wouldn't change places with
anyone. But the convoy must go through, so we said goodbye to Dawn German – the
belle of Mt Christian – and crawled along to Mackay, where tea was served at 10. 45.
I had a shower here and went to bed feeling much refreshed after a tiring day.
The CO warned us of a cyclone and told us to batter down the hatches.. However
nothing happened during the night and this morning I got up early, cleaned up and
stood out on the back step admiring the timbered country with a background of
rugged hills. The tired old train slowly slithered into Bowen with its human cargo
crying out for breakfast – at about 11 AM. Our next meal will be at Townsville, some
eight or nine hours hence. Can you imagine what they'll be like then!
Funny thing, darling, last night I dreamt I was about to kiss you and you turned your
head away and said "Don't kiss me, you might catch my cold"; one of those little cells
in the subconscious mind opening up I suppose. Hope you are well. Later on in my
dreams I was kissing you and kissing you and kissing you – you know how I used to.
It must've been the late meal as I usually don't dream.
Before I close, sweetheart I repeat a story told to me by and American in Rocky that
forgot to tell you about it when we were there. "When we left 'Fisco ", he said, "we
were issued those gar'dammed life preservers (lifebelts) and me and my buddy stuck
to them like flies to honey. We slept with 'em, we ate and played in 'em. We never let
them out of our sight for a second. When we went ashore they were very carefully
stowed out of harms way and so they could be grabbed the moment we came aboard.
We surely treated those babies better than our best friends. Then we reached
Brisbane and with a sigh of relief we pulled them off and heaved them overboard.
Well fellas, believe it or not, those goddamned things sank straight to the bottom and
that's the earnest gospel truth fellahs"
Well you can't disbelieve a guy when he's given you a cigarette or two can you. And
he told it a lot better than my version.
The train stopped a few minutes ago and a kindhearted lady came out with some
cakes and milk for the boys. The cakes were lovely and the milk – well the milk was
what mother nature put inside a goat – have you ever tasted goats milk? It taste like
the stuff you get out of coconuts mixed with cows milk- can't say I'm crazy about it.
So, sweet darling, I come to the end of another letter. I never ask how you are
managing financially down there as I know you'll let me know if necessary. You've
still got a little in the old oak chest to tide you over difficult periods haven't you?
Hope GPs are coming across as usual maybe there will be a half yearly bonus soon.
Cheerio now darling wife. All the love in the world from, Your Me.
***
6 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details or sign
44
of censorship, in pencil, headed: No: 23
Dearest Marjorie, Of all the towns we’ve touched upon in our journey I think that
Ayr has been the most hospitable. All day yesterday we travelled on the two
sandwiches and cup of coffee meal we had at Bowen. So you can imagine how
hungry everyone was when we reached Ayr at 7 o'clock. The train halted up for about
20 minutes and in that time we met some real "Dinky-dies". Down they came with
loaves of bread, jam and all manner of things. Even a bottle of Lindeman's Sherry
which I helped to consume. You should have heard the cheers from the boys when we
left. Ayr is in a sugarcane district but they seem to go in for a considerable amount of
cotton farming here, too. It is in the flooded area and has suffered pretty badly by the
looks of things. I've never seen so much water in the wrong place – you couldn't
believe the skies could hold it. The rivers we crossed are now back in their original
courses, generally speaking, but the floodwater marks, debris et cetera are very much
in evidence. Nobody seems to think this is extraordinary so I presume it's quite a
regular thing in the rainy season.
I slept most of the afternoon as I was beginning to get bored with the same type of
scenery and the crawling pace of the train. However I did sit up and take notice when
we reached the Burdekin River which had been the cause of our delay. Where we
crossed, this waterway is nearly half a mile wide – of that width only a small part is
the river proper. The rest is shallows, a couple of inches deep. I was told that the
Burdekin was 4 miles wide at one part during the rains. The way across is not a bridge
exactly but a railway track on raised piles which go down to a depth of 80 feet, I
understand. The whole track is underwater in flood time.
After the sherry had been finished off, I went back to bed and didn't wake until we
arrived at Stewart about 6 miles out of Townsville. Here we were given a typical
army feed at 15 minutes past midnight. At 1.45 AM we reached Townsville – a huge
dirty stinking railway station littered with baggage, mailbags and sleeping soldiers
with kitbags. No mail for us though.
I strolled around the station for about five minutes to find out what was doing and
then back to bed. Couldn't see the town at that time of the night. Got up with the sun
this morning – one of the most beautiful mornings I've ever experienced. Not a cloud
in the sky and a panorama of a huge undulating plain, dotted with cane farms with a
backdrop of high wooded blue hills. This is Ingham.
Every now and then we pass over pretty little streams boarded by deep green foliage.
Everything is green and fertile. On we go through miles of this lovely country to
Caldwell by the sea – and breakfast at 9.45, sausages, bread and butter and tea. We
hoped to get a glimpse of the Barrier Reef – but it's too far out to sea. All we catch
sight of are a few islands near shore. Which brings me up-to-date for the moment.
On to Tully – the place near where the little girl was taken by a crocodile three weeks
ago. A charming little place situated on the river bearing the same name –
approximately 20 miles from the coast. Innesfail next, Where we de-train. Must say
goodbye now, and catch post. Will write again tomorrow Darling. Until then
sweetheart all my love and a big kiss from your, Me.
PS I had a lovely dream last night darling. Really thought I was home again, tell you
later.
45
***
7 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details or sign
of censorship, in pencil, headed[ also]: No: 23.
[According to Likeman (at 83), this section of the unit was moved to Ravenshoe where
they arrived at 10 PM , only to find nothing was ready for them. An MDS,( Main
dressing Station) was to be established 5 kms. out of town on the Mt Garnet Road and
close to Millstream Falls. This was all virgin bush in 1943 and the unit had to clear
the land to set up its own camp.]
My Dearest Marjorie, Here we are, dumped on the east side of the Gulf – buried in
the tropics for maybe the next 10 months – then a well-earned leave my darling.
Before I go on to give you a rough idea of this place, let me finish the journey out to
here. I think I left you last as we were nearing Innesfail.
That district must be one of the richest in Queensland and one of the prettiest. For
miles, as far as the eye can see, are beautiful green cane fields, broken in patches by
clumps of trees which surround the homesteads with their bright red roofs. The soil is
a brick red loam and contrasted with the green of the cane, makes an unbelievable
picture. Where the young cane is just shooting up, the colour becomes a lovely pastel
shade which dress material designers could well afford to copy.
However we are anxious to find out what's next and what our new job is going to be
and so we reach the town of Innesfail where the trucks are juggled off the train. A cup
of tea and a slice of bread at the Showground and the convoy starts its track across the
range. We are told that the road is dangerous and we prepare ourselves for a rough
ride. On this route we barely touch the town so I can't tell you anything about it.
Colin is driving for the first 10 miles and I'm sitting in the back, seeing where we've
went. More cane fields and then - into the jungle. But it's a jungle you would love.
Here the dense undergrowth comes right up to the edge of the narrow tarred road. I
think we must be running parallel to some sort of a stream or creek, which is
completely obscured – I'm told New Guinea jungle is not as dense as this.
I take over the wheel and now I get a better look-see. Tall stately trees are sticking
their long necks out of this undergrowth. From their tops, vines come down straight as
halyards from a ship's mast. Bananas growing wild right on the road – beautiful ferns,
Stag Horns, and all kinds of tropical vegetation make this a real fairyland. I think,
how lovely this Garden of Eden would be if only my Eve were here. I shall write and
tell her that her wish for a nice spot for me has been granted.
On we go up the narrow winding road, climbing more than 2000 feet. Surely we must
strike the bad road very soon – but no.
Upon the tablelands the scenery is entirely different and is very similar to the country
around Campbelltown. Over on the right is a high range with its peaks enveloped in
clouds – must be some of the highest in Australia. Here and there are shacks and
homes with their cattle – goodness knows how they exist in these out-of-the-way parts.
We are still climbing over these grassy hills – 3000 feet. The air is cool and I begin to
wonder how many blankets I'll need. Now we are at the top and we admire the
glorious tropical sunset which is past describing.
I put the old Blitz into top gear for the roll down to the town below – Milla-Milla or
46
some such name – and I think, if our destination is like this I won't be able to growl.
Through the township where the whole population turns up to wave to the soldiers,
and up the hills on the other side. Gradually the scenery is becoming less attractive,
everywhere is bare, half burned logs litter the paddocks, broken down shacks vomit
dirty looking kids, dilapidated fences made look the worse by the fading twilight.
We reach our journey's end in the pitch black night and spend an hour shuffling
around the long grass trying to find a suitable place to park the trucks. We must be
careful as there are big logs well hidden in the green growth. Officers and men
running around with lanterns and torches looking for gear – and they are all cranky
and hungry. Iron rations are served with tea and feeling very disillusioned I go to my
stretcher.
This morning, there is a general sorting out of things and we transfer our gear to the
tents. Pross, Joe, Allen Willoughby, Billy Kelly19, self and Ronnie Dymant are
together again. Frank Starr is trying another team.
The weather today is rather hot but of course the height keeps the temperature down.
It would be about 90° I should say. I can't say much about the camp except that we
are going to establish a Convalescent Hospital and it looks like a lot of hard work
ahead. The country around this part is like the wooded Windsor area only much hotter
and it's nearly 2000 miles from home. I'll tell you more about it later on darling, in
fact I'll have time to examine every tree and blade of grass and give you a full
description.
By the way I hope I haven't been too boring with my poor accounts of the places
along the way – but we didn't meet any raiders to write about. Give my love to all and
come here and give me a big kiss, ever your one and only, Me.
***
8 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details or sign
of censorship, in pencil, headed: No:24.
Dearest Marjorie, About half an hour after I had sealed yesterday's letter a loud cry
went up in the camp. "There's a big bag of mail in the Orderly Room." Practically
everybody made a bee-line for that spot and patiently waited until it had been sorted. I
was very happy to get three from you, (3, 9,10) and one from Dulcie. I have now
received yours numbered 3,5,6,7, 9,10 (10 dated 31 December 1942) which leaves
1,2,4,and 8 outstanding, also registered letter still to come. I think I have answered
most of the questions in the last batch but I'll read through them again just to make
sure I haven't overlooked anything – hold on, dear.
Yes there are a few things I have to answer. Firstly I haven't been allotted an NX
number yet so keep on using the old address until I let you know, differently.
Secondly, don't worry about my eating – I can always look after myself. And tell
Norma I can make do with half teaspoon full of sugar now, (apropos her remark re my
sugar eating capacities), the twirp. Thirdly, you shall have a snap of your grasshopper
at the earliest possible opportunity and I'd love to have another picture of you. Make
sure that it is small though as I believe everything must be stowed in waterproof
material – in the forward areas – if we ever get there.
47
I'm sorry to hear Dad and Mum are having a bout of their old troubles (your letter
December 30). Let's hope the New Year brings them better luck which I'm sure will
go a long way to improve their health. Norma didn't mention anything about her
"nerves" in her letter but if she's feeling jittery like that, my advice to her is a small
investment in a tin of Andrews Liver Salts (free ad). I got a tin in a parcel from the
office girls and it seems to keep me "extra fit". I don't suffer with "nerves" but Army
tucker must give the old system bit of a bashing around. (You should get a tin too
dear I think if you keep the old liver functioning it will help your eyes. Mine are very
much improved lately).
Perhaps the "something new has been added" on the third finger, right hand and it has
made all the difference. If so please give my sweetie Norma a big kiss for me, also
Brucie. My best wish for them is that they be as happy and lucky in love as ourselves.
I will write to both of them when I get official confirmation as they say.
Dear, I'll never forget the apple tree, in fact I'll steal it for you and transplant it to
where we can look at it for the rest of our lives.
I can't recall John Story or Peter but I probably have met them at some time. It's
dreadful to think that so many young lives are cut down – and for what gain? The
world's poorer for the passing of those brave young men no matter what side they are
on – I can't understand why it must be so.
Thank you, darling, for the New Year's wishes – it will be the happiest if I can get
back to see you and hold you in my arms again – you know that don’t you!
I hope uncle Tony has recovered and is out of hospital – I expect Auntie Ethel is very
worried and would find you a comfort to her as well as an invaluable help. It is most
unfortunate that this should have occurred at this time isn't it.
When you speak about your trip to Manly it takes me right back to Sydney. I can just
imagine you sitting on the crowded boat with the holiday people – all jabbering away
at the same time – and the Yank sailors lolling all over the girls, the chocolate icecream boys pushing their way around and the tin can band with the bloke what rattles
the box under your nose. I bet your mother scratched at the bottom of her purse trying
to find a penny-hapenny– two coins that make you feel like a millionaire giving a
hand-out, when they drop into the slot.
Oh, I almost forgot darling. Be very pleased to sing at the wedding – would the bride
like "Down by the railroad tracks" or "Chase me Charlie" – though maybe I should do
a little violining instead.
I can hear a lot of shouting and laughing going on over the way,- sounds as if the
picture is good. The mobile movie is here tonight and all the lads are over there
getting an eyeful. I'm trying to catch up on my correspondence. I must answer
Dulcie's very nice letter – I didn't know I was so popular – just wait till I get back,
your sisters will be sorry.
Last night: I walked 3 miles to a Post Office to get stamps and 3 miles back. Well,
that's what love does to yer. Today we marched for two hours, shifted logs, went for a
48
swim in a newly discovered river, (new to us), pitched tents etc. That's why I can't
find time to write much to anyone but you. But now for Dulcie, so goodbye my
darling sweetheart with all my love George
PS. Don't get alarmed if the mail is irregular. I understand it takes a week or more to
get to Sydney. Love to mother and all.
***
11 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details or
sign of censorship, in pencil, headed [also]: No:24.
Dearest Marjorie, I didn't drop you a line yesterday as I had a busy day on the truck,
washing clothes and a long trip to Atherton, 52 miles away. We have moved the tents
three times since arriving but things seem to be settling down now. This place
improves on acquaintance and I think we could be in a lot worse perhaps than this
part. Our tent is pitched among the timber so it's a nice shady spot. There’s a little
grass struggling through the fallen leaves and we are doing our best to preserve it to
keep the dust low. We are not very far from the river which is a lovely mountain
stream, clear as crystal – before the boys dip their bodies. This morning Colin and I
took the ambulance down to a ford and chucked a few buckets of water in it to get the
dust out of it. Then we took the plunge and had a sunbake – oh boy what a life!
But it's not all beer and skittles. The CEO takes the unit for a route march every
morning and I can tell you when we get back we're soaking wet with perspiration and
dead beat. I shouldn't have any surplus fat when I come home, dear. I wrote to Cecil
and mentioned about an accident Pross was in. I had very few details so I asked him
not to mention it at home as it may have caused some unnecessary alarm. I would
have let them know immediately if anything serious had happened. It appears the
party of drivers were travelling along the road to Cairns and the vehicle was taken too
close to the edge of the road which collapsed with the weight. Over she went, making
two or three rolls, to be held up from a steep drop by a log or something. Weren’t they
lucky!
Little Billy Kelly had to get sick stitches in his head, also Kevin Ryan. Another cove,
Jack Shortey, broke his arm and hurt his back. The rest were uninjured except for a
few small cuts about their faces. Pross looks as though he grazed his face and of
course is touching wood. In one way, it is most fortunate that this accident occurred
for it taught us not to drive so close to the side of what otherwise are excellent
roads.20
I drove halfway to Atherton yesterday with a couple of malaria cases from NG and
although the road is very twisty and steep the surface is excellent and the trip is most
enjoyable. In one part, the road runs through heavily wooded country and the trees
form an archway. At night this section is swarming with fireflies – not a few but
thousands. They flit around the undergrowth like sparks from a fire. We had the
windshields up and they came in on us so we pulled up the ambulance to have a closer
look. Well I've heard about fireflies, talked about them and even sung their praises but
this is the first time I really held one in my hand. Just a little black beetle-ly looking
49
insect which becomes a Cinderella when its wings are raised. Underneath its body is
illuminated with what appears to be indirect lighting. I suppose it's phosphorus or
something.
Flash! The mail's just arrived and I've just received your number 11 letter (dated
2/1/42) and the registered one, (envelope enclosed for souvenir of postmarks). Also
letters from Norma, Bruce and two from the office. I don't know when I'll be able to
answer them all – my urgent mailing list now amounts to 11 names.
I have been staving off a siege for the last two weeks owing to a slight miscalculation,
a loss of 2 ounces of tobacco and the exorbitant cost of Bombo in Rocky. However, I
haven't gone without a smoke and there's no shops handy to spend money but with the
10 bob I’ll be able to square up my old debts and have my full pay on Thursday to
play with. Actually I'm a wealthy soldier now.
Your letters number 2 and 4 have reached me at last – number 8 should turn up any
day. It's rather awkward trying to answer them when they are so mixed up so I'll be as
brief as possible.
Don't worry about my private licence – attach a note saying I’m in the Army and
won't require it until after the war. Norma might drop it into the Traffic Office for me
– or post it. The stamps (six) you sent are most welcome. You may have gathered
from enclosures in previous letters how acute was the shortage due to lack of
"mazuma", chiefly.
Glad to hear the beans were so successful – s’pose the spud shortage is a thing of the
past. Hope by this time, Tony is better and home and you are sleeping in our little bed.
Wish I was there to keep you from being lonesome.
Pross has asked me to tell Mother that he received the wired money in Brisbane and
has just got the telegram from Rockhampton. He had to wire there to get them
forwarded onto Ravenshoe. Will you pass that on, darling.
And that is where I must finish or I’ll never get this letter away. Next time I'll try to
give you a little news if I can. The office tells me Jack Davey and Kitty Bluett have
been asked by PMG to show reason why they should not be banned from air for
saying naughty things. Looks like Mr Patterson's been having a busy time keeping the
news out of the papers. I wouldn't like to see anything go wrong with the ColgatePalmolive business as it means butter for the bread doesn't it?
Now I really must go. All my love to you, sweetest little girl in the world and a great
big good night kiss for you, Ever your own, Me.
PS. I'm quite happy here with quite a good job to do but of course I miss you very
much. Won’t we make up for these lost days later on. Love. G.
***
13 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details or
sign of censorship, in pencil, headed: No:25.
Dearest Marjorie, I have just come in from the bathroom after having a lovely hot
50
bath and doing my daily rinse. Oh baby, you should see the colour scheme – green
tonings with relief in grey and black columns and the floor is a mixture of autumn
shades. Isn't it lovely to feel clean after a hot dusty day? We set out for Atherton this
morning and the weather was perfect just like those clear fresh mornings at Leura,
remember? As the day wore on it became hotter and the dusty roads up in the hills
made things a bit less pleasant – still I love the trip and never get tired (so far) of the
beautiful scenery which unfolds itself at almost every turn in the road.
Darling, I can’t post this letter tonight so I'm going to postpone writing it until after
the pictures. The mobile unit is screening "Theodora goes Wild", an old'un.
22:00 hours (that's 10 PM). It was a good show dear – one of Irene Dunn's best I'd say.
I had a good laugh. Did you see it one Wednesday afternoon?
My luck was in today's sweetheart. I received your letters number 1, 2, 12 also an
airmail one from mother. I felt quite sad when I read about your tears and I kissed the
pages. It brought back memories of my letter writing on the train – but, don't forget,
tears are out for the duration.
I'm lying on my duck-board battling this out, Darling and I'm afraid I'm losing. Pross,
Joe and Alan are having a good old chat and it's very distracting. Better sign out for
tonight.
Thursday. Sorry I didn't finish last night as there is a truck leaving right now and I
want this to get to you quickly to make up for lost time. Will write again tonight but
really there's nothing new darling. Give my love to all at 27 and Wolseley Street.
Pross got a parcel from Teenie last night and are we doing right by it. Will write to
Huntley's Pt. at the earliest possible moment and thank them. Let them know we are
both in the pink in this hot but extremely healthy climate.
My usual big kiss to you my sweetheart darling. I’ll be longing for the day I get back.
Always your own, Me
PS I'm covered in grease so please excuse hurry and grubbiness. Love, G
***
14 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details or
sign of censorship, in pencil, not numbered.
Dearest Marjorie, Hope it's a hot day in Drummoyne because I want to make your
little rosebud mouth "water". I'll just try to describe the little scene before me. Stop
me if I bore you, (how can you?).
Imagine a dark tan tent pitched in among smallish saplings with big trees interspersed
about every 15 yards. The ground is covered with fallen leaves and a little wiry grass
feebly struggles through them (pardon rep).Tent flaps are rolled as the sole occupant
planters up to review the picture. On the left side in the near distance you can see
another tent in which there are four or five nearly naked bodies thoroughly enjoying
themselves in the believe of a summer's night. Not so far away a truck is at rest,
carefully camouflaged by the greenery; closer a clothesline stretches between two
saplings and on it are two pairs of green pants, two pairs of socks, two-shirts, two
towels and a hanky. My washing! Just besides these, NOT Persil washed whites and
coloureds on a rough stand, are various items of men's toilet gear. A fire is
51
smouldering beneath the level of the ground, on the right, less than fifty yards away is
hospital marquee and another blitz waggon (note uncertainty of spelling). A big halfburned black tree trunk lies in the writer's line of vision and strange to say(?), it looks
very picturesque.
The man in the tent is clad only in a pair of jungle green slacks – and he smiles to
himself and wonders if his beloved will think he's gone mad with the heat. Six 3-ply
bed-boards stretch out around him – each containing the gear of his mates – each is
stowed differently and reflects the personality of its owner. Tomorrow morning
everything will be uniform, (perhaps).
Now comes the most interesting (?) part of the story. And the part that is to give you a
funny thirsty feeling in the tummy. Two bottles of cool amber -coloured sparkling
Castlemaine XXXX Bitter Ale and a half emptied bottle at the elbow of this lone
drinker! In a white panicking in his left hand the amber-coloured nectar but it's frothy
topmast, lies awaiting to delight his now nearly parched throat. In other words ,
Darling I have just purchased three bottles of beer and I'm about to consume them.
And it's not the alcohol that makes the writing so bad – I'm scribbling in the dark. I'll
have to get a candle before I can continue.
Two drinks later. The candle measures three quarters of an inch deep so I'll have to
hurry up and finish. Pross and Joe Young are out on-the-job goodness knows when
they'll be back. Hope it is soon, as their refreshments are very tempting and I feel like
a camel about to take its supply on board. Billy Kelly is still in hospital and probably
will be there for a few weeks. Ron Dymant is in the MDS down with an attack of flu
or something. The other chap Allan Willoughby is over near the source of supply,
getting a glow. Can't you tell its Pay Day – we feel like millionaires. I can hear lusty
voices singing "Happy birthday to you". Somebody's 21 again!
Ding Dong is sitting in the ambulance writing to his dear one and he has asked me to
convey his kindest regards to you. You would smile if you could see him when he
gets a letter from her. He laughs out loud and I can see he wants me to ask what the
joker is. Sometimes I do and he almost tells me – then wonders if he should. He's
what I call an exhibitionist like most "only children".
At that stage the candle keeled over and now I'm in the ambulance continuing. All
around I can hear voices singing and talking – it's the grog. All night. Sounds like
New Year's Night at Kings Cross. A quiet tenor has just finished singing "When they
sound the last all clear" and now the rowdy element takes over with "Bless 'em all"
using the usual verb as a substitute for "Bless".
Enough of the frivolity and let's get down to a bit of news. Yesterday we (Pross and I)
discovered that Len Bass has been within a half mile of us and we didn't know. We
made enquiries and found that he'd gone on leave the previous night. You may see
him and be able to tell him we are up here. Maybe we'll see him when he gets back.
Pross was very disappointed but hopes we'll be altogether in the future.
Will close here, darling, as I have a job to do. Duty ambulance tomorrow so should be
able to get this to you sooner than I expected. Sweetheart, there's one word I think we
should cut out of our letters and that's "worry". Do you agree? We're not going to
worry about each other, any more, are we? We're both in good hands and all the
52
worry in the world doesn't help. So we'll just have our thoughts and memories and
keep the corners of our mouths up until they stay that way, always. You know I'm
always thinking of you and loving you and longing for the time to come when we are
together again. Every night before I go to sleep, I try to imagine what you are doing
and I always seem to picture you walking across our little bedroom about to put out
the light. The way you half-turn to guide you back to my side darkness and your soft
little person snuggling up alongside of me and your embrace. It seems real when I
think like that.
Good night, my darling wife, I love you so much, words can't express how I feel but I
know you will understand. Happy days will be here again before long so until then
dear, carry on with a smile. Always yours only, Me.
PS. A letter arrived from Drummoyne today for Pross – looks like Jude's writing. The
goodies they sent us in the parcel are being enjoyed immensely. If you see Teenie tell
her I'm writing tomorrow or next day. Love to all. A big good night kiss darling,
George. PPS excuse my awful writing – your neat letters make me feel ashamed. G.
***
15 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details or
sign of censorship, in pencil, not numbered.
Dearest Marjorie,
I have just arrived back from Atherton; the time is about 9 o'clock, it's drizzling with
rain and I've just finished reading your letter number 13 dated January 7. I'm sorry I
didn't think to tell you sooner not to renew my private driving licence but it doesn't
matter as I may be able to use it some time this year – I hope. However it's no good
anywhere outside NSW so you may as well hold it for me.
What a pity the photographs didn't turn out as they should have. I ought to have
ordered them before I left but perhaps you didn't remember I told you to ring Miss
Green or someone at the office. They would have looked after your interests quite
gladly I'm sure. The cost 33 shillings plus 3s 8d super is definitely not right though of
course you wouldn't get any discount unless the account was paid through the office.
If you don't feel like seeing them at GPs get into touch with Miss Sambells or Noel
Rubie himself and explain the position. Perhaps there is some misunderstanding and
you are quite right in kicking if you're not satisfied with the job. You shouldn't have
to pay much more than three shillings for each photograph. Alternative suggestion is
to ring Miss Green and give her the story. Ask her if she will take up the matter with
Miss Sambells and see if she can get the invoice put through GPs – with Miss Poste's
permission. Just say "George asked me to ring you". Tell her to let them know I'm up
in North Queensland and that the parcel arrived safely also Christmas Card and I'm
writing as soon as I get a chance. We've been working up to 11 and 12 o'clock at night
but when we get on top of this job I should have a little more time to answer the big
pile of mail that arrived all at the one time. In fact, that is a fact generally speaking
Wasn't it a shame we didn't get the opportunity to see "Reap the Wild Wind" together
as we had planned. Still I'm glad you went to see it and enjoyed it. I thought it would
be a good show. Was it a weepie or a creepie or a deepie I've got an idea the deepie
about hits the mark with not very much laughiie. Say, what started this. And while
we are on the subject of entertainment, the Divisional Revue company moved in
53
today so they should help to keep up the old morale especially if they are as good as
the First Division Concert Party.
And these girls whom I can treat to a squeezy-wheezy (Stop that George), where are
they? Maybe I should make love to a little bit of black velvet which I see around in
my travels – or a nice kind-looking cow. Seriously, darling I don't want anyone but
you – and perhaps Norma. ("George, Dada will go mad if Norma doesn't stop
screaming).
So the old "withered Walnuts" is having her worries and trouble. I wish I was
somewhere near and I'd certainly make her giggle in my own inimitable way. I
answered her letter the other day. Everything happens "the other day" as I can't keep
track of days and dates without consulting the records.
How is Betty and the addition. Tell her I said it's about time she put on a bit of weight.
Those calves could be turned out of the paddock for a while.
And Norma, I bet she never wears a glove on the right-hand, now. She hasn't given
me a description of the "ice" yet but Bruce wrote and told me they were starters in the
"ball and chain" event and I wrote a joint letter offering my deepest regrets to both.
Your remarks about not wearing wet clothes brought to mind a passage in Mother's
last letter "and my dears keep clean and take medicine". I had to smile. We've had that
drummed into us for the last 10 months until we dreamt about it.
Wet clothes don't stay that way very long up here, darling but I promise to look after
this body very carefully and bring it back to you without any chills and things.
I'm feeling a bit tired, darling girl so I think I'll climb aboard the nightmare waggon. I
had intended to drop mother a line but I couldn't prop open my eyes that long. When
you go down give her a kiss for me – say I'm getting a letter under way for her. Give
my love to the families and explain for me how hard it is to write to everyone. Good
night my little sweetheart wife and sweet dreams. Here's that big kiss, Always Yours,
George.
PS. Next time you are in Woolworths will you see if you can get me a writing pad of
thinnish paper. Only this thick paper is available here and even then it's hard to get.
There's no hurry as I have plenty on hand at present. Love, G.
***
16 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details or
sign of censorship, in pencil, headed: No:26 ( I think).
Dearest Marjorie, When I arrived back in the early hours of this morning your letter
No: 14 was waiting for me and it was a good stimulant. Glad to know you did
something about the photographs – didn't say anything about the cost but I explained
what to do in my last letter which will probably reach you (airmail) before you see
Noel Rubie again. If there is any bitch about a refund, I'll write to somebody at GPs
and get it fixed up. "Bobs" -knows them pretty well and she'd get a bit of action from
the dopey twirps.
Darling, you sound a little disappointed at not receiving a letter from me in two days.
54
You mustn't get that way dear, sometimes there may be a much longer period in
between, for obvious reasons. Don't try to read between the lines as I don't know of
any alteration in arrangements.
The stamps were very welcome, especially in book form. Will you thank Auntie Ethel
for me. Tell her I enquired about Tony and herself.
Sunday, January 17. I didn't have a chance to finish this letter yesterday so I
postponed until today. We went on leave in the afternoon – a "busman's holiday".
Went for a ride in the ambulance to Atherton. Pross, Frank Starr and I had an
excellent meal, steak, two eggs chips and sliced tomatoes – done to liking. Then we
decided, (Frank did), to poke our noses in at the local hop where a dozen or so VAD
lasses were seen wending their way. It looked a good night for the dancers but we
were far from base and had to make sure of our means of conveyance. Same arrived
so we reluctantly withdrew, especially Frank, and proceeded on our way. Right out in
the middle of nowhere, it seemed we heard the strains of music being played on a
piano and sax. So investigated and found a little dance in progress in which we were
cordially invited to join. Surprising thing about this district is the number of, not plain
girls, I was going to say "pretty" or something like that, but I thought you might
misunderstand me. But it's a fact and I suppose the extremely healthy climate can be
credited.
I'm on duty myself today. Colin Bell has gone to hospital with his bad knee and that
means I'm resting my eardrums a little. Joe Young was coming with me but changed
his mind at the last moment.
Later. Since writing that last sentence I've driven over to the A G H and am
continuing in the men's mess. Had a couple of pretty bad malarias aboard and it was
rather a worrying trip. Poor blighters. I hope I never get it.
I called in to see Ding Dong and was greeted with a loud cheery welcome, "Hello my
friend how are you?" as if I hadn't seen him in years. I just looked embarrassed and
said "How are you Col". "Come back Georgy pal and let's have a yarn" he went on etc
so I'll have to go down and kiss him goodbye.
Well dear Marjorie that's all I have to say for now. I'm expecting to get back early
today and attack my fan mail and I must go. All my love my precious little darling
and that great big kiss from your husband, George
***
18 January 1943. On threepenny Lettercard, without identifying details or sign of
censorship, in pencil, not numbered.
Dearest Marjorie, Couldn't let this opportunity of writing to you slip. I thought I
would be at the MDS all day but a lot more patients came in so here I am again at the
AGH. It's been very hot up to now (4 o'clock) and large raindrops are beginning to
fall-going to get a heavy storm I think. Well I don't mind a bit if it rains, hails or
snows. I'm quite happy. You should see the good sort of VAD standing over near the
tent opposite – wouldn't mind doing her over. Who said that?
55
Well darling the scribble is just to say "hello" as time does not permit a lengthy letter.
How are you sweetheart and how is everyone. Give them all my love won't you. I
wish I could come down and kiss you like I used to baby. But don't mind, I’ll make up
for it someday. Lots of love and kisses from your, George. PS we've got a Capt. with
us and he wants to get back in a hurry.
***
20 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details or
sign of censorship, in pencil, headed: No:28.
Dearest Marjorie, I'm covered from head to foot with grease and oil so if this letter
gets a bit grubby, please don't mind.
Col Bell is in hospital still and I have to do all work myself. After washing out the
rear cabin yesterday at the stream I came back and had to go straight away out to the
hospital with three stretcher cases. I couldn't get a letter card and I didn't have time to
write a letter as I didn't return until 11:45 PM. The previous night, I received your two
letters 15 and 16 and number 17 was waiting for me last night and I wasn't too tired to
read it.
I suppose you told Len Bass that we had discovered his unit was here and I expect
we'll be seeing him when he gets back from leave.
There's no time at the moment for me to read through the last three of the letters and
I'm not sure if you want me to answer anything. I remember you asked if there was
anything I wanted – the only thing I can think of at the moment is films for the little
Bakelite camera, 127 is the size I believe but checkup and send a few if you possibly
can. One of our fellows has one of those cameras but there are no films available in
the district. Occasionally, I would like to get a copy of one of the Sydney newspapers
– not regularly but perhaps you could send one when something startling breaks. It
may reach me! I'll write more fully later darling – this is merely a stopgap. So until
then my sweetheart wife, Goodbye and don't forget. I'm longing for the sound of the
old village bells. All my love and two big kisses, (1 for yesterday), from
your soldier, George.
PS I'll write to Teenie within the next couple of days for sure. How are the letters
coming through to you?
***
21 January 1943. On a margined exercise book style, lined writing pad paper, without
identifying details or sign of censorship, in pencil, not numbered.
Dearest Marjorie, This morning I finished off the big job on the truck and was able to
get on the front of the parade before mess and so had a few minutes to spare before
the 2 o'clock parade. I let you have a long talk to me during that time – I just sat back
and took it all in. It's the first time I’ve had an opportunity of placing all your letters
in numbered order and going through them like that. Of course I read each one at least
three times and probably read them again and again – they’re so lovely. You say,
several times, there’s no news – but anything that concerns you is news to me, even a
flicker of your little eyelashes. I long to hear about you – how you feel, what you do,
what you think. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to know you are happy and
56
enjoying yourself. So keep me well informed, darling, and by the way, you are the
one who is the writer in our family. I can almost hear the sound of your voice in the
lines you’ve written and that gives me a pleasant feeling which I can't describe.
How I wish you could be with me here, now that the moon has reached its full! Out
on the road sometimes I pull up the ambulance for a rest and get out to stretch my legs.
Everything is so peaceful and quiet. Soft moonlight on the hills gives them an unreal
appearance and in the background the Range looks black and foreboding. Some
animal crashes through the thick undergrowth close by, probably a kangaroo. A
curlew utters its uncanny cry, then another bird sings and sounds like a Nightingale.
It's eerie, but you would love these tropical tablelands at night, even if their quietness
is almost frightening. When you look up into the heavens you seem to be in this world
alone with your thoughts and God – and you feel very small – that's the end of my
soliloquy.
Pross is sending a copy of the North Queensland Register home which carries a few
pictures of these parts but really the places are only tourist attractions and the
photographs fail to capture the beauty of the range and the loveliness of the trees and
green hills. The other day I witnessed a tropical Queensland storm for the first time
and it was magnificent. Suddenly the sky became inky black and then a vivid flash of
lightning and deafening reports of thunder. Several times the lightning thrust its
prongs into the hills followed by thunder cracks – then the rain. Well it just came
down like a waterfall. In 15 minutes the sun was shining through the clouds in long
beams – a little more rain and then blue skies once more.
Next time I strike a storm I'm going to take out a pencil and make a ball to ball
description of it. Some of the boys have just come in with the skin of a kangaroo they
shot – I think it's such a shame. The poor things are that tame they almost eat out of
your hand and there are plenty of them. Down the stream, another crowd have a
crocodile which they swear they killed nearby. I don’t know whether to believe it or
not but anyway I'm going to be a bit particular when I swim just in case. Every day
someone is bringing in a new discovery, scorpions, big spiders, butterflies and all
kinds of "creepy" things. I just long to stand behind the little group that gathers and
touch them with a pointed stick and see them jump. Pross and Joe get "nervy" at night
when they hear strange noises around the tent. I've been disturbed a couple of times to
find them making an investigation with the hurricane lamp – it's very amusing.
And now to finish with a little about me, darling. I haven't had a haircut for a month
and my hair has grown down the back of my neck and ears – you know how. I'm
feeling "extra good" and this climate should add years to my life. Pross is also a
picture of health. The variation in temperature in 24 hours makes this place ideal for a
hospital and rest camp.
At times I get very lonely for you and I sit and try to imagine what you are doing at
that moment, (I've said that before) and I wonder how long it will be before I see you
again. What fun we’ll have then won't we? There’s a lot more I'd like to say that
perhaps I shouldn't. So I'll leave it at that.
Give my love to all your family and also Mother and Judy and all down there. Tell
them we're doing fine. A big hug squeeze and "you know what sort of" kiss from your
soldier boy, George
57
PS. Your last letter was number 17. Haven't had any further for a couple of days now.
This is 22/1/1943.
***
23 January 1943. On Salvation Army Red Shield Service for Australian Troops
Letterhead writing pad paper, without identifying details or sign of censorship, in
pencil, headed: No:27.
Dearest Marjorie, I think I have just got time to scribble you a few words before
starting out on the usual trip. First of all are you getting my letters regularly? I'm still
at sea with the numbering but I think you can work out whether you’ve received all of
them.
Yesterday I got a letter from Hughie and also the one you sent from Mitch, nothing
from you for a few days apart from that.
Hughie has been having a pretty rough trot with his health. Tells me he’s messed
around with "quacks" for months and was treated for all sorts of ailments. Finally
consulted a London specialist who spotted the trouble right away – Infantile Paralysis.
Is that a shock to you? He then went on to say he hoped he wouldn't be permanently
disabled. It's a wonder they don't send him back isn't it. In spite of all this trouble he
seems to be very cheerful and enjoying himself. Has a little nest up in London and
intends to take a flat near a tavern called "Parade" wherein dwells a beautiful young
barmaid tagged with the name of "Mary". You know! You know! (Quoted). Still the
same old Hughie with his spicy bits of information.
Mitch seems a bit homesick doesn't he and fed up with flying. What a contrast with
Hugh. Mitch spends his time with "a friend of the old man's" and does a bit of
gardening and plenty of eating. I wonder! I wonder! Strangely enough although these
boys are often only a few miles from each other they seldom meet. I suppose it is hard
to make the leaves coincide. Hughie mentions that he’s been appointed to a top job in
his branch and hopes he can hold it down. I thought that going would go a long way
in promotion.
There’s a bit of activity going on outside so I have to get along. How are you,
Sweetheart, and how is everyone? I suppose it's hot and muggy in Sydney these days.
Up here the day is very hot but it's a dry heat and last night I slept in my birthday suit
and shivered. I haven't been able to partake of any of the picture shows or revue
company turnouts around camp as I've been either working or writing but I'm going to
try to have a look-see tonight.
All my love, my darling wife, and a hug and squeeze and kisses from, Your Own, Me.
PS Walker said to wish you a happy Christmas and New Year. Tell those sisters of
yours they both owe me a letter. Love, G.
***
25 January 1943. On Australian Red Cross Society letterhead, lined writing pad
paper, without identifying details or sign of censorship, in pencil, headed: No:29 (?).
58
Dearest Marjorie, It's now five days, I think since your last letter arrived and it looks
as if there's another hold-up somewhere but I haven't heard of any floods. I didn't
write yesterday, dear, because I was rushing around with patients and things and
didn't have time. Been finishing at 11 or 12 PM for the last four nights and this night
driving is a bit strenuous. However, I've been sleeping in until breakfast and I'm free
for this afternoon. So it's not so bad. My washing is done and here's an opportunity to
catch up with my correspondence.
My AIF number came through a couple of days ago and so that you'll be sure I'll give
you my full address:
NX 142225
Dvr. G. E. Seagrove
9th Field Ambulance
Australia. A I F
[ The issue of this number came more than 2 months after the date recorded on
George’s Army file, 15 November 1942]
Ding Dong Bell is still in hospital with his leg and it looks as if he will be boarded,
which means he may be transferred to another unit. Ronnie Dymant is now my
offsider as well as tent-mate and we should make a good team. Ron (generally known
as Dina) is a rough diamond but a good fellah and easy-going – might have to whip
him along a bit to get things done. For some unknown reason he's tickled pink to be
with me.
Things are pretty quiet today and I'm sitting around the back of the Ambulance in my
trunks. Just before lunch I had a hot bath in the bowl and dried off in the sun. It is
always hot during the day and towels are not necessary. I managed to get a haircut
and you wouldn't be ashamed of me now – it's the best clip I've had since leaving
Drummoyne, and it cost me 9d.
And speaking of Drummoyne, how is the old place and the garden, is it still yielding
the prolific crop of beans, tomatoes etc? Don't you let Tubby or any visiting mongs
try to push those precious pines over with their hind legs, will you?
Haven't heard from your lazy sisters for a long time – give Norma a kick in her motheaten panties for me. Betty, I suppose has hands full with her big family and Dulcie is,
no doubt, worrying about withered walnuts or something.
Hope the old folks are feeling better. Wally Pine,( Cpl H W Pyne NX152441,
apparently attached to the unit’s pharmacy) is back with us and he asked me how
Dad was. I mentioned the sulphur baths and he said it would be foolish not to
continue if they've given any results at all.
That's about all for now, my darling wife, – keep up the writing cos it means so much
to me up here. When you go down to 22, tell them we're both in excellent nick and
doing a good job. I'll write to Mother tonight.
All my love to the dearest and loveliest girl in the world. Get that guy on the mantel
shelf to give you a kiss and love up and I'll do the same with my little locket. That
always comes to bed with me, you know and goes wherever I go. Good-bye, my
sweetheart and sweet dreams, Forever Yours, George.
59
PS. Excuse awful writing I haven't anywhere to rest pad.
***
26 January 1943. On plain, lined writing pad paper, without identifying details or
sign of censorship, in pencil, headed: No:30.
Dearest Marjorie, Yesterday I was complaining about getting no letters and tonight
when I arrived back there were three waiting for me – yours number 19 and 20 and
one from Cecil. Decided it pays to grumble. I just finished writing to Mr Patterson21,
and baby, was it a struggle – didn't know what to say to the old bugger but used up
five pages so probably will bore him to death.
Thanks darling for the lovely thoughts in your letters – they’re a good tonic for me. I
kissed the kiss and will keep that impression of your lips with me wherever I go.
When you tell me how you are about to turn down the pink quilt I can picture the
scene just as clearly as if I were standing at the door watching you. How I'd love to be
there to do it for you. Well, this war may end sooner than we think and then we won't
have to go on wishing.
It's just starting to rain again. All day it's been showering with low clouds and I'm told
this is the usual kind of weather for these parts. If that is so we're going to have an
awful lot of fun in the mud.
(Two dopey to write tonight dear – going to turn in now and continue in the morning.
Good night Sweetheart)
27 January 1943. Still raining and Ron and I are trying to clean up the back of the
ambulance. At the moment we are having a "smoko" so that I can finish my letter.
The lads killed a big iguana yesterday and had the time of their lives putting it into the
beds of the NCOs. I think this is one of the "crocodiles" that have been seen around
by the city slickers.
I can hear the old "Dina" struggling with the wheel that has to be changed so I’d
better give him a hand. Will drop you a line tomorrow, dear.
For now goodbye, and don't go making eyes at the postman or I’ll cut my letters down
to one a month. All my love sweetheart darling and kisses and hugs from, Your, Me.
PS. Love to all and tell mother I’ll boot that cat over the fence if he doesn't shut up. G.
***
28 January 1943. On Australian Red Cross Society letterhead, lined writing pad
paper, without identifying details or sign of censorship, in pencil, not numbered.
Dearest Marjorie, Last night I received two letters from you, numbers 8 and 18
which makes the total 20 to date. Number 18 is the registered one containing a 10
shilling note. Darling you shouldn't have done that – I have plenty of money to waste
as it is. Most of it goes on – now let me think – milkshake's (sixpence), Steak and
eggs, (two and six), Fruit (very expensive), Tobacco and Cigs, occasionally beer (7d.
glass 1 shilling 9 pence a bottle) and stamps. The local picture show 3 shillings a
touch but I never pay for any other functions if any, (dances I mean)
60
January 31. Marjorie dearest, I haven't heard from you for years and this is the first
opportunity I had to write since I sent the letter card from the AGH. We’ve had a
particularly busy spasm and Dina and self have been burning up the petrol along the
Atherton highway consistently every day. Looks like we'll be out again today so I'll
hurry through this letter.
It's raining oceans of water outside just now – everything is feet deep in mud, churned
up by the trucks. This is where the big four-wheel-drive ambulances shine. You
should see them ploughing through it – only one of our vehicles has bogged so far and
I can tell you that is a pretty good performance in these thar hills.
Yesterday we struck low clouds and heavy rain on the tops which made our journey
very slow. The day before we had an appendix aboard and he was in such pain we had
to pull up several times to rest him – the trip took about five hours.
The CO is hanging around Darling so I think I'll take cover for a while – he might
give me a job of digging drains or something.
How are you my little sweetheart and what have you been doing with yourself. I am
anxiously waiting for Len's return to get a first-hand description of what you look like
– not that I’ve forgotten. I remember every little thing about you – I couldn't forget
you in 1 million years.
When I’m sitting behind the wheel coming back at night and everything is asleep and
quiet – that's when I'm back with you. Ron is in the offsider’s seat, dead to the world.
In front is the dark road bordered by ghostly looking trees and bushes that slip by with
the miles. Strange, but I don't mind the night trip a bit, – I suppose that's because I am
with my thoughts of you. We always have a singsong at the beginning but the
repetoire peters out and after an hour or less – then Ron says "Gees I'm tired" and
drops off to sleep. I usually persuade him to climb in the back on a stretcher – he’s
very game placing his life in my hands like that isn't he?
Pross received a letter from mother yesterday but I have not seen it yet – it's funny
how some of them dribble through and then others are days late. I think some guys in
the Post Office are due for a kick in the pants – still I bet that the chief cause is Army
red tape.
The other ambulance is about to leave darling and I want this to catch the first
available mail. Goodbye for the now and a big smacker right on your lovely little
mouth. Love to all – no need for me to go through their names, is there. Until the next
bulletin keep the old creases at the end of your lips upturned.
Ever Yours, Me.
PS. My so and so watch has stopped- can't get it repaired up here – may send it back
to you to see what Mr Roberts can do with it. Hairspring is rusted. (Remember my
swim in the river). Love, G
***
61
30 January 1943. , On Threepenny Lettercard, undated but postmarked Atherton 30
Jan 43, without identifying details or sign of censorship, in pencil.
Dearest Marjorie, Another hurried note to say "hello". Just arrived at the above and
have been too busy to write. Got back about 1 AM last night and it looks like a
repetition tonight. A little bit of fun though, at the old "bull and bush" on the way
through I hope.
How are you my darling and how's everybody? Pross hasn't been feeling too good for
the last couple of days – bilious I think but I'm as fit as a fiddle. In fact if I had any
more milkshakes I’ll be getting as fat as a pig. No news of startling importance but
will finish a letter to you tomorrow.
Goodbye my darling wife until then, a big hug and kiss from, Your only, Me.
***
February 1943.
Duty Ambulance around Ravenshoe and Innisfail.
3 February 1943. On Australian Red Cross Society Queensland Division letterhead,
lined writing pad, in pencil, no identifying details or censorship markings.
Dearest Marjorie, Arrived back at midnight last night and found your letters Nos. 22
and 23 awaiting me. Also one from Miss Mac, Norma and of course the enclosure
from Anne. Now let me get organized – I'll run through your last three letters once
again before I start.
Sorry to hear my poor dear Norma had such a nasty accident with the crochet needle.
I know how painful it is – the same thing happened to me when I was about 12 years
old and I still remember it. Tell her I will give her an "extra big cuddle" when I get
home to make up for those painful minutes. Doc Menzies is the sort of guy who
would ask a patient to wait a few minutes if he were about to die.
Thanks darling for the writing pads and envelopes – they came yesterday too.
Oh Marjorie dear, several times you have mentioned your position in regard to this
war – I wouldn't attempt to dissuade you from doing anything you wanted to do, but
dear I would like to say this – don't let anyone push you into a "slushy's” job or you'll
find yourself doing all the hard work and someone else getting all the credit. I've seen
a lot of that sort of business going on since I've been in the Army that applies also to
any call-up job too. You have the right as a soldier's wife to special consideration, so
62
go into a huddle with someone who knows the ropes before you sign up. As a matter
of fact I think you've got too much to do at home to worry about outside matters.
I'm very interested in your blood donation venture – you needn't get scared about it –
(like me), as it can't hurt you and after three or four days or less you are normal again.
For about a half day or so I understand the donor feels a little weak and tired. My
blood group is A 2 – do you know your group yet?
Glad you are satisfied with the second lot of photographs – how much refund did you
get – or didn't you bother?
Been trying to fathom what you meant by M.C. in this phrase "Bet you feel just as
clean after a wash in the bush without M.C" (is it "many clothes"?). I told Colin Bell
you enquired about him and he asked me to give you his very kind regards. He is now
back with the unit and acting a bit strangely because he is not on the ambulance with
me now.
Love to Aunt Cissie and Aunt Emily when you see them.
And now my darling sweetheart wife I have come to your latest letter No. 23 and it's
the loveliest love letter I've ever read. Dear girl if you ever tell me again that you try
to be worthy of me, I’ll shrink to the size of an ant’s heel. It is my job to try to be as
good as you are. You know that old song "I was lucky to be born at the same time as
you" – that songwriter composed those words especially for guys like me – only I’ve
heard you say "I was lucky too" haven't I? Don't know why you should have taken to
me like that.
From the first I knew I'd found a rare gem and now, more than ever, I realise she's the
most precious thing in the world to me. That's not meant to be just words, dear mate,
but a poor effort at expressing something that is deep within me. If I should lose you,
it would mean the end of the spark of my soul.
Your little quotation sounds very much like a Churchillism and I agree that it's true. In
his own time God will defend the right and those responsible for all the suffering will
be punished, I'm sure. We are too small and insignificant to know what it's all about
but we can rest assured that everything is a fulfilment of a plan for a better future.
Sound like a fatalist, don't I?
Lights out sounded about half an hour ago dear so I'm making this my last page and
hopping into bunky do. Joe Young [ NX138024] has been telling us some of his
experiences tonight and had us laughing our heads off. He’s number two driver to
Pross you know and although he puts the wind up Pross with his driving, he’s a great
little mate (about 5 foot nothing). Joe talks about 200 words a minute, has a
remarkable memory and is the sort who can listen as well as ramble on. I’ll repeat
some of his stories one of those days (not rude stories) and you'll be amazed to think
that he could get away with so much.
Billy Kelly [NX82419] is with us again and sends regards. He and Ron made some
chips awhile ago and the three of us had a wonderful supper. Next time we’ll have
63
steaks with the chips I hope. Pross is out on a job and should be back any minute, so
better get his bed made.
Good night darling and happy dreams. X That’s your big kiss. Always Yours, George.
PS. It’s raining like – – still. Love to all. G
***
4 February 1943. On plain lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying details or
censorship marking.
Dearest Marjorie, Your letter number 24 was reposing on my bunk when I returned
this evening which makes three in two days – not bad. Surprised to hear of an alert in
Sydney – have you heard what it was? Or was it a false alarm? There has been a
pretty strong rumour floating around that Milne Bay has been retaken by the Japs but
no official announcement. Wouldn't you think the big lumps would affirm it or deny
that straight away. I'm hanged if I can see any sense in holding back such things.
Personally I think it's all boloney.
Darling I hate to think of you tiring yourself out at that canteen as I know you do all
the housework before you start. If you want to help the Red Cross, why don't you
leave the cleaning up at home for the day. Or are you taking on a daily job. I couldn't
quite make out what sort of work it is and you would be the best judge of whether I'd
approve or not, dear. I’d hate to think you were waiting on a bunch of fresh soldiers
who had no respect for any woman. Sometimes I get very disgusted with remarks that
are passed about some of the lasses in jobs of that kind – they are not always spoken
in undertones, either. Of course I know you wouldn't put up with that darling – I'm
only expressing my opinion. Tell me all about it in your next letter won't you and let
me know where the canteen is. One thing more though – I would be terribly worried
and angry if I learned you were going home by yourself after dark, darling.
Poor Norma, whatever is wrong with her – perhaps she's s fretting for me-eh? Let Dr
Kildare come in for a minute and ask you to pass on the few don'ts to her. Don't
smoke any cigarettes, don't get cramped up over a book for hours or do fine
needlework at night. Don't be running off to the pictures every few hours, don't try to
concentrate on too many things at the one time – everything can wait its turn. And
some dos. Do get at least eight hours of unbroken sleep at NIGHT. Do grab as much
sun and fresh air as possible. Do realise that "Inner cleanliness" comes first. Do plenty
of bushwalking or exercise each day. Do take the tonic faithfully each day. Do drink a
lot of fresh milk. – Signed Dr Kildare.
Oh darling how I wish all this business was over so that I could come home and take
care of you and live a normal life. That's the fervent wish of every soldier these days.
I'm sure. I'm not complaining about my lot and I know there are others far worse off–
but news of the outside world is scarce and nothing appears to be progressing. Better
go to bed now and perhaps I'll feel better when I'm not so tired. Tomorrow morning I
have to get up at 4 AM and light eight fires and we’ve just had a terrific thunderstorm
so the wood will be very dry won’t it?
I'm sleeping in the ambulance tonight with Ron and he's already snoring – told me
tonight that he thinks we work harder than any two others in the unit and I agreed.
64
Goodnight my darling wife and dream your pretty dreams and wake up with a smile. I
return that you know what kind of a kiss and will pray tonight for a hasty return.
All my love, Sweetheart, Yours only, George.
PS. I'm getting plenty of eats and as many milkshakes as I can drink – no need for you
to send me anything unless you like to bake a cake at some time. Oh and a bar of that
chocolate wouldn't go astray if you can get it darling. I crave sweet things at times. G.
***
7 February 1943. On plain lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying details or
censorship marking.
Dearest Marjorie, Yesterday I received your letter No. 25 dated 1/2/ 43. Airmail
letters seem to be the only ones getting through these days, I believe the rivers are in
flood again. However, the line should be clear in a few days – probably is at this
moment.
Today has been a beautiful summer's day – pretty hot but not at all "sticky". That's the
beauty of this climate, the heat is nearly always dry – low percentage of humidity. It
rained hard yesterday for a couple of hours and then cleared up. The previous night
we were caught in a storm on the road and had to wait till it passed – got in about
midnight after sharing a dish of tea with some locals who invited us in..
Len Bass came to our lines that night and also last night. Gave us all the news from
home. He’s camped about 400 yards from us so we’ll be seeing a lot of him, I
suppose. I didn't have much time to speak to him as I was on Duty Ambulance and at
the same time I was doing my washing when nobody was looking. (Just had an attack
of the sneezes – first one I've had for months). There was a call for DA before lights
out and I had to go. Pross said Len said his sister would like to meet you – she lives at
home. I haven't met her but I understand she is a young married woman with twin
babies and Pross says she is a very nice girl. Don't know her name.
Sorry to hear Dad's not been too well. I think you should try to persuade him to tackle
the sulphur baths again before the cold weather sets in. It's so easy to keep putting off
those sort of things. And don't go wearing out those shorts of mine. Did you have on
"only a pair of shorts"? I would have loved to have seen you – bet you looked pretty.
And there's the PS in your letter which I have to answer, isn't there? Well this is how I
read it. "Darling Peter Story has asked me to go to the pictures". After a second
glance I realised you’d left out a comma after "Darling" – or did you? Norma wrote
and told me he was a very attractive guy – whom she could fall for in a big way if he
wasn't a relative. She also mentioned that he was very fond of you. I tried hard to
visualise what made you ask if I cared. I thought I could hear Norma saying "Don't be
mad. Go with him. George wouldn't mind" and someone else urging you to go. I do
hope you're not undecided as that would mean you were being influenced by an
outside party and although wanting to go you are wondering what my reaction would
be. I wish you hadn't asked even me that question as I couldn't pass an opinion – but
anything you do is okay as far as I'm concerned. Next time, dear, don't ask me – tell
me. When I went to those dances – I decided for myself and that's what I want you to
do.
65
Now, darling after that little lecture, I will say Goodnight with a big kiss and squeeze
from, Your, Me. PS. Love to all. G.
***
8 February 1943. On plain lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying details or
censorship marking.
Dearest Marjorie, Here I am again darling, and feeling a lot better today. I've had an
attack of the blues for the last couple of days but I'm over them now. Maybe the cure
was in the 5/- canteen order received from the Municipality Drummoyne Comforts
Fund – Pross scored also. I wonder who gave them our names and numbers?
10 February 1943: I had to break off there, dear and go out on an urgent job. In the
meantime I wrote you a lettercard from Atherton as a stopgap and when we came in
last night at 11 your 27th letter was waiting for me.
Sweetheart, that haircut and wave is just an ordinary expense and you mustn't take
that as your Christmas present. Please draw some money and indulge in a little luxury
spending – (in spite of Mr Dedman) – please get that present and then I shall feel
better about not being able to do the job myself.
How I wish I could see how lovely your little blond head looks with its new crop of
curls. You seem quite satisfied with it so it must be very smart.
Sorry to hear my Norma is not feeling well – poor kid shall just have to build herself
up and give her nerves the right kind of rest. How are you feeling yourself – I hope
you won't let yourself get into that condition with this Blood Bank venture. If you're
not feeling too well, wipe it because there are plenty of others and the army can
always find someone for an emergency transfusion. There is a blood bank in every
AGH.
When I read that you were to go to Sydney Hospital on Feb 9– I stopped and thought
you might be feeling sick and weak – I said a prayer for my brave little wife. Please
tell me darling how it affected you and let me know if you are all right. I know it's
only a simple thing and they take away 300 to 400 cc of blood – (about 1 pint isn't it)
but the human system is a funny contraption and reactions are different in every case.
You haven't told me yet what you do at the Red Cross Canteen or where it is –
remember what I said in a previous letter? It's not safe for a young woman to be out
on her own in the city at night – I've told you and Norma that a thousand times.
Two or three times lately you've mentioned about a call-up for war work, dear. I don't
see any newspapers up here – except ones that come around parcels – so I'm a bit
behind with news. – (I'm wrong – the Sunday Sun you sent reached me two days ago).
What has been decided about compulsory enlistment of female labour?
I'm writing this letter on my bunk – ambulances are now barred at night after some of
the nincompoops in this unit have been running the batteries down. Don't mind the
lousy scrawl will you sweetheart. A hurricane lamp is not the best light in the world
especially when it is shared by two or three. Time now is about 8.30 and for once I'm
in bed already
66
Len called in tonight to see Pross but that young man is out on the hills in his
galloping hospital. Len wants us to visit him tomorrow night, (payday) and there'll be
beer and song. I'm afraid I'll be carting the bodies myself then – but there will be
plenty of other nights.
Give you one guess at what the weather is like outside at the moment – you're right,
it's still raining.
Thank you, darling, for the reading matter – Sunday Sun, Woman and World's News.
Now I got to find time to read them. And that's about all I can think of for the
moment.
Good night dearest and sweet dreams. How about a date? Tell your folks I'm thinking
of them and the times we have spent together and longing for the day when I can
come back for good. Give my love to all and when you see Mother tell her the last
cake was a "Pippin" – hope I didn't hurt her feelings about the "lousy" one – didn't
know it was Pross's birthday cake. A big kiss and hug from, Your, Me.
***
9 February 1943. On Threepenny PMG Lettercard, in pencil without identifying
details or censorship marking
Dearest Marjorie, I suppose you're sick of getting these lettercards, but then they're
better than nothing, aren't they darling? I started a letter to you today but couldn't
finish in time. I'll send it tomorrow I hope. We are now parked in the main street of
Atherton waiting for a guy to buy some fruit. It's raining as usual and we've got that
drive across the mountains in front of us.
How are you my sweetheart darling and how does your garden grow. Still getting
plenty of tomatoes and beans. Don't work too hard on the old lawns– wait till I get
back.
Remember how we used to race round the back behind the mower – that was BARS
(Before Air Raid Shelter). Give my love to all and look after yourself my darling. I'll
finish that letter tomorrow. Big good night kiss and squeeze from, your loving
husband, Me.
***
13 February 1943: Saturday. On plain lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying
details or censorship marking..
Dearest Marjorie, Your letter No. 28 came this morning and last night I got the usual
bull bulletin from the office. I have also heard from Dulcie and Norma in the last
couple of days – so my kick about not getting any letters from your sisters brought
some results, didn't it?
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Darling, it's not necessary to ask "Do I still love you?" You know I worship every
little bit of you and everything that belongs to you. When I think of you in the call-up
or working for anyone else but me, I get jealous or something. That's because I feel I
own you exclusively and I hope you feel that way about me too. How I wish you were
here with me tonight to join in our little sing-song. The lads have invested in a few
bottles of nectar and are about to do them over. I'm lying on my bed and it’s just
starting to get too dark to write – in addition there's a lot of talk going on and it's hard
to concentrate. Better sign off here until tomorrow as I can't use the back of the
ambulance, now. A big kiss, dear.
Sunday 14 February: We expected Len over last night but he didn't turn up – must
have been on guard or some other duty. However it was a very successful might and
we drank everybody's health, sang all the old songs and talked over our past
experiences. Each made a speech about the others patting ourselves on the back and
congratulating ourselves on being such good blokes in a team. Ding has been moping
around lately so I asked him over and I think he was flattered. He’s having a birthday
party this month and we’re all invited. The idea of making a regular gathering was
endorsed heartily by all so they must have enjoyed themselves.
Yesterday was a beautiful day and I was able to get some of my washing done. I'm
afraid I'm not much of a hand at it under these conditions – as all my clothes have
faded and gone streaky.. The whites have patches of green all over them and when I
hang out those socks you and Norm knitted for me, the boys think I'm going to have a
baby. The heels barely reach the arch of my foot. Still I couldn't care less – might be
getting three new pairs before long. This afternoon I'm on rest and will probably go
down for a swim in the river. Had a chance to go to Innesfail for a couple of days
leave but knocked it back as my washing had to be done. I may make the trip next
week-end – it should be a good break.
Things have quietened down a bit for the time being but I think there will be plenty to
do this week. Don't mind at all – the time just flies when the rush is on. Fancy, it's
nearly 10 weeks since I left Sydney – that means leave is nearer – oh boy, oh boy, oh
boy. You think you could stand the parting for a second – it would be worth it
wouldn't darling?
Where did you get the idea that we might be coming back to NSW? Strangely
enough, there has been a very strong rumour of such a move – but I can't see how it
would be possible, more likely would be a boat trip I think.
If we stay here for any length of time we’ll get leave, starting about the end of May
and carrying on up to November. Only a certain number can go at a time.
Sunday Night 9 o'clock. Didn't have that rest afternoon after all – am now at Mulinda
and about to close down so that I can post it on the way. A big kiss and squeeze from,
Me
PS. Love to all. Will write you tomorrow – anxious to know how you got on with the
blood donors.
***
15 February 1943. On plain lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying details or
censorship marking.
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Dearest Marjorie, I don't know what you thought of my last letter but it must have
seemed disjointed as I grabbed any opportunity to write a few lines and then when I
was all set for my afternoon of rest, I had to go out on a long trip. So I closed
suddenly and posted the letter without bothering to read it through. Anyhow it said
"hello" to you, didn't it darling.
Dina and I got in after midnight last night – we slept until 8:45 and refused to answer
the whistles for parades. When we did climb out we were shot out to pick up patients
in the mud and slush. The rain has gone for awhile I think so I may be able to finish
my chores. Two things I’m not going to do after the war – one is washing and the
other is anything in connection with car maintenance. And we'll send all the washing
to the laundry. Today I heard about a soldier who went on leave looking forward to a
good night's rest in bed. In the morning they found him on the floor with two blankets
wrapped around him – said the bed was too uncomfortable. I bet you'll never find me
sleeping on the floor unless there's a couple of empty bottles alongside me.
Actually our bunks are the best we've had since we been in the army. They are made
of a wooden frame to hold a piece of three ply grooved like a blade sharpener. We
have added six legs about 15 inches high to lift them off the ground. On top goes the
palliasse (spelling) of straw and believe me it's much better than lying on the ground.
As soon as we have time we are going to get a carpet – a carpet of reeds to cover the
floor wall-to-wall.
The mail has just come in – disappointed there was nothing for me. Still I mustn't be
greedy – been doing a pretty well lately
There are lots of things I'd like to say to you sweetheart but letters are likely to be
opened at any time and what I would say would be for you alone. Catch on?
Do you remember how we used cuddle up in the boat shed and those good night
kisses in the hall. ‘member and the big lounge chair on the old back porch and our
verandah and Kurnell. Jimmy Chalker’s little car and the roses at the "Log Cabin".
That's just a few memories that come back often – we have been almost everywhere
worthwhile haven't we, dearest? I can picture us talking about those good times – in
the quiet of our little "castle" can't you? I'm glad we lived those days and have the
memories forever. I don't think two people could have been more suited to each other,
do you? Tomorrow we’ll love with the experience of years. Today we are making
tomorrow possible. Now it's time for bed dear girl, so good night, and the sweetest of
dreams. Kisses and love from your, Me.
PS. I haven't written home for some days. Tell them we're both very well, love to all.
***
17 February 1943. On plain lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying details or
censorship marking.
Dearest Marjorie, It's now about 9 o'clock and I've just finished a big wash which I've
been at, on and off, since 5 o'clock this afternoon. Four shirts, two pants, shorts, two
pairs of sox, two underpants, towel, hanky – well its big for me anyway. All day Dina
and I have been working flat out on the truck, changing oils, making adjustments,
69
tightening nuts and cleaning etc – so we're both pretty tired. We didn't check in until 1
AM this morning but to make up for it we slepted in until 9 o'clock.
Your 30th letter was handed to me at midday and I was very glad to hear that you are
not greatly perturbed about the Blood transfusion. 400 cc (cubic centametres) is
approx. 4/5th pt. and this would be replaced in two or three days. The human system
contains about 14 pints I think and you could lose nearly 2 quarts without any serious
consequences – except a severe weakening (temporary) of the system. Secondary
shock is the chief cause of fatalities in cases of haemorrhaging – the only treatment
for secondary shock (even though only a small amount of blood has been lost) is a
transfusion at once. That's why every casualty must be treated for shock – (bleeding
arrested, kept warm and made comfortable and cheerful etc) thus preventing the
development of secondary shock. The "Blood Bank" ensures there is always a supply
of the right types of blood – yours (04) is the universal type and may be used on
anyone, mine is A2 and a suitable only for the A 2 groups. Say, who started this
discussion.
Hope Dulcie is okay now – she'll probably find it will do her a lot of good, after
awhile. I wrote to her the other day but that was before transfusion. Next time I write
I'll tell her she might have bled to death or something just to cheer her up
You could have knocked me down with a feather when I read about Nola Warren. I
offer no comment except that I think the uniform and war, probably, is partly to
blame. Perhaps in spite of everything there’ll be a happy ending to the story.
Dear little wife, you say the loveliest things in the simplest way. Of course we’ll love
our dreams and have a family and smoke our pipe and patch up the kid’s pants. We’ll
laugh and cry and be the same to each other right through our lives, won’t we? Now
dear, toddle off to bed and go on dreaming about the good days to come – I'll be
dreaming too.
Good night Sweetheart with a big kiss and squeeze, Ever your, Me.
PS. Love to all – and give Anne a kiss for me. Tell her I want to hear all about
"’Noccio" when I come home. G.
***
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18 February 1943. On plain lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying details or
censorship marking.
Dearest Marjorie, Here’s the old grasshopper husband back again on Duty
Ambulance rank, writing in the ambulance with a good light – that's the privilege for
DA until lights out.
I intended to start about half an hour ago but a couple of blokes wanted to play me at
Draughts. Had three wins and two losses. We have electric light plant working now
and an excellent radio. America comes in clearly, also the Japs. The San Francisco
program was excellent – especially produced for the Marines in the South West
Pacific. Radio Tokio, of course, is mostly propaganda very dull and directed to
mothers and sweethearts and wives of the prisoners of war. The commentator had a
very American voice (Yank born Jap, I think) and put over a lot of boloney and sob
stuff, thinly veiling idea that the Jap soldier is a brave fellow, ready to die but
generous to his enemy. I'd much rather have the German propaganda – you can laugh
more at it.
How is your head feeling now. In your 32nd letter (which arrived today with 31) you
said you were feeling much better. Please don't go over-doing things darling, rushing
around with all this Red Cross work. I know you too well – you get mad with the zeal
and want to do everything. Take things steady and realise those "big business" lumps
probably want their grub in a hurry so that they can spend a bit more time hanging
over a pot of beer or whiskey.
I haven't seen Len for a couple of days – been out when he called. But he and Pross
have been down to the stream a few times. Both is looking extremely well. You can
inform Mother that Pross doesn't look as if he is starving. Our tucker is not too bad.
I'm feeling pretty well myself – except I never seem to have any time to spare. Very
shortly we may have very little to do as an MAC unit will probably take over the long
run. That means long route marches will be on again , I suppose, to keep us fit.
Pross got a letter from Cec telling him about his medical board. Understand he is now
Class C. Which reminds me of the story of the soldier who used go around picking up
scraps of paper, scan them carefully and screw them up and throw them away. After
going through the usual red tape for a board, he was brought before the boarding MO.
There were a lot of papers on the table and our friend rushed over, perused them
carefully and sadly shook his head. The MO fell very sorry for him and gave him his
discharge on grounds of insanity. As soon as the soldier received his discharge papers
he brightened up and cried out gleefully "That's the blighter I’ve been looking for, for
three years"
Cec shouldn't have much difficulty in getting his now – and I think it will be a good
thing for Mother as well as himself. The fool in DFO who cut Mother's measily
allowance ought get a doctor to examine his brain – or be put on the dole after the
war.
Well darling girl, I've taken a long time to say my say tonight and lights out will
sound any minute from now. This is where I finish. Please don't get too impatient
waiting for me – remember Rome wasn't built in a day. I'll fly back to you at the
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earliest possible moment – in the meantime keep up the old grin. Good night and
kisses. Ever your soldier sweetheart, Me
PS. I catch on about Bill. Hope he gets back before the event. My love to all. G
***
19 February 1943. On plain lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying details or
censorship marking.
Dearest Marjorie, It's raining in bucketsful outside and we’re sitting in the tent
having a little jam session. Len is sitting at the head of my bed playing his new mouth
organ. Pross and Bill are lying flat out moaning away. I have the hurricane perched up
and am in an awkward position trying to write.
I've just been working at out – it's just 10 weeks and five days since I said "Goodbye"
to you that Sunday night. Doesn't it seem more like 10 months, darling. There is one
consolation, it's that much less longer to when I shall see you again. We must get
leave within the 12 months and only a few can go each month and I may be lucky
enough to be in one of the early batches – Wacko!
I think I mentioned in a previous letter that we would be spending this weekend in
Innesfail but that's off now. All the crowd from the tent want to go together so we
crossed our names off the list and are trying to arrange the party for next week. Hope
to get a look at the ocean – and surf. I wish we were going to Manly or Harbord –
then I could meet you couldn't I?. A stroll along the Corso with you on Sunday
afternoon would be next to heaven to me.
The other night when I was writing to you I thought about Kurnell and our little
picnic over there. Do you remember? I recall a certain little ring made of grass - and
kisses. Also there was a certain little difficulty, about which most people would laugh
but something that brought you very close to me. I could never forget, have you
forgotten that small incident? If you remember, tell me in your next letter what it was.
Then there was the trip to the Log Cabin in Jimmy Chalker's car. And the big bunches
of roses they gave us, and the ride home in the back seat – two of us, all squashed up.
What memories! When I think of that night, I feel that it was the best trip I've ever
made in a car. Remind me to tell you why one of these days. You caused your big
sister and family quite a lot of concern didn't you darling – quite unnecessary though,
wasn't it?
Don't mind this reminiscing will you, darling girl – I just feel in the mood for it. I
have other precious thoughts too – ones for your ears alone. You know what I mean,
don't you without me putting them down on paper.
When you go to bed tonight sweetheart, pause for a moment, before going to sleep
and think back on the times we had together in the last five years. I often do that and
feel very happy. Bye, Bye for now, dearest. A you-know-what-kind of a kiss and
cuddle from your one and only, Me
PS. Love to all – not forgetting Betty, Junior and Anne. Give Norma a bit of a tickle
for me. G.
***
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21 February 1943, Sunday On plain lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying
details or censorship marking.
Dearest Marjorie, Haven't received a letter from anyone in three days – suppose there
are bags of mail lying on some railway station waiting for the Army Post Office to
come out of its coma. If I don't hear from you tomorrow I shall be very disappointed
especially if I'm feeling like I do tonight.
Last night we got a few bottles of beer and drank till we dropped – rather I didn't go
under until the pure alcohol came out. I must have had nearly half a pint of the stuff
and, oh boy, was I sick? I tried to walk it off and tried to bring it up but my head went
spinning and so did the bed. Eventually, I got to sleep but had to climb out at 5:45 to
light three fires – and the wood was damp. How I managed to get them alight is
beyond me – I felt like falling over any tick of the clock. I have a bit of a cough so I
stayed in bed all day and nobody asked any questions. As a matter of fact there’s no
one here to check out – they are all down at Innesfail for the weekend. Tonight I'm
just about right but still a little bit tender. Never no more!
Dina and Ding Dong have taken the wagon out and have not yet returned. I think Len
might have gone with them. He was going to try to get the afternoon off so that he
could go. Pross is out, Bill Kelly has a job to do and that leaves Joe and I writing to
our respective wives.
How are you darling and how's your blood? Do you feel that you have replaced it yet
or don't you care? You look after yourself for me won't you dear, and take things easy
for awhile.
This rain is getting on my G-strings. It's been hot and sultry all day and just when my
washing is dry down it comes before I can bring the stuff in. By the way I don't know
whether I told you before or not but that last big wash of mine was a huge success –
much to my amazement I used half a packet of Rinso, plenty of elbow grease and
gave everything a rinse in cold water afterwards – as you taught me.
Oh darling, while I remember it, would you see if you could get me a puggaree-Size 7
(you know, the head-band with folds)22. Vereys, Gowings or those military stores
would have them. They cost about four bob I think. Norma might get one during her
lunch hour, to save you going into town especially, if you asked her nicely for me. I
believe puggarees are going to be very scarce and I want to have one when I come
home on leave. Don't forget, size 7, dear.
I’ll say goodbye now as the orderly corporal is calling me to load petrol drums. All
my love, sweetheart and a big kiss from, Your, Me.
***
24 February 1943. On plain lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying details or
censorship marking.
Dearest Marjorie, Once more I have to report a mail-less day (for me, I mean) and I
have decided that if I don't hear from you in the next 24 hours, I'll wire. I'm very
75
anxious to know that you are safe and well, darling as we seem to be cut off from
Sydney. The radio babbles on, but everybody knows how long they take to release
information. Perhaps I am a little over-anxious as only a few days have passed but
you didn't tell me how that blood-transfusion affected you, except that you didn't
faint.
I wrote to you air-mail yesterday and this one will catch tomorrow's air-mail so, if it's
the river causing the hold-up, you will get these two letters first. I suppose I'm a bit of
a ratbag feeling this way and there may be times when there will be weeks of waiting
– any soldiers lot. Haven't been out for three days and there's not much to write about
– except rain and water and mud, which is very boring.
Did you hear about the girl who got in a taxi and said "Crown Street Women's
Hospital, please. And you needn't hurry, I only work there".
Pross is sitting opposite me scratching away a letter to home. I haven't written to
Mother for a long time but I know you are always down there and tell them we are
OK. There’s so little to say. Those lines were scribbled in the dark, now the hurricane
lamp is alight and I'm back on the rails. Hope you don't get too annoyed trying to
decipher my scrawl darling –-one of these days I'll give you a big surprise by using a
pen. Isn't my writing getting awful – always had the name of being the worst writer of
good ? copy in the office.
Tomorrow is February 25 and its "Ding Dong's" Day and he’s throwing the long
spoken of birthday party. You should have seen him walking in with an armful of
bottles awhile ago – like a schoolboy with a bundle of crackers. Col is looking his list
of songs up and I'll bet it includes "the Volga Boatman" in Russian – it always does.
Now sweetheart, all the boys have come in to roost and I'm monopolising the light so
I'll have to say Goodnight with a little prayer that you are not in any trouble and well.
How I would love to be able to give you that big kiss and hug instead of writing about
it. I'll spend the rest of my life making up for it when we are together again.
Ever your own, George.
PS. I couldn't close without asking you to give my love to all at home. A kiss to
everyone. I'll write to Mother tomorrow, tell her. Love, G.
***
25 February 1943 On plain lined writing pad, in pencil, without identifying details or
censorship marking.
Dearest Marjorie, My luck’s in today! Three of your letters arrived this morning,
Nos. 33, 34, 35 and I very relieved to hear that you are well apart from the little red
"patch" on your arm. As far as prescribing for that, I don’t think you could do any
better than use Doan's Ointment – it's excellent for anything like that as well as for
pimples et cetera. Get a tin (3/3d) and try it anyhow, Darling.
The parcel came yesterday morning – will you thank Mum and Dad for the Andrews,
Norm for tobacco and film and sweetheart you are naughty girl for spending all that
money on me. Funny thing about the sox, I just got my new issue of three pairs from
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the "Q" store and now you say you are going to use up more coupons on another pair.
If you haven't already bought them – don't, as I have enough to last for years, dear.
Another point is we are supposed to carry only the number of articles and equipment
set down in Routine Orders. In case of a forward move, all surplus gear would have to
be left at base and probably not seen again for a long time if ever. I have a lot of gear
I'd like to send home but I don't want to take the risk of it going astray.
There's a big discussion on Income Tax going on among the boys tonight and
everyone has decided that the department can go chase themselves. The rain has
ceased for a while and there are a few patches of blue sky. Everywhere is mud feet
deep just to make things a bit more uncomfortable. "Dina and I made a trip to the
AGH yesterday and coming back we struck the low-lying clouds and rain which holds
up for a few hours. Finally, we decided to camp on the side of the road and at 9.15
this morning a lorry pulled up and one of our sergeants hopped out and told us to get
going – which we did after another hour had elapsed. That my dear is what is called
"lead-swing". Really we were quite entitled to the rest after such a "gruelling" night.
Came into lines to be greeted by Pross with your three letters.
By the way, it's raining again and the light has almost faded. Now for the hurricane
lamp.
I’ll let you see the old grasshopper as soon as poss – Innesfail this weekend so we
should get some good shots. The milky caramels have been consumed – and I'm sure
the rest of the "goodies" will be "done over" before many hours have passed. Joe says
your boyfriend must have been shouting you the Californian Chocs, (apropos the box
in which caramels came), that makes me feel jealous. Which is acting like “a dog in
the manger”.
Seems like you've been having the same trouble with your mail as I have. I've been
writing regularly though not every day so you'll probably receive a batch soon. Went
a bit haywire with the dates of last couple but you will be able to work out what's
what. I'll call this one 50 and try to remember the score each time, how will that do?
Aren’t I a dope, darling.
Hope Norma has a nice holiday and that she comes back feeling better. Can't say I
approve of company – bad influence and all that, you know. Still, keep that to
yourself, won't you.
I can just imagine little Anne toddling off to school and her look of amazement at the
ladies with hoods – once again a shake of the head from an interfering old busybody.
If we ever have a little girl I think I'd like her to go to a public school elementary
schooling – then to a PLC or MLC, wouldn't you? I certainly wouldn't allow a young
brain become biassed by any ordered form of religion.
You notice I taking your medicine for the "blues" and I'll try to be more patient. What
if you should get sick of writing for me and give your kisses to someone else? What
would I do? You’d tell me first, wouldn't you, darling? Hope you don't mind me
talking this way, dear but it has happened before as you have told me yourself. The
Army magazine "Salt” (last issue), carried a short story along those lines but in the
end, the girl decides she wants only her original boyfriend – who has just crawled into
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the range of the telescopic sights of a Jap sniper in order to rescue his mate. Aren't I a
pleasant sort of bloke to put thoughts like that into my love letter? Actually I was
merely telling you of pretty good effort by a soldier at short story writing – so please
don't misconstrue.
How are things down there on the battlefront? I was pleased to hear that there was no
panic- panic can do more damage than bombs sometimes, can’t it? Still it's just as
well to be prepared for any emergency – and keep your panties close by. Better get
yourself a torch darling, it would be very handy for you. I bet Norma's sleepy eyes
were nearly popping out when you raised the alarm. The only submarine I've heard of
that carries an aeroplane is the old French sub "Suth" (spelling?) 23And she's in
American hands I think. General feeling here is that it was an opening shot in the
publicity campaign for the new War Loan. Personally, I think that even hard-hearted
advertising men wouldn't be game to put that one over. I look forward to reading the
newspaper account of the business.
Which brings me to your 35th letter (I'm answering these as I go along) dated the
22nd – no delay in receiving that one.
"Ding Dong" had his party last night and most of the guests got swamped –
unfortunately I wasn't there and my pay is still intact. Rather would I have the moon
and you than all the parties in the world sweetheart and that makes two hearts with
one desire doesn't it?
One more word about the socks you knitted – one is almost white and the other a
grayish khaki but I wouldn't part with them, honestly. They make me look so
distinguished – everybody thinks I'm wearing odd socks. I couldn't care less what they
think. Your legs must be a nice tan after the day at Manly in the sun. Mine are pretty
white as we wear our long greens most of the time. The weekend leave at the beach
should add a little colour – I hope
Darling, I'd love to have a new snap of you – please get Bruce to take one and send it
up soon, will you?
In a way, it makes me happy to know that you don't like going away without me, but
sweetheart it may be a long time before I get leave and you shouldn't waste so much
of your young life. I want you to enjoy yourself as much as you can while I'm away –
only don't go under the apple tree with anyone else but me, will you? Punctuating
every statement with the question is an old family failing isn't it.
I could chat away about nothing all night tonight but I must remember there are others
to share my beacon. So I'll say good night darling wife with a wish that I meet you in
my dreams. Another one of those extra exclusive kisses and a tight little squeeze in
the hall, from, Your sweetheart husband in green, George.
PS. Love to Mother and Judy and all at 22. Also Mum and Dad – hope they are
feeling a bit better now. Also my Norma and Bruce. Must write to old Brucie. I think
about all of them even if I can't write to each. Kisses G
I've used both pads and had to use both sides, hope you can read it.
***
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27 February 1943. On plain lined writing pad, in ink, without identifying details or
censorship marking.
Dearest Marjorie, True to my promise, at last I'm writing you a letter in ink.
Conditions are not so good – I'm in the back of the ambulance using the top berth as a
table. It's a dull day, raining c’s and d’s and all the flaps of the truck are down so the
light is bad. Yesterday the rest weekend was called off but it's on again today and
we’ll be leaving after lunch in two ambulances. We are anticipating an enjoyable two
days in glorious sunshine after a long spell of wet weather up in the hills. I'll be able
to post this at Innesfail and maybe include a couple of views of the sites round about
the district.
Hope to get a couple of snaps also – light has been too poor to attempt any
photography so far but all in good time my girl. I may have to send the films on to
you to be developed and printed
The Sgt-Maj is screaming out, for George Seagrove - must answer his master's voice
– here I am back again sneaking in a few lines.
In a letter I got from Cec the other day he said this place must be Paradise. The boys
insist that I put you folks straight on that point – Well – I'll give you a description of
Mess Parade this morning and let you draw your own conclusions
Heavy rain was falling at Reveille. We were soaked on Maintenance parade. I had a
shave and a wash under the trees with my slicker on. Then the whistle blew for Mess
Parade. I waded across the muddy track and took up 50th place in the line. Water fell
from the skies, water streamed down my face, water dripped off my slicker on to my
boots which were bogged up to the ankles in mud. Ordered to "right turn, quick
march”. Slowly I slopped up to the improvised tables under a tarpaulin to get the
mess. Holding the "dog" tins over near the copper I was just able to catch the lump of
porridge as it flew off the end of the spoon, held by the server. – Next- flop and it was
covered with milk. Then through a big p puddle to the next dixie – which contains –
guess what – STEW! Lumps of meat and thick liquid made immobile by shreds of
meat. A double round of bread and butter was tossed on top of this. The mess shelter
is about 30 yards from the kitchen and by the time I made this haven, pure freshwater
had diluted still further my breakfast. Being 50th in the line means you stand to eat –
or sit on the ground. A taste of the porridge to discover it's made with chlorinated
water which tastes like ink. The stew looks dark and foreboding so I pass that over –
but the bread and jam – she is good – I like she. Tea not so good with chemicals
added –, out it goes. Back to tent via mud to feed on raisins and chocolate. I
remember eggs on toast and piping hot tea and an untiring wife. I remember
Paradise.
Does that paint the picture dark enough to suit the boys – darling. Usually it's not
quite as bad as that – we do fairly well compared with some other units. I couldn't
care less as long as I can sneak a few slices of bread, tin of jam, a few spuds apples
and supplement with bought provisions plus your parcel.
That brings me to the end of my borrowed sheets of paper so goodbye for now
sweetheart wife. Be a good girl and think of me some times. Kisses and great big hugs
from, Your Soldier, George.
79
***
28 February 1943. Sunday Midday. Numbered 51. On smaller, lined writing pad in
ink, without identifying details or sign of censorship.
Dearest Marjorie, "Life is made up of expectations and disappointments" – how true
that quotation is. At the last moment our trip to the coast was cancelled, owing to rain.
The bridge over which the road runs was four feet under water in the afternoon and
vehicles couldn't get across – we were willing to risk it would not so the powers that
be. Instead, we spent our time making roads and we’re still at it. After tea last night
Pross Ron and I went down to have a look at the Millstream River – pity conditions
weren't suitable or I could have got a marvellous picture. I've seen floodwaters before
but nothing like this. Millions and millions of gallons of water rushing through a steep
gully, guggling and surging over huge boulders tumbling over fixed rocks in
tremendous falls. In the centre, on the flatter parts, the swift current churns up the
water and shoots off the froth into whirlpools and back eddies. Two of our men were
stranded on the other side and the CO asked Pross if he felt confident enough to swim
over the flat and advise them what to do. I think Pross felt a bit flattered and finished
up doing the trip twice. He dived in about 50 yards down from the rapids and finished
up another 50 or so yards further down on the other side. Feels he’s entitled to a
couple of stripes or something. The sun may come out long enough for me to get a
snap this afternoon – but I'm not holding out much hope. It's better to make sure of
good shots as films are so hard to get – don't you think?
Needless to say there was a loud howl and curse from the boys when they were told
they were to become labourers instead of playboys for the weekend – loudest moan
coming from the older of the two Seagrove boys. Only consolation is – it may be on
next weekend. But you got to remember "leave is a privilege – not right"
Len visited us last night and we had a good old gossip exchanging news.
Sunday Night. I'm on Duty Ambulance tonight and have the trouble light fixed up in
the rear cabin so I can continue in comfort. Frank Starr, Billy Kelly, Pross and the rest
of the team are over in the mess shelter listening to Radio Tokio. Frank and Billy
asked me to give you their kindest regards and tell you they are looking forward to the
reunion party. Frank often talks about the party out at Betty's place when he got very
pie-eyed and finished up almost being arrested on Granville Station for singing a duet
with "Bob". He's just the same as ever.
Outside, needless to say, it's pouring. I must keep you informed on weather
conditions, otherwise you might have the impression we’re sweltering in the tropics.
Everywhere, there's water about 3” inches deep at least, so you can realize what the
run-off is like. We are told that the Berdikin River is up 16 ft. over the rail causeway
and that means the mail is held up – airmail letters are the only ones coming through.
The last one from you was numbered 35.
After lunch today I felt I was entitled to a spell from road-making and I disappeared
into this cabin where your letters are stored. I read the whole lot through from start to
finish, darling, and I gather that you still love me, even though mountains and rivers
divide us. One letter had a peculiar effect on me which I’m sure wasn't intended –
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maybe I should throw that one away. Remind me to tell you about it when I see you –
I can't write about it under any circumstances. Perhaps the most touching words were
the first you wrote – "Today my darling I felt my little world was falling all around
me" – that's because I'd also felt mine had tumbled, I suppose. There are a thousand
words written from your heart that I'll treasure and read over and over again. These
are my first and only love letters.
Now I must lay me down to sleep and, who knows and I may meet you in a dream
tonight. Good night darling girl, I love you so much. With that imprint of your lips I
can almost feel you here with me when I kiss it. Always you're only, George.
PS. Good night cuddle is understood of course. And don't forget my love to everyone.
Kisses. G.
***
March 1943
In the Atherton range
1 March 1943. On lined writing pad, numbered 52, in pencil, without identifying
deatisl or sign of censorship.
Dearest Marjorie, I'm happy tonight – your letter dated Feb.25 and an earlier one
from Huntley's Pt., arrived just after tea. It's lovely to know that you've got someone
who will not fail you isn't it?
For the wonder it's not raining and the stars are shining. We've been making roads all
day, loading up trucks with gravel and spreading it over the muddy tracks to make a
hard surface. I was covered with black mud at knockoff time so I got a tub of water
and had a good bath outside the tent. Afterwards I cooked up another tub full and put
my greens into boil – that brings my washing up-to-date. Which is all very boring,
isn't it darling?
I still think you should use Doans Ointment for the eruption on your arm, darling but
be sure to let Doc Brown have a look at it. Don't let it cause you any concern though,
as those sort of complaint soon clear up with proper treatment.
I had to get out of bed this morning at 5 AM in pouring rain to do my share of lighting
fires in the kitchen, filling up sawyers and waking up the camp etc. Unfortunately the
guy who was on before me hadn't made a good start and I had to get stuck into it. The
wood was soaked but kerosene helped a lot and after a long hard struggle I managed
to get them underway. Happy part of the story is – my efforts yielded me four pears,
two tomatoes, one apple and a piece of damper. Also a nice cup of tea. Cookie wasn't
looking.
Tuesday Morning March 2. Breakfast is over: it's a beautiful morning and I'm trying
to scribble a few words before doing the duty round with Dina. With a bit of luck
should be able to take some pictures – that's if mopey Brian finishes his spool.
81
Sweetheart, would you send me up another writing pad when you're making up the
parcel to include my puggaree (remember?) One of these days I'll let you have a
cheque to deploy costs, dear. – At present I’m trying to save a little for the weekend
you've heard so much about. Better start putting a few shekals aside for the big leave
don't you think, or maybe I'll have plenty of time. I wouldn't build too much on May,
sweetheart – it's only a possibility at the moment. Six-monthly leave means a
fortnight at home – doesn't seem possible, does it?
This must be my unfinished story – I'm on the road and about 20 yards from the Post
Office. If I don't post here you have to wait another day so goodbye for now dearest
pal. A big kiss and the tenderest of squeezes from, Your, Me. PS give my love to all
of course.
***
4 March 1943. On lined writing pad paper in pencil.
Dearest Marjorie, Two of your letters reached me today both numbered 37; the first
dated Feb. 27 and the other, March 1. So you can make mistakes in numbering too,
that makes us two of a kind.
I haven't got much to say tonight, darling as nothing much has happened in the last
few hours. Oh, yes Len has moved away to another part of the district so we won't be
seeing much of him now. His new home is about 20 miles from here. There is a
possibility that we may move over to the same area. If not we will certainly be
covering the area which means we will be able to contact him from time to time.
This morning I was on the rank and a call took me to the local police station to pick
up an escaped hospital patient. When I brought him back and was taking him to the
RAP he touched me on the arm and said "Are they still here?" I didn't know what he
was talking about so I said "Who?". Then he looked around and said "the Frenchman
and Dagoes". I was amazed but soon woke up "There’s none of them here" I assured
him, "We got picquets posted all over the place and they couldn't possibly get past, if
they were around"
"They’re here all right", he went on, "I was over at the latrine the other day and I
heard them. I didn't see them but I heard them"
Poor devil! He's probably had a nervous breakdown and needs a spell right away from
everything military.
Tonight I'm over in the mess shelter with all the poker players and radio listeners.
There’s a babble of voices and the Japanese radio announcer is trying to put the wind
up us – very solemnly. It's rather difficult to write under the circumstances, so if
things are a bit disjointed you'll understand, won’t you dear?
Now to answer your letters. First of all I'm happy to know you’re well but of course
your arm couldn't be better yet. Don’t you try to hold anything back from me because
you think it might worry me, darling. I'd rather be told everything, always remember
82
that won't you, darling. You know, I'm not stupid and can take it the same as you.
Always "Be honest with me" and let me know the best or worst.
Isn't it strange the thoughts that come to one's mind without any prompting. At the
moment I can see your lovely little face between the lace and velvet curtains at the
window, No.4 Flat Nortoft. I'm a bit late for tea after having a few beers with the
boys. I have a silly smirk on my face and there’s just the slightest frown of
disapproval on yours. In spite of everything I get that oh-so loving kiss and squeeze
and as usual, my tea is ready and just to my liking. You never failed me whatever I
did – and I was pretty terrible at times, wasn't I? And don't say I was. I was a model
husband or I’ll Crown you, sweetheart. I have crowned you – with the title “Lady of
Quality".
Before I start letting my heart overflow, I'll say "Goodnight" sweetheart or you might
think I'm getting sloppy – and boring.
You like those "you-know-what-kind" of kiss, eh? Well here's two, XX, and a extra
good squeeze from, Your Grasshopper lover – husband, George
***
3 March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in pencil, without identifying
details or sign of censorship, numbered 53.
Dearest Marjorie, Your soldier boy is sitting on his bunk with the pad under the
hurricane lamp and dressed in blue pyjamas. I started wearing the old sleeping suit
again as things are a bit more settled. After tea this evening Ron ("Dina"), Alan
Willoughby and I took a stroll down to the rapids and had a plunge –you can hardly
call it a swim as the current makes swimming just about impossible. The river is back
to normal once more but always there is a strong flow in this particular section.
Norma would have the time of her sweet young life shooting the rapids – it's much
more thrilling than surfing because you don't have to wait for the shoot and there is no
undertow to drag you under. Of course it's a hard battle to get across the main flow of
the current but it's not dangerous as even if you do get carried down there are plenty
of trees or bushes to cling to along the way. Everybody wears his birthday suit.
I had to finish my last letter rather abruptly in order to get away on today's mail. We
had a late trip to the AGH yesterday afternoon and we were anxious to return to camp
– so that we can enjoy a feed en route. My tea last night consisted of two hard-boiled
eggs and toast – the first meal of that kind I’d had since leaving home. Dina was
amazed – couldn't understand my taste. He had a large steak and two fried eggs, chips
etc. Must tell you a little more about this lad. There's a young lass in the cafe whom
he wishes to impress I think, but like old "Ding Dong", "Dina" is very fond of his
tucker and he makes no bones about showing it. The attack started about 9 o'clock and
before long the yellow of the eggs and grease of the steak are beginning to make
themselves visible on his chin below his lower lip. Knife and fork were used
alternatively and special mention in dispatches is deserved for the way the knife was
used without drawing blood. Halfway through, unshaven Dina pauses and looks up to
catch the eye of the damsel who is standing by in the background. "Are ya goin’ to the
dance tomorra night," he asks her through a mouthful of steak and eggs. "Of course I
am," replies the apple of his eye. "Aw gee, we never come through ‘ere when there’s
a dance on " continues Dina, "Gee, Gorgeous, your beautiful." She's not and she goes
83
to bed. Dina turns to me and says "Thought I was doin’ all right there, but it don't look
like it now" and I say "Don't be silly Ron, she is keen on you – she’s probably a bit
tired tonight". He a great big generous kid, shy and about the most untidy person you
could possibly meet. Always saying "Gees, I tired, I could sleep for a week"
We camped out on the road near Milla Milla again last night and got our full quota of
shuteye and when we got back, Dina still felt like taking a nap. Don’t think from
these remarks he shirks his share of work – he's not a bit like that and he’s a good
mate.
Pross and Joe are away tonight and won't be back until about lunch time tomorrow –
Wednesday is always a fairly busy day and it's only because our truck has to be
maintenanced that we are here. The more work we get the better we like it however.
Ding Dong called in a few minutes again and asked me to give you his kind regards.
Also Billy Kelly who is in lying on his bunk alongside of me.
Well darling it's "Lights Out" and the orderly sergeant is screaming out as usual so I'll
have to say "Goodnight" to you. Hope I get a letter from you in the morning's mail as
I haven't heard from you for two days. All my love my sweetheart and a big kiss
from, and Your own, George.
PS. How are you feeling dear, and how is your arm? Do you think the blood donation
had anything to do with it? You haven't told me about the present I told you to get for
yourself, (refer earlier letter).
***
March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship, numbered 54.
Dearest Marjorie, I'm down at Innisfail at last and taking this opportunity to drop you
a line so that you know I am thinking of you everywhere I go.
We are booked in at an hotel for bed-and-breakfast which we just had. Not a bad sort
of place and very reasonable (5/-) I'll have to tell you more about it in my next letter
as the lads are getting a bit restless. A swim out at Eddy Bay is first thing on the
programme I believe. Then a look around the district and town.
We arrived at 5.30 last night and everyone made a rush for the beer which didn’t last
long. Finished up with three bottles of “Bombo” and went to the local dance – I got
up once and found I couldn't stop my feet from sliding around and annoying the dame
I was dancing with. Gave it away as a bad job and became a wallflower for the rest of
the night. Surprising the number of civilians – suppose they are farmers. This town is
lousy with dagoes~ they seem to own every shop. I haven't had a chance to see what's
what yet but first impression is Innisfail is (or was) a wealthy town. A wide bitumen
road through the centre and large shops at intervals – plenty of pubs and a lovely little
park. I told you in an earlier letter this district is probably the best sugar growing
country in Australia.
84
Well darling will have to finish this scribble and go for that swim. Darling I love you.
Until my next letter, goodbye and a kiss of the usual kind – and the old squeeze of
course. Always Yours, George.
PS. Unfortunately haven't been able to take any snaps as dopey Brian still has a film
in the camera. Love to all and another kiss for you. G
***
8 March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship, numbered 55.
Dearest Marjorie, I know I forgot to put the date on the letter written down on the
coast – it should have been March 7, yesterday, if you care. My memory for such
minor details is appalling even though I have the calendar you sent quite handy
always.
The party boarded the truck at 7 o'clock last night and suffered a most uncomfortable
trip back over the hills – but Lady it was well worth it. I think I told you we had a
rather wet evening on Saturday and went to a dance where I had one whirl around the
floor and then sat down. A complete resume of the conversation whilst dancing: –
George: I had a few beers tonight!
Young Lady: Obviously!
I wished I had gone to the pictures.
Sunday morning we had breakfast at the hotel and I dashed out that note to you then
we all hopped aboard the three tonner and away we went out to Etty Bay. Well,
believe you me, baby, I had the swim of my life. The water is crystal clear and
lukewarm and there are plenty of shady trees right on the beach. I was in for about six
hours at least so you can imagine how lovely it was. Locals told us, sharks don't come
into the bay but a crocodile was spotted in the vicinity sometime ago – needless to say
we didn't take any risks. A family of residents were there when we arrived and of
course we had a yarn with them. They were extremely kind people and they shared
their tucker with us – fifteen of us, mark you. All the refreshment places (one to be
exact) were closed and Innisfail is 12 miles inland. I had a really swell time with a
nice little girl aged 14 and a fair dinkum Aussie who couldn't have seen more than
three summers. You should have seen him running into that water in the raw – not
interested in anything else but the swim. No paddling for this bloke – he liked to feel
the water up around his chest. We’re all looking forward to another rest day down
near the Pacific.
Now for your letter numbered 39, dated March 4 which came with this morning's
delivery. First of all, your memory is very good – I got a thrill when I read that you
remembered about the little incident at Kurnell.
Norma's letter reached here yesterday and was waiting for me when I came in last
night. She certainly seems to be having a whale of a time down at the Old Kiama.
Remember how bored she was when the three of us spent the weekend there. I wasn't
85
so bored myself – especially at night. Norma thinks the four of us should try it out
sometime – maybe we will, eh?
Pross heard from Cec today and he mentions the Wagga move – doesn't seem too
pleased about it. Perhaps he'll get a reclassification down there – hope so anyway.
Dear old Dulce sent me a parcel of goodies which must have cost her a lot.
Darling tell her not to do that – everybody is so kind but I know that times are hard
and it can't be done. As long as I get a few letters I am happy. For the present
goodbye my sweetheart, and look after yourself. All my love and one of those big
squeezes. Ever Your own, George.
PS. Glad to hear Jim Driscoll is home. Have heard they are coming up this way. Love
to all G
PPS. Have pinched a puggaree but another one won't go astray. Thanks, darling! G.
***
10 March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship, also numbered 55.
Dearest Marjorie, Tonight everyone one seems to have the writing bug—the tent is
like the YMCA and silence has been declared. We rigged the electric light fittings
today but unfortunately the plant is not working so we still do not know if our wiring
is OK or not.
Dina and I had a job to do at Herberton yesterday. Also Pross and Joe. However we
didn't see Len and there wasn't time to hunt around for him. Had a good tea at the
usual place – hamburger and egg with jellied fruits to follow.
Coming back across the Range we struck the low-lying clouds which reduced our
speed to about 5 mph – got in after midnight. I ignored the whistles for parades this
morning and continued to pound the pillow with my ear until 8 o'clock. Mail arrived
at 11.30 but none for me.
The other day when I was reading through your letters I noticed something I hadn't
answered about the N.A.P. uniform – if Jeff Cluff still wants it, sell it to him by all
means. It's worth about 30/- or so I think – whatever you consider, anyhow. The darn
thing is no good to me and doesn't fit me anyway.
I've just been for a walk across the way – nearly a quarter of a mile – in my pyjamas.
Didn't hear any rumours worth repeating but the stars are shining bright and I made a
wish that our hopes for May will be realised.
Now dear, there's very little for me to say and I've got to battle out a couple of letters
to your sisters so for the time being,' bye' bye. The guy whose picture reposes on your
mantel-shelf is always thinking of you – and dreaming too – one of these days he’s
going to walk down Collingwood Street and stand at the front door and give the old
whistle you know so well. That'll be the day won’t it darling? Sleep well, dear girl and
meet me in your dreams. Ever Your Own, George.
PS Col sends his regards. Give my love to all. A big kiss and hug for my darling wife.
G.
***
86
12 March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship.
Dearest Marjorie, We have the electric light on in the tent tonight and, baby is it an
improvement on the hurricane? She flickers a bit but at least we can see what we're
writing. As usual there's plenty of talk going on around me and I haven't much to say
except "How are you darling wife?" And "I love you". How is the spot on your arm?
Has it cleared up yet and how are your pretty little curls? I didn't receive a letter from
you today but perhaps I'll be in luck tomorrow.
I just remembered I got a letter yesterday that I haven't answered haven't I? It's in
front of me now.
I told Joe what you said about the choc-box and he says you are vindicated in his
estimation. Wait till Woolworths make those Jersey caramels again – we’ll have them
on the sideboard every weekend, won’t we darling? And we’ll have our friends
around on Sunday for tea like we used to.
Don't blame me for being a little bit jealous about the guys who are lucky enough to
be near you – it shows I love you, in my case anyway.
I wrote to Norma last night and told her I hadn't had an opportunity to take any snaps
yet but we may get a few this weekend – if Brian snaps out of that coma.
You may depend upon me taking very good care of your grasshopper. Although the
roads up here are dangerous, the speed limit makes them pretty safe and the provosts
are policing that side of it pretty well. This afternoon one of our trucks went over the
side and once again fate was kind – nobody was hurt except for a few scratches. The
steering column broke and the driver, who is quite new at the game, evidently didn't
apply his brakes. I may be wrong but that's my view of it and I think a more
experienced driver would have avoided the accident.
Sister, you old married woman, don't let me stop you getting around. You can't coup
yourself up for months, as long as you don't fall for one of those Yanks they tell me
about, I won't mind. Of course my darling, I know you wouldn't go under the apple
tree with anyone else but me – don’t think I have ever doubted that.
It's funny to think that it so dry down South when up here in the tropics it's so wet. If
you had your garden in this district you’d have no trouble in growing anything.
When you see Mrs Rowse tell her I was pleased to hear from her and give her my
love. Hope she is well. I’ll have to mix her up one of my gin and lime specials and use
up some of her beer in the ‘frig – that's when the good old times come back again.
Sorry to hear Bill has had malaria, we see a lot of it up here and we know what it's
like – wont there be a happy time when he gets back, I'd like to be there, too.
87
Will close now sweetheart and have a bath before "lights out". The water is just about
boiling. An extra special squeeze and "you know the kind" kiss from, Your only
sweetheart, George.
PS love to all. Pross has a Lettercard from Cec telling him about the change in plans.
I'm feeling like a million dollars – never better. Pross sends his love.
***
14 March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship
Dearest Marjorie, I have two of your letters to answer to night – one arrived
yesterday and the other this morning. I had a trip up to the AGH yesterday afternoon
and we camped on the road instead of coming back in the middle of the night. Arose
at 9:30 AM – but don't tell the sergeant major. After lunch I spent an hour or so with
my washing – so once again I'm up-to-date with that.
Pross Jo and Bill are out today but they should be back shortly and we have a few
bottles of beer to wash down the dust. We’re all on picquet tonight but that won’t
worry us much. – I’m on from 4 to 6.30 tomorrow morning but don’t have to light the
fires as the old system has been re-instituted.
The weather has been lovely lately and the occasional shower keeps the dust down
and helps bind the surface of the roads. A slight breeze has been blowing during the
last couple of days and it's quite fresh – think it would be rather cold up here in winter
time – especially at night.
Maybe my description of the Mess parade was a little too gloomy – this place is not
Hell by any means even though there are a few guys who make out that it is.
Anywhere is uncomfortable when its raining, isn't it? As for thinking of you when
things are tough, – I think of "little old Drummoyne and you" in rain hail and shine.
Glad to hear everyone is well and that Bill is still with Betty – the enemy plane alarm
may keep him down there – I hope.
I can picture Ann looking up and telling you you're nice and quite understand why she
feels that way about you. Suppose by now she is used to the school idea –.
LATER: it's now about five minutes to ten and have just had a few beers with the
boys.: Colin Adams has been with us all night – he’s the lad that called on Mother
when he was on leave. He's enjoyed himself, I think.
March 15. Will finish here darling so that there will be no delay. All my love
sweetheart and kisses from your own, Me
PS. Hope you enjoyed "Fantasia", would have liked to have seen it with you. Give my
love to Mum and Dad and Norma and All. G
***
88
15 March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship
Dearest Marjorie, I've just read through your letter No. 43 again – it reached me this
morning. You had been up to see Betty – has she started to wear maternity frocks yet
or isn't she going to bother since these are austerity times? Tell her she needn't think
I'm going to the pictures with her – people might think I'm to blame. Give her my love
and say I knew she had it in her, as Dorothy Parker once said. I'm still waiting to hear
from her but I suppose she's very busy knitting baby's booties and things.
I'm lying in bed writing this letter so the scribble is worse than ever. Feeling pretty
tired tonight after a pretty heavy day under the truck and a bit of washing tacked on
the end.
Yesterday we had the first fatality in the unit – one of the returned infantry men was
drowned near the rapids. Evidently took a last dive and his foot caught in between
two rocks. A squad from the ambulance went down and a life-saver brought him up
after some time. They applied artificial respiration for a long time but it was too late. I
believe he was a strong swimmer, too. The order now is that no less than three are to
go for a swim, for safety's sake. Accidents will happen even in the best of regulated
families and was just bad luck that such a thing occurred.
March 16: Here I am again dear trying to rake up something to say – I couldn't finish
last night as I had to go out on a job. It’s still fine, except for an odd shower or two
and the cool nights makes sleeping a pleasure. However in keeping with the rest of
the army I can sleep at any time, anywhere, lying, sitting or standing.
How' s little Mum, today? Your little Dad's in tip-top form once more, but mighty
bored. We're supposed to be going on a 60 mile route march down to the coastal
district this week and that should relieve the monotony a bit. We've still got plenty to
do but it's mostly short trips around the camp. If I do go on this hike there’ll be a few
days break in my correspondence so don't get alarmed and think something has
happened to me. Just a possibility that the Transport won't go but I hope they do and
me with them.
Frank Starr is running around with a pair of scissors in his hand wanting to cut
everybody's hair. I had a look at the job he made of Ding Dong's crop and decided I
wouldn't let him practice on me. Col's hair has a few severe steps in it and a couple of
tracks across the back. Nobody thinks Frank will make a barber.
I received another letter from Hugh Walker yesterday and he seemed in great spirits.
He met Mitch and they had a few beers together – both are anxious to get home.
Hughie said he read the Mirror story of Frank Andrews "rise to fame" and remarks
that it's all "bull". Frank evidently met Hooper, who is Eric Baume's offsider in
London, and gave him a first-hand account of how good Frank Andrews is and how
he commanded great fees in Australia. Hooper wired the story to the "Mirror"." Take
those cables with a grain of salt", says Hughie, "They are mostly a figment of
Hooper's imagination".
I may send the letter on to you later but I've got to find time to answer it first.
89
Whenever I think of Hughie, I always remember two "incidents". One was the time
when the two of us were working back and he had a bad cold which we tried to cure
with rum. Finished up with me carrying Hughie to a taxi. The other occasion was
when we arrived at "Nortoft" one Saturday afternoon a little the worse for wear, much
to your annoyance after waiting dinner for about four hours. We were forgiven,
eventually but then we had a date with Trevor at Rozelle. Remember when we arrived
back and you had a nice tea set up in the lounge. Pickled onions, I believe, were a
source of great trouble to the "Little Admiral" – and he had to meet his mother to see
"The Wizard of Oz ".
Well darling, I'd better not go any further or you might get angry again – and I
wouldn't blame you, seeing that wasn't by any means the first time I'd offended in like
manner. Until you hear from me again sweetheart goodbye and another one of those
"you know what sort of" kisses and a nice little cuddle up, From your own, George.
Love to all, I'll try to write to them soon. How would you like a night down at
Austinmer as before?. G.
***
18 March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship
My dearest Marjorie, The mail truck brought me your letter written on Saturday
March 13, this morning. You numbered it 54 which is not quite right – you're getting
to be as bad as I am. I'm always deciding to work out a system of numbering and then
promptly forget about it. However as long as we're sure none are missing it doesn't
matter, does it?
I liked that dream of yours – I think I’ll come home again tonight darling. Meet you
under the apple tree – is it a date?
Well, sweetheart I didn't go on the march down to the coast. As a matter of fact only
one section went so the correspondence still goes on.
A friend of Allan's is going on leave tonight and he is going to ring Mrs Joe Young
when he arrives and is Sydney and give her the news. Mrs Joe will phone Cecil and
pass it on. Don't worry too much Darling will you, I can't bear to think of you being
that way. Anyway I've always said nothing is certain until you see the numbers go up.
I wrote another letter to Dulcie last night in answer to one I received from her – crikey
everybody down your way seems to have nerves. Glad I'm not a civilian – a bloke
might get bumped off. Dulce should take a holiday – it would be a good investment in
health.
Fancy Bill Rouse coming home- I was going to have a couple of bottles of supper
with him one night, I thought.
So far the puggaree and writing paper hasn't come but I'll get them eventually – let
you know how the pug fits – maybe I should have asked for size larger to go over hat.
90
Darling I just heard there’s a picture showing on the road tonight. Think I'll go for a
change if you don't mind. Good night my darling and a big kiss, the squeeze is
included without saying. Will write tomorrow night always your only Georgie. I love
you more than ever. G
***
19 March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship. This letter’s opening sentence is a coded reference to a
possibly imminent embarkation not having been finalised.
My dearest Marjorie, As you have noticed the numbers haven't gone up and the race
is still on. It's now about 11 o'clock and I'm working overtime only I don't get paid for
it. Tonight we had another visit by Colin Adams and a friend and they brought a bag
full of beer – we weren't so fortunate and our contribution was nil. The only thing
available to us was two bottles of 50-50 but of course that remains unopened awaiting
some hot weather.
Hope you received my air-mail letter written yesterday and will understand how I feel
about things. I'll write to you as often as possible but you know it's very hard to rake
up news so don't get alarmed if you don't hear from me for a few weeks. Whenever
there's anything to write about I’ll drop you a line.
Sorry I had to break off my last letter so abruptly, darling but I felt very much like a
little mental stimulant and the boys wanted me to go with them to the pictures. I
would have started to write earlier and made it a long letter, only I had to do some
washing. Last night when I went to bed everything was spick and span – but I still
have to darn a couple of pairs of socks. No, don't rush me any more because I still
have three new pairs in my lowboy.
How's my little angel tonight? I wonder what she's doing at this very moment? She
should be in my bed – or is it yours – getting her beauty sleep. Is she dreaming of me
or lying awake thinking of me?
You know, I think I'll let you into a secret while I'm in the mood. Don't laugh because
this is a very serious. Once, when I was a little boy, I used to read fairy stories and
imagine I was the Prince riding a big white charger. I always got a thrill when the
Prince met the lovely lady and fell in love with her, because she was so beautiful so
kind and gentle. I often wondered if Princesses really lived in this world. Then there
came a day when I saw one and she was real. She was leaning with her elbows on the
rail of a verandah and she had fair hair and a pretty little nose. I watched her and
waved to her and sometimes she would walk down the street and smile up at me. And
this Princess had sturdy shapely legs which I couldn't help admiring, with stocking
seams running straight up the centre of the calf of each, never carelessly adjusted. But
she smiled at everyone and not particularly for me and my heart was beating when I
thought that she would confer favours on another. One night the Princess was
standing in her garden and a friend and I happened to be passing. We spoke to her and
introduced ourselves and so I became acquainted with her. Before very long I was
overjoyed to learn that she had more than a passing interest in me and as the weeks
rolled into months we came to know each other and found common interests. So a
great love was born.
91
Darling, I haven't gone mad – it's just the mood I'm in tonight. Maybe it's the moon,
which is making everything so lovely – and lonely.
Anyhow, Princess, I love you more than anything else in life and I’ll never change
come what may. Now I'll go to bed and hope to dream I am at your side. Good night,
my darling and may happiness be yours forever. A big kiss and hug from
"Prince" Grasshopper
Me.
PS. Love to Mum Dad Norma and everyone. Tell Mother and Judy the parcels of cake
and chocs arrive safely. Will write again to them shortly. G.
***
21 March 1943. Lined, lightweight writing pad paper numbered 70 (“pending
adjustment”) in pencil, without identifying details or sign of censorship.
Dearest Marjorie, Your letter numbered 45 (March 15) came to me yesterday and
your numbering is now in order. I'm going to make a real effort to straighten mine out
this time. I'll call this one 70 and you'll have to let me know how far I'm out – I’ll
keep a note of it on the blotter of this pad and bring the others into line as soon as I
hear from you.
Next time you see Miss Em Wilson will you tell her I appreciate her kind thoughts
and good wishes. Hope she is enjoying the best of health and is still her bright cheery
self.
Mention of the Sunday night crowd brings back memories. I can imagine the radio
tuned into the Lux play or your father listening to "Quiz Kids" and the rest talking in
groups of two or three. Betty of course would have a half-knitted booty on the end of
a couple of needles. The fat thing! – Bill may be lucky enough to be around for a few
more months – that is if his CO is not too anxious to go into action like some of them
are. I can't understand these guys who are breaking their necks to risk their necks
before the right time. Everyone will get a chance at that before this war's over I think.
Anyhow Betty has one consolation about her position and that is – she's not the only
one like that. I know have a half dozen of our lads who are about to become fathers
and they haven't a chance of being there when the great event occurs.
Sorry to hear your arm is not better – give Doans a try and use it regularly, all the
time I should say.
I'm rushing this note during the lunch break so please don't mind the scribble darling
will you?
We had a pleasant surprise yesterday when we learned the old Padre had arrived in
the area. There is a church parade this afternoon when he comes over to see us. He is
now a Major. No matter where that man goes he’s spoken of with the deepest
reverence in spite of his hit-hitting and straight shooting. His fight is against sin and
he goes wherever sinners are without fear of anyone except God. His pulpit is the
universe without creed or sect. Sounds like I'm making a sermon doesn't it?.
92
I was surprised to hear you'd been to the Doctor again with Norma – thought she had
fully recovered. You're right – I'm sure that I could make her better – I'm have such a
soothing nature.
I forgot to tell you that the lad we picked up from the Police Station was a sergeant
with a very fine record. – Won the MM over in the Middle East. Don't know how he's
getting on as he passed out of our hands some time ago.
And that my darling is all I have time to say now. Goodbye sweetheart, Kisses and
love from your one and only, Me.
***
22 March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship
Dearest Marjorie, I've just returned from a sightseeing tour of Tully Falls and I
feeling very tired after the hard climbing. Oh, darling, how I wish you could see this
lovely sight and enjoy the lovely walks around look-outsThe falls look beautiful from
from the tops but from the bottom right in the basin they are magnificent – I've never
seen anything so awe-inspiring in my life. Bill, Dina and I first walked to the
"Cauldron Lookout” right at the brink of the falls (which must be nearly 400 feet to
the first level) where the river rushes like mad into sharp crevices and out over the
side in a snow-white torrent. You can't realise properly, how magnificent they are
from this point so when we saw the tiny figures of people below we decided to find
the way down. The track is very steep, dropping about one in two and we were down
below in twenty minutes or less, hanging onto trees to stop ourselves from bolting.
Standing on a huge rock looking up at those tons and tons of water roaring down
those hundreds of feet gives one a feeling of extreme smallness. The spray is thrown
up and it's like a fine rain all the time. We were wet through in no time. On three sides
the gorge is sheer rock as if cut by a great knife. If you can imagine something about
twice the height of Bridal Veil with the Nepean flowing over it, you might have some
idea of Tully Falls. I'm glad I've seen this sight – may be we’ll take a trip to Cairns
one of these days and do all the sights around these parts. What do you say?
I received your letter number 46 today Darling and I felt a little bit sad to think you're
missing me so much. I was hoping to get home in a couple of months time but of
course that was only hope, as I told you before. Still I haven't given up altogether, yet.
I can't understand why Norma hasn't received the reply I wrote to her letter which she
wrote to me from Kiama. I answered that one almost immediately so perhaps it's gone
astray. Or has it turned up now? Let me know won’t you sweetheart?
I think I forgot to tell you that the parcel of writing pads etc reached me and they will
do fine.
How you my darling and how is your arm? Is it getting any better? You know I think
you should report to the Blood Donor's Section at Sydney Hospital and I'm sure the
Medical Officer would give you any advice free of charge.
93
Must close now, dear and get this letter away. Keep the old chin up and don't make
yourself sick working too hard. All my love dear and one of those special kisses and
hugs from, Your, Me.
PS. Love to all
***
24 March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship
Dearest Marjorie, I haven't any of your letters to answer because I haven't received
any for a couple of days and there's not much to write about tonight. Things are just
about the same and we are very very busy. Do you know if Cecil has heard from Joe's
wife yet – I was wondering if the baby had arrived – it's due any time now, you know.
The usual bulletins from the office reached me yesterday with the usual lot of tripe by
a mob of amateur copywriters, (most of them). One point of interest though. Miss
Green says "I had a grand surprise last week. Jack Hocking walked in on Monday
morning. He's just arrived back from the Middle East where he has been for the past
nine months." That was a coincidence, I answered Hughie's letter the other day and in
it I enquired if he had heard anything of Jack – he just disappeared, didn't he?
By the way did I tell you I got a second letter from Hugh – this one by airmail which
cost him one shilling and threepence to send. He had met Mitch and they sank a few
noggins during a long conversation on old times.
I understand that Tom le-Paye is up in Queensland somewhere but I think it must be
in the South from what I can remember.
Dick Christie is parked up around Darwin and Mick has joined the Army – Armoured
Div. camouflage. The rest of the bulletin concerns businesses – mostly hooey.
How is my little darling to night? Not too sad I hope and enjoying the best of health.
How's that arm – I’ll keep on asking that question until I know it's clearing up. Let the
sun get to it as much as you can, dear. There's great healing properties in the sun's
rays as you know
What’s happened to all my bright correspondence down there. I counted up the
number of letters owing to me the other day and you know that amounted to no less
than seven, not including yours. You know the old saying "If you want to get a job
done in a hurry ask the man who’s busy” – that's very true isn't it?
But there’s one whom I can depend on never to let me down and I will never fail her.
Bet there will be a letter from her tomorrow.
Once again I'm scratching around for something to say and everybody's laughing and
talking. Oh. – I haven't taken those pictures yet. Brian is still thinking about the
brevity of his honeymoon or something I think, so you’ll just have to be patient, like
me. The guy who makes Brian move in a hurry will have to be a better man than I.
94
Until my next scribble I'll say goodbye and happy dreams sweetheart. I love you so
much. Ever yours,
George.
PS love to all. How's that Betty's weight? Kisses and squeeze for you.
***
28 March 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink, without identifying
details or sign of censorship.
Dearest Marjorie, Now I'm going to answer letter number 48 written on March 22
and which as you know reached me yesterday. First of all let me ask you if you have
been up to the dentist about that tooth – you should be spanked if you haven't.
The weather up here continues to be fine – hot sunny days and cold nights but we
don't worry what it will be like as we can't do anything about it. The electric light was
a grand idea but it didn't last long and I'm writing this in the back of the bus – strictly
against the rules. Hope you'll forgive the scrawl.
Your remarks re Aussies and Yanks are noted with pleasure – really I think just a
minority of the Yanks are bringing a bad name to the whole American army. These
guys have very loud mouths, no respect for women at all it seems and they usually
finish up with a couple of black eyes that usually sit on the end of an Aussie fist. The
other night at a local dance a Yank had a dance with a girl and afterwards escorted
her to a seat. I suppose she was a little friendly so he ran his hand up the top part of
her leg in full view of everyone, mind you. She lashed out with her feet and kicked
him over. Then a big returned bloke walked over and took hold of him and laid him
cold. Now wasn't that nice.
I'll tell Bill Rowse all the news from home when I see him. When you see Mrs Rowse
give her my love and ask her for Mac's address and send it on to me but you won't
give any place names or the censor may be on your track.
I got a letter from Mother today which I will try to answer later – it's so very hard
when you can’t say this and you can't say that. Go down and give her a bit of a cheer
up will you darling? Judy seems to have a bad attack of writer’s cramp – I suppose
she's busy and gets too tired – better put her on the Andrews don't you think – now
don't rush and send me another tin because I still have the last lot, practically
untouched.
How is your garden growing Marj – any more vegs or flowers in. Bet the trees are
tree-mendous now. What a pity it's not possible for me to send you some ferns and
other bush plants. Here are the makings for the most wonderful rockeries in the world
but miles away from anywhere.
Have to go now darling – its Sunday morning and I'm taking the boys out for a run to
the falls. Love and kisses from Your Me. PS. I still love you like I used ta. G.
***
95
28 March 1943,[also]. On lightweight lined standard writing pad paper in faint ink,
without identifying details or sign of censorship: numbered 74.
Dearest Marjorie, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. Your letter numbered 47 came
yesterday as expected and I would have won my bet. Sorry I can't arrange it so that
you get my letters one at a time but I write as often as possible and don't hold them
up.
When I see Callan I'll pass on your message – just leave it to me.
My cold is better and I'm feeling in the "pink" – as for eating, I'll have to start dieting
to keep down my weight. Pross too is in good trim. We're been getting a lot of baked
beans lately and although too much of a good thing is worse than too little so far I
haven't got tired of them.
Last night three of us went to the Pictures and saw "Here comes Mr Jordon". I don't
think you saw it did you? It was well worth the effort and I had a good old laugh. Rob
Montgomery, Edward Everett Horton and Jimmy Gleason turned in a wonderful
performance especially Gleason
I wish you had been with me – I always seemed to get more kick out of movies when
you were sitting beside me, darling. And while we’re on the subject of movies, why
don't you take your Mother and Dad to see "Meet John Doe" which according to the
newspapers is showing at the Regent – or maybe it's finished. Should be a good show
and one I'm sure we would have done together.
How about that present you were going to buy yourself from me – you haven't
mentioned it yet. On your way now, lady, and scout around the big stores for
something nice. I suppose you have already gotten yourself a pair of austerity shoes –
you know the ones I mean – the real "Dutchies" turned up toes and wooden soles 2”
thick. Or don't you care about them. When I get an opportunity I’ll send you
something but there’s not much around here worthwhile. A blade of grass, or a
pressed or a piece of tree bark are not very thrilling are they? And the postal
authorities won't allow baby wallabies in the post
The weather up here for the past couple of weeks has been glorious – very little rain
and a cool fresh breeze most of the time. The nights are getting pretty chilly
especially in the early hours after midnight – comparable to the climate on the
Northern Rivers of New South Wales I think. I was looking at the bright clear sky
last night, dear, and thinking how that moon and stars were looking down on you and
all the folks at home. I could see you, head pillowed, sleeping the sleep of a babe
perhaps dreaming "oh my darlin’ luv of thee”. That guy in the picture had his wicked
eye on you. Notice the way his eyes follow you around.
Mail has just arrived being your number 48 letter but I'm not going to answer that
now as I want something to put in my next. One thing though, you go to the dentist
right away and have your mouth attended to. It's foolish to let a thing like that go on
suffering needlessly.
For the present goodbye sweetheart darling with that extra special kiss and love.
Always the same old, Me.
***
96
29 March 1943. On heavier lined writing pad quarto sized, numbered 75, in pencil,
no identifying details or sign of censorship..
Dearest Marjorie,
Here I am once more scratching away beside a poor light perched at the head of my
bed. I haven't had a letter from you for a couple of days and I do hope that one arrives
tomorrow. Have you received all mine, especially the one addressed to Bett's place –
don't think I've gone crazy because I know you go out there often and I wanted that
letter to come as a surprise.
How is my little Mum this day? Still got her shoulders squared I hope! You know,
darling, there are so many things I'd like to say but I couldn't put them down on paper.
You know that don't you sweetheart? One of these days I'm going to whisper a lot of
sweet nothings in your little ear and make up for all days we've been apart, so don't
get disheartened.
Then there will be no war, no tears, no partings and we’ll settle down again and you
can throw as many clocks at me as you like. By the way what did I do to make you
chuck the timepiece in my direction? I have a hazy recollection of the incident but I'm
blowed if I can remember what caused the upset. And those marks on the felt you
wrote about in an earlier letter – I'm afraid you'll have your work cut out knocking me
back to the way the civilised people live. Think we'd better go in for wall-to-wall
floral carpet, don't you?
Pross has just asked me to get you to deliver a message to Mother. Tell her he’s very
well – picture of health as a matter of fact – but like the rest of us is very busy and has
nothing to write about anyhow. He's going to try to scratch out a few words tomorrow
– he hopes. Love and kisses to all from both of us – we’re in fine spirits (nonalcoholic).
I suppose you are trying to accustom yourself Eastern Standard Time now. It's fooled
me completely tonight – my watch is out of order and I was gauging the time by the
failing daylight. To my surprise I was one hour out – and then I woke up. Still it's
much easier to get up when it's light isn't it? Never did fancy the idea of rising by the
light of the moon.
I can hardly see what is going down on the paper – the light has the flickers, the glass
is almost black and three of us are shuffling for the best positions.
Yesterday Major Ridley came over and held a church service and afterwards
Communion with a few of us. A very earnest little prayer was said for our loved ones,
first in silence individually and then by the Padre on behalf of everyone. He said he
was sure that a daily prayer would bring a great comfort no matter how far we were
away. I believe that.
Now my darling wife, I'll finish while there is a clean piece of glass left on the lamp. I
love you, sweetheart more than I can ever tell you. Good night and God bless you.
Ever yours, Me
PS. Pross wants a cover for his watch – an oblong leather one. Will you ask Julie to
buy it for him and send it on as soon as possible. G.
***
97
31 March 1943. On heavier, lined, quarto sized writing pad paper, numbered 76, in
pencil, without identification or censorship.
Dearest Marjorie
I have just finished writing to Betty in reply to a letter which arrived from her
yesterday with your No.49.. There's very little I can say and like you, I'm scratching
the thinning thatch trying to find words to fill up the paper.
Outside the truck is little black kitten which "Dina" found wobbling around the
railway yards. The boys bought the few gallons of milk this morning so pussy’s lucky
although it's squeaking like one of those rubber dolls.
From where I'm sitting I can see a few cows wandering around – why hamburgers are
not cheap around these parts beats me. The cows certainly take great risks with the
trains – wander wherever they like, nobody seems to own them.
Yesterday was a glorious day and we had fairly easy time in the afternoon. Today
there is a strong wind and it's cloudy – the sort of day Noel Rubie doesn't like much.
Beer is rationed one bottle per man and the only whiskey I've had is the nip Mother
sent so there's no need for you to tell me to put more water with it. Really I think I
should raid a pub or something and add more whiskey but I'm not game.
Hope the tone of my letters is not too sad or make me sound as if I'm too tired.
Although it's not much good being anything else but too tired when you’re in the
army.
How is your cold, Darling and your arm and your face? Mother said you and Anne
had called and were both suffering with severe cold -- look after yourselves dear and
don't take any risks with your health.
About that Christmas dinner – make sure you have some nice fresh bread, plenty of
butter, cheese and a few bottles of supper – and some peanuts. Can have a lovely
party by ourselves somewhere, with a special menu like that, can't we? How well I
remember those good old nights lying on the floor in front of the gas fire with a light
supper and Sherry to add to the glow of the subdued light. You don't have to have
millions of pounds to be happy – money doesn't mean much does it?
So until my next scribble I'll send you a lingering kiss and hug with a wish to be near
you sooner than we expect. Ever your, Me
PS. Do you know what the soldier in the picture on your mantelpiece is thinking? G
***
98
April 1943
Ravenshoe to Townsville and first real censorship.
2 April 1943. On heavier, lined, quarto sized writing pad paper, numbered 77, in
pencil, without identification or censorship. This letter, it transpires, was written
from Townsville.
Dearest Marjorie, What a lot I could say today but how little I'm able to at this stage.
The sun is blazing down and even in shorts only, I'm perspiring freely (sweating in
other words). The sea breeze should cool things down later on, I hope and if possible
I'll have a surf. That's the trouble with this business one day you're wet and cold next
your burning and dry – particularly dry in this area.
There I go spending all the time on the weather but I'm afraid there ain't much more.
3 April 1943. After a long search I eventually located Sue Callan and she gives me to
understand that she is going down South seven days from now. So I'll give her a few
views for you – you could arrange to have them picked up from Miss Mac on the
switchboard. That's if I can get them of course.
I haven't heard from you for a few days darling, but that is to be expected always in
these times. Keep on writing, I'll get them eventually – I'll do the same for you, so
don't get discouraged.
I must go now sweetheart – will try to write again later on in the day. Always
remember that when you feel a bit sad, darling girl, that I'm thinking of you and
longing for you and loving you. Be cheerful and think – "well, it could be worse."
And don't forget our Christmas Dinner.
Always your loving, Me.
PS. I love you so much.
.***
5 April 1943. On exercise book sized lined writing pad paper, in pencil, without
identification or censorship, numbered 78.
Dearest Marjorie, Last night I met Su and had a long chat with her and gave her your
message. She is very well and has become thoroughly acclimatised. I hope to be able
to see her again before she goes home but of course that may not be possible as she is
staying at a place quite a fair way from here.
Things are very much the same so I haven't anything to write about as usual. I got
acquainted with a Yank on Saturday night and cracked a bottle of sherry with him –
the only "suds" I've had for long time. The guy was a farmer from Georgia with the
real Dixie drawl and I found him pretty difficult to understand but when he offered
me three packets of cigarettes I knew what he meant alright. We had a good old
chinwag – he was telling me how good it was way back home and I was telling him
he hadn't seen anything yet. Well it passed the time away anyway.
99
How's my sweetheart today? I haven't had a letter for almost a week which is very
sad. Still I know it's not your fault, and like you said, I'll be patient and wait, as
everything comes to those who wait. The weather up here is rather oppressive during
the day – hot and muggie, improving slightly with the sea breeze. At night I sleep
under the stars beneath a tent mosquito net, usually in the altogether and it's quite
cool. Mozzies are here by the millions-, without a net they would cart me off,
complete, I think. Another thing I shall never forget about this place is the number of
toads and frogs – they sit up and stare and then go leaping for the lick of their lives. I
hate to think of treading on the slimy things. I'm told that there are plenty of snakes
about too but so far have not seen any.
There will be one bloke about my size who will be chucking his hat in the air when he
leaves all this behind and yet there are far worse places, I suppose.
I just remembered that I'd forgotten to tell you I love you. Must be the heat or, maybe
it's because I don't talk too much.
I haven't heard how your arm is, or your cold, or your tooth. Of course, I haven't –
there's been no mail for a few days. Seriously dear, you must look after yourself and
keep fit – and you must not treat those things too lightly.
There’s a call dear, so I'll have to go. Goodbye, sweetest girl in the world and have a
big kiss – and cuddle up.
Always Yours, George
PS. Love to Mum and Norma and all yours. Also Mother Judy and all mine. I'll tell
you now – I LOVE YOU! G.
***
7 April 1943. On heavier, lined, quarto sized writing pad, in pencil not numbered,
without identification or sign of censorship.
Dearest Marjorie, Your letters numbered 40 and 41 arrived this afternoon. They’re
dated 27 March 43 and 28 March 43 and I think you have gone and went and made a
mistake in your numbering again. Should be 50 and 51 I think but can't check at the
moment as my love letters are stowed away.
In all six letters came – the others were from Norma, Cecil, Miss Macintosh and my
little Etty Bay lass. Really she is only 14, a pretty little thing and she likes me, I think.
You always said I liked them young and you're right – one thing the young ‘uns don’t
give you any trouble. She's just a school kid looking for a pen pal I'm afraid – pity she
wasn’t about four years older though. However I think I'll hand her over to one of the
youngsters with us as I can't have too many fans, can I?
I have written to you every second or third day – mostly every second day – so I can’t
understand the delay. Maybe there has been hold-up somewhere and you'll get all the
letters in a bunch – perhaps they're been lost in transit but I sincerely hope that is not
100
the case. You know I wouldn't keep you waiting any longer than I could help,
sweetheart?
How is your cold, my pretty maid? Have you tried Nelson’s Vaporise? Now dear, you
must look after yourself and not go taking any risks with your health. If your cold is
not better get some Cod Liver Oil and take it – it’s nasty stuff but it builds up your
system wonderfully, (signed Dr Kildare).
I’m sorry I’m not in a position to give you any advice about the house – I think at the
moment, it would be most unwise to let it go for a paltry price though. If rent has to
be paid and food bought in a few months the position would be more acute than ever.
Where could such a cheap rental place be had – someone will have to face up to the
facts before long. As you say it’s really a problem for others to decide – and pretty
quickly. Does Norma realise that she would have to pay 30/– at the very least for
decent board and she’d get awful sick of it after a while. What would you do? Perhaps
you could allow them a few more bob per week, Norma could add to it and the others,
too. I sure that the “investment” on anyone’s part would be worthwhile, don’t you?
When things get back to normal, the place could be sold and probably a better price
obtained. And I said I wouldn’t offer any advice.
The cake hasn’t arrived yet but it will probably come along in due course. Better hold
fire for a while from now on, I’ve got plenty to go on with, sweetheart.
Now I’m answering No. 41. Looks like the drought has set in again around your way.
We haven’t had rain for a week either. I wish I were home to do justice to that roast
dinner – or the tin of salmon with you, I should say
Cecil told me that he and Norman were paying you a visit – did the old Norm have his
cough-mixture on the hip or has the drought struck him to?
You seem to be very busy with the sewing – people might start to wonder if you don’t
put them wise. Oh no, I forgot I’ve been away for 17 weeks and three days haven’t I?
Anne must look up all her storybooks and get ready for when I come home – I want to
hear about that little guy ‘noccio, tell her.
You got my letters at last, well better late than never. I’d give up two months of my
life to be able to see you for just a little while Darling – but it seems that it’s not to be
for some time to come. How long, I can’t even guess but I’ll be disappointed if it’s
not before Christmas. And about my little true story love letter – my princess is the
loveliest lady in the world – heart, soul and looks. Her sisters are beautiful too and I
love them but my princess is my Princess, if you know what I mean –
“Ding Dong” has just come in and requests that I extend you his sincerest and most
respectful regards, (verbatim).
Nobody has read any of your letters so far and it would matter much if they did in
these days. Say on Darling and let your heart have its full fling. I know you
understand me better than anyone else and that why I don’t bother to put it down on
paper. As for writing once a week, you needn’t think that it will be any longer unless
101
there is something to stop me – as a matter of fact I’ll carry on as usual and let the
mailman look after the delivery.
Hope Norma’s feeling better – she should see a specialist if she doesn’t feel any
benefit from her present treatment..
Whenever I’m lonely, I think of you and our life together and it helps to bridge the
gap – your letters keep the memory green and I’m always dreaming of the lovely days
to come. Your picture is always close to me and I constantly look at – my little
honeymooner. For now sweetheart, goodbye and God bless you.
Your, Me.
PS. Tonight I’ll hug you first and kiss you– extra special. Give my love to all and be
sure I’m looking after your grasshopper. I want my Princess to look after herself,
don’t forget.
***
7 April 1943.[ Also]
On lined quarto sized writing pad, in pencil, no identifying details; it is manifest
from the contents that this letter was sent outside censorship.
Dearest Marjorie, I'm sneaking this opportunity to write to you per favour Su who
will mail it in Sydney – just to let you know clearly what’s what. Treat everything as
confidential – I mean don't let it get outside the family and be sure to let Mother know
as soon as possible. Tell her not to worry – we'll look after ourselves – and if letters
are few and far between, it's because we have no control over the situation.
No doubt you have gathered everything from previous letters – that's if they've
reached you – including the two (to date) written from Townsville. The censorship
regulations are very rigid here so its possible they didn't all get through. When no
addresses shown at the top, the whole of the correspondence is destroyed, if it is
intercepted
Now to get on with the story. We arrived in Townsville last Friday after two days on
the train with the trucks. Unfortunately we passed Cairns and the Barron Falls in the
early hours of the morning so missed the highlight of Queensland's Winter Holiday
tours.
The movement order came through a few days before we left Ravenshoe and there
was a lot of speculation as to where we were headed. I had a very strong conviction
that we were bound for NSW for special invasion training. Others were betting big
money on Moresby and Milne Bay. Some thought it would be Herberton (where Len
is) and we would be given leave. Then we were informed that the order was cancelled
but eventually another unit moved into our lines and we rushed around packing up
and entrained at Ravenshoe– remember I wrote to you from the railway yards from
there.
At present we are at a staging camp about 3 miles out of Townsville and it's a lousy
hole on a dirty stretch alongside a swamp. Our green mosquito nets tents are one of
the best ideas the army has ever had – I wouldn't part with mine for anything now so
you can imagine how valuable they will be in the malaria areas. We’re supposed to be
102
sleeping 10 in a tent but I rig my net up near the truck and make myself very
comfortable on a stretcher.
From this place we will embark for nobody knows where – everybody is making a
guess that I don't think it has actually been decided – or at least the CO hasn't been
told yet. More than likely it will be somewhere in New Guinea or perhaps one of the
islands up North, which means six months before we get leave. I have heard that four
months is the maximum time for troops in action in malaria areas, so I may get home
sooner than I expect.
A dozen or so new trucks were taken over the other day and we also received more
personel – seems that we are going to a place where transport can be used. Anyhow,
don't get anxious about me, darling, if letters are slow and few – I’ll write at every
opportunity and tell you where I am as soon as the information can be released.
Did you realise what I meant when I said "Wait till you see the numbers go up"?
When I leave Australia all letters will be censored and of course regimental numbers
will have to be shown. However it may be necessary for me to put my letters through
the orderly room before leaving so I think I'll change the idea to when I underline NX
(that is NX) you will know we are on the way.24 That's about all I have to tell you
about the move. [George’s letter of 19 March from Ravenshoe contains a coded
reference to the numbers going up, as a signal to Marjorie about departure.]
Later: This afternoon I received six letters. Yours numbered 40 and 41 which I think
should be 50 and 51 – I'll answer them tomorrow (notice you do understand my
messages between the lines). Others were from Norma, Cecil, Mac and the little 14
years old girl I met at Etty Bay, who by the way appears to like your grasshopper. Tell
you about it later.
With this I'm enclosing a few negatives taken up at Ravenshoe – can't see how they
turned out but you can have them printed and I'll see them when I come home. Will
you get an extra set done and shoot them onto Mrs.Young – Cecil will give you the
address – am trying to finish the other spool down here for Su to take with her. Ask
Norma to ring Mac about April 15 to see if Su is home and whether she has a small
packet for you.
Frank is sitting opposite me and moaning about the censor. Today the unit was given
a lecture on what they could say and what they couldn't. What they could say was
nothing. Even discussion on weather is prohibited – can’t say we have a lot of
showers or mention the ocean or mountain streams so its gonna be pretty hard to fill
up space.
Now my darling girl, I'll finish this rambling on and tell you how much I love you. No
– I can't find the words as usual – but you know don't you?
I got a big thrill when I read that you will love another Austinmer night just the same
as before. Princess, we did have a wonderful time didn't we? Plenty of time to do it all
over again so keep on wishing. I think of you day and night and sometimes I get an
almost unbearable longing for you – to hold you close again and love and kiss you –
as before. Please don't think you are ever out of my mind – I could never forget any
103
little thing we've ever done. When I come home we’ll sneak away to some quiet place
and I'll spend the whole time trying to tell you how lovely you are – how about it?
Goodbye darling and keep the old chin up. Forever yours, George
PS. When you write be careful not to repeat any place names I mention (especially
when the censor hasn't seen my letter. Incoming mail is censored sometimes and I'd
get crimed if this letter happened to get into the wrong hands although there is not a
thing in it that could possibly be valuable to the enemy.
We are an ambulance unit and non-combatants so there's no need for you to get
anxious at any time. I'll be seeing you before Christmas and I still want beer and
peanuts – and you.
Bye Bye darling wife, an extra special long loving kiss and squeeze from your,
Husband, George.
PPS please send a recent snap of you if you can..
Stop Press: Mrs Joyce Young's' phone number is UA 4164. The falls in the snap are
Tully Falls
In the group are: Front: Billy Kelly; Middle: Pross, Me, Joe, Dina; Back: Alan
Willoughby.
There’s a name on the front of my ambulance that you might be able to read in snap.
Can you?
[ Front; Billy Kelly, Middle L to R Ron Dymant (Dina), Joe Young, George
Seagrove, Pross Seagrove; Back; Alan Willoughby, taken at Ravenshoe; Raxworthy
(at p.66) has a shot of NCOs and officers that seems to be at the same location]
***
104
11 April 1943 Sunday afternoon. On lined standard writing pad in pencil, no
regimental number or identifying details or sign of censorship..
My darling Sweetheart, Two letters of yours came yesterday, one numbered 42, other
55 (date April 1 and seven). Something’s wrong with your numbering but it doesn’t
matter as long as the letters are dated. We’re both pretty bad with our systems aren’t
we?
I've written you a couple of extra letters which you will get in due course – I may be
able to send one tomorrow. There’s no news and I may repeat myself just to fill up
space or something. I went to the pictures with Sue Callan the other night and we saw
the "The Firefly", rather stale but the singing was worthwhile wasn't it. I’ll be seeing
the girlfriend next Tuesday maybe and then I'll wipe her.
Pross came in a few minutes ago and asked me to tell you he got the parcels, cakes etc
from Mother – why don't you go to town and sister. I almost forgot to tell you my
cake arrived yesterday, too. Haven't opened it yet as Pross has cut his and we’ll finish
that first. Thanks darling. Pross will write to Mother and sister later to thank them. I
don't know what's wrong with my memory lately but I always seem to remember
things I should have mentioned after I've sealed the letter.
Irene McIntosh writes that Mitch has received his commission and now is Pilot
Officer. I bet he knows his job inside out. Those fellows who battle along seem to
learn things more thoroughly don’t you think? Jack Hocking also has been into the
office to see the folks and I believe he looks pretty well.
Miss Porte wrote to me in her usual style informing me of the £25 bonus—why don’t
you go into town and and bust some of it on clothes and things for yourself. Give
yourself a break for a change – I’d love you to do that little thing.
Marjorie dear, don't think me hard when I say this but I think you would be very
foolish to try to help Doug and Dulce. If he can't make a go of things now he never
will and they may as well lose their house without dragging in your contribution.
There's no need for me to say that you should help them if they are starving – as for
going any further – NIX.
I couldn't quite get the abbreviated name in your April 7 letter – you had P Tr — did
you mean Mac Merryweather's – or am I dumb. I suppose I am as you mentioned him
previously.
Pleased to hear your arm is better – or nearly. Keep at it until the spot goes altogether
and make sure.
My daily wash is awaiting me darling so I better make a start. I may go into town
tonight and do over a few milkshakes and post this. That's about all there is to do in
places like this when you don't know anyone. There are a few picture shows but they
are always crowded and hot – one is open air and the seats are deckchairs which give
me a pain in the knees. I went to the latter last night with the lads of the village – had
an uncomfortable sleep through the last picture.
105
I am looking for the day when we can pick out a good show and go into a nice cool
theatre to enjoy it. We’ll sit in the darkest part and hold hands like the kids do, eh?
More than anything else I'm longing for the days when you and I can have some more
of those little parties on our own – as before. A big bottle of "bubbly", cut-glass
tumblers and anything we feel like to eat. Well I better go and win the war first so I'll
say goodbye ‘til I write again. Love to all and for you, an extra special kiss and hug.
Your, Me.
PS. Sometimes I wonder if you think I'm gloomy. I'm not but I miss you and I like to
let you know in case you might get an idea I'm not thinking of you all the time.
***
13 April 1943. On lined standard writing pad paper, in ink. No regimental number.
Dearest Marjorie, I can’t tell you what the cake was like as I haven't broken the seal.
Pross has almost finished his so yours will be next on the list. Will let you have a
report later.
No letters today but I received one from Betty yesterday which I answered right away.
If I do that, I find that my correspondence doesn't pile up and everybody is happy.
There's nothing you write about – same old job, same old routine and a bit of a walk
around town at night to occasionally break the monotony. Pretty boring to most of us.
How are you sweetheart? I expect you think I should have a gramophone record made
of that question but I always like to know how you are feeling and what you do. It
doesn't matter if you can't rake up any news; keep on writing and say "Hello" and
Goodbye. I feel happy when I see a letter with your handwriting on it.
I still have your letters carefully put away but I'll have to take a run through them
again and sort out a few and burn the rest. It's impossible for me to carry all of them
around with me. This afternoon I'm going to try to see Su and give her my watch.
Parts are very scarce here so she may as well take it with her.
Later. I rang Sue's place a little while ago and was informed that the young lady left
last Saturday for home. Pity, because there were several small items she was going to
deliver for me. I believe she was so thrilled she hardly knew what she was doing. And
she had to pack up in about half an hour. Ask Norma to ring Miss Macintosh to find
out if Sue has arrived – doesn't matter much as she hasn't any parcels for you.
It's mighty hot tonight, darling and I must write to Miss Porte so I'll say goodbye for
the present. All my love sweetheart and "you know the kind" of kiss and cuddle. From
Your, Me
PS. Magazines, Pix, Women's Weekly, Sunday Telegraph came a few days ago. I
forgot to mention them before. Thank you darling.
106
Miss Macintosh that is Irene, tells me Mitch has received his commission is now Pilot
Officer. Good old Mitch!
Excuse blotchy writing don't know whether it's the pen or ink or me. Probably me I'm
in hell of a hurry. Night Dear.
***
15 April 1943. Standard, lined writing pad paper, in pencil, numbered 80, no
regimental number, details or sign of censorship.
Dearest Marjorie, Your letter numbered 53 came with last night's mail – number 56
arrived in the morning. I can't figure out whether or not I've got all you’ve written –
here's what I have the date – 49-25/3/43, 40 (? Should be 50) 27/3/43, 41 (51),
28/3/43, 42 (52), 1/4/43, 55 – 7/4/43, 56 – 10/4/43, 53 – 3/4/43. Looks like 54 is
still to come doesn't it? Hope all of mine have reached you – I'm making this one 80
for the sake of some sort of ordering. I write about every second day so perhaps you
can tell if any are missing.
I'm feeling very well and in good spirits – had a half day in town yesterday and four
small glasses of beer. Not a bad break but not much to do with oneself except walk
around like a lost sheep. Sue has gone home and unfortunately I didn't see her at the
last moment to give her your message. However, I might see her when she comes in
again.
Betty told me about Bill – I think he’s unlucky but not by any means the unluckiest
of them all – according to what I hear about the place, the length of his stay will
probably be the worst feature – still he won't be much worse off than I, as far as that
part is concerned
Your plants should do very well after the good rain – that is if they don't get drowned
or frost-bitten. It seems strange to talk about cold weather up here – and I'm sure I'll
shiver to death when I come home. Do you think I'll need an extra blanket – or don't
you think it will be necessary?
I'll drop a note to Mother tonight – glad to know she is feeling well. Tell her
everything will be all right and we’ll come sailing home and raid the larder and drink
her "cough mixture" before many moons have passed.
Col is the same old stick – sometimes gets funny – and then very matey again. He’d
very much like to be with me again I think but he wouldn't admit it for worlds. He
always asks me to convey his most respectful regards to you.
It's good to hear that young Alan is improving in the army. Hard to believe that the
Army could make anyone better – until they go on to action.
I thought "Meet John Doe" would be a good show – wish I could have taken you
myself to see it. Gary Cooper never fails to turn on a good show, does he?
You must be a bit psychic, knowing there was a letter from me in the box. Maybe
there are times when you have that feeling – and are disappointed but you don't
107
remember. Anyhow I hope that there will always be one waiting for you. If there’s not
it won't be my fault.
Hey, now girlie, I think you're insulted my good old pen enough. Realise this that
same quill worked hard for me and I used to think it was the best in the world – until
someone stepped on it, broke the bladder and twisted the nib. You might be able to
get it repaired. I understand it's just about impossible to get a new one.
Atta girl, don't get blue – it doesn't help doesn't. I’ll be seeing you when the man with
whiskers is snooping around or sooner. And about that little boy – I’ll make it a deal –
if his little sister turns out to be half as good as Mummie, she'll do me
I've been writing this letter in spasms all day. In the meantime your number 57
(12/4/43) has arrived but I'll answer it next time. Tea Time now, so goodbye darling
and a linger- longer kiss and hug.
Forever Your, Me
PS. Sorry to hear Norma is not well – it seems that complete rest with no visitors is
the only remedy for such complaints. I can’t understand that she has got into such a
rundown condition. Perhaps she has something on her mind – why not see if she
would confide in you and get it off her chest. Good night Sweetheart, darling. Love to
Mum and Dad and All. Tell Norma I send her one of the extra big luscious kisses and
etc. G.
***
17 April 1943. On lined writing pad, standard size, no regimental number or sign of
censorship, in pencil.
My dearest Marjorie, I have your letters numbered 57 and 58 to answer now. No. 58
reached me yesterday. Dear Norma, tell her I'm sorry to hear she's not well again –
she’d better hurry up and get better before I come home. I want a nice big strong girl
with sound nerves to chase around and make scream. I mean I'll want two beautiful
blondes to annoy.
I wonder what Miss Wilson means when she says she'll give me more than a kiss.
Dear, dear aren’t things becoming complicated.
Don't worry your sick little skull about the message of yours that I gave to Su. No
doubt my recent letters have made it clear – if not just forget about it.
That skinny looking guy with the thinning patch and depression in his chin is very
pleased to hear your arm is better, your face OK and cold better. He's thrilled to know
he's still missed so much. Lucky Jim Money's are luckier than we are. I'm afraid
another spring will have come and gone before my nose turns down Collingwood
Street. But if London can take it, so can we, eh?
Mozzies are bad tonight, they seem to be tearing lumps out of my legs. Snakes are
seldom seen around the place – we killed a tiny one on Thursday but it was more like
a worm. I'm now writing by the light of the moon for the first time in my life – have
to give up and turn on the power plant.
108
Later: That’s much better I can see the rails now. Hope you're OM made a good job of
the shoe mending – he should be an expert by now. Does he get a handful of tacks and
throw them into his mouth like a regular cobbler?
Tell Norma that guy in the picture frame is no gentleman – he looks too much. The
things he sees, dear me, hasn't she noticed the red tints on his cheeks?. Really I think,
she should hang a hankerchief over the frame sometimes.
Do I love you like I used? I won't tell you – you might get too confident. Still I'll say
this much, I don't think any less of you, my little cherie.
You must've forgotten about the cake you sent me. It’s still unopened, for a wonder,
and tomorrow is Sunday so it looks like a Sunday Special.
I won't need any money I'm sure – my blondes are not gold-diggers. In fact they don't
cost me a penny. Of course I may need a little gold later when the Chieftain presents
his daughter – I'll wire then, if necessary.
The radio is playing "You're the only star in my blue heaven" which is quite
appropriate at this moment.
And talking of stars, I'm getting to know them very well since they have become the
ceiling to my bedroom. I've never slept better in all my life – it's usually hot when I
climb in but before the morning I roll over and pull up the blanket. Which shows the
weather is not unbearable, although plenty hot during the day. We've been doing
some heavy work today so I’ll finish here, darling girl and get to bed early – after I've
written to Miss Porte, in ink.
All my love and kisses to the dearest girl in the world. I'll be loving you like that
always. Good night darling and happy days. Me.
***
20 April 1943. On lined standard sized writing pad, in pencil, no regimental number,
identification or sign of censorship.
Dearest Marjorie,
Your airmail letter 59 came yesterday and after reading it I have decided I talk too
much. I hate to think that I caused those tears and made your eyes so red – they
couldn't be ugly. Your bright little face mustn't lose its smile creases as they are so
becoming. Whenever I feel a little bit blue, I'll think of your happy laugh and the way
you used look at me sometimes. And what a cock-eyed shot you are when you're
throwing clocks and things.
I've just finished reading a letter from Dulcie which arrived a few minutes ago. She
tells me Norma is still in sick bay and that makes me sad, I thought we were all in the
pink. I must write to my darling and tell her she must get well, else I won't love her
and kiss her like I used to. You know I think she grew quite cool towards me during
the few weeks before I left, so I'll have to win her back. You don't mind if I love her
too, do you sweetheart?
109
I explained what happened about the package I intended to send per favour of Su – it
doesn't matter, I'll probably send the watch on later as it is useless in its present
condition. Might risk sending it with the cake tins.
That reminds me, I opened the parcel yesterday and discovered the sweets, mints
peanuts and cake. I'd better let you know what they were like when I opened for
future reference – please don't think I'm not grateful.
The peanuts were soft and soggy and the mints were running – it's the heat and the
time in transit. The sweets were quite all right but the paper bag was wet. The cake
had a light mildew on the outside – otherwise it was OK. I can't make out how the
moisture reached the peanuts as you wrapped everything in cellophane paper and the
tin was sealed with sticking paper. Perhaps the paper is not sufficient to make it
airtight. Anyhow after all that I might tell you, nothing of the contents was wasted
except a thin slice from the cake. I suppose adhesive tape is unprocurable days – that
probably would have done a better job. Thank you sweetheart for thinking of me and
sending all those things I like. I'll finish off the cake tonight at supper. You're too
good to me.
I wrote to Mother a couple of days ago – hope she received it in due course. Will you
call in and tell her we’re both well and in great spirits. No need to let the old chin
drop and tell her I think a small dose of cough mixture around about Christmas will
be very much appreciated. Or has the bottle run dry in these austerity times?
And you, my darling girl are constantly in my thoughts and every day I feel I love you
more and more. How lucky I was when you looked in my direction – I don't know
how I came to be so fortunate to be brought so close to you. How many times have I
told you that – it must be boring.
That's about all for now – I must catch the mail and not keep you waiting. Goodbye,
sweetheart, and all my love and kisses, extra supers for you. As ever Your, Me.
PS. Suppose Mac told you about Mitch and his promotion in the airforce. Isn't it great
for him. Love to everybody at home. G.
***
22 April 1943. On flimsy airmail pad paper, written in pencil, no regimental number
,Identification or sign of censorship.
Dearest Marjorie, Your number 60 letter reached me yesterday and the missing 54
came today. not bad for an airmail letter? – 17 days. Still I was pleased to get it and
read a few more words from you.
When you write about Austinmer it gives me a funny feeling – wish I could make
arrangements for another holiday like that. Not that Austinmer is particularly
outstanding as a resort – but it has tender memories hasn't it? There are plenty of other
places I think of, which were very lovely when we saw them together, aren't there? I
remember them so well, Wellington Hotel, Canberra was quite a place – we must
have looked like a couple of millionaire kids on a sightseeing tour of something. And
we’ll always have kind thoughts for the little Morris car for taking on that thousand
miles of Paradise and not giving us any trouble at all. How would you like to be
110
sitting outside one of those country hotels sipping a nice big schooner of beer and a
dash of lemonade with a few sandwiches to munch? Having to decide where the camp
for the night would be a very worrying problem though hope it's not long before we're
scratching our dandruff knobs over such problems again.
I was beginning to wonder why you hadn't mentioned the bonus cheque from the
office – thought it might have gone astray. Letter 54's late delivery clears up that –
and I still think you should go get yourself something pretty to celebrate. Nothing like
a little shopping tour and new clothes to give you a lift when you're not feeling the
best you know. Darling, I want you to look lovely, even if I can't see you – that does
not mean you don't look most attractive in anything you have. Even the short frock of
Betty's showed up your legs to advantage, didn't it?
Thanks for stirring up your sisters with their letter writing – it was successful. I have
heard from each of them since. Dulce and Norma's letters have to be answered, maybe
I'll get an opportunity tonight or tomorrow. Joe's wife hasn't any fresh news, in fact
nothing that I haven't told you. I'm sure she’d be tickled to death to get that small
packet from you – let's know what the pictures were like won’t you darling. I'll let
you know when I need some dough, don't worry. I've got plenty to go on with
When I come home, you can mow the front lawn but don't make yourself too tired
will you. For now sweetheart, goodbye and God bless you, from Your loving, Me
PS. Consider as enclosed a loving kiss on the mouth and a big squeeze from me. Love
to all. Am well and full of beans. So’s Pross. Hope you are the same.
***
23 April 1943. On lined airmail writing pad, in pencil, with all of regimental number
underlined; censor’s signature for first time: Lt. D C ( Campbell), McAulay.
[In this letter George gives what proved to be a false alarm through his conveying
the signal foreshadowed in George’s letter of 7 April 1943 that he would underline
NX to let her know” we are on the way”. However Likeman shows at 85: “orders
were received to load their vehicles and equipment on the SS West Cactus. On Good
Friday April 23, they loaded everything while the wharfies took a holiday. On Easter
Monday, they unloaded it all again.. Then another warning order. They were to
board the hospital ship Katoomba on 14 May for New Guinea..then it was to be the
Centaur on 18 May..at first light..they woke me during the night to tell me it had been
sunk”. In a PS to his letter of 2 May 1943, delivered outside censorship, George tells
Marjorie, “We had the vehicles actually loaded on the ship with hatches battened
down and ready to sail. That's why the numbers were underlined. The idea still stands
however.”]
Dearest Marjorie, This is just a short little note to say "Hello" darling and let you
know I'm well – never felt better in my life. There's a lovely full moon tonight – one
that really could be enjoyed in Norm's boat on the Parramatta with you. I wonder if it
is such a lovely night in Drummoyne or are the rain clouds blotting it out. In one of
your letters you said it was cold and raining – how does that suit your garden? Hope it
didn't drown all your new plants – I want to see the results of your hard work, you're a
pretty lucky gardener aren't you. Perhaps I should say, “you know your onions” – and
flowers
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What about the roses in the front garden, did they survive the drought. And the Salvia
(spelling?), is that still flowering? It's good to know our beautiful trees have done so
well darling. I've got our new garden all planned out, with crazy path, lavender walk
and a small fountain near the summerhouse and fernery – I'll have to transplant those
trees or get some more. I started off to say "hello" and walked straight out into the
garden and moonlight – but the three seem go well together don't they? Before I get
away from the subject I must ask you about the apple tree (nothing to do with the
song, of course). I could never forget the old apple tree, sweetheart, could you?
Thanks for that beautiful letter, darling. You are the writer of our family – maybe you
could get a job as a copywriter with GP's when they need a bit of help. There’s
nothing stronger than sincerity in writing and "being yourself" – and your letters have
both those qualities. Don't let anyone tell you that you can't write.
Now dear, there's very little I can say and a lot I'd like to but I’ll have to save it up for
when I come home. Give my love to Mother, Judy, Pop, and all the families. Also
your Mum, Dad and a luscious kiss for my Norma, Bet, Junior and Anne. Not
forgetting my pal and compere Bruce. Tell Norm she needs a holiday at Kiama, with
us, with a sunsuit and a fishing line – must arrange that sometime, eh?
Good night my darling wife and sweetest of dreams. A big kiss and hug from your,
George
***
24 April 1943. On unlined lightweight airmail writing pad paper, in pencil, no
regimental number, identification or censor's signature
Dearest Marjorie, Well, well – I just really don't know what to say and I have a
couple of pages to fill up. It's Easter Saturday and I'm on holidays – are you? Your
holidays are like mine – just more work – I suppose.
I wrote to you yesterday dear but seeing it's the longest break in the year and I haven't
anything to do at the moment I thought you would be pleased to get a few lines from
me. Things are still the same and very boring.
I'll be glad when Su gets back and gives me all the news – she should be here in a few
days.
I'm sorry if I said anything in my last letter to hurt you but you know how I get
sometimes don't you darling? Will you please forgive me and forget all about it?
Your lovely letter dated 19/4/43 (61) came yesterday and I hope you're not serious
about needing a bottle of Clements Tonic meaning I hope you're not catching Norma's
complaint. You are right when you say I'm longing for my Princess and how happy
I'll be when she is by my side enjoying a good laugh show.
It was the PTR that had me tricked in Mac's address – abbreviation for private is Pte I
understand.
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Sweetheart I haven't burned any of your letters yet and I’ll hang on to them as long as
possible. Everyone is a gem to me – mine are the ones that must clutter up your
belongings.
If "Meet Mr Doe" comes up here, you bet your boots this guy will go along and see it.
Remember me telling you of Hughie Walker's comments on "In which we serve", the
movie version of Noel Coward's pro-Navy play. I read the review in "Women's
Weekly" and it should be worth having a look at. Why don't you shout the folks one
day.
Don't let the war get you down dearest, it must end some time and everything will
seem like a bad dream. It's useless trying to fathom it out, we must just wait and see.
I'll be rushing home to Mum as soon as I get a chance – leave that to me, sweetheart.
And now once more, I'll say goodbye to the nearest sweetest little guy in the world,
with a wish that soon we'll be together again. Kisses and cuddles and all my love to
my darling Princess. Always your same old, Me.
PS. Love to all G.
***
26 April 1943. On lightweight email pad paper, in pencil, with regimental number
etc, censor's signature: Capt. J.J. (Jimmy) Cuff ( NX111013).
Dearest Marjorie. I suppose you were wondering why you haven't heard from me for
a couple of days. It's pretty difficult to write sometimes and mail facilities are not the
best, especially during the long holiday period. However, I'll scratch out a few lines
whenever possible and say "hello" and "goodbye" – that's about all we can put in
letters these days.
This spot is about the best we've struck lately and I think most of the boys agree that
we could stand a lot of it. So you see Easter is not all work for us. How did you put in
the time? And what sort of weather do you have in Sydney? It usually rains on Good
Friday doesn't it? Hope you were able to get out and give your new frock an airing
and enjoy yourself. When are you going to send me a new picture of yourself? Do you
realise I saw you only once in your smart navy blue outfit (of which you were so
proud) and that was a few weeks before Christmas. ‘Spose it's now stowed away in
moth balls and winter woollies are all the vogue. I almost forgot – you told me you
were knitting a cardigan, well I can hardly realise it could be that cold
Sad news dear, I've lost my little golden locket containing your photograph.
Remember the silver chain Teen gave me – it was always coming apart or breaking
but I happened to notice it each time. Until the other day. When it started to rain I
dashed across to the tent to drag in some washing – and lost half the locket en route.
That night I had two mugs of beer and a bit of a wrastle with me mate and did in the
other half, which shows what drink does to a man.
Surprise of the week was a letter last night from Guy. His anticipation was remarkable
– said he "I bet you look at the signature first to see who this is from". Which was
what I had done before starting to read and that, as you know, is most unusual for me.
I never like reading the end of the story first. Will answer probably tonight.
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Guy seems to have fallen on velvet with his new job – when I say velvet I don't mean
the job’s easy but it appears to be a pretty big one and it will give him the break he
deserves.
Darling, your letter of April 21 (registered) reached me last Saturday with enclosed
Easter egg, amounting to 10/-. Thank you sweetheart – I know its useless me saying
you shouldn't have done it – think I'll build up a stock of "smokes". I'm right out at the
moment and a long way from the canteen.
I suppose Norman is a bit too young to be in a Newington crew – think he should join
the rowing club, don't you. Mitch will be glad to hear the old school won all the
events again this year. No doubt about the Fairburn style.
Bowral should do Norma a lot of good provided she makes it a restful holiday and
gets to bed early and allows her system a chance to build up.
I would love to have Anne up here with me – she would have the time of her life at
this place. It's a pity kids have to grow up so quickly isn't it? I'll bet Betty will be glad
when Anne can give her a hand though.
My socks are in very good shape so don't send me any more – coupons are too scarce
to waste and it's the army's worry anyway.
The answer to your question is "yes, and much more" if that's possible. And I'm
longing to hear all those lovely things you have to say when I return.
Goodbye for the present, sweetheart and look after yourself for me. All my love and
kisses to you, darling girl. From Your, George.
PS. How would you like one of those extra special suppers at "Nortoft".
***
28 April 1943. On lightweight Airmail paper, underlined, in pencil with regimental
number, censored by: W Fleming.
Dearest Marjorie, It’s several days since I had a letter from you but that doesn't
surprise me much, as out here the mail facilities are not the best. Probably my letters
to you have been arriving a little irregularly too.
We’re having the time of our lives out in the bush and our camp is right alongside a
lovely creek with a rough sandy bottom, so everybody's getting a good coating of tan.
Yesterday we were building bridges and today we had a crack at making canoes.
Before that we made several rafts. All these things were improvised from materials
found on the spot and although crude, I think the practice will be useful in later and
more serious attempts. At night we do a bit of star gazing and march with a compass
and erect shelters in the dark. This kind of training, in my opinion, is what is most
needed in our job and at the same time we are getting the benefit of open beautiful
surroundings.
114
How are you darling, and everybody at home? Have you been to see the dentist about
your mouth yet? You didn't say in your last letter. And what about my little Norma –
does she want me home to make her better? A week or two with us down on the
South coast is what would do her the world of good isn't it? Especially if we had the
Morris 8/420 to run around in.
When you see Mother tell her Pross and I are both very well and enjoying our sojourn
up North. Of course were still looking forward to some leave and think there's no
place like NSW and home. I don't know whether Pross has written within the last
couple of days, he's a worse correspondent than I am, I'm afraid.
The mosquitoes in this part are not nearly as bad as you would suppose and there are
not many flies. Grass seeds are our biggest bugbear but with the American type of
gaiters they don't worry us much. Woolly socks are the worst things for picking them
up so we either go without socks or wear gaiters.
Well, darling girl, you can see I'm scratching around for something to say and not
very successful so I’d better sign off. Give my love to all and remind them they all
owe me a letter and don't forget to send me that photograph soon. By the way, Pross
sent the other film home about a week ago – really it belongs to you or Norma but he
had it developed. You'll be able to get prints from Mother – but be sure you keep the
negativet or they might be lost.
All my love and kisses and an extra special hug, Ever your loving husband, George.
***
29 April 1943, Thursday: on Air Mail Letter Card, with penny stamp, in ink, with
regimental number, censor signature: Lt. A D (Doug) Dunlop NX111014.
My darling Marjorie, This is the first time I have used one of these airmail lettercards
so I don't know how they are received or whether they are treated as deferred air-mail.
Let me know the date it reaches you and in what condition. One disadvantage seems
to be its easy accessibility – I mean it could be lying on a table anywhere and a puff of
wind could blowit open and leave the contents revealed to every passer-by. Not that I
ever write anything not fit for publication but one feels that letter is as personal as a
thought.
I have just returned to camp after a few days out in the bush and your letter number
64 was waiting for me in this morning’s mail. I believe number 63 is still outstanding.
You say you haven't heard from me for a week – I suppose the P.O. went on four or
five days holiday over Easter and let the mail go to hell, especially the Army end of it.
Hope you now have the bundle I've written – one every second day, I'm sure. How
does the censor treat them these days
115
It's not hard for me to imagine you slipping quietly away to your pretty little room to
write those few lines – bet Dad had his ear glued glued to the radio and the rest are
doing a lot of talking as in the days of yore
The only trouble I have nowadays (answer to your query, darling) is Blonde trouble –
chiefly the lack of blondes. If only I could get hold of a Yankee uniform with pockets
stuffed with dough, develope an accent like C. Gable and grow a few more whiskers
on my dandruff mob, I think I’d stand a 50 to 1 chance with Eve of the golden tresses.
Su and her fat friend are the only girls that I’ve had anything to do with – an
overweight WAAF and a brunette one with an extra outsize in boyfriends. What
chance have I? So this afternoon, which is the leave period, I'm staying in doing my
washing and preparing to sprinkle my parched throat with a few drops of the amber
fluid. Yet withal darling, I am happy, for tomorrow I'll be in the foothills again.
Please don't get too anxious about my letters – they'll turn up eventually, I hope
Of course I remember Helen of the beautiful face and I think it's a good idea you
better halves getting together. You must have a lot in common
In regard to the firefighting I think it so much eye- wash, except the organisation part
of that (that is knowing what your job is in case of emergency and who will do it in
your absence). As far as putting out an incendiary I think you know that probably
better than the warden who comes around.
The old wooden shovels will be coming into prominence again it seems. Remember
Menzies missus’ demonstration down on the Oval.
I better enclose your kisses and cuddle here, sweetheart or there mightn't be enough
space. Tell Mum and Dad they are ever in my thoughts – and life's too short to worry.
Love to all, Mother, Judy and all the families. Yours always, Me.
***
30 April 1943. On flimsy airmail paper, and lined in pencil, without regimental
number; no indication of censor.
My darling Marjorie, Once again I am writing you to try to overcome the gaps in our
correspondence. There's nothing new to add except that I’m here when I thought my
form would be gracing the foothills at this time. But that's the way things are – man
proposes and somebody else has a different idea on the matter.
Yesterday, after finishing your note, I proceeded to put myself outside a few beers as
mentioned. On reaching the third, my stomach told me to halt but my mood suggested
just one more for the sake of conviviality. With about 2 ounces of fluid left in the
mug, I took hurried leave and well – it's not nice to talk about. Mind you, I wasn't
tipsy – my condition could hardly be described as a "glow" – and I've come to the
conclusion that either I can't take more than two glasses or the beer is lousy. Probably
the latter. In future milkshakes and lemonade are my choice or I’ll stick to the two
limit. You heard that before, you'll say – this time I mean it. However, I have no aftereffects today nor was I in the least perturbed last night. It was a matter of down quick
116
and up quick, if you know what I mean. Let's not talk about it any more – I shouldn't
have mentioned it, anyway
Colin is in hospital again with his knee and as far as I can see he’s working his head
(and knee) to get back to Sydney. Don't know why he doesn't use his eyes too. He’s as
blind as a bat without his glasses. Good luck to him!
Pross is not the best today – his complaint was the same as mine but he's got a
hangover. He'll be sparking on all cylinders tomorrow and ready to give his tummy
another lashing. One thing in our favour is that we could never become habitual
drunkards – not unless our insides are cemented or something. That makes three of us,
doesn't it?
Today is a lovely day and there is no sign of rain. We’ve had only one rainstorm since
we arrived – quite a change from our last job. The nights are getting cooler and the
mozzies are pretty fierce still, but the nets keep them at bay so they don't bother us
much. I suppose Sydney is experiencing the first touch of winter although in your last
letter you said you enjoyed the Sunday basking in the sunshine, didn't you?
I must ‘phone Su soon and get the dope on Sydney and its doings. She must be back
by now.
Darling, would you get a set of prints from both those spools and send them up to me.
In fact two sets would be better, one lot for Pross and the other for Dina and Joe. I'll
collect the money from them and pay you when I see you. Honestly, I will (??? as if
you cared). I'm anxious to know how they turned out. And don't forget to give Norma
one of me if they are any good as she gave me one of the films – that is if she still
wants it, of course.
How is the dear child anyway? At this moment she is in Bowral, but I suppose
sniffing in the beautiful country ozone. You must miss her very much after her long
stay at home. Never mind the days soon slip by and she'll be back and my holiday is
coming closer all the time. We’ll soon be making "whoopee" and all your cares will
be forgotten.
I do hope you're well – please tell me how you feel always, won't you sweetheart? I
wouldn't like to hear that you weren’t well and hadn't been told about it. I prefer to
know all the news all the time – good or bad
Is my mail reaching you regularly since the holidays? I can't write more often as
there’s not enough to fill up space – even funny stories are scarce.
For now I'll say goodbye my darling girl and with this I send one of those linger
longer kisses and all my love. Always Your, Me.
PS. Austinmer, Oh boy, Oh boy!.
***
117
May 1943
Townsville: marking time for embarkation.
1 May 1943. On lightweight airmail writing pad paper, in pencil, without regimental
number and no indication of censor.
My darling Marjorie, It's Saturday afternoon and May Day to some folks but it's just
like any other day to me. LATER. I was called away after battling out that super
opening and at the evening meal Pross came in with three letters for me – two from
you (65 and 66) and the other from Cecil. I was scratching me high forehead
wondering what to say – now I can answer to what you have said.
As you want to know how I am, I'll answer that first. I feel particularly well – this
climate must agree with me. A little thinner, yes – but any weight I've lost was only
surplus fat, so I'm better off without it. My knees still crack, (how romantic) only not
so much – and I haven't had a recurrence of the lumbago pains since taking on this
new life. What other ailments did I suffer from? Oh, I know – my eyes. Well, they're
quite all right now, probably because I don't have to concentrate so much. From this
you will gather that my physical condition is A1.
It does me the world of good to hear that you are happy and I know how lovely it is to
get plenty of letters. It's the best we can do for each other to bridge the gap isn't it?
I've told you before what mail from home means when you are far away. It's almost
like a long distance call don't you think?
I'm glad you liked the snaps – bet they were pretty terrible. Mopey Brian kept me
waiting for weeks for the camera and when he did hand it over there was very little
time to get any really worthwhile shots. The other lads were around so we just had to
include them, even though the film was precious. Concerning the name you could
distinguish – at the time it was a rough job in chalk. Now it is well lettered in script
with paint and alongside is Norma's moniker. This Norma happens to be "Dina's"
girlfriend. Strange though, isn't it.
You never were fat darling – perhaps a little plump but not fat. Mother always said I
was a "tease" and I had to live up to that reputation. And it's a pity that tennis frock
became a duster – I would love to see your legs again – it showed them up so well,
darling.
Please tell me when you feel blue. I want to know everything. Then I'll try hard to
find a funny story to make you smile. That little brat Norma tells me my stories are a
bit on the flute and that set me back. When one is miles away he can’t say "Stop me if
you've heard this one" and my memory is not the best for those sorts of things.
Hughie Walker would probably appreciate the one about the girl who went to the
doctor and asked for a "Corvette". The doctor said "Corvette? I don't understand. A
Corvette is a baby destroyer."
"Well, that's what I want", she replied.
118
How did you get on without Norma? By the time this reaches you I suppose she will
be back and full of beans. Hope so anyway, those "nervy" complaints shake one's
confidence in everything and it's a slow job picking up again.
My bedroom with a ceiling of stars is out there waiting for me and your presence
would make it complete. Perhaps tonight I’ll meet you in dreams under the Southern
Cross. There’s something about sleeping out in the open that is exhilarating. Looking
up into the heavens at those millions of worlds makes one feel insignificant but it's so
clean and fresh and I feel glad to be alive. I think to myself, "Lucky stars, you can see
my darling, watch over her and keep her safe for me".
Your letter 66 is the longest you have written to me and beauty. About that number –
thereby hangs a story I can’t tell you at the moment. Sufficient for me to say my mind
was made up and Marge's feet weren’t on the ground.
Tell Auntie Ethel I’ll come around and crack a bottle of champagne with her one of
these days. Kindest regards and love to her and Tony. I hope they are both well.
You must be a regular little business woman now fixing up all my business affairs.
Better not skite about it, you might get the job for life. By the way, don't forget the
firm pays my sixpence a week to the Hospital Contribution Fund so if ever you need
it (heaven forbid that you ever will) Miss Porte would collect for you.
And while I'm on hospital topics, when does the next blood donation come off? Dulce
will go in with you I'm sure and it's much better to have one of your own with you to
chat and take your mind away from the doings. Be sure you tell me how you feel
afterwards, won’t you sweetheart and don't forget to mention to the doctor about the
spot on your arm before they start. Things like that are sometimes the result of faulty
sterilization.
I'll make a point of writing to your people soon – it's hard when there’s no news but
I'll scratch up something. I have to write to Mr Patterson and "Bobs" Tree, too. When
I've done that and Cecil's letter my correspondence will be up-to-date. Not bad for a
guy like me, is it?
Hotel Huskisson was a "scarey" sort of place wasn't it and I had to laugh at your
dismay at the time. I got a bit of a scare myself and thought how foolish for not biting
my finger-nails, if you know what I mean
It's nearly bedtime darling so I'll have to hurry through this page. The radio is playing
all the old-timers tonight and it's a little distracting especially when the male chorus at
the end of the room comes in with much gusto.
"Look for the silver-lining" is now getting the works.
Our dream garden will have everything it takes and we’ll spend half our lives putting
in roots and pulling them out. Of course that lavender walk will mean a lot of work
for me but I've always wanted a lavender walk with a pretty little fountain at one end
and shady trees along the side. Even if it's just a little one I'll be satisfied.
119
Sunday Morning. Couldn't finish last night – the noise was too much for me. Next
time I write sweetheart , I’ll pick a quieter spot.
I can hardly wait to hear you whisper the sweetest love letter ever told – it has been
told but I'd like to hear it again
And that my Princess brings me to the end. Goodbye for the present dearest, and
happy days. All my best kisses and love to the most adorable little lady in the world.
Ever your, Me.
PS. Wrote to Mother yesterday but please tell her we're both "not complainin’ "
MUCH.
***
2 May 1943. On lightweight airmail writing pad, in pencil, without regimental
number or sign of censorship. The letter was apparently posted in Sydney by Pte.Joe
Young: it explains the reason for George’s error in his letter of 23 April 1943,
signalling to Marjorie his imminent embarkation from Queensland.
Dearest Marjorie, A big surprise today which` gives me the opportunity to write to
you without worrying about the censor. This morning our lance corporal rushed up all
excited and announced that leave was on – starting from tonight. Don't start getting
too happy because it will be quite a long time before it gets around to me I suppose,
only 10% at a time from the M T can go (i.e.: six personnel) which means it will take
10 months to get through the lot. However, I think some alteration will be made to
that idea and we will be home within four months, provided we don't move onto
Milne Bay or somewhere in the meantime.
After this batch names will be put in a hat and drawn out and I may be lucky. I should
say we may be lucky as Pross and I have decided to stick together.
Joe Young is one of tonight's party and he is posting this in Sydney. He will ring
Cecil and give him the news. Tell Cecil to ring him if he doesn't hear soon. Joe is
taking my watch to Roberts, Rowe Street Sydney darling – will you see what it will
cost to have fixed up and if it's worthwhile
Rushing to get this finished so no time to make this a letter. Joe has the one I finished
this morning which gives news up-to-date.
Leave will be 24 clear days at home – annual leave. I am praying we don't miss out
sweetheart.
Better think up some nice little spot for a holiday – will let you know more in my next
letter.
All my love, darling wife, From, Me.
PS. We had the vehicles actually loaded on the ship with hatches battened down and
ready to sail. That's why the numbers were underlined. The idea still stands however.
Excuse scribble. Love, George
***
120
6 May 1943. On lightweight air mail paper, in pencil, with regimental number, no
censor signature.
My darling Marjorie, It's about 7:30 AM and I'm out in the stix, among the grass
seeds once again. It's a beautiful morning and the crows and other birds are kicking up
the usual hell of a racket. We’re on the same site as before so we ought to get a fair
amount of ultraviolet rays from the sun during the next 48 hours.
I should have written to you last night darling but as there is no one here yet to collect
the mail I haven't lost any time. Your letter of May 3 (67) was delivered to me last
night – that's pretty quick work for a change. The last time I heard from you was on
Saturday and I wrote you two letters on Sunday which no doubt you received with
much glee.
However I don’t think its wise to build up your hopes too much just yet as anything
might happen in the meantime. One thing is certain though, leave has started and
provided everything goes well we will all get our turn eventually – when and from
where it's not possible at this stage to even hazard a guess. I didn't have more than a
quarter of an hour to scribble that last note and I'm afraid it might have been a little
disjointed and hard to understand. I hope you got the general idea anyway. Writing at
that speed in semi-darkness has its difficulties.
Pleased to hear you had a nice week-end with the Five Dock branch – how is the old
Liz these days. You haven't said much about Bill lately but I suppose his letters are
pretty widely spaced. Still if he can write as much as he can talk he should have no
trouble in keeping up a good flow of correspondence. From what I have heard on the
radio he has seen a bit of action or at least has been somewhere near it. Those new
Jap Zeros seem to be causing a bit of trouble – but not for long I hope.
Afternoon, same day about 4 PM: I had to break off and go on parade – route march
through the bush- and a long hard struggle back in dust and heat. I've got a pretty fair
idea what it would be like to die of thirst after this morning's work. I'm sure I drank
half a gallon when we arrived back – and three cups of tea at mess and I still feel like
standing near the water-waggon to fill up again as soon as one lot settles down.
Before I begin to answer your letter, let me tell you that I'm at the top of my form. So
is Pross. As for staying in camp one rest day and doing my washing – don't let that
worry you because it suited me to do so. I won't miss my share of fun, sweetheart, you
can be assured of that.
If Pross is slow with his letter writing you mustn't blame the girls – they devote more
of their time to the Yanks and I'm sure it is because they think Aussies should spend
all their rest days writing home instead of messing about with women. Really I
couldn't care less though, dear girl.
Dulce should start a club for cheering up soldier's wives and elect herself as president.
She's a good old battler isn't she. Her letters are always cheerful and very loving and
she evidently thinks a lot of you.
121
Norma and Bruce will be in Bundanoon at this moment and, I expect, having the time
of their young lives. With her fine strong adoring fiancé to look after her, she should
come back as fit as a fiddle shouldn't she? I hope he takes a firm hand and makes her
go to bed early and rise with the sun for a brisk walk before breakfast.
Tell your Mum and Dad I'm looking forward to the time when we can all get together
again and they can come around on Sunday for tea. Sherry, Port or Sec Cuisenier for
Mum and Rum always for Dad and perhaps a little S B for your own Daddy.
Champagne for the first time though.
I wonder how our sticks of furniture are making out over in the old barn? I'm not
worrying about it at all as I think those people will do the right thing by us. Anyhow
there's not much we could do about is there, except trust them. I suppose all storage
places are chock a block, these days
Your little messages on the side are never overlooked – in fact I usually spot them
first, sweetheart. I gather from them that you still love me like you used to – well that
goes for me too. Won't it be funny when we meet again – perhaps we’ll be shy – or
will we? No – I can't even think of us being shy, can you? That's one thing we've
never been while in each other's company – and I don't think we'll start now do you?
And that, my darling wife, is all I have to say at the moment. Tea is ready and the
lions have started to wend their way over to the little kitchen on the side of the hill.
Goodbye, sweetheart when I come home I’ll just about kiss your lips off but for now
I'll send that regular long loving kiss and cuddle and wish you the happiest of dreams.
Always Yours, George
PS. You enter No. 4 Flat "Nortoft" turn immediately right then, the first doorway on
left. That's heaven or at least, that's where it used to be. Love to all George.
***
8 May 1943. On small Australian Comforts Fund YMCA writing block, lined, in
pencil with military address but no evidence of censorship.
My Darling Marjorie, It's a few days since I've written to you but that's because my
pad's finished. I didn't have any stamps and we were miles out in the bush. However
I'm in town today with Pross and I'm taking a little time out to drop you this note. We
sent a Mothers Day wire to Mother a few minutes ago which should reach her on
Monday – well better late than never.
Your letter number 63 turned up at last and with it came Betty's, written on April 23
and 24 respectively. Shows you how unreliable the mails are these days now. I have
three letters to answer in addition to Mitchells and I was skiting that I kept my
correspondence up-to-date, wasn't I.
I don't remember if there was anything for me to answer in 63 – oh, by the way, your
one-page letter with Mitch's enclosed arrived yesterday, too and was handed to me on
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returning to camp. I must look both up tomorrow and count this note of mine as a
spare.
Pross has just had a hot shower – (had mine before lunch) and Frank and Bill Kelly
have gone to the pictures. We may go tonight if we can get in. There is a wet canteen
in this place now and I expect I'll break that resolution I made, (say "I told you so").
Not much else to do I'm afraid.
Has Joe Young seen Cecil yet? He should be in Sydney by now and having the time
of his life with the new son and heir.
In Mother's last letter to Pross, she seemed to think we were in a very lonely spot –
actually we are quite close to the "teeming millions" but at times we take a
"walkabout" out where there is nothing but gum leaves and hills. The lads we are with
are a good bunch, taking them all round, and we have a good bit of fun together. In
fact I’d much rather be out like that than be stuck in a lousy camp.
Hope the envelope didn't give you a scare – I thought about that after I posted my last
letter. From the notice on the outside you will see that the contents are likely to be
censored at base only and not by unit officers – which is a better idea I think.
Now darling girl, as the YMCA has limited me to 2 pages, I’ll say cheerio. All my
love and kisses, sweetheart, when I come home we’ll get out the letters and I'll deliver
them in person if you like. For now happy dreams and a big hug from your George.
PS. We've got a date before long baby. G.
***
9 May 1943. On lightweight, lined writing pad, in pencil, no censorship signature.
Dearest Marjorie, First of all, to answer the side-note on your letter of May 5 (67
should be 68), "How about a little cuddle?". I can't name the time but you arrange the
place and I'll be in it as many times as you like – definately.
Thank you dear for sending along Mitch's letter – of course I don't mind you reading
it. He doesn't give much news, does he? Suppose he suffers from the same trouble as
myself except that he gets more blondes. Notice how he spoke of the girl with
peaches and cream complexion and of her using Palmolive all-over "presumably".
When I write to him I’ll say that, as a good advertising man, he should have the facts
and not leave anything to presumption. Hughie would have said "she's lovely all-over
– even that little mole on her shapely thigh, enhances her beauty".
It's a pity I can't do something about spacing my letters better than I do but you can
blame the Post Office and trains. Last week was about my worst effort and again, it
was not entirely my fault. To make up for lost time I'm putting in a few extras but
what I'll write about heaven only knows. Maybe something will happen and make it
easier for me.
Last night Pross and I went to the movies and saw once more "Moon over Miami"
and "Whistling in the Dark". Would you like the word for word dialogue of Moon
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over Miami – still Betty Grable's figure is a pippin isn't it? Or would you rather have a
Capstan mild?
I answered Betty's letter this morning and ticked her off about telling me to write
properly in future. The hide of her – I'll give her a kick in the pantettes, when I come
home – if she is fully recovered. That letter of hers and your 63 were much delayed so
I have a legitimate excuse but she keeps me waiting for weeks usually.
My filing system is not too hot and I nearly always answer letters immediately. Not
too sure whether or not I owe Dulce a scribble – the only thing to do is wait a few
days to see if she comes to light and if she doesn't, I'll write. Explain that to her when
you see her, will you darling.
You didn't mention anything more about the Blood donation, sweetheart. I'd like to
know all about it – don't keep anything from me. You'll probably be quite confident
this time – not like me, taking a dive the first time.
I'm going into town in a few minutes, so will catch tonight's mail. May give Su a
tinkle if she's there. All my love kisses and a good old cuddle up. Ever your, Me
PS. I remember well the last time I saw you in your pink gown.
***
10 May 1943. Air Mail Lettercard with penny stamp, in pencil, with regimental
number, censored by Capt. A S Henderson, NX 122033.
My darling Marjorie, I have just received your letter of May 7 (number 68), and I'm
glad to know you got a thrill when you found my letter in the box on Thursday night.
Hope you get another thrill from this one – you ought to, seeing I've written every day
for the past nine days and "that ain't hay".
By this time you'll have had the full dope on the leave position – from me, from Joe
and from Pross, so I think we can let it rest and await further developments.
Pondering over it will only make the time seem to drag, don't you think? Dear little
super-optimist, fancy you expecting me to walk in when you heard about Mrs
Young's wires from Joe. He happened to be one of the lucky guys whose wife had just
had a baby and had asked for special leave previously.
Of course I love you – wait until I walk into the hall, I'll whisper all the sweet
nothings you like in your little pink year, darling. Didn't I say that before.
Don't misunderstand me then I say I have a whale of a time on the "suds". After three
glasses I start to sing and four put me flat on my face. I'll certainly have to get back
into training to withstand the onslaught of Bill's brew and Ida's "bombo".
Colin said to thank you for your kind thoughts and sends his very best wishes to you.
Those permits take a long time to come through these days don't they? Perhaps
Irvine's would be quicker in future. They have a service of their own – or used to
when Ernie Palmer was there.
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I suppose Norma will buck a bit about having to go back to work after her long
absence – glad to hear she's feeling better. She is lucky to have a lad like Bruce, isn't
she?
I think you're wise not to take on the Blood Transfusion again, if you are not feeling
up to it. You sound a little tired – don't overdo things, sweetheart. Take it easy for a
while. Norma mentioned, some time ago, that you are going into town to have your
eyes tested – how are they now? You shouldn't do so much of that fine needlework
under the artificial light – puts too great a strain on your eyes.
Later: I just come back from some bayonet drill and P T – had a shower and want to
get this finished before tea. Strange, a copy of "Pix" I'm using for a rest carries a
picture of Phil Riley and baby on the cover. You may remember – she's the lass we
used for the first "all-over loveliness" series with the bath towel draped so. Also, later
sniffing a cake of Protex when Norm couldn't quite make it. She's not terribly pretty
but she’s certainly photogenic.
This morning I got a letter from Victoria – guessed at once who it came from. Young
Allan. He writes a good letter, although there is no news to pass on. Seems to be keen
on his job and having a good time working hard. Evidently he is a Signaller-driver
though he doesn't actually say so. Being away from home may do him the world of
good and teach him to appreciate things.
There goes the Mess whistle darling so I'll finish now and get some tucker. Give my
fondest love to all at home – tell Mum and Dad to get ready for the big day and be
sure to have a good supply of sugar in the pantry. Look after yourself in the meantime
dear and don't forget what I said about taking things easy. All my love and kisses and
hug, from your George.
PS. Huskisson, oh dear!
***
13 May 1943. Air Mail Lettercard with penny stamp, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Capt. A S Henderson, NX 122033.
Dearest Marjorie, I should have written this last night but I was too tired to do
anything else than have a shower and flop into bed at 8 o'clock. On Monday night it
was the same and I went to roost at 730. These days we are nothing but a labour
battalion. However I feeling very fit though fed up to the back teeth.
Glad to know you received my letters and that they cheered you up. I have 2 or 3 to
answer now – they always seem to come in heaps and muck up my routine. Yours
dated May 8 reached me on Tuesday, which is not bad going considering there was a
Sunday in between.
I rang Su Callan the other day and asked her to come to the pictures but she had a
prior engagement – think Su's going to work on a Squadron Leader, somehow. She
mentioned that Mac had been speaking to you and I explained that the packet in
question should have been my watch which Joe took down for me.
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I wish you were here as "Gone with the Wind" is showing and we always wanted to
see that together didn't we? Perhaps I'll get a chance of seeing it tonight – but the boys
say the "House Full" sign is up long before 7 so it looks pretty hopeless.
LATER (5.45 PM). Started to write immediately after breakfast this morning and
should have had nearly an hour and a half to finish – but no, out on another working
party so my darling must wait another day. Blame the army, dear.
Did you straighten out the tangle over my NX number, with the Post Office? If
there's any trouble have a word with Cec about it and ask him to see the DFO. By the
way how are they treating you when you go to collect your pay? And do you have to
wait in a queue or anything like that? I think it would be a good idea if you arrange to
have the money paid straight to the Bank and draw whatever you want in comfort,
and without having to suffer those guys at the PO. Why not enquire into it – see the
Bank and ask them for particulars, tell them it's not convenient for you to be in
Drummoyne on Thursdays owing to your Red Cross work. As a matter-of-fact, you
don't have to make any explanations, just tell them you want the money paid into your
account – that’s if it suits you.
The mail's just come in bringing me letters from you (May 10) and Cecil. Not much
difficulty to read the cheers between the lines. But steady on, old girl, don't start
building up on anything until you get a wire from me saying I’m on the way home.
That may not be for months and I'd hate to have you disappointed or impatient. Of
course there's a certain amount of shuffling for positions. I understand that quite a
number of applications have gone in for priority but I trust they will be treated
judiciously. No one could want to get home sooner than I to see the dearest girl in the
world but I refuse to concoct any story to try to defeat justice.
I haven't enough space here to answer your latest letter so I'll write again tomorrow,
sweetheart. Goodbye for now and keep on hoping for that 24 days of heaven soon.
We’ll certainly have at least a week's holidays away from the 2 million – plenty of
time to make arrangements when you get the glad tidings from me. All my love and
kisses and extra big hug tonight from, Yours as ever, George.
PS I LOVE YOU.
***
14 May 1943. On exercise book paper, with regimental number, in pencil, without
indication of censorship.
My darling Marjorie, I'm starting to write in the waning daylight so that I can get a
good start before going into the noisy mess hut where the radio blares and everybody
seems to be talking at once. As I said before your May 10 letter (70) distinctly reflects
the joy in your heart over the news of leave. But always remember the old adage
"There's many a slip twixt cup and lip" – I'm not trying to put the damper on your
feelings only trying to prevent you from getting way up in the air to find yourself
having to bail out without a parachute.
I'm sure you won't worry Daddy with your questions and tell him to consider himself
extremely lucky to be where he is. Dulcie appears to make a success of the Cheer up
society – good old WW – should get a big kiss for Christmas.
126
Don't forget to enquire who owes who a letter ‘cos I really don't know. Mothers Day
visitors seem to have made it a meeting of the clan – suppose you had the Esse going
flat out (Dad pushing it back every now and then – and the usual big circle of
chatterboxes. It will be hard for me to get used to the cold weather and rain after
being up North.
Now listen here, sweetie, you keep on writing all you can and don't go chiseling me
out of those few lines. I want the full details of everything that happens in your young
life just as if I were at home.
That about answers your letter except the "I love you" part and that goes for me too.
Daylight has faded, mozzies are terrific, so to the den of weird noises and din.
It's not so bad after all – only a few here at the moment and the music is soft and low.
How are you darling? You haven't told me it about the pains in your face. Did you
take a trip to the dentist to ask his advice? It's foolish suffer the pain unnecessarily
you know and it may be a tooth causing the trouble.
In my last letter to Cecil, I asked him to send me some cigarette papers if he could get
them. They are as scarce as hen’s teeth up here. Will you do the same – you could slip
a packet into the envelope as they’re very light in weight. Don't go rushing all over
the place to get them but if you can buy an odd packet or two it would relieve the
situation a bit.
Colin has just come in and asks me to convey his very sincerest regards to Mrs
Seagrove – he’s scratching away with a pen opposite me – beats me what he writes
about but he maintains he could go on forever. He was very pleased to hear that you
had enquired about him and thanks you for your good wishes.
Yesterday another bulletin from the office arrived, with the usual lot of “hooey" from
the Editor, (Snowie, I think), only personal touch about it was Bob Tree's "Hi yuh,
Cos" written in pencil on the side. The crowd now call themselves "Geeps at 24"
adopting the suggestion from Su Callen. Kim Patterson contributed a short note this
time but no word from Hughie or Mitch. Of course Hughie's experience could be
repeated anyhow and Mitch could only say he'd dropped a few eggs on Berlin or
something. Do you ever see anything of Mrs Kolts or Betty? If you do happen to meet
any of them, be sure to give them my kind regards and enquire about Trevor. I must
drop the old so-and-so a line and remind him about the last time we "blacked-out"
together which was long, long ago.
Now, sweetheart, I'll say goodbye for the present. I'm always thinking of you and
dreaming of the good times to come. We’ll make hey hey while the sun shines. All
my love and kisses, darling wife, From Your,
George.
PS. Love to all – G
***
127
17 May 1943. On lined writing pad paper, in pencil, without regimental number and
no evidence of censorship.
My darling Marjorie, I fully intended to write to you last night in reply to your letter
of 12/5/43 (71) but fate intervened and I work through until 4:30 AM this morning.
Slepted in until 11.30 – had lunch and now I hope to be able to finish a letter, do some
washing and finish up with Frank in town tonight.
Holidays seem to be just as remote as ever at the moment, in spite of everything that
has been said and done. Which goes to prove the old saying "Life is made up of
expectations and disappointments" but don't let your heart get too sad for Christmas is
not so very far away and – Lady – am I looking forward to those peanuts and beer
with you? Perhaps I'll get down before them – who knows? Nobody knows what will
happen next on this job and any anticipation is merely guesswork so I'll leave it at
that.
You'll be surprised as I was when you learn that Marge is leaving us – must have a
better job somewhere else. I could almost cry as I have known her for a long time and
she's been a big help to me looking after my things. It's almost like losing a wife and
home.
The big boy got a letter from Cecil yesterday telling us about Joe's visit – evidently he
didn't see you. I understand he’s paying another call later on but I wouldn't place too
much confidence in what he says. Things up here have changed considerably since
Joe was here – he wouldn't know the place and is likely to give you wrong
impressions. Especially now that Marge is going away.
I wish I could have taken the trip up to Artarmon with you – Flowers and gardens do
make a difference to an otherwise ordinary landscape don't they? Never before have I
realised that flowers mean so much to one. There are no florists shop in this town and
with few exceptions the gardens are very poor. Yet, in spite of this and the dust, the
natural scenery is lovely. Big trees which look like Morton Bay Figs, Palms of all
kinds and Coconut trees give the place a tropical atmosphere. Strange birds (to me),
with long legs and beaks, which might have escaped from a zoo wander around the
waterholes picking up their food as mechanically as clockwork. In the background the
low hills take on a blue hue and the outcrop of rock's reflecting the sunlight give them
the appearance of ethereal skyscrapers of a fairy city. Try that description in James
Fitzpatrick mode and maybe it won't sound so bad.
It's not hard to realise how much Bill misses Mum – particularly for the first few
weeks. He'll get used to it after the first six months or so then he will give up and feel
that he’s buried up there for life. Betty by this time, will have lost all her slimness and
I suppose the selection of names is a great topic of conversation when the girls are
gathered in the knitting circle.
Haven't heard from my sugar Norma for some time. She must've forgotten me and the
way we used to play. How is she doing these days and how’s Brucie? Let me know
about the goings-on in your next letter and tell me how everybody is making out.
Please be sure to send those snaps too and if possible a packet of cigarettes papers.
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That's all for now sweetheart: all my love and sweetest kisses, Always Your, Me.
PS. Dearest girl in the world, my kisses will be extra good.
***
19 May 1943. On airmail writing pad paper, in pencil, no regimental number, no
evidence of censorship.
My dearest Marjorie, When I arrived back home this afternoon I found Dulce's letter
waiting for me but none from you – and my chin dropped. About an hour later I
discovered the envelope with the familiar hand-writing – your 72nd effort – and so
everything in the garden's rosy.
Thanks darling for sending the photographs – they are lousy. I had a feeling that they
wouldn't be very good as the light wasn't right for the fixed exposure, but as explained
previously sleepy "Sam" held me up with the camera and everything had to be rushed
at the last minute. The very underexposed shots were taken on a track in the jungle,
the sun was shining through at that particular spot but evidently there was insufficient
light. The ones taken at the falls weren’t so good either, probably because of the
position of the sun and shadows. Really the falls are magnificent – only the top half is
shown and from that point where we were sitting they would be half a mile away. It's
a pity I didn't get an upshot from the valley floor 900 feet below, (think I said 400 feet
before). No wonder Mother said we looked as if we were going bald – not quite as
bad as it appears, I hope. People will be saying "she married him for his money" if I'm
wrong, won't they? I expect you have already ordered a second lot of prints of this lot
– if you haven't, forget about it as the pictures of the others are very poor and they
don't want them. I'd like to see the other film when it's through.
I'm pleased to hear that my letters spread out to a daily delivery almost. Some of them
were sent airmail and some ordinary, that would account for the mixed up order of
receipt.
There's no change in the position here – I told you that the chance of a holiday in
Sydney has been suspended for the time being. I'll get there eventually but when,
depends on what the boss’s plans are and he hasn't told me yet.
That watch of mine may not be worth the cost of repair – remember the day I dived
into the Parramatta with that on my arm. I think some water must have got into the
works and rusted the hairspring. I took it to a watchmaker some months ago and he
was going to fix it up for 10 bob which seemed a very reasonable as it would require a
good cleaning in addition to the new spring. However watches are practically
unprocurable these days I believe and if Roberts can get it going and guarantee it,
even a few bob wouldn't be too much for the job. It's awkward being without the time
on this job and people don't like lending their watches.
Yesterday I had a day in town with the boys and broke my resolutions good and
proper. Cost me about a pound for drinks, meals and pictures. We went to the first
picture show we came to and slept for the best part of the programme. At the interval
I woke with a start and went out for a cool drink and some fruit after which I felt a
whole lot better and resumed my seat after a long search. Saw Edward G Robinson in
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"Blackmail". A nice quiet snooze on the seashore would have been much more
sensible but you know how things are in such cases.
You seem to be getting a fair amount of rain lately – should be good for the lawns and
plants. This place could do with a few drops to lay the dust – not too much though as
the country is very flat and I'm sure everything would be underwater in heavy rain.
Dulce's letter clears up my query as to whether it was my turn to write – I'd hate to
overlook anybody.
Glad to hear your eyes are feeling good – mine haven't been the best lately. I'll have
them attended to when the moment is opportune.
Dad has had a bad trot hasn’t he – tell him not to let things get him down. I always
remember the epitaph on the Cowboy’s grave "He done his damnedest. Angels could
do no more". And that applies to Dad, too. Give my love to your Mother and dear sis
Norma – Lady, am I glad she's well again? Wait till I get back. Oh boy! Oh boy!
You been in my thoughts every minute of the day darling and I'm longing to see you
again, to hold you and tell you how much I love you. Just be patient until then.
Always Yours, Me.
PS. I'll smother you with kisses.
***
21 May 1943. On airmail letter With penny stamp, regimental number, in pencil,
censored by Lt. D C McAulay AASC, numbered 101 externally.
My dearest Marjorie, Received your letter number 71 (May 17) this morning and I'm
hastening to reply as I’m going out tonight and won’t have time. There’s a VAD
dance admission by invitation and it's for Aussies only, I understand, so it should be
quite a change. When the Yanks are in on anything they simply saturate the place and
jitterbug everyone out of the way. It's really a waste of money for me to go as I cant
dance, these fancy steps are beyond me – much rather be going down to Romanos for
supper dance with you. We’re not bad together, are we?
Those trees seem to be causing you some concern – how are they going? Up over the
fence yet? Or were you referring to the two big fellers outside your window. Best
thing to do with those two is to climb up on the fernery and clip the tops back so that
their trunks will grow thicker and be able to withstand the strong gusts that come
around that corner. Fred Gibson will give you some advice on how it should be done
– maybe he’d do the job for you.
Norma seems to have lost a bit of confidence about going back to work. Tell her I
said not to be a sucker. Her nerve trouble was brought about by the amount of work
they shoved onto her, (most of it anyhow) and they are not being benevolent by
paying her for a few lousy weeks holiday. If she goes back feeling that they have done
her a good turn, the kid will develop an inferiority complex and won't like asking for
a rise when she should get one. Miss Porte tells me all the girls are being paid at least
£3.10 week and do you know there are labourers in the C.C.C. earning £15 a week
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for boiling billies and making tea, cooks making £22 a pay. The poor old soldier still
struggles along on 3d an hour and moans like hell about it all the time.
The Searles you referred to – are they Henry and Anne? If they are I’ll say I know
them. Say "Hi Yuh" to them for me. Pross knows them too and you should hear him
rave about the Searle family. You know that Grandpop Searle is the famous sculler's
brother, I suppose.
Must finish here darling space is short. Love and kisses to you, sweetheart from,
Yours as ever, George
PS. Wonderful is not the right word – it would be more like "heaven". Be always you.
G.
***
22 May 1943. On airmail writing pad, in pencil, no regimental number, no evidence
of censorship.
My darling Marjorie, I'll take up the thread of events from where I left off yesterday.
I think I was hurrying through my note to you at midday so that I could get away
early to prepare for the dance. Well, after the dirt and grime of the day had been all
washed away I donned me Sunday best and in company with Frank and Dina, strolled
over to the local tavern. There the usual proceedings of getting as many beers as
possible while it lasted was in progress, but with a little bit of pressure and sheparding
the three managed to breast the bar. For once we were able to make our quota before
the " No Beer" sign went up. Eventually the crowd melted and we stood talking to 2
Americans on the veranda while waiting for a lift into town. Presently a bottle of
"steam" came to light and also a bottle of "Vickers" – as there was no squash
available we decided not to drink the gin. By this time, everybody was happy and the
dance seemed to be on the "outer" – the Yanks were all for meeting the goods sorts
we’d promised to introduce them to and we were in favour of getting rid of the Yanks
when they became persistent. So the invitations to the dance were produced and
hurried, confused farewells were taken and we jumped on a truck going to town. Had
a lovely fish tea, followed by grilled steak done to my liking and plenty of fresh
bread-and-butter. Then someone asked the time and discovered that it was 8.30 and
we’d paid have a dollar each for the "invites" and we weren't going to be robbed.
At the hall, the kindly ladies beamed on us and asked us sweetly if we were the lads
who nearly wrecked the place a few nights previously. Being assured that we were
perfect gentleman, the dear souls allowed us past the barrier and promised to dance
with us later. I couldn't see many women at all inside – not until the men started to
move around and then my eyes became accustomed to the sight and I was able to pick
them out here and there. Every dance was a matter of hopping in and tapping and you
know how retiring I am. I lost interest immediately in everything except the supper,
which for me consisted of two small sandwiches, two watery cordial drinks and a
cake. After listening to the lousy band for a couple of numbers, I became very bored
and tired so I grabbed my hat and without even having part of a dance, I walked out.
Into a glorious moonlight night, and lady, did I feel like jumping over the moon. If
you could have been at my side it would have been perfect. I walked quietly home by
myself, not noticing the distance a bit. When I got to the bridge, I stopped for a while
131
watching the tide flooding the river and the moonlight darting around on the ripples
and the fish splashing about. Then home and into bed for a beautiful sleep without
any disturbance. But wasn't that a peculiar way for a person to have a really enjoyable
evening?
This morning I thought to myself "Won't get a letter today because I got one
yesterday" but to my great surprise there were two for me. Yours of May 19 and one
from the old Trev after all these months. He doesn't give much news but says he’s
trying for a recall. He met Hughie in March and they had planned to have leave
together and hoped to rope in Mitch for a session. Says he has a feeling that will be
back to the old routine next year. He’s not the only one who hopes that, is he? I'll send
the letter on to you later. If possible
Now to answer your letter. Firstly, I don't ever overwork myself, except when I feel
like it, darling. Getting tired doesn't mean a thing in my young life as long as I can get
enough sleep to recover. Actually in the last few days things have slackened off and
we’re having plenty of rest. The mention of a hot bath and your home cooking makes
me think of the good old days. Home at night, hopping into the bath, Norma peeping
through the keyhole and a nice piece of steak grilling on the gas stove. That early
morning rising to catch the 4.30 train was a bit of a strain wasn't. Still I wouldn't mind
doing it again, would you?
About that dream, I bet I wasn't too tired. Gosh, I wish that wasn't a dream.
Su didn't really turn me down you know. It was only that she couldn't make a date that
night and I don't feel like rushing around to take her out when she has a lot of friends
whom she probably likes to go places with as a crowd.
"Gone with the Wind" has gone without me seeing it – we’ll see it together in Sydney
sometime I expect. It should be revived from time to time.
I'm happy to know that you will take anything that comes, good or no so good, like a
little Briton – knew you would. I hate to think of you being unhappy. Just keep on
hoping but don't start counting the days.
Marge is still with us, sweetheart. Seems quite probable that she won't be allowed to
leave now. For which, I'm thankful
Bill ought to have a fair chance of a job as a compositor up where he is if he feels like
switching over, I should think. I wonder if he's thought about it. Would mean a rise
and possibly promotion. I know a couple of lads, (not very well), who started that
paper for the army. Bill knows one of them himself, I think. One was a printer by the
name of Bill Sellers who closed down his business and joined the Army.
Bruce is a great scout and is very kind to take you to the pictures. Hope you enjoyed
the show. I may go on Monday night to see "Birth of the Blues" one of Bing Crosby's
that we missed.
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Pross received his lot of snaps today and we both think they are excellent. Dina wants
a set for himself but I'll wait till mine arrive and I'll let you know what to order. Some
of my fans may want one of me.
The cigarette paper position has eased a little so you needn't worry about rushing
around too much for them, now. If you have not sent them already keep them in
reserve for a rainy day.
And speaking of rainy days – your weather seems to be the damage type. I still think
of Sydney as the parched area with almost empty dams. The Smelbourne people used
to wisecrack about things being "as rare as a clean Sydney-sider with his 3 inches of
bathwater". Melbourne couldn't last half the time in a drought like that.
Darling girl, that’s all I have to say at this time. Give my fondest love to everyone and
tell Betty I’ll bet sixpence it's a girl. For you I send a dozen of those "you know the
kind" kisses and my greatest love. Ever Your, Me
PS. I read the message on the side of your letter and I'm with you all the way. PS.
Delmony! (Click, click). Forgetting Daffy, of course.
***
24 May 1943. On airmail Lettercard, with penny stamp, in pencil, regimental number,
censored by Lt. D C McAulay AASC, ( NX113434).
My dearest Marjorie, I have just finished midday Mess and have decided to scribble
you this little note while I've a few minutes to spare. I'll start anyway – probably get
stuck and have to finish it tonight
How are you sweetheart and how is the old chin? Hope you are sparking on all
cylinders and keeping up the morale on the home front. There seems to be quite a lot
of good shows on in Sydney at present and you should be getting an eyeful of them. I
saw a review of "For Whom the Bill Tolls" somewhere recently and it should be a
little out of the ordinary but from the report, I wouldn't advise you to see it. That stark
realism in these days is something we don't want to see when we are after
entertainment. It's much better to go for things on the lighter side don't you think? I
suppose the local show is always crowded on Saturday Night as in the good old days.
You should see the crowds they get at the theatres here – they queue up by the dozens
every night. Mostly soldiers of course. Last night two of us went into town intending
to have a look at "Strange Cargo", (Clark Gable), but the lineup turned us right off
and so we whittled the time away reading old magazines in the YMCA instead.
I forgot to ask you about the air-raid shelter in my last letter – full of water, I suppose,
after the heavy rain. You are going to have a lot of fun bailing it out – and plenty of
work. Best thing for you people to do in the event of an alarm is to run like blazes
down to 22 Wolsely Street. Hope you never have to do that anyway. Did you hear
anything more on about the firefighting business? My guess is that old so and so
Thornthwaite thought up that idea. Or was it Elsie and Ray? I wouldn't take it too
seriously if I were you. Somebody might chuck a dummy incendiary at you and
nearly blow your head off, like they did once before. You know what to do in case of
emergency and you're not supposed to be a first class Fireman.
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And that, darling, is about all I can think of the right at present. Main thing though is I
have said "Hello" and how are you and that’s all one can say these days isn't it? Pross
and I are both very well – never felt better myself. I still miss your cottage pies but
they'll be even more appreciated when we get around to them again – so don't forget
the recipe.
Goodbye for now, dear with love and kisses from, Yours as always, George. PS. Love
to all. G
***
25 May 1943. On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, in pencil, with regimental
number, censored by Lt. D C McAulay AASC, marked 104 on outside.
Dearest Marjorie, Your letter 75 (May 22) reached me this morning and that's extra
fast going. Postmark bears yesterday's date, 4:15 AM, Sydney.
Thank you dear for the cigarette papers, prints and stamps – I'm a bit of a drain on
your pocket book these days aren't I? It seems strange that they are cutting out
making writing pads. What do they think people are going to write on. Toilet paper of
course is one solution but what happens when that's all been used. Perhaps you
should better keep one of the two blocks Norma got for me, I can scrounge a few
sheets of paper from the YMCA occasionally and this issue of airmail lettercards will
keep me going.
The snaps are not as well printed as the lot Pross got, are they? Did you have them
done by Irvine's? They are not bad though and I'm sure "Dina" will be pleased with
them. Told him he looked like a gorilla in the one where the three of us are holding
coconuts. (Pictured L to R: George, Pross, and Dina).
I sure do miss you very much but apart from that I'm feeling very well. The tucker is
fair and an occasional meal in town breaks the monotony of army diet
Pleased to hear your teeth are not troubling you – was afraid you are postponing that
visit to the dentist. I know your form – last time you made little of tooth and suffered
in silence for a long while.
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Don't misunderstand me when I ask you about your Red Cross activities – it's only to
fill up space. You do more than your share at home and there's no earthly reason why
you should take on a job like that, except that you feel that way about it.
I wrote to Hughie, Mitch and Trev last night. Not bad eh? Trev's letter sort of spurred
me on. By the way he sent his love to you and asked to be remembered to Miss Mac
and all the office gang. I'll enclose the letter next time I use an envelope.
It's a funny thing that you should have been asked to a dance on Saturday. I went on
Friday, as you know, and was a beautiful wallflower. Not that it worried me any but
we could have had a good time together.
Norma seems to be sparking up a bit again – she owes me a letter you might inform
her. Don't be too hard on her though, I suppose she still curls up in the lounge as soon
as tea is over. How'd she get on with her bighearted employers? Did they come across
with the rest of her sick pay – or is she looking for a new job? That's what I do in her
position.
Pross heard from Harry25 yesterday – he seems to be working as hard as ever. Sue, I
believe is now going to Audley, with Ann and is beginning to like it very much. She
must be much happier having her sister to look after her and having common interests
in the school.
I'm on my rest day today but I'm not going out until about 4 o'clock. Then for a few
beers, a grill and a looksee at the movies, so you see life is very ordinary for me too.
Now if I were in Sydney I could think of a lot of things to do – but here – well, the
pictures may be good, the beer will quench the thirst and the grill will be a change.
That's all for now, my darling wife, and it's not much is it? Next time I'll write you a
little poe about how much I love you or something. Goodbye until then and sweet
dreams. All my love and kisses, Yours always, George
PS have you heard anything of Allan Savanty – is he back?
***
26 May 1943 . On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, in pencil, with regimental
number, censored by Lt. D C McAulay AASC,( NX113434), marked 103 on outside
My dearest Marjorie, The letter you wrote last Sunday afternoon and finished on
Monday reached me this morning and Norma's note came yesterday so I'm pretty well
informed of the doings in the South.
Don't go to too much trouble about my watch, darling – most of the parts come from
overseas and are impossible to obtain. A watchmaker in (censored by excision) told
me that months ago – said that he’d tried all over Australia for springs without
success. I'll have to guess the time by the sun or borrow a watch when I need one
badly. It's a wonder the Army doesn't make provision for the repair of watches and
clocks – maybe they have for the big shots.
Sydney certainly is getting its share of rain wind and cold weather – hope you are
getting enough coke to keep the Sunray going. "Sunday Sun" says there's an acute
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shortage of fuel in the metropolitan area. You'll have to demolish the shelter and use
the fireplace if things get worse.
I'm feeling exceptionally well except that “things are frightfully boring, dear girl,” as
Sefton Daley would say. A little bit of leave would be the best antidote monotony ,
don't you think?
You surprise me, Marjorie, drinking sherry or something and then going to sleep. At
one time you boasted that Sherry had no effect upon you – perhaps it was the warmth
of the fire that made you drowsy. Can't say I blame you – nothing is more boring than
a game of cards in which you not interested. My bet is two Bob that your mother
wasn't awake either.
They seem to be giving Anne the works on the business, don't they? Does she ever
learn anything else? Her active young brain ought to be taking in more of the material
things of life I think. It's a shame to hold back a smart child like that – which by the
way, is none of my business as Bet would say. How is the old girl, these days and
how are the Wehrs? Is Mick still making a fortune and throwing it on for the boys?
Give my kind regards to them all when you see them again and tell them to reserve a
bottle for me for when I come home.
We read about the "Centaur" in the newspapers and of its sinking at the hands of a Jap
submarine.26 It shows that these Jap Commanders are a ruthless lot without regard to
international law as well as being lunatics. The day of reckoning will come and that
beast will cop what's coming to him. I've been reading quite a lot about Bushido, the
Japanese code of "honour" and it seems that they can do anything provided that they
are loyal to their lords and masters. To hell with the outside world!
That pen that which gives you so much trouble, probably, needs a good cleaning.
Take it to pieces and wash it with warm soapy water and squeeze the nib into shape. I
know it requires a new bladder but it should write well when you're dipping it into
ink.
Thanks for the writing paper darling. I got the parcel this afternoon and in it a short
note from Norma. Tell Mother, Pross has a pad and can't use single sheets of paper.
She must have misunderstood me. I merely thought that it would be a good idea if you
could include a couple of pads in the parcel she was sending at the time. Had no idea
that the shortage was so acute. We can get writing material from the YMCA always
and I believe the canteens have a new supply, now. All my love and kisses sweetheart
until my next letter, George.
***
28 May 1943. On quarto sized writing block, lined, in pencil, with regimental
number, no evidence of censor.
My darling Marjorie, Arrived back in about 5 PM tonight after a hard days work
stacking and unloading barbed-wire. So I'm feeling pretty tired. However, my spirits
136
rose when I found letters from you and Norma waiting for me and I'm trying to
answer both of them now.
Joe seems to have made a hit – and it's good of him to take out a bit of his leave to
visit home for a second time. I suppose you fired lots of questions at him and I'm sure
he'd be able to give you a vivid description of our travels since we left home. I've
often said to Joe that I'd be willing to bet that he and I could beat any other three at
talking and I wouldn't open my mouth. One night he held the floor for about three
hours regaling us with stories of his experiences which were amazingly varied. He
had us in fits of laughter most of the time. Like all little men, he’s cocksure of
himself and although his driving is pretty terrible he thinks he’s an ace. Pross gets
very worried when Joe is driving, I believe. Apart from a few minor faults he is an
extremely likeable little chap and we all get on well together. Proud Poppa will be
back next week so I'll have the pleasure of a commentary on his meeting up with you.
By then we will know a little more in regard to the leave position. Of course I'm
hoping that Pross and myself will be lucky but our chances seem pretty remote. In any
case the days are mounting up all the time and if they keep us waiting too long we’ll
have so much leave due to us that they'll have to finish the war without us.
The snap of me sitting on the doesn't make me look handsome but it has a good
background and it's like me. As usual I need a haircut and the shorts (the only pair I
have) badly needed a dip in Persil. (Pictured on right, with Ron Dymant and Joe
Young, centre).
By the way you haven't sent me a new one of you –' spose that's because you can't get
a film for the camera. Keep trying as I would love a picture of you with your haircut
and done in the new style. Norma did tell me about it some time ago but I couldn't
visualise it.
As far as the looks the good-looking girls gave me – you flatter me, darling. It was
your charming personality that those usherettes fell for and also their treatment of
soldiers in uniform (particularly AIF) is famous. Sydney girls are ace-high with the
NSW boys and I hope that they don't do anything to change that opinion. Of course
137
one shouldn’t judge the whole by the actions of the few but Brisbane women certainly
made themselves unpopular with our lads.
My eyes seem a bit better lately – lack of fresh green vegetables I think is probably
the cause of them not being in first-class order. When the opportunity presents itself
you bet your life I’ll see an eye specialist. Don't get the idea that there is anything
radically wrong, a few drops may be all that is required
My dancing days are o’er, I’m afraid, sweetheart – or rather I should say hopping into
a public dance then picking up a partner doesn't appeal to me much. Give me the good
old days when one went with a party and always had a partner especially the partner.
That date at Romanos is OK and we’ll make "hey! hey!"
Last night I was on picquet and it was pitch black in spite of the fact that the stars
were bright in the sky. The old moon is down to its last quarter again and is late in
rising this week. Hope we strike a few of those lovely moonlight nights when I'm
home, but no matter what it's like, we’ll have a good time, won't we?
Marge is still around and I'll stick to her while I'm here. She's a good pal and I
understand her better than anyone else.
Glad to hear that you are feeling so well sweetheart and Norma tells me you've got the
cutest little figure. She ain't telling me a thing – you always did have that certain
something that made everyone take notice. Don't let your heart ache too much darling
– I get like that sometimes then I think of how sweet it will be when we start to live
like a couple of married people again. We’ll fight for the things we want with a new
vigour and love with a love that has been tested.
I feel like smothering you with kisses tonight, sweetheart wife, instead of writing
about them but that's all I can do. So until my next scribble, Goodbye and bless your
little heart. Ever Your Own, George
PS. My love to all the folks at home.
***
29 May 1943. On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, in pencil, with regimental
number, censored by Lt. D C McAulay AASC, marked 106 on outside.
My darling Marjorie, I wrote to you last night and enclosed the letter with a couple of
others in a envelope to be censored at Base Post Office. Let me know when you
receive it won’t you so that I’ll know how long a letter takes to reach you that way.
I forgot to tell you to thank Miss Wilson for the cutting – tell her I had a good laugh
over it. The dear old soul. Actually it was culled from the Army magazine "Salt"
which is issued regularly to the troops. As far as a message for her is concerned – well
"you've got me there, pal". She might not appreciate one of my naughty stories and
that’s all I can think of at the moment. We must ask her around one afternoon to a
little afternoon tea party on the back lawn.
138
I'm feeling pretty tired tonight – long route march this morning and organised sports
this afternoon. That bloke who combs my hair in the morning will be hitting the hay
before very long and I bet he'll curse like blazes when reveille goes in the morning.
Darling, when you see Mother and Judy point out to them that you sent me all the
writing paper I require. They sent up some single sheets and also a couple of small
scribbling blocs which will do in a pinch but what I asked for was a writing pad and I
had no idea that they were so scarce. Another thing, I wanted you to buy it for me and
simply suggested that they included in a parcel they were packing for Pross. The
Comforts Fund and Church huts hand out writing paper to the troops so we’ll
probably never get to a stage where we have to use the toilet roll.
How is the old "count" these days? I never ask about him, do I? When he's not
working at his papers, he'd be bottling up that ginger beer I suppose, so you wouldn't
see much of him. Do they still get a bit of petrol or is the car up on blocks? Kind
regards to both the boys and love to all the favourites, Dulce, Bet, Mum and Dad.
Hope they are all well.
Good night my darling and happy dreams. Love and kisses from your own, George
PS. After kisses the boys usually add BOLTOP (better on lips than on paper) silly
isn't it?. NB: It took me an hour to write this – that's how bad I am.
***
31 May 1943. Quarto sized writing block, lined, in pencil with regimental number no
evidence of censorship.
My darling Marjorie, I didn't get a letter from you today and it is quite likely that my
luck will be out for a few days. Once again the mail has gone to THE PLACE and is
being redirected. However I will try to rake up a little bit of a scribble to fill up the
gap – although it is a hard struggle when there are so many obstacles.
We've been training pretty solidly for the last two days and my legs feel as if all the
ligaments have been stretched. When I go to step up into the truck I must look
something like Dad climbing up the stairs –' spose it will wear off in a couple of days.
That hundred yard sprint the other day must have been too much for the old gent.
Last night my peaceful slumbers were disturbed by the pitter-patter of raindrops on
the top of my mosquito net but apart from that the weather is still about the same. I
didn't get out of bed-just poked my head out from under the net and decided it was
only a passing shower which wouldn't soak through and then snuggled up again. Next
thing I heard was reveille – that shows how well I sleep these days
Today, a long route much and a routine exercise – which brings me right up to date
with the doings.
How are you, sweetheart wife and what are you doing with yourself to pass the time
away? Every second of every minute you are in my thoughts – I can see your lovely
little face in everything before me. Don't think I mope all day but you are never out of
my mind whatever I'm doing. Last night I had a dream and it must have been just after
the rain started for when I woke up I remembered it clearly and thought I'd pass it on
to you. We’d taken Mrs Rouse's flat which it seemed, Olwyn had been occupying for
139
a while. You were very concerned about some scratches on the sideboard and I was
trying to rub them out with some tan boot polish. A piece of wall paper was flapping
in the breeze and you said "George, we’ll have to fix this before it tears right off" –
and I suggested that you get out the bottle of Clag to stick it down. Not a very
startling dream, was it, but it shows how things get mixed up in the subconscious
mind and how things are stored away without one being aware of it. I was
disappointed when I realised it was only a dream – but then I thought "We’ll be
starting out somewhere better than "Nortoft" when times are normal again”.
Do you remember how you used ask me how much I loved you, darling and I always
used say words couldn't express it. You asked me that same question in your last letter
didn't you? Now I'm going to have a try to answer you.
Remember how I told you about a lovely princess coming into my life one day. The
little girl who used walk down the street with her head erect, her shoulders squared
and the sweetest smile on her face. I was lucky because that smile was for me. Often
she would lean on her elbows on the verandah rail and be watching the boats sailing
along the river. I can still see the sun shining on her silvery hair and the wind tossing
it around playfully. A little frown of annoyance would sometimes flit across her brow
when the wind became too boisterous and she’d toss her head, turn on her heels, then
a wave and a smile for me and she was gone. I think that was when I just knew that I
loved her– because there seemed to be an emptiness in my heart when she had
disappeared.
Then came the time when I really spoke to her and found that she had the softest
voice yet clearest anyone could wish for. Like a sweet bell and what she said had that
certain firmness behind it which was pleasant but final, as befitting a princess. My
wildest dream had come true when she consented for me to become her escort a
couple of nights later.
The first time I walked beside her, my heart was pounding against my chest but she
set me at ease and I linked my arm in hers. She talked of little things that had
happened recently and an enchanting little laugh would escape from her lips as
something amused her. At the end of that night, I was in a daze. Her nearness had
brought something to me that couldn't be defined – I wanted her, wanted to be with
her all the time, wanted to do the things she did, wanted to be as she wished me to be.
In other words I had fallen hook line and sinker, but because I was so dumb and my
princess was so modest she didn't know about it.
However, other nights and other opportunities and before long we had a mutual
understanding and we were happy. Kisses were supreme ecstasy for me and those
lovely nights when two hearts were blended into one are too sacred to put into words.
I would take any night we spent together and tell you the effect it had on me but I
couldn't put it into words.
As the weeks rolled into months plans began to take shape and we began to take steps
to make our dreams come true. The day came when we announced our betroyal – or
rather I should say, the evening came when I took my princess under the apple tree in
the traditional manner, and asked her to be my wife and she said "Yes". Like a couple
140
of school kids, we rushed into the house to announce the news and there was great
rejoicing.
Eleven months later, a small group gathered around the radio awaiting the momentous
announcement by the Prime Minister of England. Then "This Nation is at War" and
we were bewildered. How far reaching this would be nobody dared guess. My first
Lady was indeed sorely troubled – not about her own well-being but like the rest of
the nation she knew what war meant.
A decision was made and in seven days the family were informed that there would be
a wartime wedding -- a week from that day, without frills – a ceremony of the
simplest possible nature with only those nearest and dearest to us in attendance. What
a stir that caused but after all, it was our wedding, and it was what we desired.
Simplicity and Sincerity. In spite of some hurt feelings, – (quite unjustified) that day
is one that will live in our hearts forever and I'm sure we'll never regret the lack of
customary trimmings which really don't mean a thing.
The two years that followed were the fulfilment of our dream but in the background
there was a shadow of parting always lurking. At last we were parted. No one will
ever know what that meant to us. The breaking up a home was nothing compared with
the thought of being separated. Both tried to be cheerful and hold back the tears that
couldn’t be checked. Why, I don't know, because there is nothing to be ashamed of in
a few tears.
For a long time we saw each other at intervals, then came the night when we were to
be separated for an unknown period of time. Fortunately we were spared the
heartbreaks of a final leave farewell but I know how my heart ached during the
ensuing weeks before Christmas.
Letters came eventually which showed that my princess had gone through the same
experience. Across the space of time and miles came messages of hope and
understanding and two spirits were as close as ever. Each had a job to do and each
was doing it as if directed by some unseen force.
Here was a great love being tested – a love that today is stronger than ever because it
has known sorrow as well as laughter, thrills and joy.
That, my darling princess, is my way of telling you how much I love you. Tomorrow I
will say I love you more than anything else in life which is the same thing in other
words. But now I must finish as "Lights out" has sounded.
All my tenderest kisses and love to you, sweetheart. I am, Faithfully Yours, George
PS. Of course you can share a little bit of that love with Mum, Dad Norma and all at
home. G.
***
141
June 1943
Embarkation for and arrival New Guinea
1 June 1943. On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, in pencil, with regimental
number, censored by Lt. D C McAulay AASC, marked 109 on outside.
Dearest Marjorie, Last night I wrote you a long letter in answer to a question
you have asked me repeatedly. I hope you will understand my feelings -- it's
only once in a while I get like that but I just had to ramble on until, at last I
found that it was bed time and I had to finish rather abruptly. One of these
days I'll tell you another side of the story, a much more thrilling tale. That's if
you would like me to.
Everything is much the same here, nothing ever happens to us. Pross is out
on a working party today and I have been to the dentist. The filling in one of
my front teeth is worn down but the DO said it was advisable not to touch it as
part of the tooth would have to be sacrificed to put in a new filling.
(N B The letter referred to went by ordinary mail).
No mail for us again, I told you it had been sent to more distant fields in error.
By this time Joe will be well on the way back -- understand that the party left
yesterday afternoon, so probably, Joe will give me all the last-minute news
before your letters arrive.
I have to go out on the job now, will continue later.
Later:. It looked like a certain trip to town but the other guy went instead. My
job was to water the dusty road. You remember when we used to take a tour
around Sydney and sometimes I would grab hold of you and sling you aside,
yelling for you to look out for the water? Then a bloke perched high, driving a
big truck would come swishing by pumping gallons of water. Everybody had a
bad name for him didn't they.
Well the truck I used wasn't nearly as big and the water just oozes out of taps
at the rear. Nobody cursed me, they simply looked on in amazement
wondering I suppose why the meat house is situated on the dusty road. (I was
laying the dust to keep it off the meat presumably), which is not at all
interesting but at least it fills up a little bit of space.
The main object of this letter as you will have gathered by now is not to report
anything of startling importance but merely to say "Hello, my sweetheart",
once more and to ask how you are? Also let you know I am well. Pross is too .
Say “Hello” to your folks and when you go down to 22 Wolsely St. tell Mother
we’re getting along fine – I still miss her apple pie.
Goodbye for the present dearest and remember we've got a date. Kisses and
love and a good old time hug. Always yours, George.
142
3 June 1943. On quarto writing pad in pencil, with regimental number, rank,
name and unit, Censor : Lt. D C McAulay AASC
My darling Marjorie, The first letter I've had from you in several days arrived
yesterday. It seemed a big gap but as far as I can make out only one has
gone astray. That would be the one you wrote on May 27 or thereabouts, and
that should turn up eventually.
Anyhow number 79 is here, (May 29) and it gives me something to answer.
You mentioned you were feeling a bit down in the dumps for awhile. What
was the matter, old girl? Not thinking about the leave we haven't had yet? You
don't want to let that worry you – we’ll get it one of these days and then "Oh
boy!! Oh boy! – I'm looking forward to seeing the picture of you in your new
bonnet. I'll bet "it's a little beauty". About me not liking your taste in hats –
you're wrong. Once I remarked to Olive Snowdon that her hats were as funny
as those that Diana Wignand wore and she was so thrilled she went around
telling everyone what I'd said. About that time, I found a cartoon in "Colliers"
which showed one cove with hands on knees screaming his head off at the
hats a couple of smart young things were wearing. In the distance was
another bloke, beckoning him to come and see a couple more. The first cove
was saying "Hang on, Bill, I haven't finished laughing at these yet". When
Olive saw the cartoon she said, "I don't see anything to laugh at. Those hats
are very smart" – which proved that her sense of humour was sadly lacking.
We've had our share of grey days up here too, but not much rain. Joe was a
bit unlucky to strike Sydney in the wet spell – still, wet or fine it would be good
to me.
You'd better be sure and make the little dress a pink one – isn't it pink for girls
and blue for boys. Did you tell Betty about the bet?
Saturday June 5: I didn't finish this letter on Thursday as it was payday and I
went out in the evening to separate myself from my dough. Made up my mind
to get it away yesterday but we had a rest day and in the morning we had to
attend a showing of the Security film "Next of Kin" which you may have seen
in Sydney. Will try to make up a little leeway darling, by posting this airmail.
In the meantime, the missing 78 has turned up and also another letter number
80. Looks like I've got to write flat out to catch up, doesn't it.
I gave "Dina" four of those snaps you sent and think that's all he wants. Don't
forget to keep a set for our album will you, darling.
At the moment three of the boys are trying to make a "Mills brothers"
combination and it's terrible and interfering with my letter writing.
Thank your Mum and Dad for their kind thoughts of me – I'm afraid that the
sugar is going to get a terrific hiding when I come home. That's because the
army supply of sugar is usually pretty poor and you know what a "sweet-tooth"
yours truly is. Suppose the gas bill is much less too – I always had a 4 inch
143
bath "(4 inches from the top)".
Of course, I sent your love to Mitch, Hughie and Trevor.As a matter-of-fact
they have a very glowing picture of some good old-fashioned reunions so
you'd better make ‘em extra special – that's "when apples grow again".
I’ll close now sweetheart and promise you an extra long letter next time.
Goodbye darling and keep the old chin up. Love and kisses, Always Yours
George.
***
5 June 1943. On quarto writing pad in pencil, with regimental number, rank,
name and unit. Not censored.
My dearest Marjorie,I had intended to answer each of your letters separately
but another came today (Number 81) I think I'd better answer the whole lot in
one go or things will be getting a bit complicated. However it's best for me to
take them step-by-step so that none of your remarks are overlooked.
Number 78 (the letter which did a little tour before reaching me) is before me
and there is a small matter about a yen you have for those "Nortoft" nights to
be repeated. Your picture of firelight glow, soft music, two wine glasses and
two people very much in love, touches something very tender in the old ticker.
How can I add anything to make the scene complete? Memories are sweet
aren’t they and we’ll never forget those lovely times – not even the smallest
details. With all its faults, our little flat has a lot of fond rememberances,
sweetheart, doesn't it?
I was surprised to hear that the ‘frig has been playing up, but I seem to recall
that NST told me that most of the trouble they had to deal with was located in
the thermostat. That's the gadget which switches the motor on and off. You
were wise to get a NST servicemen on the job as they probably know more
about those little peculiarities than the free lances of the refrigeration "racket"
(“Racket” is right, don't you think?).
I'd love to see your new frock and the blue jacket and I bet you'll "lay ‘em in
the aisles" when they see you. Why don't you take a trip to town with Mom
and Pop to see a show and give them an airing. If you wait for me, the moths
may have a party.
Which brings me up to the first paragraph in your letter numbered 80 and the
question of leave. I haven't the slightest idea when my turn will come as it will
depend on the draw – you’ll know as soon as I hop into the train though,. This
afternoon we drew for the second batch and our luck was out. Both Pross and
I drew blanks. We had agreed that if only one brother pulled out a lucky
number he would stand down and forfeit his place until the other got his. But
this idea is really not satisfactory to us and we’ll probably wipe it next time.
You see this time I had first draw and missed which meant that Pross was
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automatically wiped even if he had picked a winner. He would have had to
wait until I could click and I may be unlucky enough to be the last one on the
list. We decided, afterwards, to take our leave as it came out of the hat and
avoid all complications. So our only chance of getting home together will be a
miracle, that is, both of us drawing winning numbers in the same lottery.
You may not be able to understand what I'm trying to explain but take it from
me, we considered the position from every angle and unless the business is
drawn in groups the odds are slightly greater against us. It would be foolish for
one of us to miss out especially when one of us is married, don't you agree?
Now listen here, pal, you'd better lay off Poppa Wehr's sherry or you’ll be
getting skewify and those headaches are simply turrible. There's really no
need to tell you that, I know – and so do you, don't you, my little honey bunch.
Now I'm up to letter number 81 dated in error May 2. By all accounts Sydney
weather and temperature is definately wintery. You’ll be surprised to know
that we're getting the same kind up here, too, and I’d much rather have my
darling to keep me warm than all the extra blankets. But since that's
impossible I'm thankful for a little extra covering.
Things are very much the same as when I last wrote and if something doesn't
happen pretty soon, we'll all be "troppo".
When you see the old count tell him that he must let that ginger beer brew
before it's any good. He'd better stow it away and give you the key to the
padlock.
Dear, dear, fancy spending the afternoon at Roslyn's place ,darling. It must've
been too too divine, aim shoor. How is the little brat anyhow? Has she still got
the marcel wave in her voice? They seem to have a rather attractive home
with lots of "my" trees growing around the place. By the way I got the piece of
pine and it certainly looks healthy
Do you think I could make a date with Em Wilson? We could make whoopee
over at Luna Park in the Lover’s Cave or perhaps Fairy Bower?
Norma seems to be on the sick list still. You mentioned a hospital. Which one
is she attending? Hope there's nothing seriously wrong with her.
Joe hasn't arrived back yet but Brian Bradshaw and another cove checked in
yesterday. Joe should get here tomorrow and then we'll have all the news by
word-of-mouth.
Pross sends his love and the old Col asks me to give you his very very
sincerest regards. All the past is forgotten and he often comes around to see
me to have a long talk. He suggests that the four of us have a night out if we
get leave at the same time. I'm afraid that there won't be enough time
especially if we go away for a holiday – will there?
145
Must leave you now, darling to catch the mail. I'll deliver all kisses I have sent
one of these days so just keep a note of them. My love and a big hug from
your, George. PS. I don't dream very much – most of mine are daydreams.
Love to all. G
***
8 June 1943. Quarto sized writing pad in pencil with regimental number, rank,
name and unit. Not censored, and apparently delivered or posted outside the
censorship system.
Marjorie Sweetheart, I am writing this note outside an RAP tent some miles
from camp and I've just finished lunch. The second batch to go on leave
board the train tonight and I want one of them to post this for me so I want to
have it ready by the time we return to camp tonight.
We are out on a working party today, unloading timber and iron stakes.
Actually the work is not terribly hard but we’re kept going all the time. The
timber is big stuff and most of it is moved with crowbars. Quite a lot of the
boys volunteer to do this type of work because it gets them away from the dull
routine of camp life, route marches and having to line up every time a whistle
blows. Joe has told you about the place so there’s not much point in me going
over it again. Nothing further has happened since I told you that the trucks
were almost taken from us. Whether they will go with us now is in the lap of
the gods. It seems certain that we are going somewhere as we are being held
at staging camp. As a matter of fact it was announced that we have been
allotted a particular job but where or when only the big shots know. It would
be foolish for me to tell you if I knew because the information might be
intercepted somewhere. If at any time you can gather from my letters where I
am keep it to yourself. Don't tell anyone not even your family, because a
chance remark might let someone know where we are and that would in turn
reveal the position of a brigade.
As far as we can make out we were going across on the Centaur and it seems
that the unseen hand is protecting us. Don't let anything of what I'm saying
alarm you, because it is extremely unlikely that we’ll strike trouble for a long
time. Most of the ships which leave from here go in convoy with aerial support
and it would be too expensive for the Japs to try to raid them. All around us
can be seen signs of growing strength so if they ever come near us they'll get
a hell of a reception.
I don't know what I got on to that line of talk for because that side of the
business was farthest from my thoughts. The purpose of this letter is to let you
know that leave is still on and no matter where we are or where we go it will
continue until the whole unit has had its leave. Good news, isn't it.
There are a lot of things I would like to say to you in my letters, darling and I
can see that you feel the same way sometimes. But I hate to think of the
censor reading those sacred thoughts and perhaps laughing about them. One
146
time I had one officer reading out somebody's letter to another officer and I
felt like socking him fair on the chin. Of course you can't do anything about it
but if ever I’m caught posting a letter outside I’ll bring that little incident up. By
the way don't repeat any of the stuff back as incoming letters are liable to be
censored too. So far they haven't been, though
In one of your letters, sweetheart, you described the familiar little scene at
"Nortoft" in front of the gas fire and you asked me if I could add anything to
make it more complete. Of course I could, as I would only have to put my
thoughts down on paper – what you were thinking of when you wrote that is
exactly what I thought when I read those lines. Stop me if I'm wrong.
You were thinking of how we used to lie on the carpet with cushions under our
heads and how we would hold each other close (I'm starting to get that old
feeling just thinking about it). You would be wearing your pink dressing gown,
a pair of scanties, brassiere and that's all. I was always anxious to pull back
your gown to have a look at you in the dim light, wasn’t I? Remember how I
used to kiss you all over, and tell you I loved every little part of your body and
soul. Our hearts beated faster in those moments didn’t they and we felt like
having each other. Then I would slip my arm around your waist and take hold
of the elastic in your pants and slip them gently over your lovely thighs. You
would lay there for a minute fully revealed and then raise yourself slightly to
put your arms about my neck and pull me over on top of you. I can feel the
sensations now and I need you to satisfy my desires- often I lay on my
stretcher thinking what heaven it would be if we were together having each
other. But I can wait. Strange to say, but its true. When I’m near an
attractive woman, a thought might come into my mind that I’d like to do her
but I never get to the stage where I’m ready for the job even if it was on. Get
me. Something stops me- the thought of YOU.
When leave comes my way I'll be rushing home as fast as I can and give you
all the loving you want – and you'll make it extra good I know. About that note
on the side of your last letter "How about an extra special". If that means what
I think it does, listen here baby, I'll give you such an extra special bit, you'll cry
for another one.
Please don't think that I've gone back to the stone age sweetheart but the
chance to speak intimately with you is so rare that I must make the most of it.
Now, dear, I am back in camp and it's getting dark. I must finish here and
make arrangements for the posting of this letter. So goodbye, my biggest thrill,
darling sweetheart and most adorable loving wife, all the love in my body and
soul is yours. Faithfully your own, George
NB: It's too dark to read the last part of this letter over – hope it's all right with
you
Received letter with 10 shillings – will answer that later.
***
8 June 1943. Airmail Lettercard in pencil with regimental number, rank, name
and unit. Censor Lt V B Shiner NX111015.
147
Marjorie Darling, Thanks for your little note of June 4 and for the 10 shilling
note enclosed. All my birthdays come at once – a couple of days ago I
received a five bob canteen order from the Drummoyne Patriotic Fund. As it
happened I'm at a pretty lean period having had two very heavy days (on the
purse) within a fortnight. However, I would have recovered by next payday so
I'm going to say you shouldn't throw your money around like that as I only
waste it. You are a darling, always thinking of me and wondering if I've got
enough dough to buy a juicy grill.
You asked whether you should send soap and toothpaste in your parcels to
me. Sometimes we are issued with soap and boot polish and toothpaste is
usually obtainable at the canteen for about a penny less than what you can
buy it for. So there is not much point in sending that sort of thing. Cakes are
about your best bet and sweets – boiled lollies or something hard and acidy
are really most suitable.
Remember I read you a story and later told you there was another side to it.
When you read both, let me know which one you liked best, won’t you?
Marj dear, I scribbled a card to Mother yesterday but I forgot to mention
anything about her birthday on June 3. Pross and I sent her a telegram which
should have reached her on time so when you go down just ask her if she
received it and give her a big kiss for us.
Last Friday we had a rest day and after viewing the Security film entitled "
Next of Kin" (see Mother's letter) we had lunch and jumped aboard a boat and
went for a trip to the island. It's a lovely place but next time we’ll start out
earlier and have a better look around. There is a hotel handy and a good
supply of beer. When we had polished off half a dozen or so it was time to
return. Coming back we sang to the waves and had a great time. In town, we
had fish and grilled steak for which we forgot to pay. I followed this up with a
milkshake with ice cream also on the house. Altogether it was a very
successful day and I don't feel a bit ashamed about putting one over these
cafe people. They only make about £50 or £60 a week out of the troops.
Glad to hear you are all well – give my fondest love to everyone. I do love you
more than ever – and more if that's possible. Until my next letter goodbye
sweetheart and to misquote an old saying "I'd rather have you in my arms
than in my dreams".
Yours Always, George.
P.S. If I asked you what was the most outstanding incident in your life what
would you say?
***
9 June, 1943. On airmail Lettercard in pencil with regimental number, rank,
name and unit censored by Lt. V B Shiner NX111015.
Dearest Marjorie, Your letter written last Saturday afternoon reached me
148
yesterday and it brought back memories of other Saturdays when Dad would
want us to go to Five Dock and we had other ideas. He couldn't make out why
we wanted to pass up a good time like that could he?
First let me tell you I'm well, except for a bit of cold which is already clearing.
Pross is OK too. We each received a cake from Mother last night so our
tummies are not doing too badly either. We've been off the "labour squads"
for a couple of days and have been doing the hike instead. I haven't made up
my mind yet which is the most tiring.
I asked Joe if he liked the way you did your hair and he said it was very nice.
Said he told you the photograph I have doesn't do you justice. So there you
are – you'll have to hurry up and get another one done. Have a couple of
shots done by a street photographer when you're in town and pick out the
best. They are usually pretty anxious to get a customer.
Listen, old dear I think you’re fishing for compliments about your figure and if I
say any more you might get a swelled head so I'll let it go. How is my honey
chile Norm? Has she still got those "come-over-here or I'll-come-over-and-get
you" curves? You said she had received her "call-up" but I should imagine her
job would be exempt. What has she decided to do? Tell her I said not to panic
– it's not necessary to be in uniform to beat Tojo. Most of the girls I know are
thrilled to the back teeth to be in the auxilliary services but I'm hanged if I can
see the point in them giving up their essential jobs which have to be taken
over and learned by another girl.
Have they found the bobby pin that Anne swallowed? It would be a terrible
thing if they had to operate on her for it but more than likely it will pass right
through her. If the prong ends are to the rear – I mean if the bend is the
leading part – there isn’t much to worry about. Fortunately bobby pins are not
very pointed are they? Let me know what happens immediately won't you?.
Liz always gets a little scared towards the end doesn't she – this time
shouldn't worry her at all. Bill would scream if he heard her talk, I'm sure.
It would give me a pain to have to go out to Bells Avenue very often – why
don't you go up to the local show with Bruce and Norma on Saturday nights
sometimes. They shouldn't mind as they usually go straight home afterwards
and you wouldn't be in their way.
The pad and magazines arrived safely darling and that will do me for quite a
time. Thanks for going to all that bother about it.
Goodbye once again. All my love and kisses darling wife from your, George
PS. How is the boat shed?
***
11 June 1943. On airmail Lettercard in pencil with regimental number, rank,
name and unit; Censor Lt. V B Shiner.
My darling Marjorie, This is just a ”quickie" to say hello and goodbye before I
149
go into town for my rest day – and to let you know your letter of June 8 came
yesterday. I'll have to answer Norma's of June 7, tomorrow.
Glad to hear my short novel cheered you a little – that's not my best ever by
any means. One of these days I'll really settle down and tell you a much more
interesting story of the little girl next door but one.
Your letters are coming through all right now, dear, and I suppose, if the
service doesn't get any worse than has been in the past we’ll be extremely
lucky.
Bill Rowse has had an unusual experience hasn't he. First against the Japs as
a civilian, then as a soldier and now as an airman. I met an ex-NGVR man the
other day who knew Bill, – not personally but he'd heard about the trip from
Rabaul.
Hope that little Anne has got rid of that bobby pin – it must be a very worrying
time for everyone. I had to laugh when I read that she is always saying
something about having to get her neck cut open to get it. She still seems to
be thejoy of Auntie Marjorie's life.
How is the supply of coupons? We’ll be issued with our new books within the
next day or so and I’ll probably send them on to you to make up for the ones
you have had to use up on me.
Yesterday the Commissioner of Taxation sent me a nice little bill for £33
which he hasn't the slightest chance in the world of collecting. The amount is
based on income earned during 1941 – 42 – I was civilian for half that year
and of course the method of arriving at what I should pay is ridiculous. I'll write
and tell them they can't get blood out of a stone. I haven't banking account
and haven't any assets except household furniture.
Went to the pictures on Wednesday night and saw "Private Buckaroo" with
Andrews sisters. Not a bad show with some of the latest hit tunes "Three Little
Sisters" etc. The other supporting feature was "Between us Girls" with Diana
Barrymore – and lady that baby sure has a fig-u-are. She's the daughter of
one of the great Barrymore's isn't she?
Now darling I’d better go or I'll miss the best part of the day in town.
Everything is hunky-dory and we’re getting closer to that leave everyday, so
until my next session, goodbye and keep the old Esse burning. For you I send
ze kiss and ze hug and also some for ze familee. George. PS. I LOVE YOU.
***
12 June 1943. On Airmail mail Lettercard with penny stamp, showing
regimental number, rank, name and unit. Censor stamp on face of card.
My Darling Marjorie, Just received your letter of June 9 and I'll try to answer it
150
before the light fades. Tonight we’ll be without the electric light and I may not
have any spare time in the morning for writing before the mail is taken for
censoring
Yesterday with Pross, Bill and a couple of others tried to repeat the
programme of the previous rest day but we failed and had a pretty ordinary
time. I was into town independently about 11 AM and met the party in the
canteen where there was a mad rush for beer tickets. We had a few then a
fish lunch and down to the wharf for the boat trip. We were early and had to
wait three quarters of an hour for her to pull out and when she did there were
passengers draped everywhere. Half way across the rain began to drizzle.
There was a mild scurry for shelter but only a few could go below deck.
However we didn't get very wet and when the old tub berthed we made a dive
for the verandah of the hotel on the island. Much to everyone's dismay the
beer hadn't arrived and the only thing to do was to wait for the boat to return
for us. Had afternoon tea for which we payed in the neck. Back to the
mainland at 6 o'clock and from there we went our various ways. I had a date
with the newspapers and magazines in the YMCA – the others went to the
pictures. Return to camp at 10 PM very tired, probably after-effects of the
stimulant. So ended another rest day. If there’s any sunshine around next
week I'll take my trunks down to the beach and have a day in the sun for a
change.
I think both "John Doe" and "Pride of Yankees" has been screened here and
they’re two good shows by all reports.
It's good to hear the Mother is well again. Pross received six letters yesterday
but I haven't seen any of them yet – sometimes he forgets to show me them, I
think.
How does the new kitten get on with Winnie or has he gone to Valhalla?
Around this camp there are cats and dogs of all shapes ages and sizes. A
black-and-white kelpie now called Sheila has attached herself to the unit and
whether she’ll be taken on strength remains to be seen. I hope she is.
Sorry there's no news of interest to relate but that's the way in the Army. Give
my love to all the families when you see them. Next time I'll use the new
writing pad you sent. Until then sweetheart, goodbye, with all my love and
kisses. From your loving husband, George.
PS. Your query re leave is answered in previous letter. G
***
151
14 June 1943. On Airmail Lettercard with penny stamp in pencil with
regimental number [ with NX underlined], rank, name and unit external censor
stamp by Lt Victor B Shiner. [The underlining of the NX was the
implementation of the arrangement foreshadowed in George’s letter of 7
April 1943 and mentioned in letters dated 23 April and 2 May 1943; on this
occasion it accurately represented departure from Australia.]
152
My darling Marjorie, Your much looked for letter didn't arrive today but maybe
I’ll get it tomorrow. Sunday always seems to throw us back a day doesn't it.
How are you sweetheart and how is everyone at home? I suppose you are all
rugged up and sitting over the fire in the evenings. You used to like the winter
in the old days – remember when we curled up in front of the gas fire at
Nortoft and had beer and cheese for supper. Those "Brown Bombers" I used
to try to make weren’t much of a success were they? – Still I got a lot of fun
trying. "Bobs" must have reached the end of her tether when she thought up
that one.
153
I ‘ve been thinking about Anne ever since you told me about her swallowing
the pin – and wondering whether she is all right. It's marvellous what people
have swallowed and not been affected by, but there is always the doubt that
something might go wrong? Isn't there?
Tell Norma I haven't forgotten about her letter but we have been a bit upset
lately and facilities for writing are very poor – no lights and very little to write
about. As soon as I can see I'll drop her a note.
Pross is well – so am I. That's the health report for today – never varies does
it? Mother needn't worry about her baby getting thin. I think he's putting on
weight if anything.
Must go now dear as I hear the call to coffee and there's nothing to say
anyway.
Keep the old chin up and don't let the old war worry you too much. Love to all
at home. Goodbye sweetheart darling with love and kisses from,
Your loving husband, George.
***
17- 20 June 1943. Numbered 1. In pencil on standard writing pad. No censor marking.
This letter appears to have been written between embarkation on the HMAT
Duntroon on 16 June 1943 and arrival in Port Moresby on 20 June 1943, the date
shown on George’s AIF service and casualty form entries. The commencement of a
new numbering was almost certainly another implementation of a prearranged signal
that George had left Australia.
My Darling Marjorie, I expect you have been wondering why you haven't received a
reply to your three letters of June 11, 12 and – (number 87) – or perhaps you have
guessed. As soon as I can I will give you the full story but the main thing to let you
know, at the moment, is that leave goes on and our date around about Christmas time
still holds. (Incidentally, your letters came yesterday).
How is little Anne ? It was wise of Doctor Brown to have sent her to Balmain
Hospital for observation – I hope that an operation wasn't necessary. I can imagine
what a worrying time it would be for Betty in her condition – and for all of you for
that matter. Do you remember how we used to nearly chuck a doubler when Anne
was putting things in her mouth and Bet would laugh and say that she wouldn't
swallow them.
We both seem to have the same trouble with writing and both could be very much
happier on the old lounge talking things over, (as you said) instead of scratching out a
few words and leaving unsaid the things that are most important. Never mind, darling
we can make up for it when our day comes. And talking about eggs and butter being
scarce – hanged if I know where they go to. Definitely not to the 9th Fld Amb.
Perhaps the Yanks are feeding their faces as usual. When they order anything they
usually order up big. One grill steak doesn't seem to be sufficient for them. They want
154
two or three – and when they buy a soft drink at least half-a-dozen ice creams in it
seems to be the general thing for them. A lot of them are like overgrown kids with too
much money to spend.
June 18 I have plenty of time on my hands so this letter will be written in spasms.
Seems my letters are medicine for the blues to you – it's a pity I can't space them out,
so that you get them one at a time but that's impossible and I suppose they'll be
banking up worse than ever now. You'll have to set aside an evening for reading. By
the way I’ve starting numbering so that you can check up and see if any go astray.
Bruce and Norma sure are doing the rounds lately, weddings, theatre parties etc. You
betcha I'll take you to the Minerva if you want to go – just say the word and it’s
settled. We're going to do a lot of things in that 24 days and since you’ll know more
about what's going on, I think you should arrange the programme, darling – I've
always wanted you to do that little thing.
Yesterday I asked Bill Peters27 what we could say and what we couldn't say in our
letters and by the time he had finished telling me I decided that writing was going to
be very difficult in the near future. Bill said the best thing to write about is the little
incidents that happen among the boys. Unfortunately some of those things are
unprintable but I'll tell you one thing that brought a smile to my face some time ago.
Col and I had an ambulance full of discharged patients and we were all in a hurry to
get back to our units – except one bloke. Col was hitting up the pace and this bloke in
the back yelled out, "Hey, mate can you go any faster?"
"No! I've got her flat to the boards now." Col yelled back.
"Thank Christ for that." came the relieved voice from the back. (Note that the words
used are quoted)
I'm still waiting for that photograph you promised me – if the ones Bruce takes are no
good why don't you go into a photographers and have it done dear? You weren't
satisfied with the shot those other "houns" did so next time pick a reliable firm.
I notice you agreed it's best not to wait for Pross to get leave. He may be more lucky
than I and you'll be seeing him first.
Now I've got to your letter number 87 in reply to mine of June 8. Glad you didn't
forget the little bits about Nortoft – I didn't think you would. They were the good old
days weren’t they – but they'll come again.
Your remarks about cold feet make me feel homesick dear – of course I remember
them.They wouldn't be so bad on some of the nights we’ve had up here.
June 19 Another day has passed and I'm feeling extra well – always do at times like
this. This afternoon we had a boxing tournament among the lads and they put up a
good show. Every bout finished up in a friendly spirit and there were no hard feelings
over it.
Yesterday everybody received a parcel from the ACF containing soap, shaving soap,
writing paper, mint chews, sox and a GIF etc which wasn't bad. The sox were too
small for me so I swapped for a tube of Pepsodent toothpaste. Tomorrow I'll give my
155
teeth the "tongue test" since my tube of Colgate's is finished. Can you imagine what
Mr Moran would say if he knew I'd switched to Pepsodent.
The food we have been getting is really very good – except the stew which was not
very palatable. Sometimes there is salad with Feltz (?) sausage and spuds – stew
sausages, saveloys, meat and fresh vegetables, sweets once-a-day and tonight for tea I
had two apples (extra good after months of being without same). Also some
marmalade came to light after all these years. There’s not too much of anything but
perhaps that is just as well.
Joe has settled down to Army life again and now he has had time to think things over
he often comes along and has a yarn about his visits to home. He seems very pleased
with himself as a daddy – he recommends the status to all the married men.
My eyes are just about closed, darling so I think I'll finish here for the night and go to
bed. Good night, presh.
June 20 it's Sunday morning – I know because the calendar you sent me says so – it's
very handy. Nothing much doing – Pross and I are well.
June 21 Mail is due this afternoon and I'll bet there’ll be a few for me. I'll be able to
save up some money now – things are much cheaper. Pross and I are flat broke today
but I managed to borrow 1 / 3 and tuppence halfpenny respectively. And with that we
purchased 2 oz. of tobacco and two bottles of lemonade. We get three weeks pay on
Thursday. I believe then we'll be millionaires.
Mess parade has just been called Darling, so I'll go and grab some tucker. Look after
yourself and don't worry about us – we’re safer than if we were crossing George
Street on a busy Friday night. Love and kisses – dearest girl in the world from, Yours
Always, George
PS. Give my love to all at home. PPS. Still think a repetition of the good time we had
at Austinmer would be a good idea.
***
22 June 1943. Numbered 2. In pencil on letter card with penny stamp, bearing
regimental number, name rank and unit, marked as passed by Censor, probably Capt
A.S Henderson NX122033. In this and following letters, George is writing from what
now is known to be the Rigo Road MDS for the 9th FA about 12 miles outside Port
Moresby.
My Darling Marjorie, Today I got your two letters 88 and 89, and lady, was I
pleased to hear from you? Probably you won't be so lucky and you'll have to wait for
some time but you can depend on me writing as often as possible.
I am anxiously waiting to hear that Anne is all right – poor kid she would miss her
mother and you very much. I thought she would act when the novelty of the hospital
wore off.
Roslyn is becoming quite a regular visitor isn't she? What's the idea – does she get
lonely up in her country house?
Young Alan seems to have got his home leave extra quickly –these single coves get
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all the breaks evidently, not that I begrudge anyone being so lucky – Hope he had a
good time and I'm glad to hear the army is putting some weight on him. Can't say the
same thing for myself, although I'm feeling fine. Pross is heavier but I don't think it's
surplus fat – he doesn't eat any more than I do. It must be the fish or something like
that. He is stationed at a place a few miles from here but as soon as things are
straightened out I'll be with him. We’ve asked to be put on the same truck and have
been told that it will be O.K.
Last night we went to the pictures at the AGH. The features were "Strange Faces" and
a pre-release of “The Amazing Mrs Halliday" with Deanna Durbin. In addition there
were two cartoons and a newsreel. If we'd paid 6/6 we couldn't have seen a better
show. "Strange Faces" is a racy newspaper story with a couple of murders and plenty
of comedy. Deanna Durbin in the grown-up role turns in a good show as Mrs Halliday.
There is a good deal of sloppy sentimentality in the story but it's good entertainment
and I'm sure you would enjoy it. Arthur T???? is the butler and two lesser lights as
Commodore and bosun supply some fun which makes the picture. Go and see it when
it comes to Sydney, darling. You'll enjoy the sequence where Deanna tries for about
three minutes to shovel a cherry on to her spoon.
I haven't written to the Taxation Department yet but it's best for me to handle it
myself. I'll ask them to make up my salary so that I can pay tax and live like they do
themselves.
My coupons are not much good here so you will be getting them before long. My half
dozen pairs of socks are in good condition so don't bother to send any just yet.
Can't give you much news at present. Will tell you more later when I answer your
number 89 letter. Had an air raid alert last night but nothing happened. Bill seems to
be copping the lot. Give my love to Mother and everybody – I’ll write in a day or so.
All my love and kisses dearest, Always Your, Me PS. Regards Max Lipman's remarks
– he’s right.
***
23 June 1943. Numbered 3. In pencil on lined writing pad, bearing regimental
number, name rank and unit, Censor’s signature Capt. JJ Cuff, NX111013.
My dearest Marjorie, The mess shelter is full of green-clad soldiers tonight – all
scribbling away answering their mail. It's a mild sort of night, few clouds overhead so
I suppose it will shower before long – it rains often here in spite of the fact that this
time of the year is considered the dry season.
On my right is Colin Bell and he asks me to send you his best regards. Further along
the long roughly constructed mess table is the good old radio which at the moment is
bringing a program on shortwave from Francisco. Saturday nights broadcasts are
cracker-jack's – Bob Hope, Veronica Lake, Paulette Goddard were on one night and
they are nearly as good as looking at a movie. We’ll have to get a short-wave set
when we set up house again.
The roof of the shelter is thatched with a kind of Pampas Grass, fairly sharp reedy
stuff. The natives make a wonderful job of this thatching, the framework, I believe
was constructed by our engineers but the natives can do that part of it too without the
157
use of set squares etc, I'm told. They are a funny looking bunch, seem to be a heavy
black with a tint of dark blue to make them darker. Some of them wear earrings and
flowers in their hair. These boys with flowers in their bristles are the unmarried ones
probably like peacocks out to catch the unwary female. They go in for vivid reds for
skirts. One of our coves bailed up a little chap carrying an armful of pineapples. He
was a loss to know what to say to find out the price and he scratched around for a few
minutes looking for an interpreter. At last in desperation he asked, "How much?" And
in a very distinct English voice the boy replied "Sixpence each." Don't gather from
that story that pineapples are plentiful – As far as I can make out there are more of
them in Sydney in the off-season.
So that you won't get any false impressions about my safety – I will let you know that
we couldn't be in a much safer place. Except for an occasional air-raid which is
usually ineffective (I'm told) we’ve got nothing to disturb our slumbers.
The (deleted by Censor) caused no panic apart from the fact that it's awkward to rig
up a mozzie net in a tent without a light. By the way there's an electric light plant set
up and we’re writing in comfort. We are planning to run the power into every tent and
when that is operating I'll say this is soldiering-de-luxe.
Even the anophelene mosquito is well under control and provided all pre-cautions are
taken nobody need worry about malaria. About the surrounding country I can say that
it is comparable to the Blue mountains with higher peaks and steeper climb. The trees
are a particular type of eucalypt, broader leaves than the blue gum and not so spindly.
Water is fairly plentiful and is pumped up from a small river. Of course it has to be
chlorinated for safety's sake but I'm used to that after all these months. More about the
joint in later letters.
Now I'm going to answer your letter number 89 written on June 18 and received this
morning. There's nothing wrong with that service is there? Incidentally you would
need to use only 3d stamps on your letters now I understand but you had better check
up with the Post Office.
I asked about Anne in my air-mail letter card yesterday but I can see she is causing
you a lot of anxiety, darling. Don't upset yourself – she'll be looked after and I'm sure
she'll be all right. How is the Health and Beauty class going – you'd better take a
course of Ju-Jitsu if you girls go walking about those semi-blacked out streets at
night. You’d better wait for the tram or one of those looneys may scare you, or you
might get knocked down by a car, crossing the bridge.
So Sugar-Pie is back to the grindstone – you didn't tell me how she fared but I
suppose she'll give me the details in her next letter. Glad to hear she is feeling well
again.
You need have no fears about me getting fat. Army food will take care of that – not
hard work. If only I had a nice cow things would be different – instead I have to do
my best with a tin-opener. How are Dad and Mum? Do they still have a little verbal
box-on as to whether the flue of the Sunray should be open or half closed? Tell them
I'm always thinking of them and hoping they will come out on top. Fondest love to
them and Norma and all the rest of the family. Darling it is not possible to put into
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words how much I love you but I know you know so I'll just say love and kisses from,
Your Own, Me
PS. Friday's were always happy days for us weren’t they? Hope its not long before we
are enjoying them again. Love G
***
June 24, 1943. Numbered 4. In ink on lined writing pad paper, bearing regimental
number, name rank and unit, no censor marking.
My dearest Marjorie. Tonight I'm writing from an RAP by the light of a hurricane
lamp. It's comfortable here with all "mod. cons.", such as tables, chairs and
duckboards for the floor. Water is laid on and not far away is an open air shower. A
short while ago I walked over to the small canteen and got me four ounces of tobacco,
cigarette papers, two bob's worth of stamps and five packets of steamrollers – that lot
cost me five shillings. That's just to show you I ain't starvin! Could have purchased
peaches and cream too but I'm saving that luxury for some other time as my tummy is
full.
Pross called in today and said his billets are good too. He’s up in the rough country
and is seeing a bit of the life as lived by the locals. I hope to be going up there with
him before very long. One drawback is that the mails are slower as they have to wait
for the truck to go back to the M. D.S which is nearby where I'm stationed at the
moment.
I am beginning to get the lay of the land now that I've had a few trips around and it is
very much like other places we've seen during the last six months. In fact it is much
better in many ways as we are much better catered for as far as comforts are
concerned. Of course all the food comes out of tins but that's nothing new to us. I'll be
able to give you a much better idea of the place in about a month's time.
While I think of it, darling, next time you write send me the size of your finger. I'm
going to have a shot at making you a souvenir ring, like a lot of the lads are doing in
their spare moments. All you have to do is press one of your rings against the paper
and trace it with a pencil or cut a hole in a piece of paper. I’ve started the job already
but it may not be the right size as it is now.
Your letter dated Sunday morning June 20 reached me this morning – four days is the
record from Sydney, which is fast isn't it. Postal regulations say that the sender’s
address must be shown so it would be advisable to include it each time,– especially as
incoming mail is liable to be censored. So far none of your letters have been opened
but a couple Pross got had been opened.
I am very concerned to hear that Anne still has that bobby pin in her tummy. It's bad
luck to have such a thing trouble you all at this stage of the Thummler event. Poor
little kid, she must miss you terribly. Perhaps there is still a chance for it to pass
through and an operation won’t be necessary. I rush to each letter that comes hoping
to read that all is well.
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Give Betty my love and tell her how I feel for her – I wish I could do something to
comfort her.
Your dreams about me coming home on leave soon are a bit optimistic, I think
Darling, but the day will come so we’ll keep living in hopes that it will not be long.
The guy who parts my hair every morning is sure to telegraph you every five minutes
when he's on the way and it will take more than a week to get home.
How is Auntie Sis? Next time she visits you, let her know I was enquiring about her.
Sorry to hear the regular Monday morning letter failed to arrive and I can imagine you
would be thinking all sorts of things when there was a gap for some days. I did my
best to make up for that by writing a long letter which you should have received by
now.
The army may be a gift to womankind as it certainly must be teaching men to
appreciate their wives more. Washing machine salesman will be doing some heavyweight business when this war is over. How women keep up with it is beyond me. My
clothes get plenty of soap and water but they never look clean and they are beginning
to fray. I'll have to see about a new issue and stick to Lux or Persil and boil them. Is
that a better method?
I'm happy to know you are feeling well, darling, though a little cold. If you had me
you wouldn't need four blankets, a water bottle, and Norma to keep you warm. Or do
you think we should keep Norma, in case it started to snow.
You make me feel homesick when you remind me of the little things you used do. I
had forgotten about the walk on Austinmer Beach but now you mention it I remember
it quite clearly. Well, well isn't it funny what love does, sweetheart. Thanks for those
lovely memories
Everything must come to an end and we’ll pray that this war won't last long. On
present indications it looks as if the, Nips, Huns and Dagoes are soon going to wish
they hadn't started it – especially Musso.
Happy dreams, Princess with all my love and extra specials to be delivered personally
later.
Always your own, Me
PS. Best of everything to Mum, Dad Norma and all the family.
***
26 June 1943. Numbered 5. In pencil on lined writing pad paper, bearing regimental
number, name rank and unit, censored by Lt V B Shiner.
My dearest Marjorie, I'm writing this letter in the ambulance and it's hard to realise
that I'm any farther away from home than before. This place must be a few hundred
feet above sea level and today with a slight breeze blowing, the weather is quite cool.
Later in the day the temperature will rise and the sun breaks through the clouds. It will
be hot and sultry but the nights have been comfortable although not cold enough for
more than one blanket. Pross is at a place much higher up and he tells me they have
two blankets and that it rains practically every day. Wintertime is their dry season so I
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suppose when we get around to summer we’ll be paddling up to our ankles in mud.
The roads are dry and hard now and comparatively speaking, they are good. That
doesn't mean they are anything like Parramatta Road but I've been on worse, which
shows the tremendous amount of work that has been done in this area. Sometimes,
when we’re driving along, we hit a bump or a pothole and bounce up to the roof, or
run along a stretch which shakes the ambulance like a vibrator – that's nothing new to
us. Up in the hills I believe, the going is pretty rough and chains are used all the time
in the rain. (Passage apparently deleted by Censor.)
As far as news of the outside world is concerned we are catered for by a daily
newspaper published by the army. However, reading matter is not plentiful so after
you have finished with your magazines, will you shoot some of them along. The
second class mail service takes a few weeks to get here but that doesn't matter with
magazines.
Canteen supplies are excellent. There is no shortage of tobacco, cigarettes and
comforts parcels are issued from time to time. Have had only the one issue
(mentioned previously) so far but I'm told it's a regular thing. Taking it all round, we
are better off here than we had been for a long time and provided leave is not
interfered with there’s little cause to grumble. Every night there is some sort of
entertainment, mostly picture shows and anyone who is not on duty can go. Already
I've noted a big difference in my expenditure. By the way I'm enclosing 15 coupons
for you – the other 10 I am keeping in case I want them later on
There's been no mail for me in the last couple of days so I should get a letter from you
today when the truck calls.
How are you darling and how is the old morale? Teenie wrote to me the other day and
said that things are much the same as usual. Said that Mary was very pleased to get
my little letter telling her all about our little mascot "Sheila". I must try to rake up
something to write about to Anne. I hope she is well by now and out of hospital.
Pross got a few letters from home in the last mail but I haven't seen them yet. Tell
Mother we are both very fit and looking after ourselves – there's no need for her to get
anxious. Give them our love and the same to your folks. Goodbye for now sweetheart
and as they say "Oceans of love with a kiss in every wave".
Always your own, Me.
PS. Have you heard the story: The Army mule met a Jeep. "What are you?" asked the
mule. "I'm an automobile", replied the Jeep "What are you?" "I'm a horse". (NB. Both
are doing a good job here"
***
27 June 1943. Numbered 6. In pencil on lined writing pad, bearing regimental
number, name rank and unit, censored by Capt. JJ Cuff.
My Darling Marjorie, This morning when I went over to HQ they handed me your
letter written on the 22nd, the first I’ve had for a few days although it was written
only a day after number 90. Your score must be nearly up to the century now as you
missed out numbering a couple and some of your numbers were repeated.
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I can quite understand why you were about a week or more without a letter from me,
darling and, no doubt, by this time you will know the reason yourself. Sorry chief, but
there was nothing I could do about it.
I saw Pross this morning for a few minutes. He showed me a letter from Mother
which is very disturbing to both of us. Mother says that Victor's boy Andre is in a
dangerous condition with peritonitis and the doctors have almost given up hope. What
a terrible blow it would be to poor old Vic if he didn't pull through. Everybody knows
how he idolises all of his kiddies. Do remember how proud he was when the twins
Andre and Jennifer were born? This is the first time I've known of anyone in the
Seagrove family to have appendicitis and we are a pretty big tribe. Probably that's
why Sylvia and Vic didn't suspect anything of that nature and it's hard to diagnose a
baby's trouble.
That news made me think of little Anne, too, Marj and your letter tells me she is still
in the same condition. Seems as if all our anxieties and trials have come at the one
time. Least of all did I expect to have two the healthiest babies in the world be in such
danger while I was away. I pray earnestly for their safety and that their parents may
be comforted.
It's good to hear that Norma is much better and happy, back at her work again. We
started off 1943 in a bad way didn’t we and it seems nothing has gone right since.
Perhaps it won't be long before the clouds roll by and we’ll all be together again in
peace and happiness. The whole world must be looking forward to that time and
surely that must speed the day when the war-makers are tossed out.
I didn't have a chance to see Sue Callan so I'll have to write her a letter and explain
the position to her. And the boys on the other side haven't written to me for a long
time. Even Miss Mac and the Office owe me a letter – which shows what a lousy lot
of correspondents there are on my mailing list. In fact I think I should dice the lot and
put an advertisement in the agony column for pen friends. You are the only one who
never fails – sometimes my little girl friend from Innesfail drops me a line and tells
me how much she loves me but she’s only a kid who likes to hear from a "big bronze
digger" or something. There's not much hope of me ever seeing her again so you need
have no fears of the eternal triangle. I always "pick ‘em young" as you say because
they are not so dangerous and you can’t break their little hearts – not for long anyway.
sooner or later she'll tell me she has met a boyfriend who wants to know why the heck
she writes to me then I shall take a fatherly interest and give them both my blessing.
All of which is nonsense.
Last night two of us went over to another camp to the pictures. The first show was
"Wings of the Eagle" and good entertainment as well as wonderful propaganda for the
munition workers. Some of the snappiest dialogue and wisecracks I’ve heard for a
long time. It's about a guy who gets a job in the Lockheed aircraft factory to avoid the
draft and discovers in the end that he wants to fly ‘em not build ‘em. In one part he
rushes in with his arms full of groceries and flashes his factory badge which says gets
him more credit than Winston Churchill gets Lease-Lend aid. Another time he buys a
watch for his pal's wife and is on his way to give it to her when he spots them on
friendly terms again. Back he goes to the jewellers and asks for a better watch, "one
162
with diamonds". "I got competition", he says, "and the down payment is still only two
dollars". The other picture was "Man Hunt" already being shown in Sydney. In this
Joan Bennett plays the part of the good-bad cockney girl and makes a great job of it,
and that my dear is the end of the talkies review. This is your Hollywood Reporter
saying Goodnight – Oh no, that's not my line is it?
The food here for the last two days has been first class – two feeds of salmon, boiled
pudding and yesterday there were hundreds of things on the menu – yes, baked beans.
I have seen quite a bit of the country today and it was an eye-opener. It is altogether
different to what I expected but for the present I won't say any more. Fondest love to
all the family and lots of extra special kisses to you dearest from your, Me.
PS. I sent 15 coupons yesterday. Don't know if you can use them. In case you have to
state number of card, it's you 43596. Let's know if you require that sent to use them.
PPS. I never get tired of that “I LOVE YOU” you mentioned.
***
29 June 1943. Numbered 6 (also). In pencil on airmail letter card with penny stamp,
bearing regimental number, name rank and unit marked Passed by Censor 107, date
stamped 30 June 1943.
Marjorie Darling, How are you tonight I wonder, and what are you doing? There are
so many questions that I wish could be answered at this moment and a lot more I must
ask, to let you know my thoughts while I'm writing. About Anne? About Andre? And
about the worrying time you are going through? It seems that my letters are always on
the gloomy side these days because I have to keep on asking the same questions about
things which must be causing you great concern. All I can do is hope that everything
is all right and wait for the news. There was no mail for me today but tomorrow may
bring forth a bundle and then I'll have to spend hours replying to them. Well it's a
private privilege to grumble and I'm making good use of that.
Tomorrow is my stand down day (flash term for "rest day") and the hills are calling
me or something. Up there is a beautiful waterfall – and a steep climb I'm told. An
army bus runs almost to the place so it should be a good days outing – like a busman's
holiday.
Later 9 o'clock. "Dina" and I just had a call out in the bush and, baby, are those tracks
rough? It's easy enough to find your way around in the daytime but at nightime it's a
different proposition. There are tracks leading everywhere and any of them could be
the right one. However, our sense of direction must be fair as we went directly to the
spot. Coming back the headlights started to play up and the night is black. Fortunately,
we got them going again and delivered the patient without much delay. This truck is
not as good as "Marge" although the mileage showing on the speedo is 1000 miles
less. I had "Marge" when she was brand new and I knew every little thing about her
and she never let me down.
Coming along the main road a big wallaby jumped out of the bushes then dashed
across in front. I gave him a slight bump with the nearside tyre but it wouldn't have
hurt him, I'm happy to say. There are quite a number of wallabies here and they make
the place seem like home so it would be a pity to kill them.
163
Well darling as you can see I'm floundering around trying to rake up enough to fill up
space when really all I had to say was "Hello" and tell you how lovely it is to love and
be loved. So now, goodbye and fair sailing, sweetheart. Love to all – the extra special
kind for yourself. Always your same old, Me.
PS. Have you received the two cake tins yet?
***
30 June 1943. Numbered 7. In pencil on lined writing pad paper, bearing regimental
number, name rank and unit, censored by Lt. V B Shiner.
My darling Marjorie, Today your letter number 92 arrived and it makes me feel sad
to think you have had to wait so long to hear from me. I know what it is like to be
expecting something and then be disappointed day after day. Never mind by this time
surely you will have received plenty and from now on you can look forward to a
regular flow of letters.
The tins and shells must have been a bit cheering to you. I had intended to make a
necklace with the shells but boring the holes was the problem so I sent them along
thinking you could give them to Anne if you didn't want them yourself. It took me
about two hours to collect them in spite of the fact that there were millions around on
the beach. I wanted everyone to be different but that was impossible. The natives here
make necklaces from small shells which are very attractive – I'll have to see what I
can do about it.
I wish you were here at this moment. Outside the RAP there are 50 or more natives
hunting a wallaby. They are dressed in coloured loincloths, wearing ornaments in
their hair and trinkets through their ears. Some have spears, others bows and arrows.
I've just been watching them. The poor old wallaby hopped across the track into the
long grass with all the natives jabbering and yelling in full pursuit. They surrounded
him and a few walked into the ring beating the grass. Suddenly the wallaby made a
break for it, towards the outer cordon and half a dozen spears flew at him but missed
by a foot or more and he got away. The last we saw of them they were after him still
jabbering to each other as they disappeared over the hill. Tonight I'm afraid they’ll
have bully beef for tucker.
Yesterday, Ron, Alan and I went up to have a look at the falls about 10 miles along
the roadway, which, incidentally, is little more than a good track that winds up the
side of the valley into the range. An airman gave us a lift to our destination. Here are
a Sally Hut and a rest room run by the ACF and a Red Cross depot. Tea, biscuits and
cake are supplied free to sightseers and men on duty. Most of the work is done by
native boys.
The falls are about half a mile or so away in the valley where the walls are a sheer
drop of, I should say, a thousand feet. There is a tremendous flow of water over the
main part of the falls and a lesser amount flowing over a high bulging face of a cliff
like the Bridal Veil. Down below are big boulders which have been rolled down by
the action of water over hundreds of years. The water drops into a big bowl and
shoots up a fine spray which blows about over a wide area. Swirling over the rocks
the water becomes a wicked looking rapids ,and then cuts its way through the valley
164
and out onto the lower levels where it settles down into the quiet river from which
comes our water supply.
I would have liked to have visited a native village but transport facilities were a bit
doubtful so we decided to leave it until another day. Last night I went over to another
unit to the pictures and saw "Secret Enemy". The projector is pretty poor and the film
had to be run at a slower speed than required to produce the sound. It made the actors
seem as if there were tired and anyhow the picture was lousy. I was amused to see a
"boy" sitting nearby take out a cigarette and strike the match on the sole of his foot.
Another thing that interested me the other day was the way one of them caught an
octopus. He simply put his arm under the water and in a few minutes brought it out
with the octopus hanging on with one tentacle (sic). Jabbering away, he bit the
tentacle off his arm and poke the thing’s eyes out with a stick. I don't think I'd fancy
fishing that way.
Now darling, to answer your letter. Firstly I am very well but I miss you more and
more as the time rolls on. We are lucky that we have such lovely memories to help fill
up the gap. Have you thought how little incidents colour your life – small things I
mean. Everyone at sometimes finds himself absolutely contented and wished he could
stay exactly like that forever. We’ve experienced that mood many times, haven't we?
Looking back on those times is like looking at a beautiful picture which brightens up
an otherwise drab life. Maybe I haven't made myself clear but you will know what I
mean.
In the ten days since I arrived four of your letters have reached me. So I’m much
better off than you are at the moment. Don't get disheartened though, sweetheart, I
have been writing as regularly as ever and will keep on doing that little thing
wherever I am.
The show you saw with Dulcie "You Never Were Lovelier" is being shown here, too.
May go back and have a look-see tomorrow night. "Holiday Inn" is also around so it
looks like some good entertainment for a while.
It's a pity I can't send Dad some tobacco but regulations are strictly enforced in that
regard, worse luck. They won't let it go out even as a birthday present regardless of
the fact that there's nothing else to buy. How is his old complaint these days – hope
the wintering weather is not stirring it up. And what about poor Mum's pains – I never
was much good at the sympathy stuff, was I? Perhaps that's because I hate it myself.
I’ll pass on your message to Pross when I see him – he’s well and I don't think that
they’d have to force leave on him. We should be together in a couple of weeks from
now. I'm not going to ask how Anne is again because I know you'll tell me in every
letter. Ask her if she remembers the story about "’Noccio" and give her a big kiss for
me. In regard to the socks don't send me any more for a while, dear as I have half a
dozen pairs in excellent order. Auntie Ethel is very kind to knit me that pair – I’ll
write to when they come along. Haven't mentioned "Sugar Pie" yet but she's not
forgotten – tell her she owes me a letter when you give her my love. Fondest of the
same to all the family. Tonight I'll end my letter with a little limerick which goes
something like this.
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“My love is like a cabbage
Nearly broke in two
The leaves I give to others
The heart I’ll keep for you.”
Good night darling, God bless, George
***
July 1943.
On the Rigo Road 12 miles from Port Moresby
2 July 1943. Numbered 8. In ink on airmail letter card, penny stamp, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, marked Passed by Censor, with signature of Lt V B
Shiner..
My Dearest Marjorie, Yesterday I received your letter, numbered 94 and written on
June 26. Should have been 93, I think unless you put in an extra one that hasn't shown
up yet.
There's no need for you to wonder if I'm safe and well. You betcha life I am. There is
a slit trench just outside the tent and if necessary I can fall out of bed into it. However,
the Nips will have an uphill battle to get to me so there's no cause for any alarm.
According to reports Darwin has been copping a few "eggs" lately and I suppose, Bill
is picking them up on his beam. He doesn't seem to like the place much, but after a
while, like everyone else, he’ll sink into a sort of coma as far as time is concerned and
he won't notice it so much.
Another page is torn off the calendar darling, and half of your long year has gone.
Christmas will soon be here and we hope – we hope – LEAVE. So far as we know the
10% arrangement still holds good.
I can’t tell you exactly where I am darling – you could guess and be pretty correct
though. Max might be able to help you but anyhow it doesn't matter much, does it?
You'll be surprised to hear we had a cold night last night too. Sydney weather must be
spreading. Today there’s a strong breeze blowing but it's as hot as blazes. The rainy
season hasn't started yet and I hope it hangs off for a couple of months. There’s plenty
of rain up in them thar hills to keep our reservoir full without us being up to our necks
in mud.
Balmain Hospital must be a regular port of call while Anne is there. It didn't take her
long to make friends with the nurses. She has a great personality and I am sure they
would love her and her matter-of-fact way of speaking.
I haven't had any news from home for a few days – Pross hasn't been down – waiting
anxiously to hear about Andre. How is Mother bearing up – she always hops into
action when anything happens, I know, but she forgets she can't do the things she did
166
when she was younger. Give her my love and tell her everything is okay.
Last night, two of us set out to see "Holiday Inn" but we'd been misinformed about
the place at which it was supposed to be showing. After a bumpy ride down towards
the sea we decided that we'd overshot the mark and hopped off the truck. Another
took us to a screen where "Orchestra Wives" was showing and it wasn't bad.
"Road to Morocco" will be here so we’re pretty much up-to-date with our movies.
Story worth repeating: – Padre: Are you troubled with improper thoughts. Soldier: No,
I kinda enjoy them.
Now Goodbye sweetheart. Don't forget there are better times ahead. An extra special
kiss and hug from, Your loving husband, George.
PS. Marge, dear would you see if you could get a rubber sack for my "Swan" Pen.
***
3 July 1943. Numbered 8, (also). In pencil on air mail postcard with penny stamp,
bearing regimental number, name rank and unit marked Passed by Censor, and
signed by Lt. V B Shiner.
My dearest Marjorie, I threw my hat up to the skies (mentally) this morning when I
was handed four letters and "Force News" from home. Two from you, letter and
magazine from Norma and Bulletin 9 from the office. I'll have to spend a lot of time
writing long answers to all of them. In the meantime you can consider this a "quickie"
to act as a stop-gap.
There is good news from all points. It's a relief to hear that Andy is out of danger and
Norma seems a lot happier. Anne's report is not so good but I am sure Dr Brown is
doing everything possible to avoid an operation. He's not the type of man who would
mislead you and Betty should have every confidence in him. It's not much use anyone
telling her not to worry – that's only natural for a mother – but for her own sake and
for all concerned, she shouldn't panic. Anne is a strong little child constitutionally and
even if she is operated on, she'll recover very quickly. Betty's time will be very close
when this reaches you, so give her my love and tell her I'm thinking of her all the time
even though I’m so far away. Poor old Bill must be going through a very anxious
time. Next time you write ask him what a fresh piece of meat tastes like. I've
forgotten. Everything we get comes out of a tin including the blasted margarine which
I never touch. Bread and jam will do me.
For the life of me I can't understand what the Censor clipped out of my letter – must
have talked too much. I sent my first letter through the Base Censor as things were
unsettled but since I've been told that that route is so much longer so in future I'll stick
to the Unit Censor. In regard to the unstuck letter cards that's out of my hands. It's
difficult to keep gummed edges from sticking before use and I suppose sometimes
there's nothing in the office to replace the gum. In any case you can’t have any private
life in the Army and who cares anyway.
George Patterson has put aside £2000 to purchase a retiring directors shares in the
firm which are to be held in trust for the boys on active service. Each year for the
duration and for 12 months after, the firm will add a substantial sum and together
with the dividends accrued the whole amount will be distributed amongst us (at the
end of that period). Will give you further details later. No wonder his name is exalted
167
in the advertising profession. Love to all at home and the "cabbage" sort of love for
you. Kiss and hugs, extra specials from your, Me
***
4 July 1943. Numbered 9 in pencil on quarto sized writing pad, lined, bearing
regimental number, name rank and unit, censored by Capt. J J Cuff.
My dearest Marjorie, Here I am in camp settling down to answer your two (1 and 2)
letters as promised yesterday. Wasn't it a coincidence that you should start to
renumber at the same time as I did. We must be psychic or something.
(Passage of approximately 5 lines excised from page by Censor)
The leave position remains a mystery but as soon as the second batch return we will
know the position. I'm with you all the way when you hope that it won't be long
before we are together again.
Surprised to hear that Bill Rouse is still in the Army. It must be a temporary
arrangement as the Air-force can claim him for air-crew.
(Frank Starr has just given me a piece of pineapple he bought from a native – extra
juicy and sweet. Pineapples grow wild here but troops are not allowed to pick them
because they are food for the natives and not very plentiful)
Bill T is very kind to make you a ring – without tools it's a tedious job. The one I'm
making is half finished and I can't do much more until I know the size of your finger.
Mine's a Zero brand aluminium.
Pross had a letter from Cecil this morning enclosing photographs of the happy pair.
Excellent pictures and the blonde is not hard to look at. The old Bob looks like letting
apron strings strangle him – or is he? Seeing she is in the army it may be a "machine
gun" wedding.
Norma's telegram came with this morning's mail, too. I feel very happy to know Anne
is safe and well and it won't be long before she's running around giving plenty of
cheek. Now, when Betty has done the job everything will be "hunky Dory" and you'll
be able to settle down to some strenuous baby bathing etc.
Haven't given much thought to post-war matters lately but after Mr Patterson's
generous action, I suppose the old job will be calling me. That and the fact that
advertising is evidently deteriorated since all Australia's leading advertising men have
been called to the colours, said he pulling himself up to his full height. Noel Rubies
lovely ladies were easy on the eyes – especially in Lustre lingerie. Such homely little
scenes.
Don't let that Esse go out, will you darling – how is the fuel holding up these days?
Hope you have enough coke to carry you through the coldest part of winter, and
thanks for the extra special.
And so to letter number two, in which there is evidence of a distinct rise in morale.
168
I can't understand why my first letter from here hasn't reached you yet. There was
nothing much in it and I shot into the Base Censor simply to speed up delivery. Will
certainly avoid that line of communication in future.
Being farther away doesn't matter much – the mail service is almost as good as it was
a few months ago. Leave may be delayed a bit but so long as the 24 days remains in
force we should be happy, darling.
Our new home is a change from what we have been putting up with for some months
and at least I can save up a bit of masuma to relieve the strain on finances when I
come home on leave.
There will be plenty of hard work for the next six weeks and after all the treatment, I
should be disease proof, healthy and strong – I hope
Prost and I are in the same tent again and pretty comfortable. We have stretchers
made of hessian on frames which were bequeathed to us. Boards on the floor, rough
table and three good chairs, box bookshelf at bedside and soon we’ll have electric
lights. Letter writing is much easier as it is quieter when one can get away from the
radio and amusements.
The idea of the radio for the kids rooms is the way to solve the problem about the two
radio. After all they must listen to the kiddies sessions while we're hearing Bing
Crosby and Bob Hope.
Say, listen here Mrs Seagrove, you haven't taken to heart what I said about repeating
news from me? What I meant was information that may be of use to anyone else and
the Censor will see that you don't get that sort. And while we are on the subject of
news, don't think about holding anything from me – the bitter and the sweet.
Fresh meat and milk are just memories to me, sweetheart but it doesn't seem to be
affecting me much. Tinned milk in the tea or coffee is the regular thing- in fact tinned
everything. Your parcel hasn't arrived yet but if you must send something, cakes and
sweets are most welcome.
Haven't come across Mac M or Bill Rowse – may put a message in the army paper to
see if either of them is around.
Norma's long letter gives me the lowdown on her doings and how she is getting on.
She seems to be a lot better, although I think she has a worried expression in the
photographs. By the way, those pictures are good and I'm mighty glad to have them
but I don't think they do any of you justice, do you? Don't agree that they are the best
of Norma.
Better tell Bruce I’m an excellent shot – what they call a ‘widow-maker’ in the
infantry. He certainly appears to be responding to your irresistible charms – very
bashful but thrilled. It's good to see you again- happy and laughing.
Pross thought the boys in the riggers were Bill Bradley and Sawkins – ask Bruce if
he's right. The rose is a beauty – must be a "Golden Ophelia". You will be getting
169
some more good blooms now that the season is in swing I suppose. Is the Salvia still
growing in the front garden?
I'll be waiting to see the new hair-do – Cec might be able to tell you where to catch
the street photographer. Or Bruce might help you again – he's becoming an expert on
the close-up shots. I think if those pictures were softened they would be improved out
of sight, tell him. How is the old son-of-a-gun anyway. Still doing well with the
rowing or have they finished with the regattas.
The old saying "There is safety in numbers" is all very well, sweetheart, but it would
be wiser for you girls to come home in the tram, I think. That road is not well-lighted
and the Bridge is dangerous with the blackout restrictions, besides you've had enough
exercise after two hours of physical culture.
Last night we saw "Road to Morocco" and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Bob Hope as usual
turns in an up to his standard show, doesn't he? And Dotti nearly sets the film alight.
The songs are nice and sentimental, especially "You're all dressed up to go dreaming"
and the other one which Dot sings. "Texas Rangers" was the other feature.
When I've written Mr Paterson and the office I'll send you the office bulletin so you
can read all about the Trust Fund – I covered it pretty well in my card to you
yesterday but there are a few other items that may interest you in it.
Forgot to tell you the newsreel last night showed part of "Rise and Shine" at a
WAAAF’s camp – Jack Davey quizzing and it was LOUSY.
Well dear when you are all dressed up to go dreaming tonight, think of me and maybe
I'll see you there. Princess, your tops. Always Your, Me.
***
6 July 1943. Numbered 10. In pencil on airmail letter card with one penny stamp,
bearing regimental number, name rank and unit marked as past by Censor and signed
by Capt. JJ Cuff.
My darling Marjorie, Your letter written on July 2 came yesterday and as you said I
had already received the news of Anne’s operation from Norma's wire but only the
previous day. Telegrams take almost as long as airmail letters it seems. I know how
you must've felt during that anxious time. The thought of the scalpel on such a little
child is enough to upset anyone. Anyway it's all over now and soon it will be
forgotten. Anne will be a bit shaky on her legs for a while but that is only to be
expected after a long spell in bed. I suppose she will be staying with you while Betty
is in hospital.
Tonight I am writing in the mess hut as the hurricane lamp does not give a good light
burning power kerosene. The radio is blaring out the war news and the static is
terrible which makes concentration pretty difficult. We’re having some "sticky"
weather lately, everything is moist and perspiration simply pours out of me.
170
Every day we do a two hours march followed by PT and then a shower. Mornings are
spent doing general duties and pick and shovel work. At the end of this course we
should be extra fit or skin and bones. I think it will be the former.
I went to see Road to Morocco again last night and enjoyed it just as much as the first
time. "The Devil and Miss Jones" was showing on the same programme. Pretty good,
eh? (Radio Tokyo is playing "home sweet home" signature tune of the "Prisoners of
War" sessions but the Yanks call "a good old tear-jerker")
This morning I did a bit of scrub clearing and the soil seems fertile although at the
moment dry. On the side of the dry creek nearby there is a level piece of ground so a
couple of us may start a bit of a veg garden to try out the good earth. Water might be a
problem but if reports are correct and it rains every day there shouldn't be any need
for carrying water. Rainy season will start in a few weeks time.
I haven't been able to get you a grass skirt so far Darling – the natives are a cunning
lot around these parts, low caste. There is a fixed price list for souvenirs and it is
supposed to be adhered to under penalty for breach by buyer or seller. Told natives
won’t work if they have too much money or food. Bye- bye now sweetheart with love
and kisses from, Me.
***
7 July 1943. No numbering, written in pencil on quarto writing pad, censored by
Capt. JJ Cuff but segment normally showing regimental number, name rank and unit
torn off.
My dearest Marjorie, Last night I wrote you a letter card from the Mess hut and I
didn't know whether I was Arthur or Martha. Tonight it's nearly as bad in the MT
office. Joe and a few of the boys are playing cards, making a devil of a racket but the
electric light makes it worthwhile to put up with the noise.
There was no letter from you today – that would be because of the intervening
weekend. You've spoiled me, as when the mail comes I rush over, always expecting
to see the familiar little handwriting.
Tonight the weather is oppressive, hot and the humidity must be around the 90%
mark. We've just had our dope and that seems to make it worse. Routine for today
was very much the same as yesterday. Digging out tufts of grass, burning it and
sweating like a pig – if a pig sweats. You should have seen us – we looked as if
somebody had chucked a bucket of water over us. The morning-tea-time dose of
orange juice or lemon is always welcome.
After lunch we went for the usual two hours route march, along the road this time.
Shirts must be worn all day now but I let mine hang outside my shorts which have a
big split across the backside for ventilation. Socks are rolled down over the boots and
when the dust kicked up and sticks, our legs look like they belong to Dirty Dan. When
we arrived back this afternoon I felt like dropping straight into bed for a sleep but
managed to rake up enough energy for a shower. Incidentally that also feels as if
171
there's a fire under it. Very an interesting topic of conversation darling, but still it's all
I have to talk about at the moment.
There's a half-eaten-by-ants carcass of a python on down the road which I have told
everybody about except you. It's a corker about three inches in diameter and 10 or 12
feet in length. Nasty customer to meet in the jungle – hope there's no more of them
around. Did I tell you about the goanna "pet" they have at the unit where I was
stationed last week? It waddles up to the garbage cans, bowls them over and has a
good feed. I believe the natives relish them, so poor old Mr Goanna will probably
finish up in a stew pot.
Jack Starr – Frank's brother, called in yesterday, said he would show us around his
part of the place on our next rest day which should be next Sunday. First thing he
asked about Vic was "Has he any more in his family?" Pross and I asked him what
was the last score he'd heard.
With this letter darling I am sending you a postal note (number D 083910) for £1 to
buy yourself a present. See, I told you my financial position had improved
considerably. I'm keeping my eyes peeled for a grass skirt or some other kind of
souvenir but they're not plentiful around here and the natives are inclined to whack up
the price to suckers. It reminds me of the remark Mae West passed to the recruiting
sergeant "Here’s two suckers you won't get" (Clever but not clean).
I heard today that Lady Gowrie and Dr Earle Page are advocating that troops who
have contracted malaria should be kept away from the mainland until after the war to
protect the civil population. Well, well, that's gratitude – if it's correct. If it is, I think
that all the advocates should be shoved into the jungle see how long they could stand
it.
How are you sweetheart? And how is the old Bett coming along? What did you bet on
it being a boy? Was at sixpence or a shilling? I suppose Anne is out of hospital by
now and Auntie Marjorie is Nursie. My fondest love to both of them and also to
Mum, Dad, Norma and the families.
Every day is one day less to the time when we'll be back in double harness again so
keep on dreaming about the good times ahead. Good night, dear Princess, be seeing
you under the old apple tree before very long. Love and kisses extra special. Always
your own, Me
PS Who are you going to vote for at the August elections? See if you can check up on
the Gowrie-Page story
***
7 July 1943, also. Numbered 10. In pencil on quarto sized, lined writing pad, bearing
regimental number, name rank and unit, censored by Capt. A S Henderson.
My darling Marjorie, I've just had tea and slipped down to the MT office to answer
July 3 and 5 letters. When I slipped, I mean slipped. It has been drizzling rain since
about 3 PM and we are getting our first taste of the rainy season. The clay soil is
mixing up into a nice thick mud which sticks to boots like four soles. I went over to
172
the shower, before tea, with a towel around me – really the walk was unnecessary as
there was enough water falling from the skies to wash off the dirt.
And last night we had a look-see at "Holiday Inn" in the rain. Nobody takes much
notice of the wet. They all sit around on whatever is offering with rain capes pulled in
close and hats well down – and a good time is had by all.
I'm glad I didn't miss Holiday Inn with Bing and Fred Astaire– it was an excellent
show. Funny thing several lads remarked that it made them feel homesick although it
couldn't be called a "homely" picture. When Bing sang "In your Easter bonnet" I
couldn't help thinking of you – perhaps because that was my theme song when you
were trying on a new hat. By the way, darling, you told me you had a little "pippin"
which I haven't seen, so you'd better have a photograph taken with it on.
Pross and I are both very well – plenty of hard work and sweat to make us tired. We
have to take salt tablets to replace what is lost when we perspire. You can always take
for granted that we’re okay unless stated otherwise.
Glad to hear Anne is on the mend – poor little dear, she must be in pain but she will
soon be over it and happy as a sky-lark- When I get a chance I'll scribble her a little
note.
Your parcel hasn't arrived yet – I understand they take quite a long time, so I'm not
worrying. Darling, don't think about sending me any money. I have more than I know
what to do with as it is. Tobacco at one and tuppence for 2 ounces makes a big
difference to the old pockets and picture shows don't cost a bean. There I go talking
about beans again.
Haven't been very far up in the hills up to now – not extra keen on it either. Although
"I wouldn't miss it for worlds".
About the papers and weeklies sweetheart, I would like to get them when you're
finished with them at home. Must see what's going on in the advertising world.
Doesn't matter about sending me the Sunday paper regularly but whenever there’s
something startling in it I like to see it. We have a newspaper here which gives us the
daily news in brief.
The ring I'm making is too small for you so you can give it to Anne for when her hand
gets a bit bigger. I'll start on another one right away. Bill must have worked on the
theory that the diameter of a threepenny piece is the size of a ladies ring finger.
Betty wrote to me at last – and I'm going to have a shot at answering her later tonight.
That's if I don't run out of words.
The good old summertime will soon come to Sydney and then you will be wishing it
was cool. Still, taking it all around I think the summer is better than winter –
especially when you've got a ‘frig to make ice cream and keep the salads cold. Your
letters aren't a bit gloomy dear – news is news whether good or bad, always remember
that, won’t you.
173
I didn't see "Vanishing Virginia" but it may be showing somewhere about here – we
are well catered for as regards good pictures.
You can make all the arrangements for the 24 days of heaven – don't know whether it
is still on or not yet but it must come sometime mustn't it?
I haven't located Mac – in fact I haven't tried. It should be easy enough to get into
touch with him, only you know how I like putting things off.
Sorry to hear Dad's not feeling so well – a bottle of Nelsons Blood would fix up that
flu. Norma could have a dose too.
And that Princess, is all for tonight. A big kiss and all my love to you. With the wish
that all your days will be merry ones, good night darling. Always Your, Me`
***
11 July 1943. Not numbered, in pencil on airmail weight/quality writing pad, lined,
bearing regimental number, name rank and unit, censoring officers initials only , not
identifiable..
My darling Marjorie, Today Pross, Frank and I had our rest day and we have just
arrived back in, dusty and tired. Your parcel containing the sweets, chocs etc and
socks from Auntie Ethel was waiting to welcome me – thank you darling. I will write
to Auntie in a day also. Pross also received a parcel from Mother and one from Flo –
tell mother it arrived in good condition and the cakes are yum -yum. There was no
letter mail today – understand there won't be any for some time but I'll keep on
writing to you, so you'll probably have a pile to read when they reach you.
We had a tour around the place this morning with Frank's brother – hitchhiking all the
way. Met a very decent crowd of fellows who asked us to stay at their mess for lunch.
They treated as very well indeed, plenty of chocolate and smokes. Their tents are
fixed up like small houses with the veranda overlooking the water - only four in each
tent which gives them plenty of scope for chairs and tables and places to put their
clothes. If we are here any length of time we’ll have to adopt some of their ideas.
Already I have put up a fly outside our abode and made a path of gravel but
unfortunately there are six beds to make room for and that cramps us. Later on more
tents may be erected and it will relieve the congestion for us.
Topic of conversation is very boring, I know dear but at least it fills up the letter
doesn't it. I can't say much about anything yet and now that you have told me my
letters have been cut about I'm doubtful whether I can say much more then "Hello" to
you. I have always been very particular about confining myself to things we have
been told that we could mention so I can't understand the censorship.
After lunch the three of us went to a cricket match – Army v Airforce – and I was
surprised to see such a lot of “ Big” cricket players in the teams. Dad will remember
Rigg, Bettington, Cohen, Hansen, all first graders and quite a few more well-known
interstate cricketers. I got very sleepy when the play slowed up and dozed off for
about half an hour in the sun. At tea adjournment, Army was all out for 171 and
174
Airforce 5 for 110 runs. We had to leave them to get back by 5.30 for our pills so I
don't know who won.
How is Betty? And all the family? Hope you've all recovered from the winter
ailments. Look after yourself sweetheart – and don't go over-doing things. You've
been through a worrying time and you must be careful not to let your system get run
down. That guy in the photograph on your little table is thinking of you day and night
and longing to see you again. How many times have I said that and how much longer
will we have to wait? Who knows it may not be as far-off as we think.
The invasion of Sicily brings the end nearer I think and every day the Allies are
getting stronger – perhaps 12 months from now we’ll be marching home for good.
Last night I read through your letter letters again and burnt them. I have to keep down
my goods and chattels to a minimum now that I'm off the ambulance. I kept a few
dear and tied them in a bundle. They are so lovely I wouldn't part with them.
Good night dearest and happy days until my next letter./Ever your own, Me
***
13 July 1943. Not numbered, in pencil on airmail quality, quarto letter pad, bearing
regimental number, name rank and unit, censored by Capt. JJ Cuff.
My dearest Marjorie, Another day has passed without a letter from you and I
haven't much to say. The boiled sweets, caramels, chocs and goodies were very
welcome – sugar is not plentiful although we get enough to keep us going. Pross cut
the cake Flo sent him and it tasted pretty good – looks like Grafton is still interested
doesn't it? Taking the food we get all round, there's not much to complain about
especially when supplemented by parcels from home. Vitamin tablets daily now make
up for the deficiency of fresh green vegetables.
Sometimes tinned peaches fare on the menu, with custard. Often we get camp pie
(instead of bully beef) with radishes, tomatoes and occasionally asparagus which I
don't fancy. Beans by the million – remember how much I used to like bean
sandwiches– never no more though. For breakfast there is always good porridge and
tonight the cooks made a raisin tart – I can still feel it in my neck. At the canteen we
can usually buy tinned peaches or pears and Nestle’s cream for 1/8 the two items –
not bad, eh? There are plenty of cigarettes (Craven A 10d. for 20) and tobacco and my
financial position has improved considerably – £1 in my paybook and 12/- in my
pocket besides enough smokes to last me a fortnight. So don't think any more about
sending me a few shillings to play around with darling. Tell you what you can do the
next time you are packing a parcel – send me my old pair of khaki shorts if they are
still about. The ones I have at present have the backside out of them and another pair
is indicated. When I'm coming home I’ll buy a new pair from the canteen and be
swanky. During the day shorts are permitted and they are cooler. At night of course,
long greens must be worn to beat the mozzies. Our camp been improved greatly since
we arrived and it looks as though the malaria bugs will have an uphill battle as well as
Togo's buggers. Actually the former is more to be feared than the latter.
175
The last couple of days of weather have been good – hot and sweaty during the
daytime and quite cool late at night. That makes good night a certainty. We had a few
"thrills " lately but you'll have to wait to hear about them – no need to worry.
Last night I went to the pictures again – regular fair these days. Both pictures were
excellent – "Message from Reuters" and a pre-release of “My Sister Eileen”, cast
headed by Rosalind Russell. When it comes to Sydney try to get along to see it –
you'll have a good laugh at the wisecracks some of them are a bit broad but clever.
I'm stumped for allowable news tonight so will say "cheerio". Before I do I must ask
how my darling wife is and how are all the folks a doin’ of? Love to them not
forgetting Auntie Emily. Hope Betty is well.
You know the old song "If I should fall in love again" – all that still holds good with
me, Princess. Now, good night and happy dreams always your, Me.
PS. Received a little letter from my St Ives girlfriend Joannie today. She tells me she
has some new soldier boys next door. Looks like I’m wiped.
***
15 July 1943. Numbered 12. In pencil, on quarto airmail writing pad paper, bearing
regimental number, name rank and unit, censored by Lt. V B Shiner.
My darling Wife, Whacko! I've got two letters to answer it tonight. One dated July 7
(number 6) and the other July 8 – 9 (number 7) which I have just finished reading.
The rain today has made everything muddy and damp but we are becoming used to it
now. At least the spell from the heat is welcome – in spite of the grey day we’ve been
working hard, digging a big drainage pit though and the perspiration still rolls out like
water.
Later. Just had an interruption to my thoughts – Pay Parade – collected a whole 10
shilling note and that's plenty to last me for the next few weeks, I think
If this has to be wrung out before you can read it, blame the weather because it's
coming down in sheets now. The tent is fairly well pitched and my side has boards so
my slumbers should be peaceful. Tojo doesn't pick this sort of a night for a visit, I'm
sure!
That's about enough about the weather isn't it? What next? Well, I received a postcard
from Hughie Walker yesterday and in keeping with the "Admiral's" sense of humour,
it depicted a scene of the vats in which Guinness Stout is brewed in Dublin. He likes
Ireland and plans to spend his next leave there – must have a colleen in tow.
He also mentions that Mitch had been to see him and Trevor met him in London a few
weeks previously. Those lads are certainly seeing a lot of the world and being paid for
it, too. Nevertheless I gather that they live dangerously, although nothing much is
ever written about that side of the story.
Mother's letter arrived yesterday – tell her I will answer it soon. I'm glad to hear that
everyone (on my side of the family) is much better. You didn't tell me you had a cold,
176
the little bird whispered. Look after yourself, darling or you’ll be catching the flu.
How's your Dad? He must be pretty bad if you had to get Dr. Sillar to him. It's a good
idea to keep him in bed in the drafty winter.
My sight-seeing tours are rather limited at present but there are some places nearby
that I must visit before long. Perhaps I'll be able to find some of those bright coloured
shells and make you a little novelty when the opportunity comes along. You would be
surprised at the beautiful things the boys design from metal and shells (marine type,
not explosive). Practise makes perfect so I may as well start right away. The ring is
under construction but don't expect anything too marvellous for the first effort. The
only instrument I have to work with is a blunt file and my patience is not the best.
Dulcie with the flu seems to be in the fashion with the Sydney ailments. When you
see her ask her if she still uses tissues to blow her "doze". Hope she is better ‘ere this.
Norma's remark about it being my turn to write is out of date – she owes me one,
now. Sugar-pie sure does get impatient about this wedding, doesn't she? I'm thrilled to
know the sweet little dear feels so about me but I'll bet she'll be squealing the same as
in days of yore when yours truly gets home. No need to start pulling her hair, darlingit was always my fault and it will be in the future.
Don't get the blues sweetheart and you must take a trip to town to the pictures for a
change occasionally, otherwise you'll have me wrapping your knuckles. Wait till that
leave of mine comes around. I'll show you how to enjoy yourself. We’ll have the time
of our young lives seeing everything and going everywhere. It's almost 8 months
since the Sunday we went strolling across the Corso at Manly isn't it, and it seems like
years to me. I have a feeling that I'll be home for the second time when Norma and
Bruce get hitched – the war will be decided by then even if it's not finished. President
Roosevelt said 1944 would see a decided change and I respect his opinion.
Tel Cec, Dad Gill and Norm Campbell returned to the unit today. Old Dadda is one of
our original funnymen and the lads gave his hand a good shaking when he showed up.
Tonight he’s sitting on my bed a couple of feet from me talking to Frank and Pross.
And that's about all I have to say tonight, Princess. However a lot of love and kisses
to collect and deliver during those 24 days of heaven – I can hardly wait, but all in
good time, darling. So good night dearest – dream on about the happy times ahead.
Extra special love and kisses – ever your own. George.
PS. No blondes and few brunettes.
***
17 July 1943. Not numbered, in pencil on airmail, quarto, writing pad paper, bearing
regimental number, name rank and unit, censored by Capt. J J Cuff.
My darling Marjorie, I dropped a line to Betty last night to let her know she’s
thought about even though we’re miles away from home. I haven't heard from you in
the last couple of days so I presume things are much the same. Give her my love
when you see her and tell her if little Thummler is anything like Anne, she'll do me.
177
It's not quite dark yet but the sky is overcast and I'm using the hurricane lamp, writing
in peace and quietness in the tent. Most of the boys have gone to the pictures. I'll be
going on Monday night to see the same show at another point. Bob Hope in "I've got
you covered "was showing somewhere last night and I'm sorry I missed it. Still it will
be doing the rounds so I suppose I'll see it eventually.
What have you been doing with yourself lately – apart from running around to the
hospital and looking after the sick and ailing. You should take out a little bit of time
to enjoy yourself, darling – why not get Bruce and Norma to go to the Minerva with
you, one night. It would be a change from the pictures.
The weather up here has been much cooler during the last week – the breeze has
freshened a bit and the sun has a struggle to get through the cloud. When it does the
temperature takes a steep jump and the place is like a hot kitchen. Most of my time
lately has been spent on digging trenches and making roads and pathways. That keeps
the sweat rolling out and builds up the "muskles" at the same time.
Allan Willoughby has just walked in with a dozen packets of American cigarettes. So
tonight we are doing it in style. A crowd of Yanks were passing by the camp and I
heard one yell out, "Would you like a cigarette?" Alan was coming up the road so he
collected enough for everyone. Not bad guys, these guys. As a matter of fact we come
into contact with the lot of them, especially the air force and they are good mixers!
I haven't done any driving for nearly a fortnight – almost forgotten what it feels like.
The change is all right with me for the time being – don't know what it would be like
as a permanent arrangement. I'm thinking very seriously of switching over to the field
if it is possible but I won't break away from Pross
Tomorrow is our rest day and I have my washing to do. George will be spending the
morning, at least, over the washtubs. May be in the afternoon I'll go for a sightseeing
tour around the area. Now, sweetheart, I'm going to work on your ring which is not
coming along too well. So good night dearest girl in the world and sweet dreams. All
my love and kisses extra special, Always your, Me
PS. A while ago Allan asked though what I was thinking about and I told him I was
thinking about three things. The first was Marjorie. The second was Marjorie and the
third was leave. No further news on the last mentioned – the lads who were on leave
haven't arrived back, yet. By the way don't start to worry if you don't hear from me for
a week or so at any time. Sometimes the mail takes a long time to get through. Love,
George
***
18 July 1943. Numbered 14. In pencil on airmail letter card bearing one penny
stamp, bearing regimental number, name rank and unit, portion excised by Censor,
who signs off as Capt. S B Clipsham, NX137564.
Marjorie Darling, Thank you for two letters today – one written on July 10 and the
other on July 13. The weather hasn't been too good lately and that would be the cause
of the delay in mails.
178
Pross is writing on the other side of the table tonight. He had a letter from Cecil this
morning and Cec has been throwing his hat in the air because of my glowing picture
of this place. Pross says I'm haywire – it's lousy up here. Well, can I help it if I'm a
Pollyanna. After all the world does look better through rose coloured glasses doesn't
it?
Did I hurt my sweetie's feelings by disagreeing about the photographs – it seems that
every time I open my mouth I put my foot in it.
Tell Bruce it's you who should receive the coupons in return for the cuddle caught by
the candid camera. My (next sentence excised). Best regards to the Casanova (check
that spelling or just call him Cuss, for short)
I wouldn't worry too much about the garden if I were you. Just chuck some pumpkin
seeds and stamp them in and leave the rest till I come home to help you. The idea we
had for a veg garden up here is still only an idea. Perhaps we wouldn't get the benefit
of it.
Your little picture of Norma resting before leaving for the dance, brings back
memories of olden times. All the preparation and fiddling around with the doo dahs
used to exhaust her and the rest of the family too didn't it? Anyway I hope she
enjoyed herself.
(The mark on this page is red paint ).
Sorry about Saturday night's darling –when Dad gets well (rest of sentence illegible
because of excision). I'm relying on him to escort you in my absence so he'd better eat
his tucker if only for my sake
I haven't forgotten about the walks around the Avenue with Daisy and Dulcie and you
can tell Betty her remarks are very nice although they are overstatements
That answers your letter number 9 and as there is not much space left I'll leave
number 10 until next time. I bet you still look as pretty as ever when you're all dressed
up to go dreaming – what a pity they did away with magic carpets, sweetheart. Kisses,
extra special, love from your, Me.
***
20 July 1943. Numbered 15. In pencil on lined airmail quality writing pad paper,
quarto sized, bearing regimental number, name rank and unit, but no evidence of
censor.
My dearest Marjorie, I have a few minutes to spare before going out on a job so I'm
beginning the answer to your number 9 letter. Yesterday number 10 and 11 (July 16)
arrived – three days ain't bad going is it?
A handbag for that present is a good idea – and in regard to your choice I'm sure I
couldn't do as well without the inspiration from you. Keep your eyes dry, darling –
save your tears for the time when we begin to live like human beings again.
179
The weather continues to be cloudy and muggy –not much rain but enough to make
everything damp including envelopes and writing paper.
My strides got so many splits that I put them into the Q store to see if they can get
them replaced. If that comes off I won't need the pair of shorts I asked you to send.
Better not send them until you hear from me again.
There is no shortage of water here – and my dirty legs always get a nightly scrub.
Likewise my socks followed by powdering of my tootsies. All that's missing is a
pretty blonde to manicure my nails. The nice hot bath you mentioned wouldn't go
astray just the same.
Three whistles have blown for parade – see you later tonight Sweetheart.
Tuesday Night July 20
I've been away all the day digging holes and shovelling fine gravel – strange job for
ambulancemen isn't it? But we've got to make the place liveable, even if not for
ourselves.
Betty is taking a long time to deliver the goods – I'm getting very anxious about my
sixpenny bit. Helen is a pretty name and should suit the little girl. Anne will feel the
switch of attention for a while I suppose, but when things settle down she will have a
new interest.
Hope Dad is feeling better and is able to eat his food now. You must be like me on
that throat painting business – it makes me feel that way, too. I usually start reaching
for the ceiling before the swab gets to my mouth. Has Dad tried an aspirin gargle or a
weak solution of Condy's crystals.
Young Alan is lucky to be transferred near home – half his luck would do me. Has the
Army made any improvements? Hanged if I can see how it possibly could, still I may
be wrong. This may be one instance where the lack of home influence is best.
Mother said in her last letter that Andy was much better – it will take some time for
him to fully recover but with plenty of fresh milk and sunshine he'll do alright.
I haven't seen Ding Dong for a couple of weeks as he is stationed where Pross was
and I'm not doing any driving for the time being. Joe is not in our tent now so I don't
hear much talk about the new baby. In common with all of us, he's looking forward to
a speedy return to civilisation, – only he and the others come last on the list now.
Pross and I are well – he doesn't like this place any more than I do, he says. He told
me to tell you that he hasn't lost his heart yet but the girls look whiter to him, every
day.
Leave is just as far-off as ever – that doesn't mean the Christmas date is off yet. There
has been no further talk of it and we are waiting for the rest to return so that the
subject will be re-opened. The ring I promised you darling, is still under construction
and looks like a lifetime job. If I'm not writing letters, I'm at the movies, consequently
180
the ring is pushed into the background. You'll have to wait to find out what the design
(my own) is like but I'm sure you'll like it even if I say so myself.
At last night's show we saw "Footlights Serenade", (B. Grable slashing , vivacious
blonde) and "Dressed to Kill", not a bad programme.
My, My, darling, aren't we getting swanky with our stationery. With the family crest
and all.
Give Dad a cheer up for me and tell him not to drop his bundle. In a short time he'll
be well again and planting spuds in the back garden
You must be a ball of energy to be able to run around like you do and have enough
left for physical culture. I'm afraid you'll have to start me on a course when I get back.
The climate up here makes me feel like taking a nap at every opportunity – which I
do.
There's not much for me to say about this location – it has its pretty spots but even
scenery gets frightfully boring at times, dear girl. The man-made part is very
interesting but talk about that, of course is not permitted. I'll send you a copy of the
paper we get in my next letter so that you can see how the news is dished up
The old roof sounds as if it's giving you a lot of trouble. I suppose Dad is worrying
about that, too. Well, tell him not to, as long as the house holds together and keeps the
rain out. Better rope in the inspectors for a working bee one Sunday morning. Aub
can have another go in the Tenasco.
Pross had a letter from Len Bass sometime ago and he said that he was still at the
same place, lucky guy. Wouldn't mind being back there myself, at least it's healthy.
At the next back fence session give my kind regards to the Boon family, would you.
Our vegetables were always bigger and better than theirs, weren’t they?
I almost forgot to tell you that young Bruce wrote to me and gave me a good laugh.
Tennis doesn't appeal to him much but the dames aren't bad. He writes a good letter
giving all the local news and asks to be excused for not being a good writer. It appears
that two people next door have died, he is a working man earning five shillings a
week with which he is paying off a chemistry set. I got the lowdown on how much
Aub likes the new job, results of the examinations and many other things on a page
and a half. Will answer it tomorrow.
Like Bruce I haven't anything more to tell you so I'll close now, sweetheart. We’ll
soon be sailing along smoothly and happy again, so keep the old chin up. All my love
and kisses as always George.
PS. News about Italy is brighter isn't it.
***
181
22 July 1943. Numbered 16, on airmail quality/weight letterpad, in pencil with
regimental number, rank name and unit, censored by Capt S.B. Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, As expected your No. 12 letter arrived this morning and from
all accounts Saturday night's the night when my Cinderella sits by the fire, while her
big ugly sister goes to the Ball or Rowing Club events. Don't tell Sugarpie I called her
the big ugly sister because I don't mean it. She's not a bad sort and her puss would get
by in a crowd. I suppose the dear thing holds the position of hostess at the Club, now
that Bruce is secretary. By the way she owes me a letter as usual – and a kiss. I'm one
up on both counts.
Dad seems to be having a bad time and I can realise how worried you must be. Being
in bed for so long would make him feel weak and the cold weather wouldn't help.
Spring isn't far away though and when he is able to sit in the sunshine, he will be
much better I hope.
Poor old Anne (as Bruce calls her), is not out of the woods yet either. There must be
something not quite right when she is content to go to bed at 5.30. She's young
however and in no time she'll be up and scooting over to see little whoosis across the
road to show him her operation.
Darling, in previous letters I’ve asked you to send my shorts and newspapers. Cancel
that request will you. Newspapers take weeks to reach here and we may not be
permitted to wear shorts much longer. A copy of the "rag" you wanted is enclosed.
Not a bad effort is it?
I told you how much Pross likes his new home in my last letter. He doesn't.
Cecil sounds as if he is about to be uprooted. When you see him, whisper in his little
pink ear and tell him not to get any false impressions about this joint. I'm looking
forward to the time when we leave it forever.
I liked the silhouette of you in the throes of trying to scrape up enough news to write
to me. You don't have to tell me how hard it is but never mind as long as I get a few
words from you regularly I feel that we are close even though miles apart.
The Sicilian campaign must give everyone new hope for a quicker end to the war.
When the wops are licked (Musso's mob I mean), the Allies will be able to bash the
Nazi's on all sides. I bet the big Bullfrog is wishing he'd kept his nose out. Italians are
crying out about the bombings now, forgetting that their airmen took part in the big
raids on London. If they won't listen to reason then they'll get a taste of what England
got in the early days.
At long last sweetheart your ring is finished – it's my best with the files and material I
had on hand and I hope you will like it. I think it will be too large for you but I
worked to the size you sent me. Anyway if you can’t wear it, it will fit in your purse.
Seeing that you are a Red Cross blood donor the design is appropriate. My own, said
he proudly. I’ll post it in a registered letter in a day or so.
182
Last night I wrote to Mother and Bruce so you will know Pross and I are well. Both
putting on a nice tan which will probably disappear in the rainy season. I hope you
have got rid of that cold and are looking after yourself in the Sydney snow,
(newspaper report says some sleet fell in the old burgh). Fondest love to all at home –
an extra special bit for you. Good night Princess with a big kiss and hug from, Your,
Me. PS. I've got a date with an angel tonight – in dreams.
***
24 July 1943. Numbered 16, [also]; on air mail letter card with penny stamp, in ink,
with regimental number, rank, name and unit, censored by Lt. D. C. McAulay, .
My darling Marjorie,
Well at last I can tell you I am in New Guinea, among the "boongs" and things – but
the precise location is still secret. There are many other matters that we can't write
about and you will have felt the strained feeling in my letters. All the time I'm pulling
myself up wondering if what I've written will get by and that makes it hard to keep up
the flow. Practically every day I see something new or some incident which would
make interesting reading but it’s all taboo– so I'll just have to go on the same old way
except for the slight lift of restrictions.
Yesterday your letter of July 18 arrived and today I received No.14 written on July 20
– that good delivery isn't it.
Tough luck about the coal and coke shortage – you’ll have to try to get some wood
and use the fireplace in the breakfast room – or wrap yourself up in a rug. How about
buying a radiator of getting the old one fixed up to use when you are writing to me on
those cold nights. Sydney weather has been very severe this year from all accounts
but summer isn't far-off and you be much more comfortable when the sun starts to
warm things up.
Sorry to hear that Dad is still sick, dear. He's had a bad time and, I suppose it will take
some time to recover fully his strength. Tell him he'll have to get fit for the time I get
home – we’ll be trotting up the street a lot.
Give your Mother and Norma a kiss for me – they can save their butter and sugar
coupons for me. As a matter of fact I understand necessary coupons are issued to
soldiers going on leave.
How's your cherry nose – or do you pronounce it "dose" these days.
Bruce is lucky to have two lovely blondes to look after – I'm sure I could manage the
job well myself. I'm looking forward to hearing from him.
Can't make out why my letters haven't reached you regularly because I write every
second day.
I'm afraid we wont be able to go to the "Youth Show" – GPs bulletin says they have
recorded the last one and after that goes to the air there will be no more until after the
183
war. Reason being that all the stars are in the services. Robin Ordell is in England.
The "kids" nearly wept on the last night, I'm told. Tomorrow is my rest day, darling,
and I'll be writing to you again. This is just a "quickie" so now good night. Princess –
may your days be happy and bright always. Love and kisses, George.
PS tell Betty to hurry up and send my sixpence. G.
***
25 July 1943. Not numbered, in ink, on ACF unlined notepad, with regimental
number, rank, name unit, censored by Lt. D. C. McAulay.
My dearest Marjorie, In the lettercard I wrote to you last night I think I answered
your two lastest letters but I promised to write today and enclose the rings you’ve
heard so much about.
They are not what you'd call super-doopers but then it's my first attempt at the art of
jewellery making. The small one is for Anne – it's a pity there’s not more colour in it
but the band is too narrow to bore holes in and even when piercing it once, I stabbed
myself in the thumb three times with the sharpened end of the file. Yours is a better
effort and I hope it fits you, although I don't think it will. Anne’s is genuine
Zero and yours is made from a piece of "Liberator" which I'll never forget. 28
Some of the lads are tradesmen and they have made very attractive souvenirs –
yachts, cigarette cases, watch bands etc. I'll just stick to the simple easy things for a
while.
Today is my standdown day and most of that has been spent in washing, sewing and
tightening up the hessian on my bed. Everything is pretty well-organised now so I can
settle down to a spot of reading. The "Women's Weekly" and Sunday Telegraph you
sent some time ago arrived this morning – it is hardly worthwhile sending them,
darling, (newspapers, I mean) as they are well out of date when they arrive. Still if
there is any space to spare at any time you could include them, but don't go to any
trouble as "Guinea Gold" keeps us up to date with headline news.
Last night Pross and I had an extra special treat – Mother's cough remedy and it was
extra good after taking that my cold disappeared and I relaxed in my steel chair to
read World's News, smoke and talk of other days. Can you imagine the two of us
sitting under a tent fly on a hot New Guinea night with the hurricane lamps flickering
and enjoying that luxury.
I wonder what you are doing this Sunday afternoon – out on the back lawn in the sun
if it's not cold and wet I bet.
How did you enjoy the visit to Artarmon last week and how are the Doug Roger's
doing?
LATER. If that's tea, I've had it – prunes and rice. The cake Pross got from one of his
girlfriends must have killed my appetite. For lunch today there was salmon and
asparagus – needless to say I passed over the asparagus. The salmon is the best money
184
can buy – lovely pink steaks. Enough about eats, – it never was a popular subject of
conversation with us, was it?
Sweetheart, don't think your letters are gloomy because you tell me about the family
ailments – you can't help it if that's the way things are – and after its news. You have a
lovely way of telling everything – sometimes a little sad and sometimes glad. Once
before I told you that I loved you when you're happy or when you’re blue – in fact I
adore you anyway. Will tell you more about it when that leave comes around.
Now I'll say good night, darling, and wish you a happy dreams. A special kiss and
love from, Your, Me.
PS. Another kiss for my Sugar pie. Wouldn't she scream if I were home tonight. All
the best to Mum and Dad. Excuse terrible writing – blame weather.
***
27 July 1943. Numbered 17, in ink, on ACF unlined letter pad, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, censored by Lt. D. C. McAulay.
My Dearest Marjorie, Your letter written July 23 (number 15) arrived with one from
Dulce, yesterday. Dear old Aunt Emily Wilson has passed away – it made me sad to
hear that especially as I had intended to write to her and kept putting it off. She was a
wonderful old lady and I know she thought of you as one of her own. It is some
consolation to think she had a peaceful end and didn't suffer any pain. Her friends will
be poorer for her passing.
Col Bell returned to HQ today and has just left me. He sends his very sincerest
regards to my dear lady with a wish that it won't be long before we are reunited. Col
has turned out to be an apt poet and has written a few verses – I'll get a copy of them
and let you judge for yourself. He's definitely a sentamentalist who pictures the sad
side of the war – the metre mightn't be so hot but the thought is there.
I'm glad to hear that Dad is improving – tell him to cheer up. Musso's licked and it
won't be long before the rest of his mob turn it in – and I've got to have my old
sparring partner in good shape.
Be careful of your cold, little cherry nose – you'd better take some cod liver oil if it's
persistent. There I go again, prescribing for ailments or love or anything. Must be
something my mother handed down to me.
Darling you need not reproach yourself for any influence you had on my decisions in
the past. I've told you before that your commonsense reasoning is something that
anyone could benefit from. I'm quite satisfied with the way things have turned out as
it will probably mean that our parting will be much shorter.
And about having a good time – you go out and enjoy yourself but tell Bruce to look
after you for me.
185
Pross showed me a newspaper cutting about that rotten beast down the road. Margot
Johnstone did the right thing in calling the police. I thought about you running down
to see Mother at night by yourself – next time you go down there, darling take your
Mother or Norma with you. The man must be half-wit.
I haven't written to Anne yet but it won't be long now – my list of pen sweethearts is
growing isn't it? By the way did the rings arrive safely?
Ten days from 23 July – that is August 2. Good old Liz – she rings the bell again. I'll
be thinking of her and wondering whether I win the bet or not.
Now for a little of the local gossip. Firstly Mother's two youngest very well – except
for the backache I have from bending over this table. The weather has been fine today
and it's cool tonight. My washing is up-to-date and there were tinned peaches on the
menu tonight. Of course one has to have a microscope to find them. The custard had a
rum flavour which stirred up memories as well as my stomach.
Last night we took a taxi to the pictures – the rain (light) didn't stop us – and the
program was first class. Has "The Desert Victory" been shown in Sydney yet? It's the
story of the 8th Army's sweep across North Africa and it's well worth seeing even
though grim.
And don't miss "The Seven Sweethearts" when it comes to town. I'm sure you'll enjoy
it. – Grayson is the youngest sweetheart with a lovely voice which unfortunately
didn't reproduce too well on the mobile unit machine. Beautiful dames and a story
that’s really funny in its quaintness. I'd call it a woman's picture but from the reactions
of the troops I’d say it will appeal generally
Don't forget to tell me what you think of it will you. See if our tastes in movies still
agree. Fitzpatrick's travelogue on Sydney and Melbourne brought forth cheers
respectively from the New South Welshman and Victorians – END of movie session.
In fact it's the end of my letter, sweetheart, as there's not much more to write about.
Here's a little poem from a soldier to his best girl.
Mountains high and lofty
Oceans wide and deep
I think of you dear Margie
When I should be fast asleep.
That may be a cut out of somebody's autograph book – I can't remember.
Good night Princess and an extra big kiss and love from the guy who parts my hair
every morning. Ever your own, Me.
***
186
29 July 1943. Numbered 18, on air mail letter card, with penny stamp, in ink, with
regimental number, rank, name and unit, censored by Lt. D. C. McAulay.
My Darling Marjorie, I have just finished writing that letter to Anne and I can tell you
it was no mean task to think what to say. You’d better read it to her and fill in. I've
addressed it c/o you because quite possibly Betty it will be in hospital and Anne will
be at Collingwood Street.
How are you dearest? I haven't received a letter from you for a couple of days but
there should be one tomorrow. I answered Norm's letter last night and now I have
Mother's to do to bring my correspondence up-to-date.
It's raining cats and dogs outside – comes on regularly every night and fines up by the
morning.
Nothing much has happened since Tuesday, except that Pross and I have decided to
become stretcher-bearers if necessary. Will tell you more about it later on.
Pross and I weighed ourselves today. He tips the scales at 13 St. 4 llb. an increase
since leaving home I think. I'm a light weight at 11 stone which is a drop of 12 llb. but
I'm feeling fine so it must have been surplus. The food we are getting is good
although not quite like home-cooked cooking and to make up for the lack of fresh
green vegetables we are given vitamin tablets. Quite frequently we have lettuces and
radishes so really we are not doing too badly, are we?.
The leave boys are not back yet so there is no further news about my lot. I'm still
hoping that I will be there to help you carve the Christmas poultry.
I was very surprised to see the size of Anne's operation, (Norma drew it in her last
letter). How does she feel about it – I can imagine her little face screwing up when
she was having it dressed. It must be rather painful at times.
I forgot to tell you that my little "once in a while" from Innisfail is sending me a cake.
Not a bad effort for the old gentleman, eh?
Well, sweetheart, that about brings me to the end for tonight. I haven't moved out of
the area for nearly a fortnight and that makes it pretty tough to scratch up even a few
lines of news.
Good night, darling and may your dreaming be the the sweetest. Love and extra
special kisses, always your loving husband, Me
PS. Remember our trip to Carlingford in the green Chev. G.
***
31 July 1943. Numbered 18, on ACF unlined letter pad, with regimental number,
Rank name and unit censored by Lt. D. C. McAulay
My Darling Wife, The telegram Norma sent on July 27 announcing the arrival of little
stranger reached me yesterday – one day before your letter which was posted the
187
same day. I also have number 16 (July 24) to answer. This one was opened by the
censor – hence the delay.
As soon as I heard the good news, I lodged a wire to Bet, addressing it to 27
Collingwood Street for the sake of speed. By this time, I suppose Mother and
daughter will be at home and all the Aunties etc will be fussing around as usual. Of
course someone will say that Helen is like Betty and there will be an argument when
someone else sees Bill's likeness in her. The main thing, though, is the fact that both
are well and everyone is happy. Bill will have to shout the boys a round of drinks, I
understand such luxuries are obtainable at Darwin. If he can't get beer maybe he'll be
able to get a hold of some "jungle juice". I have heard many stories about the latter
and secret stills are supposed to be plentiful here but personally, I think it's a lot of
hooey – or very elusive. Actually the non-existence of beer doesn't bother anyone
much beyond the casual feeling "a good beer would go well now" . That’s my
reaction, anyway.
You seem to be sitting up late night's doing that pen pushing – it's a good time isn't it.
Nobody to disturb your thoughts. Be careful to keep yourself well wrapped up darling
or you'll never get rid of that cold, sweetheart.
I haven't been doing so much pick and shovel work lately as the camp is just about
remade. Still on the pills and a long route march every day to keep fit.
We had a couple of alerts recently but nothing happened so evidently they were
intercepted. Work goes on as usual and some disappointment is registered when the
boys know it's all off because they are running short of material for souvenir making.
Ding Dong has gone to the pictures tonight – I'll have to leave his poems until another
time.
Dulce told me that you two were due for another blood transfusion but it's just as well
to postpone it if you're not feeling well with your cold. When you do go, why not
mention that you’ve had a pretty tiring time lately and ask if they could recommend a
tonic or give you a prescription to have made up. They should be pleased to be able to
help you.
Tell Bet not to cut things so finely next time – still it's better that way isn't it? I’ll
remember you owe me sixpence and collect when I come home.
Good night, dear Princess – and don't put Helen in my bed. Love to Anne, Mum, Dad
Norma and old Liz. For you a big kiss and hug, always Your, Me
PS please excuse this letter – the hurricane is flickering like mad. I think you are the
answer to a prayer. G.
***
188
August 1943.
Activities around Rigo and Rouna MDS
1 August 1943. On Lettercard with penny stamp, numbered 19, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, censored by Lt A/C McAulay.
Marjorie Dearest, It's picture night tomorrow and also my turn to write but so you
won't miss out and I’ll see the show I'm answering your letter of July 27 now.
Incidentally it was opened by the censor at base.
I've been lounging around the tent today (rest day) doing a bit of washing and sewing
– mostly sleeping though. This hot weather makes me feel very drowsy. Pross went
down to have a look at the football match between our lads and another unit. They
were beaten in the last few minutes by one try – which is a good effort considering
they had no practice and the other team is considered the best in the area with some
first grade players.
You will have your time out with the new baby and Anne to look after. It's just as
well Betty is at Secoombe and that you don't have to run around catching buses or
trams. She should be well treated down there as you know all the nurses so well. I
wonder if Anne will feel put out when the baby comes home? She's such a loving
little girl I suppose she’ll get a kick out of fussing around with it (her).
I hope Dad is gaining his strength again and is able to sit up and take a little
nourishment. He’ll have to put cotton wool in his ears when baby starts to exercise
her lungs.
Mother wrote me about Pop's accident and she seems rather worried about him. Marje
darling next time you see Mother, try to persuade her to have her eyes attended to.
She must be almost blind with her old specs. I told her Pross and I would take care of
the expense, so you find out how much the bill amounts to.
Nortoft would be very cosy on those cold winter nights you are having in Sydney.
Still it would be good anywhere in NSW with you sweetheart.
Have you heard anything from the Treleaven's lately? It might be advisable to give
them a ring on the ‘phone and find out if everything is okay. They may need
reminding that the napthelene should be replaced frequently and you could ask them
to check up on borers. It would be a pity to let that furniture be ruined because of
neglect. I will be glad when we have it under our own roof won't you? All my love
darling. That date with a guy in green is okay. George.
***
189
3 August 1943. On ACF airmail writing block, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Lt. D C McAulay.
My dearest Marjorie, I didn't get a letter from you today but the old Liz came good.
She seems very pleased with herself and very definite about certain things. To which I
reply "Phooey" – because ain't she said same before?
I had a game of circlos after mess night and I just about dripped away. It sure is a hot
game for this climate – think another shower is indicated before bedtime, and don't
misunderstand me, the dog soap is not required.
You were asking what the food was like. Well, today's diet has been something out of
the ordinary – almost as good as a civilian's. For breakfast I had porridge, two pieces
of toast and marmalade followed by a piece of fruit cake. At lunch there was corned
mutton, tomatoes, radishes and lettuce, supplemented by tinned peas and cream (from
canteen). I almost forgot to tell you the star turn – real fresh butter. Lady, if you
haven't tasted fresh butter in weeks, you'll have an idea how delicious it is when it
comes to light. Icecream on the hottest day can't be compared with it for flavour. I
could have eaten it without bread. Then for tea we had mutton chops, peas and sweet
corn on the cob with gravy, followed by plum pudding and custard. So you see it's
been a red letter day for the boys. In addition Pross and I were handed a piece of apple
tart with a dob of mock cream on top – we were painting a safe up near the officer's
mess at the time. All this brings to my mind the lovely grilled steaks we used have at
"Nortoft" and water that sometimes boiled away while keeping my dinner hot.
Remember? Of course, dear you couldn't forget the appetising glass of sherry that
always preceded such banquets.
Last night we saw "You can’t Take it with You". You and I saw that together many,
many years ago didn't we? Not a bad show. The rest of the programme was made up
of shorts including Fitzpatrick on Hawaii. When Mr Patterson comes across with that
trip to America, we’ll spend a couple of days or weeks there. I like the place.
Teen wrote to me and gave me all the news on Huntley's Point etc. The two boys
seem to be growing into giants and doing pretty well at school. A good time is
promised for the wanderers when they return – so you will have to be in it.
Darling you have been getting all the bad "breaks" lately but cheer up. There are good
times coming. (The remainder of last page is illegible because ink from reverse of
page seeps through.)
***
4 August 1943. On pink unlined good-quality writing pad paper, in ink with
regimental number marked No: 21, censored by Lt DC McAulay
My Darling Marjorie, As anticipated to letters came from you today, July 29 and 31.
Thank you sweetheart and kids for sending the rubber sacks for my pen. The larger
one of the two fitted it quite well and my writing may improve from now. I hope so
190
anyway, for your sake. You are a marvel, the way you keep your lines so straight and
evenly spaced. Typewriters spoiled me long ago.
I guess the little blondie would be staying with you while Mummy is in "Secoombe" –
she certainly takes after Bill as far as chattering goes but I don't think Auntie Marj
minds that much. She must be bubbling over with joy with all the attention she's
getting. I had to suppress a smile when Bet said the new babe was a funny looking
little cuss and that you were in raptures over her looks. Usually it's the Mother who
tells the unheeding universe that her's is the best looking child ever born. Still under
the thin veil of words, I could distinguish Liz's feeling of satisfaction about the looks
of the latest addition to the family. The big SKITE.
News of your Dad seems a bit brighter – he has no reason in the world for feeling that
way about his illness. Hope he’s more cheery and is up and doing again. Perhaps with
the coming of the warmer weather, he'll feel brighter.
That cold of yours needs careful attention darling, or you'll be in sick bay yourself.
You’ve had it too long and I'm inclined to think you are neglecting it. Wouldn't think
that Granny Seagrove had written that, but just the same, I ain't kiddin’.
New Guinea's all right, "presh", (Dulcie's idiom) but confidentially “it stinks”.
Malaria and other tropical diseases are more to be feared than Nip bombers. However
the situation appears to be under control and there is no need for anxiety.
Tonight there is an amplifier unit in camp and we’re getting a dose of swing for
supper. Frank is down near it with his ears back, wishing, I suppose he was at
Romanos with a little bit of cuddle in his arms. Pross is sitting opposite me scratching
away with his pen. My supply of paper is getting low -- this is the last of a few sheets
Mother sent me some time ago. We are due for a comfort parcel any day now and
there is always a writing pad included, I believe. Failing that I'll have to make a trip to
the "Sally" hut for something to write on. Don't bother about sending any though as
the shortage is only temporary.
I bet you'll hair is still as pretty as ever with the sunlight adding the shining highlights
to its softness. Gosh, doesn't that bring back memories of the good old days on the
back lawn when you used to mix hair-drying with a bit of sun baking.
I'm glad you liked the ring – if you rubbed it with some sand soap and finished it off
with plate powder some of the scratches would disappear.
The Red Cross took a fair amount of manipulating to place in position and cut out –
with poor files and a razor blade. However even though I say it myself, it wouldn't be
a bad design for the Blood Bank section of the Red Cross to adopt for rings to be
given to female donors, would it? Did they give you a badge or something to wear?
Not that I think you'd want anything like that to show off but being advertising
minded I think it would help to publicize the cause, don't you?
About Mother's cough mixture in small doses, Pross and I decided to blitz our "colds"
and to say the least, it was exhilarating. Such luxuries are actually more precious than
gold in these parts.
191
Which reminds me of Torr’s, flu – how's the old son of a gun doin’! He’s lucky to
have two such charming nurses to look after him.
Marjorie dearest, when we settle down again you’ll have the prettiest little house that
you could imagine. Including a lavender walk with a fountain and all. I saw a picture
of Bette Davis's home, nothing very extravagant, but small and comfortable looking
with plenty of big windows and a modified English style of roof. We’ll have to see if
we can find out more about it for our house patterns file.
It's a pity I can’t send some tobacco for Dad but still if he has decided to give it up,
perhaps it's just as well. After one breaks himself of diving for a cigarette every few
minutes he's better off financially and physically I think. That's why I've cut ‘em out.
Oh yeh!
Now I’ll say good night, sweet darling with all my love and kisses, Always Your –
Me.
PS. Kisses for Anne and all the family, too. G.
***
6 August 1943. On ACF airmail letterhead, in ink, with regimental number, Censor’s
signature illegible, numbered 22.
My dearest Marjorie, Tonight I'm on duty at the generator – with my ears stuffed up
with cotton wool to shut out the noise. One thing about this job, it gives me a good
chance to get through my correspondence – it's noisy but there are no interruptions.
I'm not like Dorothy Parker. Remember how she had a sign reading "Gentleman"
painted and hung outside her office so that she would be sure of being interrupted
many times while she was writing her stories ("While Rome Burns")
How is my reporter gal, tonight? I received your August 2 letter this morning and in it
you said that you and Dulce were going into Sydney Hospital on Wednesday (last) for
another blood transfusion. Your cold wouldn't help any so I'm wondering how it
affected you and whether you are well, tonight. Darling, I’m lucky to have such a
wonderful little wife and I'm very proud of her. Dulce is a Briton too – especially as
she had such a bad trot last time.
Pross has gone to the pictures tonight with the lads. "Roxy Hart" is the feature-should be worth seeing. I may go tomorrow night to break the monotony. That’s one
thing we never had to do when we were in each other's company, is it?
The news from Sicily and Russia certainly makes the position look brighter, I think,
but there's a lot to be done before the end comes into sight. Still you never can tell.
There may be a sudden collapse as happened in the last war. Once Germany is beaten,
Japan will slump like a wet sock. Can you imagine the joy when the boys come
marching home?
I feel that I owe Anne a great deal for being such a comfort to you – you'll never
know what that has meant to me. Often, I try to picture what you are doing and when
192
you tell me that Anne has been with you I know you’ve had a happy time. Perhaps
one day she’ll get a kick out of being told about her war effort.
Marjorie darling you don't have to thank me for the present – I'm the one who gets the
most enjoyment. You seem very pleased with your choice, so I bet it’s something
you‘ve been admiring for some time
Col Bell is up in the hills at present but I'll give him that message next time he comes
down and ask him for a copy of his poem for you to read.
Teen's parcel arrived yesterday and everything was intact. She sent a few things
which must be very hard to get in Sydney and much more easy and cheaper to buy
here. Cigarette papers, toothbrushes, shaving cream, aspirins are always available so
I'll have to write and tell her. I'm mentioning this for your information, too. It must be
difficult trying to figure out what to send and it's the same this end. We never know
when there's going to be a change in this position.
I also received a cake and some tobacco from my little sweetie in Innesfail. Don't you
think that was very kind of her? Unfortunately, I can't buy anything here to send her
to show my appreciation and I'm wondering if it would be okay to send a postal note
and let her buy something for herself. They are just country folk and not by any
means well off as far as I can make out. What do you think?
There are hundreds of queer looking insects flying around me tonight dear, so I think
I’ll get out and let them take over. Good night sweetheart and thanks for the extra
special. Love and kisses George.
PS. Your words on the back of the letter are better than all the poetry in the world and
I understand just what they mean. So long, Princess, Me.
***
8 August 1943. On ACF letterhead, lined quarto pad, in ink, with regimental number,
censored but name not legible.
Dearest Marjorie, Today was set down as my rest day – and I don't think I've had a
more strenuous in my life. This morning three of us started out for a native village
about 17 miles away – hitch-hiking. We jumped aboard a ration truck which nearly
shook the daylights out of us and dropped us only halfway. Right in the middle of
nowhere and not another truck in sight. We took to shanks's ponies and hoofed for a
mile and then along came an Aussie "Blitz" with a load of soldiers packed in like
sardines. But they pulled up and made room for us and the track went under the
wheels like the "Crazy Walk" at the show, for the next 8 miles. After the roughest trip
I ever had, we eventually arrived at our destination. A native village built on piles off
shore. The streets between the rows of huts are just the old Pacific Ocean and the
traffic is a fleet of boong lakatois very much like catamarangs (spelling?) or native
outriggers. They are carved out a big tree trunks much the same as Indian canoes. We
were greeted by hundred of black kid's, ages ranging from two years to about 15.
Most of them speak English well enough to be understood, especially "Gimme
penny" and "two bob" it seems, two bob is the joy of their lives. Several of them came
up to us with two single shillings to exchange for "florin" and yet they don't appear to
193
regard money in the same light as we do. All of them play "two up", drawing the ring
in the sand with a stick and tossing the coins as well as any "dinky die".
If you don't come across with any dough, the general cry is for Kai (food), candy, PK
or smokes which shows the American influence. OK is a common expression with
them. The girls wear grass skirts or bright coloured material, leaving the tops of their
bodies bare as the men do. Their skins are tattooed all over and quite a few wear
metal ornaments as well as the usual beads and shells. One lass whom I should say is
the belle of the village has a print frock properly made – she's a half caste with long
black hair and not a bad little sort, of course, in typical American-style, a Yank asked
her to take off her clothes to be photographed with him but she shook her head very
definately.
On the beach there is an altar with primitive carvings of weird looking creatures and
nearby a Christian church and mission school. I think these people are now
Protestants. Just before we left, the church service had begun with the whole of the
adult population in attendance in their Sunday best. Out of their town on the water
they had come, sometimes more than 15 to a lakatoi.
However it was time for us to leave so we couldn't attend the service.
Coming back a New Guinea downpour hit us and you can imagine what that did to
the track. Four times the truck bogged and travelled crabwise all the way. Fortunately
it was a GMC three-tonner with the winch attachment, otherwise I'm sure we would
have spent half the night digging it out. It took three hours to cover the 17 miles and
we were drenched to the skin. For the first time in many weeks I was really chilled –
now I remember what Sydney is like in winter.
Which brings me to your letter of August 4 from this morning's mail I'm sorry the
wire to Betty raised false hopes dear, but when I'm coming home you'll get an urgent
wire. When that will be, I haven't the faintest idea. Perhaps it will be sooner than
many expect judging by the war news of late. Americans are clinging to the idea that
this war will be over by Christmas 44 – let's pray that they are right.
In regard to my little North Queensland lassie – she has seen not more than 15
summers – she's a pretty kid, blonde and cute and she has a boyfriend. I'm her dear
pen friend in New Guinea who finds it extremely difficult to find something to write
about. By the way I had another letter from Joan (St Ives) – these women go for me in
a big way. Personally I prefer them about 18 years of age or thereabouts but then, I
suppose, Poppa would be asking me what were my intentions.
There not anything more to say tonight darling except that I love you more as time
goes on. Keep the old chin up sweetheart, take good care of yourself and remember
those good times we planned are not so far off. With all my love and kisses, extra
special. Always Your, Me.
PS. There's a river falling from the sky tonight – hope the tent can take it. G
***
194
August 10, 1943. Number 23, . On ACF letterhead, lined quarto pad, in ink, with
regimental number, censored by Capt. A S Henderson NX122033
My darling Marjorie, My stars must be favourable for today I received four letters.
I'm having a shot at answering all tonight as tomorrow there'll be music in the camp.
Bruce told me that "Auntie Marjorie" is as beautiful as ever (don't repeat) and Norma
said you three girls were asked to show your identity cards on one occasion which
was flattering. My reply to that is "I told you so". Glad to hear you have got rid of
your cold and that you're feeling in the pink. I have sniffles a bit tonight and have
been doctoring myself up with Linc. Camp. and aspirins. It's just a slight cold from
that drive in the rain on Sunday and it should pass in a couple of days.
Tel Bett to keep her shirt on – she'll have plenty to keep her occupied in the coming
months and they'll soon slip away. I suppose it will be a wrench if Ida and Greg
"strike" the tent but that is to be expected in the circumstances. By the way, I like the
baby's name Susan Elizabeth but in future we'll have to use it as a hyphenated
Christian name to avoid confusion with Susan the first, won't we?
Thoughts of your former worries over the red feltex at "Nortoft" always seem to
linger in your mind, darling. Forget about it – we'll get something that won't show the
dust marks when we set up house again – perhaps a parquette floor.
I can imagine my "sugar" bursting into your quiet evening with her bubblling over
vitality after her PT on a winter's night. It's a wonder she went alone. If I remember
correctly the lass never ventured further than the front door (solo) in days gone by.
My advice about an escort on such trips goes for her, too.
Last night I went along to the pictures and saw Costello and Abbott in "Pardon my
Sarong". Well, if you like Keystone Kops type of humour, you would have screamed
your head off. As far as I'm concerned they're just a couple of slapstick comedians
who bore me stiff. Charlie Chaplin's pie throwing would be funnier and that would hit
a new low in these days of Bob Hope, Marx Brothers, Gracie and George Burns etc.
The other show was "The Big Boss", (Otto Kruger) – fair entertainment. Incidentally,
"Pardon my Sarong" has a pretty fair exhibition of beautiful torsos and a sequence
including "the Four Ink Spots" in a bracket of numbers which has no bearing on the
story. Those parts are the only worthwhile things in the film. (My opinion of course
not shared by C&A fans).
Yesterday a truck brought a boong in the hospital, suffering from snake-bite. He was
in a bad way as his mates had been drilling holes in him to let out the venom and he'd
lost a lot of blood. Evidently that is the natives way of curing snake-bite poisoning but
the patient must always die as far as I can make out. However, the MO's went to work
on him and a couple of our lads gave their blood and they had the oxygen apparatus
on him for a few hours. But it was too late and he gradually slipped away. Someone
said that the two boongs sitting outside the hospital tent were his father and brother –
they didn't show any signs of emotion when the blanket was pulled over. Perhaps they
don't show it outwardly.
195
Not a very cheery subject is it? Still it's the first fatal case we've had for a long time
and it's news as the saying goes.
Now, my darling, I'll say good night once again and wish you happy dreams. All my
love and kisses, Always Your, Me
PS. Norma must have thought I might come home unexpectedly when she left you. I
wish your wish about me would come true, too. G
***
12 August 1943. On ACF letterhead, quarto sized, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Lt DC McAulay.
My darling Marjorie, It's raining again and it's very muggy always after tea and pills. I
feel like a washed out sock but as the night draws on the temperature drops slightly so
it's not so bad. So far that's the case anyhow.
Pross received Judy's wire a few minutes ago with the news that Mr More had died
suddenly. I hadn't known that he suffered from some stomach complaint until Pross
told me. He treated the three boys very decently I think, and had their interests at
heart. Pross said the last time he called in at the works, the old chap made him very
welcome and treated him more like a father. We were talking over things the other
night and Pross had made up his mind to drop him a line but like me he keeps putting
this letter-writing off and now it’s too late and he is sorry. However, he'll write to Mr
Hind or one of the family – I expect Mother will have sent a wreath on his behalf.
My cold has almost disappeared thank goodness. As a matter of fact I don't think I've
recovered so quickly in all my life. Whether that is accounted for by the climate or the
special tablets I'm taking I can't say. I hope it's the tablets giving me better resistance
to all those sorts of ailments.
I missed out on mail today sweetheart – that is the reaction after receiving four on
Tuesday, no doubt. My bet is dollars to peanuts there’ll be a few for me tomorrow,
though. I forgot to tell you – the two issues of Pix and the Women's Weekly reached
me yesterday. Thank you, darling.
Business around this part of the globe is much the same. Haven't done in a driving for
weeks, which doesn't worry me much. We've been doing lectures in first aid lately as
well as getting our bodies in first class condition. I'm taking on a nice tan – big bronze
digger. And when I say digger I mean it.
In the lines there are three circlos courts and the boys are pretty keen on the game.
Remember how we used to play on the back lawn. Dulce always screamed the loudest
to outdo the squeals coming from Mrs Boon's croquet party, next door.
Last night about six of us took our stools under our arms and hied us away down to
the mobile amplifier for a little swing session. The love songs made me think of you
and my bathroom serenading (Olwyn liked my crooning, didn't she or did she?).
Now, Princess I’ll cut the cackle and say Goodnight. God bless you, dearest, and keep
you safe and well. A big kiss and hug from, Your loving husband, Me
196
14 August 1943. On Lettercard with penny stamp in ink, numbered 24, with
regimental number, censored by Capt. J H Richards, NX77286
Marjorie Darling, I'm scratching out this note in the middle of the day as tonight the
Marx Bros are coming to town and you know I couldn't miss those boys. Two of your
letters came today after a break of four days without mail. As usual there’s nothing
much to write about – nothing exciting has happened. (Apparent censorship by
excision of following passage)
We’ve a lot to be thankful for but time and conditions are the only things that will
prove that so nobody will take unnecessary risks. I hate to think of you feeling lonely
on Sat. nights, darling. I feel that way too sometimes and I wonder how long the war
will last. Wishful thinking doesn't speed it up but at least it gives us something to
cling to.
About the money you owe me on that bet, I'll keep you up to it when I get home, so
don't worry about it
Pross's very fit, likewise yours truly. Which reminds me I haven't written to Ma for a
week or so – she always likes to hear how Pross is – so tell her he’s putting on weight
– condition not fat. I'll drop a line tomorrow. Also Norma, the sweet little thing. If she
starts bullying I'll deal with her summarily.
Now Darling, I’ll say goodbye and answer letters tomorrow night when the ACF
hands me some writing paper.
Remember that tall fair headed bloke you are going to meet in the room on the left of
the top flight of stairs at 27 – he’s got a date "somewhere in “NG" after lights out
tonight. Hope you won't "stand me up" sweetheart darling. Always your, Me.
***
15 August 1943. On ACF letterhead, quarto sized, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Lt DC McAulay.
My darling wife, Now I shall attempt to answer your two letters August 7 and 9. I
rushed you a Lettercard yesterday as I wanted to see the Marx Bros, you remember.
The show was "At the Circus" an old one which we saw together sometime ago. Still I
enjoyed it. Groucho, with his black paint moustachio and eyebrows and bent legs
never fails to tickle my fancy. I hope we can see their latest picture together.
Dad has the same idea as I have about new babies. How anyone can see anything
beautiful in them is beyond me – but when they grow to such beautiful creatures (the
girl ones, of course) we’ll now, that's different. Susan Elizabeth can't fail to be a
heart-breaker with a name like that.
197
Pross got a shock when he heard of Mr More's death – but as far as his position goes
there shouldn't be any change. I suppose Mr Hind will carry on the business.
I feel happy when I know you are well darling and not worrying too much. We can't
do much about those little heartaches accept just grin and pray they won't last long.
We'll make up for lost time when it's all over and have the time of our lives, won't
we?
Don't forget to give Auntie Cis my love when you see her. In case she ever wants to
get rid of her small occasional chairs, you’d better admire them, said who has an eye
for good furniture. As far as Lucy is concerned she can chuck her hat in the river
without taking it off her head anytime she likes. If she wants to help to do that she can
call on me.
The second lot of leave getters are not back yet. I'm afraid that even when they do we
won't know much more for a while.
Today I went on an exploring expedition but everything went wrong and I didn't get
very far. Set out about 7 o'clock and returned at 4 PM tired and hungry and with
backache which I still have. So now I think I'll go and have a spine bash.
Good night Sweetheart and the sweetest dreams to you. I can hardly wait for all those
lovely things you speak about. All my special kind of love and kisses. Ever your
loving husband, George.
***
17 August 1943 On ACF letterhead, quarto sized, in ink, with regimental number,
numbered 27, censored by Lt DC McAulay.
My dearest Marjorie, I have two of your letters to answer tonight August 10 and 11 –
one arrived yesterday and the other today. By the way the number 27 at the top of this
page is just a guess, I've lost count again but you'll know if my letters have gone
astray, which is unlikely.
I'm glad to hear your two little girlfriends are giving you a good time – they must
keep you busy though. As long as you are feeling well and happy there's nothing for
me to worry about.
Frank said to thank you for your kind thoughts and he suggests we may make up a
party for an afternoon at Romano’s when we get home. If all these plans are to come
to anything you and I will be having a hectic time for a while wont we? First of all
though, we're going to have a darn good holiday by ourselves, as before.
It will be many, many years before you need that beauty cream, darling – you have
never looked older than 18 to me or anyone else. And that ain't hay, baby. Maybe you
know the secret of perpetual youth or something.
198
The censor opened your last letter, darling and read all the endearing remarks in it but
that needn't worry you because after the first few hundred all letters become
impersonal to him. I know from my experience with Clements Tonic testimonials and
Colgate's competitions. Incidentally, incoming letters are censored on the mainland
and not here, of course.
How is Betty's normal figure? I have to know because I have a date with her while
you look after the kids. If her legs are too slim, she'd better turn the calves out in the
corn for a spell and massage the dimples back into her lovely knees. And do you
remember the night of Dulce's party when the young mother danced with the "cave"
men. That mustn't happen when Liz and I go to town.
I couldn't forget our last day on the river, darling and even though I ruined my watch
swimming for the boat, I'm glad to have the memory of that happy day. I received a
letter from Mother yesterday and she has promised to go in to have her eyes tested
again. Don't let her keep putting it off, dear as it must be a misery being half-blind all
the time. Tell her to go to a good optometrist in the city and not to mess around with
any of these half-baked guys. The expense doesn't matter.
I didn't see "The Rose of Washington Square" last night as I was detailed for duty at
the last moment. Pross said it was quite a good show. Think I'll have to chop down
my visits to the pictures because they make me feel a bit homesick. Still, if we didn't
have them, I think we’d all go "troppo" and get very cranky and bored to death.
Seeing the same faces, doing the same things month after month is enough to try even
the best nature, isn't it? There's only one little face I want to see every day and all the
time. Guess whose?
Good night my darling and God bless you. How I would love to kiss your little red
mouth again but as that's not possible for a while you'll just have to consider it done.
Love, George
PS. I don't know about hansome but the tall fair ambulance driver, gladly accepts your
invitation to go dreaming. G.
***
19 August 43. On ACF letterhead, quarto sized, in ink, with regimental number,
numbered 27censor’s signature illegible.
My Darling Marjorie, Thursday today, that means you'll be starting on your weekly
spring-cleaning. Just about now you'd be chasing the Hoover around and probably
laughing at Anne's dismay. Is she still scared of vacuum cleaners?
Your mag-note (soldier's term for letter) August 13 came in this morning's mail and
whilst enjoying a "smoko" I've decided to reply to it. Write a couple of pages,
anyway.
The Huntley's Point family should have a good time on the Clarence. Old Bill Searle
has a big house and farm on Esk Island – oranges, bananas and all kinds of tropical
fruits growing in the garden. He’s the typical "Dad" of Steele Rudd's famous stories,
big and bluff, with a white beard. Norman, David and Mary will have a great time
199
riding the ponies and taking the boat out to fish. The river used be teeming with fish –
when I was there I mean.
Life up here is pretty monotonous (I’ve said that a 100 times) but those little Sunday
trips I've told you about help to fill in the time. Actually there's not much difference in
any of these places except that those where the Western influence is least are the most
interesting. I certainly wouldn't pick New Guinea for a good holiday resort even in
normal times. Grass skirts are not very plentiful but they can always be obtained at
10/- a time. They are not worth more than 5/- and even then they are not as thick as
the ones that hula dancers wear. I'm keeping my eyes open for a good one for you as a
souvenir.
Norma and Bruce are getting all the breaks, aren't they? Just be sure that they don't
break all the sofa springs because I’ll want to have a spine—bash on it myself one of
those days. Do remember all the good possies we used to have and the competition
among Doug-Dulce, Bill-Betty and ourselves for the couch? Norm seems to have the
field uncontested. I've got memories to prove we were way out ahead of any of them
as far as the picked spots were concerned. What say you, Princess?
Yesterday afternoon we had a political meeting among the lads. Just for amusement.
Labour, UAP, Communist, Capitalist and soldier's parties were represented. Frank
was the United Soldiers Party candidate and he had the crowd in gales of laughter all
the time. Frank advocates that Yanks and Aussies should be on the same rates of pay
to eliminate the sheila's preference for the Yanks. Also a bottle of beer be provided
every half-hour for troops in N.G. It takes about that time to lose a pint of moisture
through the skin. Instead of carrying rifles, each man should be supplied with two
bottles of beer to be carried under each arm when going into the firing line. He
promised that leave would be granted every four months – and the Ninth Australian
Field Ambulance should get it immediately. Compassionate leave for all soldiers
having babies, with preference for the legitimate over the illegitimate. In fact his
government would make this world a soldier's paradise. I'm sure he would go in with
an overwhelming majority at the poll.
The election will be over by the time this letter reaches you and I'm tipping that
Labour will be returned with about the same number of members, which is as it
should be in my opinion.
Of course I think there should be a National Government to represent all sections of
the community but there doesn't seem much hope for that.
It's now almost tea time and our usual evening storm is approaching. So it looks like
an early night in bed for the troops. Maybe I'll read for a while.
Now, sweetheart darling, I'll say g’bye with an extra special kiss and all my love.
Yours as ever, George (Small PS section either torn off or deleted by censor).
***
200
21 August 1943. On quarto sized lined writing pad, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Capt A.S. Henderson NX122033.
My darling Marjorie, I've just broken off for a "smoko" which gives me a few
minutes to scribble you a note. Tonight there's a concert on somewhere around the
area and I may go to have a look at it. I'm not extra keen on them. Most of their stuff
is a bit hackneyed and depends entirely on crude type of humour for laughs. Not that I
profess to be a saint but it gets tiresome after a while.
Ginger Rogers and Ray Milland's "The Major and the Minor" is the show of the year
– saw it last night. The rain started about 4 o'clock in the afternoon but we were
feeling fed up with the place so decided to go anyway. And when we got back we
were feeling a lot brighter. I won't tell you anything about the show because it would
spoil it for you – but don't miss it if you want a good laugh. Ginger Rogers is a
lovable character and I think it's her best show to date. Do you remember how much
you and I enjoyed "It happened one Night" – well, you will come away with the same
feeling as that when you see this picture, – if I'm any judge of your tastes.
The mail truck has just arrived so I'll stop here and find out if there's a letter for me.
Also I have to work and vote – will continue at lunch-time.
LATER. Two letters from you, darling written on August 15 and 16 – one was opened
by the censor. Sunday night at 27 sounds like heaven especially after the visitors take
their departure. Dad still hobbles up the stairs, I suppose, with Mum following up in
the rear with her hands full and trying not to make any noise.
My cold has disappeared and the body's pretty well except for an occasional backache
which is probably caused by backless forms and stools. Pross has itchy lumps on his
neck, arms and legs – hives I think. Quite a few of the boys have the same complaint
as a matter-of-fact – so I suppose something they are eating is not agreeing with them.
Most likely tinned fruit, says the MO. However Pross has nothing to worry about,
except an uncomfortable itch and that should go in a day or two.
I was pleased to hear you got a kick out of "Road to Morocco". The song "Moonlight
becomes you" is a pleasing melody isn't it, and Dotty sure makes a good job of
singing it, doesn't she. It always reminds me of floral satin in pastel shades and –
"Nortoft".
Leave for us has a big query mark alongside it. Some units have been in New Guinea
for anything up to 20 months, which doesn't look so good for us. Still circumstances
alter cases and we might be home inside the 12 months. Keep on hoping for it
anyway.
I haven't written to Cec for quite some time – it's a problem to know what to say,
other than what I put in Mother's letters, which you read. Pross keeps him supplied
with all the scandal and vice versa and I keep my fan-mail going. Perhaps I'd better
give him a description of the native girls and make him wish he was here with us.
I haven't located Mac yet although we came into contact with the Air Force recently.
He may not be around these parts, of course
201
There’s usually a reference to Bill Farnsworth's figure in the Office Bulletin but I
haven't heard about the beard. I bet he looks like a beachcomber.
No news from Mitch lately – his address is the same as far as I know.
Are you still receiving copies of "Man" each month? If so will you send them to me in
future as they seem to be popular with the lads. Mitch won't mind much I'm sure. I
thought they had cut me off their free marketing list and if that's not the case I should
write to Ken Murray to thank him for his kind thoughts.
Now darling I'll say goodbye until next time. Pross sends his love and says to tell you
the war wont last longer than 10 years or so. (I think, next year will see the end). My
love to all the family, extra special kind for you with a big hug and two Austinmer
kisses to follow. Always Your, Me.
PS. Regarding your remarks on back of last page of your letter, I remember clearly
the difficulties I had with Ding Dong's wedding present from Norma. By the way Col
has his hair clipped close to his scalp. He called in yesterday and specially asked to be
remembered to you. His little Annie always sends kind regards to me and he is still
thrilled to pieces with his ball and chain. Love, George.
***
23 August 1943. On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, in ink, regimental number
supplied, censored by Capt. A.S. Henderson NX 122033
My darling Marjorie, At ten past six tonight there's a truck going to the pictures. It's
now about ten to six and I want to hurry this note through so please overlook mistakes
if any and breaks.
Your letter number 30 (August 18) came this morning. I haven't checked with your
last to see if the numbering is correct but it doesn't matter anyway.
The little picture of you snuggling up in my dressing gown before the fire looks very
cosy. I'd go AWL if it were possible just to have a peep through the window.
Dulce certainly does turn on a show for the kids – she ought to have half a dozen of
her own and she’d feel happier still.
Look after your health darling and be sure to dry your feet or leave your socks on
when they get wet. In other words I hope you didn't catch cold in the drenching en
route to Artarmon. Up here the warm climate guards us against the cold germ but in
Sydney – well it's different and ya’ gotta be careful.
The parcel hasn't arrived yet, darling. I'll let you know when it does. Usually it takes a
few weeks.
202
You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble in trying to get those sweets. I asked for
them only because you want to know what was most suitable to include in a parcel to
me.
Have to leave you now sweetheart as time is up. It's hello and goodbye but I'll write
again tomorrow. Love and Kisses, George.
***
24 August 1943. On ACF Letterhead, quarto sized, with regimental number,
numbered 30, in ink, censored by Major T.E.Y. Holcombe
My darling Marjorie, Yesterday's Lettercard was written extra quickly and it was
intended only as a stopgap. So it doesn't count – hence this letter.
For a wonder it hasn't rained today – not yet anyway. The sun has been blazing down
and as usual I've been wet through with perspiration, (the right word is sweat) all day.
But the shower before tea makes all the difference and the night is cooling down
gradually. Everything is quiet except for the noise of a truck now and then – or Nick's
groan when he loses a hand at poker.
I had a drive yesterday in one of the utilities – that's my only go at the wheel in seven
weeks. And it felt like taking a trip on the dodge-em at Manly. However, not being a
driver doesn't cause me much concern and probably Pross and I will be medical
orderlies before long. We are looking forward to doing the real job.
Last night we went to the pictures and saw "Always in my Heart", a pre--release I
believe and it's a very good show. Water Huston and Kay Francis and a new Durbin
with the handle Gloria Warren – take the leads. You would like it, there are a few
touching scenes that tug at the heart-strings but the comedy is refreshing and most of
it is handled by a youngster about five years old or less – don't know her name
The other picture was an oldster "They new what they wanted" (Charles Laughton
and Carol Lombard). Not bad but a bit overdrawn in characterization.
Movies give me something to write about as well as serving to fill in time at night –
don't think that I'm becoming a regular suburbanite fan. Violet Skuthorpe or her father
haven't reached these shores yet, so I've got to stick to the galloping photographs. I
think I could stand a lot of them now though – if I could have you at my side and hold
your hand in the dark. It seems ages since those days, sweetheart.
Yesterday there was a letter from Anne29. By jove, she writes well for a child of her
age. On the last page should she drew pictures of Susan, (complete with "specs") and
herself, (with pigtails spread-eagle) and blue-birds and flowers in full colours. She
said, Norman won't show me around the buildings at Newington because he's afraid
that boys might think I'm his girlfriend, (she thinks). David will step into the breach –
he doesn't care what they say. Looks like David’s going to be a tiger for the girls,
doesn't it.
203
Now let's talk about YOU. How are you darling? I hope you're taking good care of
yourself and are not too down-hearted. When you feel a bit blue, always think about
the good times we had together and how much lovelier it will be when we begin to
live them all over again. We’ll be like a couple of kids on their honeymoon – better
than that as a matter of fact. I can hardly wait for those days but there's nothing we
can do about it. So chin up, darling girl, and everything will come out right in the end.
The election results seem to be quite satisfactory taking them as a whole. You can
imagine how elated I was when I saw that Captain Beetroot -Face Lee polled so few
votes – that should put him in the discard forever as far as politics are concerned. I
wonder how he'd like a job in one of New Guinea's hot-spots. I don't know Daly or
anything about him but it doesn't matter much what he's like under the circumstances,
as far as I can see.
And this is where I’ll kiss you good night once again Princess. I've got a new song for
the bathroom serenade, from last night's picture "You are always in my heart – in my
heart you'll always be". And that's how it should be.
All my love and extra special kisses as ever, George
PS. You will gather that I'm still as crazy as ever about you.
***
26 August 1943. On ACF letterhead, quarto sized writing pad, with regimental
number censored by Lt A.D. Dunlop NX 111014.
My darling Marjorie, Another day is over – one day nearer to the big day. It's now 37
weeks 3 days 22 hours and 20 minutes since we said goodbye that Sunday night and it
seems like years. I wonder how much longer it will be before the boys come marching
home.
This morning I received a letter from Mitch, also one from Bruce Tory. Mitch tells me
he's had a trip to Gibraltar – the old globetrotter, (flyer, I should say), is longing to get
back to Aussie. I'll forward on his letter when I've answered it. You were asking for
his address recently – well in a PS he says "Always write c/o Kodak House,
Kingsway, London. This is probably D B Reid's address – a friend of his father’s.
Will you have a look among my papers and see if that’s right?
Now I have your letter of August 19 (number 31) in front of me. Your remarks about
modern Liz's methods intrigued me but details are not wanted. Just leave it to my
imagination.
Looks as if you are in for the job of nurse maid – which is okay as long as it suits you.
Bill shouldn't mind not seeing Susan for the first few months – walking the floor at 3
o'clock in the morning wouldn't be so good with the temperature at record low. Still I
suppose he’s anxious to get home and start living like a human being again just the
same as I am.
I haven't changed over to the new job yet, so I can't tell you anything about it. When
the numbers go up you shall hear the whole story. In the meantime everything goes on
as usual.
204
Darling, I never ask you how you are managing at home, – always take it for granted
that everything is in order when you don't mention anything about them.
I think I told you that the Income Tax Dept sent me a bill for my outstanding taxes of
£34 informing me that they would be held over the for the duration. Very kind of
them, don't you think. I filled in a slip showing my assets were nil, (except the
furniture) and my liabilities plenty. Anything you receive is your own affair and even
if it were lumped with my army pay the deductions would bring the total below the
amount at which taxation becomes payable.
How much do you draw from the army each fortnight? You should be getting 8/6 day
I think. Let me know because I may increase my allotment to you, instead of letting it
pile up in my paybook.
And that's about all for the night Sweetheart. Give my love to your folks, also Auntie
Cis. Good night, Darling and sweet dreams. As ever your, Me. PS. All my special
love and kisses to you of course.
***
28 August 1943. On airmail Lettercard without stamp, with regimental number, in
ink, censored by Lt A.D. Dunlop NX111014.
My darling Marjorie, It Saturday and it's one o'clock and there's a cool breeze
blowing. Reminds me of Collingwood Street after a few beers with Hughie or
someone, I always took in a few deep breaths of the regular nor'easter before entering
the golden gates of 27. You can bet on that breeze in the afternoon, can't you.
This morning Pross and I topped the mail list with four letters. Mine were from you
(two), Sue Callan and the office. I don't know whether you remember Frank O'Brien
who used be with us at GP's. He died a few weeks ago with TB, after five years of
suffering. Old Mase would be very cut up, I suppose, as he and Frank were very
attached to each other. Poor Frank used come over to the Pub with the boys and have
one small beer just to be in it. We would try to cheer him up by saying that his tummy
would be all right in a couple of weeks and I think he really believed us.
I'll deliver your message to Frank Starr when he comes in, but I'm afraid our chances
of getting leave together are pretty remote. In fact, any signs of leave have vanished
for the time being.
It's good to hear you're feeling well and have the babies to keep you occupied. Why
all the glamourizing by Liz? Sounds like she's going out after a conquest. Or does it
mean that her boyfriend from Darwin is coming home? By the way how is he settling
down up there – the papers say Tojo's's boys have been over for a number of visits
lately.
205
Well darling this is not intended to answer your letters – I'll do that little thing
tomorrow – it's just to say "hello" and "goodbye".
All my love and hugs and kisses, As always your, Me.
PS. Your three words on back of letter received. The reply is – me, too. G.
***
30 August 1943. On quarto sized lined writing pad, in ink, numbered 32 with
regimental number, censor’s signature illegible.
My darling Marjorie, I think I promised to write to you yesterday but I was on duty
and didn't return to camp until late last night. Today is my stand-down day and all my
sewing and washing is up-to-date so here goes for a little chinwag.
I'm always thankful to hear you are well even though bored at times. Now that Dad is
right again you'll be able to get out a bit more but don't let Anne and Susan tie you
down. I know that you get a lot of fun looking after them – but you can get too much
of a good thing
Your troubles are mine dear and I wouldn't have a complete picture if you didn't tell
me about them. Remember how I used laugh at you when you tried to spare my
feelings – well I smiled to myself when I read your letter.
Anne's cut is taking a long time to heal isn't it? She's a healthy kid, and by this time, it
should be nothing more than a scar. Perhaps she got a bit run down through having to
stay in bed for some weeks before the operation. Does she still walk around with a
bend in the middle?
Mother tells us that Teen is not too good, either. Hope that doesn't mean they had to
cancel the trip to the Clarence – they'll be feeling like a million after the holiday, I'm
sure.
Another thing I had to laugh at in your letter was your suggestion for the boys to
organise a dance at the village. I can almost picture myself going up to a “Mary
nothing" (pidgin for single girl) then saying "May I have the next, Lola" and Lola,
glamorous in a grass skirt, replying coyly "Yes, Tuppeta (white boss)”. Only it isn't so
romantic as that. The black dames usually have a scaly skin, well tattooed and their
bosoms aren’t anything to write home about otherwise I would have done it before
this. I saw one of these jungle princesses walk down the creek and wash herself. She
threw a couple of handfuls of water over her head and when it seeped through her
fuzzy hair, it ran down her face in rivulets leaving an uneven striped pattern of dirt.
Then she mooched back, drying herself with the palms of her hands and strands of her
grass skirt.
Frank asked one of the native mission boys where he would like to live after the war.
"Sydney", he said "I like him. Plenty of lights". He had been to Sydney at some time.
206
That reminds me, how are the lights of the old hometown? I understand the blackout
has been lifted – that should make people a bit brighter.
Your cake and parcels haven't arrived yet – the service seems to have slowed up. Still
if they are sealed with sticking plaster they should be all right. I'll tell you what the
Cook is like right away.
Sweet dreams, darling. With love and kisses and hugs to my best girl –As always
your, Me.
PS. Am enclosing the letter from Mitch—haven’t replied yet but will do so when I
work out what he means by always write C/o Kodak House, Kingsway, London
***
September 1943.
Rouna to Bulldog.
1 September 1943. On lined quarto writing pad, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Capt. Richards
Dearest Marjorie, I have two of your letters to answer tonight Aug.25 and 26. They
arrived together yesterday. Last night I wrote to Ann H. and Norman Jnr.- and lady,
was that a struggle? As a matter of fact things are so slow I’m cutting down my
mailing list to two or three in future.
It wont be long now before Anne is in the missing tooth stage and Bet will be having
a few sleepless nights with toothache in the nursery department. The best thing to do
is to have them yanked out before they get to that stage. I’m inclined to think the idea
of filling baby teeth is interfering with natural process in view of the Lindfield
family’s experience.
Pross and I are still doing pretty good from a health angle. My back is right again and
his spots have just about vanished. The food we're getting now is about the best we've
had from the army. For tea last night, there was curried rabbit, apricots and blancmange and today midday meal camp –pie, plenty of tomatoes and a tin of pineapple
jam on the table. Fresh butter is rationed but we get enough for one piece of bread
each meal.
I'll have to ease up on the smoking – tobacco is rationed to 3 ounces a week,
chocolate one bar whenever you can get it. However there are quite a number of nonsmokers in the unit so we shouldn't go short.
The leave boys have arrived back after many weeks in transit. Ted Le Trass (I think
that's how he spells his name) said he saw Bob at the Showground and had a long
yarn with him. Of course all the news he brought is stale. The general report about
207
Sydney is that it's cold and wet and everything is scarce – well practically everything.
In spite of such a gloomy picture, I'd give next year's pay to be there at this moment.
It does my heart good to hear Liz's figure is regaining its curves – I can hardly wait to
see her. Also you can count on me helping Norma to do that job. You’d better go
steady with your physical culture or that black frock of yours will be wasted. And, by
the way, you haven't sent me a photograph of yourself for a long time. Now there's a
good excuse to you to put on your glad glad’s, have a few bobs worth of movies, a
shopping tour in town and get your photograph taken at the same time.
About those copies of "Man", darling, Mitch must have plenty of reading and I'm sure
we can make better use of them up here. Of course they may have cut out the free list
and that may account for your not getting them recently. When you call at Nortoft
give Mrs Rowse my love and ask her to have one on the ice for me when I come
home. I'm telling everyone to do that to be sure of getting, at least, a couple of drinks
on the house.
Pross hears from Cec regularly and he certainly seems to have the love bug – talks
seriously of tying the matrimonial knot soon. Bears out the old song "When he fancies
he is past love etc", doesn't it?
It's my turn to make a pot of something to drink, Darling and the boys are getting
impatient, so goodbye for a little while. When you're all dressed up to go dreaming
tonight remember I'm thinking of you and longing to see you again. All my love and
kisses extra special to my sweetheart wife. As always, Your, Me.
PS. Your little remark about Nortoft on a winter night of the fire makes me feel
homesick. The other night I was thinking about our holiday at Winbourne. Do you
remember??
***
3 September 1943. Lined, quarto sized writing pad, in ink with regimental number,
censor's signature illegible.
Hello dear, How are you tonight? It's about 7.30 and I suppose you were just settling
down with the Sunday night crowd, for a chinwag and a little bit of radio, or you may
be out at Betty's place with the baby. It's strange – me up here wondering what you
are doing and you probably trying to imagine where I am. You can be pretty sure of
being right if you picture me sitting down at a table made of cases, scribbling away –
any night I'm not on duty or at the pictures. The light is not too good for reading
although I did manage to finish "Sorrell and Son” last night.
Two more parcels for Pross turned up this morning – they must have been the ones
Sister Edwards sent but there was no note enclosed.
More important to me are your two letters, (August 27 and 30) which arrived in this
morning's mail-bag. When I don't hear from you I begin to wonder if anything is
wrong – that's because you have spoiled me with your regularity. But the bet is dollars
to peanuts that any delay is not your fault and I soon get over it. There's not another
man in the unit luckier than I am with letters and it's you that I have to thank.
208
The backache has disappeared altogether – it wasn't lumbago. Probably caused by
sitting up too much with no rest for my back. Wet clothes don't do much damage as
the temperature is always fairly high and it never drops suddenly.
Sorry to hear Auntie Cis is not feeling well – she's getting old and the cold weather
would be hard on her, I suppose. Give my love when you see her and about that
lounge table – if you like I
it, buy it by all means. After all you're the one who knows best what we want in that
line. I've got an idea I have seen the table you mean and Cis shows pretty good taste
in some of her things
Bill seems to have been lucky – Darwin was a hotspot for a while according to
reports. He should have a share in the lottery with us. Tell Betty not to worry, the law
of averages is on her side and things are much brighter all-round.
Long, long ago, I used to play tennis with Edna Spilsbury. Didn't know she dabbled in
amateur theatricals. Her Show "Marjorie and George" is an old timer, played once by
Edna Best and Herbert Marshall in the movies. They starred together at the "Met", I
think. Glad to hear you enjoyed the outing with the young marrieds and almost
marrieds. Maybe when our turn comes you'll be able to get the team together again
and you'll have a man in green uniform to cling to..
Sometimes those good days seem as if they'll never come but then I say to myself this
parting can't last forever – we must get a break sooner or later. The worst part of this
job tis boredom – there's no chance of promotion, it's a dead-end and in any case, that
wouldn't make any difference. It's a pity I didn't get a job in the Department of
Information and then I'd be doing a creative work instead of digging holes. Perhaps
the position will change – who knows?
Still I've got my movies to keep me going and tomorrow night "Star Spangled
Rhythm" is showing and it should be good entertainment. Will tell you about it on
Tuesday. Until then my darling wife good night and God bless you. Love and kisses,
as always, George.
PS. How's the old apple tree?
***
September 3, 1943, also. On airmail Lettercard, with penny stamp, in ink, with
regimental number censored by Capt. Richards.
My Darling Marjorie, Here's my Friday special – a quickie before I go to the pictures.
There were no letters for me today – that's the third day I've missed out – so I have
nothing to bite on, seeing that everything is quiet up in these regions.
We had a church service this morning, in response to the King's request for a day of
prayer. Reminds me of the song "Praize the Lord and pass the ammunition". The
chaplain was a sombre sort of bloke with a static kind of delivery.
209
I wrote to Hughie last night and Mitch a few days ago – they will receive those letters
around about Christmas time I suppose. Hughie’s post-card took five months to reach
me.
Marj dear, would you ask Norm to get me a lottery ticket and call it "Two Green
suits". Frank and I think we're lucky. Keep a note of the number and lottery and send
the ticket onto me. When it's drawn you could get a cutting out of the paper and
include it in one of your letters. So that you can collect the £5000, make the syndicate
C/o of yourself. Next pay I'm transferring some of my accumulated pay for you to
collect at the post office but you'll hear more about that later on.
Pross and I continue to keep healthy, and I feel, with ordinary luck we shouldn't have
much to worry us. All I'm concerned about is that you look after yourself and keep the
old chin up. The Americans are firmly convinced that Germany will be out of the war
by Christmas and the Japs three months later. Of course they can't help being so
modest – but I hope they're right.
Love and kisses and a big hug from, Yours as ever, George.
PS. I can hear a voice singing "If I should fall in Love again" – them's my sentiments,
sweetheart. George.
***
4 September 1943. On lined quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, censored by Capt. Richards.
My Darling Marjorie,
This is the fourth day without a letter from you, which is very unusual – the mails
must be held up somewhere. A few letters have been drizzling through but I think the
complaint is general. Especially about parcels.
Pross got a tin from home today – but he still has a couple outstanding, like myself. I
hope they don't perish on the way. The two of us are spending the evening at home
tonight, doing some writing and reading. Frank and the others have gone to the
pictures, so everything is quiet. (NB. Excuse dirty marks on this page – I was lighting
a cigarette from light and kerosene spilt).
I saw “The Mark of Zorro" last night, in the rain. Not a bad old timer but the screen
was pretty poor. Somebody had pinched the one they usually have and a tent fly had
to be substituted. This would have been much better without the big oily patch in the
centre which put "Zorro" in the shadows quite a bit. However what we couldn't see
we imagined and everybody was happy.
Pross has just opened one parcel. It's from Teen. Oh boy! Oh boy!. If you noticed the
pause there, it was me eating a bar of coconut ice and a Nestle's chocolate. Later on
we’ll make a cup of cocoa from the parcel. (Incidentally we have a stock of same, so
don't send any more for a while)
I can hear the raindrops on the tent – our regular daily shower has begun, a little late
but sure enough. In a few minutes I’ll have to dive for better shelter and leave you.
210
At mess today the boys were discussing the advantages and disadvantages of married
life. "There's one thing", said I. "You don't have to worry about what you'll have to
eat. On your way home from work at night you have the pleasure of trying to guess
what's on for dinner. And when you arrive there it is waiting for you – piping hot in
winter. A lovely grilled steak, done to liking and complete with chipped potatoes
lemon and what have you. It's just what the doctor ordered, and you wonder how in
the world your wife could have known you would have wished for nothing better".
You see I can't help thinking about those little things that were so undeserved by me.
Nor can I ever forget the evergreen smile that always greeted me at the door, even on
the wettest of nights. I wonder if the new tenants at "Nortoft" are as happy as we
were. Mrs Rowse would like to have "her" three girls back there with her I bet, and
she wouldn't mind the tramp of heavy boots up the front staircase, I'm sure. Even Ron
and Olwyn's box-on would be bearable for a couple of months, wouldn't it?
I'd get a kick out of seeing Mac even if we only talked about the rhubarb episode
again.
Now, Sweetheart darling I'll get to bed and dream my little dreams. Goodnight until
next time, Princess, Ever your loving husband, George Love and kisses from your
Austinmer boy-friend. G.
7 September 1943. . On lined quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, censored by Capt. S.B. Clipsham NX137564
My Darling Marjorie, Four letters for me today – three from you and one from Mr
Patterson. The old boy gives me two pages of breezy news and says business is very
good. The sole object of the staff is to hold the fort so that our future will be assured.
Pat thinks the Service Trust will turn out as planned and we will have an interest in
the firm to compensate for the sacrifice we have had to make in our salaries. As far as
I can see there is no reason in the world why they shouldn't be able to keep going for
the duration as the opposition is in exactly the same position in regard to their key
men.
Kim and Frank Andrews have been in some R.N. show in the Mediterranean although
they haven't met. Andrews must write Pat reams and reams of sawdust – because I get
the right dope from Hugh Walker and that lad doesn't beat around the bush about
what's doing. Remember what I told you before? Andrews has bought Eric Baum's
offsider a couple of beers and blown a few stories in his ear with himself as central
character – hence "mirror" cables and Navy's laughs, according to Hugh. The playboy
sure knows the ropes in breaking into the news – good luck to him as long as he fools
only his society dames.
Last night I had a few laughs at the pictures – a snake got loose in the audience.
Everybody was sitting quietly on the grass when suddenly one cove hopped up and
cast his shadow on "Tugboat Annie Sails Again". You can imagine the remarks that
211
flew around urging him to sit down but he must have convinced others in the
immediate vicinity that something was amiss because, next minute, the screen was
blotted out with shadows. When a voice in front of me called out "It's coming this
way" I don't mind telling you I sprang off my backside "extra quick". This procedure
was repeated several times during the show – and I still don't know whether it was a
joke or a real snake. Before all this happened I felt something flop into my lap and I
put my hand down to feel what it was. The "something" turned out to be a slimy frog
which jumped a good 4 feet when I touched him. Nice place this New Guinea!
Well, darling I didn't see "Star Spangled Rhythm" after all so I can’t tell you about it.
Maybe later.
At present I’m up in the hills at Pross’ old haunt, cutting timber. The climate is much
cooler and the water in the showers feels like ice after being accustomed to the hot
water down below. Right along side the camp thee river goes merrily on its way – not
swift enough to prevent swimming but tiring to a poor swimmer like myself.
Not far from here are native villages and Barracks for native police boys. I've seen
them training and I think they’d give a pretty good account of themselves in a spot of
trouble. (There is a devil of a racket going on in the hut dear – and I'm afraid my
letter’s going to be a little disjointed. Anyhow, it's better than nothing, I hope)
Now to answer your letters. I'm glad to hear that the blood transfusion didn't perturb
you much. You must be a heaven sent gift to the Blood Bank – no trouble at all. Poor
old Dulce, she must be disappointed at not being able to carry on but still it's foolish
trying to persevere if she can’t stand it isn't it. Perhaps she will go in with you next
time just to keep you company. Don't go in by yourself, darling in case you need
someone to look after you coming home.
Those vegetables you are putting in should be well grown by the time I get home;
Keep up the good work but don't knock yourself out doing too much. That
lawnmower is too heavy for you – better get the old count on the job. I'm sure if you
could manage a bottle of beer, he'd be in it.
Will have to say goodbye sweetheart as I’m sitting on another guy's bed and he’s
getting a bit sleepy. Tomorrow I may get a chance to continue. Until my next letter all
my love and extra special kisses.
As Always your, Me.
PS. Looks like I almost forgot to tell you that you're all the world to me.
***
8 September 1943. On lined quarto writing pad, in ink with regimental number,
censored by Lt TF Kelly NX 136699.
[Written from camp site known to the Division historian as Lux Lane, above Rouna
Falls, adjacent to the Laloki River in foothills of Owen Stanley Range, below Kokoda
Track starting point and Owers Corner. Likeman refers to this location and the
associated dysentery hospital at p94; George was away from Rigo at Lux Lane when
a Liberator bound for the Nadzab advance crashed on take-off from Ward’s Strip on
top of a company from the 2/33 Battalion, resulting in 119 soldiers killed with 9th FA
212
ambulances from RIGO MDS ferrying casualties to available resources. See Likeman
@97]
My Darling Marjorie, I was writing under difficulties last night as explained and as a
matter of fact I’m still having a bit of trouble trying to get a rest for the pad. We
brought a tent up with us the other day then pitched it alongside the river (where
dwell millions of crawling insects and ants), fixed up our beds and found there were
no hurricane lamps available. So for a couple of days I’ll have to do my writing in the
daylight hours because I can't concentrate while there's an argument going on in the
hut.
You are asking whether Frank O’Brien had a sweetheart. Unfortunately yes – and a
very devoted one, too. I met her a couple of times at dances and I know, at one time,
they had decided to get married. That was before he went into hospital but they must
have realised the hopelessness of it. After such a long illness I suppose the blow was
softened, though such a happening must be a tragedy in a young girl's life
I'm feeling okay today. Yesterday my back got a bit of a wrench and I had it
massaged and it seemed to relieve it wonderfully. Dad and yours truly will be able to
sit before the fire and tell some great old yarns while nursing our aches and pains
when we get old. Sorry to hear my Pop is not too good – his age will go greatly
against him recovering quickly. Poor Mother, she’s never out of trouble, is she?
What sort of time did you have at Betty's birthday party? Same old crowd I suppose,
doing the usual.
Your letters always make me feel happy, darling. Just to hear from you is all I look
for – it doesn't matter if there's no news. I'm always scratching my head trying to
think what to write, too.
This morning the team went out after timber again and did some hard work for
awhile. We had a look at a rubber plantation and this is the first time I've seen rubber
being tapped from trees. [Reference is to what the oral history describes as
MacDonald’s Planation just before Owers Corner.]
A big part of this particular plantation is non-productive at present as the trees are too
young. I understand it takes 20 years for a rubber tree to reach maturity and they grow
to a height of about 70 feet.
A cut is made in the bark at the foot of the trunk – some three feet from the ground
and a trough-shaped piece of tin is inserted below the cut – to catch the rubber sap and
lead it into a cup which is placed on the ground. Looks like this …..
The natives come along with a chisel each day and after pulling the thin layer of
rubber off the cut and taking the deposit from the cup they chisel the edge of the cut
nearest the ground to "bleed" it again. The sap is pure white, identical with the stuff
you get to fix on rubber soles. After it has been exposed to the atmosphere for a while
it changes from a liquid to an elastic solid as you can see from the small piece
enclosed which I pulled off a tree.
213
The natives collect this stuff in a small bag carried at their sides. It is then put into a
vat and treated with acetic acid to reduce the water content. The next stage is a milling
process and later it is cut into slabs about half an inch thick and packed in big bales
for transportation to the factory – probably Pends at Drummoyne. An alternative
method is to twist the latex (I think it is called) on to a stick and dry it over a fire but
evidently heat at this stage discolours and harms the rubber as it is classed as a lower
grade when marketed. All of which shows that I know very little of the rubber
industry but I'm trying to find out something about it. New Guinea will probably
become a big rubber producing country after the war – now that the Yanks have seen
its possibilities. There are plenty of swamps and suitable soil – don’t misunderstand
me, I'm handing the whole business over to America, and coming home to stay.
And that my sweetheart just about uses up all my daylight. So until you hear from me
next time, goodbye and God bless you. By the way I like your starlight serenade – I
can almost hear you. All my love and a big kiss and hug as in days of yore.
Always Your own, Me.
***
10 September 1943. On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, in ink, with regimental
number, censored by Lt. DC McCaulay.
My dearest Marjorie, Here I am again back with the gang after a few days sojourn in
the hills. The change of scenery helped to pass this week away quickly even though
we worked pretty constantly up there.
Your letter 41 (September 6) came this morning and as usual this reply is the Friday
stop-gap -– pictures are on tonight. Bad luck I missed Star-Spangled Rhythm. Pross
said it was a pippin.
There is a strong breeze rushing through the tent – that's unusual for these parts – and
it's blowing everything inside out. (Excuse for bad writing).
I received a letter from Betty in this mail, too. She seems quite pleased with herself
and her birthday party. Said she would have enjoyed it much more if Bill and I had
been there – well I can't speak for Bill but I'm sure the old Liz and I would have
finished up under the table. Don't spoil her with the kids darling or you'll be sorry.
(You needn't tell her I said that).
Anne's operation seems to be causing a little concern. How about massaging the scar
with a mixture of butter and cocoa – that is one method of eliminating scars so "they"
say. I haven't checked with the medical profession so can't vouch for it.
Sorry to hear your little venture in imbibing didn't agree with you – no need for me to
say "I told you". There's nothing to upset you in water, anyhow.
Stan Bridges turns up again – say no more. I suppose he's a Captain or something
now.
214
I had no idea that Eileen Mathews was sick and it was quite a shock to hear Dad had
gone to her funeral. Did I tell you Joe knows Fred and Warwick Mathews very well?
Will write again tomorrow night darling so until then goodbye and God bless you. My
fondest love and kisses to my best girl.
Always your, Me.
***
11 September 1943. On lined quarto writing pad, in ink, regimental number torn off,
Censor’s signature not legible.
My Darling Marjorie, Today may be a half holiday to some folks but it's just Saturday
afternoon to me. Looks like a solid bit of work for the next few days so the time
should pass quickly.
Pross is a way, at present, on a job three or 4 miles down the road – he is looking well
now the itch has left him – sends his love to you. We are not on the same truck yet
and we're not bothering about it until we go further forward.
The weather has been fairly dry lately and there’s been a cool breeze blowing – hope
the rain hangs off until after the pictures tonight.
"The First of the Few" is the feature and I'm looking forward to seeing it. I remember
reading the review in "Women's Weekly" but I don't think it's been shown in Sydney
yet, has it?
I have been letting my correspondence slip for quite awhile so tomorrow will be spent
on the end of a pen. There are five letters waiting to be answered and I'm hanged if I
know what to say. Even my stock of smutty stories is depleted and there’re no new
ones forthcoming.
How did Sydney take the news of Italy's's capitulation? Everybody expected it but
usually when these things are announced, somebody starts to make whoopee. The
troops took it as a matter of course, although they realised it's another step toward the
end of the war. I wouldn't be surprised if the next piece of news will be about the Japs
being routed off this island. [There's a parade in five minutes dear, so I'll get have to
continue later. G’bye].
Sunday September 12.
I didn't get a chance to finish last night as we got a flying start to the pictures as soon
as tea was over.
My feelings about " The First of the Few" are mixed and I was rather disappointed.
The film (in my opinion) is merely an historical record of Mitchell's struggle to be
recognised – with a heavy layer of propaganda. It's poorly dramatised lacking the
sparkle and "oomph" of the Yankee technique. In fact, I think Mrs Mitchell must've
had an extremely dull life and it’s a wonder she didn't fall for David Niven (the test
pilot). Too little of the spotlight was thrown on the "the few to whomm so much is
215
owed by so many". Maybe my tea didn't agree with me or I was expecting bright
entertainment. The newsreel of the invasion of Sicily is something out-of-the-box and
in view of the latest news, was received with loud cheers for the Eighth Army.
In the supporting feature "Our Leading Citizen" Bob Burns plays a good Will Rogers
role and makes a pretty good job of it. I still would prefer Will Rogers. Incidentally
this movie review comes to you without charge. To your remark, "It's fraightfully
boring, dear boy" I beg to reply "It's a fraightfully easy way to fill up a couple of
pages, dear girl"
Your two letters September 7 and 8 reached me this morning, Marjorie Darling, and I
have a few things to say to you. First, is about your war effort, don't think for one
moment, because your not in the services or in a factory that you are not helping.
Your Red Cross business is a big thing – to say nothing of your other duties.
Somebody's gotto stoke the fire and give the old folks a hand at home, haven't they.
Last night I heard a Yank remark "Mrs R. has to do something to justify her income
of $48,000 per annum but why the heck doesn't she stay back home and keep selling
her ideas where they are most needed"
Your day in the gardens with the youngsters and others must have been a cheerful
break for you – just as well you didn't try to snatch an Azalea or you might have
found the long arm of the law on your shoulder.
I haven't done much work in the medical line yet but I am hoping to get a shot at it
before long. The common name for such an occupation is "poe juggling".
I was surprised to receive an airgraph letter from Hughie in the mail today. Nothing
much in it but I'm enclosing it for you to have a look-see.
Wished I could have seen you in your yellow socks – you won't need them when the
good old days return. Now Goodbye sweetheart and thanks for the memories. All my
love and kisses, As always, Your , Me.
***
13 September 1943. On unlined notepad, 10 x 17 cm, in ink, with regimental
number, censored by Captain Richards.
Marjorie Dear, In my letter to Mother the other night, I made a terrible faux
pas (pardon my French) by apologising for the notepaper. I now remember
that it was sent to me from home during the time when paper was so scarce.
Judy went to a lot of trouble to get it for me so I must have seemed
ungracious. However I do appreciate her kindness and I was only thinking that
my awful writing on small size paper would be hard to read. Tell her, will you.
There’s not much to say tonight, darling but I'm enclosing the Chief's letter to
make up for it.
The news from these parts is particularly bright, isn't it? And it will be better
still before many more sunrises I think. It looks like Tojo is going to have a few
headaches, although he is still pretty strong. I've got a feeling that, as soon as
216
they get a few cracks in their own backyard, the Japs will collapse quickly.
From what I have read, their character is such that when they are victorious in
the main, they're fanatics, but when they learn that things are turning against
them everywhere it's a different story. The couple I've seen have been sullen
and with a look of fear in their eyes as if they expected to be tortured. Perhaps
sickness would account for this though.
The weather up here has been very dry lately and hot. Tonight it's quite cool
and there’s a lovely breeze blowing, Outside it's almost as bright as day in the
moonlight. That same old moon is shining down on Sydney, when I come to
think of it so we are not so far apart are we? Maybe there are a few clouds
hiding it but it is there all right. From your reports, Sydney is having a wet
Spring – or is it dryer, now. I suppose the air-raid shelter is full of water and is
being used for a well. You won't need it after all, I'm thankful to say but it was
a close go.
Frank is sitting opposite me scratching away furiously – he seems to have
plenty to write about. I'll have to interrupt his train of thought in a minute and
remind him it's his turn to make a dish of tea. We’re extremely lucky to have
such luxuries when you people are scraping along with so little. The meals of
late have been excellent for the army and I've managed to hold my own so far
as weight is concerned. I’ll probably finish up a fat old man when I get back to
my old diet at home.
Col Bell has just come in and volunteered to boil the water so I'll give him a
hand. Until my next letter, sweetheart, goodbye and God bless you. Love and
extra special kisses from your, Me
PS. How is the little white kitchen table?. G
***
17 September 1943. On unlined notepad, 10 x 17 cm, in ink, with regimental
number, censored by Capt Clipsham
My Darling Marjorie, Your letter of September 11 came this morning – that
seems slow after the service we’ve been getting lately doesn't it? There was a
big parcel mail too but the parcel you sent some time ago wasn't in it. Looks
as if it's gone astray. However we had better wait a bit longer before making
any enquiries as I believe long delays are not unusual.
Your idea of taking a small furnished flat on our leave is good in one way but it
would mean work for you and you're going to have a well-deserved holiday
without having to worry about meals and housework. So I think we should pick
a nice place where all that sort of thing is done by some else. In any case, a
flat would be hard to find probably – unless we can find somebody who knows
somebody who has one. When the conversation switches to a topic like this, I
almost feel as if the time is close. It's impossible for me to explain how happy I
feel when I just think of seeing you again. I can imagine how your bright little
face will be beaming with smiles.
217
A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since I spoke to you on the ‘phone
from Narellan and told you I was leaving. I knew how you felt although I tried
to make light of it. I had a lump in my throat, too. Never mind "apples will grow
again".
I've had a couple of days driving since my last letter and the change was
welcome not that I mind hard work – it's the best thing that could happen to
anyone in this climate. But it gets terribly monotonous.
Pross is still away and I haven’t seen him for a couple of days. He will
probably be in tomorrow for a few minutes so I’ll give him your love then.
Social functions at the Rowing Club seem to be in full swing – it's a wonder
they can keep going with most of the lads away. Remember the night we went
along, paid our three bob and then decided we'd been robbed. We finished up
by hopping over the back fence with couple of dozen Peters Ice cream
buckets to make up for it. Those functions were for the young unmarried's
weren’t htey? – Not for us old fogies. We had a much better time in front of
the gas-fire with a bottle of Orlando's best and some soft music, didn't we? No
wonder Dulce was always so keen for me to show her my beautiful etchings.
I'll be the happiest man in the world when I can get back to my job of folding
the pink quilt – not quilts – even if you do have to you train me to make the
creases in the right places.
Now good night darling girl and don't forget to wind the clock. A big kiss and
squeeze with all my love (extra special kind) always your, Me
PS. Love to the family and a kiss for Anne.
***
18 September 1943. On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, in ink, with
regimental number, censor’s signature illegible.
My Darling Marjorie, I received your very cheery letter of September 10
yesterday – it must've been delayed at the Sydney end – I think. Anyhow it
meant I had mail for two consecutive days and that's not bad.
About the lottery ticket – Frank is getting one in Tats Melbourne Cup Sweep
so I'm having "Two Green Suits" on my own. I'll send you the "dough" for it
later on. By the time we get through winning all the first prizes we’ll be
wondering what to spend the money on. The law of averages says that I'm
due to win something – so you'd better start picking your presents.
I think I'll let the pay I don't use mount up in my book and bust it up when that
leave of mine comes around – you can draw whatever you want from the
bank. Of course I have two important dates to remember.
218
Good news about Lae isn't it? There was general rejoicing when the troops
heard who were the first to reach the town – always a bit of friendly rivalry in
those things.
It's very hot today after a light shower yesterday and the perspiration is
streaming down my chest.
We picked up a python's skin yesterday – a beauty about 12 foot long.
Evidently it had been shed recently so I hope the python is not around. I'd
hate to step on one of those blighters on a dark night.
Well, darling, as you can see I've been scratching for a few words to fill up the
space and there’s not much of interest. But I've said "Hello" and you know I'm
well, (Pross is too) which is the purpose of this "quickie". Bob and Dotty are
on at the "flicks" tonight and it should be good entertainment.
I'll write again soon. Don't get anxious if you don't hear for some time.
Goodbye now sweetheart, With love and kisses from George.
***
20 September 1943. On ACF lined Letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Lt TF Kelly
My Darling Marjorie, I have just been handed three of your letters – a
pleasant surprise after having been told there was no mail for me. Also the
parcel containing sweets, biscuits milk, etc reached me today. Everything was
in fairly good order – the wrapped sweets had gone soft but we managed to
lick them off the paper. Thank you darling and I believe I have to thank Sugar
Pie too, haven't I?
The other day I went through my bundle of old love letters and tossed most of
them out as it is impossible to carry them around with me. I hated doing it but
that's the way things are in the army. I couldn't part with the first letter you
wrote to me – it's the loveliest letter I've ever read. In its words, lies a vivid
picture of a little lady who feels that her little world is crumbling around her.
Yet she is sure that it is all for some purpose of which we know nothing at
present. I spent a couple of hours browsing through the others before burning
them and it was like having a talk with you again.
This message comes to you from Papua's rugged slopes beside the river
which you heard about in previous letters. I've been here since yesterday
morning and most of the time have been digging in, shifting the tent etc.
Outside the rain is pouring down and it's quite likely there’ll be a river running
through the tent tonight as the slope is pretty steep and the trench is pretty
shallow. However I have a stretcher made from packing cases and, unless the
water is more than 2 feet deep everything should be all right. The "wogs" will
probably want to keep dry, too so we should be one big happy family. Last
night they decided to take a tour over my body but with the aid of a flit gun I
219
was able to cancel arrangements that might have been made for a long stay.
By tomorrow I think I will be making a strategic withdrawal to places
untouched by human hands, I hope.
On Saturday night I took me to the pictures and gazed upon the beautiful form
of the exotic Dotti L'Amour. Bob Hope as a delightful numbskull reporter is
well up to Hope standard in this show "You’ve got me Covered". Sadly
missing were the dreamy songs and Bing Crosby. In one part Bob picks up a
musical cigarette box from which comes the sound of Bings's voice singing
"Where the blue of the night etc". Shutting down the lid Bob Hope says "That
guy haunts me".
On the same programme was “Between Two Women” an old-timer of 1938
vintage – not bad
The "News from Home" newsreel showed Rita Paunceford and Dorothy
Foster entertaining munitions workers. (These two were in Star Parade –
remember?). Best crack comes at fade-out. Rita asks Dorothy "What has soand-so got that I haven't" and Dorothy replies "Nothing – but you've had it
longer". Needless to relate same was received with loud guffaws by the boys.
Young Miss Thummler appears to be having the time of your life these days
and I expect school is going to be rather dull after all the fussing. It won't
matter much if she does miss a few weeks – she's too young, anyway to be
cramming in that nonsense.
Mr Patterson's plans for the future make things look pretty definate for the first
12 months after the war but what will happen later remains to be seen. I'd be
a fool not to take my slice of the cake, wouldn't I? But I wouldn't care to play
second fiddle to the guy who has my job at present. The problem will solve
itself, I suppose, so I’m not worrying about it.
Well dear, I haven't said much in a lot of words and now the boys want the
only lamp we have – to get their beds ready. So next time I'll answer your
letters 46 and 47.
I couldn't tell you in a million years how much I love you – but you know don't
you. Chin up, sweetheart darling – be seeing you some sweet day. Goodnight
and God bless you and keep you safe.
Always Your own, Me.
PS. Give my to all your family.
***
22 September 1943. On ACF lined Letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
censoring officer’s signature illegible. [At foot of page is the printed notice:
IMPORTANT.-Any reference to shipping or troop movements will result in the
delay or mutilation of your letters.]
My darling Marjorie, If the writing in this letter turns out to be worse than
220
usual, it's because the rest I'm using is a bundle of old newspapers balanced
on my knee. (Old Bill Clarke used to say to me "One thing about you George
– you never put over the same excuse twice").
Now to answer your letters as promised a few days ago. First of all darling,
my back is OK and I'm full of beans – (beans are our main diet these days). I
saw Pross yesterday at the MDS and he's fit too. Then back to the hills from
whence your poor scribe is writing at this moment. Here the weather is cool
and the surroundings are pleasant but some of the comforts are missing –
that's because we haven't had time to settle in properly. I'll probably go back
shortly so its not much use making too many improvements.
Tell Norma the story of the frog and snake is gospel truth – Cross my heart –
like her hide to doubt my integrity anyway. I'll make her squeal when I get
back to my-oh-my – tell her.
This week, sweetheart, I'm sending you five pounds through the army
channels. You will collect it at the Post Office with your allotment. It will take
about a fortnight to go through, probably and they will advise you about it at
the Post Office. Here's what you have to do with this fiver. With two pounds
you are to buy yourself an anniversary present for October 14. Two more
pounds is for your birthday present November 23. The remaining pound will
defray the cost of the lottery ticket and other expenses you have incurred on
my behalf. If you have a few bob left, perhaps you could buy Norm a pair of
those cotton drawers which, I'm told, Sydney's charmers are wearing – or
maybe another lousy umbrella. Of course she shall have satin and silk when
coupon days are over and the orchards grow again.
I haven't attempted to select your presents dear as I'm not quite clear on what
is available in the shops. You understand, don't you, darling?
I still think the old "count" would nibble at the lawn if you dangled a bottle of
beer under his snozzoler. The inspector's work must be agreeing with him –
hope his chest hasn't slipped. I saw a cartoon the other day, with the caption
"Suited". The subjects were facing each other and the man’s fat tummy just
fitted beautifully under the dame's very large bosom. So if Aub is getting a
brewer's goitre, Jesse had better start working hard on the famous course
"How to develop your bust".
How is your little Annikins getting along with her operation scar? Of course it
won't be any handicap – unless she becomes a strip-tease artist. As long as it
has healed properly there shouldn't be anything to worry about.
I told Joe about Eileen Matthews and he said he knew Fred – used to work at
Dunlops with him.
Hope you enjoyed the orchid show at DJs. This is the country for orchids –
they grow wild. Most of the ones I have seen are the common green-yellow
type which are not valuable but I believe there are some beauties to be found
if one likes to go looking for them. Climbing up mountains and high trees is
221
hard work so I don't bother
Wherever you are, you'll hear the old controversy over twin beds – even the
toddlers ask why, eh? The general opinion of the troops in New Guinea is that
nothing can compare it with a good old-fashioned double-bed. Frank says
he'd take the risk of being unhealthy by sleeping two in a bed. I didn't point out
that it really didn't matter where you sleep.
And I think I'll leave it at that, dearest girl in the world. I'll be hotfooting it for
home at the earliest possible moment – you betcha life. In the meantime,
keep the old coke-burner going – life will begin for us when all this is over and
it won't be long now. Love to all at home. Kisses and hugs, As ever, Your,
Me.
PS. You can tell Bill Rouse I'll be calling that his place. Cutting from "Woman"
Re Elizabeth Brown enclosed. May be of interest.
***
29 September 1943. On ACF Letterhead, in pencil, with regimental address,
censored by Captain Clipsham. [There is a 7 day gap between this letter and
the last one; it is written after movement of George’s section of the 9th Field
Ambulance from the Rigo-Rouna deployments to Bulldog. From Likeman’s
account at 100, George was a member of the first detachment from the 9 Fd.
Amb. that shipped by the “Muliana” and landing barges up the Lakekamu
River at the head of which they took over the Bulldog ADS soon after the
capture of Lae and Salamaua. George’s descriptions match the account
given in Likeman of the difficult conditions.]
My darling Marjorie, I suppose you have been looking in the letterbox for a
few days now without success – and have guessed the reason for the break.
Pross is with me and we are in the centre of New Guinea – more than that I
cannot say at the moment (in regard to location, I mean). Our quarters are
surprisingly good considering we are in the thick jungle and the tucker is
wholesome. Amusements are nil except for a gramophone and a few records
– two radio sets have left us but we should have another one before long.
The hospital is about 2 miles from the river so it looks as if swimming won’t be
popular if we have to walk to it. However water is laid on and the showers are
handy. A small pump brings the water up from a good spring, I believe.
When we arrived, there was mail waiting for us – eight for me. Three of them
were from you – September 21, 22, 23, the rest from the family and office. It
will take me some time to answer all of them so tell them not to get too
anxious, they'll get a reply as soon as I can get around to it.
Filling in the air-raid shelter must have been quite a ceremony beside being
heavy work for you girls. Norma's plan of the redesigned garden makes it
appear to be a Victory garden. Hope you have plenty of success with the
veggies –you will be glad to have them as time goes on.
222
I haven't seen Bill Rouses yet. When you go over to "Nortoft" next time, give
Mrs Rouses my love, will you dear. Her eldest boy certainly is a lucky guy to
be so near home.
In her letter Mother said that Norman's place had been broken into while they
were away. Must been someone in the know. She didn't say what they got
away with or any details of the raid.
I think I told you in my last letter about the parcel arriving in good condition. I
still have the milk and some of the sweets and this is the place where they will
be appreciated even more.
While I think of it I sent you a grass skirt on Sunday. Packed it in the old cake
tin. It would be a good idea to hang it out in the sun and spray it with some
sort of fly-spray before you handle it too much. I have already given it one
dose but it's just as well to be careful with anything you get from New Guinea.
Don't forget to let me know about the money I sent to you through the army
pay office. After I'd sent it I thought of the hairdo you are saving up for. Well
now's your chance, darling.
I'm looking forward to the quilt folding and I'm sure I'll make a much better job
of it than ever before.
I'm sorry to hear you are so sad about losing your little girlfriend – she’ll miss
you too. Liz seems cheerful and back to her old form once more. She agrees
that her child is the most beautiful thing in the world and very much like
Mummy. Only funning, of course.
You can tell young W W Dulcie "She's telling me" it's her turn to write. She
has no chance of hearing from me unless I get a letter from her first. Holy
Smoke, my mailing list is about 3 miles long. Pleased to hear Doug is doing
well.
Elsie will properly get a kick out of her job when she settles in– I think you
have enough to do at home and you should make them understand that – if
you have to report.
It's kai-time darling and I haven't told you about the crocs and snakes but that
will keep until tomorrow. The mail doesn't take much longer to reach us here –
so once we link up again everything should be hunky-dory. All my love and
kisses as ever, Your, Me
PS. Excuse pencil and paper. Everything's damp here. G.
[An understated description of a later movement from Rigo to Bulldog is given
in Richard Raxworthy's "Soldiering on in Papua New Guinea" an oral history
of the 9th AFA. He quotes Alan Willoughby who joined George and Pross
Seagrove on the deployment, in a reference that indirectly mentions them:
"I left Put Moresby and we went by a Dutch ship. We went up the West Coast
223
northwards to the Lakekamu River. The ship stood off the shore and we went
down nets into open boats and then into the town. I think there might have
been a town or something near the river mouth and from there we got into
barges, motor barges and went upstream. We'd stop each night alongside the
river bank or if there was a town would pull into the town. I remember one
place particularly was called Terapo. We took a few nights and a few days
getting up the river till we got to Bulldog and would either pull in at a town
because the current was very strong against these barges and they’d take a
few days to get up although they'd get back down in about a fifth of the time
with the heavy flow of the river…( elsewhere estimated at only about 2 knots
forward speed against the current)…---- the hospital was at Bulldog. The
place where we arrived, the town, was at the head of the river and then the
hospital would be another 5 miles or something further on from that on its way
Wau.the We built a little bit of road ourselves. There were about six of us in
transport there, two men I know, two brothers and one of them had been in
the Engineers and we decided because the ambulances were always getting
bogged trying to get in or trucks coming in that we’d build this road, a
corduroy road. We went out and cut, the timber, laid it across. We put side
things supporting cross pieces and then we got loads and loads of sand down
the river and filled it all in and it went very very hard and in the heaviest rain –
it was raised up above the ordinary level and trucks and cars and everything,
ambulances could come in without any fear of bogging. …The officer in
charge was Captain Clipsham, he was the officer in charge at Bulldog.” At pp.
127 – 129; Cf Likeman at 102 relating to the 18 November 1943 deployment
of another section of the unit to Bulldog.]
30 September 1943. On ACF Letterhead, in pencil, with regimental address,
censored by Captain S.B. “Sid” Clipsham.
My Dearest Marjorie, The letter I wrote yesterday was very hurried and
written under difficulties. So is this one. It raining like blazes – (I mean extra
hard) and this place is noted for its rain. We are all squeezed up in a marquee
which doesn't keep the rain out but of course, the temperature is high and we
are not cold at least. Tomorrow things should be much more comfortable as
we will be moving into huts.
Yesterday we had a couple of hours at the tubs – even our best friends
wouldn't have known us before. With a change of clothing and a shower to
lather the Lifebuoy we are now ready to entertain Royalty if necessary.
I mentioned the river which is some distance away from the camp. There are
plenty of fish in it so if we can get a stick of "jelly" we should do all right.
Crocodiles are very common. Most of the ones I've seen measured from five
to seven feet long. I had a shot at one but the bullet just bounces off unless
one can manage to hit them behind the front legs or through the eyes.
Nobody seems to pay much attention to them except for a bit of sport. At night
they make an unearthly noise when they are around and the night birds join in
the chorus.
224
Our first shock on entering the camp was a large black snake – he left in a
hurry. I'll make sure to have a look in my bed before retiring each night from
now on. Mozzies are not as plentiful as we have experienced in the last week
but there are millions of them just the same and they are Anopheles – the
Malaria Mosquitoes. I hope by “maintaining maximum malaria measures" to
beat them.
Boong boys do the washing for the hospital and help with odd jobs about the
kitchen. These coves are exceptionally strong from what I've seen of them.
One of them will lift, with ease, a log which two white men would find heavy.
No wonder they were able to do such a good job on the Kokoda Trail.
Yesterday morning Pross and I drove the jeeps down to pick up our gear. The
road in one part is made of split logs, laid side-by-side and not yet tied
together, so you can imagine the ride. I got stuck between the logs when
turning around but after a lot of sweating and swearing we manage to get her
out. The gear had to be carried about three quarters of a mile to this point and
that, lady, is long hard way in New Guinea's lousy climate. Last night I went
on a job along the river – saw a bit of the country with the high range in the
background – although most of the journey was just jungle and water running
fast over boulders.
That's about all I have to say this time sweetheart except that I'm well and I
hope you are too. I'm always looking for your letters so keep the old pen
working. Love to all at home. Extra special love and kisses for you from, Your,
Me
PS. Will be able to use ink next time – I hope.
***
October 1943.
Bulldog: jungle base, supporting the line.
***
2 October 1943. On ACF Letterhead, in ink, with regimental number censored by
Capt Clipsham
My Darling Marjorie, I'm settled in now and able to use pen instead of pencil. The
rain has just started again and the roof of the hut leaks a bit so I'll probably be
dodging the drips in a minute. At the moment nothing can be done to fix the roof as
there's a fair amount of establishment work to be done first but when the place has
been cleaned up we should be quite comfortable. The rainfall here is much higher, I
225
think. Last night it came down in torrents and the ground around about the camp is
pretty boggy. Proper draining will make things drier and more comfortable.
The hospital buildings are very good, considering the position. It's just as well we
don't have to rely on tents as the moist climate rots them in quick time.
Boong boys do the washing other than our personal clothing and they also help on
kitchen and general duties. One of the mission boys, is teaching us the lingo and
getting a lot of fun in so doing. Incidentally they don't work too hard – not nearly as
hard as the timber getters etc – but they're very strong in the shoulders when it comes
to lifting heavy weights or carrying logs for building.
The ambulances are jeeps, fitted up with two stretchers each. They are marvellous
little trucks for the job they have to do. I wish we had a camera so that we could let
you see what they look like. The canopy over the top is painted black with the Red
Cross on the front and there's no mistaking what they are. Two stretcher patients, two
sitters, a medical orderly and the driver is the full load but the trailer could carry a few
more if necessary. Some of the side tracks are very soft with bog holes covered by
water a foot deep but the jeeps can be navigated through them without much trouble.
The ferry across the river is a lakatoi attached to ropes on pulleys. One rope is made
shorter on the bow and the force of the water on the stern drives the craft forward on
the return journey the lengths of the ropes are reversed. Probably this idea belongs to
our engineers – it is very much like a sailing boat tacking across the wind.
6:30 PM. (NB. The evening downpour has begun). On my right is a gramophone,
bequeathed to us by the AGH boys – the record is "Tramp-Tramp-Tramp" (Nelson
Eddy". This old musical box is the only amusement we have at present.
The floorboards of split palm-trees keep the table bouncing as the lads walk through
to their bunks – that’s why I must now say Goodnight darling and sign off until a
more opportune time. Chin up, sweetheart and don't go overdoing it in the garden.
Love to all the family. The extra special kind to you from, Your, Me
PS. I haven't had any more letters – expect a batch tomorrow or next day. I almost
forgot to include the kisses and hugs.
***
4 October 1943. On ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number, no censor’s
signature.
My Darling Marjorie, Your letter 48 arrived yesterday with No. 52 (September 24) – I
think 48 must have been held up at HQ awaiting transport.
I wish that I could have taken you to the orchid show myself – flowers are the joy of
your life, aren't they? By the way the pressed pansie bloom reached me in good
condition. Was that one of your specials?
If you don't send along that photograph you had taken in the street I'll be very angry.
It's such a long, long time since I've seen you.
226
The books you mentioned haven't turned up but they'll get here eventually, I suppose.
And speaking of income tax – another letter came asking for further information
about "income from other sources" and "date of embarkation". I told them you are
receiving £1 a week from G P's – but felt like telling them to go to hell. It's a pity a
few more of those guys aren't on army pay to make them realise what sacrifice of
income means.
Betty's information about N G troops isn't quite correct as far as I can make out. The
report in Guinea Gold said that men in malarious areas were to be changed around
three times a year and troops in the tropics were to get home leave every 12 months if
transport was available. The underlined looks like a drag-necked clause.
Still we won’t interrupt our little dream of the small flat and that 24 days of heaven –
it will come true at last.
Bad luck the first prize in the lottery didn't come to me. How about us having a shot at
the next one to commemorate our anniversary. We could call it "Just You and Me".
I suppose the front lawn takes a lot of elbow grease to keep down after the heavy rain.
Dad will have the time of his life clipping the edges and pulling out weeds. Tell him
to "take it easy" until the old grass-cutter gets back. How are the pines at the back
growing, darling? Or have they withered and died?
The pictures of the new babe and family should be worth seeing – Bill will be tickled
to death to get a glimpse of his daughter for the first time. I can imagine proud poppa
showing the snaps to the boys.
LATER. The daily storm is brewing – it won't be long before she starts to pour. We
have just been down to see if the mall had arrived but no luck. Maybe tomorrow.
I'm afraid news from these parts is going to be very hard to find unless you're
interested in butterflies, insects and things that crawl. So far we haven't found any
gold – wouldn't it be lovely to find a big nugget. This particular part is not gold
bearing country but there might be some alluvial stuff in the river. I may get a chance
to do a bit prospecting later.
Now, dear, I will close and join the boys in a record recital. You'll be hearing from me
in a couple of days time. All my love and kisses to the sweetest girl in the world.
Always your, Me
PS. Do I love you too much. G
***
6 October 1943. On ACF Letterhead, in ink, with regimental number, censored by
Capt Richards.
My Darling Wife, This letter should reach you sometime around about October 14 as
far as I can calculate. Then it will be four years, darling, since we walked down the
aisle at St Albans. How I wish I could be with you for a celebration on that day. And
that thought brings a pang of regret about what happened on one anniversary when a
nice evening had been planned for me – remember? You were kind and forgave me
227
because of the circumstances but I wasn't pleased with myself for being so
inconsiderate.
I shouldn't have started off in that strain but when one begins to turn over the pages of
memory in these out of the way places, everything stands out clearly as if it happened
only yesterday. Best of all I remember the lovely times we have had together. How
we used to go shopping for things, gradually building our home, long before we were
married. I still think we made a good job of it, don't you? Wait until we have that little
castle of our own, complete with lavender walk and fountain and everything. Won't
those lovely pieces of furniture fit into the picture beautifully. I'm going to try to put
the plan on paper and submit it for your approval or otherwise. My greatest difficulty
is to get the roof on but that can be someone else's problem.
We were so pleased with ourselves when we hopped into the little movies after all the
fuss, were’nt we? Then the drive down the coast and Austinmer. Supper at the Kiosk
by ourselves. The trip couldn't have been better if had thought about it for weeks
beforehand and I bet nobody ever had a more enjoyable honeymoon. That's
something they can take away from us – as you would say. Could you ever forget
Tulip Time in Canberra – or the fish at Dalmeny. I can't help smiling when I think of
the lass at your Dad' s friend’s place – and your dismay. Poor kid. I think she got a
great thrill on seeing such a lovely lady standing before her.
Back at Austinmer and Mr Whosis telling us he knew we were honeymooners, (when
we thought it was a secret), because of the confetti in the garage. And wasn't it
heavenly to arrive at the flat and find everything ready to begin a new life. All thanks
to you.
There is no need for me to recall those happy days at Nortoft – I'm always doing that,
aren't I. Still I think of them often and long for the time when we can begin all over
again. The experience of the year's will help us to do the right things and we’ll live in
contentment. What more could we wish for!
Now sweetheart I'll say good night and go to bed with my thoughts. Keep safe and
well and don't be sad. Soon you'll be getting the "breaks". An extra special loving
kiss, a big hug with a wish that our next anniversary will be spent together.
Always your adoring husband, Me.
PS. Your words "as before" mean more to me than anything else I've ever read.
George.
•••
8 October 1943. On ACF Letterhead, in ink, with regimental number, censored by
Capt. Bill Richards.
My dearest Marjorie, There has been a mix-up with the mail and your letters haven't
been coming in their right order. In fact I have received only two in the last 10 days –
numbers 55 and 57. That makes three still on the way 53, 54, 56, doesn't it. I suppose
they'll turn up when someone sorts out their brains. Nobody in this section has had
any parcels from home since we arrived – and I understand there are a couple on the
way for Pross and I.
228
I hope the writing case doesn't go astray, darling. It will be most useful but you
shouldn't go squandering your money on me like that (now, don't say that that is not
the right thing to say, for I copied the words from you). I love getting presents,
especially when they are from you because you sure can pick ‘em, honey. Up in this
damp climate everything goes mildewy – particularly leather but I still have the
pillowcase you made me so I'll wrap it in that to keep out a bit of the moisture. You'll
notice how the ink runs on this paper – that's because of the dampness. I've had three
pairs of sox on a line, inside the hut, for two days and they are still wet and the sun
got through today.
The trees around the area are very tall (some 100 foot) with heavy foliage at the top
and vines twisted around the trunk. Their roots are mostly on the surface so you can
imagine what sometimes happens after a storm. I was greasing the jeep on a ramp in
the scrub the other day, when without warning, a huge tree, feet thick, toppled over
and gave me a dickens of a fright. It fell towards one of our huts but fortunately the
timber’s pretty thick in that part and it held the trunk of the tree – only the branches
came through.
They say New Guinea is a flying country and I think they're right. Every conceivable
shape and size of insect seems to fly – usually on to my neck or body. Those which
don't fly, crawl at a fast pace and mostly in the direction of our shelter. Today, I
pulled out some old boards which were lying under a tent and a big scorpion dashed
out. He looks like a prawn with claws and is the largest one I’ve ever seen.
Snakes and crocodiles are not worrying us so far – although last night a truck brought
in a fuzzy-wuzzy with snake-bite. After treating him and keeping him under
observation for a while our OC send him back to the boong camp and he seemed quite
o.k. I took him in my jeep ambulance in driving rain and the road was pretty bumpy
for a stretcher patient but he didn't make a sound. On arriving at the camp we were
greeted by the whole gang – all dressed in brief loin cloths. I've read about the
gentleness of the fuzzy-wuzzy angels of the Kokoda trail but this is the first time I’ve
seen any actually doing stretcher work. Very carefully they lifted the patient out of the
ambulance and carried him down the bank across a fast running stream which reached
up to their thighs. The time was about 9.45, the night dark, and the rain coming down
in sheets. Up the other side they went in a procession with a torch bearer leading the
way. I couldn't ford the stream so I left them to it. Two of them returned in a few
minutes with the stretcher and I said to them "If boys get sick you tell, master
(engineer in charge). "Yes, Tuppeta" they replied. These coves are big men with a
shock of fuzzy hair and they look ferocious but they are like timid children.
There is a tribe called Kooka Kooka’s who were headhunters originally I'm told. We
were warned about them before leaving HQ but we haven't seen any of them so far.
Our predecessors said they would pinch anything but were harmless unless interfered
with. I found one of their bows the other day – it belonged to the boy who does the
washing so I handed it back to him. I must try to get one to bring home for the boys.
Grass skirts are scarce here. I'll have to get some more down the river. Did you get the
one I sent a couple of weeks ago?
229
The usual rain storm was on time tonight and the river is high. It rises as much as six
feet in a night and drops almost as quickly. The lakatoi ferry broke loose yesterday,
making things more difficult. We're lucky we live on this side and don't have to cross
often.
Now for your letter. What a pity your young plants got such a bashing with the heavy
rain – moisture seems the main topic of conversation, doesn't it? You’d better try
protecting them with bushes while the rain lasts, said the old gardener.
Hurry up and let me have those photographs – I feel every envelope before opening it
to see if they are enclosed.
Brucie Howe hasn't written again and I'm rather glad because answering him is no
easy matter. Don't tell him that, though.
I hope your report about Anne is not serious as it sounds. She would be terribly upset
if she had to go into hospital again, I know.
I haven't noticed any orchids in this part, but you'll have one if they are about and I
can find them
Your little treasure box must be crammed full of souvenirs and memories. I remember
you told me about it once but I never could discover it.
Molly's and Bill's addition would bring joy to Grandpa's heart – I expect the next
bulletin will carry the announcement. It would be an opportune time to ask for a raise
in salary in normal times wouldn't it?
Pross tells me Mr Moore remembered him in his will – he thought a lot of the boys, I
think, but that was a surprise.
My letters ought to be reaching you regularly now we’re settled – I write every
second day without fail, even though I can't say much.
Sorry to hear your mother is not very well – I hope she and Dad will improve with the
warmer weather just around the corner. Be careful, darling and look after yourself – I
long for those good old times to come again. Good night now – and the sweetest
dreams. Extra special love and kisses from, Your, Me.
PS. Love to family. Who wins all the arguments these days? George.
***
10 October 1943. On lined, quarto sized ACF writing pad, in ink, with
regimental number censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Dearest Marjorie, I've three of your letters in front of me to answer,
September 27, 28, 30, (53, 54, 56). That brings my mail up-to-date – not bad,
eh?
You said you had Helen over for the weekend and took a lot of snaps. Hope
you didn't use all the films on her – you have a husband in New Guinea who
230
is waiting for photographs of you and Helen's husband probably has plenty of
her, anyway. Can I help that if I'm selfish – my wife's to blame for being so
camera-shy.
While we're on the subject – I don't think you should pay for your photograph
with the money I sent you for a present. That is an expense which should be
born by we, Us and Co., through our bankers. Be sure you buy something for
yourself – or else.
Don't forget to get the print of the photograph in the size to fit my wallet which
is 4 3/4 inches by 3 inches – I've just measured it
Yesterday I read in Guinea Gold that HMAS Shropshire had arrived in
Australian waters. If my memory serves me correctly that was the ship that Lt
Trevor Kolts was posted to a few months ago, so you might be seeing the old
Trev, shortly. It's strange that you should have mentioned having met Mrs
Kolts recently. If my information is right, won't Betty be throwing her cap in the
air.
You said Alan brought Anne down – does that mean that he is stationed
somewhere near Sydney. I believe that Cec is now at Wallgrove, too. We
used to grumble about being in such an inconvenient place at one time –
didn't know when we were well off, did we? Of course the 4:30 AM reveille– at
27 wasn't so good but I’d be willing to put up with that for the duration. How
would you like that, darling?
"In which we Serve" was screened on the island before our time and I didn't
see it. Glad you enjoyed it.
I made enquiries today about parcels from the mainland and was told it
sometimes take three months to reach here. So if you are sending anything
make sure it's packed in tin and well sealed.
Evidently you haven't received any letters from me from this location – they’ll
be there by now though (sounds a bit Irish but you get the idea).
Oh! About the raisins and sultanas – I enjoyed them immensely. I suppose I
forgot to mention a lot of things – my memory is not the best on eats. We
haven't had any sort of fresh fruit lately except paw-paws. Prunes or canned
fruit are on the menu about every second day. So we’re not so badly off. I
have acquired a liking for paw-paws – maybe it's because they are more tasty
here.
When I complained of the insects before I didn't know the half. Now they visit
the hut by the "millions" trying to get out of the rain. Even the flit gun doesn't
stop them. I'm becoming used to them gradually.
The latest bulletin arrived yesterday – no mention of Bill Farnsworth's
offspring. G. H. met Mrs. Roosevelt and gives his impression of the lady. Tall,
charming, dynamic, looking very tired – in fact everything already reported by
231
the newspaper. Pat said she captivates her audience and has a lovely turn of
humour. My Yankee friend who didn't like Eleonora must have been a
Republican.
The bundle of magazines hasn't turned up yet but they will be very welcome
when they do. Our reading matter is getting scarce.
I had to think for a while what public holiday you were speaking about – Eight
Hours Day of course but dates and days don't mean much here. Norma is
lucky to be able to get away for a break like that.
Your turn will come darling and I hope its soon. Christmas seems out of the
question so your idea of postponing killing the turkey is okay with me.
My supply of paper is exhausted sweetheart so that's all for tonight. The
mosquitoes are always a distraction, too.
All my love and extra special kisses and hug from, Your, Me
PS. The one dozen roses parody makes a hit with the boys – they've made a
few unprintable improvements.
***
12 October 1943. On airmail Lettercard, with penny stamp, in ink, with
regimental number, censored by Capt. Bill Richards.
My Dearest Marjorie, I writing this note after midday mess – mozzies are
getting too fierce at night. It's impossible to beat them with lotion or spray. The
only safe protection is under the net. A couple of our number are in hospital
with malaria already – we are all very cautious. However, both of them have it
in a mild form and should back on duty in a short while. Our M.O’s. take blood
smears to ascertain whether or not the malaria germs are present in the
bloodstream but so far I haven't felt it necessary to have the test- thank
goodness.
Today we have been rebuilding the road into the hospital and now it's raining
like blazes. The road will be like a mud pond but we hope to have it properly
drained in a couple of days and then things will be a bit easier. The (excised
by censor) jeep ambulances are in excellent order and they don't give any
trouble. Mine needs a new canopy and I'm going to have a shot at making
one myself as soon as I can.30 This type of vehicle as supplied has only two
small hoods at the head end of the stretchers to keep the weather off the
patient's heads and shoulders but our predecessors designed and made the
full canopy and the result is something which looks like an ambulance. The
patients keep dry inside and so does the driver. (Curse the roof, it's leaking)
and ruining my beautiful letter).
No mail today -- that's the chief complaint around the camp .We are in the
middle of the jungle and the base post office doesn't seem to give a damn
when we get our mail. To make matters worse the gramophone spring is
232
broken and the radio doesn't work. (I'm full of moans today aren't I?)
LATER. What a change! What a change! Darling I just been for the mail and
there were four for me from you. I've read through them and I'm happy to
know you're well and everything is smooth sailing – will reply in my next letter.
On the 14th I'll be thinking of you more than ever. Hope you're right about
next year. Love and kisses of the extra special brand. As always, me.
***
14 October 1943. On lined quarto sized standard writing pad, in ink, with
regimental number, censored by Captain Bill Richards.
My Darling Wife, This afternoon I'm thinking of Austinmer four years ago and
wishing I was stationed somewhere around Sydney. I bet I'd find some way of
getting home for the party and I'm sure it would be a bigger and better
celebration. Still it was not to be that way and the best I can do is to be with
you in spirit. Let's live and I hope that our fifth anniversary will be spent
together sweetheart and that there will be no more partings
I didn't receive a letter from you today but there was one yesterday making
five and all for me to answer. The last is numbered 62 and dated October 6 –
seven days to come from Sydney is not so bad in view of the fact that all mail
goes to HQ first. In every one of your letters you say you are expecting to
hear from me the next day. I thought that would be the case but unfortunately
I couldn't do anything about it. By this time you are getting a steady flow, I
hope and your mind will be eased. There isn't any need to worry when you
miss out for a couple of days – just blame the post office and poor transport
facilities. I shall have to depend upon you to give me the movie reviews in
future as the nearest mobile projection unit is 70 miles away and that's a long
way in New Guinea. "Commandos Strike at Dawn" is an old show but I didn't
see it. Don’t forget forget to make a special point of going to see "The Major
and the Minor" when it comes the Sydney – it's Ginger Rogers' best, in my
opinion.
Yes, every night before I go to sleep I think of you and wonder whether you
are doing likewise and what you are thinking of. That's how we’ll always be
while we are apart.
The boys are lucky to be able to run the car – business is still brisk, I suppose.
I read in Guinea Gold about the dreadful inconvenience racing crowds
suffered during the holiday weekend when there wasn't enough
accommodation to go around. How terrible! I hope they chucked their money
in the right direction.
Mother said in her letter, that she'd been to Hurstville for a couple of days – a
break like that is good for her and she should start a regular visiting round,
with the families for her health's sake. They all love to have her with them.
Pop's getting very old and it will take a long time for his thumb to heal. Still he
is very strong and can eat like a horse – and that should help him.
I'm not losing any sleep because of overwork. There's plenty to do but Rome
233
wasn't built in a day. Our worst enemy is fever and disease at present and we
are doing everything possible in the way of prevention. Food is very good
really – much better than I anticipated. Occasionally a small quantity of fresh
lettuce comes to us. Our cook is now making an excellent job of baking bread
but the chief items on the menu are tinned meats, meat and veg, beans and
service biscuits. Tinned peaches are a regular luxury, too.
I'm glad to hear you receive the "presents" o.k. – if you put it in the bank,
make sure you draw it out again and use it for the purposes for which it was
intended, won't you?
How’s the old apple tree growing, dear? Did you have to prune it this year or
are you waiting for me to hack away at it again? Also you haven't told me
how my little pencil pines along the fence are progressing. The heavy rain
should have been good for your roses – in all, I expect your garden is growing
quite well, Mary.
Pross is fit: so's your old man. Len Bass wrote today saying you were still at
the old place. We thought we'd missed him by a few days and were cussing
our luck. He tell us, he and the rest of the band bought a horse for £16 and
entered it in a race and it was beaten by three quarters of a length for first
place. They got their money back as the second prize was worth £24 –
sounds as if they're having a bit of fun up there, doesn't it?
When you see Dorothy Searle again, tell her I remember her very well – in
fact, I helped to bathe her, one day. Don't spare her blushes.
Speaking of the "cockies" at Nortoft – it's just as well you don't live in New
Guinea. You would be crazy in a week trying to exterminate the things that
crawl in out of the wet and that includes ‘roaches of the smaller variety. "Medu
e moi kira kira " which translated from Motu into pidgin is "rain, he come close
up" (going to rain soon),. Now it's raining mighty hard – our usual downpour –
and it is time for me to rig up my shelter.
Meet you in dreams tonight, sweetheart darling or at least I’ll be lying in bed
thinking of you. Extra special love and kisses and a big anniversary hug.
Always your loving husband, George
***
16 October 1943. On lined quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Captain Clipsham
My Darling Marjorie, It's Saturday afternoon – again and I bet dollars to peanuts you
are planning to write to me tonight. If I were at home we would be deciding whether
to go to the pictures or have a quiet little party by ourselves. Certainly Dad and I
would be strolling up the street to buy the paper and Norma’s screams earlier would
nearly have driven you crazy. All of which is just a spot of reminiscing before I begin
to scratch around for something to write about.
234
First thing that comes to my mind is the weather – it's raining hard after a very hot
day's work. The road into the hospital is beginning to take shape and should be
finished by the end of next week and then things will be easier. Hard work up here is
very fatiguing as the perspiration pours out of one's skin and the food doesn't seem to
build up the system. Maybe I'm wrong but that’s how it appears to me. Clothes can be
worn for one day only and so a man's washing is never finished.
Rats are beginning to make themselves a nuisance. They come after the biscuits the
boys keep in their boxes. Alan Willoughby [Pte. Alan Willoughby NX 138026], has
invented a patent rat-trap which is to be tried out for the first time tonight. He has
erected a see-saw on the top step and the bait is suspended from the string over one
end of the plank. The idea is for the rats to walk the plank to get the bait and slip off
into a bucket of water and drowned, we hope. I'll let you know the results of the
experiment, next time.
Yesterday the Amenities Officer called and left us a new set of quoits, a deck tennis
set and some other games. These ought to keep us amused for a while in our spare
time. You would laugh at some of the dice games they hand out for entertainment of
the troops. Can you imagine the boys sitting around having a nice evening of Ludo
and Snakes and Ladders – it's just too thrilling.
Four of us play Bridge occasionally, and have a little investment of a shilling a 100.
Up-to-date I’m five bob ahead but I’d be just as happy playing for fun.
Not that far from here on the airstrip are two wrecks with a lot of excellent ringmaking metal still on them. I intend to take a run down there one of these days and
take a hacksaw with me. At present I'm working on a pair of earrings for you – they
may be all right but I'm doubtful.
Pross has made a lovely little ring for Mary. I think she'll be thrilled with tit. I'd like to
get souvenirs for everyone but the natives in these parts don't seem to have much to
offer, apart from wooden combs, small lakatois and bows and arrows. The last named
would be very much appreciated by the youngsters but the trouble is to get them
home. Nothing over 3 feet is allowed through the parcel mail.
I had one of the boongs cornered this afternoon trying to get the low-down on how
they get married. He said "One boy buy wife six pound, seven pound, eight pound.
Givee wife’s father. Father he no work. “– and so on. From which I gather that a wife
can be bought for any amount, depending on her charms. The father of the girl gets
the money and with it buys "New Guin" products and seeds for his wife and family of
girls to plant in the garden to provide him with a few home comforts. I think I told
you the kekines do all the hard work in the villages while the men trail them around
with a stick, sometimes carrying the baby who can't walk. In spite of the state of
affairs, husbands are still hen-pecked as far as I can make out.
Tomorrow is our stand-down day and we hope to get a look see at the ferocious
Kooka-Kooka’s and their beautiful Mary's – they may be more interesting.
Now sweetheart darling there is nothing more to say so good night and God bless. All
my love and kisses and hugs, As always Your, Me.
235
PS. No mail today – perhaps I'll have luck tomorrow
***
18 October 1943. On lined quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Captain Bill Richards.
My Darling Marjorie, I received two of your letters yesterday – October 9 and 10-11
– the parcels are still on the way. Before I forget had better give you a few points on
packing parcels for up here. They take anytime up to 3 months, (I believe) to reach
their destination so its not much use sending things that perish easily. If you send
cakes sweets or anything like that, be sure to pack them in a tin. I saw a mailbag
recently which looked as though it had been standing in a pool of water and you can
imagine how the cardboard packages suffered. That perhaps was an outstanding case
and the service may be better in future but it's advisable to pack everything very
securely to be on the safe side. I don't know whether you registered the writing case
but that is what you should do with valuable articles – it doesn't cost much and
registered parcels are the responsibility of the Post Office. I'm very anxious about that
present as the moist atmosphere sends leather blue mouldy – however we shall see
what we shall see.
These months are the "dry" season, I'm told. The "wet" starts at the end of November
and perhaps we wont have to worry about it.
Leave is now a distant hope I'm sorry to have to say but it's quite likely that after New
Guinea we’ll have a good spell on the mainland – my own observation of course.
You seem to be getting more than a fair share of rain in Sydney, too, and in a way I'm
lucky because it means more letters from you. I can take as many as you can write,
darling
Gran "Taylor's" death will be a great loss to little Helen – it's a pity she wasn't sent to
boarding school if her parents can't give her the attention she needs. She'll grow into a
very attractive woman I think and she should have the chance to make good.
Cec's big romance appears to have left its impression on him – he'll get over it quickly
though, I bet. He’s too easy-going to mope over those sort of things.
You asked about our quarters in one letter. Really they are excellent and all we have
to do is make improvements on a very good foundation provided by our predecessors.
The small leaks in the roof of our hut can be fixed easily when the material is
available and before long an electric light generator is to be installed. I have a very
comfortable bed with a framework to hold my mosquito net, a wooden cabinet for my
belongings and a table on which I do all my writing. The floorboards are too springy
and cause the table to bounce when anyone walks in, but a couple more saplings
underneath will remedy that – and then I'll have no excuse for my scrawl.
The hospital buildings and mess huts are easily the best in the area and things are
always busy. (Next three lines excised by censor)... it's not prevalent in these parts.
236
Insect bites need to be watched carefully or they develop into tropical sores.
Otherwise, this is a "glorious jungle paradise" – oh yeah.
Pross is fit and well – me, too. Today he’s working on the road and I'm having a rest
day in the cool of the hut. I was on duty yesterday so didn't see the Kookas as
anticipated. A few of the lads went fishing without success. Better luck next time we
hope. Karua, our bright boy had the time of his life picking up the fishing grounds in
the river but he said Tappeta further up river frighten fish – no good Sunday; some
other day.
I received Liz's letter and she is thrilled with her blue-eyed redhead – looks like
everybody agrees Susan is the prettiest baby they've ever seen. I thought Guy might
object to having his slumbers disturbed, but it seems the little lady is very considerate.
I'll wait until I hear from Dulce before sending my cheers. She hasn't written for a
long time – probably waiting for something to write about.
Bruce said he still waits in the background for Auntie Ciss’ kiss – poor old soul, give
her my love.
Bob Sutton is not likely to be in these parts and the chances of meeting him are pretty
remote but I'll keep a look-out for him. I haven't met anyone, I know, so far.
Now, sweetheart its mess time so goodbye for now. Love and kisses and a big
birthday hug – Ever your loving husband, George
PS I'd like to be around to collect that birthday kiss. Enclosure from Guinea Gold
about covers the situation. G.
***
20 October 1943. On lined quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Captain Clipsham
My Dearest Marjorie, The missing link in your chain of letters came on Tuesday with
number 66 (dates October 8 and 13). I couldn't make out why you hadn't mentioned
that you’d begun to receive my letters once more and I hadn't realised that number 63
was outstanding. However everything's o.k. now and we can carry on as usual.
I'm sorry about Bill Rowse – next time you see his mother ask her where he was when
she last heard from him. Wasn't he somewhere in New Guinea?
Only one batch of papers has arrived so far and I'm not surprised after reading what
happens to bundles of papers and parcels addressed to soldiers. "Smith's Weekly" has
been making some startling revelations on these matters lately and it may bring some
results.
The trip on the river was very enjoyable although hot and at night mosquitoes had a
great feast on the best mosquito bait in the world. You have seen pictures of hunters
stalking game in flat bottomed boats on a jungle river – well the scenery is very much
like that. Nearly one hundred miles of navigable water from 30 to 50 yards in width.
237
Nearer the source the river runs over big boulders and is just a stretch of rapids. A
great amount of erosion goes on so the river is always stained with yellow mud where
it runs out on to the flats. Tumbling over the rocks it's crystal clear of course but the
water is not safe for drinking as the natives use it for every conceivable purpose.
These people are good swimmers using a sort of crawl to get along and they can swim
a long way underwater. They are very simple folk and unfortunately are being spoiled
by the troops as far as I can see. After the war, I think the job of controlling them will
be much more difficult.
I'm looking forward to a crocodile hunt but the white man's guns and boats are driving
them further afield. Kurua says his sister and uncle were taken by crocs and
everybody cry. He probably means two of the tribe were taken.
This morning Karua and Kavena (spelling may not be correct) climbed a tree about 70
or 80 feet high and tied a rope on it for us, so that we could drop it in the right
direction. They are like monkeys when climbing. With the aid of a rope around their
ankles, they shin up the trees without any effort it seems. After the job was completed
they looked very pleased with themselves and said "Namou Headia", (very good),
[more accurately “namo heria’].
I'm afraid it would not be much use sending a film as we haven't a camera which is a
pity because here is New Guinea in the raw. Another difficulty is to have the film
developed for the censor to pass.
I’ll tell you what I think of your new hairdo when the photograph comes along, also
I'll be thrilled to see how you look in a grass skirt – has it turned up, yet?
Tell Norma I think she's mean not letting me have the first lot of prints – her friends
probably only want to look at themselves, anyway and they can always look in the
mirror.
Pross got a cake from his Five Dock girl yesterday – it was two months in transit but
quite okay. We polished it off "extra quick".
I don't think I know the type of flowering blossom you are so keen on that you shall
have it whatever it is, if I can get it. My experience with trees should make me an
expert – up here, trees grow inches while one watches them (more or less). So fast is
the growth that the roots come out of the ground and consequently falling timber is a
very common sight or sound. The rotting vines have to be watched, too.
The pines in your back garden will grow stronger in their trunks if you cut them back
at the tops. Your chief trouble is lack of sun at the roots I think – those trees will
never be as healthy as the ones in the front.
I haven't heard from the Income Tax Department for some time now and maybe the
position is beginning to sink into their thick skulls!
4:30 PM Another letter from you this afternoon Darling and I'm very pleased to hear
you received mine on October 14. I’ll reply next time. By the way I almost forgot to
mention your wire reached me on October 18 after having been received at base on
238
October 12. Never mind it was appreciated just as much as if it had been here in time.
Thank you for the lovely thought sweetheart
Time for my shower now – I'll have three tonight – one going over, one under the tap,
and one coming back. From which you will gather that it's raining again.
Goodbye darling girl with my extra special kisses and hugs, as always, Your, Me.
***
22 October 1943. On lined quarto writing pad, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Capt Clipsham
Darling Wife, Now I'll answer your letter of October 14 which arrived on
Wednesday. The time is about 12.30 and we've just had our kai – herrings, asparagus
and pawpaw and a bit on the ika pose. I always enjoyed a good slice of fresh bread,
well buttered, didn't I, so next time it comes my way I bet it will taste like a banquet.
I hadn't thought of that little surprise I gave you on the occasion of our second
anniversary but now you recall that I do remember the great pleasure there was in it
for me too. It's strange but selecting a present for you was never difficult I suppose
the reason is that our tastes run along parallel lines. Your biggest joy is yet to come
but you won't get that until I come home to give it to you personally. You'd better
start looking around for that spot of good earth on which we are to lay the foundations
for the future – that's about the biggest job of all but you'll have to decide on that
point as I'm only the man who will be coming home at night.
In previous letter you cleared up the question of "Do I love you too much?" And I
forgot to tell you what I thought of your summing up. Everything was very clear and I
got a great kick out of it – you're my big moment and I hope I can live up to your
expectations
Mother mentioned the tea party in her last letter --- said she had a little something on
the ice in case the boys in green came in. That's what I call super-optimism. I bet it
would take only a "little” to stand me on my head after the drought.
[3 lines excised by censor], we hope so anyway. Next we have to clean up the debris
around the camp and make a few improvements – and we’ll probably have more time
to have a look around. And that my darling ends my say-so for today. Keep up the old
pecker and look after yourself. My fondest love and kisses are all for you, sweetheart.
Always Your, Me
***
24 October 1943 On lined quarto writing pad, in ink, with regimental number,
censored by Capt J H “Bill” Richards
My dearest Marjorie, Today is the day and as it happened it's my rest day so I'll be
able to spend most of it on my spine. Thank you darling for all your good wishes and
the present which is still on the way.
239
The mail has been very poor during the past few days but last night I got yours of
October 15 – written after your afternoon tea party at 22 Wolsely Street – very glad to
hear that you had a happy time. Mother's a dear isn't she, and I suppose Julie was
fussing around, too, fixing up the big banquet and bouquet. Sorry I didn't send the one
dozen roses but I read how the Yanks had cornered the flower market in Sydney. My
sincerest hope was that our rose bushes were flourishing and that you are able to pick
a nice bunch of blooms. Another thing against shop bought roses, most of them are
wired and that is simply not done, my dear.
Last night it rained cats and dogs and portion of our sisalcraft roof blew off. However
we were able to repair it before the light faded and saved the situation. Rain in these
parts is usually preceded by a slight windstorm and a shower of leaves and falling
pieces of vine--- and every one rushing to get their washing off the line. The clothes
lines, incidentally are long strips of vine cane – not wire or rope – so there's no
shortage of hanging space. Which reminds me I have my washing to do – a faded
green suit. I have taken your advice about the daily rinse and even if they don't look
the best at least they are clean.
Another pest has come to light in the last few nights – rats. They are all colours and
sizes, black brown, brindle and pie-bald – I see them rushing across in front of the
headlights of the jeep when I'm driving along. Allan Willoughby's trap wasn't
successful. They fell for it but they are strong swimmers and evidently high jumpers.
Even a 44 gallon drum couldn't hold them. From now on – we are reverting to the
regular spring-break-back type of attack concentrating on disguising the bait.
Gradually we are picking up the "boong" talk but I think the "boys" are improving
their English at a much faster rate. Poivari can say in terribly terribly "pukka" voice –
"Beer is very very good. Off the aice it's bloody naice" and his greeting is "How are
you too-day, this afternoon Tappeta?" "I am verry very good". Often he goes to three
"verys". Souvenir making is the latest craze among the boongs. They whittle away at
lumps of wood with a knife and turn them into combs and lakatois in quick time. Our
own lads are working on metal and perspex from plane wrecks – that includes me.
Best of all are the baskets the natives make from sago palm or some such – I'm trying
to get one for you for Christmas. Pross has sent a couple of lakatois for David and
Norman so you can have a look at them and tell me if you'd like one for an ornament.
They might be all right as a vase stand if there are no borers in them. I'll collect
anything I think worthwhile anyhow.
My washing has to be done sweetheart, so I'll leave you here.
Goodbye until you hear from me again in a couple of days. All my love and kisses to
my best girl. As always, Your, Me
***
26 October 1943. On lined quarto writing pad, in ink, with regimental number, no
censor’s signature evident.
Dearest Marjorie, Your second hundredth letter isn't far off – tonight I received
number 70. And last night your parcel containing Bonox, Horlicks, condensed milk
240
etc arrived with a couple of bundles of magazines. Everything was saturated with
water but of course the tinned stuff was okay. We were able to dry out the raisins and
eat them. As a matter of fact nothing at all was wasted. Pross got a parcel of sweets
from Mother in the same bag and although they were very sticky, they were enjoyed
by all. Unfortunately, I had seen all the magazines before as they had been in transit
for such a long while – August dates, I think. The lot including "Man" hasn't shown
up yet but it will, Oscar, it will – I hope.
Cool frocks and bare legs are signs of approaching summer – and sunburn. Reminds
me of the good old baking days on the back lawn with a couple of blondes. Although
I'm in New Guinea I haven't lost my eye for beauty and in "Life" I spotted the
Churchill coat which you might not have noticed. Picture enclosed may give your
dressmaker the idea if you are interested. As you will see this is an austerity coat for
beach, day and evening wear – and she's not a bad sort is she? About the same model
as "my best gal".
It's no good you telling me about your lovely hairdo. I want a picture of it before I can
pass judgment – so hurry up and get that film for the camera. The grass skirt should
make you look exotic – better wear something underneath though as my temperature
may hit a new high. Norma was curious to know whether the kekenis wear anything
under the thatch. They don't but their skirts are much thicker and shorter, like a
ballerina’s dress without a bodice. The style is unattractive and not at all to be
compared with the familiar picture of the island girl revealing a shapely brown knee
through her calf length skirt. Somehow the kekenis remind me of ostriches with black
legs – maybe I haven't been lucky enough to see the good lookers yet.
In her letter to Pross, Mother said she was going to put the date of dispatch on all
parcels so that we can check the actual time they take to reach here. Sometimes they
make the grade in under six weeks. I've heard that the postmark is not always clear.
My deduction about Trevor being on the Shropshire might have been a bit astray.
Quite possibly the stationery he used was obtained when he was inspecting the ship.
Three things I'll ask you not to put on the table for my meals when I come back home
dear: – camp-pie, baked beans and apple jelly jam – New Guinea paw-paws are "extra
good" better than any I’ve ever tasted before.
Your telegram and Norma's were a day late which is a marvelous effort for the Army
Post Office. Thanks again darling for your lovely messages – the bottle you spoke of
will be all the better for the maturing won't it?
I wrote to Colin Bell last and gave him your kind regards – Joe is not with us – I think
he’s further north but don't know for sure.
Daylight has faded, darling so here's where I finish. I'll keep you up to all those
promises you made me and you'll be busy. Good night now sweetheart. Love kisses
hug as always, your, Me
***
241
28 October 1943. On ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number but censor’s
signature missing because paper has frayed away.
My dearest Marjorie, Record mail for me today – five letters and two telegrams.
Yours was dated October 20 (71). The boot seems to be on the other foot now – you
are missing out and I'm doing alright. Never mind it will work out one of these days.
I'm always happy when I know you are well – so look after yourself darling, won't
you. I'm feeling pretty fit but this climate seems to sap all my energy and the food is
not the best for hard work. Still we are not pressed to do hard work and gradually
things are getting straightened out. I bet if I had two days of your cooking I could run
the mower over the lawns like a two-year-old – (horse, not egg).
Being fed up and blue is a common complaint in the army and there's nothing you can
do about it. I feel that I’d be a lot happier if we were closer to the front line and seeing
more action. Not that I'm anxious to get "bumped off" but at least it wouldn't be as
dull as waiting around for something to happen. Pross and I just missed out on a trip
right forward and we were very disappointed. However, as Ding Dong says we are a
"supreme detachment" and there are no whistles or rushing around on parades. And I
don't think our efficiency is impaired. I received a letter from Col today by the way. It
was couched in very flowery terms: telling me how much he disliked the present state
of affairs and how sorry he was in couldn't join us. When we left he almost broke
down and said to the CO "You're sending all my best pals away, Sir." The old Col
might be eccentric in some ways but his heart’s in the right place and I'm sure he
wouldn't let you down in a tight corner. A lot of the big brave guys who politely sneer
at him would probably be conveniently missing at the psychological moment.
I had a letter from Dulce saying that you had been visiting her – she told me about her
disappointment, too. Your sisters sure do confide in me, don't they and I'm glad they
do. Nothing like telling someone else your troubles and getting them off your chest.
I'm pleased to hear that you met Padre Ridley31 – he's an extremely nice person to talk
to and he still sends me copies of tracts with a message on the inside covers. I knew
that he wanted to come over here with the unit and even the most wayward amongst
us would have appreciated his presence. Creed or sect has no place in his teachings. I
suppose that grand old man Hugh Paton cracked a joke about something or other just
to show that it's not wrong for people to be happy in church. Did you tell him we
called over to see him four years ago and he was out – I believe he was in South
Australia at the time wasn't he?
There's nothing more to say about leave – it just rests with the powers that be as I said
before. Perhaps the 10% at a time method will be re-instated but it hasn't been
mentioned yet. You can console yourself in the fact that the longer we’re away the
more leave we’ll get when it does come along. Not much help though is it?
Outside the hut is a sea of rainwater and from the blotches in this letter you will
gather that our roof is still in the state of disrepair – I couldn't care less dear girl –
Have to do a bit of mopping up before lighting the lamp so gubbye, now. Bless your
little heart – – I'll tell you what you want to know when I get home. All my love extra
special for tonight kisses and hugs. George.
242
[The letter reproduced above from Padre Riley
was kept by Marjorie in a separate folder entitled
“Letters from my Sweetheart George”]
243
***
30 October 1943 . On ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number, and no
indication of censor's identity.
My Dearest Marjorie, Who just had breakfast and I'm starting this letter while waiting
for the tram to take me to work – that should help me catch up on my mail.
The "wet" season has begun, I think – last night it rained continuously from 4:30 PM
to the dawn and the night before it was just as bad. The river is right up and running
fast so the rain must be general. I had a shot at the fishing yesterday – with the line –
that the water was too turbulent and the best I could do was catch numerous snags and
lose a hook or two. "Jelly" is the most effective means of getting a feed-- just throw in
a stick and blow up a few dozen.
LATER. (I'm still floundering around trying to find something to write about –)
In with this letter are two arm bands which one of the "boys" gave me (for a bob).
They wear these things themselves for decoration or something. Some of the ones
with yellow strips entwined through them aren't bad but these are pretty poor – I'll try
to get more colourful ones later. They are a novelty if nothing else
What a stir there would be in Sydney if a few of the Fuzzies were taken down George
Street in their native garb. The general run of them wear only a "G" string and when
it's raining they twist a banana palm around their mops to keep dry. They seem to love
dressing up with ferns and leaves – and bright coloured pieces of cloth are all the rage
when they go visiting each other. Flowers are very few and far between in those parts
– occasionally I see a flowering plant growing but the climate is too moist for many
of them.
How are your veggies coming along now that Spring is here? I couldn't quite make
out from Norma's diagram of the redesigned garden, whether you’d dug up the lawns
at the back or whether you are working on a section only. If the soil is good enough
you could grow everything you wanted in that space. Wish I could help you with the
heavy digging, because I'll want my share of the products. Hope you are still sparking
on all cylinders, darling and keeping the leaves in check. All my love and kisses, dear
sweetheart,
Ever your own, Me. PS love to all the family.
***
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November 1943.
Bulldog; rain, kuku-kukus and fuzzie-wuzzie angels with
names.
1 November 1943. On lined quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, censored by Captain J.H. Bill Richards.
My Darling Marjorie, I'm very lucky with the mail these days – seven on Saturday
and five on Sunday. Three from you to answer and one from Mitch which I am
enclosing. Hughie is the only one to come in to complete the circle.
Cec said that he met Major Holcombe and no doubt by this time you have had some
first-hand news of the doings. At one stage the Major asked the CO for us to go on a
job with his section but we missed out at the last moment because there wasn't enough
work for transport drivers. Still we were lucky to be put on the next draft with an OC
who will do us. Here we see operations performed under pretty difficult conditions,
compared with those of a modern hospital and I can tell you, an MO's job is not an
easy one in a post like this. We are short of an electric generator at present and one
operation was done by the light of a hand torch. Later we rigged up the a jeep
headlamp and a 6 V battery for a second lot of surgical work and the only remark the
OC passed was "Conditions could have been worse" or something to that effect.
Now I'd better start to answer your letters, darling – my stand-down day today, by the
way. I can picture you sitting at the little white kitchen table writing away under the
bright light. Not a bad spot is it? I often think of that little table and our "parties" on it.
Norm is getting a regular week-end flitterer, from all accounts. She should get out the
sun and fresh air for her health’s sake. Sorry to hear Dad's still suffering with his old
complaint – he hasn't much chance of getting rid of it now but the tonic the doctor
prescribed may give him some relief – I’ll be able to give him temporary relief on
Saturday nights when I come home, of course.
We are not having a great deal of peaches these days – the rot has set in, I think.
However we are not doing too badly with the supply of bananas and paw-paws. They
are green but the heat should ripen them quickly. It's a wonder there is not more fruit
grown here – the climate should be suitable.
What did Dorothy Searle say when you told her how much I knew about her? Or
didn't she care. Is she still staying with Mother?
Yesterday I heard that a movie unit is on its way to this area. That should brighten up
things considerably for us.
Your extra special message for my birthday was received – remember how we used
talk about our bits and pieces. Incidentally have you heard anything about how our
furniture is faring at Treleavens – not much you can do about it anyway, is there.
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Padre Ridley seems to have taken a liking toyou – well who doesn't. Must be the
"oomph".
"Snowy" Rainbow,[Pte. J.E. “Snowy” Rainbow, NX 80396], has malaria now,
making the total 3 to date. The other two are better and on-the-job once more.
The rats are under control, no thanks to Alan's snare. They wouldn't look at the spring
trap but just cleared out in disgust.
You couldn't get a ‘gramo spring I'm afraid darling but thank you for the offer. We’ve
sent the old one up to the workshops to be welded and it may do for a while longer.
It's really not much of a loss as records get very stale after being played a few times
I am still waiting for my birthday present to turn up – it's probably held up on the
mainland awaiting the Army Post Office's pleasure (read Smith's Weekly re delays).
The Christmas cake has a good chance of getting here on time seeing they’ve three
months to play around with it.
As far as I know we have never been photographed but a couple of months ago, an
official cameraman took some shots while the planes were being unloaded. I think
only the patients were in it.
Mac Merrywethers is fortunate to have had leave so soon--- his connection with the
Airforce would make it easier. How is Mrs M, – still thinking along the same lines? I
wish I could have got into touch with Mac before he left. He might be looking me up
one of these days and arranging a plane trip for me. As long as it's Sydney way I'll be
satisfied.
Now dear I'll close this "scratching" letter. Give my love to Mum Dad and Sugar –
Mum needs a good glass of Orlando's best for that cold of hers. Best regards to all the
gang. For you sweetheart darling, there's a big kiss with all the trimmings. Always
your, Me
PS. Do you remember that old light cord in the front lounge room. It lasted a long
time didn't it?
Heard from HQ yesterday that leave is on again – better not hope for it coming my
way soon. It will take two years to get around the lot at the present rate. G.
***
5 November 1943. On quarto sized, lined writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, The broken spring of the gramophone is fixed and the boys are
giving it the works. The record playing at the moment is "Teddy-Bear's Picnic" –
remember the stage-horse at GPs dance when I was the tail – you were neglected
pretty much that night, weren’t you? ("Never no more, but").
This gramophone is depriving me of my seat at the table but I have a good substitute
in my low-boy or high-boy – I think it will be a permanent change.
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Today's mail plane brought four letters from you – counting the two in one envelope.
Your numbering is up to putty lately. You are a few behind but it doesn't matter as
long as I know there are no letters missing.
Before getting around to answering them, let me tell you everything is "hunky-dory"
with Pross and self. The malaria bug is still being held at bay thank heavens. I have a
few mocha bites on my legs nothing to speak of and Pross has his hives or heat rash
again. Otherwise we are 99 2/3% in the pink
The weather's about the same. Rain and more rain. Yesterday the procedure was
reversed – it rained in the morning and at night the moon almost struggled through the
clouds.
This morning we had a death in the hospital. The "boy" who was so badly burned died
in the early hours. Everything that was possible was done to save him but no human
being could have lived through that. He had a marvellous constitution and it seemed
that he had a chance and he was very grateful for what was being done for him. Poor
blighter leaves a wife and four youngsters. I helped to lift the body to wrap it in a
blanket and then took it down to the native quarters. News travels fast here and along
the road the "boys" on their jobs came to attention as the ambulance passed. On
reaching the point they stood around in solemn silence and lifted the stretcher gently
on to the lakatoi. The more I come in contact with these people the more I admire
them for their sympathetic feelings towards each other.
This afternoon I had to take another one of them, with malaria to an Angau hospital –
he was very weak and sick too. Don't gather from this that our chief work is to look
after natives. All of our patients are our own lads and only in exceptional cases are
natives treated here. Angau has its own medical services which are more or less
guided by our M.O.s. [Editors note: ANGAU, the Australian New Guinea
Administrative Unit, the civilian administration entity responsible for civil
administration in PNG during and for a time after the war]
Isn't this a lovely discussion in a cheerful session.
Anyway I'm very happy to hear that you and the family are feeling brighter, including
the two girls. Comparing Anne's height with the white chair (in photo) I can see how
much she has grown. The snaps aren't so hot, are they? Still I was pleased to be able
to "see" you after such a long time, darling what a pity you didn't have one taken by
yourself. Dad always was a good model – your mother looks as if she's been on the
"bombo". Anne and Norma look like sick fish trying to say "cheese". I can't mention
Norma's friend because I don't know her. Alan's picture is very good. Best of all. I
like the one of you in the family group. In the others you are either frowning or
looking down. Now that I've torn the photographic art to pieces, I'll start to crawl back
to favour by saying you are all beautiful and it's a big thrill for me to be looking at
you in the old home surroundings. How I wish I could have been there to help direct
the "takes" – in spite of what Norma say my direction is good isn't it, dear. I forgot to
appreciate the good figures and legs and smart frocks; also the garden full of daisies
and what remains of the Seagrove-Tory monument. Even the ladder and Dad and
Mum gate-crashing in some of the backgrounds put me in a good mood. I'll keep
247
these records of home wherever I go and look at them often – they're lovely. Was it
your idea to include the good old apple tree – it's almost sacred now, isn't it?
The books and magazines haven't shown up yet, nor have any of the parcels.
Everyone is in the same boat in that regard so we'll need a truck to collect them when
they do come, I suppose.
Your description of a typical Saturday night at "Nortoft" makes my mouth water. A
big goblet of Tooth's Sydney bitter right out of the ‘frig and backed up with fresh
Promax with dobs of butter and slices of cheese – how common but so very, very
nice. If I turn on the radio, will you join me in the lounge for a quiet evening at home.
O.K. about the "good earth" sweetheart – if you would rather wait until I got back. I
thought you might hear of something good and like to grab the opportunity to buy it
and your judgement will do me in anything.
Little did I think those rose bushes in the front, would have been so valuable when we
planted them. They did the right job at the right time and I'm still thankful to nature
for helping me out. There is nothing more beautiful than a bunch of fresh rose-buds
and I can understand how much you love them
Here's another "don't". Don't take too seriously my remarks about the first lot of snaps
– you know me, Al. I am going to expect the lot showing the grass skirt in every letter
from now on, so go to it, lady or I'll be disappointed.
You are still my darling little "pusher around of furniture" from all accounts. Square
pegs won't fit into round holes, dear, and you will have to get Mandrake to help you
to make more space in your room. I'm thankful that we didn't have a piano for you to
push around at the flat. How is the ‘frig going – did you have it serviced when it
started to play up?
I haven't been able to buy a shopping basket for you yet. The industry is not a
flourishing one by any means. However one "boy" he make good one and he make
you basket one time, I'm sure.
And that sweetheart darling answers your four letters in 10 pages – fair exchange?
Needless to say your loving messages make me happy and I long to be near you more
than ever. For a while I'll have to be content with my memories and dreams, like you.
The three words are still as true as they were when I first met you-- only they are
mellowed by the years.
Keep the old chin up, Princess and we’ll soon be on the sunny side. Kisses and hugs
from, Your, Me
PS. Better not tell Norma she's beautiful – hats are scarce. And anyhow she only runs
second to you at the best of times. (You can tell her that) G.
***
248
6 November 1943. On quarto sized, lined writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My dearest Marjorie, It's Saturday night, raining and a "swing" session is about to
begin. Before the boys get into the "groove" I'll try to pen you a few lines in answer to
your letter written last Sunday and received this afternoon. You've got me all "hed up"
in anticipation of seeing you in the grass skirt – my little white kekeni. I suppose
you'll be using the skirt for sunbaking on the back lawn in future.
Darling, on looking at the snaps of the family group more closely, I think it's a pretty
good shot of you. How about asking Bruce to enlarge it for my wallet. On the back of
the last page of this letter I will make a tracing of the section that should come up
well.
Glad to hear you joined Saturday night's children and went to the flicker-chatters.
Joan Crawford gives me a big pain in the brain too – she is either a has-been or a
never-wasser.
Getting cool in the jungle is practically impossible during the day but late at night the
temperature drops considerably. You'll be surprised to hear that there is a kerosene'
‘frig in the hospital so we have a few ice-cubes in our morning drink of orange or
grapefruit juice. That is one way we have of making up for the lack of vitamins in our
food – not bad, eh?
I had forgotten about Dad's birthday last Saturday – tell him I'm coming in this late to
wish him many happy returns of the day. Sorry I couldn't be there to share a bottle of
Harbottle Brown's mule-kick with him. I'll put some "oomph" into his veins when I
come home again, dear. We’ll start the Saturday night double in no uncertain manner
if Mum doesn't mind holding up tea for a few "minutes".
I thought you’d forgotten the "just you and me" syndicate – hope we have some luck
this time. Anyhow "nothing ventured nothing gained" as the saying goes.
Pross and the rest of the boys devote a good deal of time talking of leave plans and
dames. Me-too – but only one for me
The session is now well in progress and the song of the moment is "I don't wanna
walk without you" which is quite appropriate. Signing off now darling until tomorrow
morning. Bye-bye for tonight.
Sunday Morning November 7.
The sun is sweltering down on the little camp and drying up the moisture – it's a
typical jungle morning. Jap commandos raided us in my dreams last night. I couldn't
get my rifle off the peg and the bullets were packed away in my haversack – as usual
in these circumstances but as far as I can remember, we won. Bonox sure does
stimulate the subconscious mind.
Pross just showed me a letter from Frank at HQ – says he's going farther up. Poor old
"Dina" and Ding Dong" miss out again.
249
Well darling, my washing is done and I’ve finished for the day and there's very little
more to say. Fondest love to all at home and my regards to Bill when you write. Extra
special big love and kisses for you. As always, Your, Me.
PS The tracing for the enlargement is on the back – not too good is it. George.
***
9 November 1943. On ACF Letterhead, in ink,with regimental number, censored by
Capt Bill Richards.
Printed censor’s notation at foot of letterhead reads: IN YOUR LETTER DO NOT
REFER TO: the name of your transport, or other transports to your convoy. .dates of
sailing…ports of call ..destination, description of troops, or other information which,
if intercepted, will be of value to the enemy.
My darling Marjorie, It's now about 6.30 and the sun is shining which is news. Half
an hour or so ago it was raining like the dickens and blowing. The roof of the hut
lifted and the river from the skies flowed onto my bed. I sleep close to the front of the
hut which is not covered in at all so you can imagine what a lovely time I have with
driving rain in. Pross is in the same position opposite. Often, I think it would be drier
outside.
Tonight after tea there was a terrific crash outside the mess hut. We all rushed out to
find a big tree uprooted right alongside our good road – missed it by inches. Luckily
nobody was anywhere near it when it fell. A tall palm tree snapped off close by on the
previous night but this was held up by a thick vine until the boys cut it down. Also,
lightning struck a tree somewhere along the road last night and one lad was slightly
injured – burned, I think – nothing serious. It's not strange that so many things should
happen to trees in these parts – there are millions of them and they are falling and
rotting all over the place. The growth is very rapid and the wood is full of moisture.
It's heavy wood and the trunks of the trees are upwards of 70 feet with branches and
foliage on the top. The roots are visible on the surface so it takes only a slight breeze
to topple them over. Now you've got the lowdown on the tall timbers, darling.
We were having a little swingaroo last night when someone spotted a nice big gai-gai
slithering across the duckboards. I ups and grabs me cane and gave it a wallop across
the back of the neck. After three or four in quick succession he reared up and fell back
under the boards. Bob raked him out to make sure he was dead. In case you don't
know what a gai-gai is – it's a snake. Poivari said this morning "Dis one, he kissem
boys yesterday, time finish today" [Editor’s note: probably :’Disela snek, sapos emi
kissem boi asterday, em dai pinis tude”], from which I gather that if this kind of snake
bites you you’ll be dead in 24-hour or less, if not treated. I read in "Pocket Handbook"
about the species of asp which hails from New Guinea – haino or some such name.
These pleasant little fellows can do the job in ninety seconds, states the report.
Whether this is authentic or not I do not know but you can bet Californian chocolates
to hundreds and thousands I won't take any chances with any kind.
Now about this mail position – it's lousy. When I don't get a letter for three days the
Army Post Office comes in for some abuse. Their ears must burn sometimes.
Yesterday I received the July issue of "Man" and old issues of "Pix", “Women's
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Weekly" and “Woman". I had seen all of them darling and it seems just waste of
money to send them. None of the boys get "Man" regularly so you could forward on
that one, if they keep me on their mailing list. Don't buy it though.
Pross got his sponge cake from Mother in the same bag. It hadn't been packed
properly and the moisture had ruined it. Mother said that she had forgotten to put
adhesive tape around the lid and she expected it would arrive this way. Bad luck – it
was a lovely cake. I'm still waiting for two or three parcels which are on the way.
Which leaves me with just enough room to take my bow for the night, sweetheart.
Hope you are well and the rest of the family too. Look after yourself, darling girl, and
remember I am always thinking of you. Ever your loving husband, George.
PS. Love and kisses from your boyfriend. To make a few more lines for you to read I
report a sore arm. Must have been bitten by an insect of some kind and it became
infected. The what-you-may--call-it (red line up the arm) has disappeared now and the
"wound" is almost healed. I'm sorry this happened because it breaks my record of
escaping every kind of ailment thus far. George.
***
11 November 1943. On ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number, censored by
Capt Clipsham.
My darling Marjorie, Haven't heard from you for four or five days so I'll have a job
to rake up enough words to fill up the space this time. First of all my arm is okay and
the rest of the body is fit. The mosquitoes seem to be letting up lately – probably due
to the better drainage and fierce onslaughts with the spray gun. However there are still
plenty of them around and it will be a long time before this place will be free of them.
The rest of the insects still hold sway
On Monday, I met a dozen or so Kukukukus with their bows and arrows. They
wouldn't trade their goods for anything but kitchen knives but of course that was
impossible and no business was done. I don't know if they have any ulterior motive in
wanting the knives but they seemed quite friendly, although a little sullen. Kukus
have their hair cut to a clump on the top – even the small boys – and some have
pigtails or something similar. They are pygmies really, and their average height is
under 5 feet I should say – sturdy in build and eyes like hawks. Magicians can't equal
them at making things disappear.
The "rainy" season is here with a vengeance. When the rain starts it just falls from the
sky like a river and continues like that for a couple of hours. Then it slackens off and
comes down steadily all night. The area is flooded temporarily but it soon soaks into
the ground then the sun breaks through usually about 8 AM to dry up ready for the
next downpour. The river jumped its banks at one point this week but a dropped back
to the low level in a day. Such is our climate and its effects.
I received a notification yesterday saying there was a hessian parcel addressed to me
awaiting collection. "If I only had wings" it wouldn't be so bad but I'm hanged if I
know how I'm going to cover hundreds of miles to get it. I wrote a note asking them
to arrange to have it forwarded on and will just have to wait and see. Tina said in one
251
of her letters that she had sent a parcel by boat because it was too heavy for the post
so this is probably it. Conclusion is – two parcels by post are better than one by boat.
Hope you're all well, darling, and not downhearted. I'll be with you in dreams and
thoughts all the time. All my love and kisses and hugs, As always, Me.
***
13 November 1943. On ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number, censored by
Capt Bill Richards.
My dearest Marjorie, The day is fine but hot and steamy after heavy rains – as usual.
I have just finished a breakfast of porridge, canned bacon and tomatoes and having a
few minutes to spare before starting work I am beginning another "hello" letter to
you, darling. The mail position is definately on the nose – nothing for us in nearly a
week. When it does arrive we’ll have to take a couple of hours off to read it – I hope.
Things are very much the same here – except that last night there was a slight earth
tremor. At the time an argument was in progress in our hut and as our floor boards are
loose I didn't notice it. The native "boys" working over in the mess out rushed out into
the open but nothing was disturbed. They told me "Plenty time he come". I haven't
seen "Guinea Gold" today but wouldn't be surprised to hear that there was a good
shake-up somewhere around these islands.
Yesterday Kurua took me into the jungle to get strips of thick vine for the ambulance
canopy. He doesn't bother about going around any obstacles – cuts his way straight
through with his machete. It got a bit too tough for me so I let him go on by himself. I
watched him cut the vine from a distance. The leaves were tangled in the branches of
a big tree and wouldn't come away so Kurua constructed a leg rope of vine and
shinned up another smaller tree and cut the required vine off half-way. No doubt
about this boy – he's the goods. Coming back trailing the vine we walked onto a
snake. Kurua grabbed a stick, let out a terrific flow of abuse and bashed the snake to
pulp. These natives have eyes and ears for every sound and movement in the jungle
although from appearances you’d think they were just rushing along blindly.
Marje, will you see if you can buy a about three yards of brightly coloured material
for a couple of cloths for the boys. Just cheap stuff and as vivid as possible – not more
than one shilling sixpence a yard. This may be impossible with rationing but you may
be able to fluke something when you are in town. Don't go to much bother though.
Perhaps you have an old frock you don't want that would be long enough for one
skirt. If you do find something you can wrap it around one of your parcels.
This is the end of my stationery, darling so goodbye for now. Love and kisses and
extra special pre-birthday hug. Ever your, Me.
***
14 November 1943. On ACF letterhead, quarto sized writing pad, in ink with
regimental number, censored by Capt Bill Richards.
Marjorie Darling, Only eight days to go to your birthday and I'd love you to receive
this letter on the day. But no matter whether it's on time or not you'll know I'm
252
thinking of you and hoping that you are having a good time. Many happy returns,
sweetheart and may all your dreams come true. Next year we may be together and
then we’ll have two celebrations on November 23 to make up for what we are missing
now.
Let's try to imagine what we would do if there weren't thousands of miles separating
us and it's November 23, 1943. Of course, the old clock would be ticking away
overhead and you would be first awake, as usual. Coming to, I am accusing you of
getting up in the middle of the night because you're such an early bird. You think I've
forgotten its your birthday and I know what you're thinking so I call you over and take
you in my arms and give you a luscious big kiss with all the trimmings etc.
But "time marches on" and we have a big day ahead of us and you are going to decide
the programme for the day. "How about a day on the water in our shorts, with a picnic
basket and a couple of bottles of the good old liquid refreshment" you say. And that
suits me right down to the ground. This time we make sure the mud hook is secure so
that I don't have to swim for it and ruin my watch. The weather is perfect and we are
having the time of our lives, glazing in the sun and taking on a nice coat of tan. But
we must get home before the strong nor'easter sets in. So up anchor and home to a
lovely warm shower to freshen up for the best show in town. Dinner at the Wentworth
at seven, after a few snifters in the lounge to whet the appetite. We just have time to
grab a taxi to the theatre on time. After the show – well you know what happens at the
end of a perfect day.
Your birthday is over sweetheart, how did you enjoy yourself?
Today, three of your letters turned up and brightened me up no end. It seems ages
since I heard from you. This time the enclosure was a pansie wasn't it – or am I still
way out in my flower recognition? You're a lucky girl to have neighbours who grow
such lovely roses and know how much you appreciate them – I can quite easily
imagine you admiring the big vase in front of the oval mirror – am I right?
There was no need for you to ask me about the radio, darling. Sell it by all means. I
think it's a great opportunity to get rid of something we were never satisfied with
really and the offer is very good indeed. And don't forget you are boss down there and
anything you do is O.K. with me.
In answer to your questions darling – I'm feeling "extra well", considering the circs.
At present I have a bad attack of "no leave" but apart from that the body is in firstclass order.
Christmas wont be like old times this year. Still we mustn't let the war spoil the spirit
and wherever we are we’ll make it a good one. We will be together in thoughts as
always. There is no chance of the army letting any more go on leave this year. The
latest report is that leave is to be granted within 18 months of tropical service,
whatever that means.
I've reached letter 78 (November 2) now – that's the one with the little side note
Nortoft" – I wish I could do something about that. It wont be so long before
yourdreams come true, darling.
253
The parcels haven’t arrived yet, although the postal corporal told me today that there
are more than 100 bags down the river awaiting transport and storage space – maybe
mine are there.
I read about the grass skirt with great interest. When I come home – it will be without,
you betcha. I'm dying to see the photographs – they should be worth seeing. And
about the others – tell the photographer you want to send them to me for Christmas
and it takes weeks for them to get here.
Your last letter is dated November 5 – that makes it nine days by airmail. I'm glad to
hear you are getting my mail more regularly and they cheer you up. They are usually
full of nothing but at least it's good for the old morale to have a little talkie-talkie with
your lover, isn't it?
I'm taking all the tablets about the place to get my share of vitimins, so you needn't
worry. Atabrin every night for malaria precautions in addition to keeping covered and
using mosquito lotion, -- it's become a habit.
I'd better not start another page sweetheart as it's 10 PM. So good night my little
princess in pink (pastel shades). Meet you in the same place – with all my love and
kisses as ever from your one and only, Me.
***
16 November 1943. On ACF quarto sized letterhead writing pad, in ink with
regimental number, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Dearest Marjorie, I am having my stand-down day today and have been waiting
for the ambulance to come back with the mail. Sure enough there were four letters
from you for me – the last one number 83 and dated November 11. From what I can
make out there has been some change made in the mail arrangements at HQ and most
of the delay is caused there. We may be able to get it speeded up again seeing that the
holding of mail is unnecessary.
Fancy you saying I must get sick of reading your letters because they don't contain
"front-page" news – you should see me getting around like a bear with a sore head
when they don't arrive. I always feel that my efforts of the sameness about them too
but I wouldn't miss out on my regular chat for worlds.
I know how lonely you must feel at times especially when you are so close to Norma
and Bruce, seeing them enjoy each other's company. That's why I write so often –
trying to fill up the gap.
The one snap of you in the grass skirt is quite good but it misses out somehow doesn't
it. Pity the others were "duds" – they might have been better. Anyway the leg show is
pretty good and I didn't mind it at all. You should have covered the "bra” top with
flowers and made a chain of daisies for a lei. When I come home I’ll have to dress
you up and get one of my famous angle shots to put in the album.
Every time you mention your work on the lawn it recalls old times when we used to
be on the job together and Mum coming out with a bottle of beer off the ice. Glad
you're keeping the old garden bright – it helps to cheer up the place doesn't it.
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The tone of Mitch's last letter I thought was considerably brighter and I gathered that
his return after the war would be only a temporary one, if he can land a good job in
England. Mitch has a bit of a grasshopper mind though – doesn't know what he wants
at the moment. Hate to admit it but the romance is doomed to failure, I'm afraid. They
are as opposite as the poles and the necessary link is missing. Pardon me if I'm wrong.
Mackie wouldn't be untrue but she's a bit too bright for Mitch. Nothing unkind, of
course (I can "hear" you "thinking" – that's what I said all the time). Still it would be
nice to have them around for tea one Sunday afternoon.
The only fish we’ve had to eat up here comes out of tins. Yet there are or were plenty
in the river. Perhaps we haven't found the right holes or they've all been blown out
with dynamite.
In my opinion Sydney girls (dames) would welcome a bunch of New "Guin" boys if
they had enough money. I wouldn't be surprised to hear them going for the "Dago"
prisoners whom Serviceman's newsletter says have arrived in In Sydney. When the
Aussies get back they’ll be looking around for a fresh crop of youngsters to marry or
will stay bachelors with privileges of a married man.
The movie unit mentioned in previous letters hasn't shown up yet worse luck. The
boys would really enjoy a good show after not having any entertainment for so long.
I'm glad you go regularly – it must help to break the monotony.
Evidently you didn't catch on about the bits and pieces, try again. Treleaven's
promised to inspect the carpets regularly and they should be all right but it would be a
good idea for a couple of you to go out and have a look see. If there are any moths
around why not have the carpets sent home. You could put the Persian under your
bedroom carpet and sprinkle some naphthalene over it occasionally yourself.
At last the old clothesline has come to the end of its tether, eh? Well seeing as it
started life as a bed and then became a sieve I think it deserves a mention in
dispatches. Bruce will fix up a new one for you, I'm sure. He'll probably work out the
strains and stresses first and make it a permanent job.
How is Betty Morey standing up under the strain of having her husband away? I think
you said he was still in NSW (didn't you?). So he probably gets home every three
months or so. The old Bet's not a bad sort even though she does do all the talking with
Dulce running a good second.
I didn't know about little Anne's birthday on November 13 or at least I had forgotten.
It doesn't seem like five years since that Sunday when Bill was pacing up and down
the side lane, doesn’t it?
I’ve struck a spot of trouble with my eyes – otherwise everything' is okay. Yesterday
three of us took my jeep up to the field workshop to have the framework welded. I
was holding the iron bars in position while welding was being done and of course it
was impossible not to glance at the electric arc occasionally. Coming back I didn't
notice any soreness in my eyes but as soon as I got into bed last night they started to
smart. I couldn't get to sleep with the excruciating pain so I got up at midnight and the
night orderly in the hospital put some drops in them. Even then I didn't get much
255
relief but after taking a few Aspros managed to get some sleep. This morning I was
almost blind so reported to Captain Clipsham. He prescribed castor oil drops and in an
hour or so my eyes were much better. Tonight the treatment was repeated and I expect
they'll be as good as ever in the morning. The other two are in the same boat but I got
the worse dose I think. Next time I'll borrow a mask when working near that electric
welding plant. Let that be a warning to you and don't look at the men working on the
tramlines. I used think it was a lot of "hooey" unless one was near enough to get
burned the damage can be done at a few yards distance it appears.
Tell Norma I had "The Hill" at one time. If you can't find it among my books, Mother
may have it at home.
Will close now darling and give the eyes a rest. All my love and extra special kisses
and hugs. As always, your own, George.
PS. Guinea Gold had a picture of Gary Cooper visiting NG. Sorry I'll miss him. I see
Melvyn Douglas is also coming up here to entertain the troops. G.
***
17 November 1943. On ACF quarto sized letterhead writing pad, in ink with
regimental number, censored by Capt Richards.
My Darling Marjorie, You're getting a skinny note this time sweetheart, for I can
write only with difficulty and I haven't much to say, anyway. My left eye is covered
with bandages and my right eye is a bit bloodshot. Capt Clipsham attended to me this
morning and found a piece of metal or something in my eye. There is nothing
seriously wrong with it and it should be okay in a couple of days. I could not wish for
better medical attention as I have told you often. You should see me – a beard of five
days growth and bandages around my head. Look as if I'd just come back from the
front line, with all the trimmings. Otherwise I'm feeling 100%, so don't worry.
Yesterday I received two parcels and two bundles of papers. The parcels were from
Mother – a birthday cake and a tin full of all sorts of good things. Mostly two of each
kind. Tell Mother the bottle of "hair oil" will be used very carefully and I’ll write her
in a day or so. By the way, both parcels were in excellent order but the mailbags had
not been standing in water as is usually the case. I hadn't seen some of the magazines
so I have plenty of reading matter at the moment. "Pix"'s double page spread on Joy
Nicholls "at home" is quite interesting – hooey in thick layers. She seems to well in
the news this month making the front covers of "Radio Pictorial" and "Music Maker".
Strangely enough, the two "Heralds" Mother used for packing contained pictures of
two friends of mine who were killed in action over Germany. John Martin was a
regular visitor to my office and a great pal of Bill Farnsworth's. He used go to
signalling classes with me in the old days of Naval Patrol.
How are you feeling these days my darling? Still battling along with the old chin up, I
hope. It's marvellous how time flies isn't it? That 24 days or more of heaven come
closer every day so get ready to enjoy yourself. It may not be long now. Give my love
to the family and tell them to save up the sugar coupons for me. Extra special love
and kisses and a big hug from, Yours forever, George.
***
256
20 November 1943. On ACF quarto sized letterhead writing pad, in ink with
regimental number, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, I haven't had any letters for a few days so I haven't anything to
bite on. However, I'll do my best to fill up with a little chatter.
Nothing exciting has happened since I last wrote. The weather is about the same –
raining evenings and hot during day. Last night there was a severe electric storm but
no damage as far as I know.
The CO is visiting us at present and having a good look around. He didn't like the
look of our beards and commented that shipwrecked sailors were receiving strong
competition in appearances. We haven't had a razor blade issue for months. Bill
Peters and "Tokko" will get a shock when they are greeted by the old-timers with long
beards, I bet.
Some of the men who were back at HQ have gone on leave – lucky guys will be home
for Christmas. Mab Nolan from the Transport is one of them.
Cec knows him very well so he'll probably call on him and you'll hear a bit of firsthand news. Not there that there is much to be added to what you already know. Don't
build up too much hope about us getting home soon as only a few are being released
each time and it takes a long time to get down, have a 24 day leave and return to the
unit. The army has a nasty habit of changing its mind too – as you know. Still there's
no harm in looking on the bright side.
Tina's parcel reached me yesterday, hand-delivered by one of our coves who was
injured when we were on the way up and sent back to HQ for treatment. I was a bit
dubious about that parcel ever reaching its destination.
Allan Willoughby, Pross and self had a little session on our own last night and my
cough is almost cured today. Mother's birthday cake was a beauty and enjoyed by all
the tent, over a dish of cocoa made with the Nestle's milk.
Under my bed at the moment is a regular canteen and I believe some more stuff is on
the way. My writing case is still floating around the Post Office somewhere, I suppose
but it shouldn't be long now.
I have bandages on my head still and have been ordered not to use my right eye any
more than absolutely necessary. That means your letter is going to be short. The left
eye is much improved and I hope to have it uncovered in a day or so. There is just a
possibility that we can get a photograph soon – will let you know about it later.
Goodbye now, sweetheart darling with all my love, kisses and cuddle-up. As always,
your own, Me.
***
257
22 November 1943. On ACF quarto sized letterhead writing pad, in ink with
regimental number, censored by Capt Richards.
Dearest Marjorie, I can hear a plane coming – maybe there'll be a stack of letters
today as the postman has passed us by for more than a week. Letters are about the
only things that keep us from going completely "troppo" and the army appears to do
it’s best to keep us waiting for them. How are you getting on down there? I suppose
the civilian Post Office treats you much better, hope so anyway, darling.
The old eye is still covered but I think it's just about right now. The pain has gone and
the vision is much improved. It will probably be a few days before the blur disappears
and lady, will I be pleased. Having only one eye to see with makes one irritable after a
while. Still I shouldn't complain – I had a very easy time, although I'd much rather
have something to keep me occupied.
Frank Kelly and Bill Peters called in to have a look around yesterday – Frank Starr
will be here any day now. They are not staying here long but it's good to see them
again. I believe Frank S. lost himself in the jungle for a few hours or he was left
behind at a native village somehow. He’ll have some wild tale to tell, I'll bet.
Pross is well and at present is having a rest day doing his washing. I've feeling fine
except for the bung eye. One of the "boys" is doing my washing for me. They were
very curious to know what was wrong with me and I got a round chorus of "Sorry
Tappeta" when I told them. Miki was very sympathetic when I ran my head against of
box nailed up on a tent pole. He bashed it down in quick time remarking" No good,
Tappeta, Sorree".
The day is hot and steamy as usual and that's about all I have to say at the moment
darling. So goodbye sweetheart I'll be with you in thoughts on your birthday
tomorrow. A big kiss extra special, love and everything you wish yourself.
Ever your loving husband, Me.
***
24 November 1943 On ACF quarto sized letterhead writing pad, in ink with
regimental number, censored by Capt JJ Cuff NX 111013.
My darling Marjorie, It's the day after your birthday, sweetheart and I'm wondering
what sort of time you had. I was with you in thoughts all day as always and
remembering the surprise roses and little table. I would have loved to have been able
to do something like that this year. Perhaps next year will be a happier one for you.
Did you have a party with a show afterwards? And how about the presents? Tell me
all about it when you write wont you?
I expect you have been doing a bit of a worry about my eye. No need to. It's
practically as good as new. Capt Clipsham said the bandages could be dispensed with
yesterday and, although the sight is a little weak, the vision is clear and almost back to
normal. The effects of the eye pills should wear off soon and everything will be
absolutely hunky-dory.
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Frank Starr was here this morning, very weary but glad to be around. He took a liking
to our "boys" straightaway and has decided to take them back to Australia with him as
drinking partners on wet Saturday afternoons. Wally Pyne is still full of beans and
asked how Dad was getting along with his complaint.
By the way I have a walking stick for Dad but haven't be able to pack it yet. I'll be
sending it with a few other things in a day or so. They will probably arrive sometime
after Christmas.
My beard is coming along fine-nearly half an inch long. So, if one day you see an old
gentleman with a flowing red beard walking in the gate it may be me. Pross is also
one of the great unshaven.
Now that I've said hello and nothing much else darling, I’ll have to bid you farewell
as that's about all I can think of.
I miss you more each day and longing to see you again. Our day will come so keep up
the old chin, sweetheart. All my love and kisses not forgetting the cuddle up. Ever
your own, Me.
***
26 November 1943. On ACF quarto sized letterhead writing pad, in ink with
regimental number, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, Here's your old pal and compere again with two letters
received on your birthday to answer – no. I think they came on November 24 and
today my birthday present arrived in good order and condition. The packing material
and paper were in ribbons but fortunately the mailbag was perfectly dry so no damage
was done. Thank you darling it's the most sensible present you could have sent me.
There's a place for everything including my pen which is always going astray. The
"posh" paper will be quite a change from the poor quality stuff we have to use
nowadays wont it. I'll finish this pad before starting on the new one and I'll have to
destroy the pile of old love letters to make room for the extra special ones.
My eye is practically back to normal now – the sight is a little weak but that is to be
expected. As soon as I can, I'll have my eyes tested in place glasses are needed – hope
they are not, though.
Last night we had a terrific rainstorm and our roof leaked like hell as usual. My bed
was like a big puddle for awhile. Frank and the boys are not keen on this place. They
hope this is their first and last visit. Of course we feel very hurt about that because
after all its our part of the country and we don’t like people running it down – oh no!
The gramophone spring is broken again so we couldn't put on a swing session for
entertainment. ACF may supply us with a new one eventually. It wouldn’t be
worthwhile your sending any new records as they probably would be broken in
transit. Dot L'amour singing "Starlight Serenade" and "Moonlight becomes You"
should be a good twin on the radio – have you heard her?
259
("Starry" has just come in full of cheek-- is purchasing lakatois at the moment".)
My promise about the last dance holds good from now on – I think we'll end up a
couple of old "stay-at-homes" though. The best times I can remember were those
"evenings" at home with refreshment straight out of the fridge. What say you?
I missed out in a photograph yesterday – was away on a job. However there's plenty
of time and maybe you'll get a look-see at my beard before it comes off. It's a little
beaut – like George King V.
Hope I didn't hurt your feelings in regard of the snaps you sent. Really what I meant
to convey was that they didn’t do you justice. I was mighty glad to get them anyway
even though you mightn't have thought so.
You should growl about the rain on your washing – tonight my lot is still the b– wet
after being out all be b– day in the b– sun.
Tell Mr Boon he did a great job on the line – couldn't have done much better myself.
Is he still air raid "wardening"?
I liked your description of "Arabian Nights" – you sounded like a cynical movie
critic.
Give Ciss my love when you see her and tell her Norma uses too much rouge and
polished nails are dreadful.
I had a letter from Dulce a few days ago-- she keeps me supplied with the news from
North Shore line. The things we talk about!
Pross says he finds it hard to believe there are any dames in Sydney who don’t go for
the Yanks – he's going to cultivate next year's crop when he gets back, he says.
Your side remarks noted with interest. The old light cord still lingers in my memory
and especially the Persian carpet in the lounge and the time you spilled the "sherry”. I
wouldn't mind a twist of that dial again – seems years since those times, as you say.
That's the end of my talking for tonight sweetheart. You've got a date with me in the
same old place so keep your evening gown in good order – I mean the pink one.
How's my tails, white tie and hankie? Love to all the family, extra bit for yourself.
Kisses and hugs, as always your, Me.
***
28 November 1943. In this letter three pages of the small ACF were used together
one page of the larger size ACF letterhead. In ink, with regimental number, censored
by Captain John Wright
My darling Marjorie, Got three letters and my birthday cake from you today. Thanks
sweetheart, will have a party next week and I'll tell you all about it. Maybe it's the
Christmas Cake – I haven't opened it yet. If it is I'll keep it for a while.
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In my last letter I told you how pleased I was with the writing case – will start on the
pad in it next time.
Before answering your letters which incidentally were numbered 89, 90, 91 – I'll give
you the local doings. I can't say my eye is perfectly right yet but it's improving day by
day. Yesterday I think the sun's glare didn't do it any good and it was very bloodshot
in the afternoon. However after a good night's rest, this morning it was much
improved but I wore dark glasses to relieve the strain and will continue to do so for a
few days. Frank is with us tonight and as usual is slinging off at my constant letter
writing – which doesn't perturb me in the least. He asks me to send his very kind
regards and hopes it won't be long before he can come to another party at Five Dock.
He often talks about the good time he had that night.
The rain has just started – a welcome relief after a hot, humid day. The engineers
"felled" a big tree across the hospital buildings yesterday and have been working like
blazes all day rebuilding. Will have to do some hard "yacker" to get the place looking
tidy again. So you can imagine how happy everyone is about it. That ends the local
news for the night. (The wogs are starting to annoy me so I'm afraid I'll cut this note
short, darling)
I got a great kick out of your letter in regard to our day out on November 23 –
especially the beginning of the day and the finishing touches. That's what I call a
perfect day. You'll have to arrange another time like that – it's your turn to do the
planning. The snaps were very good and the babe looks okay – one of the best of
Anne. Bet appears to be pleased with herself – not bad one of her. To add a discordant
note to the appreciation – tell Bet never to have her photograph taken whilst smoking
– it's simply not done. Probably cop a bit of abuse for that crack.
I'll have to call it off for tonight sweetheart, as the flying insects are taking possession
and the drips from the roof are beginning to make themselves felt. Tomorrow I'll be
on the job again so until then darling cheerio and sweet dreams. Take good care of
yourself and don't forget to put the quilt in the right folds before you hop into bed. All
my love and kisses,
As always, Your, Me.
***
29 November 1943. On good quality heavyweight unlined writing pad paper, in ink,
with regimental number, censored by Capt Richards.
Darling Marjorie, Last night I set out with every intention of writing a nice long letter
but everything was against me as I explained. Now I have received two more letters
from you (87 and No 1) so I'm going to knock over the whole lot in one go. 87 must
have been careering around the island according to the postmarks – you must have
missed 86 and 88 in your numbering or else they are still on the way. The dates seem
to point to a mistake. However we shall see in due course.
There was a strong nor'easter blowing in your November 17 letter – I can picture the
rush to batten down the hatches and it reminds me of the time that you nearly broke
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your leg. Also you’d had your photograph taken at Freemans – I'll be waiting
anxiously for that to come along. Hope they make a better job of that than the other
crowd. I still think you should have gone to Noel Rubie’s for the best results. Noel
knows just how that little extra something that others miss, makes all the difference.
Don't let them shove anything on to you – it's your money they are getting. Anyway
perhaps you're taking too much notice of bad proofs.
The garden is beginning to show results from your labour – you'll be pleased to be
able to dig up a basket of veggies when they are scarce or can't be bought at any price.
Most of the stuff is being canned for the Army I believe – and being wasted. I can't
tackle it myself. The parcels are coming through now and the one sent by boat was
brought to me by one of the lads from HQ so everything is hunky-dory.
We always did do pretty well with the usherettes didn't we? I didn't tell you how they
used squeeze my hand when giving me back the ticket butts – of course it may have
been only my imagination.
How is Gwen E. these times? Does the sedan still stand out in front. My! My! The
bottles of sherry sure did the trick for us – wouldn't knock one back tonight, darling. I
wonder if Gwen will see that we don't go short when I'm on leave
There is no worry in this part of the globe as to whether it will rain at Christmas we
know it will. You should have a fine one after all the rain in Sydney
I often think about the old folks too dear– they deserve much better. Maybe there'll be
a change for the better, soon. Old skinny Scotter will probably end up like Scrooge.
It's none of my business but the boys should be doing well enough to help at home.
Don't forget to let me have the blueprints for the best possible time you could have in
that 24 days we’ve heard so much about. See if you can improve on November 23 and
I'll let you have my views on the matter.
Have you got rid of the radio set yet? Grab that opportunity old gal, you'll never get
another one like it
I've managed to beat the "no-leave blues" by thinking of the times in store for us –
and your letters give me inspiration. Christmas won't be like the good old days this
year because of ration books and missing faces but I'll join you in thoughts of little
old "two years ago" and hopes for 1944.
Our luck is out with the lottery isn't it? I suppose poor all Dad has a crack now and
again – have to laugh when I think of him going "crook" when he doesn't bring home
the bacon.
Happy to hear you had a good time on your birthday and not an altogether "austerity"
one. You said "Dulcie gave me a pair of" and I turned the page over quickly to find it
was only "slippers". You made my temperature rise for a moment.
I'm mighty proud of my little wife and her blood donations. There are not too many
women who do it so willingly and so often. How are you feeling sweetheart? Look
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after yourself and don't go over doing it, will you? Let me know if you don't feel well
– I'd rather you didn't hold anything from me. Give my love to your folks. Best of
everything to you Princess with love and kisses from your one and only, – Me.
***
December 1943.
Bulldog: Christmas, snakes and jungle juice.
1 December 1943. On good quality heavyweight unlined writing pad paper, in ink,
with regimental number, rank and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
Dearest Marjorie, Midday mess is over and I have a few minutes to spare so this is
where your letter begins. There's no mail today and I'm scratching my head trying to
find something to say as usual.
Yesterday I posted a parcel containing two "lakatois" to you dear. They aren't very
good ones but the youngsters should like them for novelties. Give one to young
Bruce, if he wants it and the other to Mother for Joe. The stick for Dad is still in
process of manufacture and I'm afraid he'll miss out for Christmas. However I'll get it
away as soon as possible. Good shopping baskets are hard to find so I'm hanging off
for awhile until the demand drops off – there is plenty of time to make the selection
before I come home. How much do the stores in Sydney charge for those small
coloured baskets like the one they have at home? Let me know, darling and then I'll
have some idea of the value of the stuff the natives make. They are getting pretty
shrewd in their business transactions and they always shove on the heaviest load the
old camel will carry – unless they know you well.
I have been trying to make a fitting for the earrings you've heard so much about and
had no success up to now. I'll try another idea next rest day.
The weather is still hot and muggy and the "wogs" are as bad as ever. I suppose I'll
shiver to death when I get in a cool climate – a risk I'm willing to take anytime.
How do you feel after this last blood transfusion, darling? If you don't feel too well,
go in and tell the doctor. He'll put you onto something to build you up.
Love to all the folks and extra special kind for you. Kisses and hugs from,
Your loving husband, Me.
***
3 December 1943. On good quality heavyweight unlined writing pad paper, in ink,
with regimental number, rank and unit, censored by Capt GH Cosins.
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My Darling Marjorie,
After I had written a letter on Wednesday, the mail came in and brought yours of
November 25 (No.2). I was a bit anxious to know how you were now after your last
blood donation but now you tell me that you have been to your Health and Beauty
class I presume everything is hokey. Take things easy for a while darling and give
your system a chance to build up again.
Tell Norm she can leave the door open always – I don't mind a bit. It will save me the
trouble of peeping through the keyhole or shutters.
Sorry to hear the photograph won't be ready for Christmas – never mind, it will be
lovely when I do get it. The best way to send it is by registered air-mail or at least by
registered mail. If you pack it with a thin piece of cardboard each side it should carry
well and letter-mail doesn't get wet.
Outside our hut tonight there is a wood chopping contest. The boys have been cutting
down the dangerous trees and now the champ is doing the splitting. It's pretty tough as
the logs are very thick and they don't split easily.
Pross has just returned from a job – broken arm and other injuries. Pretty rough trip
with a fracture.
The old gramophone is fixed again and Bing is crooning my ear "You lucky people".
There are about half a dozen Crosbys in the repertoire – not bad, eh? The YMCA
bloke called the other day and promised a new spring and if possible some more
records. Unfortunately he got an attack of malaria the same day and is now in the
hospital. He will know how much a radio would be appreciated by the time he’s
through and we may get somewhere.
That's about all for now darling. The writing case is going fine – this "tonie" paper is
sure getting a bashing. I'll be looking for a refill. Give the old folks a "hi ya" for me,
also my bathroom thrush. All my love and kisses to you sweetheart wife, from your,
Me.
PS Thanks for the place of salvia – I'm right this time, aren’t I?
***
5 December 1943. On good quality heavyweight unlined writing pad paper, in ink,
with regimental number, rank and unit, censored by Capt Richards.
My Darling Marjorie, I'm trying to picture what you are doing this Sunday morning –
I bet you're hurrying through the housework so you'll have time to sweep up the
leaves in the side lane and dig out a few weeds in the garden. Or is it still raining. For
a wonder the weather here has been quite fine and yesterday we were able to clean up
the place a bit.
I have received your letter written on November 29 (No. 5) but 3 and 4 haven't turned
up yet. Looks like they've gone for a trip. My letters appear to be bunching up at your
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end too. Don't blame me darling, I write very regularly and they are posted the day
after they are written.
You can cease feeling for my "wounds" sweetheart – I'm mended now. The eye is
okay. The infected arm is better than ever and the ring-worms – (or what have you) on
my wrist are well under control. In fact you can enter me in the next race and I'll have
a good chance. The waistline is a little thinner and I suppose you would notice the
same with the hairline. Otherwise is not much change in my outward appearance. "No
leave" is my worst ailment.
Pross has just brought in the mail and with that your letter No. 6 (November 30). Also
one from "Ding Dong" who asks me to convey "my sincerest regards to your
admirable wife and I hope she enjoys the excellence of health" (me too, darling) and
also "best regards to "’Heigho Jack Davey’".
Col is in hospital with a torn upper medial ligament attachment left leg. He says the
right one now has company for its frequent misery and he feels it is time he received
"new kingpins and brushes". I always get a laugh out of his letters with their streams
of rhetoric and frank outbursts.
I can hardly wait to do that job of dressing you up with daisy chains and grass skirt –
you'd better start to take on a good coat of tan to look like the hula girl in the picture.
You'll feel much better after a bit of sunbaking too.
Don't pay much attention to my remarks about "Mackie" – I may be on the wrong
tack. Mitch may have different ideas. Did I tell you I'd heard from Su Callan? She is
in hospital with a broken arm – and is receiving plenty of attention from the male
patients from all accounts, which is not surprising in that part of the world.
When I wrote to Dulce I told her to tell Betty Morey it's about time she started to do
something about a nursery. I'd didn't know Jim was in Queensland and of course she'd
need help from him. Sorry to hear she's got that "nervy" rash.
Next time you're writing to Bill tell him I said to try to imagine he’s having dinner at
the “Carlton" when he sits down to a big plateful of MXV – that might help. How's
the supply of beer up there? He could whet his appetite with a noggin or two.
This paper is rather heavy darling so I’ll close now. I read your letter but I'll have to
answer it later.
"It's funny every time I fall in love, it's always you" that's the theme song for the day.
Be seein’ ya next year sweetheart. With all my love and kisses.
As always, Your, Me.
***
265
6 December 1943. On good quality heavyweight unlined writing pad paper, in ink,
with regimental number, rank and unit, censored by Capt Richards..
Dearest Sweetheart, I'm in luck today for three of your letters came with the mail -Nos. 3, 4, and 7. The last was written on December 1 so that's good going. No. 6 also
has to be answered and they are all in front of me ready for the job.
First of all you seem a little anxious about my ailments – well you can set your mind
at rest because, as I said yesterday, everything is O.K.. I'm always wondering about
you too, especially after your visits to the hospital. You must be careful darling and
don't try to do too much or you’ll be getting run-down. I know what a tiger for work
you are.
It's hard to form an opinion on how the war is going over the other side as the news is
so meagre and so much alike every day. I read "Time" with its optimistic outlook and
the war is over, bar the shouting. Then I see a map of the doings and it seems as if
we've only just started. Of course the airforce is hitting hard everywhere and that must
go a long way to hasten the end, but the infantrymen are the ones who have to do the
final job. The allies slow advance in Italy is coming in for some sharp criticism from
the usual armchair generals. The old footsloggers are expected to do miracles.
However it looks as if there's going to be an all-in effort very shortly and then the
position will be much clearer.
But let us talk about something we can eat. Your cake for instance. Last night I
opened the tin and discovered the holly leaves. The temptation was too great so we
had a pre-Christmas party and now there’s only half left. It's a lovely cake darling and
fresh as if it had just been taken out of the oven. By the way Pross and I still have the
wherewithal to make a real festive whacko.
I remember very well the midnight supper of thick fresh bread and butter – next time
we’ll add a little champagne. How's the ‘frig functioning these days?
You were thinking how lovely it would be to take a stroll in the moonlight as we did
long long ago. I think I could stand it – we're not doing much marching now and
anyway, walking with my favourite blonde would be "namour headia, namour headia"
(very good, very good).
I’ve just come to a paragraph in your which makes me blush in modesty – pardon me
while I adjust my halo.
"Seven Sweethearts" was a three star show wasn't it – don't you forget to see "The
Major and the Minor" too. You'll enjoy it better than anything you seen for a long
time, I'm sure. It's worth three stars plus in my opinion. Ginger Rogers is at her top,
spicy and not too sophisticated.
Our roof is much improved and our quarters are really good now. If my hand seems
plenty shaky – blame Allan. His winding the gramophone and putting Vera Lynn,
Bing and others through the groove.
266
There was a mild scurry in the medical ward yesterday – a big snake had come in out
of the rain but it didn't get far.
December 7. Don't bother about sending any more of the weekly magazines darling–
it's not worthwhile sending them airmail and I have a number of "Digests" to keep me
going for a long time. The newsletter is a good idea so shoot them in your letters as
you have been doing. I suppose my friends at "Man" are now in the Services and the
office has cut me off the free list. Between you and me I've never bought one and I
wouldn't ever pay two bob for it.
It would be quite safe to pack tins of stuff in a cardboard box but loose things like
sultanas, sweets choc’s or such wrapped in paper sometimes get saturated and are
affected by the heat. I didn't mean that a large tin to hold everything was necessary.
Thanks for getting me the razorblades, darling I wish you hadn't though – the army
should supply them and there shouldn't be any shortage. Dad could have done with
them, I bet.
Unfortunately I missed out on the official photograph and my beard has gone. The
only thing left is a misplaced eyebrow which will probably go before long. Marge,
dear will you try to buy a film for me – same size as the one for the little box camera
(127, I think)
I heard the news about George Blackshaw committing suicide – he was always a
"nervy" sort of person but I can't understand him having any worries about money. He
was doing very well from all reports.
The "boys" will be tickled pink with the cloths – I'm enclosing my coupons to replace
the ones you had to use as they’re no good to me.
I'll take you up on your promise to read my favourite O Henry's some day – another
entry in my notebook
There is a walking stick coming for Don Campbell – with Dad's. Don been a good
friend of the family for years and he always does things in a quiet, sincere way.
You may have to report to the Manpower Department in the New Year but you should
be exempt from any call-up. Explain that you can’t be dispensed with at home and
that your Auntie Ethel is also a semi-invalid who must be helped and mention your
Red Cross work too.
That brings me to the end sweetheart darling,. Keep smiling and hope there'll be no
more December 7, 1942 partings. Love and kisses, Me.
***
9 December 1943. On good quality heavyweight unlined writing pad paper, in ink,
with regimental number, rank and unit, censored by Capt Richards.
Marjorie Darling, Like the wandering boy your No. 86 letter (written November 16)
arrived today with your latest (December 2).
267
In 86 you had recorded the demise of your little Micky – I didn't know him but I'm
sorry to hear the news. The old fellow with the limp seems as if he's got nine lives and
will last for long while – "Churchill", I mean.
My birthday present is proving a great asset and I can be sure now that no letters are
left unanswered as I always know where to look for my pen. I didn't mention before
that the greetings card was a little "pippin". And the message tells me all I want to
know – you’re a darling!
Cecil wrote to Pross and told him that Matt Nolan had been to see you and the family.
He would be able to give you the doings for the first nine months of this long year but
it's quite a long time since I have spoken to him. He's not a bad sort of bloke in a
breezy Irish sort of way but – I can't throw pianos very far. It was good of him to go
out to Drummoyne anyway. I bet Cec had him "primed" up.
Today, another batch got underway I believe – which means our time is that much
closer. Don't bank on it too much though or you may be disappointed.
Your physical culture class should be good for you as long as you don't overdo it,
sweetheart. Norma needs it and she ought work much harder at it than you..
Frankie isn’t with us any more and I haven't heard from him since he left in spite of
the fact that he said he'd keep us well informed. However I understand he’s well-off
in comparison to us. Gardens supply him fresh vegetables daily and fruit is not so
scarce. We are managing on bully three times a day. Bob Sidoti [Pte B Sidoti
N213477]32, has built a big baking oven so in a short while we'll be having bread
instead of biscuits.
Last night we finished the cake and had a good supper with coffee piping hot. I've still
got a supply of spreads awaiting the bread and toast.
Dad’s stick, and Don's too, will come along one of these days. I had two ready to send
but there were a few big cuts on them so I got rid of them – at a profit. Boevari has
promised to make me two more – on his next "walkabout" day and he makes a good
job of them.
It's raining today after a spell of dry weather – and the roof is a big success.
The coat of tan Matt spoke about has disappeared since we wear top to tail raiments.
The sun can't get through. However the Queensland sun may put it on again when we
are on the way home
And that just about runs me out of words sweetheart so, until next time, Goodbye with
All My Love And Kisses. As Always Your, Me.
***
268
11 December 1943. On good quality heavyweight unlined writing pad paper, in ink,
with regimental number, rank and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, Everything is quiet and still except for the raindrops falling
from the trees and the heavy breathing of the sleeping warriors. It's early morning and
I've just slipped out of bed to scribble these few lines in peace. Perhaps I'll have a
letter from you today and that will help me on my next effort but at present there
doesn't seem much to say.
Yesterday I went for a short trip along the road and came across one little Kukukuku
with a bow twice as high as himself. I tried to do a trade with him but nothing doing.
"Knife" was all he wanted – probably for someone's throat. His tummy 14was the size
of a jam melon – swollen spleen I suppose – and he had those big frog eyes and a tuft
of hair on the top. Kukus are N.G. natives and they don't savvy Papuan boys’ talk and
their English is negligible. In fact the only sound I heard them utter is "Knife".
Talking to them is like talking to a brick wall – it just doesn't register. Even our boys
can't make them understand very well.
An engineer told me that he'd been doing a spine-bash and his mate had come in and
asked him who the visitor was. He said he hopped up and discovered the Kuku bloke
sitting under his bed as motionless as bronze. Needless to mention he got the POQ
extra quick.
Looks like another dull day with rain hanging around. I hope it keeps fine enough for
me to paint the ambulance – a job I've been trying to get done for weeks but for
various reasons haven't been able to. Also my washing is dripping on the line and
unless the sun breaks through I'm going to be in a bit of a fix tonight. Still I couldn't
care less.
Now sweetheart I’ll have to be bid fair-thee-well until next time. With a big kiss and
all my love from Your, Me
***
12 December 1943. On good quality heavyweight unlined writing pad paper, in ink,
with regimental number, rank and unit, censored by Capt Richards.
My Darling Marjorie, The spots on this paper are from fly-spray – I copped the lot
minute ago. It should drown the mozzies if it doesn't kill them the other way.
I've just read in Guinea Gold that troops in the N.T. are to get leave at the rate of 500
a week – that should build up Bet's morale. Bill has a good chance of beating me
home it seems. I hope he’s lucky enough to be in the early batches.
Tonight is about the hottest we’ve had and there is a big moon over the hills. This is
news because usually at this time it's raining like the dickens and the moon seldom
shows through the heavy clouds. One thing about the rain that is good is the cool
night it brings which means a restful sleep under the net. However there's plenty of
time for the heat to bring up a nice juicy thunderstorm.
269
Before I go any further, darling – I forgot to tell you I had sent a pound (through
paybook) for Christmas and you should have it by now. You can go into town and
buy yourself a little sports model or something with it but don't get too rash. I didn't
send you anymore darling as I'm saving up for the big day when I can buy a few
presents myself and give you a good holiday. And you know you can have all you
want from the bank.
Well dear, I received two letters from you today and I'm happy to know you’ve had a
good week in regard to letters from me. I'm afraid they’re aren't very interesting but
they do the job of saying “ Hello, how’s my darling getting along”, don’t they?
Pross had a couple of parcels from home and Huntleys Point yesterday with the usual
stock of good things for both of us. Your parcel seem to be settling down to an easy 5
or 6 weeks in transit so we should be able to put on a real seasonal party around the
25th.
The bundles of magazines turned up yesterday too I was able to decipher too tiny
words on the cover of the "Digest" – ask Norma or Betty do they know anything
about it. Tell them to write big next time and tell me how it's going. I'll be seeing
Norma when I get home and perhaps Betty too.
I've told you in previous letters that my eye and arm are okay and there's been no
recurrence. My eyesight is as good as ever – you are an optimist to think a bung eye
would get me home.
The enlargement from the snap was very good – a professional retoucher could have
done something with that. Although it's a bit fuzzy and your upper lip isn't distinct
and your eyelashes are missing, your happy smile is there showing the upward turn in
the corners of the mouth.
Monday, December 13. The old saying "a calm before the storm" was well
demonstrated last night. A boong came in with a snake-bite and I had to go out into
the beautiful moonlit fairyland to get his brother. The sky was clear except for a few
streaky clouds and driving along the movement of air was just sufficient to make
things pleasant. About an hour later in bed I heard the leaves begin to rustle and a dull
hum in the distance, gradually increasing in volume. Soon the wind was blowing
pretty hard and the roar coming closer. Big branches were falling and we could hear
the heavy thuds of timber crashing down by the river. All the members of No.1 hut
rushed out to the road – in pyjamas, shirts and no shirts or nothing – to keep their eyes
on the swaying giants. But the rain came and stilled the wind so our hut still stands. I
managed to get back to bed before the deluge started but Pross and the others left their
run too late and were soaked. I hate to think what would happen if a good size "willywilly" ever swept through the jungle. Fortunately very strong winds aren’t prevalent.
Outstanding feature of my dreams last night was our big Palm Tree sticking up above
everything else – I got a view of it from all angles. I don't think he'll fall – Palm Trees
seldom do.
I’ll let you know when the parcel containing the material comes – Pross wants you to
tell Mother and Tina that the hair oil was as good as gold. It's unprocurable here.
270
You seem to be pleased with the progress of the work on your new frock, it must be a
“honey”. Hope I'll be the first to help you show it off – but don't wait for me, darling.
We’ll give "her" a good airing when the time comes.
I'd like to see a picture of Norm's bathing suits on the job, tell her – she must have
writer's cramp as I haven't heard from her in a long time . You should have gone for a
dip with them, too.
Glad to hear you enjoyed "Mr Pim passes By" – I saw Dion Whosis play the role way
back. Not a bad show at all.
I'm told that Irving Berlin's "This is the Army" is a top-notch. Quite a lot of the lads
saw it before coming up here. Our movie unit is still on the way, in the usual army
style, so I'm behind on my movies. It looks as if we might have a radio from the Red
Cross though and that will keep us in touch with things. Gene Tunney, Gary Cooper,
Una Merkel, Gladys Moncrieff and other celebrities are on the island but it's unlikely
that we'll see them.
Must leave you here sweetheart. Love to the family. Extra special bit for you, with
kisses and hugs. As always. Me.
***
14 December 1943. On lined, lower quality writing pad paper, in ink with regimental
number, rank and unit and date apparently torn off, censored by Capt Clipsham.
Marjorie Darling, You're too good to me and I'll be spoilt – I’ve received three letters
in the last two days, written December 7, 8 and 9. It takes me all my time to scratch
out a few lines every second day. Receiving letters up here is like a tonic and
everyone holds up the war until they are read.
The general opinion on "Star Spangled Rhythm" is that it is a top show and I believe
Bob Hope turns in his usual first-class performance – Bing and Dot aren’t hard to
take at any time, are they? I'm sorry I missed it but you can tell me about it in bed
sometime, as in the past.
Norm's letter came this morning, too and she said that she’d taken the day off to
recover from her ailment. I often wonder what you girls talk about when you get on
your own like that. It's dollars to doughnuts Norm has a good old spine bash before
getting out on the lawn
Darling, when you see Helen convey to her my deepest sympathy in her great loss. I
felt that I knew both of them very well as they had been mentioned so much in letters
from you and Norm. There isn't much anyone can do for poor Helen to alleviate the
pain of her sorrowing – only time can do that. I trust that she will be comforted in the
thought that she was allowed to know Ted, loved him and was loved in return. In spite
of the tragedy I'm sure she wouldn't have had it otherwise.
You asked what a lakatoi is, evidently they haven't reached you yet. Actually they are
a replica of the medium of transport the Papuan natives use on the rivers and waters.
271
The trunks of two large hardwood trees are hollowed out, shaped with pointed ends
and lashed together with poles. Planks then placed on the poles to make the decking.
Where possible a sail is used for power but in fast moving streams the natives make
use of the flow of water. Upstream, of course, they have work mighty hard with the
pole to push these cumbersome lakatois along. Get the idea? Or don't you care?
Mary, your garden sure is showing plenty of returns – hope the ‘taters don't turn out
like one lot I remember.
Why are you so sure that Gwen will come to my rescue – with three beautiful blondes
to look after my needs I don't think I'll have time to call on "the girl-friend".
I'm relieved to know you have the cash on hand for the radio. The amount has been
written off and I think it's an opportune time for you to go look-see what the best
dressed girl will wear early 1944 and plonk down a deposit. What's the good of
putting her in the old oak chest and then having to draw her out again. ‘44 is going to
be a big year for you and you'll need the glad-glads to get around.
About Treleaven's – you'll have to decide what should be done with the carpets, dear.
I suppose they are being well cared for but if you could use them at home and it
would set your mind at ease, have sent out by all means. You're the boss and it's up to
you.
My, my, how I'd like to be walking towards the kitchen after you and Norma had been
to your P T class – Norm doesn't know what she’s letting herself in for, does she?
For a marvel it hasn't rained in the last 24 hours. A record I think. The mozzies appear
to be thriving tonight and are costing the army of a lot of money for spray and lotion –
the vicious little blighters.
I'm looking forward to Sydney's cool weather especially now that I know that you're
going to make sure I don't shiver. Thank the family for saving the sugar for me – I'll
probably be able to cut down to a couple of spoonsful per cup of tea instead of four as
previously.
Dad's got to look after himself and get big and strong like me – he can't let his old
mate down like that, tell him. Hope your Mother is feeling well and still grumbles
about the pots and pans and dishes she has to wash up. Give them all my love and
impress on Norma that we have first preference on the couch. Nothing further heard
about leave but it should come in the next six months at the present rate and provided
things go along steadily.
Good night now, sweetheart wife, I'm longing for that arm and arm stroll you
mentioned. That'll be the day. With all my love and kisses and a "you know what kind
of" a squeeze. As ever, George
PS. At the moment Richard Crooks is singing "You are my heart's delight" – that's
what I say. G.
***
272
17 December 1943 On lined, lower quality writing pad paper, in ink with regimental
number, rank and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
Marjorie Darling, Seven days since you wrote the letter (14) I received from you
today – and it's just seven days to Christmas. I can't believe it. I hope this reaches you
before the postman gets on the plonk so that at least, you can imagine me wishing you
a Merrie Christmas. Better keep off the champagne dear – you know all about that
"morning-after" feeling. Remember the party out at Mons Street? Dulce, Doug you
and I came home together in the small hours of the morning. I couldn't decide whether
you were crying or laughing and Dulce had at terrific glow too. I think we vowed
"never no more" the next morning didn't we? Still it's a poor heart that never rejoices,
isn't it?
Then there was the time when you took me down to Barrells to meet the tribe. I had
been sampling Dad's demijohn in the pantry and was feeling extra well. Most of the
evening I spent down by the baths with my head between my knees. Since then I have
learned a lot – chiefly that the grain doesn't mix with the grape. Everything will be
very different this time but I think we'll have something better than bully and biscuits
– those parcels may make the grade and if not we’ll have a delayed Christmas party.
Pross and I have stocked up on tinned fruit and chocolate from the canteen and there
may be some more stuff coming in, they tell us. The ACF should come to light with
something if they don't forget we’re here.
The spray-king has just been around and the wogs and the mosquitos are turning up
their toes all over the table – I always have to suspend operations until the show is
over but it's better than being mozzie bait.
I expect to hear the story of Matt's visit in your next letter and perhaps I'll see him
when he gets back. Those last few days of leave must seem like minutes to anyone
who has been away from home for so long – I get some consolation in the thought
that my 24 days are still intact but it must be a lot of fun using them up.
I'll say it's better to see a picture with your best girl sitting alongside, especially if
she's the type who enjoys a good show. Also it nicer when you can go home to a nice
supper and get a snifter out of the ‘frig before going to bed, remember?
You weren’t the only one who was worried when you had that bad tooth out – it was a
nasty piece of work, wasn't it?
Sydney's weather must be as unseasonable as ours. However our two days drought
has broken. Light rain is falling and I'm wishing that it would pour to cool us off. In
fact, I'm used to the heavy rain now and, with the dry hut, it is very welcome after the
day is over.
The war news today is heartening and it looks as if there's something doing. The Nips
are going to get an awful kick in the panzers before very long, it seems.
273
And so, under my net, to bed. Keep the old fires burning darling and it won't before
your toes are warm. With my fondest love and kisses and extra special hugs. From
Your own, Me.
***
19 December 1943. On good quality lined writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank and unit, censored by Lt A.D.(Doug). Dunlop NX 111014.
My Darling Sweetheart, It's Sunday morning and I've just finished my weekly chores
as usual on my rest day. Washing doesn't worry me much these days – I simply shove
everything in a kerosene tin with a lump of soap. No toil only boil.
The "dry" weather continues and the mozzies are worse than ever at night. Otherwise
things are about the same.
Last night I went out in the jeep with a couple of the lads to pick up some Red Cross
comforts. It was quite cool driving along and we knocked out of bit of fun chasing the
rats with stones – going troppo. On the way back we caught a glimpse of a huge snake
on the roadside. It must have been 4 inches thick – probably a Python – but he was
too quick for us and got away. How would you like to walk down a road paved with
snakes? There must be hundreds of them in the scrub and they seem to like to come
out on the open road particularly after dark. That's why there are so many cases of
snake-bite among the natives – they're always wandering up and down visiting each
other's camps. I wouldn't be too keen on getting around without my gaiters even if it
were allowed.
The mail ‘plane didn't come in yesterday so we should be right for a few letters today
– Pross has gone down near the post office now to see what's doing. He's looking
pretty fit, as is the cove who parts the hair on my dandruff-knob every morning.
Which reminds me I need a haircut – barbers are pretty scarce and a couple of the
boys have taken it on. They make a fairly good job of trimming but in any case, we
are not glamour boys up here.
I didn't mention before about the Engee squirrels. They are pretty little animals with
long bushy tails and not very shy. The other night one crawled across the beams of the
hut while we were all sitting talking. He wasn't very concerned, had a look around
and then off again. Unfortunately these squirrels are suspected of carrying the dreaded
scrub typhus so we can't make pets of them. Although, I've seen pictures of them in
Australian papers, crawling all over their captors.
Pross is back and there’s no mail for the day unless a plane turns up unexpectedly.
By the time you receive this you will be well in the throes of the Christmas spirit. As
a matter of fact it will couple of mornings after and New Years Eve will be the next
item on the programme. What are the plans for this year? Is the old Liz throwing a
party for old lang syne? Hope you have a good time darling, – I'll be thinking of you.
Now it's almost time for lunch so I'll take my bow. Keep the chin up, sweetheart, and
I'll be seeing you before long – I hope. Not much chance for a few months though I'm
afraid. Still it gets closer, every day.
274
Goodbye, dearest girl in the world – meet you in the same old place tonight. With all
my love and kisses and an extra special big hug for the New Year. Ever your loving
husband, George.
PS I love you more than ever. Me.
***
21 December 1943. On good quality lined writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank and unit, censored by Lt A.D.(Doug). Dunlop NX 111014.
My Darling Marjorie, I got your December 13 letter today and that means number 14
is still on the way. We've been mail starved for a few days and everybody gets cranky
when things are like that. They think the Yanks are in – the poor dears.
I'm happy to know you are in the pink – I'm longing to see you in pink by the way –
and not suffering any after effects from your trip to the hospital. "Ding Dong" will get
your message when I write to him again.
It's strange that you wished for a swap in our climates – looks like your wish came
true. The heat is terrific tonight and the drought is making everything very dusty and
uncomfortable. Perhaps it will rain later but it doesn't feel much like it at present.
Dear, about the tins of Horlicks Malted Milk – don't send any more as there is plenty
of it here. The Red Cross people send cases of it to the hospital and the patients can't
use all of it. Tell Mother too, will you? Also, sweetheart, I have plenty of sox – the
army supplies them – so save your coupons. Hope you don't mind me telling you that
it's better than letting you waste your money, isn't it.
Jim Morey will be chucking his hat in the area if the move comes off – Betty will be
able to make a job of it, then won’t she? There isn't any mention of Matt's visit in
your letter but I suppose that’s because you covered it in your last, (no. 15).
Cec’s heart sure got a hard kick in the pants by the sound of things. Next week, he'll
be having the same trouble with another dame no doubt. He vowed it was the real
thing though.
Now for a little chatter from my end. Miss Porte wrote and told me Mr Patterson had
asked her to send me a fiver for Christmas and that she’d posted it to you. You know
you could have a really good time if you were to let your head go– why don't you? I'm
wondering whether the bonus will be cut this time. Never satisfied, am I?
Mitch's airgraph letter also came today and he sends his love to you and asks to be
remembered to Norma and Bruce. When I’ve answered it I’ll forward it on to you for
perusal. He’s doing a bit of instructing these days.
On Sunday at last I met some more of the Kukukuku tribe and this time was able to
do a spot of business. For a box of matches and three razorblades I got a good bow
and six arrows of all types. These are too big for the post so I'll have to bring them
275
home with me whenever that will be. They are not toys and they are too dangerous for
kids to play with but they'll do for mementos or junk. The earrings and other things
still waiting to be finished – I must try to finish them before the end of the year. The
weather doesn't encourage much work – that's the excuse for the delay.
Pross is out in front with his bow and is skiting about his good shooting. I'll have to
go and have a crack at it. So until next time sweetheart wife I'll say by ‘bye-‘bye.
With all my love and kisses, Ever your own, Me.
***
23 December 1943. On good quality lined writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank and unit, censored by Lt A.D.(Doug). Dunlop NX 111014.
My Darling Marjorie, No.15 turned up O.K. and with that No. 17 and 18. Nice going
sweetheart – that's one a day you have written. It's almost like our little nightly chat,
isn't it. I remember that last night in Sydney very well and the trip to Manly, too.
We'll do that again sometime.
Matt must be well on the way back by now – as far as I know he won't be coming
here but I might see him before that long-looked-for leave arrives. Thinking over the
second parting dear is not so good but it's going to be an awful lot of fun using up
those 24 days, isn't it?
Your "spuds" sound all right and I could do with a big feed of them for a change. The
dehydrated potato chips we get aren’t bad when they are well cooked but they’re
usually sloppy mash the way the cook does them. And you know I was never keen on
even creamed potatoes was I?
I would have got off my bike if you had sent those magazines by airmail – they aren't
worth it by a long shot. Besides we get plenty of reading matter from the patients.
Keep my suits free of moths sweetheart – I may need them after the war if they don't
get too old-fashioned. It's hard to imagine what it would feel like to be strolling down
the town in civvies again. As a matter of fact, I’ve forgotten there are such things as
overcoats and thick uniforms. For twelve months and more, shirts, shorts or slacks
have been the order of the day. Shorts are out in NG now so I am a lily-white once
more.
The old man with a long white whiskers comes tomorrow and I hope he brings you
everything you wish for yourself. O.K. for the 1944 Christmas Tree, with bells and
candles complete, you can put a bottle of Daddy’s Lemonade on it for me.
I'll be thinking of the mad scramble in the exchange of gifts at 27 when the families
pay their visits. Keep the old pecker up darling, our day is coming. As ever, Your, Me
PS. All my love and kisses with a big hug. Too right, I remember that piece of canvas.
Also my old Chev. seat was handy to watch the moon on. Ever, G.
***
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25 December 1943. On good quality lined writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank and unit, censored by Lt A.D.(Doug). Dunlop NX 111014.
My Darling Marjorie, Christmas dinner is over and it was a big success. Turkey, ham
gravy cabbage etc and Christmas pudding, with custard. Not bad for the poor lonely
boys in the jungle, eh? The poultry and ham were supplied by the unit and the ACF
came to light with the "Telegraph" parcel. The contents were excellent and easily
worth 10/-. I suppose you read in the paper itself what they were. Bob Sidoti made the
bread rolls and the boys dumped all their fruit and nuts into the pool. We had 6 jars of
cordial for drinks and later we're going to have a session on "jungle" juice of which
you'll hear more later. For the first time since last Christmas the mess tables were
covered with tablecloths (sheets) and the decorations consisted of palm leaves, ferns
and pieces of bush so we captured the old time spirit. Around the sides of the hut were
signs touching on things, some unmentionable, of topical interest. This afternoon
we’re sampling the Panther's P and its extra strong – you know the kind that throws
your head back with a click.
How did you fare, darling? I've been thinking of you all day and wondering what
you've been thinking. Just about now you will have finished the wash-up and are
going into the lounge for a mahuta and a cool-of. Am I right?
I haven't received any mail for a few days but the planes came in today so probably
I’ll get some later. Your parcels didn't arrive in time but we have plenty to go on with
and yours will be very handy for New Year so everything’s honky-dory.
Now darling girl I'll sign off and have a bit of shut-eye to prepare for the session. A
big Christmas kiss and all my love extra special. Always your own, Me.
***
27 December 1943. On good quality lined writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank and unit, censored by Lt A.D.(Doug). Dunlop NX 111014.
My Darling Marjorie, When I finished writing last time, I think I'd just got up to the
beginning of the jungle brew session. Imagination is a wonderful thing you know.
Lined up along the "bar" were a score of beer-starved faces watching Rocky
measuring out the precious fluid – two bottle-caps per man. Then a rush for the mug
and one sip followed by another rush for the cordial bottle. Remember how I used to
react to Dad's over-proof rum – well, the results of the sample were the same. Still,
most of us were able to take another nip to finish it off and there were no hangovers.
The "juice" tasted like a raw gin I thought, and if there had been enough for about half
a dozen nips each I'm sure it would have been as good as a trip around the world for
nothing. Tell Aub I'm taking out patents on the still and he can take a half share if he
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likes. For New Years Eve there will be a jungle "Sherry" on the wine list for a
change.
On Christmas Night we went to a concert, put on by the engineers – pretty good effort
for mugs at the game, considering the material they had to draw on. The stage was
constructed from the tabletops of two trucks, with tent-flyers draped like curtains.
Evidently someone in the area has a flair for art as the back-drops were charcoal
impressions of the big city and the merry-go-round in carnival settings. The band
consisted of two saxes, piano-accordion, guitar, mouth organ and an improvised set of
drums. Unfortunately the valves of the mike burned out in the afternoon and the
singers and performers voices were hard to hear above the din of the heavy rain
falling on the tin roof but who cared anyway. Half-way through the show, a swarm of
flying ants came in and took possession of the theatre. However by turning them away
to bright lights down one end, the show was able to go on. Coming back we all got
soaked – with rain of course.
Yesterday was Pross's birthday-- Boxing Day to some people but just another Sunday
to us except for the fact that Norman's present got a bit of a caning. I received three
letters, your card and the telegram from Irene McIntosh. Two of the letters were from
you and the other from Dulce. It was nice of Mackie to think of me, wasn't it.
Your Christmas Card, sweetheart, is one of the nicest I've ever seen and I can easily
see what your thoughts were when you selected it. If the scene didn't remind you of
"Nortoft" I'm on the wrong track altogether. Thank you for the little message of good
cheer and also for the Lottery ticket. Hope I'm lucky enough to draw first prize – even
the second prize, would do.
I read where the GPO had handled 22% more mail this year than last so that probably
accounts for the slow delivery of my letters. The postman will be giving you a cheery
smile by this time.
I mentioned in one letter about the pound I sent for your present and the reason I
didn't send more was because of the scarcity of things in Sydney. Hope you're able to
get the necessities for the Christmas table – sorry I couldn't share mine with you.
Wonders will never cease – we had eggs for breakfast this morning, believe it or not.
The first we've had since leaving the mainland and boy were they good?
Bruce is getting the breaks with all those dames to attend to – tell him to keep one for
me. I thought Norm was enough for him to handle. Sugar-pie will scream for help
when I get near.
And that just about finishes the gossip for today my darling. I’ll be with you again
soon so until then keep the old chin up.
Seeing you in the usual place tonight with all my love and kisses and cuddles.
Ever your loving husband, George.
PS. Your last letter was dated December 18, (No. 20). Darling if you send your
photograph ordinary registered mail, it will be okay.
***
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29 December 1943. On good quality lined writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank and unit, censored by Lt A.D.(Doug). Dunlop NX 111014.
My Darling Marjorie, Wotta day was yesterday for yesterday brought me eight letters
and two telegrams. Pross also scored with four letters and four telegrams and
everybody had a handful. Now they are moaning because they have to write the
replies. Not me, though. I spend a lot of time writing – that's why my souvenir
making is way behind.
Your letters were numbers 21, 22, 23 and 24, a daily diary from December 20 to
December 23. I'll be expecting you to write every day now that you're spoilt me.
Thank you darling, you are the sweetest girl in all the world.
How is the little clock on the shelf? You know it makes me sad when I think of all
those ticks away from you. We’ll have a lot of time to make up when we are together
again, won’t we. And about that dropping in for afternoon tea, there's nothing I’d like
better. Remember the little parties were used have when Dad was having a shower.
I didn't see "My Gal Sal " but when you say it's the best you have seen for long time I
know how much you must have enjoyed it. We always liked the same things, didn't
we.
The leave question is uppermost in everyone's mind these days – who is to go next is
a matter for the powers that be to decide. I think I have a good chance of being home
around about Easter – perhaps sooner, perhaps later. By now, you will realise that
nothing in the army is certain, especially if one refuses to play the fiddle. Booking
ahead though, I'm afraid it wouldn't be possible for you to make the train as leave
doesn't start until we have checked out from the showground or somewhere. However
you can count on me to telephone you every five minutes to give you a chance to get
your glad-glads on.
Norma's parcel hasn’t reached me yet and I'm still waiting for one from the girls in the
office. They'll get here eventually I suppose. Tell Norm I'll let her know when they
do. Marge dear, I forgot to wish Bruce the compliments of the season. How it
happened I don't know because I always think of him as one of the family. I have a
letter from him to answer so I'll explain to him that the jungle juice got the better of
me.
You told me not to encourage you to be extravagant – well, that raises a smile. I've
been trying to do that little thing for years without success. I can see I'll have to do
something about it when I get home.
The snifter with Dad before dinner sounded a bit of all right, cold or no cold. The
three of us could have had a quiet little evening at home with that as in other days –
Mum never was a stayer, was she.
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Local news is scarce. We met a party of Kukus today and got some more bows and
arrows, just missed out on the fruit. The weather is still hot and not much rain. It
rained like the dickens on Christmas Day and we’ve had a few heavy showers in
between but it's "drought weather" for here.
Good night now darling – the swing session has started. Until next time all my love
and extra luscious kisses and a big hug, ever you, George.
P.S. Letter from Mitch enclosed.
***
31 December 1943. On good quality lined writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham .
My Darling Marjorie, Tonight we say farewell to 1943 and as I look back over the
long months I feel that something that I missed – your companionship. I shall always
remember ‘43 with a pang of regret because you were so far away from me. Still, I'll
be happy when I think of how well you bridged the gap with your loving letters,
carrying their messages of good cheer. You'll never know how much I longed to be by
your side at times – especially when I realised how lonely you must have been or
when you were mourning the loss of a good friend. You weren’t always sad though,
and if I had Alladin’s lamp I would have been with you enjoying your laughter and
fun.
Perhaps this is the wrong way to start a letter at this time but I write as the mood
moves me. Anyhow this is just fill-in to say hello darling and wish you a happy New
Year. Tomorrow I'm writing again and it's going to be a bit, even if it takes me all
night to write it.
I suppose you'll be having a night out at Bet's – hope you will have made it one of the
brightest. Next year we may be together and then I'll see that you don't have one dull
moment but in the meantime don't miss any of the fun.
How are you feeling, sweetheart? Look after yourself for me, won't you and let me
know when anything is wrong. You mustn't keep anything from me because I'd rather
know.
For myself I can say I'm feeling very well – any complaints I have or have had are
merely minor and the good Sydney climate will straighten them up in no time. So far
both Pross and I have been very lucky and there's no reason why it shouldn't continue
that way.
Now sweetheart, darling I’ll say goodnight or I'll be writing myself out of tomorrow's
letter. Once again, Happy New Year and all you wish yourself. Love and kisses extra
special hug, every your devoted husband, George.
***
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January 1944.
Bulldog: promotion to Lance-Corporal, surgery, gifts to Yule
Islanders, leave and censorship pains.
1 January 1944. On lined, lower quality writing pad paper, in ink with regimental
number, rank and unit, no censor’s signature.
Dearest Maggie, Today is the beginning of a new period in our lives and we don't
know what is in store for us. It's a bit desperate sometimes when one looks ahead and
plans to do things with the one worthwhile person in the world and then has to wipe
the whole scheme because of the uncertainty of everything. Often I've been like that
but now I've made a resolution that I'll be patient and let fate, or what have you, take
its course. In the words of Shakespeare I decided that "there is a destiny that shapes
our ends, rough-hew them as we may" and nothing can change it. Don't think my
outlook is gloomy – far from it – it's just a realisation that the future is out of our
hands. Still, hoping for the sweet of life keeps us going and we'd be missing
something if we didn't hope, wouldn't we?
My best wish for the New Year is that I'll be with you soon and that we will never
again be apart for such a long time.
Last night when I went to bed I began to think about what I was going to put in this
letter and in my mind I told you things I can't write. Censorship cramps my style. It's
difficult to write intimately when you know somebody is going over it later with a
magnifying glass and developing chemicals to see what you really mean. Of course
not everyone is deterred by this thought and they talk about things as they would
about a hot dinner and they mention their amazing adventures just as if they'd really
happened. You'd think they had bombs for breakfast every morning instead of beans.
I understand it's quite to the contrary when men get near to the front line.
But I'm getting away from my unwritten letter of last night. We had finished
Norman's whiskey and my thoughts were in Sydney. I remembered our last few hours
together. How lovely they were! This parting, more than anything else, has made me
realise how big you have been in my life. No words of mine can express how close
you are to me. It's like a soul split in two. When I see anything I always want to rush
to my pen and tell you about it. If it is something funny I can hear you laughing
because I know you laugh at the same things as I do. Maybe I tell you about a tree
falling or how the roof leaks or how I celebrated some special occasion. I suppose it's
all very boring to the censor but that doesn't stop me because I know you want to
know how I live and what goes on apart from military matters.
When I see a pretty flower growing by the wayside I want to pick it and give it to you
because you love flowers so much. Someone whistles and I almost turn around to see
if you are there – remember our whistle call. I used come running when I heard that
didn't I?
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Every day when the mail comes my heart beats a little bit quicker and your familiar
handwriting brings a big smile to my face. Needless to say your letters are the first I
read and they are read several times. You're such a darling to write so often. There’s
one thing I must warn you about, and that is you shouldn't tell me to come home
because you miss me. Don't you know there's a penalty for inducing soldiers to desert.
Just wait till I get back, I'll punish you – with kisses.
Your timing is perfect, sweetheart. Today the parcel including the materials for the
boys arrived by plane. It was one of four for the unit. Thank you dear. Perhaps I can
get Kurua to scribble your note – I'll ask him when I give him his piece. Miki is away
on leave at present but he should be back in a week or so. The sweets and other things
for me, will be enjoyed very much.
The warning for "Lights out" has gone so I'll have to close now, dearest wife in the
world. Soon I'll be under my net thinking those same lovely thoughts. Chin up dear –
be seeing you in dreams. Love and kisses with all the trimmings, Always Your own,
Me.
PS. The calendar card you sent in the parcel makes me think of home.
***
4 January 1944. On lined, lower quality writing pad paper, in ink with regimental
number, rank and unit, no censor’s signature. This is the first time that George’s rank
is listed as L/Cpl.
My Darling Sweetheart, After a break of a few days without mail yesterday I
received your letter written on Christmas Eve. Your description of the doings at 27
took me back to other times like that. I hope next time you wont be writing to me but
that we’ll be dishing out the presents together. I expect Mother missed us – we always
were rowdy, around about Christmas time, weren’t we? And the big ‘frig would have
to allow enough space for a couple of quarts – usually old "Bob's" supply.
I told you in my last letter that the parcel with the coloured materials, hankies etc
turned up at last. It hasn't been touched yet as we are pretty well off at present.
Darling don't send any more powdered milk or Malted Milk – the place is lousy with
it. I know how hard it is for you to know what to send but I'm afraid I can't help you
much with suggestions. You see we have the Defence Canteen here and they have a
pretty good stock of necessities at times and their prices are much lower than Sydney
prices. Of course there are in periods when stocks are short but there's no way of
anticipating when there's going to be a famine. Fruitcake has been "plentiful" lately
too so I think the best thing to do is for me to let you know when I want anything.
How about that?
I'll hold you to your promise to put roses in my cheeks – and the twinkle in my eye –
Whacko!
In case you didn't notice I'll draw your attention to my New Year's honour (in
address). I hope the poor little stripe doesn't die of loneliness. Before you start to
laugh, remember Hitler and Napoleon were Lance Corporals once.
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Now darling girl I'll say goodbye as the post is about to close. I'm sending this in a
green envelope in hopes of catching up on last time – should have been censored this
morning. Lots of love and kisses and my extra special hug. As always, Me.
***
5 January 1944. On lined, lower quality writing pad paper, in ink with regimental
number, rank and unit, censored by Capt Dunlop.
My Darling Marjorie, Tonight the morale of the troops is much higher – the plane
brought in a bundle of letters. I got three from you (December 26 – 28) and Pross a
couple from home.
I can well imagine the Christmas party at Bet's and the sing-song with the Wehrs –
just like old times. Sorry I couldn't be there to add to the noise – the old count sure
has the right idea about parties. Nothing better than sneaking off into a corner to a
little steady drinking. Next time you see Aub tell him I'll be able to give him a few
wrinkles about brewing and distilling.
I think I gave you the details about our Christmas and something of New Year's eve's
doings. As a matter of fact New Year's Eve was one of the strangest I've ever
experienced but it's a long story and I'll leave it until I come home.
By the time this letter reaches you the festive season will be over and everyone will
be settling down to hard work again. You'll have Sugar back with you all suntanned
and everything – the time soon goes doesn't it?
Thanks for the messages from Jim Morey, Betty and Dulce etc – perhaps we’ll be
able to arrange a party with them some time. News today is very much brighter and it
looks as though things will be coming to a head soon.
Sorry to hear the sad news of Betty Menzies husband – the old Doc certainly has had
more than his share of tragedy in this war. Is Bruce out of the Navy yet?
I think you are the most wonderful wife in the world, darling– sitting up to write to
me in the middle of the night after a tiring day with the family. I'll make up for it
when our ship comes in.
Haven't heard from Hugh or Trev for ages. Trev must be away still or you would have
heard from him, I'm sure. He's probably cruising around the Atlantic. Did I tell you I
heard that he was mentioned in dispatches. Haven't had any confirmation there.
Evidently the mail is held up but you should be getting them now. We’re both
suffering from the same trouble of not having anything to write about. Anyhow even
if we just say hello to each other regularly I'll be satisfied. So until next time, dearest
I'll say good night and God bless. Happy dreams and all my love and kisses. As
always Your, Me.
***
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6 January 1944 . On ACF letterhead, quarto sized, in ink, with regimental number,
name and rank and unit, censored by Capt Dunlop.
Marjorie Darling, Another of your letters arrived today (No. 24) and I'm happy to
hear that mine have turned up at last.
When the old man with white whiskers called on me, he deputised me to deliver what
you wished for. It will be coming along within the next few months so just be patient
a little while longer. By the way I'm still mucking around with your trinkets, earrings
etc and I've made a nice ring for you. Perhaps next week I'll be able to pack the
parcel.
The weather and mosquitoes at night discourage all ideas of souvenir making – I just
feel like flopping under the net in my birthday suit to keep cool and protected.
Mitch Black's airgraph Christmas card was pretty good wasn't it. I notice he used
every bit of available space for his messages. I'll have to write and tell him that he’s
only second on the list is far as those free copies of “ Man" are concerned. Now, that
doesn't mean I want you to buy them. They're not worth 2/-.
Pross heard from Ron Dymant today (He was my offsider on the blitz) and he says
Ding Dong is on the next list for leave. Col has mentioned it himself but – I suppose
he feels that nothing is certain until the day thereunto. He'll be up to see you if he
does crack it, you can betcha life. Gradually the list of those entitled to leave is
growing smaller so my hopes are rising. The new arrangement is much more
satisfactory and Pross and I will be coming home together but of course when we
haven't any idea.
WO Peters came down with the CO a few days ago and we were put through an
efficiency test, all passing with honours. That means we get 6d. a day extra pay dating
back to July 1 which means £4.15.0 to be collected to date. So much more to use on
leave holiday. Lance-corporal's are on the same pay as "first-class" privates I
understand so the stripe doesn't make any difference to the coffers.
I'll be writing again tomorrow sweetheart so I'll say cheerio for now. All my love and
kisses and big hugs to the one and only. Ever Yours, George.
PS. I got a date with an angel tonight – in dreams. G.
***
7 January 1944. On ACF letterhead, quarto sized, in ink, with regimental number,
name and rank and unit, censored by Capt Dunlop.
Hello Darling, Here’s that note I promised to you last night. It's about 12.30 and mess
is just over so instead of having a "mahuta" I thought I'd have a little talkie with you.
Talking of talkies I notice Women's Weekly gave "The Major and the Minor" only
two stars. Well I wouldn't take much heed of that because it's a top ranker for 1943
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and everyone who saw it agreed with me. Remember the low rating they gave "It
happened one Night".
The mobile picture unit which was supposed to come here didn't turn up and probably
never will now. I could do with a good movie, too.
Our gramophone spring has broken again – for the seventh or eighth time – and the
radio is out of repair. So all we have to do at night is play cards or twiddle our
thumbs. Pross will be going to workshops this afternoon and he should be able to get
the spring welded.
How are you darling? And how is the old blood building up? By the time this war is
over you will be holding the record for donations.
I received a very nice letter from Ann yesterday – can hardly believe she's so grownup. She tells me Susan won second prize for something or other at school. Looks like
Sue's going to be a good scholar, too. Her Dad used call her "professor" at one time.
Ann talks a lot about sport and stage, strangely enough and always puts schoolwork in
the background.
I'm trying to get hold of an extra good "lakatoi" for an ornament, dear so you needn't
bother about hanging on to either of those I sent before. They were made by our own
natives but the Yule Island boys make much better ones and I'll just wait to take my
pick.
‘Bout time I signed off darling girl as the mail awaits. Keep smiling and look after
yourself. Love and kisses and extra special hugs. Ever your loving husband, George.
***
8 January 1944. On ACF letterhead, quarto sized, in ink, with regimental number,
name and rank and unit, censored by Capt Dunlop.
My Darling Marjorie, The mail isn't in it so I haven't heard from you for a few days.
I'll be going down for it in a few minutes but I thought I'd start this note to you
although I haven't much to say.
At last I have the two walking sticks – for Dad and Don – and they're not bad. There
is still a bit of cleaning up to be done on them but I'll probably be finished with them
by the end of the week and have them posted. You would be surprised if you saw how
the boys whittle these sticks out of a solid lump of wood. It beats me how they can get
the shaft so straight. Boivari made both of them and it took him only a few hours to
get them roughed-out. I am filing off the bumps and sandpapering them for the
polishing.
Boivari left us yesterday to go back to his village on leave. He was a bright spark
around the camp and he'll be missed. He "savvied" very well and was very quick in
picking up Army talk. The night before he left, he came over to our hut and put on a
"show" for us. We asked him if he was sorry at leaving us and he said "Ah, taubadas,
I sorry you no go back to Australia" and he meant it. The lads teased him about the
good time, he'd have with the kekenis in the village and gave him tins of tobacco etc.
285
and, I believe when he got back to his camp he had a bit of a weep. I suppose it would
be a big break for him as he got on very well with everybody and they looked after
him when he had cuts or sores or didn't feel the best.
I cut the floral material in halves and gave one piece to Boivari to use for a "lami" –
he was very pleased with it. When I pointed out that it was transparent he laughed like
blazes and said "He all right". I'm keeping two pieces for the other boy "Miki" who is
away at present. He is bringing back grass skirts and things from his village. It's not
certain that he will return but I'll wait as long as I can for him.
LATER. Whacko darling, I've just returned with the mail and there are four from you
and one from Sugar for me. Your last letter is dated January 2. Glad to hear you are
all well and are keeping the old flag flying. I'm not answering your letters now darling
as there is not time. It's my rest day tomorrow and I'll be with you then.
All my love and kisses and extra luscious. Ever Your, Me.
***
10 January 1944. On airmail letter card, with penny stamp, in ink, with regimental
number rank name and unit, censored by Capt GH Cossins.
Marjorie Darling, This is just another little note to say "Howya". It's Monday
morning and the weather's sultry with rain to follow. Also to repeat "I love you".
Thank you dear for four lovely letters received yesterday. They give me all the news
of your Christmas and New Year's Eve doings and I'm pleased to hear you enjoyed
yourself with the folks at Betts Avenue. I felt a little envious of you with the bottle in
the cupboard on the Eve (our "juice" wasn't exactly champagne) and I bet Doug and
Dulce got on their pink ears. Doesn't take much to make Dulce happy does it? She's a
great kid and I'm thankful for her being so understanding.
Gordon Howe has had some thrilling moments from accounts. I'd like to hear his
experiences first-hand – may meet him one of these days. President Roosevelt’s
decoration must be very rare among Australians. Auntie Ciss is very proud, I suppose.
When you see Tony and Ethel tell them I'll be coming around to see them and will
play merry h____ with that decanter.
It seems that the latter part of 1943 was the most tragic of all among our friends.
Never before has so much tragedy come into their lives. It's hard to believe that Bob
Campbell and the others have gone. I remember Bob coming around to 27 and
strutting the lawn in his uniform. He didn't think he'd be killed – nobody ever does
and he was going to have a great time. And that's the best kind of philosophy in war
because we have no way of controlling our destinies.
I haven't heard anything further about leave but every day brings its closer and that
thought conjures up dreams of happiness. I don't think you'll be asleep when the time
comes as you'll have plenty of warning. Don't build up to much hopes of it being in
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the immediate future though as there is still a lot due for it and it's more or less a
lottery.
Which reminds me we didn't win with "Happy Christmas", never mind we’re lucky in
many other ways, aren't we?
And that brings the regular chat to an end once more, darling. I can picture you
folding the quilt and getting ready to go dreaming. Be with you soon so don't get
"blue". Love to the family and extra special for you. Kisses and hugs, as ever Your,
Me.
PS. The toe's okay – still turns up on the end a bit. – Love G.
***
12 January 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, I have two of your letters to answer tonight, 34 and 35. They
arrived yesterday with one from little Sue. She wants a grass skirt but, at present, they
are not to be had so when you see her down at home tell her I’ll write when I can get
hold of one.
I hope your eyes are better after the burning from the sun. Next time be sure to wear
glare glasses dear, and you will be able to take in all the baking you wish. If your eyes
are still sore better go along and let Doc Brown have a look at them – they're too
precious to take risks with as you have told me many times.
The eggs were a special for Christmas and we haven't seen any more since – nor are
we likely to. A couple of days ago one of the shooting boys brought in a wild pig but I
couldn't tackle it. The meat was dark and coarse, not at all like pork. Tonight, the
fresh meat was cassowary – you know, all same emu. No good – I'll stick to my bullybeef
Your party at the “Savoy” sounds as if Mrs Rogers has been winning some more
competitions. "The Great Waltz" was worth seeing again, although an old timer.
Glad to hear of old Bill and next time you write tell him I wish him the best of luck
for leave soon. They might be pulling out from there before very long and he might be
sent to a better place.
Yesterday I went from a trip up into the hills and saw a lot of new country. The
temperature up there is a good deal lower than here and they have to use three
blankets at night to keep warm. There aren't any mosquitoes or flies which is a big
relief after this place. Along the way there are some lovely views and wildflowers
actually growing. Very much like Blue Mountains country but of course more rugged.
In one spot, the road goes through a huge rock and in several places its a ledge cut out
of the side of the mountains with big drops down to the river.
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Coming back, we met the Kuku’s again – about 15 of them. They were quite friendly
but ferocious looking with bones and teeth around their necks and through their noses.
I'd like to take a photograph of them – may get a chance later on.
The crowd have just started to move in for a gramophone so that's the end of the
writing for tonight, dear. Love to all the family and Uncles and Aunts etc. Keep the
old chin up, darling. Be seeing you. Kisses and hugs. Ever your, Me.
***
14 January 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, I've just been doing a little bit of sandpapering on the walking
sticks and they are just about ready to be packed up. They aren't bad for hand-made
jobs and I think Dad and Don will like them. As I told you before, I am making a
special effort to get all my souvenirs away this week so you can expect to get a couple
of parcels in five or six weeks time.
Haven't received any letter mail since I last wrote but yesterday the long awaited
parcel from Norma arrived and it was in perfect condition. Not so with the parcel
from the office girls, though – that one was broken open and some of the contents
missing and what was there was saturated with water. They had wrapped them in a
cardboard box and not very well, either. However I managed to salvage a packet of
jubes and a sticky mess that was once barley sugar or something. Tell Norm her
parcel is very much appreciated – although she shouldn't have sent sox – and thank
Mum for the hankies. All the magazines you sent turned up today – the last "Women's
Weekly" is dated December 11. If I read them all I'll be getting behind with my
correspondence but I don't think I'll be doing that.
You should have seen the ambulance stacked up with the bags of parcels – fifteen in
all. Nearly one bag a piece. Our hut looked like a junk store after a sale when the
parcels were opened. Pross scored well with about a dozen or so including an extra
special from Cecil.
In spite of all the good things that came, most of us were disappointed that there were
no letters. It may sound strange but I think the majority prefer letters to parcels and
that doesn't mean anyone is ungrateful. Still tomorrow will bring us plenty of letters –
I hope.
I had a glance through the "Weeklies" and noticed the "stories" on the hardships and
etc being suffered by the AAMWS and nurses – well, well. Also, mention of the
abundance of pawpaws and bananas around that particular base brought forth a smile.
Either Alice Jackson has a wonderful imagination or else she struck a spot that is not
known to common soldiers. Even here, fresh fruit is scarce but of course further up in
the hills there is plenty and Bill Peters told me they were getting a good supply of
green vegetables as well. Usually most of the stuff is found around the villages and
missions. The Kukus sometime bring down bananas but they are always cleaned out
before they reach us. One thing we get plenty of is coconuts. They don't grow in this
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particular spot but down the river there are plantations and they are brought up in
barges for the natives. Last night the squirrels decided to have a feed on a couple we
had in the hut. I couldn't stand the noise so got up and hunted the noisy little brutes.
The rainy weather is with us again and it's much cooler. We are happy now that our
hut is waterproof – more or less. And that's about all until next time darling. Meet you
in the same place tonight. Love and kisses from, Your, Me.
***
16 January 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, No letters to reply to – the last one I received was dated
January 5 – and doesn't look like there will be any mail today. So what are we going
to talk about. I could tell you that I did my weekly wash last night at 9.30 (Saturday
night). – When probably half of Sydney was taking in Saturday night's joys --- but
that would be just to fill in space. However I'm glad I haven't got a wash today as its a
good day to get some private work done after my writing is finished
I had intended to get up early this morning to go shooting with Kurua but the weather
was too uncertain and I don't relish walking miles through swamps and creeks. There
are plenty of wild pigs, "Bush turkeys" and other things to shoot if one cares to make
a bit of an effort. The only trouble is that when one is successful there’s the work of
cleaning them and nobody is very keen on wild meat, anyway.
The sergeant at Angau told me that the celebrated Birds of Paradise live around these
parts but they are very elusive and I haven't seen any. I believe they have a "run"
between trees near their haunts and the only way to get them is to lay in wait for them.
Birds of Paradise are protected to the extent of £100 fine if you're caught with them.
Yanks pay anything up to £50 a bird I understand so you can guess they are pretty
rare.
Hope you're well and happy sweetheart and keeping the kids in order. Give my love
to them all, will you. Extra special to you with hugs and kisses. As always, Me.
PS. The writing case is a great idea and gets plenty of use. I'm thinking of Austinmer
their October 14, 1939. We must go there again sometime. Love G.
***
17 January 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, I have just been accused of scabbing on the union of nonwriters. They have decided not to write any more letters until they receive some.
Tonight they are having a "hate session" in the hut – cussing everyone and in
particular the Yanks. However I'm out of it because yesterday I received your letter of
January 6 and anyway you never let me down.
289
It's good news to hear that you're well and that everyone is battling along as well as
can be expected. Pross and I is pretty fit except for mild skin complaints which I'm
afraid, will be with us until we move to colder climes. I've tried almost everything to
cure mine, without avail. Please don't send anything as we have the stuff here,
complete with dispenser. Thanks just the same darling.
Another batch of leave-getters is on the way at last, which means that many less from
those still to go. Our time is coming closer and I'm beginning to think that your
dreams will be coming true. I get a funny feeling inside if I let my imagination run
away with me, don't you? It doesn't seem possible that I will be walking down
Collingwood Street again with that pretty little blonde.
I spent my rest day yesterday polishing and staining a walking stick. Then I packed
the parcel sewing up the hessian with a large darning needle. The lot comprises of two
sticks and some arrows. Dad can take his pick of the sticks and you can give the other
one to Don Campbell if he would like it. Let me know which one Dad chooses will
you, dear and why? Just for my information. I had to cut some of the arrows to
conform to postal regulations re. size. The bow is too long so I'll have to cart that
around with me for a while. I have some more arrows, too.
The "session" is in full swing now and I'm sitting out in the jeep in the fading light.
Pross is having some luck at cards so we reckon his dame is out with a Yank tonight.
Someone suggested the Yank was pacing up and down the corridor at the Women's
Hospital.
Must say good night, now sweetheart before the mozzies grab me. A big kiss with all
my love. As always, your, Me.
***
19 January 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
Marjorie Dear, Another day over and a hot one too. And no mail again. So this letter
will have to be a short one as there is little to write about. We are just paddling along
rubbing on a little metho here and there and sprinkling some powder over the skin
complaints to keep them under control. There isn’t much else we can do about them.
The work outside is just about finished and it is merely a matter of keeping the place
tidy and looking after the jeeps. The hospital is always full with the sick and ailing
and there is quite a bit of surgery work done.
I received a letter from "Ding Dong" a couple of days ago and he asks me to send his
kind regards to "your dear spouse". His writings are always couched in Shakespearean
terms and from the swivel chair at the table of the General Staff he hopes we are
upholding the tradition of the Ninth assuring us that he is "Backing the Attack" at
base. Col finishes his satire with the Latin "Dulce et decorum pro patria mori" which
translated means "It is noble and manly to die for the fatherland" or something along
those lines. He writes a very humorous letter.
How's the old burgh getting along those days. Pretty quiet without the boys, I
suppose. And how are you and the family? Hope you are not feeling too blue because
290
things are looking brighter than ever and in a few months we’ll be seeing each other, I
feel sure.
Give Norm the usual for me and love to Mum and Dad. Meet you in the same old
place tonight. Until next time sweetheart, my fondest love and kisses. As ever, Me.
***
21 January 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
Dearest Marjorie, After three nights of "Bridge" I've decided that I must be very
lucky at love. Because it's cost me 11 bob – can't do anything right lately. On top of
all this misfortune or what have you there is the depressing factor of no mail and to
save myself from chasing butterflies I have been reading and rereading your latest
letter number 36 which I hadn't at hand when I last wrote.
Dad was suffering badly with his old complaint – I hope by now he's over the bout
and is getting around again.
The "spuds" have done very well by all accounts. I suppose ‘ere this you have a new
crop in and the beans are in full swing.
You were asking whether I'm quite sure that I'm feeling okay. Sure I'm sure I'm okay
and even the skin rash is much improved. When they say here's your leave pass my
greatest ailment will disappear sweetheart.
I hadn't heard that Bill's brother-in-law had been in Moresby or I would have looked
him up. As a matter of fact I haven't met anyone I know outside the unit since arriving
on the island and it's not likely that I will in these parts. Bill Trysyth certainly was
lucky to get a move to Newcastle. Isn't he in the Airforce?
Kurua has written a letter but he hasn't given it to me yet. If he brings it over tonight
I'll enclose it with this. (Later, enclosed).[Reproduced next page].
Now, sweetheart darling, I'll say goodbye until next time. With all my love and kisses.
Your old boyfriend, Me.
***
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292
***
23 January 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
Dearest Marjorie, First of all I'll tell you I received your January 13 letter in this
morning's mail which breaks the silence of about 10 days, (I think). From your
numbering I reckon that there are five more letters yet to come. The morale of this
detachment is a little brighter today but it has been at a very low ebb lately because of
the lack of news from home. I understand the complaint is general in the area so we
are not being specially sorted out for this neglect . You too will have been waiting to
hear from me for days as there has been no mail going outwards. But we’ll just have
to put up with that as these things are out of our control
I haven't heard any more from "Ding Dong" so I don't know whether he got away on
leave or not. There are two Colin Bells in the unit and I know the other one is on his
way home. Possibly two names have been confused and little Annie will have to wait
a while longer for her soldier poet.
The oft spoke of earrings are causing me a lot of trouble – the perspex clips broke for
the third time the other night and I might have to wait until I can get some screw clips
before I can complete them. However I'll try once more and if unsuccessful I'll send
the ring by itself
The corporal in green will be on time for his date with an angel, I can assure you dear.
Yesterday I had a day on my spine, not sleeping because there was so much
movement and noise in the hut and the day was very hot. On the previous night I
decided to get under my net at about 9 o'clock and I read an abridged version of John
Steinbeck's "The Moon is Down" which incidentally is a good story. For the first time
since we've been here I was asleep at "Lights out" only to be disturbed at 11 by an
urgent call. Two of us went out in the ambulance and a few miles along the road we
ran over the largest snake I've ever seen out of captivity. It must have measured
between 15 and 20 feet but of course like the fish, it got away. Our patient was
brought across in the lakatoi and he was doubled up with pain and to make matters
worse the river was well down, so we had to wade in to get him on the stretcher. Then
a slow trip back to the hospital during which he brought his inside outside, poor chap.
Capt Clipsham diagnosed his complaint as appendicitis and decided to operate
immediately. Another doctor was required to give the anaesthetic and I drove up into
the hills to get him. She sure was a rough ride. Moss and “Rocky" were with me,
hanging onto their undies. On arriving at the camp we had to hunt around the tents
and buildings to find someone who could tell us where the doc slept. Moss walked
into one tent and shook a cove on the shoulder and said "Hey, sport, where’s the doc
hang out". A sleepy voice replied "Over in the hut at the rear" . Coming back in the
jeep the M0 told us the voice belonged to the C.O. of the unit. At 3:20 AM we were
back at the hospital having completed a journey of 40 miles over mountains and rivers
293
and through misty rain – two and three-quarter hours including the stops is not bad
going on at that time of the night on this road. After a cup of tea Captain Clipsham
prepared the theatre and everyone for the job which in itself is no mean task. I was an
onlooker with nothing to do except keep the lights going and help hold the patient as
he went "under". I never did like the sight of blood and I was wondering how I'd go in
the close-up of the incision. At first I felt a little peculiar but after a few minutes I was
able to watch everything that was going on, with great interest. It was a neat bit of
surgical tailoring and, once again, it confirms what I have told you previously about
our own. O.C. We've got a real boss.
Yesterday, afternoon I posted you a tin containing two cocoanut baskets for nuts or
sweets, designed and made by yours truly and a bracelet made of perspex for Anne.
Also in the parcel is a boong armband and two pairs of socks sent to me for
Christmas. Tell Norm not to get offended about me sending them home because I'll
need them when I'm on leave. Up here we have to travel light and I already have six
pairs of socks and I need more room in my pack for souvenirs. So something's got to
go overboard.
Another thing, darling, don’t send any more parcels for a while as we may be moving
around and they take a long time to catch up, if ever. There's nothing official about
this but troops in malarious areas are supposed to be moved out after four months
service I think. I'll be glad to get relief from the heat and mozzies at the earliest
possible moment. The perspiration is running off me in bucketfuls so this is where I
take my bow, darling and get a shower.
Until next time goodbye and good sailing. All my love and kisses to my best girl as
always. George.
***
25 January 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham
Marjorie Darling, Everything's rosy for I have just finished reading five of your
letters which came out of today's mail-bags. Your numbers are in line again and the
last letter bears the date January 13. I always like to tell you how much I've read of
what you have written.
Cissy seems to have a pet aversion to the display of legs – can't understand that
because there’s nothing more pleasing to my eyes than a nicely grouped piece of
anatomy. Cissy's mid-Victorian ideas would get a terrific kick in the pants if she had a
glimpse of NG natives in their G strings. Yet these people are more modest than a lot
of whites.
I've haven't heard from home lately but I think Pross got a letter from Cec this
morning, which I'll see later. Mother said that Auntie Laura was ill sometime ago so
she must be on the mend if she is able to come down to Drummoyne. The change will
help her – she loves toddling around the globe even though she's nearly 80 years old.
294
Mum's call to bolt the middle door has a familiar ring – tell her I still think burglars or
what have you would prefer to use the front door or the lounge windows.
I'm glad to know you received my unwritten letter of December 31, Maggie dear – I
know you’d understand just as plainly as if I had whispered the words in your ear. At
the best I make a very poor effort at expressing what is dearest to me, as you know,
but as long as you can hook up to my thought wave length I can get my message
through to you.
And speaking of humour – in a recent edition of Smith's there is a cartoon showing a
mother reading the story of "The Three Bears" to her small son. Interrupting the kid
says "Do you mean to tell me that the little bear kicked up all that stink about a lousy
plate of breakfast food".
I saw Bob Hope and Dot in "You got me Covered" months ago and had a good laugh
over it. Bob ranks No. 1 boy as a comedian in my estimation. I can't remember much
of it and I'd like a second helping to digest. One sequence I can think of is when he
had been fired by the boss for messing up an important foreign assignment. Dot was
expressing her feelings by giving him a luscious big kiss. Bob takes time off to look
up and say to a bunch of laughing onlookers "That's right, kick a man when he's
down"
I'm surprised to hear that Norma is still unsettled and of course I won't mention it in
my letters to her. She should keep up the physical culture business and try to relax
completely when resting. Does she still read until the small hours of the morning?
When I come home, I’ll psychoanalyse the complaint out of her but I’m afraid that
won’t be in February as you suggest. The lot for that month has been decided so
we’ve got to wait until March for the next draw. You’ll be the first to know when we
are successful—all rumours can be discounted until then.
I read in Guinea Gold about Sydney’s big storm, also of the terrible accident at the
Hawkesbury crossing.
It was best not to mention anything to Helen—some things are best left unsaid, aren’t
they. All the dames who sleep in my bed—I wonder if they dream of me—
nightmares.
And that answers all your lovely letters and brings me to the end for this time.
Goodbye now and be sure you keep a song in your heart until we get together again.
Your loving husband, George.
Not forgetting the kisses and hugs, sweetheart. G.
***
27 January 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
Dearest Marjorie, There’s only a skinny little note for you today as I haven't any
letters to answer and nothing ever happens to me except I got a puncture yesterday.
Took the ambulance up to the workshops for some air and benzene and of course had
295
to pick up a nail. Coming back we spotted a couple of Kuka’s – a little bloke and a
wild ferocious looking cove. The little one scurried off into the high grass and when
we came abreast of the other one we stopped and tried to trade for his bow but he was
too scared and waved us on. We persevered until he appeared to be getting annoyed
and then went for our lives in case he decided to do us "acrost". Some of them are
very friendly and I often dab a bit of stuff on their cuts. Just the same I wouldn't care
to meet them alone on a dark night. Kurua says they are very partial to a nice fleshy
piece of leg.
Do you remember the girl Norma used to go to lunch with some time ago – her name
was Wear. Asked Norm if her Christian name is Gloria. Last night one of our coves
mentioned the name and it struck me that it might have been the same girl.
Both springs of the gramophone are broken again so life is even duller than usual.
YMCA has promised us new ones but I think the war will be over by the time they
wake up. We've got to the stage where we play "Animal, Vegetable, mineral" to pass
the time away.
Enough of the chatter, I can hear you say.So ‘bye ‘ bye for now darling girl. Be seeing
you in the same place tonight. Love and a big kiss and hugs from, Your, Me.
PS. Don't forget to tell me when and in what conditions the parcels arrive.
***
29 January 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
Dearest Marjorie, Your January 17 letter arrived yesterday afternoon and it's ahead of
three others which the Post Office decided to pigeon-hole or something. Perhaps
they'll come tomorrow.
You mentioned that Bill's brother-in-law had been stationed near us at one time and
that he is a great friend of Capt Lawrence of the Ninth Field. I suppose you mean the
ninth Field Company – engineers – as there is no Lawrence in this unit. Capt Jim
Lawrence of the 9th Field company is Pross's old pal from Rose Bay by strange
coincidence but Pross hasn't seen him since we have been in New Guinea.
Sorry to hear Tony and George are on the sick list again and I hope the stick will suit
Dad for his wonky leg.
How did the second viewing of GW TW go? Probably that picture will have passed
into the limbo of forgotten things by the time I come home. Well, I can always say I
read the book, anyway.
To me this month seems to have raced by – over a month since Christmas. I can
hardly believe it. Every minute that passes is bringing us nearer to those good times
we’ve thought so much about. You asked whether I still felt like going away for a
holiday. That depends entirely on you and, as you say, it is best to leave the decision
until the day thereunto. You haven't had a break for a long time and the change might
296
do you the world of good. The weather I suppose will have some bearing on the
matter. It wouldn't be much chop going to a beach in cold weather, would it?
Things go on the same as usual here. We are both well. Hope you are in the pink too.
Love to the family. Chin up, sweetheart. A big kiss and hug, From your own, Me.
PS. Since writing this note I have received more letters from you the last dated
January 24. Will write again tomorrow. G.
***
30 January 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
Marjorie Darling, Here I am tuning into your beams of January 14, 16, 18, 20, 21, 23,
and 24 and feeling very happy for getting such a "break".
I'd like to sneak in one night and have a look-see at the Physical Culture exponents in
their black satin shorts and white tops – it all sounds very smart. Nothing like keeping
the torso in good shape – those outsize "dames" have an uphill battle to get down their
weight and I bet you get a bit of a laugh.
Vic's youngsters thrive on bread and jam as their main diet, don’t they? Mother says
they love visiting her and bringing her blackberries for jam making. It must be a good
holiday for them to get away from the farm. How is Ruth growing up – she used be
very attractive child with a spoiled temper but I suppose the other members of the
family have knocked that out of her. I've got to think hard to remember all of them
and I'm sure I wouldn't recognise the younger ones.
Glad to hear they are well down at home and that you met Aunt Prossie – her likeness
in looks to mother is amazing, isn't it? Auntie was a well-known figure in Hurstville
when she used to drive around in her smart Model "T" Ford dressed in her nurse's
outfit.
I haven't been able to buy another lakatoi yet but there's plenty of time. The sail on the
one you have is the kind used now, but the original native design is more the shape of
a shield and I want one like that for an ornament.
The news of Rosemary Hunter's father's death is a shock. I heard that he was a
prisoner of war in Malaya – I wonder what happened.
Matt Nolan hasn't passed this way so far and there is no information as to whether or
not that batch is back. I expect to see him before many weeks have passed.
Hunters Hill suits me if we can get a good piece of ground near the water. After being
in really "out of the way" places I don't think I’d worry too much about the extra
travelling time.
Perhaps Norma will feel much more contented when she has Helen to keep her
company at the office. She shouldn't have much difficulty in getting a new job if she
feels like a change, though.
297
LATER, (12.30) I've just come away from the mess hut where the boys are in the
throes of a loud argument on the respective aromas of Sydney and Melbourne.
Someone dug up a paragraph from "Melbourne Truth" which stated that gas masks
were needed to beat the aromas around St Kilda and Footscray. George Reeves, our
member from the South, replied with the Guinea Gold report on Sydney's polluted
harbour and the diseases contracted therefrom. We are running short of topics of
conversation.
Now I'm up to your letter of January 23 – got to go to your writings for "inspiration".
I didn't see "Song of the Islands" or "Standby for Action"; in fact it's four months or
more since I saw my last movie. Been missing some good ones too according to the
magazines.
Thank Aunty Cissy for her kind thoughts and give her my love – ask her "How’s
Lucy?"
I wrote to you sometime ago and told you not to send any more parcels for a while.
I've read in the papers how scarce things are in Sydney and at the moment our canteen
is well-stocked with tinned fruit, smokes, chocs, mixed fruits etc. Even cakes can be
had and our appetites are well satisfied with a little. I brought a small bunch of
bananas from the Kukas the other day and they should be ripe in a day or so.
If I don't mention how I'm feeling in my letters you can take it for granted that I'm
O.K.– I'll tell you when there's anything wrong with me, it gives me something to
write about.
I'll keep Ida and Guy up to their promise to cater for my parched throat, tell them – it
won't cost them much as I'm out of form.
I’ll say goodbye now darling wife and hang out the washing. Keep smiling and
remember I'm always thinking about you. Fondest love and a big kiss and extra big
hug from, Your own, Me.
PS. Don't think of sending ‘jamas – I couldn't carry them.
***
February 1944.
Bulldog: Kurua goes, cricket on the strip, dermatatitis, first move to Wau.
1 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
298
My Dearest Marjorie, The weather has been very much cooler during the last couple
of days. It has been raining quite a lot, in fact, there is a gentle drizzle at the moment,
which is a welcome change after the dusty spell.
You'll be having a visit from Mr and Mrs Colin Bell jnr. before long I suppose – he is
in the next batch for the mainland, I've heard. I don't know whether they've left yet
but I hope so as it improves our position.
Yesterday I received a letter from Betty telling me that you are looking very smart on
the back lawn in your shorts. "Mum" Thummler goes into ecstasy over her redheaded
daughter and she says that Anne is blossoming into a beautiful little brown surf gal.
Of course you wouldn't agree, would you? I hear that the old Liz had quite a bender at
Christmas, too.
We have a bit of music in the camp these days. The Red Cross sprung us a radio last
week and at night the Yankee Stations come in fairly well. On Sunday I heard the
"The Fred Allen Show" and "Command Performance", and last night "Jack Benny" –
three of America's top-liners. Command Performance stars Bob Hope, Bing, Francis
Langford etc so it should be worth an ear. From the troops point of view, the ABC
programs are punk, preference being given to Japanese stations. The female
announcer with a decided American accent calls us the "orphans of the South Pacific".
The Red Cross also sends a big bundle of pyjamas for the patients and other comforts.
Of all the organisations in this war I think the Red Cross is the most outstanding for
its good work. Medical units see it more than anyone else because the comforts are
for soldier patients but Red Cross activities in other directions are just as well known.
In the last Bulletin from the office "Snowy" gives the figures for the Art Show run by
GP's coin-catchers. The amount collected was over £800 and in addition another large
amount was handed over, due to the efforts of the staff. Pat is a go-getter for the ARC.
I'll have to finish here my darling and do a bit of work on the jeep. For this time,
goodbye and God bless you sweetheart. With all my love and kisses and hugs. As
always, Your, George.
PS. Remember how you used to stand up on the front doorstep? G.
***
3 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, Yesterday there were two letters from me from you, 47 and 53
(January 26) which means that I still have to get 52 to complete my list.
I wondered what had become of Ronnie Rogers – thought he might have transferred
to an NG unit as he was in the same formation as we were at one time. He is fortunate
in a way, to be stationed at Wagga but I'd be against taking my wife to live in any
soldiers town.
There's an air of sadness about this hut at the moment. An ANGAU sergeant has just
stolen Kurua from us and we are going to miss him. We were all very attached to him
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and he was almost in tears when he left. He didn't want to leave his taubadas as he’s
had a happy time here. However, the change may be better for him as his new boss is
from the Seven Day Adventist mission I believe and Kurua used work there. After all
we may move some time and possibly we wouldn't have been able to take him with
us.
Seems like we got our Lawrences mixed up, darling. I don't know Capt Ken Laurence
MO and he’s not in this area, also Cec says he met Jim Lawrence in Sydney (he was
here) – so what the.
Hope Tony has recovered from his operation by the time you receive this letter –
Sydney hospitals must be overcrowded if he has to wait for a bed.
Evidently your letter 52 is to tell me what happened to Malcolm Howe – hope it's
nothing serious. You needn't hold anything back from me because it's not the best of
news Darling – I like to know what's happening at home whatever it may be
Later 6:30 PM. Fish for tea tonight and very well cooked too – I thoroughly enjoyed
it. Workshops were the benefactors – they are a great crew and always give us
preference whenever possible. Tucker at present is the usual army diet, plenty of bully
beef and M & V (tinned meat and vegetables), the soldiers horror. The field bakery
now supplies as with bread, so we don't starve. Can't stomach margerine but bread
and jam fills in.
And that just about covers all there is to say today, sweetheart. Keep your sunny side
up until I come on the end of my pen again. All my love and kisses and extra special
hugs. As always, George.
PS. I love you, darling.
***
5 February 1944 On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Dear Sweetheart, I went down to the Post Office early this morning and sure
enough there were five letters in the bundle for me – yours of January 25, 27, 28, 29
and one from Dorothy Searle. Extends an invitation to you and me and the twins to
come up and see her some time. She mentioned that she is going to Casino for three
months to do her preliminary training and she's looking forward to meeting "some
good sorts". Writes a breezy little letter with plenty of back-chat in regards to
"country bumpkins" etc. A holiday at the Clarence would be good but not until after
the war. What say you? We've got other places to go before then, haven't we?
Your letter January 25 (52), gives me the story of Malcolm's rush to the hospital and
from the others I learn he’s out of danger. When you see him tell him I'm glad to hear
he got his "inter-", the news should cheer him up a lot.
Sydney's scorcher was a “beaut” – I would have spent the day in the bath if I'd been
you. The temperature here usually isn't as high as that but the humidity is at saturation
point most of the time which makes it very uncomfortable.
300
Winston's disappearance is a mystery – surely nobody would think of putting him on
the "spot" he was such an inoffensive little cat.
I would have bet that Aub's passion for his small furry friends wouldn't allow you to
be without one of them for long. We could do with a battalion of heavyweight cats
around this place to keep down the rats. Last night they had a game of shove the tins
around the hut and we discovered that we’d wrongly accused the squirrels of gnawing
our coconuts. This afternoon there’ll be a working bee constructing a trap from a big
drum.
The skin rash on my hands has almost disappeared and the itch is a bit better too.
Yesterday and today there's been some fresh butter on the menu so it appears like
Christmas again – otherwise rations are as usual.
Your letters tell me everything I want to know, sweetheart and I understand even your
unspoken thoughts. I got a great kick when I read what you want me to tell the
mosquitoes and why. You can count me in on the party 100% and Norma needn't
bother about bringing home anything. We'll make that party the best one we've ever
had.
Looks like you're having a busy time with the Kalsomine brush – must be getting
ready for the big home-coming. I hope you have it all finished before then because I
won't have time to do any painting. Paint is scarce here too. I have been trying to get
some red for the crosses on the ambulance but there's none in the area.
Tell Norma the corporal from NG will look after her when he comes back – and how.
How did the yachting trip go? I suppose she came home looking like a lobster after all
her care in trying to get a good even tan on the lawn.
Nope, I haven't seen a picture for months – the mobile unit didn't arrive and it's too
late now anyway. Our wireless will do for the rest of the time.
Mitch's people aren’t so snobbish as you might think. His Mother and Pop are keen
gardeners and you’d probably find you had a lot in common with them. I read that a
batch of RAAF boys had returned after three years abroad – Mitch's time must be
nearly up too – I'd like to run into him and put him on his ear once more.
The bus and tram strike leaves me cold although I think there's a waste of manpower
in the army. It takes five soldiers at base to do a one-man job. However if the
government put the trammies up in NG for awhile they’d change their tune and want
the jobs back.
Must away now, dearest girl. Be seeing you at our usual rendezvous. With a big kiss,
cuddle and all my love. Ever your own, Me.
***
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7 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Dearest Marjorie, It's Monday morning and my rest day so I'm getting an early
start on your letter. The mail(if any) hasn't been collected yet which means I've got a
scratch for words.
The only item to disturb our solemn existence recently was the "party" on Saturday
night. Everybody was lovely and sick. It was one of those things that happen without
any apparent reason. A few packets of mixed fruits, raisins, prunes dry yeast etc
contributed by our loving friends at home with water added and there you have a big
noise producer. Two of our ordinance cobbers came up to listen to the radio and
provided the excuse for sampling the stuff. One cove was in the Middle East and he
pepped up the session with stories of Cairo and other places and in a short time the
community singing and speech-making began. The quartet gave a rendering of "Down
by the old Mill Stream" – rendering meaning "tore apart" – which could be heard a
quarter of a mile away and then the team had to see the visitors got home safely. On
arriving there our ME friend decided to put on a shadow sparring show with a large
water bag finishing up with a terrific dive through the wall of the hut. When we
arrived back at camp a half a dozen or so forlorn figures slumped over a rail and -well you can imagine the rest. It was the first time I've seen anyone laughing while in
the throes of the results of unwise "wining". I might add that although in a bit of a
whirl I was able to make the nightmare wagon without benefit of the sobering
process. General opinion: a good time was had by all, but never no more.
Last night the patiently awaited Command Performance with Bing, B. Hope Judy
Garland, Johnny Mercer etc was interrupted by the arrival of three patients but we did
hear patches of it. I think these programs are also broadcast on the "commercial
bands". Do you ever listen to them? Command Performance comes over at 7.15
Sunday nights from the ABC and "Mail Call" on Thursday Nights. Check up and tune
in– I'm sure you'll enjoy them.
Early this morning three of our number headed for home – February batch. They are
going with others from HQ who came down last night and they'll pick up the rest
along the way. Frank Starr was very unlucky to miss out. [7 lines excised by censor.]
Pross and I are well and always thinking of the good times in store. We must crack it
some time, so get ready to "go to town", darling. Give my love to all and an extra
special bit for yourself. Kisses and hugs as never before from, Your sweeheart,
George.
***
9 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, How are you feeling this February? I suppose the weather in
Sydney is still hot and you're getting around in shorts or something cool. We’ve got to
stick to our long’uns with gaiters and its banishing the sun-tan – we’re almost
302
lilywhites in spite of the tropics. Tonight the sky is overcast and I'm just about one
large drop of sweat – so I'm praying for rain to cool me off.
Here’s a highlight from yesterday's news. You remember the Christmas dinner I told
you about – well to tell you the truth the ham was too fatty for me and the piece of
turkey (approximately 2 ounce) was mostly outside skin which I couldn't eat.
However, I concede that I'm "faddish" and ham and turkey, under the circumstances
was a luxury. The point is the ration allowed by the unit fund was insufficient for the
dinner so we took it on ourselves to spend about 3 pounds more of the £200 in hand
and give the patients as well as ourselves at least a taste of Christmas. Yesterday news
came through that the unit had given every member 10/- as a present but in the case
of this detachment, 3/- or so is to be deducted to cover the amount that was spent on
Christmas Day. The thing that is worrying me is what the Prices Commissioner will
do if he hears of the charge for our Christmas Dinner. Please don't think I'm
complaining, dear – it's just that I'm "worried". Still seven bob in hand is something –
I think I'll go out and get drunk on it.
The mail plane forgot us today and I'm struggling to make this run into four pages. Of
course I could tell you again how lovely you are and how much I love to see you
smile. Or I could tell you how I look at your photograph sometimes and say "who you
smiling at, gal– you wait for me". But you’d think I was "troppo", so for now I'll keep
those things to myself.
You've got a date with a lad in green, sweetheart – he’s always thinking about it and
hoping it won't be long. Goodbye for this time and God bless. All my love and kisses,
with the trimmings. Ever your loving husband, George.
***
11 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
Dearest Marjorie, Two more days without news from you or home. It's like talking
on a telephone and not getting any answer isn't it? Still, I know you're there waiting
and listening and writing and it won't be long before there’s a fat bundle of letters for
me. Today's plane came and went leaving only a small bag of mail – none at all for us
– so we are eagerly awaiting to see what tomorrow brings forth.
Steady rain fell practically all last night and the area got a good drenching but the sun
is shining now and dragging the moisture back up into the skies ready for a heavy
downpour tonight – I hope.
The mosquitoes, rats and flies are as bad as ever in spite of the rain. We went down to
the strip yesterday evening with the mail and saw dozens of rats on the road – they
seem to enjoy the wet. Caught one in the trap later but they are getting very cunning. I
heard them gnawing a coconut outside and racing around and I thought we'd get a big
haul.
Our cook is the latest on the malaria list – "Bobba” Sidoti (Cec knows him) has taken
his place in the kitchen with Allan Willoughby acting as offsider and they are making
303
an excellent job of it. Trying to disguise bully beef and M&V is not an easy task. This
week a supply of tropical spread (ersatz butter) came in so I'll be able to sandwich that
in between my slices of bread and jam again. Margerine is definately not in my line.
And now that I've said "Hi-ya " little mum, there’s nothing more than "Goodbye" to
say. A big kiss and all my love sweetheart. As always Your, Me.
***
13 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt Clipsham.
Marjorie Darling, Your last letter was dated January 29 – that makes it 15 days of no
news from you. I mean I'm that far behind with the doings. Since writing to you a
couple of days ago nothing of interest has happened so how am I to fill up this space.
The subject on weather is worn out – will pass that over with a brief report that last
night there was a terrific electric storm and this Sunday morning the sun is shining on
a steamy jungle and the flies have been able to take off in spite of the damp
undergrowth.
Our health is fair enough – nothing seriously wrong apart from the monotony of a
prison surrounded by a wall of trees. My itches and dermatitis are still with me and
Pross is battling to get rid of his, too. I think there's been a slight improvement in the
last day or so.
That about clears up the health question.
I wrote to Betty last night and told her the story of the little English boy in America
which I thought was worthwhile repeating – she might have read it to you. Here's
another one along the same lines.
A New York lady who wished to do her bit for England offered to take care of two
boys provided they were not little gentleman. She wanted to do a real job with two
under-privileged children. The authorities took her at her word and sent her two small
rough-necked Cockneys. The first thing they needed was a good bath so the maid
filled the tub and popped one of them into it. Then the American lady instructed the
maid to take away the pile of filthy clothes and burn them. The poor kid in the bath
looked big-eyed at his trembling naked companion and wailed "Blimey, the old bitch
is goin’ to drow’nd us" (from Readers Digest).
Which brings my little jungle-side chat to a close. Once more, sweetheart goodbye
with all my love and a luscious big kiss. Keep the old chin up. Your loving husband,
George.
PS. By the way – hope gas is not rationed. I’ll want a brimming bath of hot water to
make up for all I’ve missed. G.
***
15 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Lt. Dunlop.
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Dearest Marjorie, Two of your letters caught up with me this morning –dated
February 9 and 10 – and that leaves about half a dozen outstanding. Still it’s a change
to be able to say I've heard from you, isn't it. Pleased to know that the parcels arrived
in good order and that the walking stick suited Dad – I thought he would prefer the
dark coloured one. The other could easily be darkened with Condy's crystals and
polished with Kiwi Tan. That’s what I used on the coconut shells too. They aren't bad,
are they? They may not be very elaborate but they are a novelty. I have made a few
other things to send to you but I'm waiting for the Dental unit to come back so that I
can do a bit of polishing on their wheel. And tomorrow I'm posting a few more arrows
to save me carrying them around. Let me know when you get them won’t you?
Unfortunately the bows are too long for parcels post.
I had a letter from Dulce in this mail and she reports the Rogers' wedding in full.
What was Ronnie Roger's wife's name? Margaret somebody or other from the Point –
I don't think I know her, do I? Bruce's second bite at the matrimonial cherry was
rather surprising to me. Dulce refers to him as "poor old" which is beyond my
comprehension. Maybe I'm thick in the dandruff knob!
I saw "Miki" today and he told me he has some grass skirts hidden away somewhere.
Everybody wants one now but I think he will fulfil my order if he is around.
I remember seeing "The Patsy" at the "Criterion" many many years ago and I thought
it was a good show, too. Glad to hear you enjoyed yourself.
How is my little "tootsie-wootsie" getting along – little brat owes me a letter, tell her,
and I'm not going to write until I hear from her. She had better continue with those
physical culture classes and keep in good trim or I won't be taking her down for any
more early morning swims.
I'll probably have some more mail to answer tomorrow sweetheart so I'll finish this
letter here. Be with you in the same place tonight. All my love and kisses, as always,
George.
***
17 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Lt. Dunlop.
My Darling Sweetheart, Everybody got a big "lift" today – three fat bundles of mail
came in. Ten letters for me, one from Harry, an airgraph from Hugh Walker and the
rest from you. I'll send you Hughie's letter next time.
Your letters were written between January 31 and February 8 and numbered 57 to 63.
As I told you in my last letter I have also received 64 and 65, brings my news up to
February 10 which is fair enough, isn't it.
I have a lot to do tonight Sweetheart so I'm not going to write much – as a matter-offact I can't, there’s too much noise around the place. Tomorrow night is reserved for
the correspondents and we are going to boot everyone out then.
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Pross and I are in the pink and longing for a glimpse of the old hometown. We still
haven't any idea when those dreams will come true. I'll let you know as soon as I get
an inkling.
Harry said that Sue is talking a lot about that grass-skirt she asked for but I haven't
been able to get one yet. I hope I won't disappoint her although I didn't actually
promise her one.
Young Bruce is becoming a good businessman from all accounts – tell him I might
want to borrow his grey long-‘uns sometime – especially when he gives me a "knockdown" to that blonde’s sister.
And that's where I want to stop writing, as Kurua says. Love to the folks including Et
and Tony and Mrs Rowse. Be with you this time tomorrow night darling, Ever your
loving husband, George.
PS. Not forgetting a big kiss and hug. G.
***
18 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Lt Dunlop.
My Darling Marjorie, I'm just trying to settle down to get your 22 pages of letters
answered, but my limit tonight will be a few pages, I'm afraid. I can hear the rain
coming in the distance – the noise of the rain falling on the trees can be heard minutes
before it gets here. We should get a good night's sleep out of that, especially as we
have been up since 5 AM.
Sorry to hear about the "blues" on your rest day – I'll fix that up in no time when I get
the chance. You will be a nervous wreck by the time we finish running around the
town.
You'd change your mind about our hut being the tidiest if you'd seen it this morning.
Everything upside down, bits of coconut shell on the floor and paper everywhere.
Somebody swiped our waste paper tin. By the way I've made another "something or
other" from a coconut for you. I thought it might be all right as a sort of float bowl or
if you could get a small cactus plant, would look well outside your bedroom window.
I'll be posting it in a tin with other things tomorrow, I hope.
Your numbering is perfect, darling, and I must say you deserve a medal for keeping
up the almost daily bulletin although I get them all together usually. I hate to have to
tell you again that the earrings are still not complete. Seems like they are my life's
work. The ring is finished so I'll just have to make an extra special effort with earrings
and get the lot away next week.
The appendix operation was a big success and the patient is now on leave. That
should help him to recover extra quickly.
306
I didn't mean that the big fish you nearly caught at Woy Woy was a figment of your
imagination – what I said was that the huge ones always get away and – I'm sticking
to my story about the snake.
Norma and Bruce seem to be copping all the suntan – you and I will be a couple of
lilywhites together. Well we couldn't care less, could we? Main thing is that you are
keeping well and that's all that really matters. A day in the boat will make us as brown
as a couple of well fried eggs.
I think I told you before that I'd seen the "Amazing Mrs Halliday" – glad you enjoyed
it. "Are Husbands Necessary" is a new one to me.
Which reminds me. You remember I mentioned about our small pullet laying eggs.
Well she came to light with nine in all and now we have seven little chickens and a
mother and father. Quite a poultry farm! One egg didn't hatch out and one chick died
but seven kids is enough for any mother to look after isn't it?
Mrs Rowse is very kind to think of me – we'll have to see about paying her a visit
witha bottle under my arm some day. Bill is probably much better off in the airforce –
Mitch seems to think it's better anyway.
And while I'm over in England, I mustn't forget to enclose Hughie’s airgraph letter.
Don't take any notice of his remarks in regard to "yours truly" near the end. Hughie’s
terms of endearment were always rather peculiar. I am sending it merely as a matter
of interest.
I hope Ethel is managing without Tony and that Tony himself will soon be home. My
regards to both when you see them.
Bob Hope's shows are always worth having a look at. So are his radio programmes.
I'm sure there will be many more of them for us to see together.
I haven't forgotten a word of that unwritten letter and you shall hear every word of it
right from "Dear Majgie" right down to "an extra big squeeze" from your adoring
husband – Me.
I can imagine you with paintbrush carefully keeping out the brush marks. My long
suit is Dulux because they don't show. You've more patience than I have for that job.
It sure to be a great success. I notice you are still the same bundle of energy as ever.
Your garden sure is having a rough spin, Mary. I wish you could have some of our
rain to revive it.
Do you think the winter will be a good time for leave – you know how allergic I am to
cold feet. Sister babe, rain, hail or shine, 27 Collingwood Street would be heaven to
me just now. I can almost hear the little clock ticking away the minutes on the shelf.
Perhaps you won't mind me devoting a few minutes of my leave to Sugar-pie– one
wet Sunday morning, like we usta, eh?
Mother never fails the kids with a birthday cake, does she. Beats me how she finds the
time to do so much cooking.
307
I can't give you any indication what will happen after leave because I don't know. Nor
does anyone else. My main concern is to get leave – what follows is in the hands of
fate.
If you could take a plane to NG I wouldn't want you to, darling. All its glamour (if
any) is lost on me. I don't want to see the place again as long as I live. The risk of
getting malaria alone would stop me from visiting it after the war. I'd rather take a trip
to Hawaii or somewhere like that –even a trip to the Hawkesbury would have more
appeal.
A couple of nights ago the Kukus paid a visit to one of the camps and pinched a few
blankets etc but I don't think we'll have to worry about them much longer. The little
beggars have to be watched and a rifle or Tommy gun keeps them from getting out of
hand. They are cannibals but as far as I know they haven't eaten that kind of Kai for
some time.
I have asked one of the Papuan boys to make me a small lakatoi for the mantelpiece
and it should be ready on Sunday. Unless it's a good one I won't buy it. The Yule
Island natives are more artistic but unfortunately there aren't many of them around
here now. However this boy does a pretty good job I'm told, so it should be O.K.
Bet you looked like a wealthy youngster strolling into the "Theatre Royal" in your
slashing black frock and little toque – you sure must let me see you in that rigout
when I come home.
Well twelve pages isn't a bad effort for the night, is it, so I'll finish here and start a
blitz on the mozzies.
All my love and kisses dearest girl in the world and an extra special hug as a
Valentine".
Ever your own, Me.
***
20 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Lt Dunlop.
My Darling Marjorie, I'm glad to hear that all my letters reached you on washing day
and cheered you up a bit. I know how boring it is wringing out the old clothes – you’ll
be set for an electric wringer at least, after the war.
Last night we got on the fermented fruit juices again and had a good sing-song for a
couple of hours. Back at camp, the floor came up and bit me in the mouth. Not that I
had the staggers but loose floorboards were to blame. However I didn't hurt myself
and was able to get an excellent nights sleep in spite of the swarms of rats.
I shall deem it a great pleasure to retire to the lounge with you and have a sherry with
the trimmings. We used to have some great times in the old "Nortoft" days, didn't we.
Remember the night we were enjoying ourselves and somebody came around to see
308
us – we hid everything and were sitting up like Jacky when they came in. As a matter
of fact that happened a couple of times and the visitors weren’t any the wiser, I think.
Dulce was always keen on me taking her over to do a bit of sampling, wasn't she?
I believe that Mitch will have to serve at least three years before they'll send him back
– that means another six months or so. He doesn't seem to hold out much hope of
getting home for some time though.
This afternoon we played cricket on the air-strip – play was held up until the plane got
away but we managed to win the toss eventually and sent the other team in to bat.
Their two opening bats were out for horses collars and the lot were back in the
pavilion for 49. Pross and I had a few wickets each to our credit and the position
seemed be very rosy. Then our team donned the pads but alas were able to rake up
only 23 and they set us in again. The second time we did much better and when rain
stopped play we had 30 up on the board for a loss of three wickets – yours truly being
7 not out. My hits were blind swipes and I happened to connect a couple of times.
All of which must be exceedingly dull to you but that's what we did today.
I sent a couple of parcels of odds and ends to you yesterday – one contained arrows
only. I want them to distribute with the three bows when I come home – I have three
of them now. The other things are of no use to me here and I didn't want to cart them
about any longer. Incidentally, you’d better be careful if you put water in the coconut
shell – it might leak at the bottom and I couldn't block the whole in the face part.
Perhaps a cork and a rubber washer will make it water-tight. Anyhow if it's not
successful I'll buy you a small cactus plant and you can stand it out on the window
near my big tall pines which Dulce envies so much.
Well that's about all I can think of tonight, sweetheart and I'm afraid it's not very
interesting. Little lady in pink I’ll be with you when I hit the hay. I hope so anyway.
With all my love and kisses and an extra special hug because it's the valentine season.
Always your own, George.
***
21 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, but no censor’s signature.
My Darling Marjorie, This is just a quick little note to say "hello" once again. I may
not get a chance to write for a couple of days and I don't want you to miss out for too
long.
I'm fairly stiff after Sunday's cricket and will be glad to get to bed after a busy day
running around.
I didn't receive a letter from you this morning – didn’t expect one really as I have
been doing very well lately. Pross was the only lucky one and his was in the form of a
packet. He has just asked me to get you to tell Mother that the fountain pen arrived in
good order and he is very satisfied with it.
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How are you feeling for the transfusion on Wednesday. I hope you were able to get a
partner to look after you. I'll be thinking of you darling and wondering how you are
getting along. Don't forget to let me know all about it, will you? Look after yourself ,
darling, and don't overdo it.
Good night Sweetheart – be seeing you in the same place. Love, George
PS. The three little words are as good as ever. G.
***
23 February 1944. . On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt. Clipsham. [This appears to be the first letter
written from Wau, to which George Seagrove’s section of the 9th FA was deployed
after Bulldog. Likeman at 107 gives an account of the closure of the Bulldog ADS on
17 February 1944; “ and the team moved up to Wau. By now there was road access
from Lae to Wau and the Bulldog Track was redundant”]
My Darling Marjorie, This afternoon I spent in a lovely pool of cool water – we’re
having a few days rest to give us a chance to get rid of our ailments (if any). The
climate here is very much like that of the Queens and tablelands – warm days and
cold nights. Last night I snuggled under three blankets and had a wonder sleep which
is a terrific change.
Pross isn't with me at present but he'll be around shortly. Tell Mother he's well and so
am I. The cool weather has made my hands sore again – hoping the rash will clear up
quickly now.
I didn't think it would be possible for me to write today but things turned out much
better than I expected. I've been thinking of you this afternoon and wondering how
you are after the donation of blood. Let me know how it went wont you? I know it
doesn't worry you much, only you’ve been such a regular donor that I am wondering
how it's effecting you – you should take it easy for a few weeks and not do any heavy
work, darling.
There was a letter from you waiting for me last night. It was the one you wrote on
February 11 and I had already received two later ones which brought my home news
up to February 13.
Wally Pyne has just walked into this hut full of beans – Wal’s a sergeant now and
doing a "Q" store job. Strange job for a chemist, isn't it but he seems to be quite happy
about it – for the time being anyway. [ Reference is to Cpl. H. W. Pyne (Wally),
NX152441, a pharmacist.]
The lights not too good, sweetheart so I'll finish here. Keep the old chin up and your
fingers crossed. Until my next, ‘bye ‘ bye with all my love and kisses. As ever,
George.
***
310
24 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt. Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, For once I must hand a bouquet to the army PO for bringing
me three of your lovely letters to me so quickly. They are 69, 70 and 71 – the last
dated February 17. In the same lot were one from Mitch, one from Bet and another
from my little sort in Queensland who by the way is being wiped from now on as I
can't be bothered stringing her along any longer. I've decided to cut my mailing list in
half and concentrate my efforts.
I must have miscalculated the day for your blood donation as I thought it was to take
place yesterday. Anyhow I'm happy to know you turned out trumps again – you
certainly are a little champ. I liked the part in your letter where you said you were
going to ask them to hurry you through so that you could keep an appointment with
Doug and Dulce. Doug is lucky to have the opportunity to take a couple of good
looking girls to a show. You can count on me to help you to give them a night out
when I come home. I think I owe Dulce a letter – must write this week. I churn them
out whenever possible and have often forgotten who is due for one until the returns
come in.
I read the controversy over the Archibald prize in Guinea Gold and evidently there is
some justification for the uproar. I bet that guy Dobell could sit on the edge of a treybit these days.
By the way I forgot to mention the position with the coconut shells for Norm. The
nuts are scarce in these parts and I think she'll be out of luck. It's a pity I didn't know
that they made a hit as it would have been an easy matter for me to have made another
pair. I thought they might have been chucked on the rubbish heap. However if I do
happen to find some more I will certainly get to work on them straight away.
Souvenirs are hard to get otherwise I would send everyone something.
Today I've been out on a site seeing tour – and what a sight. Can't say much at present
but as time goes on you will hear about it. Fruit grows here in profusion – plenty of
bananas and pawpaws and the fresh vegetables should go a long way in building up
the body. The food is much better too.
Have to leave the rest of your letters until next time darling as it's almost "Lights out".
You’re a sweetheart in a million and that smile is worth a billion so keep it up.
All my love and kisses and an extra big hug to my number one lady. As always your,
Me.
PS. Will send Mitch's letter when I answered it. G.
***
26 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Capt. Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, I have just finished a feed of bananas and paw-paws – it's a big
change to get fresh fruit and as much as we can eat of it. I'm feeling quite chilly
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tonight, too. That three deck blanket bay will go well after lights out. I've had three
lovely nights of sleep without interruption except for the crowing of our rooster on
Wednesday. He let go at the top of his voice somewhere about 5 o'clock – must have
forgotten that we’re resting. The hen and seven small chicks are with us and are
thriving in this climate. It's an ideal place for a poultry farm so we're hoping the
chicks turn out to be girls.
I received the usual bulletin from the office but there was no mention of Kim
Patterson in it. Naturally his parents would be anxious as they haven't heard from him
but I should think that often there would be long breaks in his correspondence when
he’s at sea.
About the four walls and the wide open spaces, I'm afraid the call of the great
outdoors will leave me unmoved after the war. I'll be quite content to sit by the fire in
a pair of slippers and spend my holidays at a good hotel where one doesn't have to
share his tucker with the insects.
Norm seems to have a disgusting amount of energy for those physical culture classes
– why don't you make her get onto the end of the lawnmower on the morning before
she goes to the office. Still I suppose you’re both better with a little organised
exercise. Personally I'd prefer a day at the beach.
Pross isn't with me yet and I haven't heard from him. Don't expect to hear from him
until I see him, which may be next week. I suppose he will write to Mother and let her
know how he is faring.
And that's about all the chatter there is for tonight, sweetheart. I’ll say goodbye for
this time. Your love, kisses and extra special received. Mine are all for you, too,
darling.
Ever your loving husband,
me
PS. Love to Mom, Pop, Norm and all. G.
***
28 February 1944. On quarto sized ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number,
rank name and unit, censored by Major P. G. Heffernan, NX 102249.
Marjorie Darling, I received three of your letters yesterday which bring news from
home up to February 21. In number 72, February 18 you are waiting for a letter from
me and it looks as if you have struck the lean period I told you to expect. However
they'll all turn up in due course – I've written every second day without fail and
sometimes more frequently.
I'm feeling very well tonight and I've been getting a little bit of sun-tan – not much
though, because the weather [page missing].
I just had to break off a few minutes to listen to Dotty Lamour singing "I'm in the
mood for Love". Unfortunately the reception wasn't any good but I glued my ear to
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the speaker and got it. I don't know the name of the show but probably it was an old
Command Performance.
Tell Bet to pull her head in – I owe her only one letter not two. She'll be hearing from
me soon. That brat must be a wonder child – hope she's over the "christening" stage
by the time I nurse her.
I'm very proud of my champion little blood donor, sweetheart and I'm happy to know
that you're feeling well after the last visit to the hospital.
Didn't know Gordon Clubbe was in Sydney. Pross will be interested in that news. He's
not with me yet and I've sent a letter from home on to him. Two parcels for him are
reposing under my stretcher also three bundles of papers from a lady friend. I suppose
the parcels are from Mother so you can mention they've arrived – apparently in good
order. Pross will let her know when he opens them.
Sorry to hear that Bruce's crew weren’t first past the post after all the effort he put
into it. He had better start getting a few early nights.
I'd love to be able to give you a hand with the garden again, darling and I haven't
forgotten the lavender walk with the fountain at the end of it. There are a few flowers
and flowering scrubs around here and I imagine it would have been a picturesque site
in pre-war times. The soil is very fertile and would grow almost anything. The climate
is ideal for health and not at all like tropical New Guinea. It's a pleasure to get away
from the tall trees the surface roots and big vines. Of course they are not far away but
viewing them from a distance is much better.
Under the shower I shiver – should be able to get in trim for Sydney's chilly water.
I'll have to leave the question of patients until I see you dear. Will talk you to sleep
every night. In the meantime keep the old song in your heart. With a big hug and kiss
and all my love, As always your, Me PS. Mitchell's letter is enclosed. G.
***
March 1944.
Wau: Bulolo track roadwork, George’s dermatitis, Pross’s dengue fever,
cricket distractions, rings and ear-rings..
1 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental number
unit, censored by Captain Clipsham.
Dearest Marjorie, I'm almost freezing and it's only about 7:30 PM – a little time ago I
would have been soaking wet with perspiration and bashing mosquitoes. Here life is
very different in many ways – more comfortable perhaps but not much opportunity of
seeing anything interesting. A week's rest and now I want to get on the move.
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There's no mail today and I'm hoping for about a dozen tomorrow, otherwise I'll be
absolutely stonkered for something to write about.
How are you feeling tonight, darling? That is what is always foremost in my mind – it
will be wonderful when we are together again for good, won’t it? Then we won’t have
to sit down and struggle with a pen trying to tell each other what we are thinking and
dreaming.
At the moment there's a cove sitting on the table in front of me talking about
Katoomba and the Hydro. It started when someone asked if I'd ever take on hiking
after the war. I remembered the lovely time we had at Leura and the long walk up and
down the steps to Echo Point. And how we walked around the rocks at Kurnell and
the long trudge from Artarmon one Sunday. But since then I've lost all interest in
travelling around that way and the open spaces will have to call a long time before I
answer. Maybe I'm getting to the stage when the fireside has more appeal. When we
take our holidays we will go in a comfortable car or a good boat and enjoy the
luxuries of a modern hotel. No more sharing with the ants or eating sandwiches
sprinkled with sand for me. That's how I feel about it at the moment anyway
We had a taste of the right way of doing things when we toured the south in the 8/40
didn't we? I'm thinking of the "Headlands" October 14, 1939 and how we enjoyed
ourselves. Those happy days will be here again soon but in the meantime we've just
got to live on memories, darling. I'll make sure that the days to come will be your
happiest so you can look forward to them.
Now sweetheart, I'm going to roost in the big hut with a straw roof. Meet you in the
same place. With an extra special big kiss and hug and all my love. As always your,
Me PS. Address "HQ Company" until you hear further. Love, George.
***
3 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental number
unit, censored by Capt John Wright.
Dear Maggie, I have just seen an extra-ordinary performance. A number of parcels
(delayed Christmas mail)came in and among them one containing a bottle of red
looking stuff. It might have been vinegar or perhaps sauce, anyhow it was decided to
open her up and find out. There were 16 official tasters present – the first guy said it
was too sweet for vinegar, and the second reckoned it wasn't sauce and so the bottle
went back and forth across the little group standing around, each taking as much as
possible in one suck. After three minutes the bottle was empty and everyone agreed
that it was wine. I've never seen such perfect coordination in sharing anything in all
my life.
There wasn't any mail again today so I'm scratching around for words. I've been doing
a bit of painting and carting stones for a road. Hard-work is not nearly so tiring in this
climate and as a matter of fact, I don’t mind it at all.
Last night the officers put on a card night for the boys. We played progressive
"Troppo" it was called, butwas really another name for "Liz's" famous "Switch". I
finished up getting a prize of a tin of dusting powder. Everyone had to wear a tie and
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a weird and wonderful assortment came to light. Made from handkerchiefs, bandages
and paper, cardboard etc. Bow-ties, Broadway-ties spotted and striped with red,
cravats, all sorts. After the party the cook served tea and sausage rolls. It was a good
night and a change from the usual routine. There’s some talk of a concert in the next
few weeks but nobody seems to be anxious to undertake the organizing of it. There is
a lot of work attached to those sort of things.
How are you getting along these days darling? Are you managing alright with your
pay? I often think of those things although I don't mention them because I know that
you would tell me if you wanted anything. You know you can open up the old oak
chest any time you like, don't you?
Pross has written to me but I suppose Mother has heard from him. Another lot of
papers for him came this afternoon – his girlfriend from Five Dock seems to be very
keen by the look of things.
Nothing exciting or very interesting to write dear, so I’ll toddle off to the hay. Maybe
there’ll be a gal in pink waiting for me. In any case I’ll be thinking about her. Give
Mum, Dad and Norm kiss from me and tell them to go easy on the sugar. All my love,
sweetheart wife and a big hug. Your loving husband, George.
PS. One of our little chicks kicked the bucket today and now there are six. G.
***
5 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental number
unit, censored by Captain Clipsham.
My Darling Marjorie, I can see that I'm going to be in a bit of strife with this shaky
table before I'm through. It's a chippendale model made from a box. However the
quietness of this hut is preferable to the rowdy mess hut where the boys are playing
cards or listening to the radio.
This is the eighth day since I last heard from you and according to reports no mail has
gone out so you will have had a lean period too.
Another parcel for Pross arrived yesterday and is now under my bed with the rest. It
looks like a cake from the outside and there's no address or name of the sender on it.
Perhaps it's from Flo or another of his flames. I'm just mentioning this as Pross isn't
here and Mother has probably sent him some stuff. We’ve both written and said not to
pack any more parcels for awhile as they take even longer to reach us now.
Your Christmas issues of Women's Weekly, World News etc came yesterday and I
also received copies of Smith's up to the end of January. The office subscribes for me,
I believe. That about clears up my acknowledgements.
Believe it or not I finished the ear-rings for you today. They'll be going to you as soon
as I can pack them. Although they have been my life's work they aren't the sort you
buy at Hardy's but they are made with my own little pink hands as a memento and
that makes them priceless. Anyhow I hope they fit and you like them.
All my rashes and itches have cleared up completely and apart from a sniffle I'm
feeling good.
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We have another gramophone that limps but they have managed to sort out bits and
pieces from the two to make something that plays records. At the moment it's getting
a bashing from the old detachment. Well it helps to pass the time away anyhow.
There is a date I've got with an angel tonight sweetheart so I'd better get dressed up to
go dreaming. All my fondest love and a big hug from, Your Austinmer mate, Me.
***
7 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental number
unit, censored by illegible.
Dearest Marjorie, Here I am again with no letters to answer – and you'll have had
that complaint to, as far as I can make out. No need to worry or imagine anything is
wrong in these long silences – the delay just can't be helped.
I am feeling fine and having a fairly easy time. A bit of road-making and work on the
truck and occasionally a game of circlos which is all very good for the body. The
weather is mild but we haven't seen much sun for a week or so. It rains slightly nearly
every night and gets cold enough to make bed a desirable place. The mosquitoes don't
bother me at all and the net is hardly necessary, although the order is that they must
be used. It's a pleasure to be able to sit down and write and not be tortured with
buzzing and biting. So far I've had none of the symptoms of malaria so presume that
the mozzies were unsuccessful in their attack on me.
Had a game of Bridge last night and finished up square after three long hours of it.
That still leaves me about fifteen bob in the red but it will come back to Poppa,
eventually. The rowdy mess hut makes it a bit hard to concentrate and Bob Hope's
shows are slightly distracting. That's the excuse anyway.
Pross hasn't reached here yet – he's been delayed longer than I thought he would be.
Probably his mail is getting through and Mother has heard from him but in case she
hasn't you can tell her that he’s O.K., I'm sure or it would have been signalled through
to HQ. Mother is likely to get anxious if she doesn't get a letter and Pross isn't such a
regular correspondent as yours forever. He says there's nothing to write about and
leaves it at that – I know that even a page of chatter is better than nothing at all so just
keep scribbling away.
How are things down in our part of the world? Are you still digging in your victory
garden, darling. By now you should be about to harvest, shouldn't you? Keep my old
drinking partner Pop on the end of the trowel and that gorgeous little bathroom
nightingale – put her behind the lawnmower and tell her I want to see plenty of curves
when I come home on leave. Shouldn't have mentioned leave – I'll be incurring the
censor's wrath.
In an old copy of the S M Herald that was wrapped around somebody's parcel I read
how Sid Lippman (spelling?) has to row a mile and a quarter to work every morning
and back again at night because he can't get petrol for his launch. Poor old Sid – he
should get the lowdown from Ray or become an air-raid warden. Perhaps Doris won't
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let him take on the "stirrup pump and wooden shovel" job because he doesn't play a
good game of poker, eh?
You'll have to pardon me now sweetheart, I have to put out the milk can and lock the
back door and see that everyone is in bed. So until next time, good night dearest girl,
all my prayers and true love are for you. Kisses and an extra special hug, as ever your,
Me.
***
9 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental
number unit censored by Unit’s C.O. Lt. Col. R.V (Reg.) Bretherton NX
115375
Dearest Sweetheart, Yesterday I was up in the clouds because there were
five letters from you and today I'm high enough to jump over the moon with
another four to answer. Twenty three pages of the best cheer-ups I can get.
Gosh it must be costing you a fortune in stamps. One stamp by the way
wasn't postmarked which means 4d. more to be added to my ever mounting
leave pay. Must be the start of a lucky run for me – last night I won three and
sixpence at Bridge and in this mail I received a five-bob canteen order from
the Drummoyne Patriotic Fund.
Pross has eight letters waiting for him, too – he should have been here by
now but evidently he's been delayed so I'll send them on to him.
Now I'll go through your Feb.22 "quickie" and work down to March 3 – the
lastest one.
You want a first hand report on the thinning thatch above my eyebrows – well
she’s not too bad, darling. Not up to the stage of "Don't let this happen to you",
yet but I'm afraid there's less there than there was 15 months ago. At the
present rate of increase in the height of my forehead, I estimate that you'll be
able to fulfil your desire to run your fingers through my coiffeur (check that
spelling) provided the war doesn't last more than 100 years and that leave is
granted within a reasonable time. How about that as grounds for
compassionate leave – weaker appeals have been successful.
"Capt Cookie" is OK once again and has returned to his former job of chief tin
opener. Vince doesn't like being told where he can put his M &V.
It won't be long now before Sydney is in the throes of winter and you'll be
getting into your woollies. You'll need that warm suit and a new topcoat –
there's to be no argument about it austerity notwithstanding. And of course,
you'll want a trim little chapeau to top off the seasonal hair-do. These are
orders from your one-hooker in green.
Apropos your sister's remarks re my entertainment – my answer is "give me
three lovely blondes headed by my dream girl and I'm next door to heaven".
You can tell Betty that with my x-ray eyes I can see that she is smoking too
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much and if she doesn't cut it out she'll get the dust thrashed out of her
breeches. No foolin’ Bet, it's definately bad for your health at such a stage.
Dulce must have received a letter from me thanking her for Yuletide greetings
– one thing good about me is my regular correspondence to all and sundry. In
future, I'm cutting down the mailing list though – that doesn't mean my nearest
and dearest will miss out.
The perspex bangle was made for you originally but I thought it would be too
small for your wrist and also Norm's. I could make another one if she would
like it but there are much more ambitious plans in mind. I'll settle down to
something really worthwhile for her box and your's too.
The little touches in your letters about such inconsequential things as cold feet,
take me back to those lovely times we always had wherever we were, darling.
Sometimes it all seems like a beautiful dream which leaves one with a
heartache. If I had my life over I wouldn't want it to be one bit different and we
have lived only a part of this perfect happiness. There is much in store for us.
Poor old Tony is having a rough spin – hope by this he’s back on the road to
health and that Auntie Ethel is well. Give them both my love when you see
them.
Darling, when you go to the hospital, always take someone with you, won't
you? Even in normal times that part of the world is full of undesirables and I
would be very anxious if I thought you were trotting up there alone.
Hughie's Saturday at Nortoft seems to be deeply embedded in your mind
sweetheart but I'm sure the two naughty boys realise that they were entirely in
the wrong and are waiting for a chance to redeem themselves. The "Beryl"
referred to in Hugh's letter is the flaxen-haired barmaid who was wont to pull
our beers at the tavern in Margaret Street. Possibly the admiral was conjuring
up thoughts of me taking a quick sip after a strenuous day guarding the
environs of the old hometown.
Time is crawling on sweetheart and I'll have to finish on this page with still
three letters to answer.
I must mention your call-up. Your anti-climax had me all pins and needles and
I was almost tempted to read the end of the story first. I got the feel of your
emotions and went through the whole thing with you. Anyhow more about it
later.
Goodbye for this time dearest wife – keep that happy little face tilted up as
usual and whistle the blues away until I can do it for you.
All my love and extra special hugs and kisses. Your husband, Me.
PS. It's always you. G.
***
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11 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental
number unit, censored by major P G Heffernan, (Rick), N X1022 49.
Dearest Sweetheart, I think I had to cut my last letter off short because it was
getting late and I had just reached the part in your letters telling me of yours
and Julie's call-up. The feeling of a stranger delving into your private affairs is
not a very pleasant one and I know how you reacted to the thought of being
pushed around in jam factories or something else. Especially when you were
doing more than a fair share keeping a home together. It's just as well that
manpower bloke treated you the right way else I would have paid him a visit
on my leave – or got Pat to give them a verbal kick in the pants. Any time you
want sound advice you can go to G. H and you'll find that he'll welcome you.
He's one of the leading lights of the Australian Red Cross, you know, and a
very good friend to me.
That blasted dermatitis has broken out on my hand again. Saw the Major this
morning and he's given me a simple treatment which he thinks will clean it up.
It's not a bad case but I hate skin rashes of any kind. One unfortunate beggar
has it all over his body and is painted up like a white zombie.
Yesterday Pross came in looking at not very bright. He had been pulled out of
his sick bed to be evacuated back to hospital. I wrote to Mother last night and
told her all about it but I had to use a a green envelope as I missed the
censoring so she may not have heard yet. Pross has Dengue and he’s
probably over the crisis as the rash has broken out on his body. He has a
headache and that heavy feeling but otherwise feels all right. Tell Mother
there’s nothing for her to worry about – I wouldn't hold anything back. In any
case Pross will be writing to her himself, shortly...
Sunday Morning! March 12.
I had settled down to an afternoon of writing yesterday but a call came and I
had to drop everything. A three-tonner went over the side up in the range and
the driver couldn't "Dunkirk" it. The truck rolled down a steep gorge about four
or five hundred feet so you can imagine what state the patient was in. How he
got out of it alive is a miracle. Fractured his collarbone, ribs and probably his
shoulder and got some bad cuts on his head. He was conscious all the time
and in great pain when we got there but he settled down after a shot of
morphia. The boss bandaged him and made him comfortable then we started
back on our four hour ride stopping every few miles to give the patient a spell
or more morphia. The road is about the worst I've ever travelled on, just a
ledge cut out of the side of the mountains – make you giddy looking over the
side. However we arrived at the hospital at 9.30 without any further mishaps
and they put him on the operating table immediately. He should be okay in a
couple of months or so. The fuzzy – wuzzies came to light again in carrying
him out of the gorge in a roughly constructed jungle stretcher. Took them two
hours but our coves would have taken much longer – if they could have done
it at all.
Pross is much better today and will be out of hospital tomorrow I think. He will
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have a week off to recover, probably.
Well, to get back to your letters (there’s half a dozen blokes around the
gramophone making things a bit difficult). No. 85 arrived on Friday and 86
yesterday which leaves me with nothing to moan about.
I saw "First of the Few" and thought it a fair show. Poorly handled from a
dramatic point of view, in my opinion. The Yanks would have made that the
greatest film of all time if Mitchell had been an American.
You can count me in on a visit to Carroll – provided old Jack puts on a fivegallon keg or some champagne. Their home must be very beautiful from your
account of it – hope you got some good ideas on the layout.
At present our nasal voiced allies are definitely on the outer with me – every
paper I've seen recently has an account of some offence committed by a
Yank. So it strikes me that the mob around Sydney are a pretty low lot.
Mac wrote me about Del Beache's sister marrying an American soldier. The
rotten little so-and-so was engaged to an Australian lad who is a prisoner of
war from Singapore. Isn't that lovely? After this war there are going to be a lot
of girls who thought they'd married film stars only to find that they'd have
"Hamburger Joe" for a husband if he hadn't gone through.
A couple of days ago I sent you the earrings and a ring made from an N. G.
shilling – registered post. Another parcel contains a grass skirt. Keep it until I
come home will you darling. I may have to cut it down for Sue – that’s if
there's no smaller one available. Better not say anything about it for awhile.
There’s a pile of washing for me to do and I'm feeling a bit tired , dear – wish I
had mother's washing machine here. Must get to it though, so goodbye for the
present. Will write again tomorrow. Love to the family and tell Bruce he can
take Auntie Cissy's kiss for me.
As always your, Me.
PS. Not forgetting my love and kisses to you sweetheart.
***
14 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental
number unit censored by Unit’s C.O. Lt. Col. R.V (Reg.) Bretherton NX
115375
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Dearest Marjorie, Tea is over and I'm getting an early start with your letter. The
weather has been almost perfect today and this place is certainly beautiful when the
sun is shining from a scenic point of view I mean. In the morning the clouds are
below the crest of the hills and in the distance the kunai grass looks like a green
pasture. We’re camped on the side of a hill overlooking everything. All around are
small fast flowing creeks which at times become raging torrents. From where I'm
sitting I can see a coffee plantation and banana trees scattered about and paw-paws
heavily laden with fruit. Paw-paws are getting a bit tiresome – they are so plentiful.
Haven't seen many pineapples – I think they must be out of season.
A couple of Sundays ago four of us went up to a big plantation about 14 miles away.
The pine plants are laid out in long rows and the grass has overgrown the whole place
so it took us a long time to find our two undersized pineapples. However I made a
note of the location for future reference – the oranges mandarins etc should be ripe
enough to pick in a week or two.
There was a concert in the area last night and a lot of our coves when along – Pross
and myself included. Not a bad show for their first effort and no rehearsals. They
managed to rake up an old piano, two mouth organs, a set of drums and an improvised
guitar made from a biscuit tin. It's surprising the talent that can be found at short
notice. One of the pianists used to be with 2UE and of course is an excellent
accompanist. Soon after the show began the rains came and there was a rush for the
tin shed which was the stage. The artist's continued in the very limited space and then
the lights failed. While they were being fixed, jeep headlamps served as the footlights.
The compere wanted to postpone the concert but the audience insisted that it should
proceed, rain or no rain. The boys are hungry for entertainment of any sort and every
artist was a howling success. We piled into a truck to get back to the MDS only to
find that it had no lights. Eventually we grabbed a three tonner and made enough
noise to rouse the driver from his bed after much cussing.
Pross was discharged from hospital yesterday and is feeling okay once again. The
cool climate and open country will do him the world of good in a short time. He’s
writing to Mother tonight so she’ll hear all about it from him.
Bob Hope's show is on tonight and I'm going over to the mess to hear it in a minute as
there's nothing more to say, dear.
Be with you in the same old place after lights out. God bless you darling girl and look
after you. All my love and kisses with an extra special hug. As always your, Me.
PS Hope you're in the pink and not knocking yourself out with the lawnmower.
***
16 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental
number unit censored by signature illegible.
My Dearest Marjorie, The day is like the ones you get in Leura – started off by being
cold early, then a real spring morning and now at lunchtime it's hot. But I still like
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Leura best. I'm writing at this time because there's a debate tonight on the "White
Australia" policy and there won't be much chance of writing then.
Pross is sitting opposite me sewing on buttons or something – he’s looking pretty fit
again after his few days in hospital. I'm okay too.
Yesterday I bought a beautiful little lakatoi, just the thing for an ornament. The next
move is to packet it securely, to go through the post. I'll have to make a small wooden
box so it will be a couple of days before it will be posted to you. There may be other
"junk" in it too. Haven't heard from you for several days and don't know whether or
not you have received all the parcels I've sent.
I told you that "Mackie" wrote the other day didn't I. I forgot to mention that she said
Trevor is now First Lt. of his ship. Bill Farnsworth sneered "First Lieutenant of what?
A torpedo boat" and Mackie comments "Isn't he a catty thing?". The old Trev will
have a bit of priority treatment next time he comes into the office, I bet. By the way,
Mac hopes your keeping well-- she hasn't seen or heard from you since way back.
That's all I can scratch up for this time sweetheart. It's really the usual quickie to say
"Hello! How's tricks?". No further news to give you so g’bye now. All my love and
kisses. Your husband, George.
***
18 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental
number unit, no censor’s signature.
Dearest Marjorie, I've been out all day and have been seeing a lot of new country. It's
very much like the far south coast in many ways but a bit more rugged. And there
aren't bananas paw-paws etc on the south coast. We came back with a trailer full –
although most of the paw-paws were so badly bruised they had to be thrown away.
These fruits in such quantity, would be worth a fortune in Sydney at the present time I
suppose and here am I just chucking them away – wish I could send you some.
Cecil's birthday today – remembered it when I started this letter. If you see him, wish
him a happy birthday for me and tell him Pross is O.K.. Pross often talks about the
whoopee he’s going to have with Cec when he gets home on leave.
Seeing there’s not much else to write about I’ll let you in on the secret of Norma's
souvenir. After scrounging around I got hold of some spent shells and am now in the
process of turning them into a model aeroplane – the Lightning. They are the fast
fighters with twin fuselage– you'll know the type. As a matter of fact I have two of
them in production – the second one is for you. The idea is to have the completed
articles chromium plated and use them as ornaments or ashtrays. Of course the plating
will have to be done in Sydney. If possible I will get bases of larger shells for the
trays. Otherwise I'll have to get hold of a substitute when I come home. Well, that
helped to make a little conversation with you, didn't it? Anyhow, the jobs should be
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finished next week and will go in the parcel mentioned in my last letter and I hope
you'll like 'em. Don't forget I'm no machinist and the work is done with a blunt hacksaw blade and file – so it isn't like exactly precision work.
By this time you'll probably have received the ear-rings and stone ring. Did you like
them? Also the tin containing the grass skirt should be nearing its destination – let me
know when and in what condition they arrive won’t you?
Last night I had a dream and there you were, dressed in pink, standing with the light
cord in your hand, just like I’ve seen you a thousand times. You had that piece of silk
tied around your head too. Any minute I expected to feel your cold feet – that job of
acting as a water-bottle would do me right now. It's Saturday night and here I am
bored stiff with everything – and where are you. Most likely at the pictures – or is Liz
letting you look after the kids?
Your letter of March 7 came yesterday but its down in the hut and I'm "orderly
corporal" tonight. That means I sleep in the orderly room and do all the running
around, seeing all lights are put out etc.
That’s all for now dearest sweetheart so g’bye. An extra special you know what kind
of hug and kiss with all my love. Husband George
PS. Dear little wife – you're the biggest thing in my life and I love you more and more
every day. G.
***
20 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental
number censored by Capt Clipsham.
Sweetheart, I received a letter from you in this morning's mail – number 91 date
12/3/44. That means there are four floating around somewhere as the previous one
was numbered 87. You’ll be going through a lean period too because no mail has
been going out either. However nothing of national importance has happened to me so
you needn't worry.
How is Tony? Has he recovered from the operation yet? Ethel must be anxious about
him and I suppose you have been keeping her company while he is in the hospital.
You tell Liz to lay off that "afternoon in town" stuff and leaving the kids for you to
look after. She's got a start preparing for me and that's no way of putting on condition.
The Rowing Club dances are a bit "corny" aren't they? You are like me – you prefer
first-class entertainment at a picture show and it's cheaper. ‘member the time we went
to the RC Saturday night show and walked out an hour or so later with a few dozen
ice creams feeling convinced that we had received our money's worth. Better not tell
Bruce I said the Club is "corny" – he might be offended. Norma too– she'd be hostess
no doubt.
In this latest letter you haven't heard from me for ten days – I've written every second
day without fail so they'll come along eventually. It's really waste of postage to send
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letters when there aren't any 'planes coming in but I know how lovely it is to get a big
bundle even if they are old ones.
Pross received a letter from Cec today– haven't read it yet. As a matter of fact he often
forgets to let me read them and I'm lost for anything to comment on when Mother's
regular weekly letter is being scratched up. They must be super optimists at home
expecting us to walk in any moment – there won't be cut in communications when
that time comes. We have been instructed not to mention leave in letters – the reason
being obvious?? – So I can't tell you any more. I noticed you spotted Mr Forde's
statement that New Guinea soldiers were to have all the leave due to them instead of
the maximum of 24 days at a time. Whacko! That will probably apply to Bill too.
Frank Starr came back today and he’s looking pretty poor on it. The heat and
mosquitoes drag one's health down but the boredom of being cut off from everything
is the worst feature of those outlandish places.
There aren't any picture shows in this area – so the various units try to cheer the boys
up with a concert occasionally – next Sunday night is the date for the next one. A
sports committee is being formed too and we’ll be entering teams for tennis cricket
football and athletic events – probably there’ll be an inter-unit sports day during the
week. Should brighten things up a bit.
Be with you in thoughts at the same time tonight – Darling – will think about Mum's
instruction to lock the middle door. Give my love to her and Dad and Norm. Kisses
and hugs from, Your, Me.
***
22 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental
number unit censored by Capt Wright.
Dearest Sweetheart, When the plane flew over this morning a big cheer went up from
the mail-starved boys and I bet the same thing happened in all the camps in this area.
Your three letters reported missing in my last note were aboard.
You seem to be very concerned about Uncle Tony and Mother also mentioned that he
was very low. I didn't realise before that his condition was so serious and was
wondering why Auntie Ethel was upsetting herself. I hope by this time he is out of
danger – it's a great help if he's got the heart to battle it but some people give up easily
and ruin their chances of getting over the crisis. We had one cove in hospital who
chucked the sponge in for no reason at all and he was the worst patient we’ve ever
had. He would have cashed his cheque for certain had he been seriously ill. Poor old
Tony always makes light of his ailments, doesn't he?
Well, darling I'm back to your March 7-8 letter and at that time you were waiting to
hear from me to break a long silence. My previous letters told you to expect that and
I'm afraid the mails are going to be irregular for quite awhile. However, you can count
on me to keep on writing in spite of everything.
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Don't send in your photographs dear – they may go astray. I'd love to have a look at
them but they will be all the nicer for waiting and I may be able to compare them with
the original before very long – who knows? You can tell me how they turned out
though.
Dad had better go steady on the new shed otherwise he’ll be knocking himself out. I'll
knock her up in quick time when I get a chance. Incidentally I sent him a little present
in my last parcel – just a souvenir to cheer him up when he’s missing his old "Sad-dee
arvo " mate.
The wet weather appears to be getting an early start this year in Sydney – br-r-r-r it
sounds like winter. Tonight the shower here made me wish for a steaming hot bathful
of suds as in the old days. You know the kind – 4 inches from the top of the tub.
Strange that Doris's brother Bob should have been so close to me and probably is still.
Does he belong to a transport unit? I'll make enquiries in the most likely places when
I remember his surname.
Glad to know you received the three parcels in good order. Periodically there has to
be a spring cleaning of my gear and you get the salvage. Thank you for getting a little
happiness from my parcels – your glowing tributes to my craftsmanship (pardon my
blushes). But Norma says "Love is blind". To which I reply "I do my best, angels
could do no more".
Those rattling windows were a great source of annoyance weren’t they? You couldn’t
ever get me out in the cold cold “snow” to fix them coul you? Except when I had to
go down to the bathroom to clean my teeth—or something.
Probably you'll have to do a bit of tailoring to make my winter suit fit me – I've never
known them to issue the right size to anyone unless he happened to be deformed in
some way. Still we won't cross our bridges until we come to them. (Having trouble
with this blasted ink tonight).
This afternoon I had a set of tennis – first game I've had in years and nobody would
have thought otherwise. With some practice there should be an improvement. I might
add the Major carried me to victory in spite of the poor showing so that shows he’s
pretty good at it.
Tomorrow there’s the Cricket trials – Probables v Possibles. The results will decide
who will represent the unit in the first and second elevens in the competition. There
are a couple of good teams in the valley so we should see some entertaining cricket.
The Sports Day for athlete is scheduled for Sunday next and I think that the
ambulance will make a pretty fair showing all round. We have a number of good
sprinters in our midst who could do well. Unfortunately there's no keg to roll out
afterwards.
Pross is very well again and Frank looks a new man already. Me? Yair, I'm okay too.
Now the hay, darling wife, be seein ya! Keep your fingers crossed and don't get too
blue about the way things are going. All my loveliest love and kisses with an extra big
hug thrown in. Ever your, Me.
***
325
24 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental
number unit censored by signature illegible.
Dearest's Sweetheart, I received four of your letters yesterday – 92 to 95. The first
one says that you're glad I'm well and getting over the rash on my hands. Strange
because tonight I'm feeling lousy and my hands are bandaged. It's probably only one
of my off days and there is no cause for concern. Hope that malaria bug isn't
beginning to work – that would be a big knock back at this stage of the game wouldn't
it? If my temperature goes any higher, I'll report it. Worst of all though is the
uncomfortable feeling of this dermatitis– my hands feel as though they were covered
with chilblains.
But enough of the "shop" talk and let's get down to answering your letters. I'll say, I'll
say, it's going to be a great day then we can put our pens aside and start kicking the
gong around together once more. There might be some tough times ahead but they'll
have to catch up with us won’t they?
Last night Mother's cough mixture was cleaned up in good style and my cold showed
a definite improvement. I slept like a log and enjoyed the loveliest of dreams – there
back at Nortoft again with the radio blaring out and nobody listening. I wonder if the
moths have built their homes in the burgundy coloured felt surrounds – that will save
you the trouble of throwing it out. Can't have you worrying about dust marks any
more.
This is the place for veggies – chokos, kow-kow, [ kau-kau is the tok pisin name for
sweet potato, a staple food in New Guinea Highlands gardens], lettuce, beans – the
last two are all that interest me. The farm unit will be putting in spuds soon and their
cabbages are coming along. Seeds seem to be a bit of a problem. They are sent up
from the mainland and probably are old which means they don't do so well – beans
particularly. From this you will gather that I've been doing some research in market
gardening. The boongs work the gardens under supervision and I believe they make
quite a fist of it provided they are kept on the move.
You've got a lot of cheek calling my hedge , your hedge – it took me hours of labour
to transplant those bushes. And after all it was a good idea of mine to cover that ugly
old shed.
Don't be afraid to open up the old oak chest occasionally and give her a flicker –
you’ve got to have a bit of pleasure from it and there's that winter suit you want.
Next letter you were writing on your bed before hitting the hay and you had just
returned from Dulcie's place. A very familiar scene. Two bob you were wearing your
pink ‘jamas and dressing gown. I brought that up because it's time you had another
one – or is it? How would you like to buy yourself one as a present from me. There
isn’t much chance of me being able to bring you home anything like that. New Guin
belles have never heard of such things.
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How is Tony? It's really silly to ask so many times, I know but I must mention it.
Mother's letters which reached me yesterday weren’t too hopeful, poor old chap.
Auntie Ethel would be terribly shocked if anything happened to him I know.
Mother was also very worried about Pross so I wrote her last night and assured her
that he is fully recovered.
Today he played cricket with the unit team and they had a win. Looks as though they
might have a chance in the competition.
Forgot your Mum's birthday – wish her many more happy ones on my behalf will
you. I'll buy her a drink one of these days.
Now I'll go dreaming of the old apple tree sweetheart – until next time my fondest
love and kisses with a big hug, Always Your loving husband, Me.
***
26 March 1944. On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, showing rank, regimental
number and unit, in ink, censored by Major PG Heffernan( Rick) NX102249.
Marjorie Darling, My writing this time will be worse than usual as I have my hand
bandaged and wearing mittens. I'm hoping the complaint will clear up in a few days.
Otherwise I'm feeling pretty well and Pross is okay too.
Haven't received any mail for a few days and nothing of important has happened.
There may be some mail on today's plane.
The big sports meeting starts at 12.30 today and the unit has entrants for all events.
They should do well in the running events. We have one star athlete back with us just
in time. Tonight is the night for the big concert so you see our entertainment is on the
improve. Of course the artists are from the units in the area but there is plenty of good
talent among them.
When I was walking down from the RA P a while ago I met a couple of my Yule
Ireland friends from –--. They were concerned about my hands – "Sorry for you
taubada" they said. Quite a lot of them are camped nearby – including Boivari and
Miki. Boivari has been up to see us twice and he still gets a big laugh with his radio
slogans. He is making me some strings for my bows. He tells me "New Guin" boys
"not strong. Papua boy, he come to make road", the difference between them is
similar to that between Sydney and Melbourne.
Well, sweetheart sinabada,[the Motuan lingua franca equivalent of taubada,in
relation to a woman], I just make talk for you and now I stop writing.
Until next time goodbye and God bless. All my love and extra special kisses and
hugs. Your husband, George.
PS. Tell Bet to keep me a bottle of that brew. G
***
327
28 March 1944. On plain lightweight writing pad, in ink, with rank, regimental
number unit censored by Captain JJ Cuff NX111013.
Dearest Sweetheart, The mail plane arrived today with two of your letters (97 and 98)
and also two from "Ding Dong". Col told me about his visit, on his last leave day and
your latest letter confirms the event. It's about seven months since I saw him last so I
don't know if the reports about him being a bit eccentric are right or not. His stories of
the persecution of all but a favoured few are slightly exaggerated but of course it's the
right of every private to have a moan – sort of a safety valve.
As far as Bill Peters is concerned there couldn't be a fairer person provided his
judgement is not based on misleading information. Everyone is likely to give a wrong
decision at times and I think Col felt that he was being victimised for awhile. He’s
very obstinate once he gets an idea like that in his head and nothing will alter him. I'm
glad he called to see you and let you have a look at his brand-new wife. I haven't met
but have spoken to her on the phone a couple of times and she sounded as if she
would be a pretty sensible sort of less.
It must be a great relief to Auntie Ethel, (and you too) to know that Uncle is on the
improve. I had expected to hear the worst. Perhaps he’ll able to shout me a
champagne when that leave comes around.
Pross said to thank you for your kind thoughts and sends his love. He’s playing
cricket again today and is feeling back to normal. Yesterday we had a needle so you
can take two points off for that. And my hands are lousy, thank you. I've got them
smeared all over with zinc creme which makes writing most difficult. However with
the aid of a sheet of paper, cotton wool and plenty of time, I’m making the grade.
Bouquets for the ring and earrings received – really, you’ll have me believing those
things if you keep repeating them. Not that I don't like them, you know. By the way
production on the other job is held up because of the condition of my hands. I have to
abandon the idea or at least postpone it until a more opportune time presents itself.
That ring I made you once was a New Guinea shilling.
Surprised to hear that the Barrells gave up their home – that would be a blow to
Queen Annie wouldn't it? Still it was the most sensible thing for them to do in these
days.
Pross received letters from Mother and Teen this morning and they seem to be in a
better frame of mind in regard to his illness – you can tell them again that there's
nothing wrong with him now.
Strange that you should spot that advertisement of Farmers for the Red Cross and
send it along. I bet that is an actual drawing of our M I Room or done by an artist
from memory. You didn't realise that did you. Thanks for the newsletter too, darling.
The area sports meeting was duly held on Sunday and the unit did remarkably well,
being very unfortunate in not winning the 100 yards sprint and 220. We were placed
second in both events, Jack Smith, our star runner, fell over at the finishing post in the
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220 and was unplaced. He ran in the final heat for the 100, in the 220 and also the 440
which he won and really he was unlucky to be beaten in any event in spite of the fact
that he had done no training at all. The ambulance was three points behind the
winners in the final count for the day.
Now then my number one dream girl, I'll get ready for tea. The evening is lovely and
cool after a nice shower of rain so I hope to do justice to the eats.
Are your fingers crossed, darling. Keep the old chin up and a song in your heart. All
my love and kisses and extra special hugs. Your loving husband, George.
***
30 March 1944. On ACF letterhead, in ink with regimental number, rank and unit,
censored by Capt. John Wright
Dearest Sweetheart, I'm afraid I'll have to answer your letters 99, 100, and 1. Briefly
my right hand is in a bad state. The left hand is very much better but that doesn't help
much. I've been on "no duties" all this week with both hands plastered with zinc
creme so you can guess I've just been lolling around trying to keep the blasted stuff
from smearing all over my clothes. Bad luck that this should happen to me when I’ve
been doing everything possible to avoid it. However I suppose it will have to run its
course and I'm hoping it will clear up soon.
Your three letters came this morning, darling with one from Mother. Sorry to hear
your uncle is still on the danger list and that Auntie Ethel is taking it badly. There's
nothing much one can say about those things except that I pray he will recover, if only
for Auntie's sake.
The report that Kim is missing is also bad news. Mr Patterson said in his letter he
hadn't heard from him from long time but I thought he might have moved out to India
where Frank Andrews is stationed.
Betty Menzies must be relieved to get news of her husband. Being a prisoner of war is
better than being a corpse. And according to reports POWs are being fairly treated in
Germany.
Poor old Dad is in the wars again, eh? The winter is not very kind to him is it? I hope
you're able to get sufficient fuel for good fires to keep him warm in the coming
months. You are entitled to a special supply if there is an invalid in the house you
know.
The day here has been showery with a bright sunny morning. Pross washed out my
clothes for me but they didn't dry. I think I'll give him a permanent job. He looks well
and is feeling fine, he says. I'm okay except for the complaint which makes me feel
lousy mentally.
How you sweetheart. You haven't told me in your last few letters. You got to keep
healthy because we can't afford two "crocks" in the family.
329
When you go down to 22 Wolesly Street tell Mother my reply to her letter will be
postponed for a while. Pross can carry on by himself for about a week. There's not
much to write about anyway and you can pass on the chatter.
Will finish now darling girl. Be seeing you in the same place tonight. Keep on
keeping your fingers crossed. With my fondest love and kisses. Your loving husband,
George.
***
April 1944
Wau- Bulolo Valley: Hospitalised for dermatitis, Bridge, cricket, soccer,
Boivari’s return .
1 April 1944. On ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number rank name, unit no
visible censorship.
Dearest Sweetheart, I'm holding this pen between a well-bandaged thumb and
forefinger which is bad enough. But the ointment is seeping through the bandages and
I have to use a lint mat to stop it from going into your letter. Add to this the difficulty
of writing while lolling on a bed and supporting the weight of the body on a hinged
elbow and you’ll appreciate the expression "ain't love grand". Still I hate to think of
you being without a letter for any length of time and nothing will deter me from at
least scribbling you a note as long as my pen can make the curves and straights and
dots.
My right hand proper looks like a piece of raw meat but the left is in much better
condition. I think there is an improvement today and perhaps the complaint will start
to clear up now.
I have a bed at the end of a long ward which is wired and has an iron roof. All day
long I can lie on my side and admire the ever-changing cloud formations on the hills
which enclose the valley. It's really a beautiful spot and under different circumstances
it would be hard to equal. Not snarling peaks these but round and undulating with
patches of green which in reality are stretches of long kunai grass.. Distance in the
valley is very deceptive and what appears to be only yards away is actually many
miles and days of travel on foot if feet could possibly penetrate these regions. On
bright days the wreckage of a ‘plane can be seen but no one has been able to reach it,
I believe. Heavy clouds have been hanging around all day and the sun has been
struggling to break through without much success. It's been rather sultry with a
sprinkle of rain this afternoon but the wind is rising and it will be cold tonight I
suppose. And that about ends my travelogue and discourse on today's weather.
The news is about the same and there's the usual crop of startling rumours. I've got to
the stage where I believe nothing of what I hear and only half of what I see.
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Pross is well and is doing a great job in the "laundry" for me. I'm feeling well enough
myself but I think a tonic might help. I going to ask if some vitamins can be shot in
me tomorrow.
How you, darling and all the folks. Trust that uncle is on the mend and that Ethel is
feeling better. And old Dad too – hope his pains have eased. Give my love to them all
and tell Mother it could be worse.
It's treatment time now dearest so this is where I fade out. There are forty odd days in
my paybook that sound like heaven to me and it mightn't be long before they are
being used up. Keep the old chin up and we’ll be back to where we started before we
realise it.
My fondest love and kisses and hugs to the little gardener around the old burgh.
As always, Your, Me. PS. Dear Maggie, you'll never know how much I've missed
you. G.
***
3 April 1944. On ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number rank name, unit
censorship signature illegible.
My Darling Marjorie, There's no need for me to go into a long discourse on how I'm
still swathed in bandages (hands I mean) – my writing will tell you that. Rather than
that I’ll tell you how pleased I was to receive two letters from you yesterday and
another surprise one today. My gal reporter never lets me down and one day she is
going to be rewarded for all her kindness. Your poor fingers must be aching having
them crossed for so long. I'm afraid you'll have to uncross them for a few weeks as
these hands of mine have upset things altogether. Pross is unlucky – he turned down
an offer to go on leave without me and I couldn't alter his decision. Says he doesn't
mind as a few more weeks are neither here nor there but it must have been
disappointing for him. I know how I felt about it. However it's better not to risk the
chance of my complaint spreading and this climate isn't so terrible. Major Thomas
thinks there's a big improvement today and I'm sure he's right. In a weeks time,
perhaps it will be gone with the wind – let's hope so.
I expect Ian saw a great change in Dad – remember the cocktails we had with Mr
Whosis, the builder, at the Wellington. Those days used to put a sparkle in old Wilf's
eyes, didn't they?
Certainly we saw "A Yank in the RAF" together – a long time ago wasn't it?
I like the idea of you having your gymnastics in Drummoyne – the lonely road up to
the other place wasn't the best and you’re so impatient about waiting for trams. Mrs.
Tancred must be getting a little figure conscious – why don't you try to persuade your
Mum to go along. I would get a great kick out of imagining her rolling around the
floor in outsize bloomers. She mustn't know I said that of course.
331
Pross is playing cricket today and from progressive reports the team is doing well.
They are against the strongest team in the competition and as it's a knockout they are
anxious to win. Whichever team wins this game will win the competition I think.
There's not much in your latest letter about Tony but that is because his recovery is
slow, no doubt. Hope that Auntie is bearing up under the strain.
The Rowing Club will probably put on a show for Pross – don't think it will attract me
unless the good beer is scarce elsewhere, (not for Bruce's ear). I just couldn't stand
any more "corn" – maybe you and I could get together and have a little heart-to-heart
talk instead. As before.
This is the first time I've been a patient in a hospital and it's quite an experience in one
way. For instance there's the bloke across the way who does all the talking and lets
everyone read his letters so that they can help him to reply. A likeable sort of chap
with, it seems, a fickle girlfriend. Next him is another chap who has a mania for
showing the family album to all and sundry. Others are silent and one doesn't know
whether they are blacksmiths or architects. A good deal of sleep talking goes on at
night. I awakened with a start last night to hear a voice up to the end of the ward
calling "Mother! Mother! Listen dear listen. Mother listen awhile". Evidently mother
didn't hear him because his voice trailed off in a hopeless tone.
Well that is there is for now darling, not very interesting but it's a ‘chinwag’. Be a
good girl and keep the chin up. Until next time, all my love, your husband George.
***
5 April 1944. On ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number rank name, unit no
visible censorship.
Dearest Sweetheart, I have just finished my afternoon nap and after poising with the
pen between bandaged forefinger and thumb for some minutes I'm on my way to
filling up a couple of pages of light chatter. Oh yes you want to know how my
"dermo" is progressing. Well it's a lot better today and I think it's now well under
control. The rest of the body is in good order and hopes are high.
For the first time in many many months, last night I saw a number of white women –
and Bondi Beach and Manly. Only galloping the photographs of course but
nevertheless – they were stimulating as well as entertaining. The mobile movie unit
has arrived and they opened the show with a "News from Home" newsreel showing
Sydney's beaches in full swing, including a dirty big Yank ogling a smart little thing
in two piece bathers – which brought forth a groan from the audience. The feature
was "Gentleman Jim" based on the life of Jim Corbett the boxer of old times. I'm not
sure whether or not this is a pre-release – have an idea that it has been screened in
Sydney already. Anyhow it was worth seeing especially under the circs. Errol Flynn
plays Jim Corbett with Alexis Smith as the charming Miss Ware who is in love with
him all the time but only the audience realises it. Naturally, three parts or more of the
film is taken up with the noble art of fisticuffs. Needless to say everyone who could
332
walk or crawl and was not on duty, was down on the strip where the screen was
rigged up.
Another letter (No.5) of yours reached me yesterday bringing the news of your local
doings up to March 29. You had been having a date with Dulce and Betty Morey
which I bet was a competition between the two of them to see who could tell you the
most in the least possible time. Still I could stand a bit of ear-bashing from those girls
myself.
About the spanking! You're right, we won't have time. And the photographs – if you
like you can send it airmail. It will reach me eventually wherever I happen to be.
Pross showed me Mother's letter in which she was very concerned about not seeing
us. I explained the position to you when I wrote on Monday last.
You know I wouldn't wake up if someone hit me with a ten pound hammer. Of course
I met Don's brother WO1 Sutton when he was supervising the rebuilding of the
hospital. He got something wrong with him later and I drove him down to the plane to
be evacuated to an AGH. He now wears a handlebar moustache like Groucho Marx
and the disguise fooled me. We met him at Winbourne on his honeymoon didn't we?
I received another email lettercard from Mitch a few days ago – dated 24/1/44 –
which I'll send on when answered. Nothing much in it though.
A letter from the office mentions that Kim Patterson is reported missing, probably a
prisoner of war. Sounds hopeful as the Navy doesn't usually make mis-statements.
Will close now darling and continue my reading. Will be with you again soon so keep
a "song in your heart or sumfin’". With all my love and kisses, as always your Me.
***
7 April 1944. On ACF letterhead, in ink, with regimental number rank name, unit
censorship signature not legible.
Dearest Sweetheart, Yesterday I got another letter from my number one girl, dated
March 30 and the sixth in the new series. I wonder how many pages you have written
since that first one on December 7, 1943. If I had been able to keep them all a special
pack would have been required to cart them around. Periodically I make a little fire
and very reluctantly burn them, keeping only a few of the best ones. I think of all the
letters you have ever written the first one is the loveliest. Because it matched my own
feelings and moods so well I suppose.
Now the time is coming close when we can talk and laugh and really enjoy ourselves
once more. It's hard to believe isn't it darling?
Good Friday in New Guinea is much the same as any other day except that everybody
is doing a little less than usual. My clouds are spilling over the mountainsides out
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there and the atmosphere is sultry so there'll probably be some more rain tonight. Rain
has been very regular during the last week but only in light showers.
Today completes my first week in hospital and the progress report of the ailment is
quite satisfactory. The healing is slow because of moist conditions, I suppose but a
week more on the treatment should clear it up. My health otherwise is A1, the
complete "bludge" plus a vitamin A injection has made me rearing to go. If my hands
were right I’d be up on the bench working on my P 38's but they will have to wait.
Did I tell you that I sent you a parcel containing the lakatoi about eight days ago? It
wasn't very well wrapped so I'm hoping it will be lucky enough not to be treated too
harshly by the Post Office. When you open it be careful not to cut the strings of fibre
which are the halyards on the mast. You might think that they are strings to hold the
paper in position – that's why I mention it.
Pross saw Groucho Marx Sutton yesterday – I told you he had gone to another part of
the island but evidently he’s rejoined his unit. Will make myself known to him when
he comes around again. Pross by the way is well and getting ready for the big day.
The cricket team had a good win yesterday and play-off for the "Valley Ashes" in a
couple of days time.
You sound much more happy about Tony's condition and from what you say Auntie
must be relieved. I hope she'll have him home in a few weeks time.
I'm afraid you'll have to take all the credit for the roses – I only planted them. It's a
pity I didn't buy a couple of dozen roots at that time – they were some of the
healthiest bushes I've ever seen. Still there’ll be plenty around when we start our new
garden, I hope
Keep up the good work darling and your dreams will come true. Be with you in the
same old place. Until my next, ‘bye ‘bye and God bless. With my fondest love and
kisses, Always Your, Me. P.S. If you haven't already sent your photograph – DON'T.
***
9 April 1944. On airmail Lettercard, with penny stamp, in ink disclosing regimental
number, rank, name, unit with censor’s signature L.A Watts, (probably an officer in
the AGH, as is the case with all other letters apparently originating while George was
in hospital).
Dearest Sweetheart, The mail plane arrived today with your two letters (7 & 8) of
April 1 and 3. I have a bit of a hangover and have been dozing all the afternoon so
you get only a postcard in reply. The main reason is that words are scarce though.
My hands are slowly improving – very slowly but that’s something isn't it?. Pross said
last night that he’s put on 8 pounds since he’s been here and feels like a fighting cock.
It's not a bad place here – just like a beautiful prison.
A few visitors came around last night and helped to make a noise and tell some of
their experiences and in all the gathering was enjoyed by everyone. Even our little
lame chook seemed to get a kick out of it. He is very tame and runs up to get his share
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of tucker eating at out of your hand. The hen sat on him when he was tiny and then he
got neuritis or something in the legs but we put him in a box and looked after him and
now he’s a sort of a mascot. I say he but it might be she.
Fresh butter on the bread at dinnertime was a treat. I think I could live on bread-andbutter. There's also a supply of fresh meat in so that will be for tea I suppose.
Darling about that dressing gown – you get it if you want it and hang the expense. All
the same you can tell Norma that I think you look pretty in the old one and it's not
dated. By the way she hasn't written for a long time – did I say something wrong?
You told mother that I haven't been able to write to her, didn't you. One is hard
enough and Pross keeps her supplied with the chatter.
About the cottage at Wentworth Falls – maybe your decision is good – maybe not. It
depends on circumstances. The two gals should have a good time – who’s going to
chaperone them?
Not much more to scribble, dearest, so I'll go and get my hands dressed again. Be
with you again soon. In the meantime take good care of yourself.
All my fondest love and kisses, darling from, Your, Me.
***
10 April 1944. On quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental number rank
name and unit without visible sign of censorship.
Dearest Marjorie, To begin with – the funniest remark of the day. Six of us were
having soups, and obviously enjoying it. A "full diet" patient reading a book, unable
to stand the racket any longer booked up and remarked "Geez! Sounds like a b---armada". Knowing my pet aversion to noisy diets I'm sure you'll appreciate the
humour of this incident.
Most important event of the day – a letter from you, one from Dulce and bundles of
magazines, also from you. Dad's story of Donny's pistol was pretty smart but tell him
I bet Aub keeps a couple of bottles under cover to make the Sunday grade. You will
also have to explain to Dulcie that I won't be able to answer her letter for some time
owing to the difficulties. My hands are still bad although there’s a slight
improvement. I want to get them right for my leave and everything possible is being
done in way of treatment.
Since I told you about the advertisement you sent I've discovered that it is actually a
drawing of the place and others had discovered it too.
Glad to hear Norm is much better – she'd better be at the top of her form for me.
You haven't mentioned having received the parcel with a grass skirt so far – hope it
hasn't gone astray. And don't forget to let me know when you get the other one, will
335
you. There's nothing much can be done about them if they are lost but I'd like to
know.
Pictures are on tonight – Bob Hope and Betty Hutton in "Let’s Face It". Should be
good provided the rain doesn't interfere. The storm clouds are gathering out on the
hills and it's very sultry which is not very hopeful sign. I won't go if it’s raining – on
account of me hands.
Well, sweetheart, you know how it is in these here parts so I'll have to chase along. I'll
do all the little things you say and may be your fingers won't get so very tired.
Until next time ‘bye ‘bye and take extra good care of yourself for me. Love to all the
family at 27 and 22 and you too.
Always your loving husband, Me.
PS. I get all your little messages on the side – you're still number one Sinabada, too.
***
13 April 1944. On quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental number rank
name and unit without visible sign of censorship.
Dearest Sweetheart, I had a letter from you yesterday – the one you wrote on April 56. Mail is more regular these days, it seems.
Your feelings about Uncle Tony very encouraging and I suppose Auntie is much
happier too. We’ll be cracking that bottle of champagne with them before the winter
is over. If everything had gone well I would have been doing that little thing right
now, probably. My hands are still improving slowly but they're in an awful mess.
Thirteen days in hospital doesn't improve the morale much either. However there are
compensations. Yesterday for instance, I had "two on a raft" and eggs are as precious
as gold in these regions. Pancakes are another delicacy very enjoyed. This week we
have also had fresh meat and butter and I believe it is to be featured regularly on the
menu in future but we'll just have to wait and see.
Bob Hope's picture "Lets Face It" wasn't bad – although I think it's his poorest effort
to date. A slight shower threatened to make things uncomfortable for awhile and then
passed over. A couple of minutes after we arrived back at camp, she came down in
torrents and nobody cared. The native "boys" get a great kick out of the movies and
they were there in droves. I wonder what they think of Mickey Mouse.
Pross is playing cricket again today and the team should go very close to winning the
final game. Pross is looking "extra" well, tell Mother, and is taking on a good colour.
She'll be seeing him before many more weeks have passed.
There was a paragraph in last Saturday's Guinea Gold about Gordon Howe's
American decoration but as it seems to be the same story told by the Herald a long
time ago, I'm not sending it on. They sure do get behind with some of their news,
don’t they?
336
Your Auntie Lucy will think her boy should get something of the sort too I suppose –
the dear old thing.
Now let's not get catty or you might fly at the old battle-axe. Be looking forward to
supplying the foot warmers but in the meantime you’d better stick to the yellow
socks. All my love dearest girl and extra special hugs and kisses.
Always your, Me.
***
15 April 1944. On quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental number rank
name and unit without visible sign of censorship.
Dearest Marjorie, The plane came in this morning but there was no letter from you
for me. Which is amazing as it is the first time I've missed out when there's been any
mail. There's always tomorrow and I'm banking on a bundle in that lot.
The condition of my hands continues to improve at a snail's pace and this afternoon I
have a bandage on my arm to reduce swelling caused by the infections. Hence my
writing is a little worse than usual. Don't worry about me being a martyr just so that
you can have a letter. It's merely a case of getting around a few bandages and a whole
lot of zinc cream without getting everything mussed up. And anyhow it gives me
something to write about. My temperature is always normal and my pulse thumps
solidly so apart from a pair of moth eaten hands, I'm okay. I think the chief trouble is
I'm missing little mum's cooking very badly.
In general things are about the same and I'm hoping it won't be long before you and I
are doing the town together. Every day is one day nearer. Keep up the old chin,
darling.
And now that I've said "hello" and said my piece I’ll down the old quill and toddle
along. Love to Mom, Pop and Sugar also all at 22 Wolsely Street until my next
scratch, sweetheart darling ‘bye ‘bye and God bless.
Always your loving husband, George.
PS. Sorry about the skinny note but it's about all I can make today. Love and kisses G.
***
17 April 1944. On Australian Red Cross Society Letterhead, lined writing pad paper,
in ink, with regimental number, name, rank and unit and indecipherable initials of a
censoring officer, probably from the hospital unit.
Dearest Sweetheart, I have just finished reading your letter of April 9 which came in
today's mail. Happy to know you’re well and that your patients are doing a bit better.
Give them my best wishes when you see them again – Tony and Ethel I mean. Hope
Dad has got over his bout too.
I bet Bill is all "’hed up" now that he is nearing home – lucky guy beating me to the
post. How many days leave has he got? I think I told you there are forty-odd marked
due in my book. Whether I'll get them is another matter – and when is the chief
337
concern. Certainly I'd like to have this complaint on my hands cleared up before
coming home. Today is my seventeenth day in hospital and you can guess it's mighty
monotonous. Still I could be in a worse place than this and things could be much less
pleasant.
Yesterday the boongs played Soccer on the ground in front of this ward and I had a
grandstand view from my bed. They are pretty keen on the game and started off with
three hours practice before actually getting down to playing in earnest. How they
know who’s on what side is beyond me. They are all so much alike.
The weather of late has been moist and sultry and I'm told the "wet" season is coming
in. The rain here is much lighter than the tropical downpours we used to get though.
There's a picture show on tomorrow night again so I'm hoping it will be dry then.
Otherwise it can rain hail or shine and it won't affect me
Now darling girl I'll say Goodbye as there's nothing more to say. The date you made
at the top of stairs first on right is okay with me. Be seeing you there. Love and extra
special kisses and hugs from, Your loving husband, George.
***
19 April 1944. On Australian Red Cross Society Letterhead, lined writing pad paper,
in ink, with regimental number, name, rank and unit and no sign of censorship.
"My little Marjie", You said to keep a song in my heart – well that's it. Irving Berlin
must have had you in mind when he wrote that song, I think. It's an evergreen isn't it
and one that I can say is a natural for me – except the home part. Pair "Margie" with
"I love you truly" and you've almost got the complete picture and that's saying it with
song.
I'm up in the clouds today because there were two letters from you in this mail. One
should have arrived on Sunday – the day I missed out – and the other brings my news
from home up to 9.30 April 11 (number 13). You just heard that I had gone into
hospital with my hands. I think you will find I mentioned it in my letter of April 1 or
2 and I told you not to panic. This is the nineteenth day of having my spine in the
horizontal position and although response to the treatment has been exceeding slow
today I feel that at last we're getting somewhere. It will probably be a long time
before the skin is back to normal but not many days ‘ere I can say my mitts are on
full-time duty once more. How boring all this talk must be, when there's the feeling of
spring is around the corner in our minds.
Of course I remember the time we pushed the Chev back from Ryde and the good fun
we had that night. A thousand memories have been lived in again in the months we've
been apart. And while I've been passing the hours away in this hospital you’ve been
closer to me than ever. It makes me happy to know that you feel the same as I do.
Thank you for the lovely message, darling.
I'll have lots to say to you when I come home – things just can't be put down on paper
but in the meantime I'll keep them carefully stored away in my mind. You're still my
Dearest Maggie.
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All my love sweetheart and kisses ’n everything. Your loving husband, Me.
***
21 April 1944. On Australian Red Cross Society Letterhead, lined writing pad paper,
in ink, with regimental number, name, rank and unit and indecipherable initials of a
censoring officer, probably from the hospital unit
Dearest Sweetheart, By the feel of things this letter is going to be a "quickie". The
day is overcast and sultry and it's time for my afternoon nap. Sounds like a soldier's
life is pretty good doesn't it? Funny thing about it though is that in spite of the fact
that I sleep during the day sometimes, I always go through the night without waking.
It's going to be hard when I have to start greasing the truck and working again.
I have some good news about my hands – they've improved beyond all expectation
this week. Major Thomas said that he would let me out but that it is advisable to get
the skin toned up and clear up the complaint completely before I begin to use my
hands. If anything is driven in and the skin is not healthy I am likely to have the
trouble all over again. So here I have my twenty-second day in hospital.
How are you feeling darling? Are you still wearing the yellow socks or has Sydney
weather not yet reached that stage. You can depend on not having to wear them all the
winter, anyhow.
There hasn't been any mail for a couple of days and consequently no newspapers. The
news from the radio sounds all right and it seems there's going to be a big showdown
before long. I wonder how soon it will be before this war ends – it's hard to imagine
what it will be like when the world is at peace again, isn't it?
Pross is well and sends his love. He says he doesn't mind at having missed out for
leave because of me – but I suppose it was a bit of a blow. Frank is still with us so we
might all land in the little old burgh together – Frank said last night it would suit him.
He remembers the party at Five Dock.
Now I'll say goodbye dear until next time. Better start sprucing up the garden and put
in some new plants for me.
Fondest love and kisses and hugs, Your loving husband, George
PS. Remember how we tricked Judie at Winbourne?.
***
23 April 1944. On blank quarto sized writing pad, in ink, regimental number, rank
name and unit, without evidence of censorship.
Dearest Sweetheart, I've just finished a game of Bridge which my partner and I won
by thousands. It wasn't very enjoyable as one of our opponents moaned for two hours
because his luck was out. No more Bridge with him for me! However the game is a
good one to pass the time away so we’ll have to get another fourth.
339
Yesterday your two letters (14 and 15) came and I'm glad you didn't give me the
lecture you had been cooking up. No need to because you cant stop me from writing
to my best girl.
My hands are coming good in plenty quick time now. The treatment now is massage
with olive oil and a good smearing of zinc creme afterwards. Soon my hands will be
satin soft and smoother than a baby’s. Sounds a bit like the Palmolive ads, doesn't it?
I'm feeling 100% fit and ready to tear of a large strip of your company again. The
moments are going very slowly but the time is coming nearer with every tick of the
Westclox that you used to forget the wind so often (?). By the way thank your Maw
and Paw for their kind thoughts and tell Dad he shouldn't oughta wear the seat out of
his pants like that – sliding down the banisters again, I suppose. If they are his
drinking pants, it's a tragedy
You needn’t worry about the ‘jamas – I didn't want them anyhow
You asked about the tucker – well we’re not supposed to discuss things of military
importance but I think I can safely say it's okay without incurring the censor's wrath.
Salad lunches are pretty regular these days. Nice tomatoes and chopped up cabbages
with cheese and bread. Namour Heria Sinabada!
Our chook is laying well and just at the right time as one of our coves is dangerously
ill and he needs them. The cat left us only one of the chickens so that now our poultry
farm consists of a lady and gent with their little girl. Wotta story for Anne.
It would be unwise to send any parcels at the moment darling as nobody knows what's
going to happen. There's no lack of guesswork though. Besides the canteen supplies
keep us going with biscuits and sweets etc and the tobacco ration is fair.
The "New Guin boys” have been playing the usual soccer match today and they've
gone home after tiring themselves out. Quietness reigns supreme once more. I've
never seen anyone so keen on the game as they are. During the game six coloured
gentleman dolled up in bright lap laps (cloths) and white flowers in their hair came
out of the bushes and very slowly and serenely filed across the ground like a funeral
procession. They didn't seem to notice the ardent footballers. It struck me as being
funny.
That's all for the day darling girl. Be with you soon. A big lot of love and kisses and
hugs until next time. As always, Your, Me.
***
25 April 1944 On Australian Red Cross Society Letterhead, lined writing pad paper,
in ink, with regimental number, name, rank and unit and signature of censoring
officer, J R Rowe, probably from the hospital unit .
Dearest Sweetheart, Pross came into the ward this morning and handed me two letters
– one from Mother and the other from Bruce. Then he sat down on the bed and I
showed him the paragraph in Guinea Gold about George Delaney kissing a girl in a
340
Balmain Street which cost him a couple of quid. Pross said he must have been drunk
and I said "It's funny, there were no letters from Margie in the mail." Of course I
knew he was holding out on me – he eventually pulled out his pocket five little beauts
from you. So I had a nice hour of the best reading matter I could possibly get.
Before I go any further tell Bruce I enjoyed his stories immensely and I'm going to
have a shot at catching up with my correspondence at the end of the week when I
should be back on the job again. The yarn about the Yank airmen made a hit with the
boys in the ward – I read it out to them. I'll tell you a few true stories when I come
home.
Your last letter is dated April 21 – last Friday – not bad going from Sydney. And
you're preparing for the weekend at Wentworth Falls. Hope you got plenty of the
good old mountain air and feel the benefit of the change. Betty and Dulce would be a
bit at sea without their gas stoves, wouldn't they? Still I suppose they'd pick it up
quickly – and don't quote me for goodness sake.
In a recent letter to you I asked about the two parcels and I'm glad to hear they arrived
safely. Did Dad like the present with the grass skirt? – you didn't say.
This is the last page of my pad dearest so I'll have to leave the answering of your
letters until tomorrow.
My hands are pretty right now and they'll be as good as ever by the time that leave
comes around.
Tonight is picture night and I believe the show is Jack Benny's "Charlies's Aunt" so
I'd better get going.
Be with you this time tomorrow dearest girl. All my love and kisses and hugs. Ever
your, Me.
***
26 April 1944. On ACF, lined quarto sized lined pad, in ink, with regimental number
rank name and unit with illegibly scribbled initials of censoring officer, probably
from hospital unit.
Dearest Marjorie, Now to answer your five lovely letters received yesterday. You see
I’ve been successful in getting some paper – the canteen hasn’t any pads at the
moment.
Strange that you should think yourself lucky to get so many letters – compared with
me you are poorly treated. I can always picture you sitting down at the little round
table almost every night scratching away with the old pen telling me the things I love
to hear. I wonder if you know how much your letters mean to me, especially when I
have so much time in which to think about home.
341
My hands still bear the marks of the "dermo" assault but it's only a matter of time for
them to heal completely. I should be discharged from hospital in a day or two. That's
my medical report for the day.
Has Bill arrived yet? Looks like we are not destined to have our leave together after
all, doesn’t it? Never mind, you’ll be hearing the news from two different points at
different times. The old Bill will sure be wound up for Sunday nights. I suppose
Anne is getting excited at the thought of seeing her Dad again. Her letter shows how
grown up she’s getting--- she’ll be expecting another fairy story from me no doubt.
I wouldn't pay much attention to Cec's teasing if I were you. Although a party on
Mother's birthday might be a good idea. Cec seems to know where to get the "putter
under the table" or Aub could do something in the matter.
Sorry to hear about the burn on your neck – you’d better be careful with it. Zinc
creme would probably help it a lot
The hairdo should be "extra" after all that pain. What caused the accident ? Don't
forget to tell me all about it and let me know if you're satisfied with the curls. Of
course I know you look lovely anyway but you're pretty hard to please in that way. I
still like the curls piled high – remember the good old times we used to have looking
for safety pins and collar studs. Cec always seemed to have my dress studs when I
wanted them, didn't he?
Wally Pine has just come around with some Cross cigarettes and writing material. He
asked to be remembered to you.
I saw "Charley's Aunt" last night and enjoyed it. A bit of slapstick now and then is not
bad and Jack Benny certainly did a good job with the old timer
I'm afraid I confused you over the photograph and I still don't know what to tell you
to do. So I'm passing the buck and leaving it to you.
Fancy Norma loving me like she ‘usta – my, my. I can still hear the screams in my
dreams. Them’s were the days.
Poor old Clarkie and I always had the same ideas about soup and dental plates that
rattle while in use. The guy you are thinking about was Harrold who was wont to get
a juicy Sargents pie, bite out a mouthful and then concentrate on sucking in the liquid
part as if he were playing a mouth organ. Finger-licking followed naturally.
Now dearest sweetheart I'll say goodbye until next time. Love to all and an extra
special lot for yourself.
Always your loving husband, Me.
PS. Not forgetting the kisses and hugs. G.
***
342
28 April 1944. On Australian Red Cross Society letterhead, lined writing pad, in ink,
with regimental number, rank name and unit, with scribbled initials of censoring
officer.
Dearest Sweetheart, I'm waiting for the mail to come in with a letter for me as I’m
due for one seeing that you write daily. Yesterday No. 19 (April 19) arrived – two
days after the one written on April 21 – it must have been hung up somewhere along
the line.
How's the burn on your neck going? Pretty painful I suppose. And how did your trip
to the mountains turn out? Perhaps you are still there enjoying the lovely ozone and
long walks. Just now the weather would be very cool at Wentworth Falls so you'll be
wearing your winter woollies and huddling over a big fire at night, no doubt. In
contrast I'm sitting on a hospital bed in light ‘jamas and feeling rather hot. The
temperature here seems to vary from hour to hour. It's steaming and I take off my coat
– then it is chilling and I crawl under a blanket
The "dermo" is getting better all the time and this morning the Doctor said he would
discharge me if I was fed up with being in hospital. However he said it would be to
my own interests to clear the complaint up completely as there would be a possibility
of it breaking out in a more acute form if irritated. The skin of my hands has become
highly sensitive, possibly caused by the action of petrol on it or perhaps some other
irritating substance has broken down the tuning of the skin. In future I'll have to be
careful what I handle for a while anyway. I may have to transfer out of the transport
for a few months.
Crikey! All that filled up a few lines, didn't it?
The office bulletin for April reached me yesterday. In it, Mr Patterson has written
about Kim and from the report received there is a hope that he has been taken
prisoner. With an A/B, Kim was given a dangerous job to do at Anzio about six
weeks before the landing was made, but they didn't return. The International Red
Cross is making enquiries so they may get some news before long. Poor old Pat is
heartbroken but is hanging to the faint ray of hope.
There were no letters for me in the mail so I'm a bit hard pressed for words, darling.
Things are about the same as far as I'm concerned and I'm looking forward to that
party. Won’t it be grand when you don't have to worry about what to do with your
spare time.
In the meantime take good care of yourself and don't get too "blue". The happy days
we’ve planned can't be far away.
My fondest love and kisses and hugs to my No. 1 and only sweetheart.
Your devoted husband, Me.
***
343
29 April 1944. On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, in ink, with regimental
number, Rank name and unit with censorship signature of unidentifiable officer,
probably from hospital unit staff.
Dearest Sweetheart, It's Saturday afternoon and wet and I've just finished a game of
Bridge and I thought I'd drop you a line before feeding the inner man.
Your cheery letter written at Wentworth Falls on the 22nd came in this morning's mail
and it's good to hear you are enjoying your holiday. You haven't had much of a time
during the past 18 months, have you – all that's going to be corrected when I get the
chance darling. You're lucky to have missed all the hustle and bustle of the Easter
crowds they seem to have been like wild animals. The break from the hum-drum of
everyday life in Drummoyne should do you a lot of good sweetheart and I'm glad you
grabbed the opportunity to go away with the gals.
Give both my love when you see them again, won't you. Include Dad Mum Norm and
"Droopers" in that too. Betty will know the last mentioned. (Remind me to duck when
I get home).
From your letter I gather you liked the cottage very much. It couldn't be as good as
Leura of course. Remember the little back room? And the other place with the aweinspiring pictures. Couldn't ever get used to those things hanging over me.
Sorry about the yellow socks letting you down. That's something I'll never do even
though I may flinch a bit at times. (Could do with a "hot water bottle" myself at the
moment)
This is just an "extra" dearest so's you'd know I'm okay and thinking of you. Goodbye
for now and keep up your old yellow socks for awhile longer.
A big kiss and hug with all my love.
As always, Me.
***
30 April 1944 On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, in ink, with regimental
number, Rank name and unit with no visible censorship marking.
Marjorie Darling, If I didn't say "hello" to you today my card of yesterday wouldn't
be an "extra" would it? So that's why I'm writing, although I can't get much beyond
the "hello". This is my third card since lunch – one to Mother and one to Sis WW in
an ever to catch up on my correspondence.
I been telling Dulce about this party we had last night and which I viewed from a
distance. The bloke who gets bitten by the dog twice is not wise, says I, puffing on a
Craven "A" and enjoying the fun. Somebody threw a slice of tomato at one of the
band and the music stopped until compensation had been made. "Hitler" made an
entrance with his arms around "Uncle Joe" and in fanatical tones was offering peace
to all and sundry. His second appearance was on a stretcher eyes bulging and false
teeth resting on his lower lip. The "Padre" gave the funeral oration, eulogising him as
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the "world's greatest most wonderful colossal stupendous b…” and so on. Most of the
guests thought that" corpse" was really a cot case, which added much to the
amusement.
Pross had an unhappy time after "lights out" but is pretty right now.
Boivari called in to see us awhile ago. Had his teeth polished white as pearls, so
evidently he’d been working on them for a few days. Last time we saw him he had
been chewing betel nut and we gave him a verbal kick in the pants. The Yule Ireland
boys seem to have taken a fancy to us and never fail to give us a "hoi". It's quite a
sight to see their dark bodies and fuzzy heads forming a deep border around the faded
suits of green, when there's a picture show on. They come from miles in all directions
and so do the soldiers. The pictures are the event of the week.
I'm picturing you this Sunday afternoon grabbing a bit of sunshine out on the back
lawn or maybe it's cold and you’re gathered around the stove talking to Willie or
hasn't he arrived yet?
Now I’ll say goodbye darling and see if I can cool off.
All my love and kisses and plenty big squeeze.
Ever your, Me.
***
May 1944
Wau: Discharge from hospital to RAP orderly, “poe-juggling
and counting down the days.
2 May 1944. On ACF letterhead, quarto sized lined pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, no visible censorship.
Dearest Marje, I’m still using the bed as a writing desk and playing cards while
waiting for my hands to lose their redness. Today I haven't got on the bandages and
I’ve been giving my skin a massage with olive oil to see if it will hurry up the process
of healing. The good food and easy time are endangering my figure I'm afraid or at
least making me fresh as a two-year-old (horse, not egg). But I get sick of being idle
just the same and being a chauffeur to the ailing would be much more preferable. Still
there's nothing to be done about it except keep myself amused until the paws are right.
How’s little Mum making out these days of waiting. Haven't heard from you for
awhile as the delivery is on the nose again. Tomorrow should bring something though
and I'll be waiting at the door for the postman. When it doesn't come in, it doesn't go
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out so don't get the wrong idea about long gaps will you?. Or you may feel
disappointed. You'll get the good news soon enough.
Out of luck with the pictures again – the machine has broken down or something so
there’ll be no circus tonight. Anyhow the weather isn't very promising and perhaps
we’ll have a show later on in the week. The mountains are cloaked with clouds and it
has been raining. It's good weather to be lounging on a bed flat out like a lizard.
Down the path there is a "boong" making a mournful sound on a bamboo whistle.
They seem to have only two notes in their musical scale which become monotonous
after awhile. One of our boys has learnt a native song though and it has a good swing
to it. The story told about it is that a party of New Guinea natives visited the Solomon
Islands and this song was written by one of them to show their appreciation of the
hospitality shown them. The only word I recognise is "bamahuda" which is the Motu
equivalent for "goodbye" and as Motu is spoken by Papuan boys and not understood
by the New Guinea native, to me the origin claimed is questionable. However, it
makes a good story and who cares anyway.
Now darling I'll say "Bamahuda " and push off in my canoe. But I'll be back with you
soon. All my love and extra specials, sweetheart wife, Your husband, Me.
***
3 May 1944. On airmail letterhead with penny stamp, in ink, with regimental number,
rank, name, unit and illegible name of censoring officer in pencil.
Dearest Sweetheart, Here I am again trying to catch up with that regular daily letter
you're been writing to me. It's hard because the ‘plane didn't come in today and I've
got to start off from scratch with nothing to separate myself from except the usual
"Hi-ya Wifie".
There’s a competition next week in applying the Thomas splint, with a good prize for
the winning team and I’ve been watching the boys doing a bit of practice. I may have
a go at it myself if I can make a team. Looks like being a pretty keen competition.
My hands have reached the "five minutes in the sun per day" stage and are looking
much healthier. I get tired of talking about them but there doesn't seem to be much
else to say so you’ll have to put up with it for awhile. To fill in the time I've been
promoted to mess orderly for the sick and ailing. That gives me a chance to slap it on
the cook for an extra tomato, occasionally.
But let's talk about you. How have you been managing my little secretary. Have you
enough to struggle along with until I can give you a hand. I had thought of increasing
your allotment but that leave has to be paid for and so I've been saving up a few
pounds. Nearly thirty "Johnny O’Goblins" in my paybook to date it and to that will be
added leave pay and sustenance money which should enable us to make whoopee for
a few days. One advantage of New Guinea is that there's not much to spend the
mazuma on. On the mainland I was nearly always "broke" and pay-day always
seemed a long way off. However if you want anything let me know and I'll write out a
cheque for you. I suppose Pattersons are still sending along the usual are they?
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Hope you're feeling well dearest and singing that song. I'm always thinking and
dreaming of you and longing to see you again.
Goodbye now sweetheart until another day. Love and special kisses and hugs. Yours
always, Me.
***
5 May 1944. On ACF, quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental number, rank,
name and unit with censorship signature appearing to be J. Howe.
Dearest Majgie, This morning the doctor said my hands are making a wonderful
recovery and in a week I'll be discharged from hospital. That's all I'm going to bore
you with this time.
Yesterday there were three letters from you April 24, 26 (26?) in which you described
a windy cold walk in the mounts and the return home. So glad there was one of my
notes to welcome you – it was the next best thing to me being actually there, I
suppose. How are you feeling after your spell – full of energy (more than usually) and
better able to wait a little longer for the "big" time?
You surprised me when you said the girls talked themselves out on those Wentworth
Falls nights. The trouble was probably that you all talked at once and used up the
conversation too quickly.
Bill Tim will be home now and giving you a bit of an ear-bashing – he's lucky to be
able to do that little thing, anyhow. I'll be caressing you with soft whispers for the first
forty days and nights, darling. It will take a long time to tell you how much I've
missed you. Bill will probably be back at the job by the time I'm on the way, which
means there'll be more days and more money to spend with you. And it may be better
in other ways so don't get discouraged sweetheart. Pross isn't fretting over having
missed out on the last batch and thinks the weather will be brighter later on.
Your report about Hoppy Poppy isn't so bright. Hope he didn't get on to Aub's brew
while you were away. That unmatured juice sure packs a kick and sneaks up on you.
One cove suggested that it was good for taking the nicotine lining off the stomach and
I think he’s right.
The dumb clucks forgot to collect the mail day before yesterday so you'll be waiting
to hear from me for a few days. I put in a couple of "extras" to try to make up though
and you'll have the pleasure of opening them but there's nothing much in them except
the familiar "hello" Darling.
You can tell Tony that his lease on the lounge is almost up and it won't be renewed
for several months, or have you other plans?
Will write again on Sunday, dear. Until then goodbye and God bless. Fondest love
and kisses, ever your own, Me.
***
347
7 May 1944. On Australian Red Cross Society letterhead, lined writing pad, in ink,
with regimental number, rank, name and unit, signed by censoring officer but
illegible.
Dearest Sweetheart, Sunday afternoon in the hills is warm with a cool breeze
blowing. Everything is quiet except for the buzzing of the flies and a mumble voices
down the other end of the hut. I've just finished an enjoyable salad lunch with extra
quality tomatoes. Doesn't that make your mouth water? Old Spinello would charge
5/6d per llb. for these little beauts. Around the camp there are tomato plants that have
gone wild and they are covered with fruit (?) about the size of pigeon eggs and I often
have a good feed of them.
That reminds me of Jack Benny's Victory Garden report. He says, "My potato crop
turned out well. Some are as big as marbles, some as big as peas and of course there
are quite a few little ones". ("Digest").
The best part of the day came when Pross handed me two of your letters, April 28 –
29 and May 1. I always get a lift when I see your writing.
You know, this life of ease is giving me a rubber tyre and it might be necessary for
me to join your physical jerks class to get back my schoolboy figure. Haven't weighed
myself yet but it is odds-on that the pointer will swing up at least six pounds.
I had a strange dream the other night – right out of the blue. Pross and I went down to
some baths which seemed to be a combination of those at the Valley Brisbane and
Manly pool. I had forgotten to take my trunks but fortunately found a pair of Speedos
(free ad.) lying in a cubicle. Cutting a dashing figure I dove in the water and decided
to swim over to the beach to investigate charms of a lovely creature sitting with a
party of ladies on deck chairs and chatting away. Completely "knocked" I sneaked up
alongside her chair, winked at the large lady opposite and spread myself on the sand
in a position where I could observe the expressions on this beautiful girl's face
without attracting her attention. When she had finished speaking she felt that all eyes
were on her and a slight blush crept over her face. Then her eyes began to sparkle and
I could see by her expression a realization coming to her mind. She turned her face
slowly sideways and noticed me. Her eyes flashed as we both stood up and she said
quietly, "Hello darling!" I took her in my arms and then – a blackout. You'll see the
"vision" (blonde) in the mirror at 27 Collingwood Street any time and if you care to
stroll over to Huntley's Point sometime you'll find the other character of my dream.
That scene must have taken less than 30 seconds to enact but it just shows you how
vivid are even my subconscious thoughts.
So glad to hear that my little "once in awhile" is enjoying better health and is
regaining her curvaceous curves again. We must roll around the floor together
sometime.
I haven't heard any mention of Mac's unit in my travels so far. Hope he gets down to
be with his wife. It must be a big comfort to have your own near you at times like
that. Poor Joyce has had a bad spin, hasn't she?
348
And now that I've opened up the fourth page I’ll have to put in a Bob Hope story to
get down to the bottom. Bob is attending a luncheon given in his honour by members
of the Cleveland Chamber of Commerce. As you may or may not know, Bob is an
officer of the Hope Metal Products Co. of Cleveland.
"The Hope Metal Products Company" says he in reply to the toast "is doing well. You
know those big bombers with the large wingspan. We make the clips that keep the
blueprints together".
The telling of that story was interrupted by the appearance of three "Lightnings"
doing aerobatics over the valley but I trust it made the grade.
Goodbye for now, darling girl and may all your dreams be merry and bright. An extra
big helping of love and kisses and hugs to you. As always, Your, Me.
***
9 May 1944. On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, in ink, with, regimental
number, rank, name and unit stamped externally as “Passed by censor 50".
Dearest Sweetheart, I'm out writing paper so you're getting a card in answer to your
four-pager of May 3. Bill's arrival has pushed the home morale up to the top rungs
judging by your remarks. Anne and Susanne will have to get used to that strange man
around the place but I suppose they are thrilled with their "new" Daddy.
There seems to be quite a mixed feeling about Darwin. Some say it will do them, and
others wouldn't have it on again if they could get out of it. A number of the troops
here have been up there as well as overseas. The M.E. was the best time of their lives
some of them claim. Personally I'm all for a good steady job where I can rake up
enough dough to tour the globe at ease.
Bill should be able to wangle a few extra days before going back. There are a lot of
wrinkles of which special attention is given by the lads on leave – main thing is to
miss the draft without them realising it. Bad luck we didn't get home together but
perhaps it's just as well. There mightn't be enough to satisfy two healthy thirsts.
Beer is to be available to troops in N.G. from August 1 – two bottles per week per
man. Provided the non-drinkers don't take up the filthy habit that ration should run to
a noisy party once a month. I hope that I can read about the lovely times the boys in
far off outposts are having.
It's after lunch and I'm lolling on the bed in pajamas with a cool breeze tickling the
hairs on my back. From this distance, there is nothing to indicate that you should
expect me to look very much thinner – except the thatch on top. I'm feeling well and
looking well and even my hands are doing fine.
How's the world treating you darling?
Your letter certainly reflects the happiness of seeing Willie and I can imagine your
thoughts that it will be your turn next. Keep up the old spirit and the time won't take
long to pass.
349
I thought of your yellow socks when I read the reports that Sydney is having a very
cold snap.
Next time I'll have some sheets of paper so until then, ‘bye ‘bye t dearest and God
bless. Your own, Me
PS. There's always enough space to include love and kisses and hugs, isn't there? G.
***
10 May 1944. On airmail Lettercard with penny stamp, in ink, with, regimental
number, rank, name and unit stamped externally as “Passed by censor 50".
Dearest Marjorie, I've spent most of the afternoon reading a condensed version of
"Happy Land" – a war story without a lot of sordidness. It's worth reading if you
happen to see it around. A small town drug-store man loses his son in naval
operations in the Pacific and takes it very badly until his long-dead Granpa returns
and takes him for a stroll through his life and convinces him the sacrifice was not in
vain. The son's best friend on leave comes to visit the couple and in some measure
makes up their loss. Not a very exciting story but quite a different angle from the
current crop.
Thought I'd drop you a line while waiting for kai, which is on in about twenty minutes
or so.
Young Bruce's letter arrived in today's mail. Had to smile when I read "I suppose
you've already been told that Sue doesn't like her father" or something along those
lines. And then "PS. I still work at the grocer’s". He’s a funny kid. I'd like to get him a
souvenir of some kind but there isn't anything to buy -- perhaps I may think of
something later.
We all went to the pictures last night and saw "The Adventures of Tartu" with Robert
Donat. A good show particularly as it was made in England. There were a few
“Superman" incidents in it but the suspense made them enjoyable.
Col hasn't arrived back yet as far as I know but it's a probability, I believe.
Frank Starr is anxious to go on leave with Pross and myself so we’ll be staging a party
if it comes off. Have no idea when that will be though but it should be "in the winter
when I bring the spring to you", darling.
Life in the tropics continues to crawl along pleasantly and we’re still getting plenty of
tomatoes. I never get tired of them.
And that's about all I can find to write about it until I receive your letter tomorrow
(hope). So cheerio now sweetheart. Love to all but the extra special part and kisses are
just for you. As ever, Your, Me
PS. This is me last penny stamp you will get a letter next time I hope.
***
350
12 May 1944. On ACF letterhead, small writing pad, in ink, with regimental number,
rank, name and unit with initials of censoring officer, BEH.
Dearest Sweetheart, I'm expecting a letter from you this morning as the plane has
arrived but it won't be along for a while so I'll fill in the time scratching a few lines
about nothing.
The Major looked at me this morning and said he’s another one cured with whom we
can do nothing. Meaning that it's better for me to continue living in these
surroundings until all risk of a recurrence has disappeared. Things are quiet so nobody
has to work any harder because of my non-cooperation.
Had a narrow squeak the other day. I tripped over a telephone wire hidden by grass
and nearly went under a 3 tonner Fortunately it was moving very slowly and the
driver was able to pull up in time. My chief concern was for my hands. I had my rain
cape around my shoulders and it saved me from getting a "gravel rash". Barring a
couple of small scratches there was no damage done, thank heavens.
Pross is going out on a job today and I suppose he won't be in for a few days. He won
the singles champ at Circlos and went close in the doubles. Of course I couldn't play
but that didn't make much difference to the results, I'm sure. Might have had a chance
with him in the doubles – we’re not a bad combination.
News from overseas is heartening and the N G campaign is almost finished except for
the mopping up which will take some time I suppose owing to the conditions. There
were remarkably few casualties among the Yanks at Hollandia – only 28 killed and
about 100 wounded considering the number of Japs still in those areas it's about the
most successful campaign they’ve struck so far. Up above Madang, the Aussies are
going ahead slowly and only those who have seen the mud and slush of NG can
realise what they are going through. The infantry should be the highest paid men in
the services in my opinion---nothings too good for them.
How’s my little Mum getting along on the home front? Hope Sydney’s cold weather
isn’t freezing you out. The fuel position is pretty serious, isn’t it? Wonder how the
miners would like to change places with the footsloggers.
Will finish now, dearest and chase up my mail. Be with you again soon so keep up
the old chin. Love and extra big kisses and hug. As always,, Your, George.
***
14 May 1944. On ACF letterhead, small writing pad, in ink, with regimental number,
rank, name and unit censored by Capt JJ Cuff.
Dearest Sweetheart, I hadn't heard from you for a few days and although the plane
came in today they said it didn't carry any mail. However a couple of minutes ago
Frank came down with a letter from you, and everything is hunky-dory again. This
one is dated May 9 and the last one I received was May 3, so evidently there are a few
still on the way. I bet yours from me is all mucked up to.
351
It's a hot day here and my washing is finished and out on the line. I'm still in pajamas
and taking it easy but this life is very boring so tomorrow I'll see about getting back
on the job. Time is the only thing that can do anything for my hands and I may as well
spend doing a bit of driving. Every day the skin is getting stronger so there shouldn't
be much signs of the complaint by the time I get back to my little grass shack at 27.
Surprised to hear Fred Naughton is back – he wasn't here very long was he? The
climate knocks the old body around and the food until recently wasn’t exactly the
same as the "Australia" puts on. After a few weeks down there, Fred should be okay
and able to swallow a noggin or two of the nectar of the gods. Comparatively we are
well off now and things are different from the time when the cook-house call was "for
those who don't like beans, mess is over". I'm putting on weight quickly I know and
feeling good or rather “good-oh".
You'll probably be seeing Wally Pyne in the course of the next fortnight. He said he
more than likely see you in the shop. If he doesn't actually see you he'll tell "Nid"
anything of interest. He hasn't any personal messages and his guess about leave is as
good as anybody's – it just can't be forecast. You never want a bank on Army
calculations – they’re not worth a cracker. Your best bet is to wait until you get a wire
saying we’re almost home – before you start to let your back hair down.
I owe Mitch and Hillary a letter – think I'll send them both and airgraph which is now
available to us. They must be o.k. or we would have heard by this time. Mitchell's
three years is up so he may be coming back this year and I should think the little
Admiral has a fair chance too. Do you ever see any of the Kolts – haven't heard of
Trevor for months.
Bill won't like going back to Darwin after his holiday but if it's only for a short time it
won't be so bad. It's about time the units were changed around a bit instead of some
having the plums all the way. My greatest ambition is to be catching the 8.15 train
every morning and living like a human being once more. Touring at six bob a day
doesn't appeal to me at all.
That about finishes my chat for today, darling. Hope you're well and are still my
happy little corpuscle. I've got a new song for the bathroom so you be able to stand by
and get a little pink earful.
My fondest love and kisses with extra big hugs chucked in for good measure. Always
Your, Me.
***
15 May 1944. Airmail Lettercard stamped “Postage Paid”, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name, unit and external censorship stamp.
Dearest Marjorie, The mailbags were left behind today so I have nothing to answer in
the way of letters from you. Didn't get discharged from hospital but I'll be out
tomorrow and very glad to be, too.
352
I meant to ask you to send your photograph sweetheart. It should reach here a week or
so after you post it, provided you send it airmail registered. If you pack it in a strong
envelope with light cardboard for protection it should carry well. In fact they think if
you just put it in a good envelope it would be okay travelling by airmail
I haven't seen Pross for a couple of days but he may be back shortly. He’s out at a
"crook" spot where there are plenty of mozzies and heat – hope he doesn't cop the bug
again.
"Ding" is back on the island but not here. He may come later and give me an earful of
his doings on leave.
Old Frank is still buzzing around in his truck getting the wood and talking about the
good time he’s going to have when he gets home with his "Jacky".
I don't know where Joe Young is but I heard that he had a rough time with malaria
some months ago. It's a long time since all the no-hopers were together but it may not
be long now before there's a round-up.
The picture show is on tomorrow night and we’re praying the blasted thing arrives in
good order. It's about the only diversion we get in these parts and only thing worth
leaving the hospital grounds to see. The boys have a game of "Housie" two or three
times a week and play "circlos", otherwise there is nothing doing. I've been
specialising in Bridge and Chess lately to fill in time. The "library" is worth
mentioning but they don't change the books they change the patients. That means I’ve
read everything until the next batch of papers come.
Goodbye now darling girl, meet you in the same old place tonight when I'm "thinkin’
oh my darling luv of thee”. Love and kisses with all the trimmings, ever your, Me.
***
17 May 1944. On ACF letterhead small writing pad, in ink, with regimental number,
rank, name and unit bearing name of censoring officer in pencil but illegible.
Dearest Sweetheart, Over there the radio is struggling out a song and it sounds worse
than our gramophone with the old records. Frank's alongside me scratching away and
there are about a dozen in the mess hut with heads bent over writing pads. That's just
to tell you I'm out of hospital and once again on the job. Not the same job, though.
Petrol and grease and trucks are now my pet aversion so I'm undergoing a period of
instruction in the use of salves and tonics etc. in the R A P. -- the place you saw
pictured in the paper sometime ago.
Pross sent a message saying he is okay and is satisfied with his new surroundings. I
haven't been out there yet but I believe it's hot and the mozzies don't let up during the
24 hours of the day – sort of shift work, a fresh batch takes over at dusk and does the
night work.
353
There wasn't any mail on the plane today so that means I haven't heard from you since
your letter of May 3 except for the "quickie" on May 9. Tomorrow should bring forth
something – I hoping anyway.
The time seems to be dragging but the extra days of leave are piling up and at the
moment stand at 48. And forty-eight days plus, are going to be the sweetest of my
life. With these coves coming back from leave we hear a lot about Sydney and it
makes us envious but up our sleeves there's the feeling that we're glad our time has
come. And that's a good feeling.
The picture show came to light last night with "Flying Tigers" and a "News from
Home" gazette. Not bad for a break. I think if they showed the world' worst movie
here we’d think it was good. So don't take any notice of my recommendations.
Frank's moaning about not having anything to write about and he doesn't write nearly
as much as I do – that’s how stuck we are.
Well, let's hope that something happens tomorrow and then you'll get more pages. I'll
sign off now Darling and listen to the radio for a few minutes before turning in.
Take good care of yourself and keep on dreaming your little dreams. I'll be looking
for you in the same place sweetheart and wondering what you are doing. A big lot of
love and kisses and hugs, as always, Your, Me.
PS. No trouble to picture the gas-fire at Nortoft tonight.
***
19 May 1944 On ACF Letterhead, small writing pad , in ink, with regimental number,
rank, name and unit, with a censor’s signature in pencil but not legible.
Dearest Sweetheart, The silence of a few days was broken this morning by your letter
of May 10 which, as you can see, was a bit overdue. And I'm still waiting for some
that must've been written before that date. Dulcie's letter, written the same day was
with it so I've got the news from two angles. Glad to hear you both had a good party
on the back lawn and a few sips of tea between the chin-wags. Suppose Dad finds it
hard to get a word in edgeways these days but still comes in when the cups start to
rattle.
I'm orderly corporal tonight – first time in about two months and it's a good
opportunity to get down to writing. The orderly room is quiet and there usually aren't
many interruptions. My hands are in pretty good shape and the inner-man is feeling
catered for so all in all time marches on comfortably at least.
Pross has been back for a couple of days and is well. Says he be glad to pull out again.
There’s a lot to be said about being away with the detachment even though the
location mightn't be the best.
I'm happy to hear you feel ten years younger, old lady. When we take another ten off
for that leave you wont even be born. Of course that glorious holiday is always
topmost in my mind and I can't help referring to it so often.
354
You can tell Dulce that she can write as often as she likes – I don't guarantee always
to answer on the dot but she'll get blow for blow eventually. It doesn't matter where I
am or what the conditions as long as the letters from home come along things are
much brighter.
Sue's lucky to get a winter suit with all the rationing – and such a lovely Auntie to
make it for her, too. How is Bill getting on with her? Does he have to do many
picquets in the early hours of the morning? His leave must be petering out now and I
suppose he’s not looking forward to the last day – best to forget it until the time
comes I should imagine. Maybe I ought not to have mentioned it.
Say – if you can't get a couple of those magic carpets you might send me one. I could
do with some fried eggs and toast. Also peanuts and beer (such common taste).
Whenever I think of Orlando's I always think of a "symphony in Pink". I wonder if
my alley is still good with Orlando ,or will I have to make overtures to Gwen. Wally
will probably call in at the Oxford and I told him to be sure to give my kind regards to
the little lady in case I have any difficulties in that direction. Really it doesn't worry
me but at least one party would be nice, wouldn't it?
Last night there was a game of "Housie" on and I "did" five and sixpence without
looking like winning. It seems I’ve struck a bad batch of luck just recently so in future
I’ll stick to chess or bridge. And that finishes my chatter for tonight night, darling
We’ll have to postpone Mother's party but not for long, I hope. Cheer up, and don't
get too lonesome and soon we’ll be listening to the little clock ticking away the
minutes, together, sweetheart. Give the family my love and keep the biggest lsice for
yourself. Kisses with a big hug from, Your husband, George
PS remember the glow of the Essie on cold winter nights – Dad never knew we had
her flat out, did he?
***
21 May 1944. On Australian Red Cross Society writing pad paper, in ink, with
regimental number, rank, name and unit, with censor officer’s signature in pencil but
not legible.
Dearest Sweetheart,
It's about 7:30 PM, Sunday Night, and coming up to the hut I was wondering how to
start my letter to you. It was going to be something like "I haven't heard from you for
ages". But I wanted some stamps so I strolled up to the postal room. Well, you could
have knocked me down with a feather when Frank handed me two envelopes with a
very familiar handwriting. These are the ones that have been on the way for so long
and although they are airmail letters I'll bet dollars to donuts they came by the sea
route. The dates are May 5 and May 7. No wonder the Post Office can show a profit
of more than six million a year. The CO received a cable be other day "via [ ???
illegible]" – it cost seven shillings for sixteen words and arrived about the same day
as a letter written within a day of the acceptance of the cable. You can tell Dad to ask
Mr Greig 33what he’s going to do about it – the service is definitely on the schnozola
355
and they’re taking money under full pretences. Now that I've got that off my chest
let’s get down to more pleasant topics.
It was bad luck about Dad's not being able to get his four ounces of tobacco – never
mind he can have some of my ration when the time comes. O.K.?
Frank Starr and I went down to the cemetary this afternoon. Quite a fair step but the
shower, when we got back, made it feel extra good. We also called in at the YMCA
hut and had a game of billiards on a camp-fashioned table. Cemetaries and billiards
don’t go together but that's how it was. Last night the usual gathering took place and
everyone obliged with a song or a story – including Pross and myself. We have now
added a mandolin to our band and there is a steel guitar in course of manufacture –
being made from half a kerosene tin. Looks like we'll be having a full orchestra before
we're finished.
Pross left today and I won't be seeing him for awhile. He seemed happy to get on the
move again. Which reminds me I must write to Mother tonight too.
There's not much to say in regard to my hands which have been causing you some
worry. They are coming along as well as can be expected in New Guinea.
You’ll hardly notice that there’s been anything wrong with them when you see them
I told you I'm working in the RAP for a few weeks didn't I? It's a change from playing
nurse-maid to a truck and a clean job. Later on you’ll be able to call me Nurse
Seagrove as, I understand I have to do nursing orderlies’ work. Perhaps I'll be glad to
get back to my "Jumping Jeep" but the change suits me, at present.
You mightn't remember what you said about the weather in this May 5 letter but in
case you do– I'd love to keep you company especially when Norma and Bruce would
be thinking they were getting the best of it. Remember how we often used to smile
about the good times they were having?
I was a bit anxious when you have that burn. Up here a burn can easily turn into
something more serious if not carefully treated. We’ll have to have some more of
those special hair-dos when we can get around to it – you betcha, those days will
come again.
Tony appears to be well on the mend now – give my love to them both and say how
pleased I am to hear his sight is so much better. Your aunt must be feeling easier, too.
And then there's Old Cissy giving your ears a bashing again. You ought to arrange for
Lucy to arrive on the same day – and watch the sparks fly. Anyhow next time
you see Ciss, Bruce can take my loving kiss. What was it Betty used say, – something
about a withered peach, wasn't it?
Surprised to hear Jim Driscoll is donning civvies once more. How did he manage
sixty days leave?
I can almost feel your arm in mind when you say it like that – can you imagine what
people will think when we don’t even notice them? Now its time to say goodbye
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darling girl. Until another day, my fondest love and kisses with a good old cuddle up
as always. Me.
P.S. Another kiss herewith to keep you going, sweetheart. G.
***
22 May 1944. On ACF Letterhead quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, censored by Captain Clipsham.
Hello Yourself Darling, And thanks for supplying me with five letters in less than 18
hours. The three which came this morning were dated May 11, 13 and 15 and it
doesn't matter about the numbering.
You seem to have been getting mine in large hunks, too. Glad to hear they give you a
lift even if there isn't any news in them. Just reading a cheery "hello" is worthwhile
isn't it.
The Army Education Service is conducting a discussion in this hut tonight so I'll
probably have to break off halfway through this and resume later. As far as I know at
present, the debate is on "What we are fighting for". I have definite ideas on the
subject but if they change my mind, I'll let you know.
Now we come to the financial page. Don't worry your pretty little head about saving
the Johnny O’Goblins, dear, and dip into the old oak chest as often as you like, but be
sure you have everything you want. I don't want you to stint yourself for necessities
when there isn't any need to. When I come down on leave I'll increase your allotment
because it's not much use to me in camp. In the meantime, the credit side of my
paybook is increasing and it's going to be useful for all those lovely days. Bad luck
GPs didn't come across with a dividend this year – I suppose it was a bit too much to
expect but don't forget the Trust Fund is being added to each year at least that was the
original idea. No doubt there will be a statement on the position before long.
You can tell Dad right now that he’s coming off the "wagon" when his old side-kick
gets his feet on the brass rail. I won't allow him to do any damage to his good
resolutions and a "once in a while" won't affect his "rheumy".
Miss Anne is fast getting out of the baby stage when she is beginning to think about
presents for Mother’s Day and writing little messages. It won't be long before she's
telling everyone that she is Sues big sister and fighting her battles for her. I wonder if
she'll remember me.
My memory for birthday dates is very poor. Give my best wishes to Norma for May
14 will you, Darling and tell her I’ll make up to her when we meet again. That oughta
slay her. We’ll have to make a combined birthday cake and catch up on the
haymaking.
Darling, you make me blush with your remarks about my satin smooth hands
(borrowed from Palmolive ads) but it's o.k. with me, O.K.? More about that later.
357
The picture unit will be here tomorrow night – partly the reason for my writing this
note tonight. I can't miss out on that treat.
You must be careful, after your blood donation, dear. You’re an old stager now, I
know but please don't overdo it. By this time it will be a thing of the past to you.
However I'll be waiting for a few days to hear how you are and wondering how you
made out.
(The business is about to begin – will finish after it's over)
LATER (9:30 PM). Well that's that. And the meeting has decided that we are fighting
for things as they were before the war with many improvements. In other words we've
got to get together and take an active part in public affairs.
It was also decided to hold another debate in which Frank Starr and myself will affirm
"that extensive immigration of European orphans will benefit Australia". Frank put
me in for the job but I don't know how I'll go.
Before I close and like to comment on Aub’s Mandrake – my suggestion is that if he
thinks it a good idea why not persuade Mrs Mandrake to cooperate.
Good night now, sweetheart wife and God bless. I'll be back soon. All my love and
plenty of those extra big hugs and kisses. As always, Your, Me.
***
24 May 1944. On ACF Letterhead quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, censored by Captain J Wright.
Dearest Sweetheart, Chief event that has occurred since my last letter was the picture
show last night "Johnny come lately". After being told it was a lousy picture by others
who had seen it previously I was agreeably surprised to find that I enjoyed it very
much. Cagney used to give me a pain in the neck but he’s a good actor and in this
he’s at his best. In fact even the minor roles are well done and there's plenty of action.
You may have seen "Johnny C L" but if you haven't its worth a couple of bob.
That sort of clears up the week's movie.
Frank is in hospital for a couple of days with some internal trouble. He has just
walked in to show me a letter from Ding Dong. Col tells about the marvellous time he
had on leave and finishes up by saying that the best sight he has seen in many months
was the view of Moresby – from the stern of the ship when he was going down.
Alan Willoughby is also in the big bird-cage, with dermatitis on his legs. He ought to
be safe for some weeks – he firmly believes the complaint will be gone by the end of
the week. Well, we'll see. I thought the same about my hands.
LATER. Prossie is here tonight full of beans and he will probably be a fixture here in
a week or so.
I am still battling along in the R.A.P. slapping on a bit of zinc crème, taking
temperatures etc and learning the job in general. It's not a difficult task as the MO
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always gives instructions as to what is to be used and how. So far I haven't used an
hypodermic syringe but that may come later. Whacko when someone has to be a
pincushion for me, for a change.
The orderly room tonight is full of the "great public" placing on record its approval or
disapproval of N S Wales government. We have heard very little of the State's
government in N.G. so that we hardly know what to do about it. However as the ALP
is in power in the Federal field there doesn't seem much point in throwing too much
opposition into picture at this stage. My vote goes to Greig -- how did you and the
folks vote?
I am anxiously awaiting to hear how you feel after your umpteenth blood transfusion,
darling. Do hope you are taking good care of yourself. There is some guy who is
going to be awfully lucky getting such good healthy material to keep him going.
Now it's time to say goodbye again sweetheart. Until I write again my fondest love
and kisses and hugs thrown in for good measure. Ever your loving husband. George.
***
26 May 1944. On ACF Letterhead quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, censored by Captain Clipsham.
Dearest Sweetheart, Its fish day again – another week almost finished and another
month on its last legs. What will June bring forth I wonder. This marking time is very
tiresome and you must be sick of me building your hopes up and then dashing them
down. Still I only try to give you the feeling of the moment and you shouldn't place
too much confidence in anything you hear these days. It seems there's a new pastime
in the Army – start as many rumours as you can and see how far they will spread. One
gets very cynical of everything after a while.
The mail position isn't so good and the radio is our only means of hearing what's
going on within a reasonable time. If they don't bring in a plane tomorrow with a big
bundle of letters for me on it, I'll get annoyed with them.
How are you "soldiering on "in Sydney's cold winter without much coke for the
Esse?. The miners must be having a tough time earning £15-£20 a week. I saw where
one lot went on strike because a boy had lost a pair of boots or something. Pity you
didn't hang on to that big pile of wood from the old Pepper tree – that would have
come in handy just now.
Tonight we are having an unusual visitor – a civilian and he'll be dressed in his
national costume, I believe. He's going to tell us all about the areas around us and
what went on before the war. I'll tell him to collect a lot of mates and we’ll be willing
to hand it over to them, free of cost, including all the bugs and wogs and snakes.
Last night we "killed" another lovely big green and black snake on the path – and this
morning he’s still alive. There are dozens of them about the place and scarcely a week
passes without someone killing one or two. The "boongs” have been clearing the land
and burning off the grass so I suppose the fire is driving them out into the open.
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Pross received a letter from Cec the other day and he says he saw one of the boys on
the last leave batch. I expect you heard what he had to say. His idea is about as good
as anyone's. Keep your fingers crossed, darling.
And that about finishes me for this time, matey. Paper is at low ebb and I'll have to
see the YM bloke for some more. Goodbye again darling with all my love and kisses
and hugs. As always, Your own, Me.
PS. How's your blood building up, hon. George.
***
28 May 1944. On ACF Letterhead quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, censored by Captain J Wright.
Dearest Sweetheart, Here I am again on the end of a quill with a headache worrying
out something to write about. That mail of yours hasn't turned up yet so I have
nothing to bite on.
Pross and I have been for a walk across the Valley this afternoon to look up an old pal
Jack O'Brien (Cec knows him) and he has been telling us some of his experiences. He
looks old and tired out but he has a cold so I suppose that has something to do with it.
Like the rest of us he's looking forward to his leave to brighten up things.
Joe is back with us, all bronzed and feeling fit. He hardly remembers that he has had
twenty-four days at home as it was so long ago. I wonder what he thinks we feel like.
The old Frank met with an accident yesterday. There was a bit of a fire around the
petrol drums and he tried to toss out a four-gallon drum which was alight. The petrol
must have spilled on to his hands and arms and he got a few nasty burns. Fortunately
he had the presence of mind to dash his hands in the dirt to put out the flames. Then
he rushed into the shed and drove out two Jeeps. If he had been an American he
probably would have been awarded a Purple Heart or something. The main thing
though is, apart from the shock and a pair of painful hands, he is okay. I had to cut up
his tea last night and feed him – he told me to tell you that.
The Bridge game showed good results at the last session – we won by fifteen hundred
points and they have challenged us to another game tonight.
Things in the entertainment line are starting to hum now. On Friday night we had a set
of drums, squeeze-box, violin and mouth organ band to kick up a noise. During the
week they are getting together again and putting on a show. We’ll probably get a
couple of pictures too and there’s an amplifier around the place somewhere with some
records to play. If they do much more for us we won't want to come home – Oh no.
Your bundle of magazines (Pix, World News, WW etc) came on the convoy today.
We were getting low on reading matter but now we have enough to keep us going for
weeks. Thanks darling. Smith's Weekly are still sending them along but the issues are
well-dated by the time they get here. Haven't heard from the office for some
considerable time – suppose they are all flat out as usual.
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My hands are mending as well as can be expected and I keep at them continuously
with zinc creme. They are dry enough but the redness persists – looks like a job for
your cooking. Otherwise the body's okay. As a matter of fact the tucker here lately
has been "extra good", for the army. There’s a cooking school trying out their arts on
us.
Hope you're well, sweetheart and also the family. Atta girl. Be with you again in a
day or two – for now, all my love and kisses and extra special hugs. As always, Your
loving husband, George.
***
30 May 1944 On ACF Letterhead quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, censored by Captain J R Elliott NX144824.
Dearest Sweetheart, I've got to start off with the old moan – "no mail again". It must
be years since I heard from you. Not much use asking how you are is it, but I hope
you're well, darling. Haven't heard how you got on with the transfusion yet so I'll be a
bit relieved when your letters arrive. Tomorrow there should be about twenty bags of
mail for us – I hope.
We had a picture show in the hospital grounds last night which is something that suits
us right down to the ground. A theatre in your backyard – can Norma imagine that?
It's better than having to worry about taxis.
The film was "The Powers' Girl", George Murphy with Ann Shirley and Carol Landis
and it was just a show. Benny Goodman's band sounded like a third-rater. The
comedy was fair and the songs not bad, but out of New Guinea, nobody would double
up on it.
Tonight in another area they are showing "Crazy House" and of course, we’ll be there.
That will give me something to write about in case the mail is still in the blue.
Frank's burns were pretty severe but he is okay. He has his hands bandaged to the
elbows and looks something like I did for six weeks. I think he'll be out of hospital in
a couple of weeks.
Pross and I are both well and getting plenty of good tucker. We’ve had fresh butter
and meat for quite awhile now and today, an apple each came to light, which is all
good for the body.
Joe has been unpacking his mementos and talking fast and long. The old Joe is still
the same. He tells me young Warwick Joseph is almost a man now.
Later.
I'm continuing after tea darling and a pretty fair one to – but the truck is waiting to
take us over to the screen so I'll have to leave you for another day.
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Keep the old chin up, old girl and you'll soon be tearing off a strip of that joy we were
talking about. Give my love to Mum, Pop, Norma and all the family. And for yourself
take a few big hugs and a kiss from, Your loving husband, Me.
PS. Sorry this note is scratchy – maybe I'll do better next time. G.
***
June 1944.
Wau: RAP Ward orderly, Kim Patterson pow, rats and diversions.
1 June 1944. On ACF Letterhead quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, censored by signature in pencil but illegible.
Dearest Sweetheart, The usual mess hut racket is going on around me tonight. The
radio is blaring and there's a game of "Housie" in progress. This warning in case my
letter is worse than the ones that have been going to you recently. Heaven forbid.
I have just heard that Labor was returned at the NSW elections, which shows how far
I am behind on news. Haven't seen a Guinea Gold in over a week. Perhaps they've
printed something that may be of value to the enemy and the Japs around here might
get hold of it.
60, 67, 50 71, – Oh, no. I shouldn't have written that. It's the "housie" game. But I
haven't discussed the weather lately have I? Well surprisingly enough it's been dry
although we had a shower before tea. There's no shortage of water however as the fast
running creek down in the gully gets its water from the hills where it’s always raining.
If only we had a beach and some blondes – one certain one would do me.
Pross is behind me, scratching away – he must be telling someone a great story.
And that reminds me – can you tic this yarn. A sedate middle-aged man joined a Club
and was making the acquaintance of a fellow member. After some talk the old
member asked, "Care for a whiskey and soda".
"No thanks," replied the new cove, "I tried one once and I didn't like it". They
continued their conversation again and a little later a cigar was produced by the old
member who enquired "Care for a smoke, John?"
"No thanks, George", said John, "I smoked one once and I didn't like it", and they
resumed their talking. Presently George the old member asked would he care for a
game of billiards.
"No thanks", John said "I played a game once but I didn't like it". Just then his son
walked in and he went on "Here’s my son, he'll play you". "He's your only child, I
presume”, remarked George.
A bit subtle and not very well told but I hope you get it. I heard another very smart
one today but I’ll keep until another time in case I have some space to fill up.
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How are you darling? Keep the old coke oven going for a while longer dearest, the
good times aren't far off.
The radio listeners and the housie players are at cross swords. Both sides claim they
can’t hear and I can’t concentrate because of the row so I'll call it off for this time.
In the meantime look after yourself and start yodelling in the bathroom. All my best
love and kisses and lots of hugs sweetheart. Always your own, Me.
***
2 June 1944. On ACF Letterhead quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, censored by Captain Clipsham.
Dearest Maggie, Hats are in the air today. The mail's arrived! Four letters for me
from my darling and the dates are May17, 19, 20, 23. Of course, I'm happy to know
you are well and not feeling any effects from your last transfusion. I was beginning to
think they’d pumped you dry – you can tell them they'll have to excuse you next time.
And keep out of the rain ‘cos I don't want a sick girl on my hands.
Listen, there's no reason why you should chill out in the cold breakfast room when
you are writing to me. Just boot Norm and Bruce over onto the lounge with a rug and
drag up a pew in front of the fire. I'm sure that would suit them much better, too.
Norma's change of job is a grand idea in my opinion – she'll be a new woman in no
time. That frowsy lot of intellectuals must have jarred her nerves "something awful".
With Guy to help her she should fit into her new surroundings quickly.
That date for "Hello, Frisco” is okay with me – you can shout me then buy me a beer
beforehand. I won't mind you lulling me to sleep with your new song.
It's just as well Bill looked after you – we’ll have to lug that Thummler woman
around with us now I suppose. The old Liz still likes a bit of a flutter from all
accounts. Anyhow, I've promised to give three blondes a goodo time and they can
count on me to come up to scratch when the time comes
This waiting seems to make the time drag but there's always the thought of our
meeting to brighten up the picture. I've often seen myself walking down the street
with you on my arm and you always looked happy, too. Twelve years is a long time
for two people to feel that way about each other isn't it – and "they "say it only
happens in story-books.
I can't tell you anything about my leave, sweetheart, except that I missed out on the
last lot so my chances for the next batch should be pretty bright. Better see your
dressmaker about your suit, you'll need it to get around. Gosh I'll feel that I'm out of
the Army with almost a couple of months leave.
Two more of the lads arrived back from Sydney today and they tell me it's quite a
nice place for a holiday. Bradshaw went home from Moresby with tinea on his feet
363
and they were better by the time he arrived. So he had a pleasant month’s
convalescence leave – some guys get some wonderful breaks, don't they. He’s also
had his twenty-four days and still has as many, in his book.
I haven't answered Bruce Howe's letter yet – can't rake up enough nonsense to write
him at present. Will try to get down to it next week.
The office bulletin came in today's mail and Lionel tells the story of the woman who
came into hospital to have her 16th child. After the blessed event the doctor pleasantly
remarked "I suppose we'll be seeing you again in six to eight months time". "Oh no!"
came the decisive reply, "you see me and me husband have found out what's causing
it."
There was no mention of Kim Patterson so I presume nothing further has been heard
of him.34 They couldn't expect to hear anything for some months anyhow.
Thanks for Auntie Ciss's kisses – the poor old dear should be practising on Tony for
when I can give her a break.
Over in the mess hut the local band is "cuttin’ the rug" and tonight a piano has been
added. I think I'll go get an earful and leave your May 23 letter until next time.
Entertainment is a novelty around these parts and it keeps us from going completely
"troppo".
Be with you with yellow socks on, darling sweetheart, so don't let the blues get you
down. With all my love and kisses and extra big hugs, as always, Your husband,
George.
***
3 June 1944. On ACF Letterhead quarto sized writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit censored by Capt JJ Cuff.
.
Dearest Sweetheart, Yesterday I had reached your letter of May 23 when I decided to
"kiss ‘em" music in the mess hut. Not a bad night for a change. Pross and Bob tried to
add the trimmings and spent a good deal of the late hours hanging over the banana
palm but not me – I'm too "shrewd”, or am I?
Glad to know that you're feeling so well and that the transfusion businesses went off
without any trouble. You are doing plenty to help things along, dear – there's no need
to worry on that score. According to what I hear about the women's services it's just
one big long holiday with free fares. Su Callan, Elizabeth Gellert and Penny Shane
certainly seem to feel that way at about their jobs anyway. I read in Guinea Gold that
the manpower authorities have been encroaching on civilian rights by ordering
women to work in canneries and other private enterprises. Those lasses who were
taken out of offices and shops to work in factories have something to kick about, I
think. The women's services volunteered to win the war so why not give them a flutter
at the "dirty" jobs instead of having them march around in pretty uniforms, carrying
364
flags. Mind you I realise that some of them are doing essential work but there'll be a
hell of a lot of them who have never been so well off in their lives.
Apropo the pink gown – you'll be shaking out the mothballs before the winter is over
because I'll be needing my woolly one.
(There's a guy chewing gum opposite me, wouldn't it rock yer?)
We've been playing cricket all day and tonight I feel as though I've been on the wrack.
That's the first exercise I’ve had in two months and it takes a bit to get back into
condition. Just before the game started the plane came in and on it were your three
letters dated May 25, 27 and 29. And I'm feeling extra happy. Also there was an
airgraph from Mitch who says he expects to be back by September. Wouldn't it be
great if he arrives while I'm on leave? Tomorrow I'll send an airgraph letter to Mitch
and Hughie, then I'll send this one on to you.
Sydney weather certainly seems to have gone to the dogs – fogs, rain and cold. It's
hard to imagine what it feels like to be wrapped up in heavy clothing after having
spent eighteen months in an open shirt.
I suppose by now Bill is on his way back to the "beautiful" topics – parting from his
family must have been very hard.
My hands are looking much improved tonight. Perhaps the sun on them has helped.
They'll be o.k. for the extra special time I'm sure.
Your photograph should be along in a week or so – you don't sound very pleased with
it though. You mustn't take me to seriously when I start making comments on snaps.
Who am I to judge such things? Ask Norma.
Pross is back with me permanently and is thriving in this climate. Joe looks very
brown and shows no after-effects of his malaria bout.
Well, if you'd like to play chess I'll teach you. It would be handy to fill in the time
while we’re nursing our rheumatism in the twilight of our years wouldn't it? We’ve
lots of other things to do in the meantime though.
"Flying Tigers" was too far-fetched for my liking and I'm still wondering how that
guy got back to his lines after he had hit the silk in enemy territory. Your taste in
Garry is much better than Norma's in my opinion, especially when you know that
John Wayne's character was just about the average American's attitude when he's in a
foreign country. The Aussies are always taking their bank rolls for a ride – they're
suckers for souvenirs and they always pay about 20 times as much as the things are
worth. You'd think they'd be awake-up by now wouldn't you?
Why the devil don't those wedding bells go into action this year? I thought the event
was to take place in November. The kids couldn't have taken much notice of our
advice at least, not Bruce.
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That's finished my supply of this size paper darling, so I'll close here. You'd better get
the little clock in working order and start to save your sugar coupons. Fondest love
and kisses and an extra special hug to my favourite blonde. As always, Your, Me.
***
5 June 1944. On ACF Letterhead notepad sized writing block, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit censoring officer's signature in pencil is illegible.
Dearest Marjorie, The news that Rome is in allied hands has just come over the radio
and that sounds pretty good to me but wait till they march down the streets of Tokio.
And it may not be so long now the way things are shaping. To me it seems they are
planning a terrific knock-out blow to finish the war quickly and by the end of this
year, the stage should be all set for it..
Now that I’ve won the war, let's get on to your letter of May 22 that arrived yesterday
– quite a bit behind the one you wrote on May 29.
You were going to take Anne and family out on a picnic which didn't eventuate. Bad
luck the weather mucked things up for you. Perhaps we can do something of the kind
when I get down.
The weather here has been showery today too, and it's not exactly hot tonight. I have
my pullover on and still feel chilly. Maybe it's because the room is underground.
Remember how I used to tell Bill not to be so anxious to get into the army. If I could
see him now I'd give him plenty of "I TOLD YOU SO". His chances of getting out
would be pretty remote but he should stand good chance of transferring to an army
newspaper or printing job on the mainland. The number of misfits in the forces is
amazing but nobody bothers to do anything about it.
I am enclosing Mitchell's airgraph with this. You'll notice it says he expects to be
home by September, so there's a chance we’ll see him together. I wrote out an
airgraph form to him last night but the Post Office returned it this morning asking me
to write it again and sign off with my address in block letters or something. I gave up
with the remark that they could go strangle themselves with red tape. Apparently the
form adopted by England and America is not good enough for them. They must have
the address in duplicate. I'll write a letter later on in the week and take a chance of it
reaching him in time.
Mother's letter of May 22 reached me only yesterday to. She seems very tired and
heavy-hearted. Cheer her up dear, and tell her she won't have to wait much longer for
us to come home. Things will be brighter for her then.
Some more of the boys came back this afternoon, all full of beans after their holiday
on the mainland. Nearly all of them are from Newcastle and they didn't see very much
of Sydney. Have you heard anything of Wally Pyne yet?
366
Before I close, darling, I’d better mention that both Pross and self are well although a
little stiff after the cricket and running around. We are trying to arrange a tennis
match to help us loosen up. Unfortunately there aren't any suitable rivers for rowing.
Goodbye for this time darling, with all my love and kisses. Your loving husband,
George.
***
7 June 1944. On ACF Letterhead notepad sized writing block, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit censored by Capt. Clipsham..
Dearest Sweetheart, Your May 31 letter was in yesterday's mail so that brings us
back into line again. I felt like writing you last night after hearing the news from
Europe but you probably have heard it over and over and there isn't much for me to
say. Someone heard the afternoon broadcast mentioning the German report of the
landing so at the 7 o'clock news session practically the whole of the unit were
gathered around the radio to hear the announcement. From then on through the night
we got flashes of the progress being made. It reminded me of the Test Cricket
broadcasts when we used to sit up half the night listening to the scoring. At lunchtime
today we heard an almost "bomb by bomb" description by an airman. This is the thing
we have all been waiting for during the last few years and now we are praying that the
end will come quickly so that lives may be saved. Japan can’t possibly hold out for
very long after Germany is finished but it looks as if they won't realise that, doesn't it?
It's good to hear that Norma is happier in her new job and I think she'll do well. Pity
she didn't make the move sooner as the wedding bells will soon be taking her out of
circulation, I suppose.
I got a surprise when I read Aub's words of wisdom spread across a four-column
screamer in the "Sun". Didn't know that he was a Federal Officer which reminds me,
my boots need repairing, too.
Collingwood Street apparently is becoming a dairying centre. Who milks the cow?
The idea is an excellent one, I think nobody could possibly object in these times. Mrs
Tancred is a charming lady and her offer to share her good fortune shows that she is
genuinely trying to be neighbourly without excess. You can tell her I’ll need at least
one quart per day, but I won't be doing any milking.
How did Willie get on with his application for the extra days due to him? Hope he
was lucky enough to get them. Quite a lot of our coves got the full lot owing to them
but there's some talk of the idea being wiped unless the unit is on the mainland. It
won't worry me anyway.
I'm afraid my stories are usually chestnuts but here's one you may not have heard,-skip the page if you have.
An American woman was entertaining some guests and after offering one of the
gentlemen whiskey and soda she became embarrassed and said "I'm terribly sorry I
shouldn't have offered you whiskey. You belong to the Anti -Liquor League don't
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you". "No madam," replied the guest, "I belong to the Anti-Vice Squad". "Oh, of
course!" Said his hostess, "I knew there was something I shouldn't offer you".
I'm scribbling this note during the middle of the day darling and I can hear my master
calling me so for now I'll say ‘bye ‘bye. The picture show is on tonight and you
wouldn't want me to miss that would you.
Keep up the good work sweetheart and it won't be long before I'll be with you. Extra
special love and kisses and hugs from, Your loving husband, George.
***
9 June 1944. On ACF Letterhead notepad sized writing block, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit censored by officer whose signature is illegible.
Dearest Sweetheart, Last night was the coldest I've experienced on the island and it
called for an extra fold in the blankets. That doesn't sound right for the tropics but we
are over 3000 feet above sea level here and our average temperature at night is pretty
comfortable. The weather today is hot and I've just had a "sun-hot” shower before
going on duty again
Frank is on his bed alongside me, reading some old love letters, he says. His hands are
almost healed – remarkably quick recovery for this place. He’s lost a bit of weight but
is otherwise enjoying the best of health.
Pross and I had our photographs taken with the Jeep ambulance the other day.35
Haven't seen it yet but Pross said it is a beauty. There are others in the picture but on
Sunday we’re having one taken of just the two of us. If we can get a couple of prints
I’ll send them on to you.
By the way your photograph hasn't turned up yet. Did you send it?
Haven't seen a newspaper for days and the only news of the invasion comes over the
radio in small slices. From all accounts everything is going well and losses are smaller
than expected. I wonder if Mitch, Trev and Hughie were in it. Most probably they
were and are.
We had another movie show here on Wednesday night and there might be a show not
far away tonight and on Sunday night, too. Bit of an improvement isn't it.
Wednesdays feature was "Ice-capade" – marvellous skating but not a three star show
by any means. Getting a little "choosy" now. No "News from Home" gazette which
was a disappointment.
I forgot to tell you our little hen brought to light five chicks the other day. She got
wise to the fact that we were pinching her eggs and went bush for a time. Later she
showed up with a new family and they’re good and healthy. The old rooster is likely
to go to the block any time now – the old buzzard has started to crow in the middle of
the night. Maybe it's the bright moon.
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Give my love to the family and lots of the extra special kind for yourself. Kisses and
hugs added from, Your loving husband, Me.
***
10 June 1944 On ACF Letterhead notepad sized writing block, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit , without censor’s signature
Dearest Sweetheart, I'm on duty this afternoon and there’s not much doing for a few
minutes so I thought it would be a good opportunity to say hello again. Saturday,
especially around 7.30, always sends my thoughts back to home and I'm wondering
just what you are doing at the moment. Probably getting tea ready and thinking about
going to the local show like a good Saturday night child. I wish I could be there with
you to hold your hand when the lights go out. And I wouldn't wait for the lights to go
out to do that. We used to get sick of going out every Saturday night didn't we? The
idea of staying at home and having a little party on our own. was pretty good and we
had the best time of our lives in a quiet way, didn't we? The little gas fire at Nortoft is
as vivid in my mind as if it were only yesterday that we were there, instead of two
years ago. And it's easy to think of the sherry glasses and the bottle sparkling in the
glow of the fire. Not that the sherry was necessary to make the evening enjoyable but
it did warm us up, didn't it?
Pink suits you darling and I always got a big thrill when you were all dressed up ready
to go to town. I like the long pink floral gown with the belt at the waist. Sometimes
you didn't wear the belt. Am I right? Hope it won't be long before we get dressed up
like that again, don't you.
Last night the show was "Eternally Yours". In spite of the interesting title it turned out
to be just another film. However the audience managed to read some double meanings
in it and it passed the night.
There is a big game of Bridge about to begin, sweetheart and they are waiting for me
very patiently so this is going to be only a short note. By the way, I've had my tea
during the middle part of it this letter and it was quite good kai. Mince-pie made with
fresh meat – I backed up for once. It made me think of your cottage-pie but of course
not nearly up to your standards.
And that about uses up all my "news" for the night. I'll make a date with you for an
extra special time. O.K.? As a matter of fact I have a date with you every night after
"lights out". Soon those dreams will be coming true. All my love and kisses and hugs
as always, Your, Me.
***
12 June 1944. On ACF Letterhead notepad sized writing block, in ink, with
regimental number, rank, name and unit censored by Capt. Clipsham.
Dearest Sweetheart, Evidently the mail ship has been held up somewhere as I haven't
had a letter for days. Your short note tonight will be grabbed out of the air and that
means it probably won't have anything in it except, "Hello my darling."
369
The light is very poor and I can hardly see to write. Our own plant is not switched on
until after the 7 o'clock news session. Later there's a lecture by the educational officer
in this mess hut. I don't know what it's all about but it seems that debate I mentioned
to you has been cancelled owing to Frank's inability to attend. As a matter of fact the
lecture is about to start so you’ll probably get a few pearls of wisdom thrown in.
My hands are almost as good as they ever were apart from a few red spots it would be
hard to realise that a few weeks ago they were in such a bad state.
I am still working in the RAP, "soldiering on" to the best of my ability. That looks as
if it may be permanent while we’re in this place. Well, I hope the job won't last long
as I'm a driver and not a "po-joe".
I haven't seen the photograph taken a while ago but I believe it's waiting for us to pick
up and the cove who took it is going to take a snap of the two of us at the first
opportunity. So you'll be getting some pictorial art before many days have passed.
Now I'll have to close dear and listen in to the speaker. Will be with you soon. Keep
the chin up and take good care of yourself. Fondest love and kisses and extra special
hugs. Your husband, George.
***
14 June 1944.On ACF letterhead notepad sized writing block, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit censored by Capt. Clipsham..
Dear Sweetheart, Still waiting for that airmail ship to come in to hear how you are
getting on.
I received some "Smith's Weekly's" yesterday afternoon but that doesn't help much in
the way of news. I haven't even heard whether Greig retained his seat in Drummoyne
or not. My guess is that he did. News sheets are a thing of the past it seems.
Now that I've got those moans off my chest lets see what we have to talk about.
First thing my health is excellent except for the old complaint "no leave" and that may
be cleared up soon.
Pross is well, too and still driving around the place, doing odd jobs. He’s not losing
any weight by the look of him. Hasn't been over to pick up those snaps yet.
Our picture show for tonight is off owing unforeseen circumstances so it may mean a
game of Bridge for me instead.
There’s a game of football on for the lads this afternoon and the circlos competition
should have started but it hasn't. I'm entering just to give someone a bit of practice. If
I happen to beat anyone it will be a miracle as this is my first game in about three or
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four months. Pross should be among the place getters though. He’s playing pretty
well, lately.
The weather has been made to order the last week or so. Very much like that of
Northern Queensland. Perhaps not such a high rainfall in this particular spot – or else
we’re having a dry spell.
LATER- 7.30 pm.
Hamburger rissoles (spelling) for tea and a back-up for me. Not such terrible tucker,
eh?
Pross brought back the photograph tonight. It's not a good one of me so I didn't order
an extra one as printing paper is short. Hope the next is better.
The educational bloke who spoke on New Guinea the other night whilst I was writing
to you told a story that will stand repeating. It's an old one and evidently true but you
probably haven't heard it. Stop me, if you have.
Before the advent of the Japs in New Britain, the Administrator's wife was giving a
banquet to visiting celebrities and she noticed a fly crawling on the milk jug. So she
called in the native house-boy and told him to fetch "bannis bilong su-su". The word
"bannis" is a Pigdgin contraction for "bannister" a sort of fence or cover and "su-su" is
milk. What she wanted was a cover for the milk. But "su-su" is also Pidgin for a
mary's breast. Away went the native boy and in a few minutes he returned with a
pleasing smile on his face holding up a pair of brassiers – a cover for "susu". Imagine
the blushes of the prim and proper hostess.
The news tonight per medium of the Red Cross Radio set is encouraging to say the
least. The invasion army is holding four hundred square miles of territory and that
should enable them to gather enough force to make rapid headway. "A-doff" must be
a little worried about his future, don't you think.
I'm on duty in the RAP and there's a few jobs to be done so for now it's goodbye,
sweetheart. Hope your fingers aren't getting too tired. It won't be long before the sun
begins to shine, I'm sure. Love to all and a big hunk for yourself with kisses and hugs
as always, Your, Me.
***
16 June 1944. On airmail Lettercard, with penny stamp, with regimental number,
rank, name and unit censored by Capt Clipsham.
Dearest Sweetheart, Received three letters and your photograph from you. Also short
notes from Mother and Mitch last night. So the sun is shining once again. The
photograph is a little pippin and I'll have to tell you more about it later. Tonight the
picture show is operating and just now I'm in a bit of a rush to get ready for it. Your
letters are down in my hut so I'll be on the business end of the pen tomorrow.
You'll be getting a cheque for thirty Johnny O’Goblins within a week or two. It's the
balance in my paybook and earmarked for leave doings. By the time I collect leave
pay and sustenance money for 50 days and add to the thirty we should have enough to
371
play around with for a few days, shouldn't we? Better go buy yourself some gladglads for the big occasion.
I think you can still teach me something about washing clothes. This afternoon I was
going to do the right thing and get everything clean for the week-end. Put all my
things in a kerosene tin of water and five minutes later I discovered a indelible pencil
in the shirt pocket. Fortunately the shirt hadn't unfolded properly and that is the only
article ruined. But just before then I ripped the back out of another shirt so I had to hot
foot up to the “Q” store to cover my nakedness.
The Catts wedding must have been quite an affair – hit the pictorial part of the
Herald's social page, eh? I see old Jim standing there hogging the centre of vision and
Mrs Catts looking very pleased.
Heard some good news this morning and I'm hoping it remains that way.
Both Pross and self are in excellent spirits and feeling number one in health.
There’s a game of cricket on during the weekend but as I haven't been able to get
down to practice I hardly think that I'll be playing myself. Some more players have
arrived back from leave and they should strengthen our team.
I'll keep the rest for tomorrow darling. In the meantime keep battling on in the old
style. All my love and kisses with an extra lot of hugs. Ever your loving husband,
George.
***
17 June 1944. On a CF writing block On ACF letterhead notepad sized writing block,
in ink, with regimental number, rank, name and unit censored by Capt J R.Elliott.
Dearest Sweetheart, We had a pleasant surprise just after tea tonight – it was
announced that the pictures will be showing in the grounds from 9.30 and the show is
a good one "Watch on the Rhine". Pictures on Saturday night – sounds like home
doesn't it? You'll probably be up at the local show yourself.
I am on duty in the RAP but as the screen is just outside I’ll be able to get a look-see.
Anyway to get down to your letters June 2, 4 and 6 which I promised to answer today.
You wanted to know how I liked my new job. Not bad – it's a good change from
driving and I'm picking up a lot that will be useful in case of emergency.
Bill is having a good holiday isn't he? Glad to hear that the extension of leave was
granted to him.
Mother told me that the Leiffermans had gone home. They are extremely nice people
but real chatterboxes – all of them. Mother is not so young as she used to be and I
think they were a little too much for her.
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How is Norma progressing in her new job. The free Saturday morning's would suit
her very well, or doesn't she get every Saturday off. She'll be able to give us our
breakfast in bed on the weekends, tell her. A couple of hard-boiled eggs aren't
difficult to cook.
I'm afraid that my patience for making rings is exhausted and I'll have to write Anne a
letter when I can think of something.
Jean Boon is blossoming out with a beau. I always think of her as the baby next door
and not at all as a young woman. Does she squeal much?
Sorry to hear Aub and Guy have been having a rough spin. It makes things a bit
awkward doesn't it.
Your new butter ration is pretty poor – I wonder if the Yanks are getting plenty.
We've been getting enough for one slice of bread each meal lately and that's a big
improvement.
I told you all about the letters received yesterday in my lettercard. Now I'm waiting
for the next batch and they should be here soon. Frank is out of hospital and back on
the job again. When he saw your photograph he told me to tell you that it made him
homesick. He thinks he'll get married and settled down. And I suppose you want to
know what I think of the photograph myself. Well I won't flatter you but I think it's a
good likeness of my darling wife. Everyone who saw it said how lucky I was to be so
lucky and how ever did I do it? Am I going to enter it in the "Girl I left behind"
competition in Guinea Gold? Of course, I wouldn't think of such a thing – it would be
like robbing the kids money-box
The celluloid on my photograph folder is scratched but I polished it with spirits and
it's a bit better. My favourite "pin up" girl just fits into it nicely. Do you realise that
that is the only professional photograph of you? So you can realise how happy I am
with it. And that doesn't mean that the lovely snaps taken at Austinmer have been
discarded. I'll always keep them near me, too.
Unfortunately the postal department put the envelope on the outside of the bundle
which was tied very securely with a piece of string and it left a mark across the
middle of the picture. However no serious damage was done and the mark will flatten
out after a while. Thank you sweetheart for sending it and I'm sorry I mucked you
around so much.
You certainly were lucky to catch the man with the coke even though you had to pay
black-market prices. That lot will keep you warm for a couple of weeks longer.
Now dear it's nearly time for the show to start and I've got make arrangements. Be
with you soon – keep the old flag flying. Until next time all my loveliest love and
kisses and hugs's. As always George.
PS. Received a letter from Mitch – will send it later. Love G
***
373
19 June 1944. On ACF letterhead notepad sized writing block, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit, no indication of censorship.
Dearest Sweetheart, I have just got back from a picture show and have only a few
minutes to scribble this note before lights out. Didn't know about it until this
afternoon or I would have written earlier. The films shown were "Scarface", (I think)
and "Silver Skates" and they weren't anything to rave over. The audience was about
the biggest I've seen for a long time and although we were early, the only positions
left were way up the back, on the bumper bar of a jeep. On Saturday night "Watch on
the Rhine" proved to be all that has been said about it. It's really an excellent show
and well worth seeing if you get the chance.
Nothing exciting has happened since my last letter and I can’t tell you anything
further in regard to when I shall be seeing you. Don't know why I said "further" as I
haven't been able to tell you a thing, have I?
Received a long epistle from Ding Dong and in it he breaks the happy news of a
blessed event to take place at the end of the year. He’s a scream with his Latin
German and classical quotations. Asks me to send kind regards to you from "little
Annie and myself"
And that's as much as I can write at the moment, darling, but to make up your reading
I enclose Mitch's letter which I answered yesterday.
You must be getting ready for the big time and I bet there's a song in your heart. Just a
little longer sweetheart and then we’ll be going to town.
God bless you and keep you safe. And please consider yourself kissed and hugged by
your loving husband, Me.
***
21 June 1944. On ACF letterhead notepad sized writing block, in ink, with regimental
number, rank, name and unit censored by Major J F N (Noel) Thomas NX 102476.
Marjorie Darling, Yesterday your three letters dated June 8, 9-10, 12 turned up and
that brings the average back to normal, I think. It's a pity they all come together
because it means that I have to answer them at the same time and then there's nothing
left to write about until the next lot arrives.
You were in the throes of a cold winter night when writing on June 8 and that means
you haven't taken my advice to pull up a pew in front of the fire. Norm and Bruce
should be easy to persuade to move over onto the couch. I'm sure we won't need any
fire – we’ll be too busy running around.
The winter doesn't seem to be treating Dad so well – he'll be looking forward to the
warmer months to dry out his aches and pains.
It's good to hear that you are feeling happy and are in fine fettle. You'll need plenty of
energy to enjoy the best holiday of our lives.
374
I hope that Cec will be able to meet us in the car and that you can make it, too. I
suppose he knows the new LT D is at Addison Road now and not at the Showground.
If he can't meet us we’ll pick up the bus along the road. Sounds as though I almost
there doesn't it. Nothing like looking on the bright side.
Norma certainly does a lot of holidaying – Palm Beach this time, eh? Rather cold at
this time of the year I should think. I can't understand why she doesn't feel 100% – or
perhaps I can.
You have a mighty lot of confidence about those blondes but there's one blonde who
used to be quite disconcerting when I used try to bring home some work to do. Of
course you wouldn't know her, would you?
Auntie Cissy's little table always appealed to you didn't it. I thought you would get it
in the end and old Perce did the right thing. Maybe the other one will come along later
or has Norma got designs on it?
Bill's leave is lengthening considerably isn't it. I suppose he’s waiting for a draft and
has it worked down to a fine art by now. I feel sorry that he has to go away again but
then I'm sorry for me, too.
Fred's case should be taken with a grain of salt in my opinion. A guy who lets himself
go like that is a problem but pitying him only encourages it. After all if everyone
acted in the same way we'd be in a sorry plight and he hasn't seen the worst of
everything by any means.
Right on top of that comes the news of young Briggs. How would Fred get on in a job
of that nature. How is Mrs Briggs? She has had more than her share of this war hasn't
she?
The old yellow socks must be nearly worn out by now but you wont need them much
longer. So don't worry. We received our issue of clothing coupons today – 25 of them
– and they should help. I'll keep them until I see you.
The three whistles for mess will be blowing soon and I have to get my plates. Be with
you in dreams tonight. All my fondest love and a big lot of hugs and kisses,
sweetheart. As always, Your devoted husband, George.
***
22 June 1944. On airmail Lettercard with stamp missing, including regimental
number, rank, name and unit censored by Capt JJ Cuff.
Dearest Sweetheart, Today brought me in your two letters dated June 13-14 and June
15 and I feel like answering them right away.
Everyone must have had the same thought as Pross and I received no less than four
clippings of the report in Sydney papers that Kim Patterson is alive and a prisoner of
war in Germany. He had bad luck in being wounded and captured after getting back
375
to within a mile of the allied lines but his parents must be greatly relieved to hear that
he’s alive and apparently not badly hurt.
I didn't like the finality in G H's announcement in the office bulletin and it shows how
much he and Mrs Patterson must have suffered in the past few months. Now they
must feel that their prayers have been answered. According to most reports prisoners
of war in Germany are being treated fairly and Kim should get along – especially as
he is an officer.
Your "around the fire" family group brings back many happy memories and I can
almost hear the snores of she who lays her head on the arm of the chair and peacefully
reposes in the arms of Morpheus. My Sugar Pie wouldn't have a chance of going to
sleep if I were there. On second thoughts, perhaps you and I wouldn't be there to
witness the domestic scene – we always cleared out pretty early didn't we?
Several times "Sun Valley Serenade" has been promised to us but it has shown up yet.
Glad to hear you enjoyed it.
I've been writing a little more frequently lately trying to catch up on that very good
effort of yours. I feel happy when I think of you reading my letters even though they
don't contain much interesting news. It's the only way we have of bridging the gap
and even a few words is better than nothing at all aren't they?
That little pippin of a photo gives me a big thrill when I look at it and that is very
often. And you thought I wouldn't like it?
Marge dear, I’ll enclose with this a note for Anne as I know you see her almost every
day. It's difficult to write to a youngster of her rage so you'd better help me out by
adding the story of "noki-o”. Will answer the rest of your letters next time. Love and
kisses to you darling from your loving husband, George.
***
24 June 1944. On airmail lettercard, with penny stamp, with regimental number,
rank, name and unit. Censor’s signature in pencil not legible.
Dearest Marjorie, Here I am to finish answering those two letters of yours that I
started on the other night. We had a rest day this Saturday instead tomorrow but I've
been battling away with the file trying to make a buckle for a belt I've made for you.
I'm afraid it's not a success but I'll keep at it until it's, at least, satisfactory. Anyhow
that's why you are getting only a lettercard and not a full-size job.
Pleased to hear Norma likes her new job and I'm sure she'll be much better in health
without the worry of the other crowd. And it's about time those bells began to ring.
A parcel of Women's Weeklies, World News etc came in the mail last night. I've been
worrying about Lothar and Mandrake but they seem to be doing all right.
376
Don’t forget to thank Auntie Ciss for the "W N's" when she comes over to see you.
The only trouble with that rag is that they don't handle the facts too carefully.
However the stories fill in a few spare minutes when I can find them.
I was surprised to learn that Bruce is interested in buying Patterson's place. My advice
would be – don't. It is not a well-planned house and the hall is very dark. The
breakfast room is "pokey" and the kitchen isn't the best. What do you think of it? Of
course, others have different ideas in regards to these things and Bruce may be keen
on the layout. I think the position is poor, too. One of the best "buys" in that street is
Bell's old place but no doubt the old lady doesn't want to part with it at present.
Now dear I'm going to have a game of Bridge but before I close must tell you that
things look very bright. And that still keeps you guessing doesn't it. However, I can
picture you with a song in your heart. Take good care of yourself sweetheart. Be
seein’ you. Until next time a "back-up" on the love and kiss with lots of extra special
hugs. As always your, Me.
***
25 June 1944. In ink, on ACF, note sized writing pad, in new format with spaces for
regimental number rank and name, unit or group, bearing no evidence of censorship.
Dearest Sweetheart. I had a very successful night last night – three letters and a good
win at Bridge. The letters were from you and Sugar and I'm going to try the answer
them now.
I think you must be trying to make me homesick building up such a lovely story of
days that were. It was just as well we could see the train coming or perhaps I would
have been late for work more often. Remember how I used to stagger home at
breakfast time after a night out on patrol. You must've been pretty lonely those nights
but it had to be done, or at least, I thought so at the time. Brown hats and blue suits
are almost faded from memory – it will feel strange to get back into the square rig
again, but welcomes strangeness.
I bet you had a great time chimney-sweeping the Esse – just imagine the mess I would
have made with the soot and cinders. Thanks for the compliment about the handyman
but at best I'm only a bush carpenter who can manage to drive a nail in here and there.
Air-raid shelters, of course are my specialty but we won't be needing them any more,
I hope.
The job of getting clothes for the youngsters must be a problem nowadays and I can
quite realise what a drag it is tramping around from store to store. Betty should know
all the good spots. She likes going to town, doesn't she?
You were wondering how many more Saturday nights you would be spending alone
writing letters. Not many, darling so cheer up and be ready to enjoy yourself. I'm on
duty in the RAP tonight and most of the lads have gone to the picture show. Bad luck
for me and I am told the film is "What a Woman" or something like that. Probably be
another show later in the week though, and I'll get a shot at that.
377
The snaps haven't eventuated but we'll see what we can do about it within the next
few days. Perhaps you'll see me in the flesh first which would be better, don't you
think.
Lismore should be a good break for Bet and she will probably be home to greet me.
How did Bill take the second parting? I don't envy him having to go back after his
long holiday. He was fortunate to get the extra days wasn't he.
Well, darling you can see my paper is running out and in the canteen they have only
the large pads which don't fit my writing case. However I'll replenish my supply of
free paper tomorrow.
Until my next letter sweetheart all my love and plenty of the extra special kisses, your
husband, Me.
***
27 June 1944. On ACF letterhead, small size writing pad, in ink, with regimental
number, rank name and unit, censoring officer’s signature illegible.
Dearest Sweetheart, Were expecting a picture show tonight – nobody seems quite
sure about it but there are supposed to be two shows a week so I'm getting your letter
written before tea as we’ll have to hitchhike a ride if there's anything doing.
Everything's going along smoothly and I'm feeling fit for that leave I've heard so
much about. Pross is well too.
The "drought" has broken and the daily shower is becoming a regular thing again.
Last night it rained steadily for a few hours and some drips managed to get through
our grass roof, although not enough to cause any concern.
I forgot to acknowledge the picture of the lady in pink enclosed in an issue of Woman
received recently. Well well, you should remember that I'm in NG and you shouldn't
do things like that to me. I'll speak to you about that later.
Now we've got a cat in the RAP to make it seem more like home. Nights when I'm on
duty I have to sleep up here and the rats used scramble along the cabinet beside the
bed and do a one and a half somersault on to my net. Pussy soon put a stop to that.
The first night she woke me up twice and when I switched on the torch she proudly
displayed her "kills". Afterwards I heard her disposing of them – very much like the
noise you would hear in a soup kitchen.
How are you bearing up under the strain of rumours – have you been able to sort out
what's what? All that I can tell you is that I've never felt better.
Don't forget to let me know when you receive that cheque sent some time ago,