For King and Country!

By Judy Rankin.

1916 – King George V was on the throne. The ‘war to end all wars’ was raging through Europe, and the ‘mother country’ called for more of our fit and healthy to join the ranks on the frontlines.

In Australia, famous battles at Fromelles, Gallipoli, Pozieres, Magdhaba and the Somme had all been well reported, and the losses tallied with heartbreaking effect. Tales told of heroism, tragedy, and sacrifice to defend borders from an immoral opponent for the sake of King and Country.

Heroes were emerging that would make us proud; men like Private Martin O’Meara, who risked his life repeatedly to enter ‘no man’s land’ at Pozieres and bring wounded officers and soldiers back to safety.

2015: while holidaying in the south of England, I discovered another side to our war efforts. Driving around the lush countryside exploring obscure little villages with their centuries-old churches and graveyards gave evidence to once vibrant, active communities humming with life. In the middle of horse paddocks, all but abandoned, sat churches along with ruins that once accommodated the early existence of the English monarchy – little treasures from a time long gone.

Eight miles from historic Salisbury, I stumbled across the sleepy hollow of Baverstock – little more than a quaint village with a dozen houses, a churchyard, and endless farmlands situated on the edge of the Salisbury Plains. No more obscure was to discover twenty-nine of my compatriots lying eternally in St Editha’s churchyard: ANZACs from The Great War. Many of their ‘neighbours’ – local farmers, merchants, and gentry – preceded their final resting place by hundreds of years. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. Who were these men? Why were they buried here? Were they heroes of a hard-fought battle? As I read each of the headstones, I noted most had died within a few months of each other in early 1917. Curiosity aroused, I went in search to find out who these soldiers were and why they were buried in the backwaters of Salisbury, England.

“Your Country Needs You”
By 1916, The Great War was turning out to be anything but short and sweet. In Australia, ‘Snowball marches’ designed to sign up recruits as they progressed from rural regions to the nearest capital city were in full swing. Between October 1915 and February 1916 alone, the Australian War Memorial reported nine impromptu marches, initiated by civilians, amassed able-bodied men from all walks of life to head off and join the fight: clerks, businessmen, labourers, farmers, self-employed, unemployed, fathers, sons, married, single. ‘You need to remember,’ Mike Boakes, Salisbury Museum guide and former soldier, stated, ‘back in those days people considered themselves British before they considered themselves Australian.’

While it is claimed many Australian men signed up for the adventure in the early days of World War I, there is a less romantic reality. Unemployment in Australia was relatively high. By 1916, the population was well aware of the risks of war. But the offer to be paid, clothed and fed seemed a great option. The allure of having basic human needs met was compelling.

Between a sense of duty to the empire and a ‘way out’ for others, our young, vibrant, and desperate heeded the call of the motherland and volunteered to do their bit. Many of these men, however, would not be heroes. And some would lose their life before ever seeing the battlegrounds.

“if you could walk, hold a rifle and see, you passed the medical”
The basic medical examination undertaken to ensure only those fit signed up varied depending on need. In 1914, when volunteers flooded to enlist, the minimum height requirement for soldiers was 5’6”. However, as time passed and enlistment numbers fell, so did a soldier’s minimum height to 5’3”. ‘By 1916, more often than not, if you could walk, hold a rifle and see, you passed the medical,’ said Mr Boakes.

The recruits joined battalions at training grounds located within Australia. Outside capital cities, fields and paddocks turned into camps. Tent after tent materialized with little more than the most basic of facilities.

Otway Carter, a soldier from the 29th Battalion, described his early experience at one of the new training camps*, ‘We are having a splendid time, plenty of blankets, altho the ground is like flint. Good officers tho not over much in tucker. We have our hats and boots. My boots are a size too small. We have only to get our overcoats then we will have all for the present. We have tipped the cooks 10/- a fortnight between the crowd of us we get more scran than we used to…’

Heavy winter rains soon turned the unsealed roads and dirt-floored tents in the hurriedly formed training camps to mud. Before long, the cold and wet also brought disease. ‘Inspiratory infection… assumed a prevalence that gave rise to anxiety,’ wrote A.G. Butler*.

‘Many of the enlisting men,’ stated Mr Boakes, ‘were coming from a background of poverty – jobless, homeless and broke. They would most likely have had health issues before signing up.’

The world had not seen war on a scale like this before and authorities struggled to deal with it. A.G. Butler went on to write, ‘…despite the improved hospital accommodation, deaths from pneumonia (idiopathic or associated with influenza or measles) became frequent.’

“… the outbreak assumed almost epidemic proportions…”

New epidemics began arising within the training camps and a pneumonia-like disease appeared. As meningitis swept the world, Australia was not immune. In Australia’s southern states, the camps offered the right conditions to harbour the disease. Of the illnesses affecting Australian troops between July 1915 and June 1916, the mortality rate was a staggering 42 per cent.

It would seem our nation’s young and vibrant future had a battle on their hands before they even left our shores.

Onboard the transport ships, with cramped and overcrowded conditions, the need to stay fit and healthy was paramount. Men erected improvised sports courses – climbing ship ropes, crawling under tarps, racing up and down stairs, and wriggling through life belts – not just to ward off boredom but also to try to maintain a reasonable physical state.

The camps were far from glamorous…
In mid-1916, the Australian Imperial Force (AIF) moved its Head Quarters from Egypt to London with strategic command depots in rural areas. Hurdcott House, the AIF No. 3 Command Depot, lay on the outskirts of the Salisbury Plains, where an immense military village had sprung up to house, train, and prepare recruits for the frontlines. ‘It was better for the soldiers to be based in England where they were closer to the European frontlines and could be moved about easier,’ said Mr Boakes. The camps were far from glamorous, with thousands of men on the Salisbury Plains and in the surrounding areas. ‘It was all about ‘get them in and out quickly’,’ continued Mr Boakes.

The winter of 1916/17 in the UK is recorded as the coldest of the 20th century. Basil Rackham of the Royal Naval Division commented, ‘The winter was so cold that I felt like crying … I didn’t actually cry but I’d never felt like it before, not even under shell fire…”

A standard British winter would have been a shock for many Australian soldiers. However, they had endured a miserable winter at home surrounded by disease and undertaken a difficult four to six-week sea journey, only to be presented with more cruel conditions. Military hospitals were glutted and under pressure. The conditions weakened the sick Australian recruits as they disembarked on English soil.

‘There would have been a medical facility nearby [the Australian camp at Hurdcott]. Most likely the manor house at Baverstock,’ reported Mr Boakes. However, for some recruits, it would not be enough.

Twenty-three of the twenty-nine soldiers buried at Baverstock enlisted during the Australian winter of 1916. They died from respiratory diseases before the war was over – sixteen of them never seeing the battlegrounds they had come to bolster.

Social commentators of the day were describing the war as an epic event that would alter the world forever. Our men wanted to be a part of this. However, the empire they were coming to defend was ill-equipped to prepare or protect them. The men buried at Baverstock are but a few of the ‘acceptable losses’ that left our shores never to return.

Lest we forget…
Having researched the soldiers buried at Baverstock, they all seem like typical Aussies of the time: young, country boys seeking adventure; lovable larrikins that found themselves in trouble for going AWOL – some while still on the transport ships. One found himself on report for not turning up to the 05.00 parade after a night of drinking. For another, it took three attempts, a name change and a new ‘hometown’ before finally getting his place as an ANZAC. The men buried at Baverstock represent more than just another soldier’s headstone. They represent ‘our boys’ who went to make their mark only to be denied the chance to do anything heroic or become household names like O’Meara and Simpson. Their intentions were, however, just as valiant.

So, on April 25th, let’s raise a glass to the men so easily forgotten – out of sight, out of mind. The Baverstock boys and other ‘acceptable losses’ buried in country churchyards may not have seen battle but still left a legacy. One that sees subsequent soldiers benefitting by not having to suffer the conditions and unpreparedness they did. What they endured for King and Country and contributed to our nation’s health deserves to be remembered along with our other national heroes.

* Black and Gold: The History of the 29th Battalion 1915 – 18 (1997)
* Official History of the Australian Army Medical Services 1914 – 18, Volume 1 (1930)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Judy Rankin is the author of the memoir It’s [Not] All About Liz! (2014), historical fiction novel, Catelina (2017) and middle-grade children’s novel The Land of Giant Pineapples (2021). Judy has written for MUFTI (the Victorian RSL members magazine), That’s Life magazine and From the Inside Looking Out, 2020 General Anthology. She has also appeared in New Reader Magazine 1(2) June 2018.

When not writing stories, Judy runs her own financial administration business, Surf Coast Support, looking after the accounts of small businesses and funding for NDIS participants. She also runs ‘Jaymah’, a small press and online bookstore supporting emerging writers. Judy is also attempted to finish a creative-practice PhD in Communication and Media with RMIT.