“Ye are brothers! Ye are men!”
These words adorn the Roll of Honour at the historic Queanbeyan Public School (QPS), commemorating 126 former students that served in the “Great War”, 28 of which fell.
Despite the fact early recruits were required to be at least 21, they could sign up from the age of 18 with parental consent. And with or without it, thousands would. Plenty much younger, also.
In reality then, many were barely men; often, little more than boys. Boys from country towns like Queanbeyan, any number of whom had probably never ventured much further than from where they'd grown up.
Brothers though, they certainly were - not only in arms, but with distressingly high frequency, in actuality. And as ANZAC Day approaches, the impact of this at a more intimate level deserves reflection.
While much has been written on WWI over the last four years, 2019 is the centenary of the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, officially heralding peace (not just ceasefire) - most memorials bear the inscription 1914-1919 – and when those who remained came home. It's also a poignant time to think on those who didn't.
Almost 420,000 Australians enlisted from a national total of just shy of five million, constituting some 40% of the eligible male population. Of course, with two failed attempts to introduce conscription, all were volunteers - a goodly proportion willing; others, dutiful.
Nearly exactly half that number are thought to have been killed or maimed, physically and otherwise (according to David Noonan of the University of Melbourne, figures are vastly understated when it comes to injury and illness).
Barely an individual throughout the nation wouldn't have been personally affected to some degree. However, there were those for whom the price was so high as to be difficult to comprehend how it could be borne.
Obviously, in those small towns and villages where everyone knew everyone, signing up with cousins, nephews, uncles – even your father – was far from unusual.
With residents numbering only around 2,500 in the Queanbeyan, and by then, Canberra, region, potentially up to 120 families sent more than one of their own to fight half way round the world for a cause they were not always entirely sure of. In some cases, it was all of the males under one roof.
A wider known example of such familial tales include descendants of grazier John Single of Castlereagh in NSW. Thirty-three went to war. Nine were killed - three of them on the same day.
The Leanes of Adelaide too, described as “the most famous family of soldiers in Australian history”. Five brothers and six of their sons. Four of them died.
Closer to home, the Southwells, one of Queanbeyan's earliest pioneering names, had as many as 10 go to war, four lots of which were brothers. One was killed: Malcolm, near Gueudecourt, France, in 1916; hit in the head by a fragment of shell as he went to fill his water bottle.
Potentially up to 30 sets of siblings from this locality signed up – and not all brothers. Of those QPS recruits, there were 13 pairs of brothers and five families – the Hincksmans, Richardsons, Robertsons, Bingleys, and the Feagans - sent three sons each.
One of Queanbeyan's first to fall was the younger of the two Bale brothers. Harry was mortally wounded at Anzac Cove, Gallipoli, on the 27th August, 1915 – the same day that Alexander Feagan was killed. Alex's older brother, William, would also die, on the 27th September, 1917.
Records suggest more than 2800 groups of siblings were lost to the greater war effort.
Along with the Feagans, two boys each of the Beattys, the Mayos, the Richardsons and the Fords died. George Ford would pass away from bronchopneumonia on Boxing Day, 1915, before even setting sail for battle.
Out at Bungendore, there's a Champion Lane, named for three brothers, sons of the Reverend Champion. Two were killed in action on the Western Front, their graves originally recorded as unknown.
In 2003, a French farmer unearthed the remains of four soldiers, left where they'd fallen. One of them was revealed to be Lieutenant Christopher Henry Duncan Champion, who died on April 14, 1918, at the age of 25. All four were buried with full military honours.
And then there were three Gallaghers, also of Bungendore: sisters Flora and Evelyn who signed up for the nursing corps with their cousin, Janet. All came home.
There are a number of Australian instances of as many as six brothers serving, such as the Keids of Queensland, of whom four would not return. And an apparently singular situation of eight – the Handcocks of Queensland - seven of whom survived.
The heaviest personal toll was that of Frederick and Maggie Smith, a couple from a tiny South Australian hamlet. Seven of their boys enlisted, the two youngest using false names to avoid the need for consent.
Only one would come back to them: the eldest, Francis. Tragically, he'd die upon falling under a tram just a few years later.
In the face of such devastation there were though, stories to buoy a nation bereft.
In Queanbeyan, the Dawsons also sent seven sons to war. While statistically approximately one in five Australians died during this time, incredibly, each of them came home.
Fronting QPS, a corresponding number of trees were first planted in 1936 for those one-time students lost. Known as the “Avenue of Memory”, it's a living memorial that continues to honour those who didn't grow old or wearied as much as those who did.
From a personal point of view, as a mother with sons of an age that meant they could have marched off just over one hundred years ago, to imagine those women waving their men goodbye – pride inevitably conflicting with dread - brings into stark relief the true sacrifice of not only those who served, and others who laid down their lives, but entire communities too, during and long after.
Lest we forget.
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