An Anzac Story
April 25th is Anzac Day. It commemorates the landing of Australian and New Zealand troops in Gallipoli to fight against Turkey in WW1. It is the day we remember Australians who have served and died in all wars, conflicts and peace keeping operations.
Mr Daisy's mother has written a beautiful speech about her father who served in Gallipoli. Joan will be sharing this story at a special Anzac Day commemoration ceremony. She has kindly let me publish her speech along with some of the photos her father took. I think it's important to remember the stories behind the people. and although this is about one man, it could be the story of one of many who fought in the war.
"Good morning, friends.
Some of you may be wondering why I am the person doing this address. My only claim to fame as far as war is concerned is that my father, Rupert Thomas ,was in the Australian army and landed at Gallipoli in 1915, 100 years ago. Because there are not many of us left who had a parent in World War I, I was asked to do the job. Because of him I was proud to say “Yes”.
As his daughter I am entitled to wear his medals,too.
Some of us may never have seen genuine WWI medals before - each one is given for a different part of WWI. The first – The 1914-1915 Star for service during those years. The second, (and as we all know we were part of Britain then), is the British War medal 1914 – 1920 for entry into a theatre of war and overseas service. The third is the Victory medal, again for overseas service.
When I was a child, Anzac Day was always special. Dad ,never to my knowledge, missed going to the Dawn service, and usually another service during the day – in his younger days he always went to the Shrine in Melbourne even though we lived in the country. It was his chance to meet with friends and comrades – those with whom he had shared things that the blokes in his everyday life could not possibly imagine. Dad marched with them and spent the day with them. As soon as I was old enough I was taken to the march to watch – but Mum and the kids left early and Dad came home later. When I was older, I marched with Girl Guides and participated in the ceremonies.
Let me tell you a bit about my father. He was Rupert Thomas, born in 1897 in St Kilda. He never knew his real parents, but was fostered by a loving family. He had two older sisters and an older brother in this family and did not seem to have missed out on much because of being a foster child. He referred to the mother as Aunt, and she was the one who signed the permission form for his enlistment into the army. The older brother, Jack, also went into the army, and sadly was killed during the war.
Rupert enlisted to go into the army – ready and willing to go to war – a few days after his 18th birthday. He was a fit young man and had no trouble being accepted. He went into training at Broadmeadows immediately and I suspect he had had some cadet experience because he went from Private to Lance Corporal within a few days. As Britain was at war, they were anxious to get as many men “over there” as quickly as possible, and there were thousands of young Aussie men who were patriotic enough to want to go. Soon they were on boats and crossing to Egypt for desert training. Dad talked of the trip as a big adventure – describing the rituals of crossing the equator and exploring Cairo as fun. This included climbing to the top of the pyramid at Giza! He told me about the extremely cold nights in the desert, and the hot,hot days. He remembered one night there was rain, and the next morning to the surprise of everyone, there was a carpet of green grass. By afternoon it had all died from the heat. He was at this stage ignorant of what was to come.
Dad was in the 22nd Battalion of the AIF. They landed at Anzac Cove, Gallipoli, quite some time after what we now know as Anzac Day, 25th April. However, the landing was just as dramatic, and traumatic for these later arrivals as it was for the earlier ones. Some of the men from Dad's landing craft were killed on the beach almost before their feet touched dry sand. Thousands of young Australian, New Zealand, British, French and Indian members of their country's military forces were killed and injured. Even more of the Turkish army (the enemy) were also killed, although this is never mentioned very much. Life in the trenches was awful- it was either wet and muddy or hot and dry – water supplies were scarce, and washing was out of the question, vermin was not uncommon and all the men had lice – imagine the smell!! The dead had to be buried in horizontal graves in the sides of the trenches and the wounded had very basic care. Remember this was before there was much in the way of antibiotics and any wounds relied on the health of the soldier to heal. Dad told of the day that a truce was declared, and men from both sides left the trenches to retrieve the dead from “No Mans Land” so that they could have a decent burial.
They even shook hands with men they might have to shoot the next day. As we all know there was no victory for the Allied forces at Gallipoli, and they were to leave by December 1915.
After Gallipoli, Dad went to France and fought in the trenches there, too. He was given promotion to sergeant at some stage and also spent a time as an officer – which he decided he did not like, so he reverted to sergeant. He was wounded a couple of times. Once an enemy bullet pierced his steel helmet and lodged in his forehead – maybe I have inherited the 'thick skull' – I used to touch the spot and ask what had happened, but he didn't tell me until I was much older -”not for girls to hear those stories” Dad had some lighter experiences in France, too. Always a bit of a charmer, he soon learned some basic French – such as 'voulez vous promenade avec moi?' And 'Voulez vous me donner un baiser?' (Come for a walk and Give us a kiss) and the 'Boys' were known to greet people, saying, instead of Bon Soir Monsieur, - Bum Sore, Manure, and Olive Oil Manure for Au Revoir. One of my childhood lullabies was 'Kiss me goodnight, Sergeant Major'
Rupert's time at war ended at almost the end of the war when he was shot in France and taken to England with his shoulder shattered and lung penetrated. Apparently it was usual for the seriously wounded to be offered a favourite meal when they were arrived in England from France – Dad requested Tripe!! The nurses couldn't believe him. Copies of the messages to his Aunt showed how seriously ill he was – it was some time before he could be moved.
Rupert was brought back to Australia in 1919, and spent time at the military hospital in Caulfield before being discharged.
Of course all of this happened when Dad was not much older that our grandson, not much more than a boy, really. He returned to civilian life after recovering from his wounds. Although he had been a good sportsman before the war, he was less able afterwards. He was a keen supporter,though. His life was an interesting one. He met and married my mother and they had four children -I was the last – after all he was 42 by then. He was a very gentle man – with a wicked sense of fun. He enjoyed performing – how many of you have seen their father on stage in a dress?? I have!! Every year for years he was Father Christmas for one charity or another – he had the shape and colouring for that duty. He held a responsible job until his retirement . I could not say he ever dwelt on his awful war experiences – if he did he hid it well. He is remembered fondly by his children and grandchildren. He certainly lived a full life – even had a game of bowls on the day he died, aged 76.
My Dad was probably just the same as many of the ordinary blokes, who put their lives 'out there' so that we can have the life we have in the country we love. Today extraordinary young people – men and women – still devote themselves to keeping us all safe. This is the time we can show our appreciation of their service, and support their bravery.
And that's what Anzac day is about!
LEST WE FORGET!! "
33 Comments
Thank you for sharing Joan's story. Lest we forget....
ReplyDeleteA truly wonderful tribute. Thank you and Mr. D for sharin . Q
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like he was a lovely man, thank you and your mum in law for sharing his story.
ReplyDeleteThankyou Rachael for sharing ,what a wonderful man lest we forget xx
ReplyDeleteThe stories of ordinary people that are quite extraordinary! Lovely to hear such a personal slice of history that makes us all whole. My history is British and I had members of my extended family sacrifice much too, although Anzac Day is very much remembering Anzac troops I will stop and reflect on all those men and women that served and did for others, and continue to want to rush in and protect when most would want to flee.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing Joan's speech. It was very touching and personal. Here in the states we remember our brave soldiers in May. There are so many personal stories just like this, that can be told by so many.
ReplyDeleteAmazing photos, and lovely poppies!
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing Joan's speech. We will remember them.
ReplyDeleteHaving just returned from A Dawn Service here in NZ your post was very apt. Joan's speech echoed the thoughts shared in the speeches I heard today. What a wonderful story. Thank you for sharing it and thank you to Joan for allowing you to publish it.
ReplyDeleteYour poppies you made are lovely as is the family stories and photos that you share with us. Thanks to you all for all you did.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing the story, lest we forget.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing Mr Daisy's mum's storied of her dad. It was an amazing read. And those photos are beautiful and also heart wrenching.
ReplyDeleteOh Rachael...thank you for sharing this story...how very, very moving (tears). Lest We Fiorget
ReplyDeletelest we forget.
ReplyDeleteso touching!
ReplyDeleteGrazie per questa storia commovente!
ReplyDeleteCiao
Lest we forget indeed! I was stunned when I read he was born on St. Kilda's!
ReplyDeleteThat place has always been near and dear to my heart. Thank Joan for the wonderful remembrance and thank you so much for sharing it with us.
Thank you for sharing Joan's speech. Lest we forget b
ReplyDeletexxoo
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for sharing. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the speech and seeing the photos. It is so important to have this information documented. I think person accounts like this one tell so much more about the events of this time.
ReplyDeleteA very special post!
I really enjoyed hearing his story and seeing the pictures - please thank Mr. Daisy's mum for sharing!
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing such a personal account. I am always amazed that such young men went off to do such an impossible task.
ReplyDeleteWhat a miracle that they survived such bad injuries.
The photos are mesmerizing! I loved seeing the medals too. aren't they pretty in their own way?
Thank you & an especial thanks to your Mother-in-law for letting you share her speech. As you say, direct connections to anyone involved in WWI are dwindling. Such an awful war, as are all wars, I suppose. How sad that they are sometimes the only way to stop oppression.
ReplyDeletethanks for sharing the story........
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful post. I loved reading about your GFIL. Thanks for sharing the speech and the neat pictures!
ReplyDeleteThat was so touching, ordinary people doing the extraordinary. We need more people like them.
ReplyDeleteThe pictures bring it even more to life!
Thank you Rachel, and please thank your Mum-in-law too. My grandfather had very similar experiences to Rupert, although he went straight to France. They were so young to see/go through all that horror - we owe them so much.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad you shared this. It's a poignant reminder of how much we owe to those brave soldiers a century later. Thank you, and your mother-in-law too!
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful tribute! It's good to take the time to remember those who fought and lost so much making this world safer for all of us.
ReplyDeleteThere is nothing more precious than a family member sharing the family history with you. Pictures you shared are amazing. I did not know anyone in my family who had gone to the war but I do know that my uncle had marched along side of Mahatma Gandhi. Unfortunately, my mom was so young, and I never had chance to find out more about the family history.
ReplyDeleteI was quite moved by your mum in law's words. Please thank her for sharing her story. I chuckled when she said he had worn dress performed on a stage. Sounds like he lived a full life and with lots of love around.
Love your ribbon flower!
Thank you for sharing Joan's story dear Rachael!
ReplyDeleteYour flowers are so cute!
Hugs, Deborah
What an honour for Joan to share the story. Thanks for sharing it with us.
ReplyDeleteWow, tripe! That is such a great story. It is so good that accounts like this will exist and heroism isn't forgotten.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for leaving me a comment. Your kind words encourage me to keep sharing my work and stories.