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those players down, and never afterwards could I hear a like roar without associating it with those awful, poignant moments.
Later, I learnt that he was to take reinforcements to the Dardanelles.
From there, came letters that gave me tremendous satisfaction, for he was taking part with the boys who have made Australia famous. In one of his letters, he wrote of the suffering caused by the men not having fruit or vegetables, and by a strange coincidence, for want of a better term (I have learnt to believe that none of these happenings come by chance) I had been instrumental in suggesting to a committee of Patriotic workers that they should send tinned fruit and vegetables, and the first consignment was ready for dispatch when his letter came.
Soon after this when every casualty list had for us all, a horribly portentious interest, there came the expected, and yet dreaded cablegram. I do so well remember taking it from the boy at the door, and running through the house, without just the courage to open it; then, though bad enough, it was not the worst - a gun shot wound in the head, and hospital in England.
Afterwards, when I knew it was in that awful Lone Pine engagement, where so few survived, I realised what I had been spared.
In the months that followed, the strain kept me at breaking point. Convalescence was so protracted, and cables so inadequate, it took seven months for him to recover, and I knew afterwards just what that period of loneliness meant for him in a big hospital surrounded by strangers.
In the meantime, my younger son was completing his artillery course, and after many fretsome delays, he got away in the following May, and again I had to go through the agony of parting. A kind friend placed at my disposal a steam launch, which enabled me to accompany the big transport down the bay, and never shall I forget that scene.
The thousands of keen young faces that bright May morning