Like most Australians I have many family members who served in the Australia Military Services, particularly in World war 1 and World War 2.
Several of my ancestors were killed in World War 1. All personnel who died whilst serving in the Australian Military Services are immortalised at the Australian War Memorial, Canberra, ACT.
Just outside the War Memorial's Hall of Memory, where the remains of the Unknown Soldier rest, there is a long series of bronze panels recording the names of Australia's war dead. This is known as the Roll of Honour.
On a recent visit to the War memorial I overheard a guide say that " their are few Australian families that do not have some family member on the wall".
The Roll of Honour has become a place of pilgramage for many Australians. The panels are daily covered by paper rememberance poppies against the name of a dead serviceperson by family members.
My Great-Grand Aunt, the renowned blind activist, authour and poet, Matlida (Tilly) Ann Aston wrote in her memoirs of the trauma of war and how it affected Australian families.
The following is an extract from Tilly's memoirs:
"War and Its Clouds
During my lifetime our nation has had to face the sorrows of several wars. I was still a child when the Soudan campaign was fought, and the death of Gordon of Khartoum is just a faint memory. Then came the Boer War, and our pride in the exploits of our Australian Light Horse upon the African veld; but the reality of war's death and destruction did not dawn upon me fully, perhaps because of the fact that none of my family had reached the age for active service. But when the first world war broke over us, it was a different matter. Six of my nephews volunteered, two Aults from the home of my eldest sister at Durham Ox, two Lintons, sons of my sister Sophia, at Carisbrook, and two sons of my brother, Will.
We were proud to be so well represented, and sent our boys off with comparatively light hearts, and with our blessing and good hopes for their return crowned with the glory and honors of ultimate victory.
I was engaged in my school all through that war, and had little time for any special war work; however, we got the children knitting, even a few of the boys learning to turn out a passable sock, as well as washers and scarves, and other articles, which needed but slight supervision. My own contribution was a pair of socks a week for the whole period of the conflict.
Then shadows dimmed the bright outlook concerning our nephews. Edwin Ault and Will Linton were posted as missing-most terrible announcement of all for those who wait the return of a soldier. My sisters could not accept this as final, and they searched and searched for something more definite, hoping, dreaming, praying, longing, that the lost ones would somehow, somewhere, be found and restored to their homes again. Amelia (Mrs Ault) never settled down, never accepted the fact that her son was dead. She would write letters to any man of whom she heard that he had been in Edwin's battalion, bidding him to brush up his memory in case some trifling spark of recollection of her own lad might be rekindled. As I recall this fruitless agony of my sister my heart overflows with pity for the thousands of women who are receiving the same bitter word, "Missing," concerning their beloved soldiers of this present war.
The following is an extract from Tilly's memoirs:
"War and Its Clouds
During my lifetime our nation has had to face the sorrows of several wars. I was still a child when the Soudan campaign was fought, and the death of Gordon of Khartoum is just a faint memory. Then came the Boer War, and our pride in the exploits of our Australian Light Horse upon the African veld; but the reality of war's death and destruction did not dawn upon me fully, perhaps because of the fact that none of my family had reached the age for active service. But when the first world war broke over us, it was a different matter. Six of my nephews volunteered, two Aults from the home of my eldest sister at Durham Ox, two Lintons, sons of my sister Sophia, at Carisbrook, and two sons of my brother, Will.
We were proud to be so well represented, and sent our boys off with comparatively light hearts, and with our blessing and good hopes for their return crowned with the glory and honors of ultimate victory.
I was engaged in my school all through that war, and had little time for any special war work; however, we got the children knitting, even a few of the boys learning to turn out a passable sock, as well as washers and scarves, and other articles, which needed but slight supervision. My own contribution was a pair of socks a week for the whole period of the conflict.
Then shadows dimmed the bright outlook concerning our nephews. Edwin Ault and Will Linton were posted as missing-most terrible announcement of all for those who wait the return of a soldier. My sisters could not accept this as final, and they searched and searched for something more definite, hoping, dreaming, praying, longing, that the lost ones would somehow, somewhere, be found and restored to their homes again. Amelia (Mrs Ault) never settled down, never accepted the fact that her son was dead. She would write letters to any man of whom she heard that he had been in Edwin's battalion, bidding him to brush up his memory in case some trifling spark of recollection of her own lad might be rekindled. As I recall this fruitless agony of my sister my heart overflows with pity for the thousands of women who are receiving the same bitter word, "Missing," concerning their beloved soldiers of this present war.
Great Grand Aunt Tilly wrote two poems expressing her personal feelings to both world wars.
"A Woman To The Shrine" was very personal to Tilly as it recalls the deaths of her nephews - William (Will) Aston LINTON and Edwin Joseph AULT
"A Woman To The Shrine" was very personal to Tilly as it recalls the deaths of her nephews - William (Will) Aston LINTON and Edwin Joseph AULT
A WOMAN TO THE SHRINE
With acknowledgments to the "Woman's World"
One quenched in depth of blue Aegean Sea,
The other broken, mingled with the sod
Of ancient, sunlit, far Gallipoli,
The mortal perished, and their souls with God.
No graves are theirs where I may softly tread,
And cast a wistful glance, or drop a tear;
I cannot plant a garden o'er my dead,
Or claim a sacred spot to memory dear.
Yet, on a hill that breasts our sunny skies,
With crowning dome and stately portals wide,
The Shrine upon its lap of verdue lies,
In memory of our sons who fought and died.
These founding rocks, these pillars set apart,
These storied marbles in their sombre sheen,
All that sunk stone, the Temple's very heart-
What do this lordly Fane and Altar mean?
No piled-up vanity of human skill,
No waste of wealth, since workmen built the walls!
Only a place where love may linger still,
A pensive wanderer in its echoing halls.
And there may I and other women go
For pause to think upon our loved and lost,
This holy spot the only grave we know,
Of those who bought our peace at such a cost.
With acknowledgments to the "Woman's World"
One quenched in depth of blue Aegean Sea,
The other broken, mingled with the sod
Of ancient, sunlit, far Gallipoli,
The mortal perished, and their souls with God.
No graves are theirs where I may softly tread,
And cast a wistful glance, or drop a tear;
I cannot plant a garden o'er my dead,
Or claim a sacred spot to memory dear.
Yet, on a hill that breasts our sunny skies,
With crowning dome and stately portals wide,
The Shrine upon its lap of verdue lies,
In memory of our sons who fought and died.
These founding rocks, these pillars set apart,
These storied marbles in their sombre sheen,
All that sunk stone, the Temple's very heart-
What do this lordly Fane and Altar mean?
No piled-up vanity of human skill,
No waste of wealth, since workmen built the walls!
Only a place where love may linger still,
A pensive wanderer in its echoing halls.
And there may I and other women go
For pause to think upon our loved and lost,
This holy spot the only grave we know,
Of those who bought our peace at such a cost.
THE WIDOW
The storm had passed, the lightning sword was sheathed,
The drumming thunders that had racked her soul
Were still, and on my breast she softly breathed
The sorrow now to be her lifelong dole.
So young, so sweet, to walk the world alone!
Fair as a summer cloud, and formed to rise
On loving wings of lightest zephyr blown,
The happy child of ever-shining skies.
The clouds of dark Papua where he fought
And died, the glory of her life have quenched;
Of all her precious dreams there lingers nought
But battered hopes and memories sorrow drenched.
"Without my love," she whispered, "joy is dead!"
I pressed her hand, and kissed her shining hair-
No word of comfort was there to be said,
Only my mother instinct's silent prayer.
For years have made me wise, and taught me much,
How time assuages grief and smothers woe,
Soothing each throbbing wound with healing touch;
And I am glad, since God ordains it so.
Upon this tortured heart I dare not press
This wisdom I have won-she, too, must wait,
And win her garden from the wilderness
Left by the raging storm within her gate.
The storm had passed, the lightning sword was sheathed,
The drumming thunders that had racked her soul
Were still, and on my breast she softly breathed
The sorrow now to be her lifelong dole.
So young, so sweet, to walk the world alone!
Fair as a summer cloud, and formed to rise
On loving wings of lightest zephyr blown,
The happy child of ever-shining skies.
The clouds of dark Papua where he fought
And died, the glory of her life have quenched;
Of all her precious dreams there lingers nought
But battered hopes and memories sorrow drenched.
"Without my love," she whispered, "joy is dead!"
I pressed her hand, and kissed her shining hair-
No word of comfort was there to be said,
Only my mother instinct's silent prayer.
For years have made me wise, and taught me much,
How time assuages grief and smothers woe,
Soothing each throbbing wound with healing touch;
And I am glad, since God ordains it so.
Upon this tortured heart I dare not press
This wisdom I have won-she, too, must wait,
And win her garden from the wilderness
Left by the raging storm within her gate.
Not until years after the war had ended did anything more definite come to hand. A man who escaped the' holocaust of the landing day on Gallipoli saw Edwin surrounded by about a dozen Turks, madly laying about him with his trenching tool, and it is a foregone conclusion that he died in that hour.
Of Will Linton we also heard the end in due time. Victor Ault met, at a soldiers' reunion, a man who had been with Will in the ship as it lay off Gallipoli a few weeks after the first landing, and he said that the boat in which the company was being thrust ashore was shelled and sunk, and that our young kinsman was one of those who did not reach the beach, but was drowned in the blue Aegean Sea.
The story of Arthur was another affair. He was in the twelfth Field Ambulance on service in France. When I was on a cruise up north, I met a gentleman who had been a member of Arthur's unit, and he gave me some particulars about him. My nephew had been sharing in the conduct and production of the regimental paper, and had written some very lively articles for the magazine. Before his enlistment he had begun to do little freelance jobs, and showed more than usual promise in this field. The blow came in an action near Ypres, I think it was. They were bringing in the wounded and a shell exploded far too near. He died of his injuries next morning, sending loving messages of triumphant courage to his father and mother, which were forwarded in a letter from his superior officer. He was buried in one of the war cemeteries in France-the only one of our three lost boys who has a known grave. Whenever I visit the Shrine of Remembrance here I feel that this beautiful and solemn edifice belongs to me, since it is the place where I can grow pensive, thinking of my kinsmen and their sacrifices for me and the other women of Australia."
(Kingston)
one other in advance. I managed to stick to some of the chaps until we were in sight of the Turkish trenches. By this time the bullets were flying around pretty thickly. Men were getting knocked terribly. We were ordered to advance to our objective and this we did, every third man going and the rest followed on. Of course, we were all terribly excited by this, and seeing our pals knocked, we were very much after the Turks. Snipers wre abounding and firing all round us and the last I saw of Ted was rushing forward brandishing an axe and shouting like mad. I lost him then and later that afternoon we all had to retire. We were forced to leave the dead and, if we could, manage to bring any wounded. I made enquiries about Ted, but no one seemed to know anything about him, so I decide he was getting back with the rest and hoped to see him later. We dug in all night and no trace of Ted. Had seen Court of Inquiry Report, surmised that Ted was fatally wounded."
one other in advance. I managed to stick to some of the chaps until we were in sight of the Turkish trenches. By this time the bullets were flying around pretty thickly. Men were getting knocked terribly. We were ordered to advance to our objective and this we did, every third man going and the rest followed on. Of course, we were all terribly excited by this, and seeing our pals knocked, we were very much after the Turks. Snipers wre abounding and firing all round us and the last I saw of Ted was rushing forward brandishing an axe and shouting like mad. I lost him then and later that afternoon we all had to retire. We were forced to leave the dead and, if we could, manage to bring any wounded. I made enquiries about Ted, but no one seemed to know anything about him, so I decide he was getting back with the rest and hoped to see him later. We dug in all night and no trace of Ted. Had seen Court of Inquiry Report, surmised that Ted was fatally wounded."
**
We ourselves have copies of evidence in Court of Inquiry. All soldiers say that our son was reported wounded 10.6.15, he must have been at a dressing station. November 1915 he was reported wounded and missing, also unofficially reported killed, Aust. Red Cross.
The matter of being at a dressing station gave us hope, that our son would at least be found in some hospital, perhaps disoriented. I enquired from Mont Park, Victoria.
Hoping that this may prove helpful.
I remain
Yours sincerely
Charlotte Amelia Ault (Mother)
PS. We have often thought that our son was buried probably in the 4 hours armistice by the Turks who were said to have our ??????
The matter of being at a dressing station gave us hope, that our son would at least be found in some hospital, perhaps disoriented. I enquired from Mont Park, Victoria.
Hoping that this may prove helpful.
I remain
Yours sincerely
Charlotte Amelia Ault (Mother)
PS. We have often thought that our son was buried probably in the 4 hours armistice by the Turks who were said to have our ??????
Clayton's statement.
"As you know I was in the landing on the peninsular and the 3rd morning I went and found the 7th Battn. And asked after all my old friends. Jack Malcolm and Ted were then missing. The last, I think, ever seen of Ted was by Dick Davies (7th B) and Bob Bennett (7th). Both told me personally that after the first shock and charge had waned Ted was well in front. The 7th was ordered to retreat back to a position and dig in. At roll call Ted was missing either captured or killed by a shell, nobody knows. I think it quite possible he may be a prisoner in Turkey".
"As you know I was in the landing on the peninsular and the 3rd morning I went and found the 7th Battn. And asked after all my old friends. Jack Malcolm and Ted were then missing. The last, I think, ever seen of Ted was by Dick Davies (7th B) and Bob Bennett (7th). Both told me personally that after the first shock and charge had waned Ted was well in front. The 7th was ordered to retreat back to a position and dig in. At roll call Ted was missing either captured or killed by a shell, nobody knows. I think it quite possible he may be a prisoner in Turkey".
**
Sergeant Olsen (7th) about 15.11.15
Stated that when he (Olsen) got a bullet in his leg, following shot on ear and shrapnel in back he left Ted and others in a "tight corner" from which he supposed they would never escape. This was, he says, over 2 miles from beach. Just after 5pm an order was heard of "cease fire or retire" - this was confirmed since by Olsen, verbally to myself in Feb 1920.
Stated that when he (Olsen) got a bullet in his leg, following shot on ear and shrapnel in back he left Ted and others in a "tight corner" from which he supposed they would never escape. This was, he says, over 2 miles from beach. Just after 5pm an order was heard of "cease fire or retire" - this was confirmed since by Olsen, verbally to myself in Feb 1920.
**
Statement received by me from
Pte Kingsley (7th), London in Oct 1916
This was an ex-trainee of our son at Bendigo in 1911.
"When we reached Anzac we landed with the first crowd early that fateful morning. In the mad rush everyone was everywhere and the first thing we did was to sling our packs away. Then we all rushed over that first ridge without sustaining a casualty. Our platoon (Sgts Ault and Olsen) then formed up in the shelter of the next hill. I then saw Ted, and the Colonel ordered us ahead. We formed into single file and advanced right up to the extreme right flank. The undergrowth was very thick and the going was terribly hard and the shrapnel was fairly thick. By this time all the units were getting mixed up, and we began to lose
Pte Kingsley (7th), London in Oct 1916
This was an ex-trainee of our son at Bendigo in 1911.
"When we reached Anzac we landed with the first crowd early that fateful morning. In the mad rush everyone was everywhere and the first thing we did was to sling our packs away. Then we all rushed over that first ridge without sustaining a casualty. Our platoon (Sgts Ault and Olsen) then formed up in the shelter of the next hill. I then saw Ted, and the Colonel ordered us ahead. We formed into single file and advanced right up to the extreme right flank. The undergrowth was very thick and the going was terribly hard and the shrapnel was fairly thick. By this time all the units were getting mixed up, and we began to lose
Mrs J A Ault
Durham Ox
July 6, 21
Durham Ox
July 6, 21
Dear Sir
Mrs P. H. Ault, Kerang, widow of my son Sergeant Ault has sent to us a form from you which she thinks we can fill in more satisfactorily than she can because we have gone to a great deal of trouble in following up every clue which reached us concerting the fate of Sergt. Ault. With so many reports given to us we have never found a man who can say for certain that he doed. Many professed to have seen him rush towards the Turkish trenches at evening on the landing day 25.4.15 but on being pressed, non would be willing to make a positive assertion. The general opinion seems tom have been that Sergt. Ault went off in a frenzy and never returned. No one has ever said that he had seen our son after 5pm on landing day. Neither we or our son's widow have had any letter or card from him since. I have written many letters of enquiry, some even to prisoner camps in Asia Minor. We have tried through Aust. Red Cross and through General red Cross and I think another European Red Cross. I wrote to Methodist Chaplin at Malta and to same at Mont Park without success. Hearing of "frenzy" has made us feel that our son may have lived demented and unidentified over there. I will give you a statement of dates connected with our enquiries as well as copies of letters bearing on the point. The last we heard was that a soldier Clayton of Kerang had seen our son die on 25.4.15. I wrote at once in Oct 1920 to Clayton whose statement was (over)
Mrs P. H. Ault, Kerang, widow of my son Sergeant Ault has sent to us a form from you which she thinks we can fill in more satisfactorily than she can because we have gone to a great deal of trouble in following up every clue which reached us concerting the fate of Sergt. Ault. With so many reports given to us we have never found a man who can say for certain that he doed. Many professed to have seen him rush towards the Turkish trenches at evening on the landing day 25.4.15 but on being pressed, non would be willing to make a positive assertion. The general opinion seems tom have been that Sergt. Ault went off in a frenzy and never returned. No one has ever said that he had seen our son after 5pm on landing day. Neither we or our son's widow have had any letter or card from him since. I have written many letters of enquiry, some even to prisoner camps in Asia Minor. We have tried through Aust. Red Cross and through General red Cross and I think another European Red Cross. I wrote to Methodist Chaplin at Malta and to same at Mont Park without success. Hearing of "frenzy" has made us feel that our son may have lived demented and unidentified over there. I will give you a statement of dates connected with our enquiries as well as copies of letters bearing on the point. The last we heard was that a soldier Clayton of Kerang had seen our son die on 25.4.15. I wrote at once in Oct 1920 to Clayton whose statement was (over)