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Walter had been unable to arrive at is wife’s bedside in time.
It was March 1932 the great depression of the thirty’s was at its worst. Walter had been working susso on the road at Gillies Camp some hundreds of miles down south. The first he heard of the call for him was by bush telegraph. An announcement, which had been made by the hospital authorities over the radio, just happened to have been heard by the local butchers boy who passed it on. Walter dropped the shovel he had been working with and ran to the highway.
Hitching a ride most of the way and completing the distance by train the fare given to him by the driver of the lorry, he eventually arrived at the hospital but he was too late. Too late and too numbed he was to know the full measure of his anguish when subsequently he was handed a letter, his own letter written to Mary and posted from Gillies Camp the day after she had died.
As it happened she had left behind a two year old son, who for whatever reason was in the same hospital at the time of his mother’s death. The father gathered the infant into his arms and went out into the night. Weeks later the men at Gillies Camp “passed around the hat” to help pay for Mary’s burial.
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