Our Anzacs...photos and memories

[tabily]

Hi everyone..
Was really thrilled  to see this post..I found information on my GG Uncle Alfred Irwin Barr who died at Gallipoli and recently found this photo in the on-line newspaper archives.  It was an incredible moment finding his picture and bringing him even more to life.. and being able to pass on his legacy as he had no children. 

He  died on 22nd of August 1915 at Gallipoli, aged 25.  His war records are so sad with letters back and forth from his mother trying to find out what happened to him.  Family legend say she waited every night on the verandah for years waiting for him to come home

TRANSCRIPTION OF DEATH REPORT FROM AUSTRALIAN WAR MEMORIAL
Australian List.
A.I.F. 18th Bn.
Barr Pte. Alfred Irwin Barr
Witness said Barr got through the first part of the time, he was at Lone Pine all right.  On 22nd Aug they were operating over on the left near the New Zealanders when Barr was shot. Witness saw him fall.  He did not get up again and witness concluded he was dead.  Barr was a tall thin man.  Witness knew nothing further about him.  SA
Reference: Pte V. Ross 1243 D.Co.18th Bn. 26 Gen. Hosp. Etaples 26th May 1916.

It is nice to keep his memory alive.

[Arranroots]

Just Moi - that is so moving! 

I have a little ANZAC badge that the lovely Rootschatter Darcy sent me to commemorate Kenneth CAMERON - my relative who died near Gallipoli.  Sadly I have no picture of him and I don't know whether he'd had time to marry after emigrating - he was too young ...

[Siamese Girl]

The AIF service records are the most moving documents I have ever read - all those heartrending letters from relatives and friends, invariably apologising for writing. You have to be made of stone not to weep when reading them. But they DID receive replies, even if there wasn't much information that could be given.

You never hear of them but there must have been a huge army of people behind the scenes writing the letters, organizing the return of possesions to the widows and parents of the dead and generally keeping track of all the notes - they did a good job too.

Carole

[tropicalj]

http://www.rootschat.com/forum/index.php?topic=452160.new
another thread on  the Australian board

This photo is of my great uncle Arthur William SHOEBRIDGE
born in Australia died in Gallipoli

Son of Arthur James SHOEBRIDGE and Mary Ann ( Annie) BAKER

He married Caroline NUTE in 1910 in Sydney,

Was a 26 year married man with children  when he joined up  24/5/1915  He Left Australia in June headed for Egypt and the on to Gallipole.
He was killed in Action 27 August 1915 at Deran's Post, Lone Pine, Gallipoli.
He has No known grave but is commemorated on The Lone Pine Memorial (Panel 39), Gallipoli, Turkey

[tropicalj]

Just Moi - that is so moving! 

I have a little ANZAC badge that the lovely Rootschatter Darcy sent me to commemorate Kenneth CAMERON - my relative who died near Gallipoli.  Sadly I have no picture of him and I don't know whether he'd had time to marry after emigrating - he was too young ...

Perhaps US Aussies could help you out with further research.

there is one Kenneth Cameron mentioned on the AIF Data base
Regimental number 1200
Religion Presbyterian
Occupation Chemical worker
Marital status Single
Age at embarkation 40
Next of kin Father, D Cameron, Lannington Street, Tain, Scotland
Enlistment date 21 September 1914
Rank on enlistment Private
Unit name 4th Battalion, 1st Reinforcement
AWM Embarkation Roll number 23/21/2
Embarkation details Unit embarked from Melbourne, Victoria, on board HMAT A32 Themistocles on 22 December 1914
Rank from Nominal Roll Private
Unit from Nominal Roll 4th Battalion
Fate Died of disease 21 November 1915

perhaps this is him?

kind thoughts JEnn

[tedscout]

Recieved this poem by email and had to share it with you all.

The Anzac on the Wall 
I  wandered thru a country town 'cos I had time to spare,
And went into an antique shop to see what was in there.
Old Bikes and pumps and kero lamps, but hidden by it all,
A photo of a soldier boy - an  Anzac on the Wall.
"The Anzac have a name?" I asked. The old man answered "No,.
The ones who could have told me mate, have passed on long ago.
The old man kept on talking and, according to his tale,
The photo was unwanted junk bought from a clearance sale.
"I asked around," the old man said, "but no one knows his face,
He's been on that wall twenty years,   deserves a better place.
For some one must have loved him so, it seems a shame somehow."
I nodded in agreement and then said,  "I'll take him now."
My nameless digger's photo, well it  was a sorry sight
A cracked glass pane and a broken frame - I had to make it right
To prise the photo from its frame I  took care just in case,
"Cause only sticky paper held the cardboard back in place.
I peeled away the faded screed and much to my surprise,
Two letters and a telegram appeared before my eyes
The first reveals my Anzac's name, and  regiment of course
John Mathew Francis Stuart -  of Australia's own Light Horse.
This letter written from the front, my interest now was keen
This note was dated  August seventh 1917
"Dear Mum, I'm at Khalasa Springs not far from the Red Sea
They say it's in the Bible - looks like Billabong to me.
"My Kathy wrote I'm in her prayers  she's still my bride to be
I just cant wait to see you both you're all the world to me
And Mum you'll soon meet Bluey, last month they shipped him out
I told him to call on you when he's up and about."
"That bluey is a larrikin, and we all thought it funny
He lobbed a Turkish hand grenade into the CO's dunny.
I told you how he dragged me wounded in from no man's land
He stopped the bleeding closed the wound with only his bare hand."
"Then he copped it at the front from some stray shrapnel blast
It was my turn to drag him in and I thought he wouldn't last
He woke up in hospital, and nearly lost  his mind
Cause out there on the battlefield he'd left one leg behind."
"He's been in a bad way mum,  he knows he'll ride no more
Like me he loves a horse's back he was a champ before.
So Please Mum can you take him in, he's been like my brother
Raised in a Queensland orphanage he' s never known a mother."
But Struth, I miss Australia mum, and in my mind each day
I am a mountain cattleman on high plains far away
I'm mustering white-faced  cattle, with no camel's hump in sight
And I waltz my Matilda by a campfire every night
I wonder who rides Billy, I heard the pub burnt down
I'll always love you and please say hooroo to all in town".
The second letter I could see  was in a lady's hand
An answer to her soldier son there in a foreign land
Her copperplate was perfect, the pages neat and clean
It bore the date  November 3rd 1917.
"T'was hard enough to lose your Dad,  without you at the war
I'd hoped you would be home by now - each day I miss you more"
"Your Kathy calls around a lot since you have been away
To share with me her hopes and dreams about your wedding day
And Bluey has arrived  - and what a godsend he has been
We talked and laughed  for days about  the thin gs you've done and seen"
"He really is a comfort, and works hard around the farm,
I read the same hope in his eyes that you won't come to harm.
Mc Connell's kids rode Billy, but suddenly that changed
We had a violent lightning storm, and it was really strange."
"Last Wednesday  just on midnight, not a single cloud in sight
It raged  for several minutes, it gave us all a fright
It really spooked your Billy - and he screamed and bucked and reared
And then he rushed the sliprail fence, which by a foot he cleared"
"They brought him back next afternoon, but something's changed  I fear
It's like the day you brought him home, for no one can get near
Remember when you caught him with his black and flowing mane?
Now Horse breakers fear the beast that only you can tame,"
"That's why we need you home son" - then the flow of ink went dry-
This letter was unfinished, and I couldn't work out why.
Until I started reading  the letter number three
A yellow telegram delivered news of tragedy
Her son killed in action - oh - what pain that must have been
The Same date as her letter - 3rd November   17
This letter which was never sent, became then one of three
She sealed behind the photo's face - the  face she longed to see.

[tedscout]

And John's home town's old timers -children when he went to war
Would say no greater cattleman had left the town before.
They knew his widowed mother well - and with respect  did tell
How when she lost her only boy she lost her mind as well.
She could not face the awful  truth,  to strangers she would speak
"My Johnny's  at the war you know ,  he's coming home next week."
They all remembered Bluey he stayed on to the end
A younger man with  wooden leg became her closest friend
And he would go and find her when she wandered old and weak
And always softly say  "yes dear - John will be home next week."
Then when she died Bluey moved on, to Queensland some did say
I tried to find out where he went, but dont know to this day
And Kathy  never wed - a lonely spinster some found odd
She wouldn't set foot in a church - she'd turned her back on God
John's mother left no will I learned on my detective trail
This explains my photo's journey, that clearance sale
So I continued digging cause I wanted to know more
I found John's name with thousands in the records of the war
His last ride proved his courage - a ride you will acclaim
The Light Horse Charge at Beersheba of everlasting fame
That last day in October back in 1917
At 4pm our brave boys fell - that sad fact I did glean
That's when John's life was sacrificed, the record's crystal clear
But 4pm in Beersheba is midnight over here.......
So as John's gallant sprit rose to cross the great divide
Were lightning bolts back home a signal from the other side?
Is that why Billy bolted and went racing as in pain?
Because he'd  never feel his master on his back again?
Was it coincidental? same time - same day - same date?
Some proof of numerology, or just a  quirk of fate?
 I think it's more than that,  you know, as I've heard wiser men,
Acknowledge there are many things that go beyond our ken
Where craggy peaks guard secrets neath dark skies torn asunder
Where hoofbeats are companions to the rolling waves of thunder
Where lightning cracks like 303's and ricochets again
Where howling moaning gusts of wind sound just like dying men
Some Mountain cattlemen have sworn on lonely alpine track
They've glimpsed a huge  black stallion -  Light Horseman on his back.

 
Yes Sceptics say, it's swirling clouds just forming apparitions
Oh no, my friend you cant dismiss all this as superstition
The desert of Beersheba - or windswept Aussie range
John Stuart rides forever there -  Now I dont find that strange.
Now some gaze at this photo, and they often  question me
And I tell them a  small white lie, and say he's family.
 "You must be proud of him." they say - I tell them, one and all,
That's why he takes  the pride of place - my Anzac on the Wall.

[mosher]

Oh that is so sad, Ted.     I was quite disappointed to not find a John Stuart that came from highland cattle country.  Am I extremely gullible that I thought it was true?

[tedscout]

I never thought one way or the other if it was true. I just thought it was a beautiful poem about a young man who has no one to rememer him this ANZAC day. There must be some "real" stories like that though.