Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales

Dene B. Fry letters, 17th May 1915-16 April 1917
MLMSS 1159 / vol. 3

[Page 1]

17th May 1915

Dear Mother,

It’s two dark to see the lines and I am writing in the Salvo Tent with a concert going on behind me. We were greeted by "Marmalade" "Marmalade" "plenty of Marmalade" boys as we came in. This is usual all new comers are "Marmalades" but to-day we were the criers for 230 arrived this afternoon. I have been shoved with the infantry temporarily and have Jim here beside me tonight. It will be some time before I am transferred to the A.M.C. I think I saw a desertion court martial to day and they entend to make an example of the man who is reserved & for sentence – it may even be death. He deserted and enlisted again.

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It’s fine marching to a good band, which plays intermittently all day. I don’t think it was here when Alan was here. Who do you think sleeps next to me? Fraser Harvie. The tent load is not a bad lot and we hope to get two Army Med Recruits shifted into Jim’s tent. One is a man named Riley a B D.Sc. of Sydney who went through with Olly and thinks a lot of Olly. Tell Olly this. The drill so far consists of 6 ½ hours marching a day, but as I was orderly I was going hard all day. Well, there is nothing to related so far. Don’t write to me till I know where I am stationed unless you write to C/o Salvation Army.

Your loving son

Dene

[Page 3]

My address is. Priv. D. B. Fry
Army Med. Corps.
Field Hospital
Liverpool

Field Hospital
Liverpool
24.V.15

Dear Mother

We got back alright I met Noel and Jim and we went along together. On Milson’s Pt. Station Jim met Dr. & Mrs Beatty who had a large bottle of trifle which we showed to the men in my tent, then out and ate. It was 12.30 then and before day break – well you know, and all the next day. Well on Monday I fixed up my transfer and now repose at nights with Jim in the A.M.C. I was lucky enough to get onto a ward straight away. Last night a married chap died, and I’m afraid he was not too well attended to. He was in dreadful pain all night and I don’t believe they quite knew what it was but roumour says meningitis. The men are great: as cheerful as larks, and they pinch away as often as they can. They all curse the lying in and many seem as if home nursing would be good enough.

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one chap had a miraculous escape. He fell off the front horses and was passed over by a hinder pair & a wagon & all he got was stamped on the head & arm. His arm is swollen & cut & his head has had 3 stitches, but he is the liveliest in the ward and badly wants to be back at duty. This was only yesterday too.

The duties are the worst part of the business. There are many hours with nothing to do but yarn and play cards. But taking temperatures, pulses, and watching the charts is great. We love to get their feed and was up & generally wait on them. Jim is in another ward.

Don’t come up this weekend unless I let you know. Unfortunately we put in for leave 24 hours before we start & only get it back, perhaps negatived, a few hours before. The weather has been fine & I’m in grand nick. You ought to hear the absolutely blue remarks concerning a hurdy gurdy which is playing near the ward. Ross Purdreau & Malc. Vicars & Ernie Snashall are in the A.M.C. Well, I hope all are well. Give my love to all & tell Wilga she is to give all the help she can now.

Remember me to all you see.

Yours lovingly

Dene.

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[Envelope]
On active service no stamps

From Dene
S.S. "Orsova"
16 July 1915

Mrs Arthur Fry.
"Denegully."
Northcote Road.
Lindfield. N.S.W.

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[Reverse side of envelope - blank]

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A.67. S.S. Orsova.
16th July.

Dear Mother.

The trip so far has been lovely. Of course there are many sick, but for a wonder I have been down to every meal, and have done any ordinary self respecting horse justice in the amount eaten. The food is good. We have roasts vegetables, cold ham & mutton with pickles, plenty of bread & butter & tea & coffee. This morning we had the most lovely porridge, while yesterday we had barly broth. Revaille goes at 6 and it is quite dark when we get up on decks. However I have not yet seen the sunrise for there has always been a fog. Still, you can imagine what an interest I have in this rare phenomenon incited in me, in fact gentlemen, I might say instilled, imbued, inforced in me, drawn, extolled, exhorted from the very heart of nature herself, from my boyhood. Sed fleistra, flustia, vevi, non vedi.

We sleep in hammocks with two blankets, all packed like sardines. Alan will tell you all about it. Twelve of us sleep in a space 12x6 feet

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It’s very hot to start with, but at 6 in the morning it’s very cold. At this very moment we have just about cleared the rip at Port Phillip heads. A moment before I blew my nose on Dorothy’s silk handkerchief, please tell her. Well, give me Sydney heads any day, this rip must be awfully dangerous, even the Orsova had quite a list. Now I’ll tell you some of the surprises I got when I came to meet the chaps on board. Bruce Grant is a private in the 7th of the 2nd on board here & he knows some of the stewards who are sweet with the chap who runs the officers canteen! Roy Kinghorn is sitting beside me now with hands too cold to write. Kingy was a bit sick, not much. He is attached to the Dental section of the 3rd Austr. General Hospital. Cleve Blackwell is a Sergeant in the same. Charlie Sommerville missed the boat owing to sickness, otherwise he would have been with Bruce. A chap name Hooton is a Sergeant dentist with us, tell Olly this, he knows him. Ran has been down to sea sickness yesterday poor chap. James is quite well & has plenty of fight in him. Well ma, we don’t know anything about our movements, how long we will stay in Melbourne etc. But the next stoop is Albany, W.A. As far as that address letters to the address on this letter, but afterwards to No 1. Austr. Hospital Ship. V. Barracks. The send off on the wharf was magnificent. I have never heard or seen anything like it in my life. Ask Alan. Well, give my love to the girls & Olly & tell father it was impossible for me to see him on Tuesday. Whips of love from

Dene

[Page 9]

S.S. Orsova. A.67.
17th July 1915

Do you like the photos?
Send one to Tompsons.
Tell Alan to post me one of us two together.

Dear Father.

I wrote to mother yesterday so there is very little to tell you to day.
Your nice letter arrived quite safely and it is very good of you to say the nice things you did. I am exceedingly sorry not to have been able to say a quiet good bye although we as good as said goodbye that afternoon at Queens Park. Anyway I can always look back on happy times in one of the best homes a chap could ever wish for, and as loving a mother & father as – well, as is good for one. I am sorry too, that mother is going through it all again over me: & know what it was when Alan went away. But, although I would like to think that

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I was taking the same risks & chances as my brother & cousins, it must be admitted that I am not, and I freely admit it. There seems to be a chance of our being back here in about 6 months time, but, if I can judge by my inclinations at the present moment, I will try and dodge this.

We are still in Port Melbourne. There has been no leave although last night some of the lads, about 100 of the infantry, took it, but with disastrous results to themselves. One officer held the bridge by himself and with a steady eye and a hard fist kept a particularly ugly lot back. But it was Capt. Kirkwood, one of our Med. Captains that pacified the crowd, mainly by a very handsome smile at exactly the correct moment. In the end they cheered him. They are as fickle as the Roman rabble.

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There are one or two things I wish to tell mother which escaped my memory yesterday, so you will not mind me adding them here. I sent £2 home by Alan. One is a return to her for £1 borrowed the day before I left, and the other I wish her to keep till the allotment arrives when she is to take the first 22/- and together with the £1 send it (2 guineas) to the following gentleman.

A.B. Walkom B Sc.
Hon Sec.
Royal Soc. Queensland
Brisbane.

Send a short note which you or Alan should write saying it is D.B. Fry’s Entrance fee & one year’s subscription to the society. Also, the money left in the allotment should go to Hazel & some to Dorothy when she is stiff, but of course as Hazel does not earn money outside I would like her to say how it is to be portioned out. Mother will best decide

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this, and I am sure that she will do it best. I have not had any word with Dr. Craig and know nothing more of the work. Poor Ran is down with the flue & tell Alan Goog Tyson is unlucky enough to be down with Measles.

As I write this there is great excitement out side as 500 Victorian Artillery are embanking yesterday the Thermistocles A.64 went out with two battalions onboard, they covered everything except the funnels. It was a magnificent sight & we cheered till we were hoarse. By cruel management the crowd was not let on to the deck till the boat was nearly out of the pier so could not adjust streamers & pass their friends the many cigarettes chocolates etc which they had brought. But its an ill wind etc. and we scored the lot.

We expect to go at midday to day; first stop Albany. Don’t address letters to this ship use the one left. Tell Mr. Thompson how sorry I was not to be able to say goodbye.

Well, tell Mother not to worry and for awhile goodbye.

Love to all.

Dene.

[Page 13]

[Postcard]

Mrs Arthur Fry.
Northcote Rd.
Lindfield.
Sydney
N.S. Wales

From Dene, undated
Great Australian Bight
[Freemantle 23 July 1915]

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[Reverse side of envelope - blank]

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3.

The G. A.. B

Dear Mother

If you could only see us now. I’ve been oh so much off colour – mal de mer. Nearly everybody has been the same too. We glided down Hobson’s bay like a snail over a piece of glass. The rip at the heads was a forerunner of what was in store. Things gradually grew worse and after rounding Cape Otway we fairly stood on ends. That was on Sunday. But today, Tuesday we struck a sort of storm amongst storms. It came straight from Mount Erebus and nearly froze us. Marion’s balaclava was called into commission and many other not often used articles of clothing. The boat had a continual list and shipped on many waves. We were terribly cramped up even on this boat with such great decks, and it made me wonder however Alan got along on the old Seangbee. But perhaps the weather was not so bad. She is pitching

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like the dickens now even. Jim is trying to write next to me. Of course he has not been sick at all, and has been the salvation of some of us with his hunks of bread & biscuits. You must not think that I have been really sick, for I have only thrown up twice but "off-colour" is the way to describe it.

The between decks is terribly stuffy even in this cold weather and while it has been rough we simply spend our nights bumping the man next to us & half waking up. But if it would only be calm the whole thing would be remedied.

Of course we cant see anything at all but water everywhere. The letters have to be in 36 hours before we arrive in port so that the Censor can go through them.

Just as we left Melbourne on Saturday at midday, the Kyarra drew up to the wharf with her wounded all handing on every available spot. They gave us three bosca cheers and we cheered them again and again. Some were being supported on one or each arm, while others were on stretchers; most were in pyjamas, while slings etc were common sights. But we were actually moving out of the wharf as

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they drew in so we did not have even the shortest tete-a-tete with any of them. I am not allowed to say half what I would like to tell you about the trip so far, not because it would be in any way detrimental, for we are being treated really well, but because it is just a military order not to mention certain topics.

The Bight has lived in every way up to its expectations. If the Leuwin does also then I will champion them as long as I live. I want nothing more.

How is everybody? I got fathers nice letter & wrote an answer which I gave to a man at the wharf to post. I hope he got it. This was the only letter I got in Melbourne. I guessed there were others but they have missed me.

I hope Bill’s cough is now better. Hazel was looking very scarce when I left, she had better be in larger quantities when I come back. Tell Alan to forward Tomson’s address to me on postcards, one to Alexandria, one to england as I wan it as soon as poss.

Well, good bye mother the dreariest part of the trip is before us. But, by the time you get this we will be well on our way.

Love to all

Your loving son

Dene

[Page 18]

At Sea

My Dear Mother

Fancy this being the anniversary day of the commencement of the War. Here we are nearly there. Bit Irish but perhaps you will understand. I have several letters nearly finished which will be posted at [censored] but this may be put through from the other and of the [censored]. We are all well, or since we have run into monsoonal weather during the last 20 hours. I should say "nearly all. In fact Im a bit off myself. Jim is a good sailor and never gets ill. I have been put onto hospital work in the meanwhile and so have done quite a lot of work in stuffy localities. It’s no good but I suppose someone must do it. Ran is O.K. I have had a chat with Goog Tyson, but he’s an officer. Our unit is going to be a very happy one. I’m liking the chaps more & more. Well, the mail time has closed now so I simply have to rush off.

Whips of love to all.

Your loving son.

Dene.

[Page 19]

On active service. No stamping

[Printed stamp: Passed Censor]

From Dene
Undated
At Sea
Th Aug 1915.?

Mrs Arthur Fry.
Northcote Rd.
Lindfield
Sydney N.S.W.
Australia

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A. 67.
Pt. Said.
13th Aug.15

Dear Mother.

I have a long letter to Dorothy here which I cannot post, because the censor has issued orders to the effect that all letters are to be of one page only. It contains all the news, so that it will have to wait til I can get ashore & post it myself. Things are alright. The trip through the Canal has been most interesting. The Indians & a few Englishmen and Australians are still on outpost duty there. They galloped down to the bank of the canal & waved to us and a few who could, shouted "good luck". We are all very well. Jim is in good form. I’m feeling as if I could jump out of my skin, in spite of 3 weeks almost incessant work below decks in the isolation hospital. I have not been ashore once yet and am longing to go, but there is no hope. Well ma dear, give my love to all. I will get a letter with news through as soon as possible. Lovingly

Dene.

[Page 21]

On active service. No stamps available

Mrs Arthur Fry.
"Denegully"
Northcote Rd.
Lindfield. Sydney
Australia

From Dene
near Gibraltar
19 Aug. 1915.

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[Envelope rear]

Pr. D.B. Fry 4992
Army M. Corps
1st Aus. Hosp Shi
(Egypt) A.I.F.
Freemantle W.A

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19th Aug
Near Gibraltar
A 67

My Dear Mother

There is just a chance that letters posted at Gibraltar may arrive before these posted in England, so I will drop a line. We expect to hit the rock tomorrow morning early. There will of course, be no leave. Yesterday at dusk, we were pulled up by a French dreadnought. She came very close to examine us & they gave us three cheers.

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It was fine to see all her great guns swing round with one accord to cover us. She flew a beautiful silk red white & blue flag, which she dipped when abrest of us. The French have the patrolling of the Mediterranean Sea now. We saw four large 7 cruisers on the horizon the other day. They were pretty well enveloped in their own smoke, and were making great pace. At night now all boats are swung out, and ladders

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placed over the sides. Everyone has to sleep with their life belts under their pillows. We have zig-zagged our course a bit too, so every precaution is being taken against under water craft.

At Suez Port Said we took on 200 wounded English Tommies. They are a wonderful lot of chaps. There is no more emotion in them than if they were going to the front instead of returning. Some have gammy legs, other arms in slings. Several have eyes shot out & ears off. One cant sit down.

Another poor devil was shot through the neck and the bullet came out the right ear. He is deaf on one side & dumb for life. There is a V.C. man too, who I have had the honour of chatting with. He is a remarkably reserved chap, but tells his tale very interestingly. He only held a trench single handed all one night!

Well Ma, I am pretty well, but just for the last few days have had a touch of gastritis. The food is now the limit, but will be all right in a day or so.

Give best love to all

Lovingly

Dene.

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Rest Camp. Southampton. Eng
25th Aug. 15

Dear Mother.

We have arrived in England. Everyone tells us it is quite the best time of the year to see England, and without doubt everything is very green & beautiful. I am charmed with it. Owing to having a few measle patients on board we have been Quarantined for 16 days in a Rest Camp at Southampton. But this will be cancelled I think & we expect a little leave. There are some 10 000 Tommies camped just near us, but so far we are not impressed, rather the opposite. The people here gave us a magnificent reception and, as we marched through the city everybody lined the streets, and down to the tiniest kiddies insisted on either touching or shaking our hands. We marched our best, and I think it was good too. It was a 5 mile march to the camp, the last 2 through groves, parks & shrewd residences, absolutely charming. We landed our 300 wounded Englishmen at Davenport & then trained to Southampton. We were 38 hours without a sleep & working hard. In the channel we had an experience with a submarine but our patrol destroyers were on the scene like a flash. We passed over the spot where the Afrie was torpedoed. The water was littered with spars & there were 2 upturned boats & a few stiff bodies in the water. So altogether we were glad to glide between the pretty headlands of Plymouth. Everybody here thinks we are Canadians, & a few have asked us whether we are New Zealanders, but Australians came third in their thoughts. I seem to be the only chap in the unit who has not brought money with him & it does seem a pity not to see something now I am here. I will tap Mr. Harrison I think. Well, for awhile ta-ta. Best love.

Dene.

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[envelope front]

From Dene
Rest Camp, Southampton
25 Aug. 1915

Mrs Arthur Fry.
Northcote Rd.
Lindfield. Sydney
Australia

[Page 28]

[postcard]

Mrs A Fry.
Northcote Rd.
Lindfield. Sydney
Australia

1 Sep. 15

Dear Mother

Just nipped into a tent where writing material is to send you this card. Am OK. Had 3 days in London. Met Bert Radcliffe, he is a Lieut. Went to Cambridge but Mr. H. was in Scotland. Will probably be in England a fortnight more.

Best love, writing Dene

[Page 29]
[Postcard - HMSP "Clyde"]

This is the only material to be had. Remember me to every one. Dene.

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[postcard]

3 Sept/15

Dear Father.

Yesterday I sent a civil cable (which cost 18/6) [indecipherable] [indecipherable] asking you to send £10. Of course you will think all kinds of things but the fact is we have been given an opportunity of seeing a bit of England & it does seem a pity now we are here not to do so. Most of the chaps brought money but I did not. After 7 weeks hard work we all drew £3.15.0, so you see I would have to spend all my leave in S’hampton if I can’t raise some [indecipherable] I will have to settle somehow. Love. Dene.

[Page 31]

[Postcard - Southampton Common]

This is right next to our camp & we bathe here.

[Page 32]

3 Sept. 15

Dear Mother

This is right in the centre of the town and is very old & historical. I don’t know how far it goes back but I think from some scripts & writings on the out side, to about Richard 3rd. Its crumbling of course, but is beautiful to look at. It was formerly the gate to the city. We expect to leave England for Dardanelles on the 8th. I had 3 ½ days in dear dirty muddied old London.

Love to all

Dene

Mrs Arthur Fry
Northcote Rd.
Lindfield, N.S.W
Australia

[Page 33]

[Postcard – The Bargate, Southampton]

[Page 34]

17th Sep. ‘15
On board No. 1 A.H.S.
Mediterranean

My Dear Ma

Just before leaving Southampton, while assisting in adjusting the x-ray app. I dropped, or rather fell with a big 16 in coil in my arms and injured my wrist. So I had to get James to drop a line to you. The doctor diagnosed it as a fracture but when the x-ray was put on it next morning they found it was not so! One carple bone is displaced

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and the muscles and tendons bruised. It was mighty sore for a few days, but a week in a sling has put it quite right except that it is very tender, and of course not yet useable. Here are too reasons for my very bad writing. The arm is one and the other is the great vibration aft. I’m in the pathology lab. writing this, the place where I will eke out my future existence as a soldier. It’s too ridiculous to call the apartment for a lab, for although the walls & table have the appearance of one, nevertheless work with

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3.
this terrible vibration is quite out of the question.

Well, Ma, I’ve a long letter to Dorothy giving full details for the trip as far as Egypt. As for the last few weeks I’ve not been able to bring it up to date I will post it. As the chance offers I will continue on as I intend that account to be my diary.

Well, we landed at Devonport after passing through Portsmouth. The people gave us a great welcome. You know we are the blaseest crowd of men that ever walked. Every where we go we get cheers

4
and handshakes and oh such boska smiles from the girls! Then when we get ashore the people all nudge each other and wisper "Australians", just as if we weren’t English! But at any rate we get on well enough with them, the old slouch-hat does the trick.

We had real hard work disembarking. First we saw the 350 wounded English men off. This took till 8 P.M. Then the nurses trained for London and we did the porter and wharf labouring with their trunks. They had about 9 each. At 11.40 we whizzed off in the train for Southampton. Sleep was

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out of the question. We sang bellowed and waved & cheered to every station master and lonely porter we saw. At 4.30 A.M., dead tired, we arrived at S’hampton. We ate some ships biscuits and waited on the wharf station for the wharf gates to open at 9. All wharves & railway stations are carefully guarded in England. Then we set out on a 3 mile march for our destination, Southampton Rest Camp on the common. We all marched like vets for the blooming town turned out to see us. Everyone wanted to shake hands, so we were given the order to march easy.

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6
For two days we were quarantined so we had no leave. Then we got 4 days. Of course we all made off immediately for London. They paid us the measly sum of £4 to ‘do’ London on. But we had one free ticket to take us anywhere & back on the British Isles, and as many half fare ones as we wanted. I got my free one to Cambridge via London, so needed no others.

Well, you’ll just simply have to wait till I get back to hear what we did & saw in London. But those four days were absolutely the best days of my existence so far.

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7

We went all round in cars. Saw Westminster, St Pauls Whitechapel, Picadilly, Harrods The Tower, the Bridge the War works, the Alhambra – Paladium & two other Theatres, Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Castle, the B. Museum, in fact most of the good things. Some of the chaps met Lords and other things of note and were invited to Banquets etc. Some bumped Amy Castles who gave them a tea at the "Cecil" & sang to them afterwards. But every one treated us hansomly & were we were jolly glad we were Australians. On the Sunday I went to Cambridge only to find Mr. H was in Scotland. Well, I wrote & wired and tried had to interview him, but have

8
come away without doing so. But even if I have to break leave I will see him when I come back to England. Please tell Father how sporty it was of him to send me the tenner. I have not drawn it yet because I only got a telegram from the Bank just as the boat was leaving S’hampton to say they had received it, but when I get back again I will be able to pay my debts. I suppose he thought all kinds of things but it would have been no end of a pity not to have seen a bit of Old England.

Now, as to our plans. We are a day off Alexandria Egypt. We take on 600 english wounded and go to Southampton getting there a the end of September. Then we go to Egypt and take Australian wounded to Australia arriving in Sydney the end of Nov about. Kill the fatted calf. Best love to all

Lovingly Dene

[Page 40]

[postcard]

On Active Service

Mrs Arthur Fry
Northcote Rd
Lindfield N.S.W.
Australia

Alexandria

Dear Ma

This is Fryday Wed. 23rd. We are now taking our wounded & leaving for England tonight.

Love to all

Got about 15 lovely letters. Best wishes.
Lovingly Dene.

[Page 41]

[Postcard – Netley Abbey, near Southampton]

[Page 42]

On Active Service

Mrs Arthur Fry
Northcote Rd
Lindfield N.S.W.
Australia

Malta. 27th Sep.

Dear Mother

We arrived at Malta yesterday morning but are not embarking the wounded till 9 this morning. It’s very funny to see the old slouch hats coming round in the funny sandola boats. Australians everywhere! Malta is awfully pretty, I wish I had a box of colours here to colour these cards. We are not likely to get ashore here but we have had a good deal of leave when possible (about 3 days in Alexandria) so must not grumble.

I do hope Wilga has got over the measles without any permanent effects on her beauty. Lovingly Dene.

On Active Service

Mrs Arthur Fry
Northcote Rd
Lindfield N.S.W.
Australia

No stamps available

[Page 43]

[Postcard - Malta Custom House – Barrocca Lift]

[Page 44]

Off Malta

26th Sept.

Dear Mother

We are lying off Malta where we will take on another 180 wounded Australians. Some of the chaps are terribly mutilated. This whole business in the Dardenelles will become more serious every day. We work 24 hours per day now. We are all well. Will arrive in England about Oct 2nd

Dene

On Active Service

Mrs Arthur Fry
Northcote Rd
Lindfield, Sydney
N.S. W
Australia

[Page 45]

[Postcard - Alexandrie – Rue Cheriff Pacha]

[Page 46]

[Envelope front]

28th Sept
5 Oct 1915

From Dene
On active Service
No stamps available

Mr Arthur Fry
Northcote Road.
Lindfield, Sydney,
N.S.Wales
Australia

[Page 47]

[envelope rear – blank page]

[Page 48]

No. 1 Aust. Hosp. Ship
"Karoola"
28th Sep. 1915.
Mediterranean Sea near
Gibraltar

My Dear Father

I am writing this in the hope of getting it off at Gibraltar but I’m afraid there is not much hope of that, for I doubt if we will go up to a wharf at all. We have just taken the last of the wounded for this trip from Malta. We expect to arrive at Southampton on Monday 4th Oct. We quite look forward to old Southampton for we have made a number of friends there – a thing you don’t do much of in Egypt. I made a

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enquiries at the Base Record’s office in Southampton Alexandria concerning a few friends and relatives & just in case any friends of yours happen to have no news of relatives and require it, the place to write to is; The Sergeant of Enquiries, Base Records Office, 19 Rue Ramleh, Alexandria.

They have the latest concerning everyone gone to the peninsula. In the event of their being still in Egypt however, they cant assist in locating. You might keep this address. Well, I put in the names of Rollie Rogers Uncle Jim Harold Reg & Thompson. The first two came up first, and I was so shocked to receive the curt message – killed in action – in each case, that it quite knocked the waiting for news of the others out of my head.

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I suppose everyone has been awfully upset about poor old Uncle Jim. I can only say how awfully sorry I am too. It’s dreadful: but if you were over here and saw & heard of the suffering and the dreadful deaths some are dying weeks after being wounded, you would no doubt join with me in rejoicing that he died a sudden death. Imagine my surprise when, just as I turned to leave the injury office, on the foot of the stairs I walked right into Cairns Anderson. He has been promoted to 1st Lieut now, and was only a week out of hospital, the result of a flesh wound in the arm and chest. We had a great yarn and he was very upset about Uncle Jim, for you know hew was under him in the same Batallion, and

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his very words were "We could have spared the Colonel better." Everyone speaks well of him and loved him as a leader. We have two of his men on board this very boat now who say they would have gone anywhere with him. Another man who was decent enough to console with me when he knew I was a relative was Lieut-Col MaConachy, a friend of Mr. McMillan’s All I could gather concerning the business was to the effect that he was hit when 500 yards behind the firing line, probably by a stray, and the death was sudden. The 19th had only been in action about 8 or 10 days. That was all. Sed miles sed propatria.

It is dreadfully bad luck about Rollie Rogers too. He was killed in a great charge of the 18th Batallion,

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in which out of 1150 men, 750 were lost in the first four hours. There are probably more of my friends amongst those 750, all of whom were in camp at Liverpool with me. I heard too, that [indecipherable] Ross was wounded, is that so? I would like very much to get news of Harold & Reg and would like their addresses sent to me. On the 24th of Sep the 12th Light Horse had been in action about a week, but Rowland Harrison was all right. Tell Alan to send me Thompson’s address, and to be sure and send me his when he leaves. The best way to address letters to me now is
Pvt. D.B. Fry 4992
A.A.M.C.
No. 1 Aust. Hosp. Ship Karoola.
A.I.F.
Intermediate Base Depot
Cairo. Egypt

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It was lovely to get a mail in Alexandria. There was only one from Mother and none from Dorothy or you though, so I presume I only got a percentage of them. Still it was very nice.

There is not any chance of me getting on with any Biological work so that the chances are that I will remain as a private. I am working with the pathologist which is great work and right in my line. My boss is Sergeant Eadie who is Col. Craig’s private x-ray & pathologist. He is a great chap and we have great fun being sick together when staining tissue and making blood tests. We have the rottenest little room overhanging the propellers and when using the microscope it flies up and gives you a black eye every now and again. But still, I’m glad

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I’m not amongst the suffering in the wards. The wounded chaps are in various stages of getting worse and better. Some are as lively as crickets, others are helpless as babies. Their wounds are too awful for description and their suffering too morbid to dwell upon. There are 7 operations to day – 2 amputations. When one of the men was coming to after the op. he went through all the actions of a man charging, and certainly gave us a fine display of trench language. His idea of the Turk’s pedigrees and social position though, were too much for the nurse, "who told an orderly to sit on his chest. But its’ all "very terrible, and the poor chaps are always upset when they hear what they have said & done while under the anaesthetic, but more than that, are

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ashamed to think they ‘squeaked’ that is the spirit of them all. Australia is now a nation, the greatest fighting nation of our hemisphere. If Australians only knew what her boys have done, are doing, & will do, they would not give the foolish twaddle they do in their papers as a means of raising recruits. There is no one on the peninsula except Sheiks who can go with them, no one who will follow them. For this reason they lead every move. But I have formed lots of opinions, some about Kitchener’s army and England’s sluggish methods which I will not give here – as I am still a soldier. But when I get back I’ll tell you.

A story

Bill enquired today to see if he could get some pay before going into convalescent hosp. in England. "I’ve lost my pay book," he said, "and they would not give me any in Alexandria, but I must have money Sir." Where did you lose it "said the Colonel. "In the last charge, sir"!! said Bill.

Well I hope everyone is as well as I am. Is Hazel drawing the allotment regularly?

Whips of love to all. Your loving son

Dean

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5th Octr. 15

Southampton

P.S.

Since writing the letter we have had some further experiences. We did not stop at Gibraltar so I could not post the letter. Just off Corunna, north coast of Spain we got at S.O.S. message and had to turn back. We ran as hard as we could go and found a British Steamer on the rocks of the Spanish Coast. They were It was about 7000 tons. She was hard and fast and obviously

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half full of water. Thank goodness the sea was only moderate so that a few hours work landed the 30 passengers on deck of our boat. So now we have ship-wrecked women & children as well as wounded. The following morning we put in a couple of hours picking up debris and a life boat in the Bay of Biscay to try & identify the boat from which they came. Probably torpedoed. Kitchener does provide lots of excitement for us. He’s awfully good. Well, we are just about to unload our wounded in Southampton. Best luck Dene.

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On board H.M.A.S. A 67.
H.M.A.T.
Posted Southampton 19 Oct 1915

My dear Dorothy

Well, how is everyone? No doubt things are going on much the same as before I left. It’s a failing with people who leave home for awhile to think that things change isn’t it? Jim and I are OK, very much so. Both of us are feeling very fit indeed. All the letters I have written to Mother, and the postcards to the rest of the family have given little bits of news, but I intend this letter to be a kind of record of the doings of our unit. Most of the chaps keep a diary, but I think an account written in letter style would be better. Of course, as it is to be a kind of record for myself afterwards I intend to stick strictly to dates, so that you will have to forgive some of these precise details.

To commence at the beginning. At about 8.30 AM on Wednesday 14th July. 1915, we arrived at the Quay, ready to embark on the Troopship "Orsova", A 67. A number of friends were here congregated, mixed with the great crowd who had assembled to see the boat leave the wharf. We halted for a short time, just enough to have a few words with our friends, and then passed through the gates, up the gangway, and down to our quarters on the 3rd class deck. Here we stayed for about an hour. When the boat commenced to move slowly from the wharf we were allowed on decks. At the same time too, the gates of the wharf were opened

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and the crowd simply poured through. Everyone was greatly excited, and jostled & hurtled along the wharf to find their particular friends on the boat. A crowd of people down to say farewell to Jim soon located us, and as I knew them all, I didn’t in the least feel lonely. Then the streamers were thrown, in hundreds & hundreds. It’s a pretty habit this streamer throwing, and as it stretches & runs out it gives you a funny feeling to be holding the ship end of it. It must have been a great sight from the wharf, you will have to ask Alan about that, but from the ship it was simply splendid.

The cheering as the boat drew out was magnificent both from the boat and from the shore. The thousands of streamers gradually lengthened and drew out, the tangled & twisted ones snapped one by one and fluttered slowly to the water, till only a few long gay streaks retained connection with the wharf. But there is a last in everything, and as the lone survivor of these paper strips finally broke, and with lazy flaps settled in the harbour water, there once more broke out a rousing cheer. It lasted for minutes. We roared ourselves hoarse, and in any lapse of the din beside us we could hear the answering roar from the wharf. But it finally died down and we began to find it hard to pick out our friends on the wharf. Individually, they were no longer distinguishable, but I could pick out the bunch of colour which represented our friends, and in the middle, the patch of Khaki which was Alan. It was awfully decent to Alan to come down, it quite made it worth while for me. Over this side too, we meet our friends and they are all in Khaki. We begin to wonder whether there is anything but Khaki in the world now. We soon rounded the Quay and the wharf was lost to sight, just as a misty rain commenced. It will take more than water to wash that farewell

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scene from my mind. I can’t convey it too to you, just as I can’t the many wonderful sights I have since seen, or the many wonderful things I have since heard. Splendissimus! Splendissimus is the only adjective for it.

We did not leave the harbour til 4 that afternoon. It was an aggravating delay, but it couldn’t be helped, and we have since learnt to cease to wonder at delays. There’s not to reason why in this army of ours. But nevertheless, that doesn’t erase the tiresomeness of waiting idly round.

A sea trip is always a sea trip, and it has its little ups and downs. Sometimes they are big ups & downs : then things get lively, but when you are travelling non de lux as we are, the minor variety of ups & downs are quite sufficient. A few of the boys were sick between Sydney & Melbourne, but for a wonder, I was not. At the first mess we were able to see who were on board. We found New South Wales Infantry, 3 companies of about 180 men each, a number of Queensland A.M.C, probably about 50, and our own unit, No. 1 Australian Hospital Ship, about 88 in all. The men occupied 3rd class quarters (but slept in hammocks) the non-commissioned officers 2nd class, and the officers & nurses 1st class. The four colonels had suites de lux. This was the crowd as far as Melbourne. Nothing occurred till Thursday Afternoon, the day after leaving Sydney. We suddenly noticed the boat slew round & two rowing boats lowered. One of the men had fallen overboard aft. They cruised round for about an hour, and then returned with the life buoy. But the poor chap was never seen

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to rise again. We fell in for parade & the roll was called. He will never see the Dardanelles, poor chap, but perhaps it’s just as well.

At noon on Friday, 16th July we berthed at Port Melbourne Pier. Here we stayed, wondering if leave would be granted, till the following day at noon. On Friday about 2.30, the advance guard of a band of Royal Australian Artillery come on board. As they approached the colonel came to the well deck & ordered no cheering. But a soldiers welcome is never done by halves & we gave them three good ones, & they responded. For this we were ordered below for an hour. If you only knew how we hated the below decks, you would understand how we resented this. But the picket pitied us, and long before the hour was up we had sneaked up on deck again. There was a real Melbourne fog hanging over the bay and little to do and nothing to see. But at 4 o’clock the fog lifted & we could catch a glimpse of the shore. I must say there is something cold & foreign about Port Melbourne, something quite un-Australian about it. I can’t explain what it is, but that is how it impressed me. It became quite evident that no leave would be granted & that evening, quite as evident that the Infantry intended to take it. At about 7. oclock a disturbance occurred on the gangway and the sentry was pushed aside. We heard the clatter of boots on the steps and then crowd streamed onto the pier and shouted to their more timid friends to join them. A great crowd went off. But the affair which might easily have become serious, was checked in short time by an officer who jumped to the head of the

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gangway & stopped the first man who came up to him with a blow of his fist. But it did not add to his popularity, and in the Australian Army these little incidents are liable to be nursed. The men fell in in fours and one of their number posed as an officer. In this way they got through the guard at the gate. Cute wasn’t it? They all returned that night in various stages of sobriety. However, no effort was made to check the men, & no punishment was meted out to them. Strange? No! In the meanwhile the "Demosthenes" (A.64), had departed with nearly two complete Victorian Batallions, from the Pier, right opposite us. The authorities made the bloomer of opening the gates to the crowd too late, and in consequence they arrived too late to throw streamers and their farewell gifts to the soldiers. They gave us cheers & we gave them cheers. Later on we passed them, but we did not see them again. However, its an ill wind that blows no body any good, and it blew in my direction to the effect of a nice box of chocolates and a sweet piece of wattle. A girl threw it to me and told me it was meant for someone else, but alas! However she said she was glad a soldier had got it, but that there was something inside the box which I need not keep. I can keep a secret tho’. The piece of wattle I intended to wear in London. It’s keeping well, I often look at it. Such is life.

Before we left Melbourne, the "Kyarra" with her 500 Australian wounded, have a arrived. They drew up to the wharf just as we drew out of it. She was a magnificent sight. The wounded men lined every available

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rigging, spar, or deck space. Some had no appearance of being wounded, while others had every sign of it. It was a stirring sight. They gave us three hearty ones (as usual) and, as usual we put our own throats out of action for a few more hours. A day or two out from Melbourne we met rough weather, which lasted right through the bight to Albany. I was oh! so sick for a while. Most of us were in fact. Jim was all right, he’s never been sick yet. At 2.20 P.M. on Thursday 22nd we tied to a buoy at Fremantle. Here again no leave was given, and again the Infantry took it. But the difficulty of getting to the shore and back resulted in nearly eighty being unable to get back to the ship in time. We left Fremantle at 2. A.M. on Saturday 23rd and the above number were left behind & posted as deserters. At Fremantle we took on the ballance of one of the A.M.C. units, 30 men and a no. of nurses belonging to Col..Hashman’s Convalescent Home, bound for England. I forgot to add that at Melbourne we added to our complement about 200 Tasmanian Infantry, reinforcements to the 26th Bat, and 500 Artillery, no 50 nurses and about 100 A.M.C. men.

The Indian Ocean was very calm. Every night concerts were held. These concerts are grand, but it needs someone specially endowed to portray the bohemian atmosphere of one of them. The "Australia Night" concert was easily the best of the lot, and we had programmes specially printed and sold, realising £150 for our wounded. The officers shelled out like sports

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The concert was held on the well deck, so that the galleries were formed by the ends of the promenade & boat decks, a real amphitheatre. One of the Colonels conducted it. The nurses & officers turned out in evening & mess-dress, and the whole was brilliantly lit by electric light. I think every man must have been present with the exception of those on guard. They lined the boat-deck, hung in the most awkward & cramping positions from all spars, and lined the two derricks like flies. The fact that they were looking straight down on the performers melon didn’t matter at bit, in fact it was most useful in the case of a few who were ‘not wanted’. We had an orchestra, a string & reed one too, and a brass band, as well as a good piano. The performers were very good, quite up to good concert standard. But the impression was not created by the entertainers, it was the atmosphere of glorious revellry which prevailed. It was a fresh night and everyone seemed to be the same. The boat rolled lazily from side to side, and the breeze now hushed, now strengthened the voice of the person doing his or her "little bit". All the time there was good natured chaff in abundance, and he humour amongst the men is wonderful. They have the nack common to this class of chap, of saying the correct thing at the correct time, in the most picturesque type of interjection. An immitator of Harry Lauder (and a very very good one too) was greeted by loud scotch wows. Wow! Wow! Almost female screams. Another rather poor turn was first counted out

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and then a wit from somewhere up aloft slowly let a very large ripe pumpkin slowly down almost in his arms. on a rope It simply brought the house down, and it had its effect. One of the Tasmanian Infantry dressed in ladies evening dress simply looked a big dear. How on earth he rigged himself up I don’t know. He sang "Thora" in the highest feminine voice straight at the blushing & most uncomfortable colonel on the stage in front of him. The crowd were in roars, and each time this gawky-limbed, loose-jointed, apparition of femininity lurched towards the colonel with out stretched arms and sang "Come. Come. COME", - well, you should have heard the roars of anguish and delight from the chaps. It’s on occasions like this that we can get back on the ‘heads’, who at other times wont come when we desire their presence. But I can’t make a picture of this animated scene appear real, so I won’t try further. But it It is one of the things which will remain forever in my mind. That men on such serious missions could plan, arrange, carry out such a frivolous affair, some people would have put down to the "irresponsibility" of the Australian soldier. Perhaps so. Australia’s name is forever mud in Egypt : he has been irresponsible there. But we have heard so many grand tales of our chaps "irresponsibility" in the Gallipoli fighting, that I for one put a great part of their success down to this don’t care spirit of nonchalance. And so in this evening they did not have room in their heads, men & officers alike, for the more serious side of their undertaking. Yes

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They are, without a doubt, little different from their predecessors who have made history in Gallipoli.

The sports in connection with the "Australia Day" went off equally well. Over £40 was distributed in prizes. As you can imagine we have many fine athletes on board. The boxing was the most popular feature, and the nurses enjoyed the "brutal" sport very much.

Right through the Indian ocean we were accompanied by the schools of flying fish. They are peculiar little chaps, and their flying consists of an aeroplaning motion with an occasional ricochet. We passed close to the Cocos Keeling, and it seemed a pity we could not run over and have a look at the Emden. One of the boys on board is making his second attempt to get to the front, and was with the 40 original transports whom the ‘Sydney’ was convoying when she demolished the Emden. He describes how she swung out from the line, almost hidden from view in her own smoke, and how a Japanese cruiser an hour later, leapt right across the line of Transports, and with one sweep of her guns trained them all on a speck that appeared on the horizon where the Sydney had disappeared. It must have been a stirring time.

Once in the Tropics it became too hot to sleep below, and we were allowed to take our beds on deck. A blanket over boards isn’t the softest thing, but we are quite used to it now. My hips area more like Camels knees than anything else now after a few weeks of sleeping on the floor. Who wouldn’t be a soldier.

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There wasn’t much work to be done on the trip across the Indian Ocean. They gave us a good many parades, but otherwise they gave us there was little excep occasional picket & fatigue party work. However I was snared for 3 weeks work in the isolation ward below decks. It was disagreeable work, and during the day time I had little or no time on deck.

We turned into the Gulf of Aden on the 5th August. Here we met the only Monsoonal weather of the whole trip, and it nearly blew the boat out of the water. At 2.30 P.M on the 6th Aug we came in sight of land. Although the trip could not be said to have dragged, it was nevertheless a welcome sight. The mountains run sheer into the sea, & great picturesque contours make it scenery never to be forgotten. From the point of view of defense I should think that Aden had potentialities of a Gibraltar. We gradually came in view of the town, and drew up to a buoy in full view of it, and not more than ½ a mile distance from the shore. It is a quaint town. The buildings are of course of the common Arab type, square, the average one of a very fair size, and all of a white or grey tint. The public buildings near the water’s edge have long imposing columnades and ‘platzes’, cobbled square. The hills rize rise to a hight of 1200 feet almost from the wharves, so that quite a big portion of the town is situated on the hill side. Vegetation is singularly absent. On the crest of the many of the hills are lookout & wireless stations, while a fortified portion is visible once you enter the harbour. In the bay lay the first armoured merchantman I have seen. These boats are most formidable looking ships, with their 4.7’s, maxims and torpedo tubes. They are well manned & like a warship are painted that drab grey.

We soon had the regular flotilla of small Arab craft around us. In the Australian Tommy they found a soft mark

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for their cheap goods, I’m afraid. The way they manouvre their light boats, jigging all the time and keeping up an incessant chatter, was very entertaining. They sold hoards of post-cards, cigars cigarettes, Turkish delight, mat’s, silk handkerchieves and many other things. I managed to beat one chap down from 6/- to 2/- for 50 cigars. I have since lost some of my best friends through those cigars.

While we were anchored in Aden we saw a party of about 500 Ghurkas with a camel train of ammunition, passing through the town to reinforce a body of defeated English garrison, about 20 miles from the town. A few days before a body of 5000 Turks made an attack on a small observation station 20 miles from Aden. This they took with no difficulty. The garrison, some 500 in number we sent out to meet them and they too were defeated, and lost 50 men, several guns, and all their encoutrements. A proper licking. The result of the Ghurka’s expedition I have not heard; perhaps you have not heard of this little episode? Our chaps would have given anything to have got off for a cut at the enemy, but had to content themselves with thinking what they would have done.

At 2 AM on the 7th we drew out of the bay and passing through Bab-el-mandeb, encountered the Red Sea. It was as smooth as a plate of glass, and as hot as blazes. We soon ran into a slight warm breeze – I think they call it the sorroco sirocco– which carried quite a quantity of dust and hoards of great red locusts. These are like our grasshoppers, about the size of a prawn, and just as red. If my memory serves

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me correctly these same locusts are the identical kind which provided many a feed for John the Baptist or some other biblical desert-trotter. There are a few islands of a high barren nature in the Red Sea, and near the Aden end one small town, popularly known as Hell’s Gates. At dusk on the 9th the land was just visible on each side of us, and Mount Sinai was distinct on the east. This was the entrance to the Gulf of Suez. At daybreak on the 10th we drew slowly up to our anchorage, among many other large steamers, in the harbour (so-called) of Suez. Suez from the harbour has a certain amount of charm. The hills on one side – the African – are high and rugged, and with the sun on them have a quite unique purple haze over them, which together with the pale green of the water, makes a beautiful scheme of colouration. But with the exception of the area of occupied by the town, the whole of the rest of the scene is desert; sand-sand-sand. The buildings of Suez are nothing to look at.

A few of our men landed here, bound for Cairo O.S. In the afternoon we drew up to the wharf and landed the Infantry. They were in great spirits all of them, and were given a splendid send off. These chaps provided most of the fun on the boat, and altogether were the life of the crowd. I had an opportunity to say good-bye to Goog Tyson & Bruce Grant & some of the other chaps I knew, just before they went. They were packed like sardines in very 3rd class carriages for a 7 hour trip to Cairo. One of the last of the many things yelled to us as the train drew out, was from the dry throat of a scotchman who bawled, "Ar’ bet ar’ have ar’ booze afore ye Jock!" They were great chaps, these 3 regmts of 7th reinforcements, and, as we heard afterwards, they were met by with 500 half-starved, dazed and wounded lads, the men who a few days before had left Cairo in just such good spirits, the 6th reinforcements. Yet they will be all smiles when they set out

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such is the way with these men. Some of the A.M.C. and nurses landed here too, our ship was considerably reduced.

At about 6 P.M, just as the dusk was coming on, and there is practically no twilight in Egypt, we weighed anchor and made for the entrances of the canal. We were ordered to parade for there was a British & a French cruiser lying in the entrance and it is an act of courtesy in the entrance and it is an act of courtesy on the part of a troopship to parade the men and salute as they pass the bluejackets who do so much for our protection. They gave us great cheers and cried "Good old Wallabies" "Cheery-ho lads" "Die hard boys" and many other things. These little incidents all all very spicey and we always enjoy passing a battleship – the sailors are such wits. Of course we were so close that we nearly brushed her side. The Frenchies gave us a most weird & remarkable cheer but were very wholehearted. Well, we turned up the canal. Everywhere there were dugouts and trenches. Barbed wire entanglements could be seen covering a belt which in places was 150 yards wide, on the Asiatic side of the canal. The stocky little Ghurkas greeted us everywhere, leaping from the lookouts and tents to run down to the shore and cheer. But we saw little that evening. At daybreak we were up and enjoying the fact that we were passing through the exact spot where the heaviest of the fighting took place El Kantara. The ground is still very disturbed, the remains of dugouts etc, and a line of trenches on the camel’s edge is still inhabited by these faithful Indians. The barbed

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wire entanglements are here very extensive. I doubt if the real traces of the affair will be properly wiped out for years to come.

We noticed away on the desert a slowly moving whirlwind of dust, gradually approaching us. As this drew nearer we saw it was caused by a number of horses galloping. On it came till we could distinguish the turbans of the famous Bengal Lancers. They were out exercising their horses and by way of a little muscle producer they galloped their hardy ponies a distance of about 4 miles, never pulling rein till they propped dear on the very bank of the canal opposite us. Here, by a pretty manouvre, showing what wonderful horsemen they are, they formed two deep & gave us three cheers. We’ve passed a few Australians on the same game, but mostly stationed near one of the many pretty oases-like stations along the route of the canal. They all greeted us with "lucky beggars", and no doubt we are. At about 10 AM on the 12th Aug we drew into Port Said. Said is a large town with some waterfront buildings which are rather imposing. There is an enormous amount of shipping there now, and I should think there was not the slightest reduction in the toll since the war began. We did not draw up to a wharf here, but were only about 50 yards from the shore. The first evening, as we had had no leave at all, we decided that a trip ashore would do us a great deal of good. There was a knotted rope which had been lowered over the stern of the Orsova to enable those who had been swimming in the afternoon to regain the boat, and this we decided to use the next time the

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Orsova is in you look at the height of her stern and you will see you need to be a bit of a monkey to manage the up trip at any rate. And yet it was only necessary to have one chap on board, and that was accomplished by a rope placing a rope under his armpits, and with a series of sudden jerks we managed to yank him on board. Instead of thanking us he wanted to fight everyone at once. Why, I don’t know – we were very gentle, and he simply had to be got on board.

Well, it was one of the 3 days (or rather nights) which comprise the niggers Christmas, and of course the town was in festival. During these three days, the whites always keep out of the blacks ways, because of the many ways which on special occasions like this you can offend an arab. So naturally when we landed in half a doz boatloads on the wharf about 1 mile from our ship, the Egyptian guard refused to allow us to enter the town. Things were at a deadlock when some brainy specimen conceived a brilliant idea. He whipped off into the gloom and tied a white handkerchief round his arm, which is the sign of a picket or city police. He bustled up to us with a most officious air, swearing horribly and demanded in racous raucous tones "What the devil the is the delay" "was" without waiting for a reply he gave the order. "City picket fall in" grabbing some one as right marker, numbered us off, called "Form fours, right" and quick marched us up to the gate which opened like clockwork, and through we went into the city. We broke off when out of earshot, and could hardly stop from choking.

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no wonder they say Australian armies are the most self supporting of any in the world. We had great fun. We wandered about the lit up streets just like you see crowds of chinese seamen doing in Sydney, staring open mouthed at everything that was new. We went out to the bazaar and saw the women in their extraordinary veils and the blackest of kiddies in the whitest of frocks. Billy would love one of these tiny mites as a teddy bear, they have such lovely large innocent looking eyes. We shouted them to big slices of water melon and soon had an admiring million or two round us. As a penny a slice was becoming expensive we simply handed them a few doz off the old joints bench and told them to nick, which they did. The old folk around enjoyed the joke, but the salesman was very irate. We got into the carriages & drove everywhere. I suppose I spent 2 hours in those buggies and my expenses totalled 3 piastres, equivalent to about 7 ½ d. Everything was wonderful to us. A whole mob of people calling at the top of their voices, Allah! Allah! In a monotonous voice for hours at a time is worth listening to. When the horses go too slow we took the reins in our own hands, dumped the cab driver out and told him to wait where he was till we returned. He always grinned for they enjoy a joke as much as any one. Some of these drivers were hair raising, but some – how no one was killed. Things went on like this til midnight, when they quietened just a little. We then wended our way back to the wharf. We got through the guard there with the same ruse, and packing into the many niggers bumboat’s waiting put off for our boat ship. I’ll never forget the climb up that knotted rope at 1 in the morning. I don’t think anyone will either. It was just about our last effort. We got safely in though, and had a good sleep on deck.

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On the afternoon of the 12th a large barge came along side with 350 wounded English Tommies. They were all in different stages of convalescence. These we took on board and prepared to leave the port. But more about the Tommies anon. At about 6 P.M on the 12th we left Said bound for Devonport England, via Gibralta. We did not expect to touch Alexandria. As I promised to port this on this will be a suitable place to make a break. I will continue as the chance offers.

Well, Dorothy how are you all? I’m very fit indeed. Tell Ma that I consider my health has improved in every possible way. The food is rough but good. It is not a [indecipherable] producer though.

I hope the matter here wont be dry in too many places. Its hard to write amid these busy surroundings where one daren’t miss any of the numerous sights which go past like a cinematograph film, from dawn to sunset. Give my love to all. Tell Billy to take my kind regards to Mr Langrove and all the others. I hope he doesn’t owe any calls to his visitors. If Father types this I would be glad if he would allow Mr McCulloch to read one.

Well, good by, best love to all.

Your loving brother

Dene.

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Suez. 1st Nov. 1915
On board

My dear Mother

I have just received no less than 46 letters and about 16 papers and 2 prs of socks! Think of it. It has just been too lovely for words.

When we first came to Egypt from England, after being 10 weeks from home, we got our first mail. You can imagine our excitement; Certainly no event on the trip has excited us to such an extent. Well, we went back to England, stayed there 2 weeks and, the last day before setting out for Egypt & Australia again, I got one letter from Aunt Katie. You can imagine how delighted I was, for we long for letters. Now, 3 weeks later, I have picked up my last mail before seeing you all again. I hold the record for the remit; 38 was next best. I feel quite proud of my relatives & friends, for they all noticed it (especially the sorters) and chiacked me over all my girls. But I’m afraid Ive been acting like a child for the past 24 hours over it; its just too ripping for words.

Therefore I ought not to be unhappy, should I? But I feel quite glum.

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This is why. Lyn Hanson happened to mention in one letter that Alan was leaving by the "Argylshire". As we drew into Suez there was a big Shire boat at anchor there & we all remarked on it. After reading the letter of course I naturally wanted to tear off to her. But it was nearly dust & no boats are allowed to move about after dark here, so it was imposs. The next morning I obtained an hours leave together with Mybur Docker & Max Allworth, both of whom had brothers on her. But, before we had set out, Docker’s brother came about & told us all the men had left for Cairo. You can imagine my bitter disappointment I never felt so done out of anything in my life. And there was no further leave to be granted so I could not go ashore & verify it even.

But this caps everything. To night, 24 hours afterwards, one of the postmen who had been ashore, put a scribbled note from Alan into my hand. It was from Alan. Of course I wondered. But isn’t it the limit. He had seen our boat come in and had recognised her but being then on Orderly Room work he was absolutely unable to get off. Then, he did not go to Cairo the next day, but being up to his neck in work, try as he could he could not get off over. And here was I, half a mile away, resigned to the fact that he was in Cairo. He, knowing I was on board and yet unable to get across that half mile! He scribbled the note today, a few seconds before setting out for Cairo. We leave tomorrow for Colombo.

[Page 78]

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He wished me to tell you he never felt so well in all his life and is feeling absolutely fit. But I feel too downhearted to give you any news ma dear; I just felt I had to write this; and yet I cant post it so that it will get you much before I arrive back. Still, I will add to it as news crops up and post it at, say Adelaide, just as the news of the trip. Good night all!

Well, this is the 30th. We expect to be in Adelaide in two days. I sent a telegram from W.A. Did you get it?

After leaving Suez I was transferred to Ward work as there was nothing doing in the Lab. The work is strennous and uninteresting: I have not done one dressing since I have been in the ward – and it is a surgical ward too. The sisters do it all. In Fremantle I got 9 letters and 7 papers and again topped the score. It’s great to get letters I can tell you. Father is a brick to write like he does – they all contain just the news I want and I enjoy them very much. It makes me laugh though, for he allw always commences by saying he supposes I will never get this one, but I should think that, even tho’ some are delayed, th I get all he sends, some even in duplicate. Colombo is just lovely.

[Page 79]

We had 6 hours leave, and went for rickshaw rides. We were going out to Cinnamon Gardens in these man hauled affairs when we caugh the Colonel & Major Smeaton en route to the same destination, so we told the niggers we would give them an extra penny to beat the Colonel. We went flying past him, and as we saluted, taking fine care he saw us, he beamed all over his face. I believe he saw the joke. The trip across the Ind. Ocean was not absolutely calm, but I have improved as a sailor, and so far, have been sick only once day all the way from England. A re reception crowd came on at Fremantle, as indeed at Colombo, to give things to those on board who were unable to get on deck to the concert which they provided the night before from the decks of a near by ferry boat. They were very well meaning but oh the mess in our scruplously clean wards! If we have one at Adelaide Melb. And Sydney I ought to be very fat on my return.

There are numerous rumours about our plans and itinerary. We may only call at Sydney en route to Brisbane. Then we may come to Sydney by train from Melbourne. No one knows till we get to Sydney Melb on Sat next. I will wire from there. We hahad no leave at Fremantle. Will post this from Adelaide. I hope to find everyone very well. I am OK myself.

Your loving son Dene.

[Page 80]

[Commonwealth of Australia telegram]

Fremantle WA 13 1/ 10 pm for mng dlvy

Fry

Lindfield Sy

Arrived Fremantle very well want transfer Infantry

Love all

Dene

8 35 am

[Page 81]

From Dene

27 Nov. 1915

[Page 82]

[Y.M.C.A. Sydney, N.S.W – Field Service Department envelope ]

From Dene Liverpool Camp undated [recd. 11 Jan 1916]

Mrs Arthur Fry
Northcote Road
Lindfield
North Shore Line, Sydney

[Page 83]

[rear of envelope – blank]

[Page 84]

[Y.M.C.A. Sydney, N.S.W – Field Service Department letterhead ]

Pvt D.B. Fry 4992
D Coy 3rd Batt
Inf. Depot Liverpool

Dear Mother

Just a line to let you know my address. It is as above. Here I will stay till the preliminary Depot Officers Training school commenses about the 18th prox. I have a fair chance of getting into this. Alec is in E Coy of the 3rd Batt near bye. I reckon have had a record try to get to Liverpool and you cant imagine how I appreciate being allowed the favour of serving my country again! But today the Lieut was quite decent. The place fairly reeks with Uni students at present, and the crowd I’m with aren’t had at all. A boy named Bolton from Killara and Carruthers & Hawkins from Lindfield. Well, best love, will try to get down before you go to Tuggerah. Your loving son

Dene.

[Page 85]

Dear Mother

My address is Sgt D.B. Fry No 9 Officers Training School, Royal Military College, Duntroon, Federal Territory. So far we have been working awfully hard with reveille at 5.30 and lectures after tea. We go hard all day with only ¾ of an hour for meals and always come straight off parade to meals, except tea, when we get off at 5 & tea is 6.30. All the states are represented here and there are a fair number of returned men. The college is strictly out of bounds. Today, Sunday, we have been on fatigues all the morning but this afternoon some of us are going for a stroll up Mt Ainsley when a great view can be had.

The programme for next week is a snorter. The last Depot School was nothing to it. Love to all

Dene

[Page 86]

[Commonwealth of Australia Letter Card]

Mrs Arthur Fry.
Northcote Rd.
Lindfield.
North Shore Line. N.S.W.

[Image]
Signalling exercise

[Page 87]

Officers’ Training School.
Duntroon
Federal Territory
5th Apr 1916.

Dear Father

I was very glad to hear from you as I had only the smallest not from mother. Besides you always do hit the very news that interests me, I noticed it particularly when I was away. The family would write yards of stuff which in cases was humorous or more or less interesting in a light way, but when I came to analise it for news of home and the doings of people I was interested in, there was rarely anything at all. I think it takes a man to pick the news another man wants to know.

The marriage was not a knock out blow to me, for Olly had hinted to me.

[Page 88]

But not realising that he had been in the Mil. so long now & might be going any time, it came and at caught me unawares. It will be very bad luck indeed if I cant get to so important a family function, especially with Alan away too. How much Alan would like to be here! But with me Australia at present it will make it doubly hard luck to be prevented from attending. The school is supposed to finish on the 18th, but there is undoubtedly a chance of it continuing on. I will make every effort & let you know in good time. If I am unable to be there I would be glad if you would personally tell Hazel that I wish her all the good luck such a fine little girl could have bestowed upon her by the gods, & that Olly may return safely. To Olly also give him my very best wishes for all luck & happiness. We are still going for our lives here. Write concerning arrangements Loving Dene

P.S. over

[Page 89]

P.S. Fancy you and Uncle Eric having been here so long ago. You would not know the place: the old homestead is still there but directly in front of it are 5 open spaced palacial homes occupied by General Parnell, the Chief of Staff, the Director of Miliary Art and 2 professors. The buildings are about as extensive as the University tho’ not nearly so fine & the quarters are quite like a suburb. The Royal Military College in fact is a wonderful and most surprising place. There is a large barrack square, a magnificent gym & lecture rooms. It mus haf have cost a hundred thousand or more. It is distributed around the old homestead of Duntroon, overlooked by the hill on which General Bridges lies buried 15 feet into solid granite – where Jacko snipers can no longer reach him. We are round the hill facing the Molongolo valley, nearly or pretty well exactly East. I have not been out of camp, & the College is out of bounds, we only march through & go to occasional night lectures there, so there is not much hope for of looking for your little dam.

Dene

[Page 90]

Duntroon
12th Apr 1916

Dear Mother

I can just imagine the state of our respectable household. I suppose father is the only one who acts like a rational being, unless Bill too, is rational. Perhaps tho’, Hazel has a lucid interval occasionally, and the next one that occurs, explain to her that its bad form to show letters written to her to anyone else, for some people cant help letting things out. I’m only joking.

It is now evident that the school will finish on the 18th & we will arrive in Sydney late that evening or early next morning 19th. So that’s satisfactory. We have no idea how things are going. The Gov. General, General Foster & some notables were here yesterday, and at one of the College Captains’ lectures

[Page 91]

General Parnell announced that there would be many disappointments, for they had found that Duntroon was a splendid training place for N.C.O’s! That means that many men have been brought under false pretences that commissions were possible to them, whereas they had no intention of turning them out as anything else but Non Coms. So its very likely that I’m one of them. Anyway I hope Major – has not forgotten my existence.

I have met many fine chaps here. Two or three I must certainly bring up. A chap named Farleigh (father is an M.L.C. or whatever the upper house is called) is a fine chap, and Grant and Gordon Cameron who knows the Turramurray Frys & [indecipherable] are also sports. A great pal of mine is Duncan Osbourne, a lad of the first water – aged 46, in mil. circles 39, who owns half of N.S.W. (Mrs Rose’s pal) too, is here. He is a trooper, and amuses the pay clerk by drawing

[Page 92]

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1 bob per diem, & leaving an allotment to his wife! The other day he took some L.H. pals of his to Barrenjuck in a car, the trip cost him £15; that wasn’t done on 1 bob a day? He’s very fat and one of the funniest men I’ve ever met. He wears the 2 S. African ribbons and weighs 17 stone, & t’other day the G.G. beamingly came up to him & asked him who he was in Africa with. He replied, "The Bushman contingent sir" the G.G. laughed & Ossy seeing the joke explained he wasn’t so fat then. The other day the O.C. said "You havn’t shaved to day Osbourne." "No Sir" he said, "I started to shave and the razor tickled my throat and made me cough, and my cold is awful bad sir!" fancy the hide.

On Sunday we have hired a car to go to Barranjuck. This will be the first time I’ve been out of camp. The exes are only 35/- each & we go through Yass, a distance of about 50 miles there & 50 back. It ought to be fine. One of the Bartlett boys from Hercules St. C. is here & is a very nice chap. Give my love to the family and tell Hazel not to get excited over details and to be sure and be a little late, its good form

Your loving son
Dene.

[Page 93]

Posted at Fremantle, W.A.
30 Aug. 1916
A. 18

Dear Father

This is Sunday and so far we have had a fair trip. Although the sea is fairly rough this boat is 50% a finer sea vessel than the Orsova, and rides them well. But there is a tearing head wind and biting cold weather making it necessary for us to wear overcoats and balalavas all day. The ships the crests all over the fore hatch where we are billeted and only today got drenched going for aid. I have never seen less sea-sickness on any vessel, leave alone a troop-ship, but Spence is disastrously ill. We are all disgusted tho’ at the way he has taken it and

[Page 94]

seems to be making no effort to fight it. We were to have made straight for Dunbar S.A. but we are now going to call in the [indecipherable] no doubt for a very brief stay only. The ship is full of Duntroon school men which makes it very nice. The Ship’s Sergeant Major, who is the senior N.C.O. of the ship, passed junior to me at Duntroon, but still I’m only a Lance Sergeant. However, I’ve given up worrying now and if it suits the powers to send the men into action under less qualified men then I’m sorry for them that’s all. We had a concert the other night, but it was not in the same street as the Australia Day concert on the Orsova.

We left the Show ground at 3.30 on Tuesday morning, and when

[Page 95]

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we got out of the gates there were hundreds of women & children waiting, many babes in arms. The endeavours of these poor exposed people to find their husbands & lovrs were pitiful. It was very cold & pitch dark too, so you can imagine their difficulty when there were 1500 of us. As we marched down Bourke St & down to Woolloomoolo gases were lit & people scantily clad rushed onto balconies & into the street to cheer us on. It was a remarkable sight, but horribly dismal. The crowd were given ½ hour to say goodbye at the wharf, just

[Page 96]

4
as dawn was breaking. This was a wretched spectacle and many children clung like glue to their fathers. Embarkation was finished at 8.30 & we pulled out. The crowd were let on to the wharf & hundreds of streamers were thrown. Stuart was down on the wharf on duty, and Biden was Sergeant of the guard on the wharf, which was very nice.

Well Father I wont be able to write for a long time now. I will send any cables to Marion who will send them on. With very best love to all, & hoping grandma has improved

Yours affectionately

Dene

[Page 97]

[Postcard]

No stamps available
On Active Service

At Sea

Dear Mother

We have left our first port of call in Springbokland and are nearing our second. The weather bids fair to be calm round the Cape & I hope it is. So far I’m feeling very well indeed.

Give my love to all

Your loving son

Dene

Mrs. Arthur Fry
Northcote Rd
Lindfield
New South Wales
Australia

[Official stamp: A.I.F. Passed by Censor No. ]

[Page 98]

[Postcard scene: West Street, Central, Durban

[Page 99]

Royal Hotel.
Durban.

16th Sep. 1916.

Dear Mother

We arrived in Durban yesterday & got off Friday afternoon & evening & all day today, and I fancy we will on Sunday too. One boatload of Australians behaved dreadfully here & men lying all over the streets drunk and broke up a shop, so the mayor closed all hotel to Soldiers. This is a great idea & so our chaps are behaving very well indeed. The Mayor gave us the freedom of the City and a civic welcome & we got nothing but kindness on all sides, especially from the ladies (matron!) They gave us books & cigarettes, and lots of the chaps have been asked out to dine. I have an invitation from a dear old scotch lady for Sunday & I intend to go if I possibly can. They have a boer servant lady who has two

[Page 100]

two perfectly sweet little girls, one about as old as Bill & the other about two years old. They are the dearest little kids imaginable and are allowed to come into the drawing room and all. I was there for an hour yesterday for afternoon tea & the old dame is perfectly sweet. She shakes hands with her two hands & is most genuinely glad to see soldiers.

There is a great beach here and Im going down presently as its Sat. afternoon & all the population goes there. The ladies have good complexions here and I haven’t seen a dark one yet they are all blue eyes & fair, so you see I’m quite safe, for they are sure to like dark boys. The Zulus are the most magnificent specimens of men I have ever seen, & those who pull the rickshaws adorn themselves & paint up wonderfully. The city is not a large one but it has one fine street, West Street.

I was not sick at all coming over & we had one big storm too. I think the Karola broke me in. Well Mother dear give my love to all & hoping grandma pulled through that awful pneumonia.

Your loving son

Dene

[Page 101]

[postcard]

Mrs. Arthur Fry
Northcote Rd
Lindfield
New South Wales
Australia

[1]

How is the allotment?

Cape Town 21/9/16

Dear Mother
We had a few hours leave here but it was at night & we could not see the town. We just strolled about & had two big feeds. Some of the buildings are very fine & the table Mountain is wonderful. Am feeling very well.
Love to all
Dene

[Page 102]

Mrs. Arthur Fry
Northcote Rd
Lindfield New South Wales
Australia

[Page 103]

4th Oct. 1916

My dear Mother
Here we are at an out of the way place, & I post this on chance only. The trip from the Cape has been smooth the whole way & I’m feeling awfully well. I had an absys on my tooth that troubled me with neuralgia but that’s all right now. We expect to arrive in England Oct 11th
Best love to all, & tell Hazel I will probably try to see Olly in the old dart but am not sure. Dene

Turn the card & its] [indecipherable] Washington’s face below cross.

[Page 104]

Cabeca do Washinton – S. Vincente, Cobo Verde

Turn the card & its] [indecipherable] Washington’s face below cross.

[Page 105]

In the train Exeter
12th Oct.

Dear Mother
Arrived Plymouth today & set out at 6.30 P.M. for camp which they tell us is not Salisbury but Wools or some name that sounds like that near Weymouth. I’m awfully well, but had neuralgia & an absys on the boat. The sea was calm all the way from the Cape. We took 7 weeks & 3 days – a very long trip.
Best love to all
Dene

[Page 106]

The Choir, Exeter Cathedral.

[Page 107]

Bovington Camp
West Camp A.I.F.
Dorset. Eng
17th Oct. 1916

My Dear Mother

I am far too upset and sick at heart to say much Mother dear, for I have just had a telegram from Tommy which tells me Alan died of wounds in France on August fourteenth. I can find no one who knew him intimately round about and so I have to just think of him and turn my sad thoughts over and over in my own mind. Everyone is very sympathetic and some of the returned boys have said some fine things which only those who have been through this hell can say. But we are far from anywhere here and the very locality and weather are cold and cheerless, and I admit I’m down.

Well Mother, as you know your son was not only my brother but my very best friend. I don’t know of anyone who could ever say one word against him

[Page 108]

2
and I’m sure he never made an enemy. The Burns Philp boys will be dreadfully sorry and all the north shore Line lads will I’m sure miss him. It leaves a great blank in my life which only little Bills growing up can fill. I hope Hazel and Dorothy fully realise what Alan has sacrificed and how they should cherish for ever all the kindest thoughts and remembrances of him, and remember that the greatest of all honours are his. "All the world might stand and say – This was a man." He had Uncle Fred’s nature but said as little of his own troubles as did Uncle Jim. Believe me Mother dear, the people in Australia are sadly ignorant of things. But it is best so. The privations of Egypt even, which are sneered at if a man has not been to the front, and which Alan had so much of, were hardly mentioned by him. We have 1000 wounded men here from the Posieres action and all agree that Gallipoli was a mere picnic. France is a battle of mammoth engines and until the people realise we must have men, it will go on

[Page 109]

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in the same equal way.

Its awfully hard to write about Alan. I’m thinking hard of him all the time but your pen cant go fast enough for your thoughts. Tommy has written me a beautiful letter, but I feel oh so lonely through it all, so much on my own, and not an old pal who knew him near me. I could get so much off my chest if I could only chat over his memory with an old pal. I cannot simply cannot say more Mother, you must just all picture me of hope and joy and fortune destitute, and turning it over and over in my tired mind. Father will be ever so proud, and so he should be. He can hold his head as high as the highest, for he is the father of a hero who has done his bit in this crisis. How can the women have anything to do with the boys at home? If everyone would only come forward it would all be over & done with. Birdwood wants 40 000 Australians & he is going to take Lile.

[Page 110]

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There are no soldiers like them. Anzacs especially these lame and sad faced lads all around us, are the pride of the empire. They have acquitted themselves magnificently and paid a cruel price. I feel proud beyond words of Alan just as proud as I felt when I knew dear little Marion was to be all mine.

The question of whether I should go to the front now that Alan has gone must only be solved in one way Mother dear. I will go. Don’t worry over it you know I was born lucky. There is not much chance of us being moved over to France for months. I don’t think I will alter my mind, and even if I wanted it, I probably could not get a transfer. If conscription comes in it might make a difference. I will give it every consideration.

Give my best love to all at home. We have indeed suffered a sad sad thing in our happy home but it is a glorious thing. Goodbye Mother dear.

Your loving son
Dene

[Page 111]

P.S. Explain to people that writing newsy stuff is not very easy at present. Remember me to Lovegroves and all. Hope Aunt Bett & Dulcie enjoyed their trip, give my love to all at Turramurra. Tell Bruce on no account to enlist. Is my allotment (3/- per d.) arriving. See to Alans pay book. Dene

Bovington Camp
West Camp A.I.F.
Dorset. Eng
25th Oct. 1916

[added? 14 Dec/16 22 Dec/16]

Dear Father

We have just got our first mail, 10 weeks old. Mine consists of one from you & 3 from Marion. Also an letter envelope of cuttings from you. Im awfully interested in the extract of poor old Alan’s letter, well, he got it soon enough after going in all right. The Battalion was wiped out, and after 4 days "in", came "out", 80 strong. The whole first division was not as strong as a Brigade after the first week of Posieres. In this battle the Australians relieved some English troops who, being unable to take the village after several tries resulted in severe losses, were withdrawn worn out. The Anzacs were moved by forced marches from Armentierres, Eitape, and some billets near bye, and "went over" one midnight. Twice they tried, and the third

[Page 112]

time drove the Huns back for a mile beyond the village. Then History repeated itself, and as in Gallipoli the boys, carried on by their own enthusiasm, went far beyond their limit, only to suffer heavily from our own artillery barrage. Nothing could stand before them. They have the British staff completely puzzled. They give them impossible things to do and find that the only thing amiss is that they are over done. England gives us our full praise, but does not realise that we cannot reinforce these tremendous losses. That dreadful fortnight found our hospitals full, and a casualty list of 25 000! Lots of the Posieres boys are down at Bovington convalescing, and one is young Mutton from Lindfield. I had a long talk with him, and he talks like a Mons veteran. It’s wonderful how these mere boys take it.

We were sent to London for a couple of days and I went to see Mr Lidgett. He was very nice to me and extended me his hospitality, which, this time, I cannot accept. I told him about Alan & he sympathised in a very nice way. I certainly think he is a fine old gentleman. I believe Ran Magnus is still in London but I could not find him. I met Olly’s cousin who told me where he was, and I telegraphed for him to come down to my Hotel, but

[Page 113]

3
he was ill in bed. I told him by wire about poor old Alan but I have not had a reply yet. Olly will be awfully upset. I would like very much to see him this weekend, and will certainly try. Tommy’s address; Cpl. R. Thompson. H.Q. A.I.F., Bhurtpore Barracks, Tidworth Hants. England. The one you gave me is an old one. He is near Olly & I want to see him this weekend. I have been made a full Sergeant again, one of the boys, a very nice chap too, but not a particularly brilliant soldier, having been reduced to Corporal. I had a letter from Fatty Penfold from France, very jovial as usual. In London I saw Goog Tyson who is now a Captain in the 3rd Btn. He is easily 6’ 3" high and looks very well tho’ wounded. His last of Cairns Niven & Noel was all O.K. I do hope so.

You will be surprised that most of the boys voted No to the Conscription question. Some do not thoroughly understand the copious exemptions and as they leave brothers to support their families they don’t feel inclined to have them sent over. Others say they will not fight beside conscripts, same again, say they don’t see why others should

[Page 114]

4
have to go through the hell they have gone through in France. So I think it remains for the womens vote in Australia to carry it. I wont discuss it here, I’m pretty sore on the question at present.

Well, It’s cold & wet here, and as far as I can see we are settling down for the winter. Don’t think this war will end this coming summer, its only beginning. You need to be over here to realise it. Of course we will win, but not next summer, we have not enough men. The war will only be won by the number of men; that becomes more & more obvious every day.

I have settled down a bit now and the boys have been very good and sympathetic with me. Alan’s death is such a glorious one, that as a soldier I cant help but feel immensely proud. I hope you will all look at it this way too, it will help you very much. The rough boys here are simply splendid concerning the fallen, and it is generally just a silent handshake. I know what it is to wait at home. But cheer up, For how can man die better than facing dreadful odds. For the ashes of his fathers and the Temples of his Gods." Give my very best love to all, & I do hope Grandmas is all night. Your loving son

Dene.

[Page 115]

Bovington Camp.
Dorset.
Oct. 26th 1916

My Dear Mother.

I have written to Father a day ago giving the news, what there is of it, but have just heard that a mail goes tonight so write and include some photos. I’m very disappointed in them, but I didn’t know the camera. Its getting cold & we are all sitting round the small stove in the hut doing a perish. I have a chest cold but not much. Spence is in the Hospital with Pneumonia & Clayton is down with malaria. We don’t seem to be going to France for some time. We are moving to Wareham in Dorset next week. Always address my letters "abroad", not to any particular camp. The old villages in Dorset are charming, but it rains so often we don’t like to go out much. Well mother I hope you are feeling fit & taking things as easy as you can give my love to all

Your loving Son

Dene

[Page 116]

Perham Down
Salisbury Down
12th Nov. 16

My Dear Mother

Last Wednesday I received a letter from Beryl Luke in which she mentioned you were conversant with the sad news. That was the first I had telling me that you knew at home. I have known about 3 weeks now, ever since about the 19th October, but still the letters have been coming and coming with dates up to the 14th Sep, and all were cheerful & bright, and they all found me as heavy as lead and just wondering how I could ever face the future with any interest. They made it particularly hard for me here, and only reminded me more & more of what Alan was to us all. About 2 days after Beryl’s letter, which was a perfectly sweet one, I got Hazel’s. Hazel’s was most comforting too, and written in such an understanding way, it was just great, Olly is the luckiest chap in the world. Poor Kid, I’ll bet she has been just the bravest of all at home, and yet I know only too well

[Page 117]

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what Alan was to her. Now to-day, Sunday just after Church parade I have Fathers & yours. I think you are very brave Mother dear, but of course you cant help being the proudest woman in the world through all your grief. I know everyone would be nice & kind to you for your son was much of Uncle Jim in his way of winning people to him. I tell you I have come to value the "man" in men more than their earthly attributes of education and the flimsy skene of plausibility so many attack you with, more & more every day I’m in this army. There are lads in this unit who have befriended your son time & again, men who don’t allow just the mere difference in civilian positions to make any barrier between them, and these are the true men. This is the "man", and yet I couldn’t take them home with me. It’s a funny world. Alan was like that. He was a pal to everybody, and I’ll bet he never did a man a bad turn in his life. Some of the plausible kind I made friends with in Liverpool camp, have turned out despicable rotters without a spark of manhood in them. They feather their own nests and poison peoples minds against others. One is Spence. Bar! I reckon I

[Page 118]

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know the men now.

I have met no one yet who can give me first hand information about Alan’s death. The card say’s, "Died of Wounds France Aug 14th at 21st Casualty Clearing Station, Warloy France." A Casualty Clearing Station is as near to the scene of battle that a rough hospital can be placed. The field dressing station is the only one in the line itself. The C.C S never retains its men longer than to perform operations necessary for saving life, & then draughts the wounded to Base & field hospitals. Alan must have been picked up by the stretcher bearers which was lucky, for only too many men go down in no-man’s land and are soon buried by shellfire. Thus I think mother you can rest assured you will get some of Alan’s private effects. It was indeed lucky he died in a C.C.S. Anyway I’ve been to Head Quarters & have got Col. Anderson on the track. I will never rest till I find the men who were with him when he went down.

I’m glad all the girls have been over to see you. Poor Una, what a great sport she is. I’ll bet all the little reminders she must have got at home were stings to her. It’s dreadful about Alan Blackett & Jack Curtis isn’t it. I have written to their people.

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I’ve sent home to Dorothy a book of Rodin’s statues. I’d like to send everyone something but you will have to wait a while. I sent one of Brangwins famous drawings of Belgium to Mal, I’d like Dorothy to see that some day. We have all been reduced to privates here, they don’t recognise Australian schools at all. I’m disappointed, for many of the men over us know very little even now. But worst of all it leaves me on 2/- per d. so that I cant send too many cables & the such like.

Well Mother I’m on a draught read to go to France. Once more the 1st Div. had been chopped up on the Somme & Col. Price killed. Goog Tyson left today at a minutes notice for France, so they must want Officers badly. Birdwood soars higher & higher on the ref of the Anzacs, but poor Anzacs. I saw a procession, the Lord Mayors procession, in London a few days ago. The reception our troops got was just hear rending, & my word they looked fine too. You cant get away from it. The N.Z. & Austr’s are the goods.

Well everybody I hope you will cheer up soon. Remember me kindly to all who ask after me, & now with best love to all

Your loving son

Dene

Give Billy a kiss from me, dear kid.

[Page 120]

[postcard - apparently censored]

A Fry Esq.

Northcote Road.
Lindfield.
N.S. Wales
Australia

Sund 19th Nov.

Dear Father

My word its cold here. The water is frozen all day sometimes. There is hail & sleet. It snowed on the hills nearby but not here yet. This is [censored]

We wont be here many days & will then go into the line. Tommy came & spent the evening with me before leaving England. Am very well. Love. Dene.

[Page 121]

[postcard]

Fishing boats scene labelled 12. – [apparently censored] (P.-de-C) Le Quai pendant la grande peche)

[Page 122]

Mrs A Fry
Northcote Road.
Lindfield. N.S.W.
Australia

Sund 19/11/16

My dear Mother

Tommy came over to Bhurtpore Barracks to visit me the night before I left.
He’s awfully cut up about Alan, and brought me a letter from Mary from to him to read. Poor old Una, what a brick she’s being. Tommy is very upset to know what to do. He thinks that he should not write home to you because of the unfortunate laps of time since you got the news. I think if you sent that sheepskin vest with flannel sleeves it would be handy.
My word its as cold as charity. I’ve a bit of a cold but am well. Lovingly
Dene

[Page 123]

[postcard]

Fishing boats scene labelled 10. – [apparently censored] (P.-de-C) Barques de peche a mer basse
A.D., Boulogne-sur-Mer – Cliché Caron, Etaples-sur-Mer

[Page 124]

On Active Service with the British Expeditionary Force
France
26 Nov., 1916

[Y.M.C.A.]
Pvt. D.B. Fry, 4992,
3rd Bat. Inf. A.I.F.
1st. A.D.B.D. Sect. 17
France

Dear Mr Thompson,

I wonder how you are getting on. I hope things are going all right and that you both are O.K. I left Australia with a cold and have it still, and they tell me I neednt expect to leave it behind until Ive left France. The difficulty is that we are half the time wet and sleep in wet togs, so the wonder is that everyone does not get ailments much worse than colds. Otherwise Im feeling bery fit indeed. Im dead skinny, as one of the boys says "Why Snow, if you were to come on parade sideways youd be marked absent." Ive just finished what they call the "bullring" some hard and advanced training behind the line, and expect to go up in a day or two now. This camp has soldiers from all parts of the Empire, doing the same bullring : there are lots and lots of Scotties, long Jocks, short Jocks, woolly Jocks and smooth Jocks, and they are great favourites with our boys. Theres something akin Im sure : We get on very well together.

Ive been trying to find out some details concerning dear old Alan, but with no luck. All the 13th. Btn. Boys here left the line before he died. One, a sergeant-major, left on the 13th. Aug. and knew he was wounded then, so the poor chap must have lived a while. They all speak awfully well of him, I think he was a favourite with the Battalion. Capt. Henley asked him to stay behind the line just before going in on the 4th. Aug, as he was battalion orderly clerk, but Alan said "No, I havent had a go at Fritz yet, I’ll go in with the boys this time Captain." And he went in with the battalion on 4th. August, passing poor old Niven Cuthbert as he went in. Niven was well then, but very tired. When I get to the line though, I’LL be able to get some information. He is buried about 7 miles from Albert in the graveyard of the 21st S. Mid. Casualty Clearing Station at Warloy. Poor old chap, I hope he did not suffer much, but that’s too good to hope for. I have nothing but the happiest recollections of Alan, he was more than a brother to me. With the news of my old chum Niven Cuthbert’s death I feel I have not had much comfort, one day with Oliver Watson in London, that’s all. It has wakened it all up again. Niv got a hell of a smack on the right leg and the same afternoon 31st Oct., it was amputated. He was very jovial when his brother Noel went in after the operation and said "Hullo, old man, I got a good blighty all right." He was away to a C.C.S. near Albert, and on the 2nd Nov. Noel saw him again. He was onconscious and died in half an hour, peacefully, without pain. He is buried 1 ½ miles S.E. of Albert, about 6 miles from Alan. Dear old Niv was one of my greatest pals. Well, Im sorry Im not more cheerful, Tompy. Compliments for the season to both of you and all that’s good from your old friend Dene.

[Page 125]

From Dene to Pt. Thompson
France
26 Nov. 1916

[Page 126]

P.S. in envelope are photos needing fixing. Get Wilga to do this. 10 min in hypo, 1 hour in running water. Send Mal, one of the committee

Somewhere in France
4/12/16

My dear Mother

I have joined the Battalion now, so in future my address will be Pvt. D B Fry 4992 A D Coy. 3rd Battalion. A.I.F. Abroad. Keep to this till I tell you of any other. The censorship is very strict indeed so you must not expect any news concerning things. I have met Cleve Edmonds & we are together now. Cleve has seen a lot of fighting and is so far all right, but lots of the boys need a good rest Capt Tyson is O.C. Coy. I’m not likely to see stripes for some time, as it all goes by seniority in the Battalion here, & I’ve only just joined up. I’m the first of the 19th Reinfs over here

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& volunteered for a draught. I have not been able to strike Harold Reg or Tom, indeed have seen nobody. I did not think it possible to see so many Australians busily engaged all over the place at all kinds of work, without striking someone I knew. Im feeling very fit at present, but have a bad heel, through some rough marching. I think Im not far from the spot where old Alan met his death, but things alter as the push goes on, & I have found no one so far, who knows anything about it. However, I will not cease trying to find out. I had a letter from Noel Cuthbert t’other day. & he told me about poor old Nim. I wish I could express to Mrs Cuthbert

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my feelings of regret at the news. I have written, but that’s such a poor way of doing a thing like that. Nim was a chap I have the profoundest respect for, and was one of my best chums. Just before leaving Blighty I saw a letter of Marg Burnetts to Tommy, telling me about things at Denegully & about how sad Una was. I do hope you have all got a peace of mind now, & can review old times in only a happy retrospect.

We get the sun here about once a fortnight, but to day is just glorious. Theres always an ice & frost coating to the earth each night tho’, & the proverbial mud of this district is generally frozen.

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But a couple of good days like to-day, & Im sorry to say, it means a bad time ahead for us, for everything will thaw again.

Some more of the ex NCO’s of the 19th Reinfs, mostly those of us who have seen previous active service, will soon join up the Battailion. That will mean a few more pals about.

We are in a good possy at present, too good to last I’m afraid. Thinking one what it is best for you to send occasionally. I think, sox, soap, muffler (they get awfully chatty) undershirt No 6 Cork inner soles, toothbrush, Vice Regal tobacco, & dainties. This looks a lot, but of course, I only mean dispatch one of each occasionally. We’ll only get a percentage anyhow. Well mother dear, its late to send many happy returns. With love to all

Your loving son

Dene

[Page 130]

France
15th Dec.

My dearest Mother

Theres a little song which is a great favourite with the boys here, it goes
My home in Tennersee,
Just try & picture me,
Right on my mother’s knee,
She thinks the world of me.
All I can think of to night,
Are Is the fields of snowy white,
Banjos ringing, darkies singing,
All the world seems bright.
Red roses round the door,
Make me love mother more,
I’ll see my sweetheart Flo,
And friends I used to know,
They’ll be right there to greet me,
Just imagine how they’ll greet me,
When I get back, when I get back,
To my home in Tennersee!

Well, the first time I heard that song

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was at Etaples. It echoed from a cold, chilly hill. Around this tent was a fence of many strands of barbed wire, and a half frozen sentry, with fixed bayonet and a set expression, standing at each corner. As I passed, the singer, an active service prisoner walked out, and, taking the high note well – "right on my mother’s knee, she thinks the world of me," he turned a damp blanket hanging on a wire, and returned to his cold & cheerless tent. Well, you may wonder at me telling you of this incident. That is Australian. He will be court martialled for some-thing. But these are the men who break a mothers heart, who break their seargeants heart, but they break Fitzes. Really, I couldn’t help smiling tho’, in fact, it was a real bit of unconscious humour. However such pictures cannot be portrayed in words. Now for some news.
"Just try & picture me." I was on the top of our dugout chopping a big

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junk of wood with an ordinary pick, (axes – non sunt invente) when my dugout mate – an old schoolchum of repute, from Chatswood – to wit, Cleve Edmonds, shouldered our sac, the same being an ordinary sand bag which we use to deep our tucker in, and set off for headquarters, to draw our next days rations. I yelled out to him. "Don’t forget to ask for mail Cleve, & find out when we are to get paid". Well, I chopped that blankey wood till I was sore in the back, & then carried it below, & set a fire in the brazier – an old German one. Just at dusk he came back. I heard a yell above & he said, "Well you’ve got the biggest hyde I ever heard off; there are 8 letters for you & one feels as if it has four or five in, and no one else has any." Gee, & haven’t I just been reading them. It’s just what we live for – letters, and

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when one gets them, & the others don’t, the unfortunate ones all always feel a pang of real jealousy, or rather envy.

Three of us, on light duties with coughs & colds, have been told off on a light job of guarding timber taken from old German mine shafts & dugouts. We do about 2 ½ hours each per day, and then its over. The artillery camped near-by, in true Australian fashion, pinch this timber all day for dugouts & fires, and believe me, we are often looking the other way. The mind round this old scene of a gigantic struggle, (Fricourt & Becordel), is something to be for ever remembered. It is knee deep everywhere, not even a track to walk on, & there is no chance of escaping it at all. It’s just plug thro’ it. Consequently we are wet always. I sympathise with these artillery men who have their mules & horses to look after as well, and they certainly would not be alive today, were it not for a cheery wood fire & dry dugouts, when the day

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is oer. The ground here is honeycombed with shell & mine craters, dugouts & trenches. One mine crater is just about a good stone throw across, and about fourty feet deep. A large Fritz grave behind it shows how successful it was. There is a slightly smaller one each side of it, & then Fritz got one under some 10th W. Yorks & some Scotties, and a grave in our old lines tells its tale. The earth is a mass of fragmentary iron & unburst missiles of all kinds. Shells shell cases, grenades, bombs, old bits of rifles & ammunition abound, & last & certainly most annoying to us, endless field of chopped up barbed wire entanglement. His dugouts show conclusively both that he never for one moment expected to be pushed out of this line, & equally clearly demonstrated that he had no intention of advancing either. Then the

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British took over the Somme from the French. The dugouts are all about 30 feet from the ground, all stoutly timbered, a neat wooden staircase with a rail leading down, and nearly all lit by electric light. Of course much of this was taken away or destroyed. It is certain that they simply evacuated the line during the bombardment. Well, now the three of us live in just such a place, & read our letters, & chat, & smoke, & cook steak. Our luck is right in, for we get our rations, & can do as we like with them. No watery tasteless stew, no fear, good wholesome fried fillet. Jove, if you could only see us. It’s one of the pities that you cant see us when we get a good possy, they are only too few. Down here in "de bowels of de earf", there is no sounds of guns, just a kind of dull thud, & if a heavy cannonade is going on, just a few crumply pieces of earth through the cracks in the ceiling. Otherwise blissful quietude.

[Page 136]

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Near-by, about a mile away, are camped the 5th Field Ambulance. This is a NSW unit, and I have many old pals in it. They run a free buffet for men returning from the line, in which you can obtain hot cocoa, coffee, biscuits and corned-beef sandwiches. This is a great idea. The two Rice boys are here, & I sometimes visit them. It always means a supplement to our poor rations, for they sympathise with the infantry, and are very good to us. Last night I got a tin of cocoa-chocolate, sufficient to make several drinks for the 3 of us, and a pound tin of butter, Tres bon. Marshal Rice also got me a complete set of underclothes which were a godsend, as we are in an unspeakable state of "chattiness". No bon. You see some awful sights here. The ambulances come all day

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with wounded, but that is not all. Inside the waiting tent are seats arranged round cheerful fires, and on these sit bundles of living mud. These are the soldiers from the trenches, not our Pit Street soldiers. An AMC chap calls from behind a canvas, from whence various squeaks, & groans denotes a doctor in attendance, & one by one they make their way in, as best they can. "Smith next," and some bundle-of huddled up humanity, more mud than man, lays his shrapnel helmet down in his possy, and rises to his feet, But, in the glow of a warm fire he has forgotten, and with a groan, sinks on his knees. Keeping his feet from the ground he commences to crall. But a bearer soon spots him & carries him in. "Trench feet on the right." An orderly whips a knife in the mud of his puttees & boots slits both to ribbons, & pulls them off.

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They are then thoroughly washed and oiled. If bad, the man goes to hospital. If he can he finds his way in the dark & slush, clad in new boots & clean sox, to some place to sleep the night. The dreadful throb & shooting pain of each step he must bear, and next day must join his unit as soon as possible. Trench feet are no a crime in the army. It will be a crime to be wounded soon. The indiscribable pain of even icy cold feet, has to be experienced to be understood, but the frost bitten feet known here as "Trench feet" is a nightmare of indiscribable agony. This is just a pleasant adjunct of casualty clearing work. Just across the road from the 5th F.A. dump & C.C.S, is the parish cemetery of Becordel village. A purely French R.C. graveyard, picturesque an homely. But beside it, three times the

[Page 139]

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size of it, is a brand new cemetery, of wonderful evenness, one whose earliest date goes back to June 1916, where lie buried the men of lands far remote, the ramifications extreme of Our Empire. Private so & so of the A.I.F. lies beside Lieut so & so, of Botha’s contingent. Separate, in one large grave are the Fritzes. "Hier ruhen Ludwig Weber, Hans Golz, Sergt Mulhausen etc, clas 3 R.R. 5 Komp." This place is Dartmore cemetery. Its small neighbour can boast of dates remote, but it, young in years scorns the or rather, young in months, claims an acreage of which puts to shame the ancient burial ground of peaceful Becordel village. Its perfectly dressed & aligned wooden crosses, its neatly patted coffin mounds, and its sombre aspect in a French a leafless French winter; presents an atmosphere so forbidding that we are almost denied a few moments in sentimental retrospect.

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I thought that perhaps Niven Cuthbert was buried here, & Tom Bochme & I one day searched every cross marked with an October & November date, but it cant be so. One very pretty grave is marked. "Here lie three unknown German soldiers, and the chest & arm of one marked 135 111 R.R. 2nd Komp. R.I.P." The grave is lined with shrapnel shells & has [indecipherable] on the top. We must credit some Tommies with a bit of decent sentiment here.

I have had no chance to get to Warloy. It is 8 miles away. There is a very large grave-yard there, & it is only time to find dear old Alan’s grave. I will spare no effort to locate it if the chance ever offers. It is very dreadful about Jack Curtis, Alan Gordon & Wally Hayes isn’t it. Ibis, redibis non, morieris in bello.

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Well, mother dear, today, Dec. 18th, we have returned to the very overcrowded huts, called back to get ready to "go in" on the 20th. That means Christmas day in the front line. You have all wished me good luck for xmas, perhaps you did not think of me spending it there. Bapaume is in front of us, but I don’t think we are after it – yet. We will be busy and I may not get a chance to write to Melbourne, & besides, this letter is not going to be censored, so I would like a copy sent there. I recd. to night, letters from Hazel, Wilga & Bill & enjoyed them awfully. Everybody has been writing very newsy letters, & I should think that I have been getting them all, although delayed. I have not yet got one solitary

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13
parcel. You & Mrs Magnus have both stated you have sent them. Perhaps they went down on the "Arabic". My poor Xmas pudding, its certain it wont float here.

I don’t feel queer or anything like that about the line, but you needn’t expect any V.C’s, and, mother dear, I’m going to be careful. Cleve is an old hand, & he will be with me. Its very, very cold. Australia is not like this. Standing in the mud under fire will be an ordeal we will all suffer from, & will call for all our strength & will. But the Australians have been doing it up till now, & we are going to do it too. The rum issue is a god send & an absolute necessity. The rest is chance.

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I have enjoyed the letters more than you can know. Don’t be afraid of all telling me the same news. Dorothy’s was always saying "of this & that", & yet she was the only one who told me what was in the nurse’s letter about Alan’s death. Father forgot to enclose it. You should let me know her unit & name. Always do this. We get to some queer places, & I may yet be able to find her.

Now, dear everybody, for a while, au revoir. I will write every chance I get. Don’t worry mother, I’m the lucky one, with me it is Ibis, sed redibis! Your loving son

Dene

[Page 144]

France
16-1-17

My Dear Mother,

Here we are out of the line. There has been a long time in which I have not written, but we are not allowed to when we are "in". Well, we spent Xmas & N.Y. "in", and it was not all beer & skittles. However, we are now out and beyond a few things like chill blanes

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2
I’m O.K., & feeling fit. I have been with Cleve all the time and he is now a real experienced soldier, and a great help. We had an Xmas Eve gift of a heavy bombardment, which fell all around us. Just how one did not drop in our nest I don’t know, but beyond a whack on the shoulder from about a pound of dirt, nothing lobbed on me. My gracious its cold. The ground is now white with snow & ice, & we are all in our sheepskins & gloves. I don’t know what

[Page 146]

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how we will would get on without the sheepskins. I am wondering what has happened to all the parcels you say are coming to me. I have only so far had one parcel from Australia – a tin of lollies from Margery Anderson. Mrs Magnus says she has sent two, & you say the same. Sed sunt inventi. I’m, longing for some sox, good knitted ones, do send some. Both Jean & Mr & Mrs Anderson have both sent an Xmas fift, and I also got a parcel handed to me in the very trenches

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from Mr Lidgett. It contained the paper I’m using now, some ginger, lollies, biscuits & a pair of sox. Wasn’t he a sport? Everyone is getting their parcels, & I can’t make it out, we look forward very much to them.

Well, Mother dear, imagine my surprise when, arriving at a camp outside a village some miles behind the line, I found a signboard saying W- 2 Kilos! The other afternoon Cleve & I went across to look for dear old Alan’s grave, and, after a long

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search, found it. He is buried in a large new addition to the nice little village cemetery, where lie many English & colonial soldiers. The grave contains 7 men, each marked with a plain, neat, little wooden cross, to which is tacked a stamped tin label, giving number, name, rank, regiment and date. You could hardly call it permanent, but it will last some time, and I swear that, if I get the slightest chance, I will leave it permanently marked – but this will be

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very difficult. The whole thing is simplicity itself, and it is hard to realise that the little tin label is all that makes that narrow little ground plot so dear to us all. I felt as if I would give my own life just to reach down and give him a handshake, and it was quite dark before I could drag myself away. I feel as if I have achieved something in finding the old chap out, he’s been lonely indeed till now, his little cross just occasionally

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scanned by a soldier looking for a dear pal, or perhaps someone in the same quest as myself. I cant help thinking how you all must long for just such an hour as I had, to do the dear lad of so many happy memories, a small homage in reward of his sacrifice. But I must stop, I only upset myself this way.

I will give you a description of how to find the grave. Enter the village

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cemetery by the main gate, and pass through into the new cemetery beyond, by the gate in the far left-corner, to the left of which is a row of tall trees. The plot in which he lies, is about the middle of the 3rd row of graves. He lies in a grave of 7, and is 2nd from the right. The grave of Staff Capt. Trahearne, with a white rail fence round it, in the first row of graves, is nearly opposite.

[Page 152]

Well mother dear, the mail closes immediately and I must wrap this up and post it at once. I’m always thinking of you all, and have been getting some lovely letters from you all – even Bill. Fathers papers come regularly & I thing all the letters too. Do write regularly to Pvt. Fry, 4992 a D Coy. 3rd Btn. A.I.F. Abroad.

Much love
Your loving son.
Dene

[Page 153]

Alan’s grave. Enter from the Village (French) Cemetery turn to left about 20 yards, 1st turn to right, and his grave lies in the 3rd Row on the left of the path.

[drawing showing the layout of the cemetery and the position of Alan Fry’s grave.]

This you should keep I may lose my copy.

[Page 154]

Preface

Writing this on my knee so please excuse writing.

France
8th Feb 1917

My dear Father

Your and mothers acknowledging my first from England to hand yesterday. It’s a great pity that letters take so long to get from one place to another, and I thought that writing my feelings home as I did, would only serve to open up an old sore. However its done now.

I have been getting home letters very regularly and can safely say I’m missing none. I do hope you will all write regularly, especially Wilga & Bill. It’s lovely to get letters right up in the line. When we are all in our dugouts in the front line, the word of "a mail in" passes like wild fire, and excitement is high, and disappointment keen. Only about 4 days ago I got three parcels, from Mother Dorothy & Hazel. I had long given up hope of ever getting these, but there you are, they are only 4 months late. I enjoyed these very much I can tell you. My scarf was exceedingly "chatty", and my neck bitten to bits, so the woollens were most acceptable.

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The sox too, are always welcome. But the prunes & lollies! What a feed we had. And rasins! Cleve & I nearly made ourselves sick. Tell Dorothy her calendar was beautiful but I think, if all were up to the standards of the one she sent me, they are too good to send to this outlandish place. But mine will be put in my pocket book as a memento.

I’m awfully glad to know Mother & the girls went to Newport. It must have done them all good, even if they could not keep their minds altogether from some things. Is Dorothy going to Dubbo? I think that too, a splendid idea. Change is everything. You yourself should take a trip somewhere. You must not think just because the government decides to dispense with a man’s th l’homme moyen, services at a certain age, that you must per force settle in an armchair and let a white beard grow. I’d like to see you take mother for a trip, outside Australia somewhere, you would both have so very much to interest you, it would do you

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inestimable good. But, perhaps, that is a matter which could not be done till I return.

Some weeks ago I had a note from Olly. He was attached to 6th Field Ambulance, but was then recovering from Chicken Pox in Rouen convalescent hospital. What a family! He was very cheery, but was dying for news from home, he had had none for 3 ½ months. Getting wind of the whereabouts of the 6th F Amb., I visited it one day, after walking some miles, but found he had not returned from Rouen yet. During the next few days we went into the line. However, I’ll keep a lookout for his unit now I know it. I left some of my home letters in the Orderly room for him, they will give him some fairly recent news. I have not seen Tom Bochme for 2 months now, nor have I seen Cairns or Lawrence or Eric in France. We have been near the First Field Ambulance, in fact, their bearers are in the line with us, but Eric is now in the nursing section which stays back in some base town, miles behind the line. Harold too, is usually "in" when we are "out", & vice versa

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Tell Hazel I liked the poetry on her card, the one in her parcel, very much. Quite unusually sensible for these days. I must say tho’, I did hope there was some fudgein the girls’ parcels while I was undoing them!

The 13th Bat. is rarely "out" while we are. I will not forget to go and see Patten tho’ when I meet them. I will wrote to him soon. It was a very nice letter of his. A 13th Sgt. Major whom I met at Etaples told me Alan had to get special permission to go "in" with the boys, he was a/ Orderly Room Cpl. He said he must have a bit of Fritz, he missed Johnny Burke. Poor chap. I think I can manage a photo of his grave, but dont want to raise your hopes. General Anderson wrote and told me he was forwarding Alan’s private belonging’s home. So my worrying him bore fruit at last. I wrote him twice about them. I’m awfully glad these are going back.

The letter of Harrison’s was from the Mesopotamia front, dated Sep, in reply to a letter of mine dated May. He is over there

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in a civilian capacity, but hopes to get honorary civ military rank. He says there has been no fighting for about 3 months, but a few bombardments showed that Johnny Burke was on the look out. He may return to London, where he would have arrived ere now, or he may stay the winter there. His work was of course on the insect plagues. I wish he’d come here and do away with our French "Chats". They are the dizzy limit.

The coal strike has caused a lot of comment here. Even the miners and of course the hundreds of working men belonging to unions who are amongst us, are quite unanimous in their condemnation. They are disappointed in the Referendum too, altho’ at the time, they almost to a man voted no! in the trenches. But, we all realise now, that we must finish this dreadful business, and those extra men were necessary. But those IWW scoundrels should have been torn limb from limb. The latest new concerning America & Holland declaring War is startling, but its only rumour in this part yet. The boys are talking about it all day tho’, & they see the significance

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Has that chicken been smiling" at Bill any more? Earl£ with the cats must have been a scream. I like Bills picture of the train, it was something like a "tank". Ive seen half a doz of these things, disabled ones lying about these battle scarred fields. They are frightful looking things all right. It was awfully good of Dulcie to come down & take charge as she did. She was a real sport.

Well, I’d like to be able to tell you where we are, and describe some of the things around us. We are not far from a place called [apparently censored] but I cant tell you more. [apparently censored] everything. All water is frozen as is the ground & the dreadful mud, so altho’ conditions are better in one way, it is dreadfully cold. Our feet are very painful. To me this kind of thing is quite new. Things are quite quiet but of course casualties are occurring always from intermittent shell fire. The sun brings forth hundreds of aeroplanes & we have seen some royal fights. But all news muts remain till I return. My second time "in" still leaves me sound on my feet, and you can tell, I look after myself.

Well Father, give my love to all. Cheer up & we well all hope for a speedy finish of this war. Don’t forget to write. Papers, parcels & letters are now turning up all right. In excellent health.

Your loving son
Dene

[Page 160]

[pro forma]
Not transcribed

[Page 161]

[postcard]

Mrs Arthur Fry
Northcote Rd
Lindfield N.S.W.
Australia

[Page 162]

On Active Service
From Dene Fry
Dated France 9 Feb 1917

Charles Hedley Esq
The Australian Museum
Sydney.
N SW.
Australia

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[envelope rear – blank]

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France
9/11/17

Dear Mr Hadley

I should have written long ago. But you would not believe how difficult it is to get the opportunity for writing over here. The winter is severe on us, and we do not live in "houses". Why, I’ve forgotten what civilisation is: The snow has been on the ground since New Year now. Before that, the mud was literally feet deep. These rolling hill, which, no doubt, are green pastures and pretty woods in summer months, are now snowy white carpets, with pits thickly dotting them, in which is water with a foot of ice on it. I’ll bet if you could see us with a pick in hand in one of these shell holes, muffled up to the eyes, & with woolly sheep skins on, digging

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through the thick coating of ice for water, you would think we were in the polar regions. We have learnt of two new foes over here, and they are as bad or worse than the hun, - cold and mud. I’m sorry that owing to the censorship I’m unable to give you any details which may be of interest. I’ll have to keep all this till I return. But I’m always turning my thoughts back to happy times, and always wondering whether someone has "knocked out" Austrochapernina, and how my Aphantophryne paper is getting on in the Linnean’s hands. I’m coming right back to this work, never fear; absence makes the heart grow fonder. I do hope you are all well. Tell Briggs to write & tell me of the Q’land trip. Now, keep him up to that. Give my very best regards to good of Mr. Mac & the Doctor, & with best wishes to self & Mrs Hedley.

Yours very sincerely
Dene B, Fry

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France
11th Mar. 1917

My Dear Mother

It is now a long time since I’ve written, for we have been very busy, and in the line several times in quick succession. When we go "in" our packs are taken, and last time I quite forgot to take writing material out of it. But we really get surprisingly few opportunities for writing.

I have had a lovely lot of news from you all. I have your of Xmas Day, Fathers of Jan 10th (?) & Dorothy’s & Hazel’s of early Jan. Its just lovely to get all the news this way. Dear old Bill must be very excited about another addition to the household. I wish I could

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write to Hazel as I would like to, but there is always the ugly figure of a harsh censor in front of one. Jove, just to look back a few years to a bit of a kid on the Tennis Court, and now to think of her as a mother with a sweet kid to look after. I do hope everything goes well. Goodness what excitement when we come home. Only just about three days ago I heard that the 6th F. Amb. Was camped near us, and went over & met Olly. He had heard no news at all & was very anxious as you can imagine, but looked very well, & was very interested in everything around him. I dined in his "surgery". The following night I found him most excited. Ran had sent a cable, "a boy both doing well, six weeks old."

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Hence the excitement. It was a great relief to him. Of course being a boy it wont be as handsome as if it had been a girl, & Bill will still remain the aristocratic one of the tribe! Of course, too, you will call it Alan wont you Hazel? Like my hide isn’t it. I go to dine with Olly again to night. He provided me with the first feed of vegetables & roast meat I have had for 4 months – in fact since I came to France. I did it justice I can tell you, & I will do the same again to night. He is very interested too in two large naval guns which, when they fire, knock all the bottles off his shelves with the concussion and which as is said amongst the boys, "draw the crabs", to the extent of a few 9.2’s from

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Fritz every night. We had a boska yarn. I met Eric Greenwell a few weeks ago too. But I have not seen Lawrence or Cairns yet. The weather is at last just a little warmer, & the snow less frequent, but mother, we have had a very very hard time this winter. I’m satisfied with the constitution I’m blessed with, it’s seen me through alright. I have a cold, I’ve had it for months, but am otherwise absolutely O.K. I’m glad Dorothy liked the "Rodin". I sent Marion one of Brangwin’s famous drawings of Belgium, I mean a book. I think Una is just too good for words. Kindly remember me to her. You were quite right in "putting in" for me in Dorothy Burnett’s wedding present. Father is to take the allotment till he is

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paid off in full. Of course, the insurance will run away with some too. I manage in France on 40 Francs per fortnight quite easily, in fact, have often only drawn 20. The whole lot is spent on just writing paper, refils for torches & eatables. We never get a chance to buy anything else. Sometimes if we get back to villages which are inhabitated inhabited, we buy French bread. It’s good rye bread.

Now Mother dear, I must close I have half an hour to write to Marion. This letter is not a nice one. The rumour was that the Australian mail closed in 4 days time, but a few minutes ago, someone burst in & said it closed at 4 to day. So I sat down hurriedly & wrote this. Give my best love to all. I do hope everyone including my nephew is O.K. Your loving son
Dene

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M. Kishan Lt

France
27th Mar. 1917

My Dear Mother

Well, much has been happening here, but, best of all, we are out for a spell. I can tell you, now that we can look back on the real winter, we have been through some hardships. It’s still very cold, for March winds here are straight from the North Sea, and rain has taken the place of snow. The last fall, about a week ago, only lay on the ground for a few hours. Of course it is not coldest when the snow is falling, but a while after it get simply awful. Colds are still prevalent, but you would be surprised how

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hardened we become to wet clothes and other uncongenial conditions. I’m sure all this mollycoddling which we go thro’ in civilian life is the cause of half the pneumonia & pleuricy, for here we have been wet for weeks, slept, or rather dozed on the floor of a muddy trench, sat on wet fire steps, dug in in the snow & sleet, not washed for weeks, not changed for weeks, eaten bread & jam, bully beef & stew, and after all, shells included, come out fairly right. There is no doubt tho’, that the Army tot of rum is the saving of most. It has carried me out more than once. I would like to give you accounts of our doings here, but of course if I were to get down to details, the censor would only use his

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pencil freely. Just the last month tho’ we have been very much on the qui vive I can tell you. For a while Fritz was tame, & both sides exposed themselves rashly, but nothing happened. But we guessed the wily dog was up to some of his tricks, & so when one morning, there were no huns to be seen in the trenches which the eve before held many, we knew something of importance had occurred. The advance then began, & for a while Fritz gave no trouble, being concerned only in his retreat. The rest you have heard in the papers.

We are, as I have said, out for a rest. I think our Div. can safely say we have carried it. We are in billets & very nice it is to have walls & roof around us again.

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If you want a really good picture of typical billets, see Bairnsfather. His are dinkum. But, of course, he cannot show anything but the dead rats, and the insect population could only be indicated by a microscopical enlargement of a portion of the floor or straw bed. However, as we each have these issued per man with the blanket, well, we simply regard them as the ‘more the merrier’. I wrote to Mr Boehme in London for silk underclothes. This seems awfully extravagant for a worby boeyang doesn’t it. But the boys are all getting them. If you get pink ones the chats show up like a fat hun on the sky line & then, well, the slaughter is just awful. Being fine mesh too, they have great difficulty in getting thro’ to the

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woollens to breed. But enough of these faithful friends.

I have had two feed of steak £ eggs! I went to a "Butcherie" (note French) £ asked for ‘steak sil vous plait", £ the dame said "steak finish". I went to go, but a youth who was in the know asked for "fillet please", £ got a lovely junk. So I sent a good looking pal up £ he again asked for fillet please. And then we dined. Oh! It was simply, great. The prices tho’ are awful. They have special prices for Australians.

I spent an evening with Les Wynne £ Bob Newton tother eve. Bob is about 7 feet high Les looked very well £ is a Sgt now. Pattern has left the Battalion. I also met LeO Howard, so, you see I’ve been raking up old pals. It’s good I can tell you.

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The news about Hazel is fine. Olly heard first from Ran. What on earth becomes of the poor lads mail I don’t know, he has no luck at all. He was awfully worried, but, I dined with him on the eve he got the telegram, £ he was up in the skies. He’s awfully amused at the sweet infant being ginger. I’ll bet he calls him "ginger mick". I think it was lovely of Hazel to dub him Alan, I guessed the dear kid would. My mail is arriving regularly, do write often, I want to hear everything. I met Noel Cuthbert too. He looks very well, we had an evening together too, and I met a pal of his Lieut Neuth, whose sister lives with the Waughs. Isn’t it a small world?

Well, mother dear, as usual, I’m writing against time. They keep us very busy, £ I’ve been looking up pals instead of writing since we have been out. Give my best love to all

Your loving son Dene
(D.B. Fry)

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France
l : Vl :17.

[should be lV]

My Dear Father

Well, we are preparing to go into the line again, after quite a decent rest. But big things have been doing while we have been out, and we have a much longer march "in" now than before. I wish I could tell you of our doings, but we are of course, strictly forbidden. But I have been right in the thick of it, £ have been helping to dig £ hold our new front line. We had a hard time when the hun first fell back. We were taking no risk of a trap, £ followed warily. I will never forget one night, with the hun just a few hundred yards in front of us, behind a veritable wall of barbed coire, we went forward in little parties £ formed a series of strong posts, digging like mad to get a bit of cover. We dug a few yards of trench about

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6 feet deep, & got our machine gun placed. The following day we spent keeping our heads well down, one man observing, & widening the trench, as much as we could, without making a commotion. Next night it snowed like mad; a tearing wind turned it into an icy blizzard, but we had to take our turn on watch and dig like mad just the same. Some of us were sent out a bit to put up some barbed wire. I can tell you it was just about as much as we could stand by 4 in the morning. I could hardly feel any part of my body, & digging was a farce. Then the rum issue came, & made us all as warm as if by a fire, & put new life into us. But some just threw themselves on the floor of the shallow trench, & took no notice of the snow, just fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion. When the officer loomed out of the mist & snow, & tried to wake

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One of the chaps near me, but he was absolutely done, and, altho’ I banged him with a shovel, he only grunted. So when the officer came up he saw that we were at the end of our tether, & ordered us back to the post. Here, taking our turn at observation still, we sat on the floor of the trench amid the snow, & awaited dawn. It was just about as much as we could stand, & my word we were lucky that the hun didn’t come over that night. But now this trench is miles behind our front line! Well, I’m feeling more fit to go "in" this time than ever before, & you bet I’ll be alright & look after myself. I have been in the middle of quite a number of Fitz’s heaviest barrages, & have been amongst the lucky, so I suppose I’ll do it again. Of course narrow squeaks put the wind up a bit, but one gets horribly used to the ping of lead on the helmet or showers of mud & dirt coming down.

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Well, you will by the time you have got this, have received from Mr. Boehme in London, notification of the fact that I have borrowed £ 7 from him. The reason for this is that my pay book being full, was taken from me & sent to England to be audited before a new one could be issued, &, as the rotten law is, no soldier can be paid without his book. Consequently being out of the line, & the change of buying some decent food I have been borrowing. But I hope the allotment will cover things alright. I don’t know how much the insurance & other things amount to, but by the end of a years allotment I think things should be square, if not before. Of course I am living on 2/- per diem now, in fact we are only paid 40 francs (£1/8/8) per fortnight, which doesn’t go far towards some decent meals in the expensive land.

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I wonder father, how you like being at home. I suppose you are at the garden & stone walls again. Don’t forget to pull any grass out of the court. It’s not worth doing anything else, but the grass will get a hold. I’m hoping for some more letters soon, our mail has been held up for some reason. The last ones were dated about Jan 20th. But they are all arriving safely enough. I wonder how the wee nephew is. And dear Billy. Do get him to write to me again & draw a picture of Alan Oliver. I don’t know when I will see Olly again, it was great luck in being near him for a while. I have had several good evenings with Noel.

I do hope the family has settled down again, & mother is not working too hard. She must go steady now.

Give my love to them all. & tell them I’m always thinking of the old home.

Your loving son

Dene

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I am writing this in a small possy dug in the bank of a sunken road. I suppose you will have heard by the time this reaches you that Dene Fry has been killed. He was shot through the head on Easter Monday morning. He was killed where he fell with two others. They were probably caught by a machine gun. Did I tell you that we saw Alan’s grave at Warloy village cemetery about two months ago?

We were in the line again for Easter only came out the night before last C. & D Companies had a "hop over" about four o’clock on Easter Sunday morning. Seven men including Dene & myself [indecipherable] a [indecipherable] fire minutes ahead of D Co.s & advanced until we came in contact with the Huns. Fritz let us get within fifty yds before he opened up on us with rifle & machine gun fire. We had [indecipherable] at once & do the snake act back to company & report. It is a miracle that we were not potted then as we were advancing over clear open country

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as soon as we reported in, the Coy rushed the position, it was then that Dene Fry was killed.

Fritz cleared out before we reached him. We eventually captured a nice little haul of prisoners in addition to machine guns. One party of six of our boys [indecipherable] captured about twenty Huns including three iron cross men – great [indecipherable] throwing their hands up when outnumbering us more than three to one. 14 Platoon captured about a Hun a man. We made two further advances since the charge but did not meet with any opposition. Fritz attached our [indecipherable] Coys a few nights ago but got knocked back leaving about 200 dead behind him.

Extract from L/Corp. Cleve Edmunds
Letter to his mother
Dated 16 April 1917.

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[Returned Soldiers’ Association certificate, not transcribed]

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[not transcribed]

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[Concert program, not transcribed]

[Pages 187-200 ship’s newsletter, not transcribed]

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[T.S.S. Wiltshire brochure]
D.B. Fry, Sgt. 4992
19th Reinfs. 3rd Batallion
A.I.F.
Bay of Biscay. 10th Oct. 1916.

[Pages 202-204 menu - not transcribed]

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[Post card - not transcribed]

[Transcriber’s notes:
p 108 and p 113 Becordel – actually Becodel

[Transcribed by Donna Gallacher for the State Library of New South Wales]