Since it’s Anzac Day in Australia, I wanted to share these letters between my charismatic Gramps, Arthur J Hart aka Aspro and his mates Ha’penny and Ritchie. These letters were written in WWII around 1941 and the snippets were transcribed by my mum, who holds a lot of fantastic memorabilia from old ‘Bugle Bum Hart’. The original letters and his memoirs can be found in the State Library of South Australia.
Letter from Hape to Aspro:
Woodside Camp.
On the march.
Goodday Pissbucket!! Bugger it all Hart, I’ve lost me pipe……
Gawd Almighty we are doing a super march now, only 194 miles a fortnight……we went on a stunt the udder day and Ritchie and I had to act in our capacity as scouts. The Platoon Sergeant sent me over a hill to see if I could see a ruined church. No, I couldn’t see one but I did see a corker patch of blackberries down the next gully. So!! After about an hour at these and some time spent chasing rabbits, I went back only to find the truck gone…….
I wish you could see the scene from where I am writing this missive: over on the left there’s a huge fire going. A bit further up I can see a joker gnawing a mutton bone. In front there’s eight two-up rings and twelve poker schools. A little way over there’s a bloke chasing someone with a shovel. I think he wants to give it him (across the skull maybe). Around to the right there’s a couple of blokes having a bog and just next to me is Ritchie and he persists in reading aloud, short stories out of his book and farting frequently. My Gawd.
Letter from Hape to Aspro.
June Oneth.
Abroad.
Aspro you beaut. After apparently circumnavigating this Earthern Globule an unspecified number of times your letter dated 22/4/41 has finally reached me.
It’s so long since I’ve had a letter from you that at first, the writing on the envelope caused me to be assailed with doubts as to the author thereof. But upon rending the envelope asunder and noting various wordlings within, my cup of joy was full. Gosh Spro it’s good to hear form you again old pal old pal……
Hart, you melon, fancy wanting to leave a place like Aussie……Ritchie and I are alternately bending from the waist…….
Yeah, we did embark at Sydney or at least someone said it was Sydney. Anyway they had a funny little bridge there over the creek. It was going from one side to the other and had water going under it.
What? You amaze me! No bludging in your section? Bludging in the Middle East is particularly rife……Ritchie has accused me of sitting down so much that my bum has healed over……
We often get attacks of the ‘remembers’ especially when we retire early. Old days up at OB and the hut at Victor Harbour are our chief topics. Gosh! We turn up some old ground be gee and laugh!
Aspro, little did we realise then that those will probably be the best times, as a mob, that we will ever have, The gang is scattered far and wide now, but we will get together again some day. You betcha!……
Ritchie is usually good for a bite and he is keeping me in tobacco until pay day……Don’t forget to write to your cloth-headed cobber occasionally and keep the old elbow on operation remember ‘its and ill wind that blows no froth’.
Bungho Curlytop……
Appendicitis to above letter,
same bloke.
same place.
Cripes, you should just cop our tent! Well, I’ve seen shousers and shousers but this takes the belch! We had a fire just a while ago, burning a huge heap of old letters. The silly arses didn’t think to light it near the door and as a result all the charred paper, cinder, clinkers and other debris has blown all over the joint.
Dreyer helped matters a hell of a lot by waving a blanket around and scattered the stuff a bit more. Mainly over our beds, which are laid out. Now another really bright spark just opened the back of the tent and started a flaming whirlwind and gord strewth there’s black over every damned thing in the tent…… coo, it looks as though it might rain. I suppose it does rain here, we dunno yet. Well, I think I’ll go and have a drink – of milk.
Cherio Bunghole.
Letter from Ritchie to Aspro:
1/6/41
Dear Arthur,
Well, Spro how are you getting along. I was pleased to receive your letter. I always get choice bits from Ha’penny’s letters from you read to me and they give me a sort of breeze straight from the hut door…….
Let me tell you Hart I was not sick on the boat and never missed a meal……
I have not received your parcel yet but I am thanking you in anticipation. I went down to see your family one Sunday but they were not at home so I went down to Berts on the off chance but it was no go……
Talking of grog. I got rather plastered one night on the boat and was taken to bed reciting the poem called ‘The Daffodils’ by Wordsworth……. It is with this happy thought that I say farewell to you and ‘get stuffed Hart’ All the best.
Letter from Ritchie to Aspro
Somewhere in Syria.
8/7/41
Dear Spro,
I received your very welcome letter in the eighteenth of June. Hape and I are separated now, we are in different sections in the same platoon and only see each other every other day or so……as a matter of fact I have been in action (by the way, so has Ha’penny)……
The photograph of you actually looks the same. The eye is clear so you are not shickered so the enormity of being a leading aircraftsman must be weighing down your shoulders. Anyhow, more power to your arm. Good luck.
Letter from Hape to Aspro:
somewhere in Syria.
8/7/41
Dear Ole Spro,
Strike me pink Hart, spare me the sudden shocks……
I received several letters containing the sad tidings that you had departed from the beer spattered shores of Aussie thereby much wailing and lamenting, but then blow me down with a bottle opener (Mark 11) if I don’t get a letter last night bearing the legend RAAF Williamstown. I was so bucked at receiving a letter from my aider and abetter that I felt like going out and engaging the enemy single handed……I often wish you were over here with us, I reckon between us we could have cleaned up this war in no time……
Upon moving to a new area we were relieved to discover that our resting place was a large grove of trees, on the banks of a swiftly flowing mountain stream. This area happened to be the first piece flat ground I had trodden on for weeks. As a matter of fact one of my legs was beginning to grow longer than the other through continually standing on the sides of mountains……
Well, Spro I had better spare the censors feelings a bit and draw this epistle to a close. For Gawd’s Sake look after yourself and hope for the day when we get together again. Next time you imbibe, drink one toast to ‘the day’ and I will do likewise. Bungho you old bludger. See you soon.
Your old cobber Ha’penny.
Letter from Hape to Aspro:
Syria.
23/11/41
Dear Spro
I often think about the old times we had together, for they are sacred memories Spro ones I’ll never forget and let’s hope it won’t be long before we’ll be off again somewhere armed with the following pieces, grub for fourteen and my old stetson. Bungho cobber.
Letter from Hape to Aspro:
Syria.
15/1/42
Dear Waterbrain,
I received a brace of letters from you about 4 weeks to a month ago, both headed ‘at sea’ or ‘on the herbs’ or some such apt label, one bearing a Panama stamp written 28 days after your birthday and another epistle enclosed a drawing of the beaut tattoo on your raspberry balm. Canst thou recollect them? Or the swirling mists of alcohol befog the grey matter as yet……
Believe it or not Hart, I have a moustache. I have long cultivated the struggling stubble……Ritchie is certainly not an inspiring figure at the best of times, but when inebriated he is definitely ludicrous. Recites poetry he does, complete with actions. On Xmas eve I observed him weaving up the track burbling something about good King Wenceslas or some such. Anyway the effort was too great so he retired to his couch, no doubt anticipating a lengthy period of slumber……
burning the toe out of your sock on board the ship reminded me of the time you fell into the canal at Swanport.
