Undignified.—We sympathise with you deeply in your suffering from the effects of a shrapnel pellet. Naturally, every man on returning to his country would be proud to display to his admiring relatives and friends those honourable scars received on active service. You had bad luck, but at the same time you should not have tried the ostrich act when the shell burst.
Parcel Post.—You say you wouldn’t mind an occasional case of eat-and-drinkables in the parcel as well as the socks and shirts and box of liquorice powders. They will all be useful, but anyway, think of your poor flurried aunts and sisters at home, fighting their way with knitting-needles—wild-eyed and tousle-haired—through a deadly maze of skein-wool entanglements! It’s horrible! We’re better off where we are.
Adjutant.—Yes, it’s a pity that one of your men—such a seasoned veteran and a capable and obedient soldier, too—should have such kleptomaniacal tendencies. But we wouldn’t advise you to have him sent back. Make him your batman, instead.... Why, the man was born for the position!
Fuzzy.—Your suggestions will be handed on to the proper quarters. The only objection to the suggested cinema show at Reserve Gully might be that the boys in the firing trenches would make it too hot “sneakin’ off to the pitchers” every night.... Afraid you’ve no hope of seeing a pub built over the road, opposite William’s Pier.... Yes, it’s possible that our motor wagons might run penny section moonlight trips to Salt Lake and back to Anzac. But we fear that there is no hope of a palais-de-danse there.
EACH ONE DOING HIS BIT
Drawn by W. OTHO HEWETT
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