This page has already been transcribed. You can find new pages to transcribe here.

Transcription

[Page 132]

3
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

Current Status: 
Completed