A LAST LETTER.

Taranaki Daily News, 15 September 1915, Page 3

A LAST LETTER.

FIGHTING IN'THE DARDANELLES. The following letter has been received by the wife of Mr. W. T. Jennings, M.P., from her son Ed{;:'r, who was killed in the trenches at Gallipoli on August 3. It is the last letter the brave lad penned: Rest Gully, 0/7/15. My Dear Mother, —I will take this opportunity of writing to let you know both Alf (his brother, Sergeant Jennings) and I are quite safe and well. No doubt you have already heard we are into it at last; and, though fighting is a good deal harder than a good many of us bargained for, we are ; all enjoying it immensely. It is not much use of me giving you an account | of the landing, as you have read about j it in the papers; .but from the time we stepped ashore until now we have been constantly in touch with the enemy. The country here is very hilly, and if you can imagine us climbing these hills in front of a murderous fire from the enemy, it will give you a fair idea how hard the job is we are tackling. We had our first bayonet charge two days after we landed. Our company were carrying ammunition up one of these higli cliffs, and we had reached half-way when word came along that the enemy were coming at us from the other side of the hill. It happened that my platoon were leading the way, and as soon as our O.C. heard the enemy were coming the order was given, "Fix bayonets; charge!" Well, we went into it with that dash which has earned for us a great name from everybody. To describe to you the feeling one has going into action is very difficult; but, I might add, not a man flinched when we charged the enemy. Well, we drove them back all right and advanced a few hundred yards, where we formed ourselves into a firing line, and, after digging a trench, we kept a continual fire up until dusk. At about 7.30 that night tile enemy counterattacked, and we simply mowed them down in hundreds. We have successfully hold our position ever since, and the fighting now is mostly in the trenches, where we have the enemy completely under our thumbs. We liave lost a few men, but that cannot be helped. Both Alf and I often wonder how we both managed to come through without a scratch. We have not heard the result of Dad's election yet; but I hope everything will pan out all right. As paper is very scarce here, I shall have to bring this scribble to an end. Remember me to all friends, the boys, Dada, and Bertha; and trusting that God will bring us both back to you safe and sound.— Your loving son, EDGAR.