Lt William Britt seemed to be leading a charmed life when he survived the landing at Gallipoli. Bullets passed through his hat and several parts of his clothes. One broke his favourite pipe while another grazed his wrist, but still he fought on.
Then, all of a sudden an exploding shell put him out of action. And he was eventually sent to Ras-el-Tin military hospital at Alexandria from where he wrote to his mother, describing that fateful day, 25 April 1915.
"We knew what we were there for - the attack on the Dardenelles," he wrote. "The 3rd Brigade was picked for the covering party - that is to land first and clear the enemy away from the shore. The 11th Batt was the first to land. We left the island at 2pm on a Saturday afternoon and steamed up towards the Straits. At 12 midnight we anchored and climbed silently over the side down rope ladders onto a destroyer.
Lt Britt eventually recovered from his wounds and was sent to France where he fought with the 51st Battalion Australian Infantry. He was killed on Monday 10 June 1918 on the Somme and is buried at Villers-Bretonneux Military Cemetery.
Such a sad photo and story. David's grandad was at the Somme. He survived but that was where he fell out with God. He had been brought up Roman Catholic but after his experiences in WW1 he figured that if there was a God he would never allow such a horrific event. He never went to church again.
This is a beautiful tribute, and - tragically - a story that survives through years and years and happens again and again. That's why I very much like the history of the letter, and the current feel of the photo. Sadly, they are so much linked to each other.
May 3rd, 2015
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