ANZAC Sons

by Allison Marlow Paterson

  No-one could have predicted what 1914 would bring. It was certainly not the life that Charles and Sarah had envisaged as they toiled to deliver their sons a legacy greater than that which Charles had been destined to inherit in the depressive class structure of Victorian England. The ensuing years plunged the family into the darkness of despair which cast its shadow over millions of families across the world. When the darkness lifted, the grief remained, a generational legacy that could never be erased. It was left to the survivors to rebuild the dream.

  Just a few kilometres up the railway line from Mologa towards the little town of Mitiamo was yet another family farm. This was the small holding where my father spent his childhood. This property was owned by my grandfather who had purchased the land in the early 1920s and began to build a home for his new wife. He toiled laboriously, fashioning handmade mud bricks which were to form the walls that would enclose his family in safety and comfort. Above the front door, written in coloured glass, was the name given to his labour of love: ‘Passchendaele’. As a young child, I didn’t look up. I didn’t notice. I didn’t ask why. Forty years later, I wish I had. Such is the regret that comes with the hindsight of decades.

  My father took over the running of the original Marlow property from his Uncle Jim in 1971. Dad later bought the property for cropping, while continuing to produce sheep and cattle some 30 kilometres away, west of Pyramid Hill, at my mother’s family farm, the property which was our home.

  My great-uncle Jim packed his bags and shut the door on the family home that his younger brother Charlie had helped his parents to build. In doing so he left behind more than memories. Already in a state of disrepair, the house was frozen in a moment in time, a poignant reminder of a period when small rural townships thrived, community spirit abounded and allegiance to the mother country was unreserved and unquestioned. Furniture, clothing, crockery and ornaments, even the food in the pantry — all were abandoned.

  It is at this time that my memories of the home begin; they are few, but those I have are clear. Ink pens and bottles, a bullet-shaped letter opener, writing paper and glasses adorned the dining table; mirrored wardrobes with beady-eyed fox furs hanging lifeless, their gaze accusingly following any intruders; iron beds with grey-striped mattresses, torn by the family of possums that had made the old house their home and covered with the droppings of swallows that flitted about through broken windows. Old trunks and cupboards crammed with books, photos, cards and letters — hundreds of them. ‘Most from your Grandpa and his brothers,’ my father told us, ‘from the war.’ So many yellowed, torn envelopes, kept for so long. It meant little at the time.

  My most vivid recollection is of rooms which I eventually refused to enter. Like most young children my imagination knew no bounds. I was convinced there were ghosts. There was a sense of emptiness and sadness that engulfed this old home, the warmth of its early years was long gone, replaced by the chill of lonely abandonment and the heaviness of saddened souls. Looking back, I wonder whether perhaps there was more to my imagination than I realised.

  It is within the walls of this home that this story begins. Over 500 letters and postcards along with mementos and photos of the Great War were uncovered in an old wardrobe, cupboards and trunks that Jim had left behind. These precious treasures were once close to being destroyed. Opportunistic thieves, scavenging antique furniture from abandoned homes across central Victoria, were remarkably thwarted by a matter of minutes in their attempt to burn the timber home to cover all trace of their activities. My father arrived late one afternoon to the lingering smell of cigarette smoke and old newspapers piled high in the centre of the living room clearly ready to ignite. The thieves escaped. Was this the hand of fate at play or the intervention of the ghosts of a young girl’s imagination?

  These precious memoirs are now safely stored, the catalyst of a lifelong dream to honour forebears who today can tell their story in their own words. This is the story of a family with six sons who survived the rigours of childhood illnesses at a time of high juvenile mortality and the dangers of life on the farm when accidents were commonplace. This was a family in which five sons took up arms and ventured willingly into the horrific conflagration that we now know as the Great War of 1914–1918.

  James (Jim) William Marlow, born 30 September 1889. The eldest son, he attempted to enlist but was rejected.

  Charles (Charlie) Edward Marlow, born 29 June 1891, was the fourth to enlist after twice being rejected. He joined the 38th Battalion.

  George (Geordie or Ten) Tennyson Marlow, born 8 October 1892, was the first to enlist. He joined the 7th Battalion before later transferring to the 2nd Light Trench Mortar Battery.

  Allan (later Allen) Sharp Marlow, born 10 December 1895, was Percy’s twin brother. They signed up together, joining the 38th Battalion.

  Percy Place Marlow, born 10 December 1895, was Allan’s twin brother. They had consecutive regimental numbers, 119 and 120, and joined the 38th Battalion.

  Albert Wilfred Marlow, born 25 November 1897, was the youngest and last son to enlist, his earlier attempts having been rejected. His parents eventually signed the form allowing him to enlist. He also joined the 38th Battalion.

  2011

  In 1924 Jim took the long sea voyage to Europe to walk in the footsteps of his five brothers who had gone to war. Eighty-seven years later, in 2011, I embarked on the same journey to France and Belgium with my father and my husband. It was a pilgrimage which, at times, proved overwhelming. The idyllic and peaceful fields of today belie their former existence as the battlefields on which thousands and thousands of men met their deaths. The relics of war abound, many stacked in the yards of the local farmers: shell casings, wire and chunks of broken metal. There are the hundreds of graveyards that scar the verdant fields. There are imposing memorials with thousands of names of the dead and missing, lost to the fields of Flanders and the hell of the Somme valley.

  We came to find the graves of my great-uncles and tread the places where they gallantly gave their lives in the shocking carnage of 1914–1918.

  This is their story …

  PART ONE

  1914 TO 1915

  ONE

  TAKE UP OUR QUARREL

  WITH THE FOE …

  AUSTRALIA

  It was not unexpected. While most rural Australian families waited for the newspaper or their local grocer to confirm the latest news, the British declaration of war on Germany came as no great surprise. The immediate chain of events that catapulted Europe into what would be a devastating conflict had been initiated by a Serbian nationalist’s assassination of the heir to the Austrian throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, and his wife on 28 June 1914. Initially, many Australians did not recognise the significance of the event; however as further reports filtered through over the following days, their interest was kindled and talk began. Within a few short weeks a war like no other had erupted.

  Austria declared war on Serbia on 28 July. The dominoes fell. Within a week, all the major European powers except Italy were at war. Germany, under the leadership of Kaiser Wilhelm II, threw the full weight of its support behind Austria, as would the ailing, corrupt, financially bereft Ottoman Empire (modern-day Turkey) once German diplomacy reaped its rewards. Russia, however, keen to maintain an interest in the Balkans, mobilised its forces in support of Serbia.

  On 1 August Germany declared war on Russia and, two days later, delivered the same declaration to France. On 4 August German troops invaded neutral Belgium en route to France. The Triple Entente, an alliance of mutual support between Britain, France and Russia, was immediately invoked and Britain, in accordance with her alliance obligations, declared war on Germany.

  Australia, while recently independent, remained a loyal member of the Commonwealth. In 1914 Australia boasted a tiny population of less than five million consisting largely of British immigrants or their descendants, most with strong ties of allegiance to the mother country. Australia was also acutely aware of the close proximity of the
colony of German New Guinea and the nearby islands of the Bismarck Archipelago to its northern shores. The German presence in the Pacific posed a threat to the young nation.

  Australian men, eager for adventure, enticed by the lure of income in time of drought and inspired by the fervent patriotism of the era, rushed from the remotest corners of the young Australian nation, flocking to major enlistment centres in large numbers. Many were devastated when rejected — not tall enough, not broad enough, bad teeth, poor eyes, too old, or not old enough. Some persevered and travelled to other centres where the recruitment and medical officers were not quite as particular. Nonetheless, the volunteer Australian soldiers of the first contingent to sail in support of the Empire were the fittest and strongest young men the tiny population could boast. Labour Prime Minister Andrew Fisher famously declared that Australia would commit herself ‘to the last man and the last shilling’1. In hindsight, Fisher’s words were a chilling prophecy of the appalling attrition of young men that was soon to unfold.

  For the Marlow brothers, the declaration of war brought some dilemmas. Soldiers were required to stand at least five feet six inches tall, boast a chest of 34 inches and be aged between 19 and 38. Percy and Jim knew they would not meet the initial physical requirements, both a good two inches shorter than required. Charlie and George reached the requisite height, but had obligations to the family farm or to assist other farmers in the local area. It was approaching harvest time — the busiest time of the year for the farming community. Crops stunted by drought still required harvesting. Percy’s twin brother Allan was working at McKay’s store at Pyramid Hill, a job he valued and which paid well. Both Percy and Allan were not yet 21, the required age for enlistment without parental consent. Albert was not quite 16 and fully aware that his parents would not consent to his enlistment. With talk that the war would be over by Christmas, they waited with thinly disguised impatience.

  THEATRES OF WAR

  THE WESTERN FRONT 1914

  Across Europe, the chill of war descended quickly. German forces immediately marched their way through Belgium following plans carefully prepared years before. The Schlieffen Plan had been devised in 1905 and was ready to be enacted in the event of simultaneous declarations of war against France and Russia. The plan involved a lightning-fast advance of German troops through neutral Belgium followed by rapid victory over French forces. At its core were the premises that Belgium would not resist invasion, that Britain would not declare war in support of Belgium, and that France would fall within the estimated six weeks it would take Russia to mobilise its forces to assist the French. With France under German rule, the Kaiser’s army could then move swiftly to defeat the Russian forces in the east.

  But Germany had seriously underestimated its neighbours. A stubborn Belgium stoically resisted the invading army while British troops were swiftly deployed across the English Channel. French troops, assisted by the British, made a stand on the Marne River, fighting to save Paris from the German menace. By the end of the bloody Battle of the Marne on 12 September 1914, the attacking German forces had been driven back to the northern reaches of France. There the race to gain control of the crucial ports of the English Channel continued until November 1914 when the First Battle of Ypres reached its agonising conclusion in the teeth of the European winter. Despite enormous casualties, the Allies had prevented German forces taking the vital French ports. North of Ypres, the Belgians opened a lock to create a flooded, stagnant no man’s land that blocked the German invaders’ access to the critical coastal region. The mobile war had ended, the troops dug into a complex maze of fortified trenches which cut its way for over 700 kilometres from Nieuport on the Belgian coast to the Swiss border. This enormous front line, the infamous Western Front, was to remain largely deadlocked for the next four years.

  THE EASTERN FRONT AND SOUTHERN EUROPE IN 1914

  In southern Europe, Germany’s allies, the Austro-Hungarians, had marched on Serbia, only to have their attack rebuffed by determined Serbian forces. On the Eastern Front, Russian forces surprised the Germans, attacking East Prussia on 17 August 1914. While Russian casualties were immense — an entire army was lost while the other retreated — Germany had been forced to open a second front. The division of German forces between the two fronts had a significant impact on the successful implementation of the Schlieffen Plan. Despite this, the Allies were dealt a powerful blow when the Ottoman Empire (Turkey) joined the German-led Central Powers in October 1914. The poorly equipped Russians were unable to access Allied supplies through traditional land-based supply routes; the seaborne supply routes via the Mediterranean Sea and the strategically vital Dardanelles were likewise closed. British plans to reinforce their Russian ally and control the region would soon result in the first commitment of Australian forces to battle.

  ON AUSTRALIA’S SHORES

  The Australian Imperial Force (AIF) was raised as an expeditionary force specifically designed to fight abroad. It was to be an army of volunteers and would remain so for the duration of the war. Initially, a small corps of some 2000 men, the Australian Naval and Military Expeditionary Force, was rushed to the German-held colonies of the Bismarck Archipelago and German New Guinea to the north of Australia. German wireless stations were destroyed, forcing the German colonists’ surrender to the Australians by mid-September. It was here that the young nation suffered its first military casualties of the war: six men were killed in the fighting and four wounded. There would be another four long years of devastating warfare and unimaginable casualties to come.

  THE FIRST ANZACS

  By the end of October 1914, volunteers from every state had assembled at King George Sound in Western Australia. A contingent of New Zealand troops joined the Australians and, on 1 November, the men who would become the first Anzacs sailed in convoy for the Middle East. Within a week a distress call had been received from the Cocos Islands; the Emden, a rogue German cruiser creating havoc in Malay and Indian waters, was approaching Direction Island. The warship Sydney detached from the convoy and engaged the Emden in a brief but decisive battle. The Emden, having suffered heavy damage, was forced aground and many of her crew surrendered.

  With the ocean now clear of the threat posed by the Emden, the Australian convoy continued on its voyage to the ancient lands of the Middle East. In the desert sand close to the fabled pyramids of Egypt, the volunteers of the AIF were drilled and instructed for four long months. This was a time in which the young Anzacs developed their celebrated reputation for a unique Australian spirit and, notoriously, their contempt for British officers and the class structure on which the British army based its concept of discipline. The Anzacs were to become renowned for their irreverent sense of humour and their highly developed concept of natural justice — the ideal of a ‘fair go’. They were resourceful and tough, courageous and fiercely loyal, and they were prepared to give their lives for their mates. From this point, the Australian army would forge its own iconic image as an army of citizen soldiers, volunteers who had little time for polish and pettiness.

  February 1915 arrived and, while rumours of impending departures to an unspecified theatre of war were rife, it was not until April that the Australians set sail, crossing the Mediterranean Sea en route for the Dardanelles. It would be here, on the fabled and ancient Greek battlegrounds, at the narrow entrance to the Sea of Marmara, that the Allies would attempt to capture the Gallipoli peninsula, held by well-entrenched Turkish troops. The defenders were thinly ranged along the heights above the shoreline and they were determined to protect their homeland. The straits, known as ‘The Narrows’, had been mined; lines of floating mines were anchored throughout the narrow passage that led to the Sea of Marmara. The attempts of the combined British and French fleet to capture the Dardanelles had come to naught, yet this was critical to the planned Allied invasion of Turkey, the key to supporting Russian forces by carving a supply line through to the Black Sea ports.

  On the morning of 25 April 1915, the first wave of
Anzacs clambered over the sides of their transports into rowboats towed by steam pinnaces. It was 2.35 am. By 4.15 am they were approaching the beach. Dawn was beginning to break, casting a pale light on the faces of the silent men. While most had some sense of the historical significance of their landing, they could not have known that a campaign that would ultimately end in defeat would become the stuff of legend, the failed invasion celebrated as marking the birth of the Australian national character. However the military blunder that was the Gallipoli campaign would cost the lives of over 8700 Australians while some 19,400 were wounded. It would be a nine-month ordeal that would earn the 50,000 Australians who endured the rigours of Gallipoli a reputation for indomitable courage, initiative and fierce loyalty.

  While the Marlow brothers did not witness the horrors of Gallipoli, they watched with increasing impatience as the list of killed and wounded grew. Local boys such as Bert (Robert) Wishart of the 9th Light Horse Regiment wrote letters home, many published in local newspapers. Prior to his enlistment Bert had played football with Macorna, a rival Australian Rules Football team to that of the Marlow sons. Seventy years after he rushed to enlist on 17 September 1914 in the wave of excitement that had greeted the declaration of war, he laughingly suggested that I could have asked my grandfather what a fast runner he had been. His older brother Rex (Reginald) had served in the 38th Battalion with the Marlow brothers. Rex died as the result of a gunshot wound to the abdomen on 28 May 1917 during a raid on enemy trenches near Ploegsteert Wood, Belgium.

  Bert was sent to Gallipoli with the 9th Light Horse Regiment, 3rd Light Horse Brigade, landing on 16 May and spending six arduous months on the rugged peninsula. Fortune smiled on him in the infamous attack on The Nek on 7 August — he was in reserve and watched in horror as waves of Western Australian and Victorian men were mown down by Turkish machine-gun fire in a miscalculated assault on strongly fortified enemy trenches. Bert’s good fortune continued when, just a few weeks later, half his regiment was killed or wounded in the attack on Hill 602. In late November, those men who had endured six months on Gallipoli were sent to Lemnos Island for a period of rest. Bert was one of only eight original members of his 500 to 600-strong regiment who had survived that first six months. All the other members of his regiment had become casualties — killed, wounded or evacuated with illness. While Bert rested at Lemnos, Britain’s Minister for War, Lord Kitchener, visited Gallipoli for the first time at the behest of the War Committee. He ordered the now-famous evacuation from Turkish soil.