Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales

Jock Ellis letters, 1915-1917
MLMSS 4997 / Box 64b / Item 3

[Page 1]
Burrabogie,
Hay, N.S.W.

12th June 1917

My dear John & Babs

Just a line to tell you I am strong in mind again & regret that I could not see anybody on the day you wanted to come down, it was weakness not unkindness on my part. All the time he was at the war there were many times at night when thinking of him I could hardly keep the throat lump down & at last the dreaded day came, it was a nightmare to me to write to him even. I would not go unburdening myself to you two only you’ve been good friends to Jock, Kathrine & me & I’ll come & see you as soon as I can & laugh & talk but never mention him to me till I tell you are to & I am safe to do so.

As I say I am all right now but Saturday & Sunday were bad for me & all the Ellis family. I have no right to monopolise all grief to myself, my poor old delicate Father has lost a son he was only my brother. I’ll guarantee my father will stand up to it & lead by his example the Ellis family & I am sure if Jock only knew it it would meet with his satisfaction.

You might think me nasty in asking you not to mention Jock to me for a while. I tell you what it is. When I go to Hay

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on Saturday went on sheep bussiness lots of people will do so out of decency & kindness but that does not affect one like you people would or relatives, as a peculiar instance my Mother & Jocks & Billies has been dead over 29 years and Father has in my hearing only mentioned her on two occasions.

I have to go on to you for my peace of mind. I am now on a sheep selling programme & it will help me a lot. Rich or poor alike are affected by bad wounds like this but I look at it that I cannot extend all of mine to Jock but must extend some of mine to the many poor people who have lost their relatives & been left in indigent circumstances, it is only when one is hurt like I have been than one is able to realize this. The Huns will be defeated and then complete humiliation will follow, the same things that eventually happen to all bullies will take place in their case, this though a thousand times off satisfying in full will at least be some small recompense for the heart burning & suffering they have caused throughout all the British & allied countries.

This letter has bucked me up, I am sorry to write so much but had to. Best love from Katherine & self,

From yours sincerely
Thos. C. Ellis

[Page 3]
25 Half Moon St.
London

14 November 1915

My dear Katherine

Many happy more Xmas’s and New Years to you all at Burrabogie. I just heard you had some good rains during October and that all is well, which is good.

How is little Tom??? Answer me at once, have his legs got any fatter or not.

There is very little doing on this side of the world except war: everyone is fighting, and indeed I feel quite out of it in plain clothes: there is a keen demand for decent men for officers and I am much exercised as to whether I should not chuck up the rotten medical profession: in order to brush up my work, I am doing one of the jobs at the Hospital: what a filthy business it is and what drudgery & no chance of ever getting a smack at the German hogs.

There are hundreds of Colonials in London and one meets them everywhere, both women and men: I shall get very stout if not careful eating such huge dinners and smoking fat cigars.

Address any letters you feel disposed to write me to C/o Dalgety, 45 Bishopsgate St., London, E.C.

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as I do not propose to stay in these rooms much longer as I shall be definitely doing something in another week or so: however I made up my mind not to decide until I had been here two weeks, but one week and one day in London is just about enough for me after 5 weeks loafing on the steamer.

We had an uneventful voyage home, and no excitement of any sort: there were not many passengers and not very interesting at that: we had rather a good men’s four, who stuck together all the time and made our own fun: also there were two nice women on board, Mrs. Fred Fairburn & Mrs. Ernest Bruce, both of Melbourne.

London seems cold and foggy and sore throaty, there are a few holes in various parts where Zeppelins have dropped bombs upon the buildings, not much is ever said about these Zep raids so people don’t relish the thought of being blown out of bed when so far away from the Actual Fighting line: long before you get this letter the rotten Dago Greeks will have come in against us: perfidious & treacherous dogs.

Remember me to Lloyd Brent: tell Tom not to forget my £12/12/0 to the Melbourne Club due Jan. 18th. Best love & health,

Jock Ellis

[Page 5]
Sunday 28 Nov. 15

The Royal Automobile Club,
Pall Mall,
London, S.W.

Dear Mrs. Robertson

I just got a letter from you and have been thinking about you all at Toganmain: so although I said I was going to be a bad correspondant, I feel I must sit down and tell you what I’m doing, even besides your letter was a very nice one and it was sweet of you to write it.

Do you know I miss you all very much, its when you leave your friends that you find how much you like them: so here goes to tell you all the news.

First of all the Osterley arrived with out any mishap. We mounted a 4.7 gun at Port

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Said which seems to keep off submarines, for we didn’t see any even though there were two or three very active in the Mediterranean as we came through: they just swing the 4.7 gun on board (aft) with a crane, and the mountings for it are permanently on the ship: a gun team of five men come on board as well: all the mail boats now do this.

I have been pretty busy here deciding what to do and getting a job: they were taking Australians pretty freely for the Artillery provided they were decent fellows – but of course I was going into the Medical work, where men were also wanted: however, much to my astonishment, my work was very rusty indeed. I had a try at it at the Hospital, so I consulted

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several people and eventually decided it would not be a fair thing for me to go as a medico – you see I’ve never practiced at all and am only a quack doctor. So I’m now in the Field Artillery and start training at St. John’s Wood as soon as my gear and kit is ready: it will be very interesting work, and with any luck at all I may get a chance against the Germans after all.

London is kept very dark and gloomy at nights – very few lights, it is almost dangerous the way the motors dash about in semi gloom: there have been no “Zeps" here since I arrived, & I hope there won’t be any: apparently the cold winter is not the best time for flying in Zeppelins.

It was sad about poor Sami Milson: there are numbers of Australians here from Gallipoli and some of them knew him: all of them are unanimous in hoping they won’t be sent back there, no doubt they had a tough time of it.

I hope you got through that New Guinea trip safely, or whatever outlandish place you proposed taking a holiday in: I shall not be satisfied till I get a letter saying you are back again – you say nothing in your letter about the fellows in Gallipoli, so I hope no news of them is good: please write again when you have any spare time and, like Alison Walker, I’ll promise not to be angry even if it is a long letter. Remember me to John, little John & Frank Lavender: I got a cable from him about the Carrathool sale. With kind regards and all good luck. Ever yours sincerely

Jock C. Ellis

(Am being photographed so shall send one next mail.)

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Mrs John S. Robertson
Toganmain
Hay
New South Wales
Australia

[Page 9]
The Chestnut Troop R.H.A. [Royal Horse Artillery]
1st Ind. Cav. Div.
B.E.F.
France

Dear Mrs. Robertson

I’ve just had a big budget of mail from Australia which is very welcome – with news of many people, some good & some bad.

One good thing that Alison Walker has got a commission: talent like his could not long be hidden among a body of soldiers: Please send him good luck from me if you are writing to him at any time.

Tom said in one of his letters that Bailey might come back to Eli Elwah as he was not fit – and then I believe he went over to Tasmania.

Old James Ayre will be fed up doing a second course of officer training – nothing could be more deadly dull than it is – except perhaps sitting down here with nothing to do except get fat, & think of your next meal.

However the life is a very healthy one, our Major does not like us to have any whisky or wines which is a good thing too: so this battery is tea total so far as officers are concerned. Of course many of the men get drunk whenever they get a chance, just the same all over the world – while others, certainly a minority, remain tea totallers.

It would not have been healthy round Verdun during the last month – rifle & machine gun fire, aeroplanes, gas attacks, shrapnel, high explosive & poison gas shells, and mines from underground: the German attack there came rather as a

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surprise – the French Secret Service had found out it was to begin March 17th & the British were to make a show up this way at the same time.

However the old Hun hurried matters on three weeks earlier, and when they attacked, the French Artillery guns took 24 hours to change their front so as to fire on the German infantry, during which time the Germans secured the 4 mile advance of which they made so much boast.

Of course the terrific number of men they lost was a bad blunder on their part, as the French outwitted them after the first two days, and a 4 mile advance was nothing to justify such appalling loss of life.

I hope now that internal affairs in Germany are getting strained: there are constant stories of small famines in various things like bread or potatoes.

When the general Allied attack takes place this summer, the German lines must go somewhere, unless they turn & beat us, which is impossible.

Remember me to John & little John, best health & wishes to you all.

Yours sincerely
Jock C. Ellis

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Mrs. J.S. Robertson
Toganmain
Hay
New South Wales
Australia

J.C. Ellis

[Page 12]
5 May 1916

1st Indian Cav. Div.
B.E.F.
France

The Chestnut Troop, R.H.A.

Dear Mrs. Robertson

I just got a letter from you full of interest, a lot of things about everybody in it: dated March 12th at which time you had arrived back at Togamain, [Toganmain] after what seems to have been a strenuous summer holiday.

So Kirby eventually arrived in Cairo, he seems to have had a varied experience between then and leaving Gundaline.

Old Wilkie will be a hardened soldier by now, the fellows with him will like him. And I was glad to know Robertson (Duncan) had a commission.

I have been expecting a cable from Burrabogie when you get the first good rains: surely we can expect some May rains this year: it was pretty dry in Jan., Feb., & March according to the Australasians which I get weekly.

There is a good mail service to all troops in France, and also every convenience for getting cakes, cigarettes and any other comfort you wish for.

The only draw back is that we are constantly moving from place to place: for the last three weeks we have been doing solid manoeuvres with the cavalry, a good sight to see them in thousands. You see these horse artillery batteries

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are all attatched to the calvalry: the latter are never in the lines except occasionally dismounted.

The batteries move up now and again to practice shooting: I seem to be permanently attached to this one; it has not been in action since I joined it; more or less firing goes rumbling on every day, and when you are located close enough up to the lines you can ride over and visit any friend you know and watch them shooting: the opposing sides see but little of each other, but incessantly annoy each other with bombs, bombing parties at night, mines, and a few shells dropped wherever you think they will catch someone changing guard & so on.

Our turn will come when we break the German lines.

The procedure consists of, (1) wire cutting done by shrapnel fire from field batteries, (2) Infantry attack to take their trenches, (3) pushing as many troops through the gap as possible, headed by cavalry & horse artillery: this is the general idea of trench warfare attack.

A more monotonous lazy life than having a ‘dug in’ battery in action, I don’t know. Certainly as reserves, one has more comfort and more of interest to do.

Attacks now-a-days are ponderous and take months to prepare – so that the other side knows of it long before it comes off: however lets hope the Huns are fairly rolled up this year.

The country here is gorgeous now: two weeks hot weather has brought out all the leaves, & the grass has grown tremendously.

Goodbye – with best luck to John & Graham.

Ever yours sincerely
Jock C. Ellis

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Mrs J.S. Robertson
‘Toganmain’
Hay
New South Wales
Australia

J.C. Ellis

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19 June 1916

Dear Mrs. Robertson

I have just got a letter from you written 22 April and was anxious about your having written from Omrah Hospital. I do hope nothing was seriously the matter, and was cheered up a bit by your expecting to go back to ‘Tog’ the next week: little John must be growing into a big lad now, its wonderful how times get along, even here in poor old God forsaken France.

And thankyou for that woolly jacket you have sent me – its a pretty decent sort of affair and I may keep it for use after the war: also the scarf.

The summer here is a rum sort of climate – some days really warm – most days chilly & all nights cold: certainly

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the North of France never developed the characteristic Frenchman – impulsive & passionate.

But tell John it is almost miraculous the way grass, clover & crops grow here: at a most prodigious rate, and of course the land bears very heavy crops.

The farmers in some places proceed quietly within 1½ miles of the front lines – thats the closest I know of: the tendency is for the Military to keep them further back.

At Fleur Baix [Fleuxbaix] (Flanders) an old woman had her house with in 3000 yds; there were shrapnel holes in her roof but she calmly went on: one of her young calves was killed by a shell bursting prematurely from a battery gun behind her house. Curiously at Armentieres the electric light was supplied from Lille, the latter in German

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hands: yet the Germans did not find out, and manufactured power for Armentieres for many months: we hold Amentieres [Armentieres].

I saw Col. Fred Osborne the other day: there is a lot of Australian Artillery near us – heavies: one meets lots of acquaintances in odd corners. Last week I had leave which was, however, cut short & I was recalled: Bruster Hepburn was in London and many other Australian fellows: one hates coming back off leave to this, but hangs on in hopes of a moving battle some day.

The Russians are doing great work, and we hope soon to have an open go as well, long before you will have got this note: I am firmly convinced that peace will come by Xmas: how long it will [remainder of page missing]

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it will be then before I get get away from here goodness only knows but it will take months probably to disperse our armies.

What a rotten season this apparently continues to be in Australia: according to what I know, there should be little if any green feed at Hay yet & past middle of June.

I sent one of my photographs out for you: posted them all to Brent who was to deal them out. I own up to being flattered.

By the way I meant to say that none of the rustic French people who live near the lines carry helmets against gas: they must get settled alright if there is a gas attack, though against our soldiery now gas is a failure, though always to be very much feared.

Isolated poison shells occasionally

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[indecipherable]: a few fellows who get caught by thinking they are ordinary but such shells are not very successful & not often used: tear gas shells are often coming over, & are very irritating.

Now if I could only get another whisky & soda, I should go on writing this letter for ever, but you see I can’t worse luck (meaning worse luck because I cannot go on writing).

So goodbye, best of luck & wishes to Graham, John & Frank if you see him & to you.

Ever yours sincerely
Jock C. Ellis

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14 July 1916

The Chestnut Troop, R.H.A.

Dear Mrs. Robertson,

Marvellous, wonderful!! I’ve had two letters from you, and it was very good to get them also, simply full of news, they were and made me almost think I was back on the Murrumbidgee once more.

So I’m just dashing into a return letter to you, regardless of the fact I’ve got no news to tell, but I can start off by answering some questions you asked, and thus hope to get into a good letter writing vein.

(Apropos of above, in your letter dated Tog. May 27, you accuse one of not replying properly to what you write: but some replies are better not made, as they are over three months old from the writing of your letters to the getting of mine.)

Question (1) Do I get your letters? Yes, thank you.
(2) Am I a pup? Yes, you said so.
(3) How am I? (Do you mean, How am I a pup, or what health I enjoy.)
(4) Have I had rheumatism? Not too badly, thankyou.

The above four seem fairly straighforward and are the main things you have asked which don’t come under the category of the ’3 months old no good’ lot.

Whatever did you go and take on little Tommy Gibbons again for? I thought he had turned you down well enough before for the effect to

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be lasting: if there is any gratitude in his twisted little mind, he should be a good servant this time: Madam, I’m afraid in this case your kindness of heart has outweighed your judgment: I hope for the best.

So Dorothy Field has improved with age: I am glad you liked her: she is a good straight forward sort of girl: its rather rum that some of my relatives should have told her that I disliked her (this was some time back): it was just the reverse, except that she always kept me in fear of her by dashing up and making me wear some rotten buttonhole, or something of that sort: made me look so ridiculous: of course that fed me up, but it didn’t weigh much against all the good qualities I know her to have: and I hope I should not be so discourteous as to offend any girl like that: so help me godness, Mrs. John, a fellow never knows where he is in dealing with your sex: all he knows for certain is that he isn’t where he thinks he is.

The devil take – here’s another thing in your letter – “it’s a strange thing what friends I (me) have considering what a humbug I am etc."

Well: they all know me well enough & know I’m a humbug, but still are friends – and I depend on them, and would not be happy if I lost them.

And dash it, you know, you would make one so blooming good there would be nothing in ones character a friend could cotton onto & like one for: As for writing to Brent, I don’t go showering men with letters like I do you: but I never think of Burrabogie without I think of old Lloyd too: your jolly letters must be making me home sick, bother them.

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I wonder if John has got the riding breeches I had sent out to him: I never saw them but hope they fitted him respectably: fancy the rotten drought being on again this year, its enough to break ones heart: however we must hang on, for the good times coming, and life would be too easy without a few set backs.

We have been out of action now for 2½ weeks, ever since the beginning of our infantry offensive: we had been attatched to an infantry Division for 6 weeks previous to that in action, and helped in the first four days bombardment, further north in the line then the push. Then we were pulled out, and now we have rejoined our cavalry Division, and are waiting behind: yesterday we got news that a brigade of the Secunderabad Cavalry (2nd Ind. Division) had gone through: but they were used between the 2nd & 3rd German lines to take an advanced village, & hold it till the infantry got up – now they are back again: I wish it had been our luck: Selwyn Jackson of Wagga, is attached to their Ammunition Column.

We have horse shows to kill this time of waiting, and I have amused myself jumping horses in them: the Inniskilling Dragoons, who are in our Brigade, gave a good show two days ago – but

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nothing looks so good as the flash teams of Horse Batteries pulling their guns.

(A Cavalry Brigade is three regiments of about 650 per regiment – each brigade has one battery of horse gunners – 3 brigades make a division, but you can get all this out of training books.)

I am so sorry that Bluie’s pup was a failure, but then she is not supposed to be married at all: the reason she is so thin is because she eats far too much and all raw meat at that: she’s really a glutton, and ill mannered, enough to often put sheep’s heads in the garden: I hope you will get Lloyd to make her mend her ways.

So Miss Peggie Busby got engaged, you made no mention what the fellow was like, but I hope he’s a good sort so that I can congratulate her: things are coming on, and Jack Matthews too.

You are digging them up, but certainly Jack is too much of an old Batchelor, and its up to you to fix his future for him – ha! ha!

What fun Boommy (Canoon) must have been when he won that £300: and the £170 at the flower show was a great effort. Hay really is a wonderful district considering what bad times it has.

Thanks very much for the photographs – they were jolly good. I’ve got

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quite a swag of little photos from Australia in my service pocket book so occassionally I can take them out when I get real sick of this monotonous job here: one grows old, foolish, sentimental & homesick, & wants knocking on the head at times.

Fancy them showing my photograph in Hay, you shouldn’t have told me so, as its made my head swell up to much.

By Jove, there’s no doubt a Colonial lives a decent friendly happy life and a full (N.B. doesn’t refer to liquor) one compared to an Englishman.

So the married fellow who saw you in Hospital in Sydney gave you some fatherly advice – I note his wisdom in picking deep holes in your conscience for the advice to sink into – however the worst fault he could find would not be a bad one to my thinking.

Well goodbye & good luck to John, and all my friends: fancy Graham getting so big. I wonder if he’ll know me next time.

Ever yours sincerely
Jock C. Ellis

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29 July 1916

Dear Mrs. John

How are you all at Toganmain – if you are only as well as I feel, no one could wish for better. You see I thought for so long that this season in Riverina was another ‘dud’ (very technical term for a shell that doesn’t bust) that it was slowly weighing my mind down. All of a sudden, along comes a cable saying good rains June & July. Now the weight suddenly off my mind lets it rise up to great heights, which my body couldn’t keep up with – so I found it necessary to elevate the body also, the very special occasion warranting such: this was easily done by means of ‘Dewars White Label’ (ever heard of it), so here we are, under the ground, three in number, viz, a Rhodesian, a Patagonian, & me in the best of health and spirits in spite of our dismal surroundings. So there, Mrs. Robertson!!!

I got two more letters from you numbered 5 & 6, which means No. 4 has not yet arrived, but sometimes our mail follows us for weeks – for we move about a little. Now at the beginning of July we came out of action and went back to join the cavalry and after three different marches we finally arrived back here in humdrum line action after 25 miles one night. But it was not so disappointing as you’d expect (seeing we were hoping to dash through a gap in the Huns’ line) for we didn’t altogether expect them to retire except gradually, and I’m just sure their time will come this summer for there’s a terrible squeeze going on for Germany all along her lines.

Three nights ago I put a gun from my section up within 750 yds of the German lines and drove it there with horses too – it took several

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previous days to bridge the network of trenches to get there, fill in little ones and so on.

And as the country here is bare as the Riverina plain, I waited for a very dark night & rain ran a light wire all the way to guide us by in the dark, and had 40 infantry to help lower it down a bank into its gun pit. All went off well, though the flares, which the Germans use all night long, nearly showed us up. Both sides are very nervy now, and always firing with machine guns.

Yesterday 26 of our planes flew over the German lines through their anti-air guns: it was noticeable that they were in closer formation than they usually are, and the Germans were lucky enough to bring one down: this is the first time I’ve seen one shot down out of a travelling squadron; though unfortunately there are, & always must be, many casualties among patrol & reconnaissance planes: what started me writing of them is that we don’t often see as many as 26 flying together on a raid, though frequently one counts more than that number up.

Tell John I got the last letter of his written from Narrandera: the rain was good, and the way it fell must have helped things along. I’ll write to him again soon: by the time this letter arrives you will be nearly finished shearing, & wondering where you will go off for the summer provided the season remains good: which let us pray fervently it will.

John writes a glowing account of ‘Little John’ whom I’m sure is growing into a great boy who will grown up and do Toganmain great credit, although I hope and trust he will be human enough to stray occasionally from the straight & narrow track – just enough to make him worth liking: & I’m sure he will from knowing his parents (meaning of course he’ll be properly brought up.

Goodbye, best wishes & luck
Yours sincerely
Jock C. Ellis

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29 October 1916

Dear Mrs. John

I’ve just had a letter from you and another one from John – thankyou both for them and I enjoyed them tremendously.

Your letter begins with influenza and a poisoned finger – which I hope indeed has recovered long ere you get this: John said you were off down to Sydney for a fortnight and taking Graham with you: but I’m sorry to hear that in spite of 6 oclock closing, strong drink can still be procured after that hour: its funny the Clubs should be so strict about it though.

Do you know I’ve lost my note book in which I put a mark against every day on which I write you a letter?

I did this in self defence against your objectionable habit of marking the number of your letters on the back of the envelope: when one

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of them arrives (say numbered 17 though of course you have never written that many) in a woman’s hand writing, and lies on the among the other officers mail, they might almost imagine me becoming embroiled with some female or other: and me the most respectable batchelor that ever lived, and please don’t forget that Mrs. John.

(You might note that I’m getting distinctly uppish, once more? The reason is simple that our horses have got ‘pink eye’ or influenza, and we’ve been obliged to retreat from the big battle – I mean our Brigade of batteries – and are going into winter quarters for a rest.)

I’m afraid the fighting spirit has died out of me a lot and have still got a considerable desire to see the Murrumbidgee plains once more: so my motto now is to minimize risks.

Also now I’m endeavouring to get a week’s leave to go to England: but

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shall have to wait my turn – the fairy tale of leave every 3 months doesn’t work: about every 6 months is nearer the mark.

However, enough of the war for the time being – and I have had a devilish easy time out here compared with many others: the amount of training we now have to do with the cavalry would fairly astound you: of course we get very rusty for our ultimate use by doing Field Artillery work so long & frequently: so the next three months should see us safe and comfortable – and get through much of the winter: we had three terrific frosts and much rain which made it very cold sleeping out – my feet died for several days, but luckily the cold weather keeps them from going bad: I was never so pleasantly surprised as when three other batteries rolled up & relieved us for a very big show: funnily enough the bad weather has hung up this show which was to take place the next day, so the other fellows are getting chilled and well shelled as they wait: but of

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course they get plenty firing to keep them amused: poor beggars they will get it in the neck in a day or two: one does exactly as one’s told, but feels a sort of sneaking relief when the other fellow gets told to come and relieve you.

I got the photograph of Sing holding Tom III, also one of Graham who grows every time I see him.

I must make an effort in future to write you more amusing or more interesting letters: this one is the first for a fortnight, and a pretty poor effort at that.

Goodbye & cheer ho! best love to old John & Graham & to you. Keep well & fit, and don’t let the Australian workers union ruin us all: of course the taxes will do that, though: we shall all be paupers & have you thought out what you will do for a living: you must practice sewing, I think & cooking.

Goodbye again
Jock C. Ellis

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29 November 1916

Dear Mrs. John

To hell with the Pope – as they say in the classics.

Which reminds me, Egad (Egad is popular form of English oath with its fangs drawn) that I hope you’re not R.C.: I can’t really remember what denomination you are, but hope I haven’t made a faux pas (N.B. French). In fact I don’t ever remember consulting Church in your company, except of course when little Tom was small.

Do you remember how painful that show at B’bogie [Burrabogie] was and how well we did the heavy grandparents.

Well now my good lady, there’s nothing for me to report

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to you at Toganmain except that all’s well (touch wood).

Also that things are not half as bad as might be, and we are not so very uncomfortable considering.

For instance we get wood to burn now for nothing, which is unusual in France: it comes out of High Wood (if you’ve ever heard of it, but probably you have not done so).

The French country folk have got very mean, and only sell stuff to us at the present full values for everything so that the cost of living has gone up tremendously.

Now I got two very nice letters from you in one mail, hence I’m very uppish tonight and write by return.

Its becoming a

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habit with me, this letter writing; as you may have noticed.

Do any of my letters to you get censored: Some I have written to Father have had portions absolutely cut out of them, I understand.

The monotony of life here has become so stilled into me that you will notice me the dullest person on earth on my return: war here is described as ‘a period of discomfort punctuated with moments of extreme terror’ – which is true – though, as I’ve often said before, the discomfort is not so awfully bad, and only happens under abnormal circumstances – ordinary paper trench warfare is quite as comfortable as going to work

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at the office very morning.

How is old John? And also little John, give them both my very best love tonight, and tell little John to put in a good word for me occassionally in his prayers.

I believe Lloyd has gone off to the war, you remember, I wrote him some cabled him some time back saying he should go if he wished to.

Well goodbye & good luck to you all.

And please excuse this short & scrappy letter, but the letters are just to remind you that I often think of you all & the good old days – please Heaven they come again.

Jock Ellis

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[The beginning and end of this letter appear to be missing.]
photo which I suppose is like most other things, lost at Bose & put down as being lost through “Hostile shelling", not that a shell has ever been within 50 miles of the Bose. The Heros there take fine care not to get in range of Fritz’s guns.

You must have had a great time at Xmas with all the Kiddies. We amused ourselves by waiting until Fritz was at Dinner & then pretty well every gun on the Somme opened on him at top rate, so he most likely failed to enjoy his dinner & many will never have another.

It must be the strangest season on reccord from what you say, though 1890 & 94 it was something the same, awful floods. We had even

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Xmas Day

Dear Mrs. Robertson

Today is Xmas and I have been thinking about people in Australia, including you and John & little John Brindley.

We have got a few days off for Xmas, so I am writing from my head Quarters once more: it becomes very hard to write decent letters when training, as if one tries to keep up with the book work at night, your head starts to buzz round in time: however it is easier for me now that I am beginning to know a few facts to start on.

Stewart Bowman is at Lark Hill near Salisbury. I have not seen him but he is in London just at present staying with the Whites, of Merton (which I believe is near Musswellbrook [Muswellbrook]).

I would like to have seen him but have been settled a bit today & yesterday with a bad throat, which made turkey & plum pudding so near yet so far, as it wouldn’t go down.

I suppose you will leave Toganmain for the summer and make off somewhere during the hot weather: if I remember rightly you always stayed at home over Xmas in order to avoid travelling among the mass or common herd during the holiday trips.

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by the time you get this letter, I sincerely hope to be approaching the end of this training work, and hope to be able to get along satisfactorily with my exams: they must surely want nearly every available man at present.

It is rather funny that some of the very best men in the Field Artillery are the last to get to the front: the reason is that if they know their work well, they are given perhaps a Captaincy, and left in England to train some of the new batteries, for you can understand that the men, as well as the officers, are only chocolate soldiers at present: then by the time the battery is competant, the Captain will also have improved considerably himself: for of course the training is miles too short to make officers of anything like the regulars standard.

I hope all this shop talk has not bored you, but one gets obsessed with it – its thoroughly on my nerves, especially as it is nicer to do well than badly.

I hope Riverina is prosperous and smiling once more, and that we get a good run of years to par for the war: With kind regards & good luck to you & john.

Ever yours sincerely
Jock Ellis

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18 February 1917

St John’s Wood Barracks,
London, N.W.

Dear Mrs. John

I heap reproaches on myself that I haven’t written to you for a whole month: such, Madam, is the gratitude of man, for I used to like getting your letters, specially in action: and now all that is past, pro temp, and I have a soft job here for two months before I go back to France.

I must own I feel rather a rotter sitting here safe and sound when I’m fat & well and sound: but there you are – when I was offered this work, I jumped at it.

And now am fed up a bit with myself for taking it on:

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but by the time this letter arrives with you, I shall be back again in La Belle France.

I had a letter from John last week: full of news about affairs in general: the taxes look like being strenuous in New South Wales, and money cannot be as plentiful as usual.

Personally I am spending more than at any other period of my life, as I intend to get all I can out of this next six weeks.

But we work long hours, 8.30 till 6 p.m. every day except two per week, when we sleep here in Barracks and start at 6 a.m. instead of 8.30 a.m.

We have Sundays off, except Church Parades.

So really a fellow does far more work here than in France: we train young gunner officers, or rather cadets who are given commissions if

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they prove themselves worth it.

Katherine sent me a whole lot of socks lately – I also got a beautiful little pencil out of one very mutilated parcel, which some one had torn open, & all the address nearly gone.

I’d never have known you’d sent it to me but for one little tag still stuck on the corner: it was jolly good of you to have worried, but really the pencil has been of greatest service & just fits in my pocket book: and as for the little knife in the end, it has already amputated the ends of thousands of cigars: besides by producing a gold pencil like that, I’ve often so impressed other fellows that they lend me 5/-, or pay the Bill.

I do hope the old season goes on well, and that 1917 is very prosperous: goodness knows we want a little prosperity to make up for all the hard times lately: I should hate to find myself an absolute pauper on my return to Australia, so let’s hope Wragge’s prophecy of good years till 1920 comes true.

I’m afraid this letter is an extremely dull one, but I’ll set to and write another very shortly when I’m in good letter writing form. Goodbye, best love to big John & little John and to you: little John must be getting an immense fellow now: when I get back he will almost be old enough to come on the spree with me.

Remember me to Stella Wheeler if you see her & thank her very much for the Xmas card she sent me.

Yours sincerely
Jock C. Ellis

[Page 41]
11/4/17

Dear Mrs. John

I have just got two letters from you numbered 36 and 37: in one you had been most horribly busy during the preceeding week, and said you were sorry not to have written to me: I think it wonderfully nice of you to write at all, and of course felt very conscious stricken at the weeks I’ve missed in answering your letters: perhaps you meant it as a rebuke for me, if so, it was very subtle.

But then, knowing you, I should not expect you to worry about such round-a-bout methods – I’ve always found you wonderfully straigtforward.

Your letters were written from some little heathen towns down along the South Coast – how I should have enjoyed being there, and would have disagreed with you about any cruelty in catching fish, they are too cold blooded to feel anything: I am sorry Stella does not like your protegee Stewart Walker, perhaps

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she does, after all, one never knows a woman: does he like her? You seem to have put them together a good deal, don’t you?

I am glad to hear that you and Hilda are completely reconciled to each other again: and you say in your letter she considers you require influence for good, and that you are, to quote your words, ‘too gay & flighty’.

And in the other letter you say ‘I’m quite homesick without Graham and miss him so much’.

Add the fact I know you to be straigtforward – and the moral is obvious – at any rate good enough for me. I admit you do some rum things and fly off occassionally but everybody else I now does so as well, except they do things which aren’t so noticeable as yours, that’s only luck.

But if these peculiarities, or faults if you like, do not disturb the general fondness felt by one’s friends

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then, I think it shows them overlooked, or judged too small to matter vitally: And I’m sure you lose no friends that count, but go on making odd ones here & there.

But damn it, why do you wind one up in a solilique on the ethics of life like this – you always did have the knack of drawing me into some argument till you got me floundering so I shall talk of something else.

Am glad to hear Tom is working great guns, once you start into interesting & responsible work, it is easy enough to keep going. So little Tom had gastritis at Manley, [Manly] poor little chap, but surely he will be recovered by now.

What a great lad Graham must be: you remark one day he had been quite witty, it does seem extraordinary to me to think of those children growing up. I always

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imagine them just as I saw them last, the brats, growing up are they? I grudge very much the cut this war’s taking out of our lives: however its got to be done, but I’m looking forward to the end of it.

I had a letter from Mrs. Billy Ellis from New Zealand. She writes regularly to me: they were all well at the time.

And now I shall stop for today. I’ve given you absolutely all the news I’ve got and there isn’t any more to tell about this side of the world: we shall be busy for the next couple of days getting into action again, our rest is finished.

Give my love to old John & to Graham & to you.

Cheer ho & every good luck go with you all.

Yours sincerely
Jock C. Ellis

[Page 45]
France
25 April 1917

Dear Mrs. John

Just before leaving England I got three splendid letters from you, and I assure you those three old letters were the best friends I could have had today: you see I generally get the blues when travelling as a soldier, goodness only knows why – it seems to make one realise each time how little one knows about the war, & to realize how long it may last, and then in sequence I wonder when I shall get back to old Australia, and that completely does me in: I’ve gradually got more & more homesick, and the travelling brings it out: it seems so useless spending days doing nothing, waiting on steamers & trains, always crowded, & always waiting for orders.

So being by way of an old hand now, & knowing myself, I saved up your letters till now. I’m well fed, comfortable fire, ink to write with and so on: and I’ve read the letters & got cheerful once more: and the cheerfulness will last me on till I get up to the front & have a job again to do.

I got offered two permanent jobs in England – and one out here as an A.D.C. [Aide-de-Camp] but did not take them: a healthy fellow has no right in England, not doing A.W.C.

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However one very rapidly settled down when joined up to a new unit.

But again you get tired of constantly meeting and living with a new lot of fellows generally none known to you before: my age tells.

However if the old war can only keep up the present pace, it ought to burn out in a year or two more.

And now lets get onto something cheery. Of course as usual I shall entirely disregard all the questions in your letters for questions answered 4 months late are over the odds – only lawyers can hark back like that.

And who’s this mysterious woman Jean whom you write so glowingly about? Already you have interested me in her tremendously : why, I’m almost in love.

But she must take off the powder, and tell her, for God’s sake keep up the cooking: I hope John approves of her as much as you do: you know one woman’s judgement of another isn’t always the same as a man’s.

But I’m afraid I’ll never be able to fall in love with here her if I go on seeing you (subtle compliment in above two lines, Madam! I really ought to scratch them out: its against my letter writing rules to put things like that: but as its you and your letters were so nice, I’ll leave it this time – showing how old & stupid I’m getting).

Now for some more remarks drawn

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forth by what you’ve written: you ask whether I make any good friends in the regiment.

No, I don’t: lots of acquaintances whom one likes to meet, but nobody intimately enough for friendship: I find it easy enough to get to know cheery fellows and it all helps to pass away the time: but one does not miss or regret them in the very least if you don’t see them again.

There is not much social side to life in the field: one rarely goes, indeed is rarely asked, to go over and visit or feed with other units: I generally have a couple of whiskies and smoke a good deal: one also develops the power of sitting still for long periods of time doing nothing and thinking of nothing: the life succeeds in killing all ones nervous energy, whether it will revive after the war is a matter for conjecture, but one must try and get going again.

I had a very comfortable three months in England although my hours were long when working at St. John’s Wood Barracks training gunner cadets to be officers: but although I was at first glad to be in England, I hadn’t been there a month before I felt rather ashamed of myself for taking on soft jobs – and I shall still feel the same until I’ve done some penance out here again and then I suppose one will try to go back

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to England again, but perhaps the war will end.

So little John (Graham) says a prayer for me, does he? That’s just sweet of him, and you tell him that his Uncle Jock often says a prayer that Graham will grow up into a great big strong fellow, so big & strong that the Germans will always after being be afraid to fight us again: I shall notice a great change in him, I suppose, & also in little Tom.

Children alter so much more in a short time than grown up people.

John seems to have been busy buying and selling & trying to keep the ball rolling generally: I am expecting a wire any day now in end of April saying the season has broken and all looks well for the grass to grow a bit before the hard weather in June: its up to the seasons to remain good for another year or two still.

I’m afraid I’ve simply rambled on in this letter, Mrs John, with all the things I’m thinking about: and I haven’t been polite as I should be and inquired after your health & all you’ve been doing.

But anyhow I’ve liked writing you this letter, and when I get up to the front in a day or so, I’ll write you again, next time probably pencil writing.

Goodbye, best love to John, little John & to you.

From
Jock C. Ellis

[Transcribed by Judy Gimbert for the State Library of New South Wales]