Melissa Parke (Fremantle, Australian Labor Party, Shadow Assistant Minister for Health) Share this | Hansard source

A few weeks ago I made a constituency statement in which I spoke about the many moving events I attended in the Fremantle electorate for the Centenary of Anzac and the Gallipoli landings. I would like today to speak about an extraordinary book that I launched in the week before Anzac Day at the WA Army Museum in Fremantle.

But first some context. Like many Australians, my family had direct experience in the Great War, with my grandfather and great-uncles among the WA Anzacs who left from Fremantle wharf and who, very fortunately, returned alive, although they died before I was born, so I did not know them. My great-uncle Gordon Parke served as a stretcher-bearer alongside Simpson and his donkey at Gallipoli. When he got home he named his orchard at Donnybrook Lone Pine in memory of his fallen colleagues, but otherwise, according to my family, he never said a word about his wartime experiences, and nor did my grandfather and so many others who experienced the war.

So it is only through historical accounts gleaned from letters, diaries, oral histories, stories passed down through families and photos such as those revealed in Andrew Pittaway's Fremantle Voices of the Great War that we can find out about the trials and tribulations these people faced during and after this most bloody of wars. In reading Andrew's book one discovers afresh in the soldiers' own words both the horrendous reality of this particular war and the national pride that drove our battered soldiers to keep on fighting, in the words of 11th Battalion Private Percy Cook, 'for King and Country and wife and child and everybody'. From the lively and raucous streets at the heart of young Fremantle to the ghastly trenches of Gallipoli, Palestine and the Western Front, to the army hospitals and prisoner of war camps, and to the return home, Andrew's book brings to life the incredible experiences of the Fremantle people who served our nation during World War I.

Just from the footnotes detailing the occupations of each of those mentioned throughout, I found myself imagining the wartime streets of Fremantle emptied of every kind of worker. I thought of the people left behind to hold the fort, a task which would never have ended for the many widows, parents, friends and children who suffered the losses and those whose loved ones returned home but were never the same afterwards. Given the loss of around one-third of its working age men at a formative time in its history, it is astonishing that Freo emerged from this period and went on to thrive. Of the 3,000-plus people who left Fremantle's shores—labourers, nurses, bar managers, blacksmiths, accountants, lumpers, grocers, market gardeners, pearlers, firemen, stockmen, journalists, timber workers, musicians, artists, students, clerks, marine engineers, locomotive drivers, a federal MP and just about every other type of worker you can imagine—we know that at least 853 were killed. We know that the permanent physical, emotional and mental damage done to survivors rendered many incapable of ever returning to a steady life course.

The simple words of 33rd Battalion Private John Luff penned in his final letter to his wife, Ruby, from the battlefield in Messines aptly sum up the reality:

It is a jolly hard life and no one knows—only us poor chaps that are here …

Now, 100 years on, Andrew Pittaway's clear and precise accounts of key events contextualise the sometimes chilling and sometimes achingly mundane and good-humoured letters and diary entries of many Fremantle servicemen like John Luff who may not have returned home but at last tell us their stories within these pages.

What continually strikes you while reading the book is the sheer arbitrariness of life or death, injury or disease—the sheer chance, fate or luck, good or bad, that determined whether people died or ultimately returned home. Imagine thinking yourself lucky after having suffered at the Somme like 32nd Battalion Sergeant Walter Flindell:

1 was hit on the face with shrapnel, and a few minutes after got hit on the hip, with a piece from a high explosive shell. I was very lucky as there were men all around me being killed, and others receiving terrible wounds … it seemed impossible to live through the machine gun fire and shrapnel and those who got back have to thank providence.

In the face of the horror, the ongoing thread of comradeship and humour was a lifeline for these men. Sergeant Ted Mofflin of the 11th Battalion describes the charge up the hills after the Gallipoli landing:

I was shouting and trying to keep my little section together, and about half way up the first hill I prodded Major Brockman in the seat with my bayonet, he turned around and started to go off at me. I said "Alright lad, don't get excited" and went off and left him. He must have got a shock as he was always wanting to be saluted and sirred.

Gunner Hector McLarty describes the gallantry of his 8th Battery, 3rd Field Artillery Brigade comrades:

This is how the men in this Battery die: When the smoke from the bursting shell had cleared away, Wallis ran up to see the damage. He found Mick Taylor crawling about on the ground covered in blood, and dazed. Bill said, "Are you hit Mick" "No Bill" he said, "I am only scratched, look after Doug and Stan." (We found subsequently that he was wounded in 14 places). Bill then picked Doug Lennard up. The poor lad had one arm off, one leg shattered at the thigh and internal wounds. He said, "I'm done Bill, look after Mick and Stan. Don't mind me." Stan Carter had a fearful wound in his side. He said "I'm sorry I'm moaning. I know it will upset Mick and Doug but I can't help it I can't help it." He died poor lad almost immediately. His last words were "Did they get the gun?"

In the midst of all the death, perhaps the most human of acts can be seen in soldiers pooling their funds to establish and take care of their friends' graves, or the Turks allowing the 11th Battalion to retire from a failed attack at Gaba Tepe without firing a shot at them. What is more, when the Red Cross went to help the wounded, they found all the wounded had been bandaged and the dead buried already by the Turks.

This book, Fremantle Voices of the Great War, is very aptly named as we see and hear about the war through the eyes and ears of the Fremantle people who lived it. Naturally, Fremantle is frequently mentioned in the letters and diaries of the men. Private Marcus Anderson of the 11th Battalion told of arriving in the north of France and marching through a town when he heard someone calling his name from a window above. It was Mort Allen, the son of Reverend Tom Allen, one-time minister at the Fremantle Wesley Church. Marcus notes:

I knew Mort very well. He was a pupil at Fremantle Boys School. I never saw Mort again. Another valuable life sacrificed on the bloody altars of Mars.

Gunner George 'Chitter' Brown describes how when they first arrived in France they were unlucky to be spotted by the Germans, who promptly sent over some shells:

I lost my best pal, Sergeant Henry Robinson from Fremantle. He was captain of the North Fremantle juniors and extremely popular with all who met him … he leaves a wife and child at North Fremantle.

It is worth noting that there were so many members of the North Fremantle Football Club who were killed or seriously injured in World War I that the club was ruled ineligible to remain in the West Australian Football League after the war, with collateral benefits to the other Fremantle clubs, South Fremantle and East Fremantle, who picked up North Fremantle's best remaining players. Baden Pratt has written a wonderful book called Hell for Leather: the Forgotten Footballers of North Fremantle.

In Fremantle Voices of the Great War we read the diary notes of the son of CY O'Connor, Fremantle engineer, Corporal Roderick O'Connor, who was killed in action in France in 1917, 15 years after his father's tragic suicide. We also learn about one of my predecessors as the federal member for Fremantle, Reg Burchell, who not only enlisted in World War I but returned from the Western Front with a Military Cross for his bravery.

Through the chapters of Fremantle Voices of the Great War we garner a Fremantle-specific knowledge of the events and effects of the so-called Great War, and through this we can have a richer understanding of the human fabric that has made our beloved port city and our country what it is today. We see the way young Australians were spurred on to join a great effort, a great adventure, before having ground into them the gruesome waste and cruelties of the four-year campaign. We learn that for all the casualties on our side, the Turks, who were after all defending their homeland against invasion, suffered many more. And we come to see the common humanity of friend and foe alike. This reminds us that the most critical human condition is peace.

Now, with a century passed since the start of those dark years, Fremantle Voices of the Great War is a fitting testament to the service and memory of Fremantle's people. I hope that the personal histories revealed in this book and the centennial commemorations of Anzac Day inspire us always to continue working for the peaceful resolution of conflict. In the words of 10th Light Horse Regiment's Sergeant Herbert Ulrich:

I was in the thick of it often but, thank God, I came safely through. I saw many splendid young fellows pass out. It was heartbreaking, war is terrible! Pray God it may soon be over.

I extend my thanks and congratulations to Andrew Pittaway for his caring and skilful work in bringing these Fremantle voices to life.

Finally, I would like to mention that on Sunday 31 May I attended, along with around 200 other people, the South African memorial in Kings Park to commemorate the 113th anniversary of the signing of the Vereeniging Peace Accords marking the end of the Boer War. The keynote address was given by Brigadier Phil White, a military historian and Honorary Colonel of the 10th Light Horse Regiment. His theme was 'The Fathers of ANZAC,' specifically chosen in this Anzac centenary year to raise awareness of the fact that around 30 per cent of the 1st AIF were Boer War veterans and that they made a significant contribution to our national effort in the Great War.

There were an impressive number of floral tributes laid at the service, including a wreath dedicated to the horses and transportation animals sent from Australia for service in South Africa. It was thought that this could be an Australian first. The wreath was laid by Phil Sullivan of the 10th Light Horse Display Troop, along with his war-horse Gee-Jay, who remained at the left shoulder of Phil as he laid the wreath—as someone quipped, 'No doubt resisting the perfectly natural equine urge to eat the flowers tantalizingly within reach!' Gee-Jay had the traditional reversed boots in the stirrup to remind us that all six of our Victoria Crosses awarded in the Boer War involved horses.

I want to thank my constituent Kevin 'Kiwi' Bovill for his tireless work on the Boer War memorial event and in helping the veterans of many wars who may not have received the recognition and entitlements their service has merited.

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