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[Page 203]

14 September  1918

My dear Mother

Its Saturday evening - time about half past nine and I'm on the phone sitting in a bell tent which was camouflaged with bamboos and other green stuff a couple of days ago. and Its just beginning to dry and the smell of it carries me back to the Cooyal lucerne flats, and I remember the evenings you and Father and I have driven past there with Joe in the old sulky and smelt the new mown hay, on our way home after a day in Mudgee.

And Now you tare past there in a car and I'll bet you go so fast you hardly see those flats - let alone smell them. But I guess the car will do me and I wont stop to smell smells or be poetical once I get going.

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