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Corowa, NSW
For a great part of its journey to the sea, the Murray River forms a border between the Australian States of New South Wales and Victoria. Nestled serenely, and with some tenacity, on its banks is the small township of Corowa.Corowa Map
Initially established in 1859 as a rural service center and river port, Corowa benefited significantly from the nearby gold rushes occurring during those mid-nineteenth century years. Due, perhaps, to its unique location Corowa was the gathering place of choice for many conferences leading to the establishment of the Commonwealth of Australia in 1901.
St Andrews and World War 1
As the town prospered and grew, the community developed numerous community facilities including schools, hospitals, halls and, of course, churches. In 1886, there being a strong population of Scottish origin, a Presbyterian Church was established and built. This eventually became known as St Andrews Presbyterian Church and it continues to serve its pastoral community to the present day.With the outbreak of war in 1914, Corowa's sons and daughters rallied to the cause, with over 200 from the district enlisting before the war ended in 1918. This was not unique to Corowa. All over the country over 400,000 men and women offered themselves to the war effort, this from a population of barely five million. During those terrible years and, most certainly after the war ended, monuments and Honour Rolls appeared in most towns and a large number of halls, schools and churches. St Andrews Presbyterian Church was no exception!
There are 40 names on this Roll of Honour. When it was originally hung in April 1916 there were only 19 names, plus one to be added who had only just marched in to Training Camp. In the ensuing years, a further 20 recruits would have their names included.
The Unveiling
The Unveiling Ceremony was a big affair, with all the expected pomp and ceremony. The Corowa Free Press was there and reported in the following terms:
Corowa Free Press (NSW : 1875 - 1954), Tuesday 18 April 1916, page 3
Unveiling Ceremony
A most pleasant ceremony was conducted at the Presbyterian Church on Sunday afternoon last, when an honour board, containing the names of twenty members of the Corowa Church who have enlisted to serve their King and country, was unveiled. The church was well filled with ladies and gentlemen of all denominations. In opening the proceedings, after the hymn, "Onward, Christian Soldiers" was sung, and patriotic airs played by the B.B Band, the Rev. McLaren Scott, the pastor, said some months ago it had been decided by the church to perpetuate the memory of the boys who had gone to the front, and the method adopted was the erection of a board of honour. He would call on the mayor of the town to perform the ceremony. Incidentally he would like to mention that Mr. Piggin was the right sort of mayor, and they were honoured in having him present on that occasion. When asked to unveil the honour board, Mr. Piggin said in his generous manner that he would be only too glad to do anything. The Mayor, after thanking the previous speaker, said it gave him great pleasure to take part in the function, as if anybody desired to honour those men who were fighting for the country he could claim to be one of them. Those men deserve more than we could ever show of our appreciation for the manner in which they had heard their country's call and the way they had answered it. We know we are not fighting alone for the British Empire, but for Australia. And if there is a prize which Germany seeks It is the huge territory of Australia. Our boys at the front are not doing badly, but the number is not sufficient, and the desire to give young men from the Presbyterian Church as well as other churches. There are great sacrifices wanted, but the greatest of all are the sacrifices of the mothers who had given their sons, and there were hundreds of mothers every night who went down on bended knees and asked God to protect their sons. All honour to them who allow their sons to go to the front. The example set by the young men whose names were on the board he was about to unveil should be followed by others. More men were always wanted, and functions such as these may be the means of inspiring those who are still wavering. The mayor then raised the flag which covered the board, and said he hoped that as time goes on the hoard would be completely filled with the names of boys who had gone to the front.
Recruiting Sergeant Evans briefly addressed the gathering. He thanked the Rev. Mr. Scott for giving him the opportunity of honouring the men whose names were on the board and were doing their duty at the present time. They set a fine example to those who, through selfish ideas, were not going. There were those who could not get away, but their inability was recognised, and it was their misfortune, but those who were free and fit and were not at the front would have to answer to their God at some time.
The names on the honour hoard were as under:— E. Anstey, D. G. Armstrong. A. Allanson. J Wilson. A. Oswald. A. G. McLennan. A. M. Cameron, F. Burrows. A. D. McLennan. A. J. Wilson. W. Wellwood. C. J, Gardner. C. McKenzie. V. Charity. H. Buchanan. H.T. Trewavis. A. Alston. W. Tait. J. B. Cameron.
The Rev. Mr. Scott intimated that the other name should have been added, viz., Glen Figgins, who was in camp at the present time, and would go to the front shortly. It would be added in due course. The ceremony concluded by all singing the National Anthem.
A collection was taken up during the afternoon for patriotic purposes.
Of course, it was April 1916. While the tragedy of Gallipoli was over, the good people of Corowa were innocent of the industrial slaughter yet to come! The disaster at Fromelles was still 92 days away!
Of course, it was April 1916. While the tragedy of Gallipoli was over, the good people of Corowa were innocent of the industrial slaughter yet to come! The disaster at Fromelles was still 92 days away!
Of those first 20, seven would pay the ultimate price. In total, ten would not return.
Follow this link for the full names and brief description of each person on the Roll of Honour:
Letters From The Front.
Through the passion of people to keep past editions of local newspapers, and the genius of the National Library of Australia and its Trove project (trove.nla.gov.au), we are fortunate to have some "letters from the front". I have included three here for the reader to enjoy, all published in the Corowa Free Press.
The first letter is from Private Jack Wilson, the second from Private Alf Oswald and the third from Jack's brother, James (Jim) Wilson. Both the Wilson boys survived the war.
1. Corowa Free Press (NSW : 1875 - 1954), Friday 8 October 1915, page 6
LETTERS FROM THE FRONT.
A COROWA LAD'S IMPRESSIONS OF GALLIPOLI. . AN INTERESTING NARRATIVE.
Mr. A. E. Mason, secretary of the Border Brass Band, Is In receipt of the following letter from Private Jack Wilson, younger son of Mr. and Mrs. Alex. Wilson, of Gray street, Corowa, who
was an old and enthusiastic member of the Band:-
The Trenches, . August 16, 1915.
Dear Alf,
As we are having 48 hours' rest from the trenches I am taking the opportunity of dropping you a line. We left Mena camp on Easter Saturday, and marched to Cairo, knowing that at last we were off for some fighting. The 10 mile march seemed nothing. It was early on Sunday morning when we en-trained for Alexandria, and getting our horses, artillery, baggage, etc., aboard was rather tedious work, and took some time. At last we got away. I slept all night, and awoke at our destination, for we had a straight run through. A transport was waiting for us, and we transferred to It. The vessel was the biggest I have been on yet — the Mlnnewaska, about 16,000 tons, a twin screw, and a boat which has done 20 knots after sighting a submarine. There were almost 200 boats In the harbour, mostly French and English transports fitting out. We stayed at the wharf for a couple of days, and I went aboard several French boats and armoured cruisers; had a good look at the guns; tried to talk to the men; and, after being 12 months among people, it's wonderful how easy the drift of a conversation is followed. I can make myself understood in Arabic and French, and since mixing with the Gurkhas and Indians here we are getting an idea of their "twang." We left Alexandra with several other boats, and in two days reached Lemnos Island, the mustering place for the transports and the Navy. Lemnos is a pretty little Island, with green hills and young crops growing In the flats at that time, Old-time windmills for grinding corn stand in rows on the hills. The houses in the villages have red-tiled roofs, and after the sands of Egypt it was a relief to the eyesight. We practised landing and taking up positions, and then had a few hours off to look round. I went up to a mill to see how it worked, but found it was a restaurant. A division of French troops having camped on the beach the mill-owner saw good prospects, so furled his sails, put in a stove and table, and sold coffee and steak and eggs. Other mills were working. They are built of stone, 14 ft. high, 12 ft. across (round buildings), with a roof and ceiling. The grinding gear Is in the top storey. The wings have a 20 ft. spread, and are made of wood and canvas. When not in use the sails are rolled up and tied. The inhabitants (Greeks mostly) live the simple life, making their own clothes and boots. The latter are "tricks," made like a mocassin of pigskin, with very pointed toes. They have a new breed of sheep here, with red and black spots on the fleece. It Is hard to tell which are the goats. During the few days' stay in the harbour I had a look round the Queen Elizabeth, the Queen, and many other warships, until we got tired of rowing to them. The guns on the "Lizzie" are enormous. The breach of them are over 6 ft. in diameter. She had a few holes patched up, the result of fire from the fort during the previous bombardment of the Dardanelles. After leaving Lemnos a couple of days I awoke one morning to the sound of big gun fire; went up on deck, and the battleships, including the "Lizzie," were bombarding some forts, and for a while they returned the fire. As the light became clearer we could see the shells shifting and the forts going up In the air. This being my first experience of big gun fire, it was rather exciting; but how, after four months of it, it has lost all its glamour (like the boy with the new toy). We could hear the rifle fire on the beach and see the shrapnel bursting. A destroyer came alongside; we climbed aboard with our packs, weighing, with ammunition and rifle, about 80 lb. We had to carry three days' rations; and it's a tricky job going down a rope ladder from a high deck. The destroyer ran in as far as it could. We then transferred to rowing boats, and a launch towed us as close as it could; then we rowed a dozen or two strokes till the keel touched the bottom; then, with our harness on our backs, we jumped, dived, scrambled or fell out, and waded ashore. Thinking over it since I am forced to smile. Some of the men went right under on the slippery bottom. I landed in about 4 feet of water. All came up smiling, however, and waded out. During all this shrapnel was bursting all over the place. One chap was bit In our boat. We lined up on the beach, and went up the hills to reinforce the firing line. I don't quite know how I felt; but I had a feeling; you are anxious to get there; but you are all ears and eyes looking for snipers and listening for shells. Every one you duck. This is accompanied by an empty feeling in the region of the chest. This lasts for half an hour; then you feel alright, and the wearier you become the less regard you pay to shells and bullets. The first man you see knocked over gives a momentary feeling that has to be experienced to know what it is— and, too true, there were many. It was hard going all day and night. Toward morning, we got dug in and hung on. My recollection of the first couple of days are very hazy, as I was very tired and had had no sleep. Meanwhile fresh troops continued to land, and the third day the brigade I belong to was told to muster on the beach to reorganise, and we were given a couple of days' rest, during which time I slept and ate, with several swims per day. This put new life Into us, and we went back to the line as fit as fiddles. That hard training in Egypt stuck to us like porridge. The first day we bad no artillery to support us, excepting several mountain batteries, which were landed by the Indians and run into position, and did sterling work. The Indians are commanded by English officers. The gun is carried in four pieces, on mules, up the steep hills, over rocks and bush, and, sliding down almost perpendicular slopes, they reach their position, and It is only a matter of moments before they are in action. They are light, firing a shell about 9 lb., and they soon drew fire from the enemy's field guns using twice the weight of shell. Needless to say they had a hot time, but they kept going. The mules were often killed in bringing up a gun, and the men would run it up. The crews would go down or the gun put out of action, but all were quickly replaced. For several days the artillery was in the line with the infantry — an almost unheard-of thing before. It was just on sundown when our first 18-pounder field gun was firing. A road had to be cut from the beach to the.top of a hill, and eight horses, with the assistance of 100 men, got it up. Since then we have never looked back. As regards artillery. On the 19th May the enemy made a general attack on the whole of our front, It commenced an hour before daylight. The position of their trenches was from 30 to 100 yards from our line. We were on the alert, and the machine gun and rifle fire that met them mowed the ranks like a binder cuts crops. It lasted several hours; and during an armistice arranged some days later, we buried 5000 of the enemy. Our casualties were 500.
How many wounded must the enemy have had? The forts on the other side often shell us with from 8-inch to 11.2-inch guns. The shells can be heard coming for several seconds, and for the last quarter of a mile they are easily seen. There is a young earthquake where it lands and explodes, and the noise I like a bass drum in each ear going off. But It's good to hear the navy bombarding and the shells slipping over. Since starting this letter I can safely say that over 100 shells have burst within a quarter of a mile of the dug-out I at present occupy. Some have gone over, some behind, and others to both sides of it. Most of it is shrapnel, and it has practically no effect on entrenched troops unless it catches you exposed. The big shells are percussion, highly explosive; and mostly used for putting guns out of action — at least, they try to. I have seen a couple after a direct hit, and they are only fit for the scrap heap. We have some five and six-men howitzer batteries from Glasgow City, and when an enemy gun is picked up they soon knock it out. But gun seem to be plentiful, and those damaged are soon replaced. I'll give you my impressions of a bayonet charge before closing. We had a "pet" last week. We were shown the objective, a certain line of trenches, and were told the artillery would bombard for half an hour, and they did. Some 80 guns poured in lyddite and high explosive as fast as they could load, which was vigorously replied to. Our guns cease, the| whistle goes, and over the parapet the men hop, and race with fixed bayonets to the enemy's line, some 70 yards away. The machine guns sweep the intervening ground, and rifles are going their hardest. But the first line have reached the reserve trench, and jump in; their artillery take up the move, and shrapnel sweeps the ground. But the next line reaches the support trench and dive in; the next line take the fire trench, and the position is won. Then it has to be held. The reserve trench has to be made into a fire trench, for the counter-attacks soon commence, and they must be held. We are still in them, and improving our positions dally. The roll call shows the price paid for the winning of them. I have had curios that would be worth a small fortune could they be got home, but they are willingly exchanged for a cigarette here. All have been vaccinated several times, and inoculated at regular periods, and I don't think we realise the benefit derived therefrom. There is no fever and very little sickness amongst the conditions existing here. All manner of weapons are used here. Gunboats on the water, submarines under it, mines under the ground, and aeroplanes drop bombs and darts from the air, to say nothing of bombs, guns, rifles, etc. The opening day of duck shooting Isn't in It. At times, though, everything Is quiet, only a rifle shot now and then. It may be this way for hours, and then it livens up again. We were on an island called Ernbros, some 15 miles from here, for a week's spell some time ago. It was like a visit to the Garden of Eden. All kinds of fruit could be brought, a sandy beach for swimming, concerts were held each evening by English and Australian artists. We had a really good time. Sometimes delicacies can be bought In the trenches; the sailors bring them ashore, but they are rushed, even at such record prices as this: — Condensed milk, from 2/- to 3/-; whilst 3d. chocolates bring 1/6; matches I/- per dozen; lime juice, 8/- per bottle; cigarettes, 6d. per packet, and they are obtained for a trifle on the boats. There is an issue of tobacco and matches weekly; sometimes cigarettes — but the two latter don't last long. I had a pipe given to me in Sydney, the only one I have had since joining the outfit), and I still have it — truly a record. Our menu Is as follows: — Breakfast, bacon and tea and jam; dinner, stew, or rice and tea. We have rice and tea or bacon. Biscuits and bully beef are always obtainable.-Sometimes bread is on Issue. Last night a reunion was held to celebrate the anniversary of the 1st Battalion, it being twelve months since its formation in Sydney. The O.C. said a few words, and each man was given a nip of rum and a packet of "fags"— those that were in the original 1st Battalion. At 3d. per packet tho expenditure would have been £2. (Where are the boys of the old brigade?) Remember me to the B.B.B. I hope all are doing well. I often see some of the Corowa boys. Thanks for the papers sent. Writing material is "off" here. Someone has started a letter on one of these pages, but hope it will reach you in readable form. We are not downhearted. Yours sincerely, JACK. P.S.— We get our malls fairly regularly, but the last, as it was coming ashore in a trawler, was hit with a shell and sunk, and a lot of it was lost. I had a good view. of. the Triumph sinking when she was torpedoed. No atrocities can be laid against the Turks here; they are good and fair fighters what I have seen of them, and I have been here from the start. All hope for an early finish of the war, and I think we will have Christmas at home.— J.
2. Corowa Free Press (NSW : 1875 - 1954), Friday 24 March 1916, page 5
LETTERS FROM THE FRONT.
Mrs. J. Oswald, senr., of Corowa, has received the following letter from her grandson, Pte. Alf. Oswald, son of Mrs. Dave Oswald:—
I received your postcard today, 10th January. I am delighted to hear from you; also thanks for the War Budgets. We are always glad to get papers of that kind. I was very sorry to hear of poor grandfather's death. He is better off, poor old chap, than to be suffering. We have all to face death sooner or later. I only hope you will live and enjoy the best of health for many a year to come yet. I saw poor Billy Crisfield lying on the beach the day we landed. He was wounded. I could not stop to see him, as we all had to do our bit that day or we should have been driven into the sea. This is a terrible war— so many lives lost and homes wrecked; but it is better to face death a thousand times than to be under the Germans, for they will show us no mercy. I have seen some awful sights, but it is wonderful how used one gets to seeing such sights. I was very lucky, thank God, to be through the thick of it for 17 weeks before getting hit. I got one in the arm and one in the leg. The bullet is still in my leg, and it gives me trouble at times; but that is nothing to what some of the poor chaps suffer. A mate of mine has both his eyes out. He is back in Sydney, poor fellow. Billy Dunn was in the same company as I am in. He must have been hit the same time as I was at Lone Pine.
You have seen, by the paper by this that we have left Anzac. it seems a pity, after losing so many lives, but I suppose it was for the best. I received a letter a few days ago from on old country relative, George Oswald, from Dunfermline, Scotland, asking me to write to him, and he would let me know about an old country relative, so I will write to him, as I may get to England before the war's over. Well, dear grandmother, I will now close this letter, with love, and hoping you are in the best of health.— Your affectionate grandson, ALF. Mrs. Oswald also received a letter from Mr. Hogan, formerly of Corowa, acknowledging receipt of article sent by her.
Note: Alf went on to be awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal (DCM), second only to the Victoria Cross. Alf Oswald died of wounds on the 9th of August 1918.
3. Corowa Free Press (NSW : 1875 - 1954), Tuesday 3 October 1916, page 3
LETTERS FROM THE FRONT.
GERMAN DUG - OUTS.
Mr. Alex. Wilson, of Albert street, Corowa, has received the following most interesting letter from his son James, "somewhere in France":-
".....Have done some shifting since I wrote last, per train and boot (especially the latter). As we were entraining from our old position an enemy aeroplane came over and dropped a couple of bombs, but luckily they went wide of the mark. After the train we had four days on the road, eventually arriving at the new scene of action. I suppose the full particulars of the "dust-up" will have been published long before this reaches you, and if this Is the case you will have guessed that things were pretty lively. On the final stage of our trip we "dumped" our packs, but we were unlucky, as we had to carry all our guns, lamps, telephones, telescopes, flags, and an aeroplane signal panel. By the time we finished our jaunt all hands were absolutely done up. Of course we carried all our ordinary gear with 24 hours' rations and an extra 100 rounds of ammunition. For the first couple of days things were fairly quiet In the lines; our guns were going strong, but Fritz had very tittle to say. They say he was shifting his guns back, which was very likely the case. After we charged and went forward to occupy the ground won, there was a different tale to tell, and they gave us shells of all descriptions, and plenty of them. In the other parts of the line we occupied I thought things were badly knocked about, but it was nothing to here. If you see a village mentioned as the centre of the fighting, just imagine some heaps of bricks; a wood is represented by stumps, and everywhere the ground was pitted with shell holes. These shell holes were very much in the boom during the bombardment. Of course it settled the 'phone wires, and messages had to be carried. I put in some amazing bursts of speed between one hole and the next.
The German dug-outs were something extra special; usually In pairs, about 18 feet underground, and connected by a passage underneath, so that if one stairway became blown In, the other could be used. The one we were In had a suite (!) of four rooms constructed in a little hollow, the walls and roof well protected by tree trunks and earth; a passage right through the four rooms, which were framed out with 12 x 3 timber, mortised and tenoned together. Over this was stretched a lining of canvas, which was nicely painted, and dado, frieze and ceiling designs picked out in colours; cupboards and shelves built in, mirrors galore; electric light and bells and stoves for heating and cooking. Underneath this again was the usual pair of dug-outs. I had my first sleep on a spring bed for many days here, real swagger spring beds! But five of us were trying to occupy it, and after two hours I had to go out on post duty. I might mention that with all the work put In on this place one of our naval guns had made an awful wreck of it. A little way along the road was another constructed in reinforced concrete, 3/8 in. iron every three inches for reinforcement, every crossing tied with wire. Four flights of stairs led to the bottom of this place, a room lined with concrete blocks. I believe there were quite a number of rooms, but I just went straight in and out. At any rate, when we were relieved, over 100 men mustered there to wait until it was dark enough to come out. The worst feature of these points was that the Germans knew exactly where they were, and thumped them unmercifully. They put a couple of tear-gas shells Into one I was in, which made a lot of chaps vomit, besides giving their eyes a very bad time. All sorts of stuff was found in the trenches— machine guns, rifles, bayonets, ammunition, revolvers, field glasses, in fact everything that Is used in war. We got two telescopes, but as some of our own were blown up, we show no profit on the deal! It was an awful job getting the rations and water up to the front line. Of course all the roads and tracks got particular attention, and it was quite a common occurrence to find some bags of food or tins of water where a shell had found the party; in fact, if it had not been for this we would have gone short. Two bags of bread and one cheese saved the situation for us....I went up to the artillery observation posts to watch a bombardment on our right— a wonderful sight; flares and shells of all colours, and on the left saw one of our chaps chasing four Germans across the open with bombs. I know that this will seem ridiculous, but it is a positive fact. Of our party of five signalers who left Sydney together, one has been killed, and another wounded. At this stage we were called to go out on parade, but just got ready when word came that we were to have a half-holiday. So I went along and saw Jack. On returning, your letter was awaiting me; had gone to the 3rd Battalion. My address is now Signal Section, 2nd Battalion. I don't think anyone was sorry when word came that our relief from the line was complete, and we lost no time In getting out. At the cookers they had stew and tea ready, and, by Jove, it was acceptable. Farther on they had a bit of a resting place, with hot coffee on tap. We gave this a call, of course, and after I had consumed my pint I sat back and had a look round. I will never forget the sight revealed by the firelight. The crowd of dirty, whiskery men, with the strained look in their eves from want of sleep and constant watching. But they had had a win, and were happy. We bivouacked two nights, and then started to march back by easy stages. Of course reaction set in, and tempers were pretty short. Eventually we arrived at a small village, and had a week's rest. In the military sense "rest" means three parades a day, and start from the beginning of recruit drill. I have been on instructing a new batch of signalers. If anything it is worse than having to do the drill yourself. But still it is better than slope arms by numbers. Do you know that I haven't seen a Corowa paper for months. 1 don't think they bother with papers on this sector, transport required for other purposes. Jack was telling me he ordered a paper. "Fragments of France," to be sent to you. I don't know how they will strike anyone at home but they are true to life in every detail. Struck a fruit stall while coming back this afternoon. About 1 lb. of grapes, 8 tomatoes, and a few plums cost 2/11, but they were welcome. We have had quite a spell of fine weather, quite warm In fact. Of course it was cloudy and cool this morning when we went for a bath in water ont of an icy cold stream. Kind regards to all at home."
Obituary
Donald Goldsmith Armstrong was not a native of Corowa. He was, however, a clerk at the Corowa branch of the Bank of New South Wales at the time of his enlistment. He was a popular member of the local community and a regular in local tennis competitions, often partnering in the mixed doubles with a Miss Cameron.
The following article was printed in the Kyneton Guardian, once again through the courtesy of Trove.
Kyneton Guardian (Vic. : 1870 - 1880; 1914 - 1918), Thursday 25 October 1917, page 2
AMONG THE UNRETURNING BRAVE.
LIEUT. DONALD ARMSTRONG.
The deepest of regret was felt in Kyneton on Monday evening when it was learned that the Rev. Lithgow Tait, B.A., of St. Andrew's, Kyneton, had received a telegram from the Defence Department stating that 2nd Lieut. Donald Armstrong, younger son of the late Mr H. J. Armstrong, of Kyneton, and Mrs Armstrong, of "Wyrlong," Coonel Crescent, Malvern, and brother of Mr. Keith Armstrong, solicitor, of Kyneton, had been killed in action in France on 9th October. Lieut. Armstrong's death adds another to the already long list of natives of Kyneton who have made the supreme sacrifice at the call of duty. Lieut. Armstrong was educated at the Kyneton Grammar School and at the Scotch College, Melbourne. He subsequently entered the service of the Bank of New South Wales and enlisted some few months after the outbreak of war. He saw service in Egypt and in France, and but a little while prior to his death was transferred from the 5th to the 27th Battalion. His father, Mr H. J. Armstrong, the well known solicitor of Kyneton, died after Lieut. Armstrong had left Australia. There is no one in Kyneton and district but will deeply deplore the passing of this young soldier. There is little doubt that could Lieut. Armstrong and others of our boys like him who are numbered among the unreturning brave have written a message home prior to passing hence it would have been a message of content, content in the thought and knowledge that by their sacrifice they have made possible a greater and nobler life for those that follow after, even though they themselves cannot individually share it. We can imagine him and such as him writing a letter home like the following striking letter, written two days before he was killed in action, by Lieut. H. P. M. Jones, of the Machine Gun Corps, H.B., the elder son of Mr Harry Jones, Parliamentary correspondent, and member of the editorial staff of the "Daily Chronicle." The letter runs:—
"Have you ever reflected on the fact that despite the horrors of the war, it is at least a big thing? I mean to say that in it one is brought face to face with realities. The follies, selfishness, luxury, and general pettiness of the vile commercial sort of existence led by nine-tenths of the people of the world in peace time are replaced by a savagery that is at least more honest and outspoken. Look at it this way, in peacetime one just lives one’s own little life—engaged in trivialities; worrying about one's own comfort; about money matters, and all that sort' of thing-—just living for one's own self. What a sordid life it is!
"In war, on the other hand, even if you do get killed, you only anticipate the inevitable by a few years in any case, and you have the satisfaction of knowing that you have pegged out in the attempt to help your country. You have, in fact, realised an ideal; which, as far as I can see, you very rarely do in ordinary life. The reason is that ordinary life runs on a commercial and selfish basis: if you want to 'get on,' as the saying is, you can't keep your hands clean.
"Personally, I often rejoice that the war has come my way. It has made me realise what a petty thing life is. I think that the war has given to everyone a chance to 'get out of himself.' as one might say.
"Certainly, speaking for myself, I can say that I have never in all my life experienced such a wild exhilaration as on the commencement of a big stunt, like the last April one, for example. The excitement for the last half hour or so before it is like nothing on earth. The only thing that compares with it are the few minutes before the start of a big school match.
“Well, cheeroh!”
• To Lieut. Donald Armstrong and his fallen comrades, Hail and Farewell.
To his mother and sister and brother and relatives the deepest and sincerest
sympathy in their loneliness and sorrow—a loneliness and sorrow that will
find consolation in the knowledge of "Duty nobly done."
The "old Lie"
If you look closely at the image of the Roll of Honour above, you can just make out a few words of Latin. It is a quote from the Roman poet Horace, to be found in his "Odes". It says, "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori " .
This phrase, which has been widely used in poetry, novels, theater, etc, is usually translated as "It is sweet and fitting to die for one's country".
In 1916, a young teacher by the name of Wilfred Owen enlisted in the Manchester Regiment as a Lieutenant. He was an aspiring poet who found his genius during the war. He saw a large amount of active service, was wounded in 1917, awarded the Military Cross and was sadly killed in November 1918, just short days before the end of the conflict.
During those bitter years, Owen penned a short yet powerful poem he named "Dulce et Decorum Est". Seen as an anti war poem, it was not published until 1920. In it, Owen describes a gas attack effecting already damaged men. The last lines are thought to be directed to those writing patriotic poems in support of recruitment to the war effort.
Here is his poem. Note the second last line:
Dulce et Decorum Est
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
