Uploaded pix which appear on the Desert Column Forum.
Western Mail, Thursday 21 December 1933, page 2
A SERIAL STORY.
Dear "Non-Com."-During my Blackboy Hill days we were at one time a little short of tents. Many of us were not at all troubled, because we preferred being buried during the night outside a tent with drifting dust and sand, to sleeping 20 to a tent inside. On one occasion, on the return from a route march, the murky day changed into a really wet night. One of the big tents was requisitioned, and was filled with tired men. One chap kept up a ceaseless chatter to his mate, who never answered him audibly; but many were debarred from their well-earned repose by the incessant voice in the darkness. The talker did not seem to realise that others wanted to sleep, until a tired voice drawled out: "I say, old chap, write it down and give it to him in the morning."
The result was instantaneous, much to the comfort of the old platoon.
"B Coy. 11th," Geraldton.