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[Page 155]
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We had two donkeys at Shell Green & for some weeks they hung around our brigade and the men fed them. The shrapnel burst all over the Green but while several men were killed & wounded the donks escaped injury. They had all the luck. At last when the shells came the men stood by the donks instead of running to cover but at last the luck twisted. One shell burst 10 yards in front of headquarters and wounded both donkeys but never touched a single man. Thats the fortune of war. We shot one of the wounded donks next day & the day after the other donkey (Mrs Donkey) had a tiny wee foal. It was just the cutest thing on Gallipoli. The mother got a bullet through her neck but she does not worry much. The foal is one day old yet it scampers all over the place and is a little marvel. We call it "Shrapnel". I'll try and show you its photo some day.
I wanted to call it Jean or Mabel, Francie or Betty or Nina or Barbara or Christina or something but they called her "Shrapnel". Shes sure to get killed sooner or later (dont cry my dear). We keep her tied up in the day time but we cant watch it all the time. Shes such a pretty little thing - two long ears & legs & a glossy black skin. Miles prettier than a foal. Swish.
Look after Mum. Dont let Anne work too hard. When I get to Constantinople, I'll go straight to a harem [sketch of stick figures] (get away you kids) I mean a silk shop & get you something pretty. PS I'm quite well thank you which I hope you are as it leaves me at present. Your affectionate brother.