2nd Lieutenant William Richard Doolan, 8th Battalion AIF
He was born on 12th January 1890, the son of Charles Doolan, Oakridge, Victoria.
He was married to Mrs Louisa Florence Doolan, of Dandenong Road, Oakleigh, Victoria.
He was Civil Servant at the Crown Law Department of the State.
1st year Law Degree at Melbourne University.
He was in the Melbourne High School Cadets for 2 years – Sergeant for 8 months, 2nd Leiutanant 4 months
He enlisted at Oakleigh, Victoria.
15th June 1916 He completed the Officers course at 6th Officers School at Broadmeadows.
22nd June 1915 applied for commission.
16th July 1915 He is allocated to 8th Battalion, 12th Reinforcements.
7th August 1915 His commission is gazetted.
23rd November 1915 He embarked for Egypt.
27th March 1916 He embarked on the “Saxonia.”
2nd April 1916 He disembarked in France
25th May 1916 He proceeded to join the 8th.
18th August 1916 He was Killed in Action aged 25, his rescue was attempted by Private Richard Waltham who was himself killed in the attempt.
He is buried in Pozieres British Cemetery Ovillers-La-Boisselle
Source : National Archives of Australia
Friday, September 28, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Private Richard Waltham, 8th Battalion A.I.F.
Private Richard Waltham, 3983, 8th Battalion A.I.F.
Richard Waltham died in an attempt to carry back the injured Lieut Doolan from No Man’s Land. He had originally been with the 28th Battalion in Egypt, but after returning to Australia, was transferred at his own request to the 8th Battalion.
He was born on 19th February 1894, son of Joshua Frederick and Constance Winifried Waltham, of Tangil Hills, Victoria, Australia. A Native of Heidelberg, Victoria.
He went to Guildford Grammar School, Western Australia.
He was 5’ 11” tall, weighed 169 Lbs and had Brown eyes and Dark brown hair.
His job at enlistment is given as a Farmer
4th March 1915 he enlisted at Wanneroo, Western Australia with the 28th Battalion.
15th April 1915 He was promoted to Corporal.
9th June 1915 He left Australia with the 28th Battalion
7th August 1915 He was admitted to Hospital (V.D.), same day was reverted back to Private.
31st August 1915 He returned to Australia on “Wiltshire” with V.D.
23rd November 1915 He embarked on “Ceramic” for Egypt, transferred to the 8th Battalion.
18th February 1916 He was admitted to Hospital again, this time with mumps at Abbassia.
4th March 1916 He was discharged from 4th Auxiliary Hospital
8th March 1916 He was sent to Australian Reserve
29th march 1916 He left Alexandria for Europe on the “Transylvania”
4th April 1916 Disembarked at Marseilles.
10th May 1916 He was disciplined for disorderly conduct.
17th May 1916 Joined the 8th Battalion from Etaples
18th August 1916 He was Killed in Action, at Martinpuich near Pozieres whilst trying to rescue Lieut Doolan, aged 22.
His notes on Roll of Honour give this description of his service:
“He left Western Australia as a Corporal, on 9th June 1915 in the 28th Battalion. He left Egypt returned as Corporal on board troopship with wounded soldiers to Victoria. At own request he was transferred to 8th Battalion. He was killed in night raid, stuck in the forehead by shell while assisting to carry Lieutenant Doolan who was wounded to safety. (Lt. Doolan died of wounds, while prisoner).
He is buried in Pozieres British Cemetery, Ovillers-La-Boisselle.
Source : National Archives of Australia
Richard Waltham died in an attempt to carry back the injured Lieut Doolan from No Man’s Land. He had originally been with the 28th Battalion in Egypt, but after returning to Australia, was transferred at his own request to the 8th Battalion.
He was born on 19th February 1894, son of Joshua Frederick and Constance Winifried Waltham, of Tangil Hills, Victoria, Australia. A Native of Heidelberg, Victoria.
He went to Guildford Grammar School, Western Australia.
He was 5’ 11” tall, weighed 169 Lbs and had Brown eyes and Dark brown hair.
His job at enlistment is given as a Farmer
4th March 1915 he enlisted at Wanneroo, Western Australia with the 28th Battalion.
15th April 1915 He was promoted to Corporal.
9th June 1915 He left Australia with the 28th Battalion
7th August 1915 He was admitted to Hospital (V.D.), same day was reverted back to Private.
31st August 1915 He returned to Australia on “Wiltshire” with V.D.
23rd November 1915 He embarked on “Ceramic” for Egypt, transferred to the 8th Battalion.
18th February 1916 He was admitted to Hospital again, this time with mumps at Abbassia.
4th March 1916 He was discharged from 4th Auxiliary Hospital
8th March 1916 He was sent to Australian Reserve
29th march 1916 He left Alexandria for Europe on the “Transylvania”
4th April 1916 Disembarked at Marseilles.
10th May 1916 He was disciplined for disorderly conduct.
17th May 1916 Joined the 8th Battalion from Etaples
18th August 1916 He was Killed in Action, at Martinpuich near Pozieres whilst trying to rescue Lieut Doolan, aged 22.
His notes on Roll of Honour give this description of his service:
“He left Western Australia as a Corporal, on 9th June 1915 in the 28th Battalion. He left Egypt returned as Corporal on board troopship with wounded soldiers to Victoria. At own request he was transferred to 8th Battalion. He was killed in night raid, stuck in the forehead by shell while assisting to carry Lieutenant Doolan who was wounded to safety. (Lt. Doolan died of wounds, while prisoner).
He is buried in Pozieres British Cemetery, Ovillers-La-Boisselle.
Source : National Archives of Australia
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Private William John Hawkey, 8th Battalion, AIF.
Private William John Hawkey , 3796, 8th Battalion, AIF.
Born in Geelong, Victoria
Father was William Henry Hawkey, of Cave Hill, Lilydale, Victoria.
He was only 5’ 3” tall, weighed 10 Stone 7 Lbs, and had Brown eyes and Light Brown hair.
Enlisted in Melbourne Victoria on 5th July 1915 aged 30 years.
He was a Barman at time of Enlistment.
17th July 1915 He was joined the 12th Reinforcements of the 8th Battalion at Broadmeadows.
4th November 1915 He was sent to Egypt on the “Ceramic”.
29th March 1916 He left Alexandria for Europe.
4th April 1916 He disembarked at Marseilles and went to Etaples.
24th May 1916 He proceeded to join the 8th battalion.
26th May 1916 He was taken by the 8th.
25th July 1916 he was Killed in Action aged 31.
The Red Cross reports into his death, were as follows:
“Pte. Hawkey was killed by shrapnel in an attack by us, while on fatigue duty at night. I saw the body several times lying in the open. I believe it was buried later as the Pioneers were digging and burying all they could find.” Pte. J.A. Hantot, 3794, 8th Battalion.
“C Company were moving up the Pozieres road between 10 & 11 pm on July 25th to reinforce the front line. The Germans were shelling this road and a shell landed in the 12th Platoon. Killing Hawkey instantly and wounding 10 or 12 others. Informant who was in the following platoon no 11 some 10yards behind saw all this.” Pte. A.J. Lechte, 3166, 8th Battalion, 11 Platoon, C Company AIF.
“I saw Hawkey killed on July 25th near Pozieres village, he was in the M.G.S. I don’t know his Company. He was caught by a splinter of a shell. Two shells came along one after another and caught him. We managed to get out of the way. It was not a regular advance; we were just going up bombing. We could not bring in his body, but in the ordinary course it would be brought in and buried. Eyewitness: Yes. Description : Small, fair, thin hair, age 25 or 26, came from Melbourne.” Pte. Lionel Miller, 3407, AIF. H.Q.Company Bomber.
“Was told he was blown to pieces near the chalk pit at Pozieres. It was common knowledge amongst them.” Parsons, 3888, 8th Battalion.
He is buried in Pozieres British Cemetery Ovillers-La-Boisselle .
Source :National Archives of Australia
Born in Geelong, Victoria
Father was William Henry Hawkey, of Cave Hill, Lilydale, Victoria.
He was only 5’ 3” tall, weighed 10 Stone 7 Lbs, and had Brown eyes and Light Brown hair.
Enlisted in Melbourne Victoria on 5th July 1915 aged 30 years.
He was a Barman at time of Enlistment.
17th July 1915 He was joined the 12th Reinforcements of the 8th Battalion at Broadmeadows.
4th November 1915 He was sent to Egypt on the “Ceramic”.
29th March 1916 He left Alexandria for Europe.
4th April 1916 He disembarked at Marseilles and went to Etaples.
24th May 1916 He proceeded to join the 8th battalion.
26th May 1916 He was taken by the 8th.
25th July 1916 he was Killed in Action aged 31.
The Red Cross reports into his death, were as follows:
“Pte. Hawkey was killed by shrapnel in an attack by us, while on fatigue duty at night. I saw the body several times lying in the open. I believe it was buried later as the Pioneers were digging and burying all they could find.” Pte. J.A. Hantot, 3794, 8th Battalion.
“C Company were moving up the Pozieres road between 10 & 11 pm on July 25th to reinforce the front line. The Germans were shelling this road and a shell landed in the 12th Platoon. Killing Hawkey instantly and wounding 10 or 12 others. Informant who was in the following platoon no 11 some 10yards behind saw all this.” Pte. A.J. Lechte, 3166, 8th Battalion, 11 Platoon, C Company AIF.
“I saw Hawkey killed on July 25th near Pozieres village, he was in the M.G.S. I don’t know his Company. He was caught by a splinter of a shell. Two shells came along one after another and caught him. We managed to get out of the way. It was not a regular advance; we were just going up bombing. We could not bring in his body, but in the ordinary course it would be brought in and buried. Eyewitness: Yes. Description : Small, fair, thin hair, age 25 or 26, came from Melbourne.” Pte. Lionel Miller, 3407, AIF. H.Q.Company Bomber.
“Was told he was blown to pieces near the chalk pit at Pozieres. It was common knowledge amongst them.” Parsons, 3888, 8th Battalion.
He is buried in Pozieres British Cemetery Ovillers-La-Boisselle .
Source :National Archives of Australia
Friday, September 21, 2007
The Unnamed II- Additional Pictures from the Somme
In a previous post 'The Unnamed' i published some photographes taken by my friend Roger Stoakley.
Here are a few more taken on the Somme battlefield (click on the photo for a larger image).
Thursday, September 20, 2007
A Sad Mistake - the Wrong Letter
Sometimes in the chaos of war, sad mistakes were made. This article published in the Eastbourne Gazette on 18th September 1918, highlights this. It was fortunate for Mr and Mrs Allchorn that they knew where their son really was.
A Sad Mistake
Burial of an Unknown Soldier
"Mr and Mrs Allchorn. 27, Willowfield road, request us to publish the following letter which they have received from a chaplain in France:-
“I am sorry to have to write to you on such a sad subject and I want to offer you my heartfelt sympathy in your sorrow at the death of your boy. I buried him in the military cemetery near Bapaume and in due course a cross will be erected on his grave. Presently it will help you to think of him as happy at Home with the One Who and ‘Greater love hath no man than this that he lay down his life for his friend.’”
This letter is a mistake, for the son of Mr and Mrs Allchorn is at present in hospital in Halifax wounded for the fourth time. Efforts to rectify the mistake have failed, but it is hoped that the identity of the dead soldier may yet be established."
A Sad Mistake
Burial of an Unknown Soldier
"Mr and Mrs Allchorn. 27, Willowfield road, request us to publish the following letter which they have received from a chaplain in France:-
“I am sorry to have to write to you on such a sad subject and I want to offer you my heartfelt sympathy in your sorrow at the death of your boy. I buried him in the military cemetery near Bapaume and in due course a cross will be erected on his grave. Presently it will help you to think of him as happy at Home with the One Who and ‘Greater love hath no man than this that he lay down his life for his friend.’”
This letter is a mistake, for the son of Mr and Mrs Allchorn is at present in hospital in Halifax wounded for the fourth time. Efforts to rectify the mistake have failed, but it is hoped that the identity of the dead soldier may yet be established."
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
The Letters of the Dead by Edward Dyson
This is an excellent poem from the Australian Poet Edward Dyson.
THE LETTERS OF THE DEAD
A letter came from Dick to-day;
A greeting glad he sends to me.
He tells of one more bloody fray--
Of how with bomb and rifle they
Have put their mark for all to see
Across rock-ribbed Gallipoli.
"How are you doing? Hope all's well,
I in great nick, and like the work.
Though there may be a brimstone smell,
And other pungent hints of Hell,
Not Satan's self can make us shirk
Our task of hitting up the Turk.
"You bet old Slacks is not half bad
He knows his business in a scrim.
He gets cold steel, or we are glad
To stop him with a bullet, lad.
Or sling a bomb his hair to trim;
But, straight, we throw no mud at him.
"He fights and falls, and comes again,
And knocks our charging lines about.
He's game at heart, and tough in grain,
And canters through the leaded rain,
Chock full of mettle--not a doubt
'T will do us proud to put him out.
"But that's our job; to see it through
We've made our minds up, come what may,
This noon we had our work to do.
The shells were dropping two by two;
We fairly felt their bullets play
Among our hair for half a day.
"One clipped my ear, a red-hot kiss,
Another beggar chipped my shin.
They pass you with a vicious hiss
That makes you duck; but, hit or miss,
It isn't in the Sultan's skin
To shift Australia's cheerful grin.
"My oath, old man, though we were prone
We didn't take it lying down.
I got a dozen on my own--
All dread of killing now is flown;
It is the game, and, hard and brown,
We're wading in for freedom's crown.
"Big guns are booming as I write,
A lad is singing 'Dolly Grey,'
The shells are skipping in the night,
And, square and all, I feeling right
For, whisper, Ned, the fellows say
I did a ripping thing to-day.
"Soon homeward tramping with the band,
All notched a bit, and with the prize
Of glory for our native land,
I'll see my little sweetheart stand
And smile, her smile, so sweet and wise--
With proud tears shining in her eyes.
"Geewhiz! What price your humble when
Triumphant from the last attack,
We face a Melbourne crowd again,
Tough, happy, battle-proven men,
And while the cheer-stormed heavens crack
I bring the tattered colors back!"
....
A mist is o'er the written line
Whence martial ardor seems to flow;
A dull ache holds this heart of mine--
Poor boy, he had a vision fine;
But grave dust clouds the royal glow;
He died in action weeks ago!
He was my friend--I may not weep.
My soul goes out to Him who bled;
I pray for Christ's compassion deep
On mothers, lovers--all who keep
The woeful vigil, having read
The joyous letters of the dead.
THE LETTERS OF THE DEAD
A letter came from Dick to-day;
A greeting glad he sends to me.
He tells of one more bloody fray--
Of how with bomb and rifle they
Have put their mark for all to see
Across rock-ribbed Gallipoli.
"How are you doing? Hope all's well,
I in great nick, and like the work.
Though there may be a brimstone smell,
And other pungent hints of Hell,
Not Satan's self can make us shirk
Our task of hitting up the Turk.
"You bet old Slacks is not half bad
He knows his business in a scrim.
He gets cold steel, or we are glad
To stop him with a bullet, lad.
Or sling a bomb his hair to trim;
But, straight, we throw no mud at him.
"He fights and falls, and comes again,
And knocks our charging lines about.
He's game at heart, and tough in grain,
And canters through the leaded rain,
Chock full of mettle--not a doubt
'T will do us proud to put him out.
"But that's our job; to see it through
We've made our minds up, come what may,
This noon we had our work to do.
The shells were dropping two by two;
We fairly felt their bullets play
Among our hair for half a day.
"One clipped my ear, a red-hot kiss,
Another beggar chipped my shin.
They pass you with a vicious hiss
That makes you duck; but, hit or miss,
It isn't in the Sultan's skin
To shift Australia's cheerful grin.
"My oath, old man, though we were prone
We didn't take it lying down.
I got a dozen on my own--
All dread of killing now is flown;
It is the game, and, hard and brown,
We're wading in for freedom's crown.
"Big guns are booming as I write,
A lad is singing 'Dolly Grey,'
The shells are skipping in the night,
And, square and all, I feeling right
For, whisper, Ned, the fellows say
I did a ripping thing to-day.
"Soon homeward tramping with the band,
All notched a bit, and with the prize
Of glory for our native land,
I'll see my little sweetheart stand
And smile, her smile, so sweet and wise--
With proud tears shining in her eyes.
"Geewhiz! What price your humble when
Triumphant from the last attack,
We face a Melbourne crowd again,
Tough, happy, battle-proven men,
And while the cheer-stormed heavens crack
I bring the tattered colors back!"
....
A mist is o'er the written line
Whence martial ardor seems to flow;
A dull ache holds this heart of mine--
Poor boy, he had a vision fine;
But grave dust clouds the royal glow;
He died in action weeks ago!
He was my friend--I may not weep.
My soul goes out to Him who bled;
I pray for Christ's compassion deep
On mothers, lovers--all who keep
The woeful vigil, having read
The joyous letters of the dead.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Messines Ridge Military Cemetery
Messines Ridge Military Cemetery is located on the road leading west from Messines towards Wulvergehem, on the ridge which dominates the lower lying land below. Before the battle of Messines, in early 1917 this spot was approximately where the German lines ran, and the cemetery does not in fact date from the War itself, but was created after the Armistice.
There are also special memorials to soldiers buried elsewhere but whose graves were later destroyed by shell-fire. On the left hand side of the Cemetery stands a large impressive pavilion like building, and looking from this the domination of the position is clear. Looking south, the spires of Armentieres are visible. In fact, Messines is nearer to Armentieres than to Ypres.
The cemetery also contains a memorial to the officers and men of New Zealand who fell in or near Messines in 1917 and 1918. Looking west from the cemetery, the spire of Wulvergehem church can be seen. The picture above shows the entrance to the cemetery; the New Zealand memorial is surmounted by the Cross of Sacrifice and is in the form of panels around the circular base on which the cross is set. These panels are arranged by regiment, including panels for Maori, Auckland, Canterbury and Wellington Regiments. This is one of several such memorials to those from New Zealand with no known grave; after the war, the New Zealanders decided not to have the names of their soldiers whose bodies had never been recovered or identified commemorated on the Menin Gate. Instead, there are seven New Zealand memorials to the missing in France and Belgium, and these have been placed in cemeteries which were appropriate to the fighting in which those listed on each died (such as here at Messines).
The memorial commemorates more than 800 New Zealand soldiers, and the Cemetery beyond has over 1500 graves, approximately two thirds of which are unidentified, reflecting this cemeteries nature - it was created by recovery of many bodies from the Messines battlefields after the war.
There are also special memorials to soldiers buried elsewhere but whose graves were later destroyed by shell-fire. On the left hand side of the Cemetery stands a large impressive pavilion like building, and looking from this the domination of the position is clear. Looking south, the spires of Armentieres are visible. In fact, Messines is nearer to Armentieres than to Ypres.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Lord Roberts Memorial Workshops
Field Marshal Lord Roberts, who had won the Victoria Cross in 1857, had long campaigned for more to be done for ex-servicemen, especially those who had been disabled. He took a keen interest in the Workshops and became one of the Trustees. Following his death in 1914 while visiting troops in France it was decided, as a memorial to him, to expand the workshops and to name them after him.
By 1920 there were eleven Workshops around the country producing a wide variety of goods including basket ware, toys, beds and bedding and all types of furniture.
As a fund raising scheme Miniature Tanks were produced to collect money, Mrs. Erskine a successful Eastbourne fund raiser started the scheme rolling in Eastbourne.
This editorial appeared on 11th September 1918 in the Eastbourne Gazette
Miniature Tank Week
"In another column will be noticed an appeal by Mrs. Erskine for support in connection with a special “Week.” She is arranging to commence on September 30. The object is a most worthy one, viz, to assist the Lord Roberts Memorial Workshops Fund, which provides practical training for men who have been disabled in the service of their country. It will be remembered that last summer the tireless Mrs. Erskine organised a fete which proved extraordinarily successful. Such a project cannot be repeated this year, and Mrs. Erskine, stimulated by the result of Eastbourne Tank Week, has decided to make weeks collection with the aid of miniature tanks. There is a scheme in progress for the establishment of a workshop at Brighton for the training of disabled and limbless men belonging to our own county regiment and the regiments to two neighbouring counties, and it is to this object that the collections will be devoted. The least Sussex people can do is to provide for their own countrymen who have paid all but the full price for England and Eastbourne must cheerfully bear a share of the burden. We must see that those who have suffered the supreme agony of war-disablement are made care-free and a happy as possible. A means to this end the Lord Roberts Memorial Worksops Fund, which will give the broken soldier the opportunity to learn and work at a trade suitable to his disability, and thus, with the aid of his pension, make him self-supporting and free from the stigma of charity. Such a scheme cannot but be very near the hearts of Eastbourne people and Mrs. Erskine must inevitably achieve success in her Miniature Tank Week."
A week later Mrs Erskine wrote to the Gazette (18th September 1918) and they published her letter.
The Lord Roberts Memorial Workshops.
Sir, - The Tanks have come. I hope Eastbourne will remember that, though I have not got a flag day in aid of the above, I am waiting for people to take a “tank money box” and collect during the week, September 30 to October 5. Messers. Chadwick Ltd. Have generously lent me 38 Grove road as my office. Two disabled men will be there from the Brighton workshops for that week to answer all questions. The reason why it is so costly to equip the workshops with the machinery is that it has to be specially designed to fit the requirements of one-armed and one-legged men. Patronise the entertainments got up during the week. Show the disabled men your enthusiasm and zeal. They are looking for it.
The Sussex, Kent and Hants men are to be provided for at this big workshop in Brighton. Look at the plan of it, which will be on view in my “Shop.” The sooner the money comes in the quicker it can be built. Your money is a thank offering to these men: make it worthy. I wish I could stir you all to give generously. Their generous giving meant life itself and failing life, a broken body; for you and me. The only ask now to be enabled to earn a living for themselves and those they love. I pray you give it. Let us also say, as they did: “We are at your disposal to death.”
Yours truly, M. Erskine.
Local Hon. Secretary, Treasurer and Organising Secretary.
By 1920 there were eleven Workshops around the country producing a wide variety of goods including basket ware, toys, beds and bedding and all types of furniture.
As a fund raising scheme Miniature Tanks were produced to collect money, Mrs. Erskine a successful Eastbourne fund raiser started the scheme rolling in Eastbourne.
This editorial appeared on 11th September 1918 in the Eastbourne Gazette
Miniature Tank Week
"In another column will be noticed an appeal by Mrs. Erskine for support in connection with a special “Week.” She is arranging to commence on September 30. The object is a most worthy one, viz, to assist the Lord Roberts Memorial Workshops Fund, which provides practical training for men who have been disabled in the service of their country. It will be remembered that last summer the tireless Mrs. Erskine organised a fete which proved extraordinarily successful. Such a project cannot be repeated this year, and Mrs. Erskine, stimulated by the result of Eastbourne Tank Week, has decided to make weeks collection with the aid of miniature tanks. There is a scheme in progress for the establishment of a workshop at Brighton for the training of disabled and limbless men belonging to our own county regiment and the regiments to two neighbouring counties, and it is to this object that the collections will be devoted. The least Sussex people can do is to provide for their own countrymen who have paid all but the full price for England and Eastbourne must cheerfully bear a share of the burden. We must see that those who have suffered the supreme agony of war-disablement are made care-free and a happy as possible. A means to this end the Lord Roberts Memorial Worksops Fund, which will give the broken soldier the opportunity to learn and work at a trade suitable to his disability, and thus, with the aid of his pension, make him self-supporting and free from the stigma of charity. Such a scheme cannot but be very near the hearts of Eastbourne people and Mrs. Erskine must inevitably achieve success in her Miniature Tank Week."
A week later Mrs Erskine wrote to the Gazette (18th September 1918) and they published her letter.
The Lord Roberts Memorial Workshops.
Sir, - The Tanks have come. I hope Eastbourne will remember that, though I have not got a flag day in aid of the above, I am waiting for people to take a “tank money box” and collect during the week, September 30 to October 5. Messers. Chadwick Ltd. Have generously lent me 38 Grove road as my office. Two disabled men will be there from the Brighton workshops for that week to answer all questions. The reason why it is so costly to equip the workshops with the machinery is that it has to be specially designed to fit the requirements of one-armed and one-legged men. Patronise the entertainments got up during the week. Show the disabled men your enthusiasm and zeal. They are looking for it.
The Sussex, Kent and Hants men are to be provided for at this big workshop in Brighton. Look at the plan of it, which will be on view in my “Shop.” The sooner the money comes in the quicker it can be built. Your money is a thank offering to these men: make it worthy. I wish I could stir you all to give generously. Their generous giving meant life itself and failing life, a broken body; for you and me. The only ask now to be enabled to earn a living for themselves and those they love. I pray you give it. Let us also say, as they did: “We are at your disposal to death.”
Yours truly, M. Erskine.
Local Hon. Secretary, Treasurer and Organising Secretary.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Small Men Wanted for Tanks!
This article was in the Eastbourne Gazette. It gives an excellent indication of the feeling of the times.
Mr. Beattie was the Government representative at Tribunals and had a reputation of sending everyone that he could to the front. I love his statement that a musician is no use to the nation!!
11th October 1916 - Eastbourne Gazette
WANTED FOR THE TANKS
Great Demand for Small Men
"On Wednesday a member of the Devonshire Park Orchestra who has been passed for garrison service abroad and will be 41 on the 8th December next, appeared before the Eastbourne Borough Tribunal. In his written application he pointed out that he was not only a question of flexibility of the fingers, but of the wrist and that a short period of military work would occasion a loss of technique which it would take a long time to regain. He also mentioned that he was just under seven stone in weight.
Mr Beattie- “There is a great demand for small men for the tanks.”
Alderman E. Duke- “Mr Beattie wants them all.”
Mr Beattie- “They are taking men under five feet for the tanks. This man would not be taken as he has been passed for garrison duty. As a musician he is of no use to the nation. As a soldier he would be of some use.”
The Tribunal granted twelve weeks exemption."
Mr. Beattie was the Government representative at Tribunals and had a reputation of sending everyone that he could to the front. I love his statement that a musician is no use to the nation!!
11th October 1916 - Eastbourne Gazette
WANTED FOR THE TANKS
Great Demand for Small Men
"On Wednesday a member of the Devonshire Park Orchestra who has been passed for garrison service abroad and will be 41 on the 8th December next, appeared before the Eastbourne Borough Tribunal. In his written application he pointed out that he was not only a question of flexibility of the fingers, but of the wrist and that a short period of military work would occasion a loss of technique which it would take a long time to regain. He also mentioned that he was just under seven stone in weight.
Mr Beattie- “There is a great demand for small men for the tanks.”
Alderman E. Duke- “Mr Beattie wants them all.”
Mr Beattie- “They are taking men under five feet for the tanks. This man would not be taken as he has been passed for garrison duty. As a musician he is of no use to the nation. As a soldier he would be of some use.”
The Tribunal granted twelve weeks exemption."
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
The Unnamed - Pictures from the Somme
A friend of mine, Roger Stoakley has just returned from visiting the Somme battlefields in France. He took some excellent, sweeping photographs of some of the cemetries.
His pictures really capture the sense of loss and they powerfully portray the feeling of vastness of the sacrifice. They are a sweeping statement to a lost generation.
Roger can be contacted at: rjstoakley@btopenworld.com
Additional Photo's on 'The Unnamed II'
Monday, September 10, 2007
The Bomb-Throwing Australians at Gallipoli.
Carrying on from Fredrick Palmer's description of the Australians, here is another another view from a differnent angle. It is an excert from "Trenching at Gallipoli, in the land of the Turks." by John Gallishaw, of the First Newfoundland Regiment.
"We were talking about Abdul Pasha's surrendering , when we dropped off to sleep. We must have been asleep about two hours when the insistent, crackling sound of rapid fire, momentarily increasing in volume, brought us to our feet. Away up on the right, where the Australians were, the sky was a red glare from the flashing of many rifles. Against this, we could see the occasional flare of different coloured rockets that gave the warships their signals for shelling. Very soon one of our officers appeared.
"Stand to arms for the Newfoundlanders," he said. "What is it?" I asked.
"The Australians are advancing," he answered. "We'll go up as reinforcements if we're needed. Tell your men to put on their ammunition belts, and have their rifles ready. They needn't put on their packs; but keep them near them so that they can slip them on if we get the order to move away."
I went about among the men of my section, passing along the word. Everybody was tingling with excitement. Nobody knew just what was about to happen; but every one thought that whatever it was it would prove interesting. For about half an hour the rapid fire kept up, then by degrees died down.
"Did you see that last rocket ?" said a man near me;
"that means they've done it. A red rocket means that the navy is to fire, a green to continue firing, and a white one means that we've won."
In a few minutes Mr. Nunns walked toward us. "You can put your equipments off, and turn in again," he said, "nothing doing to-night."
"What is all the excitement?" I asked. "Oh, it's the Anzacs again," he said; "when they heard of the advance at Loos, they went over across, and surprised the Turks. They've taken two lines of trenches. They did it without any orders — just wanted to celebrate the good news."
I was awakened the next morning by the sound of a whizz-bang flying over our dugout. Johnny Turk was sending us his best respects. I shook Art, who was sleeping heavily.
"Get up, Art," I said. I might as well have spoken to a stone wall. I tried again. Putting my mouth to his ear, I shouted, "Stand to. Art. Stand to."
Art turned over, sleeping. "I'll stand three if you like, but don't disturb me," he muttered, and relapsed into coma.
In a few minutes, two or three more shells came along. They were well over the ridge behind us, but were landing almost in the midst of another line of dugouts. I stood gazing at them for a little while., A man passed me running badly. "Come on," he gasped, "and yell for the stretcher." I followed him without further question. "It's all right," he said, slowing up just before we came to the line of dugouts that had just been shelled. "They've got him all right." We continued toward a group that was crowded about a stretcher. A man was lying on it, with his head raised on a haversack. He rolled his eyes slowly and surveyed the group. "What the hell is the matter?" he said dazedly; then felt himself over gingerly for wounds. Apparently he could find none. "What hit me ?" he asked, appealing to a grinning Red Cross man.
"Nothing," said the other, "except about a ton of earth. It's a lucky thing some one saw you. That last shell buried you alive."
The whistle of a coming shell dispersed the grinning spectators. I went back to my dugout, and found Art busily toasting some bread over the sieve that I had commandeered the day before.
"What was the excitement?" he asked.
"Charlie Renouf," I said, "was buried alive."
"Heavens," said Art, "he's the postman; we can't afford to lose him. That reminds me that I've got to write some letters."
While we were writing, the orderly sergeant, that dread of loafers, who appoints all details for fatigue work, bore down upon our dugout. "Two men from you, Corporal Gallishaw," he said, "for bomb throwers. Give me their names as soon as you can. They're for practice this afternoon."
"One here, right away," said Art, "and put Lew O'Dea down for the other."
Lew O'Dea was a character. He was in the next dug-out to me. The first day on the Peninsula, his rifle had stuck full of sand, and some one had stolen his tin canteen for cooking food. He immediately formed himself into an anti-poverty society of one thereafter, and went around like a walking arsenal. I never saw him with fewer than three rifles, usually he carried half a dozen. He always kept two or three of them spotlessly clean; so that no matter when rifle inspection came, he always had at least one to show. He had been a little late in getting his rifle clean once and was determined not to be caught any more. His equipment always contained a varied assortment of canteens, seven or eight gas masks, and his dugout was luxurious with rubber sheets and blankets. "I inherited them," he always answered, whenever anybody questioned him about them. With ammunition for his several rifles, when he started for the trenches in full marching order, he carried a load that a mule need by no means have been ashamed of.
"Do you want to go on bomb throwing detail this afternoon?" I called to O'Dea across the top of the dug-out.
"Sure," he answered; "does a swim want to duck?"
"Fine," I said; "report here at two o'clock."
At two o'clock, accompanied by an officer and a sergeant, we went down the road a little way to where some Australians were conducting a class in bomb throwing. A brown-faced chap from Sydney showed me the difference between bombs that you explode by lighting a match, and bombs that are started by pulling out a plug, and the dinky little three-second "cricket balls" that explode by pressing a spring. I asked him about the attack the night before. He told me that they had been for some time waiting for a chance to make a local advance and that would capture an important redoubt in the Turkish line. Every night at exactly nine o'clock, the Navy had thrown a searchlight on the part of the line the Anzacs wanted to capture. For ten minutes they kept up heavy firing. Then, after a ten minutes' interval of darkness and suspended firing, they began a second illumination and bombardment, commencing always at twenty minutes past nine, and ending precisely at half past. After a little while, the enemy, knowing just the exact minute the bombardment was to begin, took the first beam of the searchlight as a hint to clear out. But the night before, a crowd of eager Australians had crept softly along in the shadow made doubly dark by the glare of the searchlight, the noise of their advance covered by the sound of the bombardment. As soon as the bombardment ceased and the searchlight's beam was succeeded by darkness, they poured into the Turkish position. They had taken the astonished Turks completely by surprise.
"We didn't expect to make the attack for another week," said the Australian; "but as soon as our boys heard that we were winning in France, they thought they'd better start something. There hasn't been any excitement over our way now for a long time," he said. "I'm about fed up on this waiting around the trenches." He fingered one of the little cricket-ball bombs caressingly.
"Think of it," he said; "all you do is press that little spring, and three seconds after you're a casualty."
'"Pressing the little spring," said I, "is my idea of nothing to do, unless you're a particularly fast sprinter."
"By the Lord Harry, Newfoundland," said the Australian, with a peculiar, excited glint in his eye, "that's an inspiration."
"What's an inspiration?" I asked, in bewilderment.
The Australian stretched himself on the ground beside me, resting his chin in his cupped hands.
"When I was in Sydney," he said slowly and thoughtfully, "I did a hundred yards in ten seconds easily. Now if I can get in a traverse that's only eight or nine yards long, and press the spring of one of those little cricket balls, I ought to be able to get out on the other side of the traverse before it explodes."
Art and Lew O'Dea passed along just then and I jumped up to go with them. "Don't forget to look for me if you're over around the Fifteenth Australians," said the Australian. "Ask for White George."
"I won't forget," I said, as I hurried away to join the others. "
Friday, September 07, 2007
Messines Ridge, Belgium.
The village of Messines was taken by troops from the New Zealand Division.
The New Zealand troops had to advance up a steep hill to reach Messines, from their front lines in the vicinity of the farm buildings in the valley below.
Walking up the road that curves up the hill, you realise what a steep climb this would have been for the attackers.
Near the top of the hill is the New Zealand Memorial Park.
The entrance to the New Zealand Memorial Park is semi-circular in shape, with a low hedged area. The memorial itself is a tall obelisk, similar to other New Zealand memorials on the Western Front. The wording on the front is
'In honour of the men of the New Zealand Division. The Battle of Messines 7th to 14th of June 1917'.
The view from the Memorial looking south.
A closer view of the Memorial.
The memorial was unveiled by the Belgian King (Albert I) on the 1st of August 1924.
Looking towards the Memorial from the Pill-box.
The menacing Pill-box at the south end of the Memorial Park.
The View looking East, the British Front Line was in the far distance at the bottom of the valley.Thursday, September 06, 2007
The Australian Soldier by Fredrick Palmer
Fredrick Palmer was a correspondent sent to the front during the First World War. In his book “My Second Year of the War” he describes his impression of the Australian Soldier and General Birdwood:
“I have never been in Australia or New Zealand, but this I know that when the war is over I am going. I want to see the land that breeds such men. They are free men if ever there were such; free whether they come from town or from bush. I had heard of their commonwealth ideas, their State-owned utilities, their socialistic inclinations, which might incline you to think that they were all of the same State-cut pattern of manhood; but I had heard, too, how they had restricted immigration of Orientals and limited other immigration by method if not by law, which was suggestive of a tendency to keep the breed to itself, as I understood from my reading.
Whenever I saw an Australian I thought: "Here is a very proud, individual man," but also an Australian, particularly an Australian. Some people thought that there was a touch of insolence in his bearing when he looked you straight in the eye as much as to say: "The best thing in the world is to be an upstanding member of the human race who is ready to prove that he is as good as any other. If you don't think so, well--" There was no doubt about the Australian being brave. This was as self-evident as that the pine is straight and the beech is hard wood.
The Australians came from a great distance. This you knew without geographical reference. Far away in their island continent they have been working out their own destiny, not caring for interference from the outside. To put it in strong language, there is a touch of the "I don't care a rap for anybody who does not care a rap for me" in their extreme moments of independence. It is refreshing that a whole population may have an island continent to themselves and carry on in this fashion.
They had had an introduction to universal service which was also characteristic of their democracy and helpful in time of war. The "Anzac" had caught the sense of its idea (before other English-speaking people) not to let others do your fighting for you but all "join in the scrum." Orientals might crave the broad spaces of a new land, in which event if they ever took Australia and New Zealand they would not be bothered by many survivors of the white population, because most of the Anzacs would be dead--this being particularly the kind of people the Anzacs are as I knew them in France, which was not a poor trial ground of their quality.
When they went to Gallipoli it was said that they had no discipline; and certainly at first discipline did irritate them as a snaffle bit irritates a high-spirited horse. "Little Kitch," as the stalwart Anzacs called the New Army Englishman, thought that they broke all the military commandments of the drill-grounds in a way that would be their undoing. I rather think that it might have been the undoing of Little Kitch, with his stubborn, methodical, phlegmatic, "stick-it" courage; but after the Australians had fought the Turk a while it was evident that they knew how to fight, and their general, Sir Charles Birdwood, supplied the discipline which is necessary if fighting power is not to be wasted in misplaced emotion.
Lucky Birdwood to command the Australians and lucky Australians to have him as commander! It was he who in choosing a telegraph code word made up "Anzac" for the Australian-New Zealand corps, which at once became the collective term for the combination. What a test he put them to and they put him to! He had to prove himself to them before he could develop the Anzacs into a war unit worthy of their fighting quality. Such is democracy where man judges man by standards, set, in this case, by Australian customs.
When he understood them he knew why he was fortunate. He was one of them and at the same time a stiff disciplinarian. They objected to saluting, but he taught them to salute in a way that did not make saluting seem the whole thing--this was what they resented--but a part of the routine. It was said that he knew every man in the corps by name, which shows how stories will grow around a commander who rises at five and retires at midnight and has a dynamic ubiquity in keeping in touch with his men. Such a force included some "rough customers" who might mistake war for a brawler's opportunity; but Sir Charles had a way with them that worked out for their good and the good of the corps.
Though they were of a free type of democracy, the Australian government, either from inherent sense or as the result of distance, as critics might say, or owing to General Birdwood's gift of having his way, did not handicap the Australians as heavily as they might have been handicapped under the circumstances by officers who were skilful in politics without being skilful in war.
As publicist the Australians had Bean, a trained journalist, a red-headed blade of a man who was an officer among officers and a man among men and held the respect of all by Australian qualities. If there could be only one chronicler allowed, then Bean's choice had the applause of a corps, though Bean says that Australia is full of just as good journalists who did not have his luck. The New Zealanders had Ross to play the same part for them with equal loyalty and he was as much of a New Zealander as Bean was an Australian.
For, make no mistake, though the Australians and the New Zealanders might seem alike to the observer as they marched along a road, they are not, as you will find if you talk with them. The New Zealanders have islands of their own, not to mention that the Tasmanians have one, too.
Besides, the New Zealanders include a Maori battalion and of all aborigines of lands where the white races have settled in permanence to build new nations, the Maoris have best accustomed themselves to civilization and are the highest type--a fact which every New Zealander takes as another contributing factor to New Zealand's excellence. Quiet men the New Zealanders, bearing themselves with the pride of Guardsmen whose privates all belong to superior old families, and New Zealanders every minute of every hour of the day, though you might think that civil war was imminent if you started them on a discussion about home politics.
Give any unit of an army some particular, readily distinguishable symbol, be it only a feather in the cap or a different headgear, and that lot becomes set apart from the others in a fashion that gives them _esprit de corps_. With the Scots it is the kilt and the different plaids. All the varied uniforms of regiments of the armies of olden days had this object. Modern war requires neutral tones and its necessary machinelike homogeneity may look askance at too much rivalry among units as tending toward each one acting by itself rather than in co-operation with the rest.
All the forces at the front except the Anzacs were in khaki and wore caps when not wearing steel helmets in the trenches or on the firing-line. The Australians were in slate-colored uniform and they wore looped-up soft hats. The hats accentuated the manner, the height and the sturdiness of the men whose physique was unsurpassed at the British front, and practically all were smooth-shaven. For generations they had had adequate nutrition and they had the capacity to absorb it, which generations from the slums may lack even if the food is forthcoming.
There was no reason why every man in Australia should not have enough to eat and, whether bush or city dweller, he was fond of the open air where he might exercise the year around. He had blown his lungs; he had fed well and came of a daring pioneer stock. When an Anzac battalion under those hats went swinging along the road it seemed as if the men were taking the road along with them, such was their vigorous tread. On leave in London they were equally conspicuous. Sometimes they used a little vermilion with the generosity of men who received a dollar and a half a day as their wage. It was the first time, in many instances, that they had seen the "old town" and they had come far and to-morrow might go back to France for the last time.
My first view of them in the trenches after they came from Gallipoli was in the flat country near Ypres whose mushiness is so detested by all soldiers. They had been used to digging trenches in dry hillsides, where they might excavate caves with solid walls. Here they had to fill sandbags with mud and make breastworks, which were frequently breached by shell fire. At first, they had been poor diggers; but when democracy learns its lesson by individual experience it is incorporated in every man and no longer is a question of orders. Now they were deepening communication trenches and thickening parapet walls and were mud-plastered by their labor.
Having risen at General Birdwood's hour of five to go with him on inspection I might watch his methods, and it means something to men to have their corps commander thus early among them when a drizzly rain is softening the morass under foot. He stopped and asked the privates how they were in a friendly way and they answered with straight-away candor. Then he gave some directions about improvements with a we-are-all-working-together suggestiveness, but all the time he was the general. These privates were not without their Australian sense of humor, which is dry; and in answer to the inquiry about how he was one said:
"All right, except we'd like a little rum, sir."
In cold weather the distribution of a rum ration was at the disposition of a commander, who in most instances did not give it. This stalwart Australian evidently had not been a teetotaler.
"We'll give you some rum when you have made a trench raid and taken some prisoners," the general replied.
"It might be an incentive, sir!" said the soldier very respectfully.
"No Australian should need such an incentive!" answered the general, and passed on.
"Yes, sir!" was the answer of another soldier to the question if he had been in Gallipoli.
"Wounded?"
"Yes, sir."
"How?"
"I was examining a bomb, sir, to find out how it was made and it went off to my surprise, sir!"
There was not even a twinkle of the eye accompanying the response, yet I was not certain that this big fellow from the bush had been wounded in that way. I suspected him of a quiet joke.
"Throw them at the Germans next time," said the general.
"Yes, sir. It's safer!"
Returning after that long morning of characteristic routine, as we passed through a village where Australians were billeted one soldier failed to salute. When the general stopped him his hand shot up in approved fashion as he recognized his commander and he said contritely, with the touch of respect of a man to the leader in whom he believes:
"I did not see that it was you, sir!"
The general had on a mackintosh with the collar turned up, which concealed his rank.
"But you might see that it was an officer."
"Yes, sir."
"And you salute officers."
"Yes, sir."
Which he would hereafter now that it was General Birdwood's order, though this everlasting raising of your hand, as one Australian said, made you into a kind of human windmill when the world was so full of officers. Gradually all came to salute, and when an Australian salutes he does it in a way that is a credit to Australia.
After a period of fighting a tired division retired from the battle front and a fresh one took the place. Thus, following the custom of the circulation of troops by the armies of both sides, whether at Verdun or on the Somme, the day arrived when along the road toward the front came the Australian battalions, hardened and disciplined by trench warfare, keen-edged in spirit, and ready for the bold task which awaited them at Pozières. This time the New Zealanders were not along.”
Earlier in the book he writes about his work during the war:
“Those whose business it was to observe, the six correspondents, Robinson, Thomas, Gibbs, Philips, Russell and myself, went and came always with a sense of incapacity and sometimes with a feeling that writing was a worthless business when others were fighting. The line of
advance on the big map at our quarters extended as the brief army reports were read into the squares every morning by the key of figures and numerals with a detail that included every little trench, every copse, every landmark, and then we chose where we would go that day. At corps headquarters there were maps with still more details and officers could explain the previous day's work to us. Every wood and village, every viewpoint, we knew, and every casualty clearing station and prisoners' inclosure. At battalion camps within sight of the Ridge and within range of the guns, where their blankets helped to make shelter from the sun, you might talk with the men out of the fight and lunch and chat with the officers who awaited the word to go in again or perhaps to hear that their tour was over and they could go to rest in Ypres sector, which had become relatively quiet.”
Download the full book "My second year of the war"
“I have never been in Australia or New Zealand, but this I know that when the war is over I am going. I want to see the land that breeds such men. They are free men if ever there were such; free whether they come from town or from bush. I had heard of their commonwealth ideas, their State-owned utilities, their socialistic inclinations, which might incline you to think that they were all of the same State-cut pattern of manhood; but I had heard, too, how they had restricted immigration of Orientals and limited other immigration by method if not by law, which was suggestive of a tendency to keep the breed to itself, as I understood from my reading.
Whenever I saw an Australian I thought: "Here is a very proud, individual man," but also an Australian, particularly an Australian. Some people thought that there was a touch of insolence in his bearing when he looked you straight in the eye as much as to say: "The best thing in the world is to be an upstanding member of the human race who is ready to prove that he is as good as any other. If you don't think so, well--" There was no doubt about the Australian being brave. This was as self-evident as that the pine is straight and the beech is hard wood.
The Australians came from a great distance. This you knew without geographical reference. Far away in their island continent they have been working out their own destiny, not caring for interference from the outside. To put it in strong language, there is a touch of the "I don't care a rap for anybody who does not care a rap for me" in their extreme moments of independence. It is refreshing that a whole population may have an island continent to themselves and carry on in this fashion.
They had had an introduction to universal service which was also characteristic of their democracy and helpful in time of war. The "Anzac" had caught the sense of its idea (before other English-speaking people) not to let others do your fighting for you but all "join in the scrum." Orientals might crave the broad spaces of a new land, in which event if they ever took Australia and New Zealand they would not be bothered by many survivors of the white population, because most of the Anzacs would be dead--this being particularly the kind of people the Anzacs are as I knew them in France, which was not a poor trial ground of their quality.
When they went to Gallipoli it was said that they had no discipline; and certainly at first discipline did irritate them as a snaffle bit irritates a high-spirited horse. "Little Kitch," as the stalwart Anzacs called the New Army Englishman, thought that they broke all the military commandments of the drill-grounds in a way that would be their undoing. I rather think that it might have been the undoing of Little Kitch, with his stubborn, methodical, phlegmatic, "stick-it" courage; but after the Australians had fought the Turk a while it was evident that they knew how to fight, and their general, Sir Charles Birdwood, supplied the discipline which is necessary if fighting power is not to be wasted in misplaced emotion.
Lucky Birdwood to command the Australians and lucky Australians to have him as commander! It was he who in choosing a telegraph code word made up "Anzac" for the Australian-New Zealand corps, which at once became the collective term for the combination. What a test he put them to and they put him to! He had to prove himself to them before he could develop the Anzacs into a war unit worthy of their fighting quality. Such is democracy where man judges man by standards, set, in this case, by Australian customs.
When he understood them he knew why he was fortunate. He was one of them and at the same time a stiff disciplinarian. They objected to saluting, but he taught them to salute in a way that did not make saluting seem the whole thing--this was what they resented--but a part of the routine. It was said that he knew every man in the corps by name, which shows how stories will grow around a commander who rises at five and retires at midnight and has a dynamic ubiquity in keeping in touch with his men. Such a force included some "rough customers" who might mistake war for a brawler's opportunity; but Sir Charles had a way with them that worked out for their good and the good of the corps.
Though they were of a free type of democracy, the Australian government, either from inherent sense or as the result of distance, as critics might say, or owing to General Birdwood's gift of having his way, did not handicap the Australians as heavily as they might have been handicapped under the circumstances by officers who were skilful in politics without being skilful in war.
As publicist the Australians had Bean, a trained journalist, a red-headed blade of a man who was an officer among officers and a man among men and held the respect of all by Australian qualities. If there could be only one chronicler allowed, then Bean's choice had the applause of a corps, though Bean says that Australia is full of just as good journalists who did not have his luck. The New Zealanders had Ross to play the same part for them with equal loyalty and he was as much of a New Zealander as Bean was an Australian.
For, make no mistake, though the Australians and the New Zealanders might seem alike to the observer as they marched along a road, they are not, as you will find if you talk with them. The New Zealanders have islands of their own, not to mention that the Tasmanians have one, too.
Besides, the New Zealanders include a Maori battalion and of all aborigines of lands where the white races have settled in permanence to build new nations, the Maoris have best accustomed themselves to civilization and are the highest type--a fact which every New Zealander takes as another contributing factor to New Zealand's excellence. Quiet men the New Zealanders, bearing themselves with the pride of Guardsmen whose privates all belong to superior old families, and New Zealanders every minute of every hour of the day, though you might think that civil war was imminent if you started them on a discussion about home politics.
Give any unit of an army some particular, readily distinguishable symbol, be it only a feather in the cap or a different headgear, and that lot becomes set apart from the others in a fashion that gives them _esprit de corps_. With the Scots it is the kilt and the different plaids. All the varied uniforms of regiments of the armies of olden days had this object. Modern war requires neutral tones and its necessary machinelike homogeneity may look askance at too much rivalry among units as tending toward each one acting by itself rather than in co-operation with the rest.
All the forces at the front except the Anzacs were in khaki and wore caps when not wearing steel helmets in the trenches or on the firing-line. The Australians were in slate-colored uniform and they wore looped-up soft hats. The hats accentuated the manner, the height and the sturdiness of the men whose physique was unsurpassed at the British front, and practically all were smooth-shaven. For generations they had had adequate nutrition and they had the capacity to absorb it, which generations from the slums may lack even if the food is forthcoming.
There was no reason why every man in Australia should not have enough to eat and, whether bush or city dweller, he was fond of the open air where he might exercise the year around. He had blown his lungs; he had fed well and came of a daring pioneer stock. When an Anzac battalion under those hats went swinging along the road it seemed as if the men were taking the road along with them, such was their vigorous tread. On leave in London they were equally conspicuous. Sometimes they used a little vermilion with the generosity of men who received a dollar and a half a day as their wage. It was the first time, in many instances, that they had seen the "old town" and they had come far and to-morrow might go back to France for the last time.
My first view of them in the trenches after they came from Gallipoli was in the flat country near Ypres whose mushiness is so detested by all soldiers. They had been used to digging trenches in dry hillsides, where they might excavate caves with solid walls. Here they had to fill sandbags with mud and make breastworks, which were frequently breached by shell fire. At first, they had been poor diggers; but when democracy learns its lesson by individual experience it is incorporated in every man and no longer is a question of orders. Now they were deepening communication trenches and thickening parapet walls and were mud-plastered by their labor.
Having risen at General Birdwood's hour of five to go with him on inspection I might watch his methods, and it means something to men to have their corps commander thus early among them when a drizzly rain is softening the morass under foot. He stopped and asked the privates how they were in a friendly way and they answered with straight-away candor. Then he gave some directions about improvements with a we-are-all-working-together suggestiveness, but all the time he was the general. These privates were not without their Australian sense of humor, which is dry; and in answer to the inquiry about how he was one said:
"All right, except we'd like a little rum, sir."
In cold weather the distribution of a rum ration was at the disposition of a commander, who in most instances did not give it. This stalwart Australian evidently had not been a teetotaler.
"We'll give you some rum when you have made a trench raid and taken some prisoners," the general replied.
"It might be an incentive, sir!" said the soldier very respectfully.
"No Australian should need such an incentive!" answered the general, and passed on.
"Yes, sir!" was the answer of another soldier to the question if he had been in Gallipoli.
"Wounded?"
"Yes, sir."
"How?"
"I was examining a bomb, sir, to find out how it was made and it went off to my surprise, sir!"
There was not even a twinkle of the eye accompanying the response, yet I was not certain that this big fellow from the bush had been wounded in that way. I suspected him of a quiet joke.
"Throw them at the Germans next time," said the general.
"Yes, sir. It's safer!"
Returning after that long morning of characteristic routine, as we passed through a village where Australians were billeted one soldier failed to salute. When the general stopped him his hand shot up in approved fashion as he recognized his commander and he said contritely, with the touch of respect of a man to the leader in whom he believes:
"I did not see that it was you, sir!"
The general had on a mackintosh with the collar turned up, which concealed his rank.
"But you might see that it was an officer."
"Yes, sir."
"And you salute officers."
"Yes, sir."
Which he would hereafter now that it was General Birdwood's order, though this everlasting raising of your hand, as one Australian said, made you into a kind of human windmill when the world was so full of officers. Gradually all came to salute, and when an Australian salutes he does it in a way that is a credit to Australia.
After a period of fighting a tired division retired from the battle front and a fresh one took the place. Thus, following the custom of the circulation of troops by the armies of both sides, whether at Verdun or on the Somme, the day arrived when along the road toward the front came the Australian battalions, hardened and disciplined by trench warfare, keen-edged in spirit, and ready for the bold task which awaited them at Pozières. This time the New Zealanders were not along.”
Earlier in the book he writes about his work during the war:
“Those whose business it was to observe, the six correspondents, Robinson, Thomas, Gibbs, Philips, Russell and myself, went and came always with a sense of incapacity and sometimes with a feeling that writing was a worthless business when others were fighting. The line of
advance on the big map at our quarters extended as the brief army reports were read into the squares every morning by the key of figures and numerals with a detail that included every little trench, every copse, every landmark, and then we chose where we would go that day. At corps headquarters there were maps with still more details and officers could explain the previous day's work to us. Every wood and village, every viewpoint, we knew, and every casualty clearing station and prisoners' inclosure. At battalion camps within sight of the Ridge and within range of the guns, where their blankets helped to make shelter from the sun, you might talk with the men out of the fight and lunch and chat with the officers who awaited the word to go in again or perhaps to hear that their tour was over and they could go to rest in Ypres sector, which had become relatively quiet.”
Download the full book "My second year of the war"
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Private Charles Frank Church, 8th Battalion A.I.F.
Private Charles Frank Church, 4752, 8th Battalion A.I.F.
Born in Dorking, Surrey, England.
Son of John Edmond Church and Dora Annie Edith Church, of 68, McLaren St., Adelaide, South Australia.
Enlisted at Adelaide, South Australia on 16th November 1915.
Age given at enlistment 18 and 2 Months. (But was 15 or 16)
He was 5’6” tall, weighed 9st 6lbs had grey eyes and dark hair.
He was a Labourer before he joined up.
Name of next of kin on enlistment papers was Uncle James Edward Cole, Dorking, Surrey. (This was probably done to hide his real age).
22nd November 1915 at 2nd Depot Ballarat.
3rd December 1915 To C Company, 14th Depot Broadmeadows.
13th January 1916 Transferred as a Reinforcement.
25th May 1916 Embarked on the “Tunisian” from Aleaxandria
4th June 1916 Arried in Marseilles
7th June 1916 arrived at Etaples
29th July 1916 Joined the 8th Battalion , 15th Reinforcements.
18th August 1916, Killed in Action by machine gun bullet aged 16.
He is buried in Pozieres British Cemetery, Ovillers-La-Boisselle.
The Red Cross report of his death:
“I knew Church well: he used to be in my tent. A man called Johnson told me that he saw Church’s dead body lying in No Man’s Land in the attack later that day.” Pte J.Hawkins 4796 1.A.D.B.D
“On August 18th at 9.pm we made a raid on the German trenches. Church, Johnson and myself were in a shell hole together at one time during the raid. When we got back Johnson told me that Church was killed by a machine gun bullet before he got to the German trench.” Pte. J.Hawkins 4796, 8th Battalion.
“He was killed on 18th Aug at Mouquet Farm, just after we left Gordon Dump to go to the trenches. He belonged to my section (number etc. checked from my section roll). Lt Mair C.Co was in charge of the party Church was with. I heard about the casualty about a fortnight later. The facts were given to me by Pte S,H. Diamond, 5077, C. Co. He was an eyewitness.” Pte C.M.Owen 4282, C.Co 1A.D.B.D.
“I was Company clerk in C Co. Church was also in C.Co. A relative of his came to the Battalion to make enquires about him 5 or 6 weeks from when we were in billets at Buire. I don’t know his name. I introduced him to two men, George Boden and J. Lawton who told him they had seen Church killed right on the parapet as they “hopped over” the second time at Pozieres on 18th August 1916.” L/Cpl A. Morris 5163, C.Co. No 5 General Hospital Rouen.
“About Pte. C. Church. He was about 5’6” fairly stout and had a fair complexion. He was about 18 years of age and was a happy young chap. He was with the Battalion 3 or 4 weeks up to the 18.8.16.” Letter from Pte.G.S.Boden. France 14.6.17.
“He was in C Company and was killed straight out at night in our trenches at Pozieres by machine gun bullets. He was buried in a spot just behind our lines. I do not think his grave was marked.” Pte F.H Kells 4245, C.Co. 8TH Battalion.
“Pte F. Keys of C. Coy. 8th A.I.F told me just after the 18th Aug. /16 “Stunt” at Pozieres that Church had been killed during the attack. I last saw Keys on the 14th April/17. I knew Church personally and was enquiring about him when Keys gave me this information.” Pte. O. Laughlin. 5429. B.coy.
A letter from John Thomson, Agent Mutual Life Assurance Company furnished these details.
“Corporal A. Lawton 803, C Company 8 Batt saw Church lying alongside platoon Sergeant dead. Killed by concussion – 18th August 1916.
Pte. C.R.Bowen, No 5373, B Co. 8th Batt. 2nd Brigade saw church go over the parapet, but did not see him come back.
Pte. A.R Muirhead, Machine Gun Company, 8th Batt. Visited camp where Sergeant Neck took Muirhead to Church’s mates who told him Church was killed on the parapet.
The last named (Muirhead) used to write often to Church’s people, but has lately ceased to do so, and probably has himself made the supreme sacrifice.”
Source :National Archives of Australia
Born in Dorking, Surrey, England.
Son of John Edmond Church and Dora Annie Edith Church, of 68, McLaren St., Adelaide, South Australia.
Enlisted at Adelaide, South Australia on 16th November 1915.
Age given at enlistment 18 and 2 Months. (But was 15 or 16)
He was 5’6” tall, weighed 9st 6lbs had grey eyes and dark hair.
He was a Labourer before he joined up.
Name of next of kin on enlistment papers was Uncle James Edward Cole, Dorking, Surrey. (This was probably done to hide his real age).
22nd November 1915 at 2nd Depot Ballarat.
3rd December 1915 To C Company, 14th Depot Broadmeadows.
13th January 1916 Transferred as a Reinforcement.
25th May 1916 Embarked on the “Tunisian” from Aleaxandria
4th June 1916 Arried in Marseilles
7th June 1916 arrived at Etaples
29th July 1916 Joined the 8th Battalion , 15th Reinforcements.
18th August 1916, Killed in Action by machine gun bullet aged 16.
He is buried in Pozieres British Cemetery, Ovillers-La-Boisselle.
The Red Cross report of his death:
“I knew Church well: he used to be in my tent. A man called Johnson told me that he saw Church’s dead body lying in No Man’s Land in the attack later that day.” Pte J.Hawkins 4796 1.A.D.B.D
“On August 18th at 9.pm we made a raid on the German trenches. Church, Johnson and myself were in a shell hole together at one time during the raid. When we got back Johnson told me that Church was killed by a machine gun bullet before he got to the German trench.” Pte. J.Hawkins 4796, 8th Battalion.
“He was killed on 18th Aug at Mouquet Farm, just after we left Gordon Dump to go to the trenches. He belonged to my section (number etc. checked from my section roll). Lt Mair C.Co was in charge of the party Church was with. I heard about the casualty about a fortnight later. The facts were given to me by Pte S,H. Diamond, 5077, C. Co. He was an eyewitness.” Pte C.M.Owen 4282, C.Co 1A.D.B.D.
“I was Company clerk in C Co. Church was also in C.Co. A relative of his came to the Battalion to make enquires about him 5 or 6 weeks from when we were in billets at Buire. I don’t know his name. I introduced him to two men, George Boden and J. Lawton who told him they had seen Church killed right on the parapet as they “hopped over” the second time at Pozieres on 18th August 1916.” L/Cpl A. Morris 5163, C.Co. No 5 General Hospital Rouen.
“About Pte. C. Church. He was about 5’6” fairly stout and had a fair complexion. He was about 18 years of age and was a happy young chap. He was with the Battalion 3 or 4 weeks up to the 18.8.16.” Letter from Pte.G.S.Boden. France 14.6.17.
“He was in C Company and was killed straight out at night in our trenches at Pozieres by machine gun bullets. He was buried in a spot just behind our lines. I do not think his grave was marked.” Pte F.H Kells 4245, C.Co. 8TH Battalion.
“Pte F. Keys of C. Coy. 8th A.I.F told me just after the 18th Aug. /16 “Stunt” at Pozieres that Church had been killed during the attack. I last saw Keys on the 14th April/17. I knew Church personally and was enquiring about him when Keys gave me this information.” Pte. O. Laughlin. 5429. B.coy.
A letter from John Thomson, Agent Mutual Life Assurance Company furnished these details.
“Corporal A. Lawton 803, C Company 8 Batt saw Church lying alongside platoon Sergeant dead. Killed by concussion – 18th August 1916.
Pte. C.R.Bowen, No 5373, B Co. 8th Batt. 2nd Brigade saw church go over the parapet, but did not see him come back.
Pte. A.R Muirhead, Machine Gun Company, 8th Batt. Visited camp where Sergeant Neck took Muirhead to Church’s mates who told him Church was killed on the parapet.
The last named (Muirhead) used to write often to Church’s people, but has lately ceased to do so, and probably has himself made the supreme sacrifice.”
Source :National Archives of Australia
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Letter from a father to a son
Whilst looking for information on Private Sidney Long, I discovered this letter held at the Australian National Archives which was written to Private Roy Long (Sidney’s brother) by their father.
The letter is dated 14th January 1915, Roy Long joined up on 24th March 1915. He was killed in action on 29th July 1916 whilst serving with the 28th Battalion aged 20.
It is a remarkable piece of history:
Dear Roy
Just a line to you to let you know how I and mother are getting on, have you enlisted if not you had better do so at once you are doing your duty and fighting for your country. So Roy do what I tell you join the Forces at once it will make a man of you and me and mum will be much pleased of you. Things are looking very great over here, Fred is going to enlist very shortly and so would I if I was a bit younger, if you can’t pass let me know. Make up your mind and be a man and we will think a lot of you. We aint going to stop you from going to the front.
Best love from your loving father and mother.
Source: National Archives of Australia
The letter is dated 14th January 1915, Roy Long joined up on 24th March 1915. He was killed in action on 29th July 1916 whilst serving with the 28th Battalion aged 20.
It is a remarkable piece of history:
Dear Roy
Just a line to you to let you know how I and mother are getting on, have you enlisted if not you had better do so at once you are doing your duty and fighting for your country. So Roy do what I tell you join the Forces at once it will make a man of you and me and mum will be much pleased of you. Things are looking very great over here, Fred is going to enlist very shortly and so would I if I was a bit younger, if you can’t pass let me know. Make up your mind and be a man and we will think a lot of you. We aint going to stop you from going to the front.
Best love from your loving father and mother.
National Archives of Australia - Digital Image 8204649
Source: National Archives of Australia
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Private Sidney Victor Long, 8th Battalion AIF.
Private Sidney Victor Long, 5715, 8th Battalion AIF
(Private Long's story is truly amazing. He first enlisted in 1914 with the 11th Battalion and was sent to Gallipoli where he was invalided out and returned to Australia with a Gun Shot wound to the neck. 10 Months later he re-enlists with the 8th Battalion and is sent to France, only to be killed at the Battle of Menin Road on 25th October 1917).
Born in Long Gully Victoria. Son of the late James William Long of Long Gully, Victoria, Australia.
He attended the Camp School, Bendigo.
He was employed as a Miner.
Height 5’ 7” Weighed 11 stone 10 lbs, Brown eyes and Brown Hair and he spoke with a slight stutter.
His younger brother Roy Neville Long was K.I.A on 29th July 1916 whilst serving with the 28th Battalion (no. 893) aged 20.
Prior to the war he served 3 years in the 5th Victorian Infantry.
He first enlisted at Blackbay, Western Australia on 3rd November 1914, service no.1580 aged 29.
7th May 1915 3rd Reinforcements of the 11th Battalion.
10th June 1915 Admitted to Hospital with Septic wound to hand.
12th June 1915 Discharged and rejoined 11th Battalion.
6th August 1915 Admitted to Hospital from 2nd Field Ambulance with a Gun Shot Wound in the Neck from at Charge. Subsequently transferred to the C.C.S.
8th August 1915 embarked on Hospital ship “Delta” to Alexandria.
12th August 1915 Admitted to no. 1 Auxiliary Hospital at Heliopolis.
16th September 1915 Invalided to Australia.
17th September embarked on the “Beltana” for the purpose of returning to Australia for Discharge.
17th October 1915 Disembarked at Freemantle.
10th November 1915 He was medically examined where the finding said that he had had a bullet wound to the neck and his neck was stiff and inclined to one side and held forward.
15th November 1915 Discharged from 8 A.G.H as permanently unfit, incapacity of one quarter.
He re-enlisted in 4th August 1916 at Bendigo, Victoria.
3rd July 1916 embarked on the “Ayrshire”.
2nd September 1916 arrived in Plymouth, England and proceeded to the 2nd Training Battalion at Perham Downs.
15th September 1915 sent overseas to reinforce 8th Battalion
17th September 1916 arrived at Etaples.
18th September 1916 appointed Lance corporal.
30th September 1916 reverted back to Private.
2nd October 1916 Joined 8th Battalion.
13th November 1916 sent to Hospital
14th November 1916 rejoined Battalion.
21st December 1916 Wounded in Action, Gun Shot Wound in Right Arm and admitted to C.C.S.
22nd December 1916 Admitted to Hospital at Rouen with G.S.W and Trench Feet.
23rd December 1916 Transferred to England.
24th December 1916 admitted to Cambridge Hospital, Aldershot, England.
5th February 1917 He was discharged from Hospital
22nd February 1917 Marched into Perham Downs Depot joined 1st Com Depot.
15th March 1917 Transferred to Wareham and the 4th Com Depot.
19th March 1917 Back to Perham Downs with the 4th Com Depot.
23rd March 1917 Transferred to the 65th Battalion from the 8th.
19th September 1917 Transferred back to the 8th.
14th October 1917 proceeded oversees to join the 8th.
18th October 1917 joined 8th Battalion in France.
25th October 1917 he was Killed in Action aged 32.
He is buried in Tyne Cot Cemetery Passchendaele .
Source: National Archives of Australia
(Private Long's story is truly amazing. He first enlisted in 1914 with the 11th Battalion and was sent to Gallipoli where he was invalided out and returned to Australia with a Gun Shot wound to the neck. 10 Months later he re-enlists with the 8th Battalion and is sent to France, only to be killed at the Battle of Menin Road on 25th October 1917).
Born in Long Gully Victoria. Son of the late James William Long of Long Gully, Victoria, Australia.
He attended the Camp School, Bendigo.
He was employed as a Miner.
Height 5’ 7” Weighed 11 stone 10 lbs, Brown eyes and Brown Hair and he spoke with a slight stutter.
His younger brother Roy Neville Long was K.I.A on 29th July 1916 whilst serving with the 28th Battalion (no. 893) aged 20.
Prior to the war he served 3 years in the 5th Victorian Infantry.
He first enlisted at Blackbay, Western Australia on 3rd November 1914, service no.1580 aged 29.
7th May 1915 3rd Reinforcements of the 11th Battalion.
10th June 1915 Admitted to Hospital with Septic wound to hand.
12th June 1915 Discharged and rejoined 11th Battalion.
6th August 1915 Admitted to Hospital from 2nd Field Ambulance with a Gun Shot Wound in the Neck from at Charge. Subsequently transferred to the C.C.S.
8th August 1915 embarked on Hospital ship “Delta” to Alexandria.
12th August 1915 Admitted to no. 1 Auxiliary Hospital at Heliopolis.
16th September 1915 Invalided to Australia.
17th September embarked on the “Beltana” for the purpose of returning to Australia for Discharge.
17th October 1915 Disembarked at Freemantle.
10th November 1915 He was medically examined where the finding said that he had had a bullet wound to the neck and his neck was stiff and inclined to one side and held forward.
15th November 1915 Discharged from 8 A.G.H as permanently unfit, incapacity of one quarter.
He re-enlisted in 4th August 1916 at Bendigo, Victoria.
3rd July 1916 embarked on the “Ayrshire”.
2nd September 1916 arrived in Plymouth, England and proceeded to the 2nd Training Battalion at Perham Downs.
15th September 1915 sent overseas to reinforce 8th Battalion
17th September 1916 arrived at Etaples.
18th September 1916 appointed Lance corporal.
30th September 1916 reverted back to Private.
2nd October 1916 Joined 8th Battalion.
13th November 1916 sent to Hospital
14th November 1916 rejoined Battalion.
21st December 1916 Wounded in Action, Gun Shot Wound in Right Arm and admitted to C.C.S.
22nd December 1916 Admitted to Hospital at Rouen with G.S.W and Trench Feet.
23rd December 1916 Transferred to England.
24th December 1916 admitted to Cambridge Hospital, Aldershot, England.
5th February 1917 He was discharged from Hospital
22nd February 1917 Marched into Perham Downs Depot joined 1st Com Depot.
15th March 1917 Transferred to Wareham and the 4th Com Depot.
19th March 1917 Back to Perham Downs with the 4th Com Depot.
23rd March 1917 Transferred to the 65th Battalion from the 8th.
19th September 1917 Transferred back to the 8th.
14th October 1917 proceeded oversees to join the 8th.
18th October 1917 joined 8th Battalion in France.
25th October 1917 he was Killed in Action aged 32.
He is buried in Tyne Cot Cemetery Passchendaele .
Source: National Archives of Australia
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Private Harry Steane, 8th Battalion AIF
Private Harry (Herbert Henry)Steane,1274, 8th Battalion AIF
He was born in Warrington, England. The son of Sarah Ann Coggins (formerly Steane), of Fairbarn Rd., Stannington, Sheffield, Yorks, England, and the late Charles Steane.
Height 5’ 10”, weighed 10 stone 4 lbs, Brown eyes, Black Hair and a dark complexion.
He was employed as an Orchardist.
He enlisted on 5th October 1914 at Horsham, Victoria.
5th Januray 1915 posted with 2nd Reinforcements of the 8th Battalion.
5th April 1915 Arrived in Alexandria from the “Clan McGillivary”
17th May 1915 He was wounded by a Gun Shot Wound in the left Shoulder and Buttock.
24th May 1915 he was admitted to the Military Hospital in Valletta, Malta.
20th June 1915 He embarked in the “Euripides’ for England.
27th June 1915 Admitted to the Royal Victoria Hospital, in Netley England.
22nd Feb 1916 He rejoined the Draft and left Weymouth for Egypt om the “Kingstonian”.
5th March 1916 He arrived in Alexandria .
11th March 1916 He rejoined the 8th Battalion.
26th March 1916 left Alexandria on the “Megantic”.
31st March 1916 Disembarked at Marseilles
29th June 1916 Died of wounds received in Action, aged 21.
He was born in Warrington, England. The son of Sarah Ann Coggins (formerly Steane), of Fairbarn Rd., Stannington, Sheffield, Yorks, England, and the late Charles Steane.
Height 5’ 10”, weighed 10 stone 4 lbs, Brown eyes, Black Hair and a dark complexion.
He was employed as an Orchardist.
He enlisted on 5th October 1914 at Horsham, Victoria.
5th Januray 1915 posted with 2nd Reinforcements of the 8th Battalion.
5th April 1915 Arrived in Alexandria from the “Clan McGillivary”
17th May 1915 He was wounded by a Gun Shot Wound in the left Shoulder and Buttock.
24th May 1915 he was admitted to the Military Hospital in Valletta, Malta.
20th June 1915 He embarked in the “Euripides’ for England.
27th June 1915 Admitted to the Royal Victoria Hospital, in Netley England.
22nd Feb 1916 He rejoined the Draft and left Weymouth for Egypt om the “Kingstonian”.
5th March 1916 He arrived in Alexandria .
11th March 1916 He rejoined the 8th Battalion.
26th March 1916 left Alexandria on the “Megantic”.
31st March 1916 Disembarked at Marseilles
29th June 1916 Died of wounds received in Action, aged 21.
In his book “Cobbers in Khaki” Ron Austin gives this account of the night Steane died:
“On 24th June the 8th Battalion relieved the 12th Battalion Royal Fusiliers in the Messines Sector…..The poisition occupied was overlooked by the enemy who occupied the high ground around Messines. This meant any movement or trench work was restricted to the hours of darkness….The worst shelling being by minewerfers on the night of 29th June, which resulted in 5 deaths and 24 men wounded. The wind had changed to the right direction the following night and the allied gas attack on the enemy lines provoked another deadly artillery response by the Germans. One of the Australian casualties was Private Herbert Steane, a 21 year old from Horsham.
“On 24th June the 8th Battalion relieved the 12th Battalion Royal Fusiliers in the Messines Sector…..The poisition occupied was overlooked by the enemy who occupied the high ground around Messines. This meant any movement or trench work was restricted to the hours of darkness….The worst shelling being by minewerfers on the night of 29th June, which resulted in 5 deaths and 24 men wounded. The wind had changed to the right direction the following night and the allied gas attack on the enemy lines provoked another deadly artillery response by the Germans. One of the Australian casualties was Private Herbert Steane, a 21 year old from Horsham.
After his death, his mother wrote: “But the best of all in my idea is he volunteered for his country at once and was in the first landing on Gallipoli and I think that is a very great honour.””
He is buried in Berks Cemetery Extension, Ploegsteert, Belgium.
Harry Steane is remembered on the Stannington Sheffield War Memorial.
For more information you can go to the Stannington Sheffield War Memorial Website.
Source: National Archives of Australia
Friday, August 24, 2007
Nelson Carter's House gets a Blue Plaque.
A blue plaque has been unveiled to commemorate Eastbourne war hero
The Blue Plaque
33 Greys Road
The blue and white sign fixed above the door of the house where the VC recipient lived, at 33 Greys Road, Old Town, Eastbourne. Nelson Victor Carter was born in Eastbourne on the April 9, 1887.
He then went on to work, following a serious operation in 1912, as a commissionaire at the Old Town Cinema in the High Street, Eastbourne
Greys Road looking towards the Park and Old Town (33 is on the near left hand side).
He was survived by a wife and child who still lived at the Greys Road address when Mrs Catherine Carter received the Victoria Cross from the King on her husband's behalf, in May 1917.
Nelson Carter’s VC is now on display at the Redoubt Fortress on Eastbourne’s seafront.
Nelson Carter’s VC is now on display at the Redoubt Fortress on Eastbourne’s seafront.
For Nelson Carter's story click here.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Selsey War Memorial, Sussex.
Whilst on hoilday at Selsey in West Sussex i visited the beautiful church of St Peters and the War Memorial.
St Peters Church, Selsey.
The offical guide to St. Peters Church contains this information about the War Memorial.
"The War Memorial at the entrance to the churchyard erected in 1920, is of outstanding interest. It is designed in the form of the ancient Palm Cross which stood outside the church from the time of St. Wilfred until the Reformation. Five fragments of ancient Anglo-Saxon carved stone, believed to have some from the shaft of the original cross, are let into a square block from which its replica rises. Three of theses were removed from the church of the rebuilt church, and two, carved with Saxon “basket and scroll” work, were rediscovered by Mr. Heron-Allen in the wall of a summer-house at Grange Farm. The carving is identical with that on a similar cross erected by St. Wilfred at Bewcastle, Cumberland in AD 670.
Miss Clayton was responsible for the building of the stone wall which now separates the churchyard from the street. "
The memorial bears the name of 57 men of Selsey who gave there lives for their country during the Great War.
If you are interested about the history and service of any of the men recorded
on the Memorial visit http://www.roll-of-honour.com/ or just click here.
This an excellent site and a great resource.
The memorial contains the name of one former resident who fought with the Australian Imperial Force, Private Walter James Homer, 106, 3rd Pioneer Battalion, A.I.F.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Le Trou Aid Post Cemetery
On a visit to Fromelles and VC corner, i came upon this cemetery. It is probably the most beautiful and peaceful corner of the Western Front i have visited.
It can be found by following the road north-west from VC Corner Cemetery and taking the D175 turn to the right shortly after the road crosses a stream - Layes Brook, which was a feature of the 1916 battlefield near Fromelles, and also important earlier in the War and further south near Neuve Chapelle.
It can be found by following the road north-west from VC Corner Cemetery and taking the D175 turn to the right shortly after the road crosses a stream - Layes Brook, which was a feature of the 1916 battlefield near Fromelles, and also important earlier in the War and further south near Neuve Chapelle.
It is reached by a path that crosses a moat and one enters the cemetery through a small entrance house. The moat runs all around the cemetery, and a bench at the rear left is a good spot to sit and enjoy the tranquility here. It is a wonderful place to stop and contemplate life. Ducks live in the moat and can be seen wandering among the graves here.
Started very early in the War, in October 1914, this cemetery was used until July 1915, and at the time of the Armistice contained just 123 burials. After the Armistice more burials were brought here, from other small cemeteries and the battlefields nearby, including Aubers Ridge, Loos and also Fromelles.
These later graves more than doubled the total number of burials here; there are now 356 burials here, with 207 of these unknown. There are 56 Australian graves here, but only 4 of them are named.
Many of the graves of unknown soldiers from the Great War in war cemeteries simply state "A Soldier of the Great War: Known Unto God". Occasionally there was sufficient information to identify the unit the soldier had served with, in which case this was included on his headstone, or else his rank or just the fact he was an officer.
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