ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS
By our Inquiry Office Orderly, Pte. T. COLLES, 3rd L.H.F.A.
Snidger.—We quite agree with you that this is a soldiers’ journal rather than a Sunday School prize book. Nevertheless, the chaplain-editor feels we must decline the limerick series you submitted us. Our head printer is a married man with a growing family, and sternly refuses to handle your matter. So that settles it.
Anxious.—Your cold feet complaint must not necessarily be a chronic affliction. Many chaps have been permanently cured by a little vigorous pedestrian exercise: such as vaulting the parapet and bogging into a dinkum bayonet charge. So cheer up! It will go away of its own accord once you get “warmed up to it.”
Comic-Cuts.—Sorry all the generals you have so far seen do not come up to your humorous expectations. When youdomeet the general of whom you approve, we should advise you just to drop him a line and let him know. It will warm the poor old fellow up.
Hungry Always.—Yes, soft—or light—diet is absolutely necessary in treatment for dysentery or gastritis. If you think you know better than the doctor, experiment with green quinces and lemonade.... Let’s know how you get on.
Chaplain of the —th.—Dear kind-hearted old chap! Haven’t you quite enough to do here without worrying your head over the progress of war-relief funds in Australia? Anyhow, it may please you to know that it is proposed to impose a special fine for every time the word “blanky” is used by men or officers; the proceeds to go to the various funds. So you need have no fear of the said funds not reaching the million £ mark in quite a short time now.
Seedee Bot.—You can’t expect us to diagnose your complaint if you don’t make your symptoms clear. But if you feel that a torchlight procession is going on in your interior, you have probably exposed yourself too suddenly to an attack of Cambridge sausages and tinned peaches. Try a change of diet, say, whisky and Schweppes with steak and kidney pudding.
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 whereweare.
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 apalais-de-dansethere.