29/08/2026
Tommy Copperwaite was a good kid; one of the best. He wasn’t destined to change the world, but he had the makings of a good life ahead of him. Then the world went to war.
The Copperwaite family was amongst those chosen to build the Australian population. John Copperwaite and his wife, Deliah Charles, (Tommy’s great-grandparents) were brought to New South Wales as assisted immigrants; they arrived in Sydney, with their baby son, John Thomas (Tommy’s grandfather), on 11 November 1853.
Although the Copperwaite surname had its origins in northern England, developing during the Medieval period, this particular family had a long ancestral links to the southern counties. While John Thomas Copperwaite was born at Hitchin in Hertfordshire (his mother was from Great Wymondley, just southeast of Hitchin), many of Tommy’s ancestors came from the neighbouring county of Bedfordshire, particularly Clifton on the River Ivel, (about 10-miles southeast of Bedford and 4-miles northwest of Hitchin), and Shillington at the northern edge of the Chiltern Hills.
Interestingly, Copperwaite is a dialectal variant of the English locational name Cowperthwaite – a long-lost historic village in Yorkshire, and was found in that county, along with neighbouring Lancashire and Westmorland (Cumbria). When combined, the Old English “coupere” and the Norse variant “thwaite” translates to the clearing or enclosure for the cooper (maker or repairer of barrels and buckets). However, it can be argued it closely resembles the Old English “copp” or hill top, which, when attached to “thwaite” means small hill top farm. Whatever its origins, globally the name of Copperwaite is extremely rare.
After their arrival in 1853, John and Deliah Copperwaite soon made their way to Victoria, reaching Ballarat (via Indented Head) around 1855. Initially they lived on the diggings at Carngham, which was then experiencing a major gold rush, before moving to Buninyong and then to Stony Rises near Meredith.
Following Deliah’s very early death on 21 July 1866, the family moved back to Ballarat. It was at St Andrew’s Kirk that John Thomas Copperwaite married Catherine Adcock Brudenell on 21 October 1873. Although Catherine was born at Geelong, her family came from Edenham in Lincolnshire. Her father, Thomas Adcock (an 18-year-old farm labourer) arrived in Sydney on 27 May 1848; he could neither read nor write. The adoption of the Brudenell surname implies links to a prominent noble family, but there is nothing available to confirm any connection.
The young couple set up home at Mount Doran, then a hive of quartz and alluvial gold mining activity. Tommy’s father was born there in 1876. John Thomas Copperwaite junior also became a miner and eventually found work on the Beaufort-Waterloo Lead system. It was at Beaufort that he met the woman who would become his wife.
Elizabeth Nothnagel was the youngest child of German immigrants, Jacob Nothnagel and Catherine Reuter. The Nothnagels were a predominantly South German family, and Jacob was born in the town of Griesheim. His wife came from the small village of Nieder-Weisel; both places were located in the German state of Hesse.
So, when Thomas Valentine Copperwaite was born at Ballarat on 7 October 1897, he inherited a very rich and slightly more unusual parcel of ancestors. Whilst his English surname would later protect him against anti-German sentiment, he would have grown up being very aware of his German heritage – especially through contact with his very German grandparents, who lived at Beaufort.
Tommy was John and Elizabeth’s first-born, and one of an eventual four sons. He was named after Elizabeth’s much-loved older brother, Valentine Nothnagel. His birth was followed by Jack on 5 March 1900, Alfie on 14 May 1905, and finally Roy on 12 April 1911. The long gaps between each birth appears to indicate some difficulties in conceiving or carrying pregnancies to term, or perhaps John and Elizabeth prescribed to the major historical Western fertility transition that saw families manage the arrival of children. However, as a result of these substantial gaps, Tommy was very much the “big brother.”
During these early years, the Copperwaite family lived at 203 Cobden Street in Mount Pleasant. The house, sitting on the hilly ridge that overlooks Ballarat, was named “Sandhill.” John Copperwaite was employed as a quartz crushing battery manager for one of the large gold mines nearby. Despite the ravages of the 1890s economic depression, John earned a very good wage that allowed his growing family to enjoy a comfortable, middle-class existence.
Although the Mount Pleasant State School was just a short walk up the hill, Tommy began his education receiving private tuition. At the beginning of term three in 1903, he was enrolled in Grade I at Urquhart Street State School. He also attended the Pleasant Street school before transferring to the smaller school at Redan. Records show that Urquhart Street, which was at the heart of a heavily populated area of Ballarat, was designated the status of a First-Class School. Dwindling enrolment at Redan saw authorities merge the school with the Sebastopol State School to alleviate costs. At Redan, Tommy joined his uncle, Artie Copperwaite (his father’s youngest brother), who was just completing his schooling.
Tommy was a boy who enjoyed lots of activity. When he was 11, he joined the local Boy Scouts. The brain child of Robert Baden-Powell, famed as the garrison commander and commandant during the Siege of Mafeking, the Scout movement was in its infancy in Australia, but was growing rapidly. Boys like Tommy Copperwaite thrived on the outdoor training and physical discipline. The local troops were attached to schools, church groups and organisations like the YMCA. Young Tommy was part of the troop organised at the Redan State School. Among Tommy’s mates in the Scouts were Norman Campbell Carmichael, Norman Flockhart, the Brittain brothers, Harry and Will, Les Rowe, Wallie Hicks (q.v.), Alf Granland and David McGrath – all who would eventually join the AIF.
The boys would take part in annual camping trips to Lal Lal and were rewarded for their work with badges presented at formal events. On 21 May 1910, the local Scout troops gathered at the Alfred Hall where more than 150 Scouts were presented with their badges – so many of these boys, including Tommy Copperwaite, would soon become soldiers.
Like many members of his family, Tommy also enjoyed sport and was considered a ‘good all-round athlete’ who was well-known amongst Ballarat’s athletic fraternity. His uncles, Alf and Artie Copperwaite, were top local boxers. Alf in particular had achieved a degree of fame as a champion featherweight – he was regarded as the ‘Ballarat crack in his class’ and won contests around Australia. However, in September 1910, he took to the ring against Henry “Soldier” Rogers at Ballarat’s Her Majesty’s Theatre. (Having spent many years on the stage in this theatre, it is impossible to image the venue being used for boxing matches!) The fight was over a long 20-rounds and was for a purse of 40 sovereigns – roughly half a year’s wages for the average working-class family.
“Soldier” Rogers was regarded by boxing experts as having a ‘very poor physique,’ but he was ‘extremely game.’ Apparently medical men watching him box believed he was not really suited to the extreme physicality of the sport. Despite that, Rogers had won numerous contests and was ‘right amongst the first rank of feather weights.’ On this occasion, however, it seems that Rogers was also sick with pleurisy.
In the 18th round, Alf knocked Rogers out with a solid right punch. He was taken to the Ballarat Hospital, where he died from a brain haemorrhage two hours later. As can be imagined, Alf Copperwaite was deeply distressed when his adversary was removed from the theatre to the hospital, and at 12 o'clock, when his death was reported from the institution, he almost collapsed with grief, and said, that he would have forfeited anything rather than that such a tragedy should have occurred.
There can be no doubt that this misfortune would have affected the entire Copperwaite family. At the time, Tommy was 13, a deeply impressionable age.
In 1912, with his education completed, Tommy secured an apprenticeship as a fitter at Ballarat foundry Cowley’s Eureka Ironworks. The firm had recently been purchased by well-known businessman and metalworker, M. B. John. The term of the agreement for Tommy’s training was four years.
The move to a new home at 615 Windermere Street south, had an immediate impact on Tommy. Cowley’s foundry was in Rodier Street, Ballarat East, where it made use of the railway line that ran through to the township of Buninyong. Travelling by bicycle or “Shank’s pony,” Tommy would have probably stuck to the main roadways of Grant and York Streets to cross through to Ballarat East. There and back, he covered over five-miles daily. This was all well and good on a lovely sunny day, but hot work in the middle of summer and even worse during a miserable wet Ballarat winter.
Because of his age, Tommy was amongst the cohort directly involved in the introduction of the Universal Training Scheme that made military service compulsory for boys aged from 12 to 18. From the school cadets, Tommy graduated to the Senior Cadets belonging to the 71st Infantry Regiment. His commanding officer was Boer War veteran, Captain (later Lieutenant-Colonel) Graham Coulter.
When war was declared, Tommy Copperwaite was still just 16. Being the eldest son, he was not forced to watch his brothers don the colours, but all around him the boys he grew up with and the men who were his neighbours were doing just that.
Somebody said that Tommy had grown into a ‘fine strapping youth,’ however, he was still only 5-foot 5-¾ inches tall. Yes, he still had some growing to do, but that still left him shorter than average. It may simply have been in the way he carried himself… So, even though he was just 17, Tommy seemingly had no trouble impressing the recruiting sergeant at Ballarat West when he walked in on 29 March 1915. He was sent through to Doctor Archibald Brown Campbell, who was the medical officer responsible for checking recruits for any defects that would impact effectiveness on active service and making sure they met the minimum requirements.
In appearance, Tommy Copperwaite was a good-looking lad with very dark colouring – dark skin, brown eyes and dark brown hair. Doctor Campbell noted a scar on his left cheek. In the process, he told them he was nearly 18 and a half – just adding a year, but being under 21, he still needed to gain his parent’s permission. Despite not already having secured that permission, those taking in the paperwork that day seemed to have no qualms about proceeding. Tommy took the oath of service –
‘I, Thomas Copperwaite, swear that I will well and truly serve our Sovereign Lord the King in the Australian Imperial Force from 7/4/15 until the end of the War, and a further period of four months thereafter unless sooner lawfully discharged, dismissed, or removed therefrom; and that I will resist His Majesty’s enemies and cause His Majesty’s peace to be kept and maintained; and that I will in all matters appertaining to my service faithfully discharge my duty according to law. SO HELP ME, GOD.’
Tommy then signed “T. Copperwaite” in a neat, if immature hand, in the appropriate spaces.
It took a few days, but eventually Tommy gained the necessary consent. As only his mother signed, it is easy to imagine that his father was less than impressed with Tommy’s endeavour. Given the wording of her note, it seems that Elizabeth Copperwaite was also attempting to put a safety clause over the process by stipulating that he be assigned to the engineers. A commonly held misconception being that an engineer was somehow safer than being with the infantry.
‘…Dear Sir, I allow my son Thomas to join the Expeditionary Force, as Engineer…’
(It was signed and dated 6 April 1915).
Interestingly, Tommy then named his father as his next-of-kin.
As a member of the local infantry, Tommy was required to return to any borrowed equipment. Before leaving for Melbourne, he dropped off his belt, pouch and numeral at the Drill Hall in Curtis Street. He reported to the Sturt Street Depot in St Kilda on 8 April, where he received orders to proceed to the camp at Broadmeadows. A month later he received his official posting as private, number 348, to B Company of the original 21st Infantry Battalion.
On 8 May, the men of the 21st boarded HMAT Ulysses at Port Melbourne. The following letter gives an evocative description of the scenes that day; it was written by a woman whose son was also in B Company. It seems likely that she was the mother of Thomas Abraham Saxon from Euroa.
‘…At six o'clock in the morning my little daughter and myself arrived at the Port Melbourne Town
pier. It was a cold, raw, foggy morning, and was scarcely daylight at that hour. We proved be the advance guard of thousands upon thousands of people who assembled there later in the day.
We knew the troops were coming but did not know the exact time so we got there early. Well, at about eight o'clock, the advance guard of the 21st battalion arrived (the other, advance guard came in on Friday.) The crowds commenced to gather, and every train that arrived at the station brought full loads of passengers, came in previously.
At ten o'clock the first troop train arrived. It was taken down onto the railway pier and unloaded. Two troopers, on magnificent white horses, tried to keep away clear. They succeeded for awhile,
and the soldiers came on four abreast, but when anyone in the waiting crowd caught sight of their own particular soldiers they just rushed in and clung to them, marching along with them to the barriers at the end of the pier. They could get no farther, and had to let their loved ones go, mid tears and sobs.
As each train arrived the crowd closed in again until the soldiers could only get three abreast. This kept on till 12 o'clock, when a kindly policeman (who had noticed my girl and myself there since early morning), came to me and told me that there would be no more troop trains in until 2 o'clock. I was very thankful to that policeman, as I then felt at liberty to go and have some dinner (we had had no breakfast.)
At 2 o'clock the train arrived bringing the 21st battalion (in which were the Euroa boys, or most of them). My boy was in B Company, and after waiting eight, hours I missed seeing him, and was terribly disappointed. The only Euroa boys I saw were Arthur Morgan, Bert Bradford & Leo Leonard. Of course I had a farewell word or two with them.
The people by this time pressed in so close that the soldiers were coming in only in couples, and later on they could only get along in single file, as the police were powerless to keep the crowd back. I saw a policeman's horse lash out and a man and two women were kicked. I heard that the man and one of the women were killed, but I cannot vouch for the truth of it. They were taken in an ambulance.
The last 200 or 300 soldiers had to run to get in before the gates closed on the crowd who rushed the pier. The mounted police and armed guard with fixed bayonets were alike powerless to keep them back but they were stopped at the gates. We went on to the sand and watched the boats. We waited till we could scarcely see; then, at about 6 o'clock, the gates were opened, and we were allowed on the pier. We called out the name of the Euroa boys and called out "Euroa," but could not hear for the noise. The boys were singing 'Good-bye Melbourne Town,' 'Australia will be There,' 'Soldiers of the King,' and the world-famed 'Tipperary.'
As the boat moved out from the pier the big paper streamers snapped, and it seemed as if the last links were broken. Then it was that we felt the pangs of parting, and many if not all of us, prayed that God would protect our dear brave lads on the water and those at the front, and bring them safely to the hearts and homes of those who love and are proud of them. One poor mother, who had a cataract in one eye, was eagerly watching for her son. She just caught sight of him, when she went quite blind. It is to be hoped that the blindness will not be permanent.
The scenes all along from the station to the pier. were heartrending. Mothers, sisters, sweethearts, and even fathers and brothers, were sobbing (and no shame in them for it.) Girls and women were fainting everywhere. Nearly every soldier had some loved one clinging to them (sometimes three or four), and it was pitiful to see the soldier fathers, with tears in their own eyes, carrying their babies, as well as their already heavy loads. It is such scenes as these that bring this awful war close to our homes, when we have to let our loved ones go, but we are proud of the name our boys have made, which no one can take from them-one that will go down through history - the honoured name of Australia's sons.
God bless them all!...’
(Although Tom Saxon would survive the war, his brothers, Joe and Bert “Punkin” Saxon did not).
After reaching Egypt, the 21st Battalion was sent to the Aerodrome Camp just outside the city of Heliopolis, which would be their base for the next three months. Tommy and the rest of the unit then underwent intense desert training on the sandy plains and hills around the camp. They focussed on tactical exercises and manoeuvres, signalling, marches and rifle practice, whilst also enjoying the fascinations of Cairo and the surrounding historic sites, which they explored with gusto.
However, they were also very aware of the campaign that was being fought some 700-miles away at Gallipoli. They were keen to have a crack at “Johnny Turk” and made no bones about it.
Finally, things started moving, and on 29 August they boarded the transport Southland to begin the long, dangerous voyage through to Lemnos.
For those have followed my stories covering the men of the 21st Battalion, the name Southland will seem immediately familiar. And Ballarat has an intrinsic link to that ill-fated ship. On 2 September, just 30-miles from Lemnos, near the island of Agios, as the Southland made her way across the icy Aegean, she was struck by a torpedo fired from the German submarine UB-14.
Although near total tragedy was narrowly averted, it was the calmness of the reaction by those onboard that almost completely saved the day. Yes, 40 souls were lost, but there were more than 1400 troops and crew onboard. Captain James Kelk, whose quick call of “hard astern” slowed the ship enough to prevent the torpedo hitting the engine room and boilers, was the initial hero. His powerful example of coolness under pressure spread rapidly through the foundering ship.
It was a day of remarkable bravery, skill and luck – both good and bad. And there can be no doubt that a frisson of fear was felt by all onboard, including 17-year-old Tommy Copperwaite. However, the bravery of two Ballarat officers, Joseph William Pearch (q.v.) and Nelson Wellington (q.v.) helped to quell the anxiety. While the dramatic rescue was underway, the pair led a skeleton team of men, who volunteered to go below to stoke the boilers of the Southland, enabling the ship to be guided through to Lemnos, where she was beached at Mudros. Billy Pearce was, at that point, Tommy Copperwaite’s commanding officer.
The men were picked up by a mix of ships that raced to the scene and transported through to Lemnos. Disrupted, but undeterred, they were soon on their way to Gallipoli, landing at ANZAC Cove late on 7 September.
The 21st Battalion arrived too late to take part in the disastrous August offensive and it was later suggested that they had a quiet time on the peninsula. No doubt the men themselves would have argued the toss… ‘Despite the most rigorous sanitary precautions,’ the greatest threat to the men was enteric fever and dysentery. Tommy Copperwaite managed to avoid getting sick and stayed out of range of the Turkish snipers. On 7 October, he celebrated his 18th birthday probably with the usual bully beef and biscuits, some plum and apple jam, and a mug of hot tea sweetened with condensed milk. He ‘never had a leave off’ during the more than three months they spent patrolling the trenches at Lone Pine along the lip of Monash Valley, and his father was later told that Tommy ‘was one of Captain Pearce’s best.’
Arrangements for the evacuation of Gallipoli were announced on 17 December, but actual preparations had been underway for some time. For their part, the men of the 21st spent time burying stores and dumping ammunition into latrines. What could not be carried was either destroyed or made useless. The last party of the battalion left the trenches at 2am on 19 December, with Tommy Copperwaite said to have been amongst the last to leave.
It was truly remarkable that such a complex operation was carried out without casualties. Although, legend has it that one man broke a finger punching a man whose noise threatened to alert the enemy and derail the whole affair.
Whilst some of the 21st Battalion were shipped straight back to Egypt, the majority of the men stayed on Lemnos. Tommy got to spend his first Christmas away from home on a Greek island, but he wasn’t alone. The people back in Australia had also done their part to ensure that part of home was sent to the boys. Christmas billies chock-full of goodies were despatched to Lemnos and the day passed with a degree of merriment.
Early in the New Year, Tommy boarded the transport Ascanius at Mudros and began the trip back to Egypt. He landed at Alexandria on 7 January.
Just a month later, Tommy found himself in a spot of bother: on 13 February when the roll was called, he was found to be absent. Three days later he was charged with “breaking camp” – having gone beyond the bounds of the camp’s designated area without a pass or reason for doing so. He was awarded two days of Field Punishment (number two); his character, however, was described as ‘very good.’
Their time in the Canal Zone was busy, and included constructing a light railway, completing trenches, dugouts, and installing barbed wire entanglements, along with the usual military drilling, route marches, musketry practice and attack training. So, there was little hint that the 21st was going to be amongst the earliest Australian units to transfer to France.
The 18 March was extremely busy: in the midst of packing kit and equipment, the men were inspected by the Prince of Wales, and General William Birdwood. For young men imbued with the ethos of royalty, seeing Prince Edward up close would have been a special moment. He was viewed with great fondness, often referred to as the “Digger Prince.” Nonetheless, many were surprised by his small, boyish appearance.
At 2:35 the following morning, the men left Moascar on a train bound for Alexandria. Don’t for a minute think that they travelled in style – there were no passenger carriages that offered even a modicum of comfort. The trip was made in open-air cattle trucks and the men bounced around ‘like peas on a shovel.’ No doubt Tommy Copperwaite, even with the cushion of his kit bag, was very glad when the train reached its destination nearly 23-hours later. They were immediately loaded onboard HMT Minnewaska and issued with lifebelts. For those who had survived the Southland, it must have brought forth a variety of emotions; it was all a case of, “here we go again.”
Other than the jarring shock of the submarine alarm for a practice drill (with all men falling in at lifeboat stations) the voyage went off without incident and they reached Marseilles at 4:30pm on 24 March.
The 21st Battalion had been designated billets in the hamlet of Glomenghem near Aire-sur-la-Lys in the far north of France. Aire was reached at 3:45pm on 27 March, after another less than commodious boxcar train trip.
When the 21st Battalion took over a sub-section of firing line and support trenches forward of Fleurbaix late on 7 April, they became the first Australian unit to begin active operations on the Western Front.
Although the area around Armentieres was considered a nursery sector, it was not without danger and the battalion suffered its first casualties before the month was out.
Tommy began the month of May in billets at Jesus Farm – despite its religiosity, the men did not attempt to give the farm near Erquinghem a nickname. While Jesus Farm already sounded English enough and did not require much tweaking, nearby towns were aggressively renamed – Étaples became “Eat Apples,” Ypres became “Wipers,” Ploegsteert was known simply as “Plugstreet,” while Goderwaersvelde was changed to “Gertie-wears-velvet.” The boys learned to keep their heads down, listen for the sounds of incoming shells and the terrifying gas alarms. But, for the most part they just got on with the job of holding the line.
Seemingly a world away, back in Beaufort on 21 May, Tommy’s 81-year-old grandfather, Jacob Nothnagel, took his last breath. The old man had been deteriorating for some time, and had been battling dementia and heart disease, so it was not unexpected. But, for the family, the links were beginning to break…
When the Battle of the Somme, launched on 1 July, failed to bring any strategic breakthrough, the fighting devolved into a war of attrition. Australian troops were sacrificed as a distraction at Fromelles – the single most senseless, unnecessary, tragic loss of life in our country’s history – before it was decided to pull the remaining divisions into the wider conflict on the Somme. The Battle of Pozieres was launched 23 July, beginning a six-week struggle that cost the AIF 23,000 casualties, with 6,800 dead. The 21st Battalion reached what little remained of Pozieres on 28 July.
It was a chaotic time and every day the casualties mounted, with multiple members of the 21st falling every day. The unit was held in reserve when the 22nd, 23rd and 24th Battalions attacked the positions known as Old German 1 and 2 on the night of the 4/5 August. They were relieved on 6 August after nine long days in the frontline.
After bivouacking at Tara Hill outside Albert, the battalion route marched to billets at Warloy-Baillon. Being little more than 15-kilometres from Pozieres, the sound of battle was well within earshot and Tommy would have been lulled to sleep with the constant thrump of the guns.
While most of the battalion continued to rest, B Company was detailed for salvage work early on 10 August. In the afternoon, the men marched through to the small rural village of La Vicogne. During the march, Tommy had his second brush with royalty, when King George V (accompanied by the Prince of Wales), made a brief inspection of the troops.
They marched on to Bertaucourt-les-Dames, where they spent the next week. The respite was brief, however, and the men were kept hard at work training for the upcoming battle, with manoeuvres including a night attack on mock trenches.
The 21st returned to Albert late on 21 August. Tommy and his mates would have all noted that the “diving virgin,” who the Australians had christened “Fanny Durack,” was still hanging onto the ruins of the Albert Basilica, so the war was (as legend had it) destined to continue. Reconnaissance was made the next day of trenches held by several Australian battalions; the map reference was ominous: Ferme de Mouquet – the German stronghold of Mouquet Farm.
Back in the line, the men worked at deepening and improving the trenches, and patrols reconnoitred the area testing the strength of the German line in preparation for the planned attack.
At 4:45am on 26 August, A and B Companies, plus two platoons from C and D, attacked enemy positions at Mouquet Farm; these were identified as posts 54, 77 and 27. Leading V platoon of B Company against post 54, was 24-year-old Captain Oscar Anglesey Jones. A policeman in civilian life, Jones, accompanied by seven of his best men, successfully reached and manned some craters near Zig Zag Trench.
‘In the thick of the fight’ with Jones were George Geoffrey Moore, Corporals Ben Esposito and Arthur Hortin, Sergeant Lance-Corporal John Vanwell Karran and Privates Tommy Copperwaite, William Alexander Fahey, and Clifford Bernard Holt.
When the Germans counter-attacked, the group came under increasing pressure. Fahey fired his rifle with one arm after being wounded, and, with Hortin loading, kept it up until he was wounded in the other arm. George Moore maintained his position until he was shot, a piece of his steel helmet being driven into his head. Manxman, Van Karran, the oldest of the group at 28, was shot in the chest, with the bullet passing through a lung. Tragically, Tommy Copperwaite was hit by a German bullet and died instantly.
Cliff Holt, (a 21-year-old tailor from Ivanhoe) volunteered to carry back a message to Headquarters alerting them to the situation. They were eventually relieved and managed to get Moore and Karran back to their own lines, but both died of their wounds two days later. It was too dangerous to try and retrieve Tommy’s body and it was left in the shell hole where he had fallen.
Oscar Jones, who had led this valiant band, was wounded at Bullecourt and died on 3 May 1917.
It had been a bleak day for the 21st Battalion – 108 men were killed on 26 August 1916, and, in the confusion, it took longer to confirm that Tommy Copperwaite had been killed. So, it was not until 25 September that his parents received a cable message informing them of his death. Just ‘a week or two ago’ a letter from Tommy had spoken of the ‘strenuous times the Australians were experiencing.’ It must have seemed slightly unreal.
Once the shock had subsided, John Copperwaite wrote to Base Records asking for information.
‘…I would like, if possible, a few details, however small, regarding his death…’ The reply, couched in the usual way, was that, at that stage, they had no further details.
Tommy’s death affected all who knew him. His cousin, Alex Trahar (q.v.) mentioned it when writing home to Ballarat…
‘…I actually got a paper to read right out here that some of my old Humffray street mates have paid the supreme sacrifice. I was sorry to hear about Tom Copperwaite. I was speaking to him about a week ago. The Ballarat boys are right in the thick of things here…’
On 13 September 1916, Tommy’s name was published as an appreciation by the Army Corps Commander of his good services whilst Division held a portion of the line at Pozieres. He would also be mentioned in C. E. W. Bean’s Official History of the War for his part in the action at Mouquet Farm.
Later in the year, Elizabeth Copperwaite was granted a small fortnightly pension of 10-shillings for the loss of her eldest son. It was increased by four shillings a year later. She would also receive a small parcel of his personal effects that held an armlet, his New Testament, a pair of sunglasses, and a bundle of letters. These things all held equal amounts of sentimental value and sadness.
On the first anniversary of Tommy’s death, he was remembered by his family.
COPPERWAITE – In sad and loving memory of our dear son and brother, Tom, who was killed at Pozieres, 26th August 1916
His King and Country called him;
The call was not in vain.
On Australia’s roll of honour
You will find dear Tommy’s name.
Just when his life was brightest,
Just when his hopes were best,
He was called from this world of sorrow
To a home of eternal rest.
- Inserted by his sorrowing mother and father, and three brothers, Jack, Alfie, Roy, 510 Skipton Street
COPPERWAITE – In sad and loving memory of our dear grandson and nephew, who was killed on active service on the 28th August 1916.
Far away from those who loved him
They gently laid him to rest;
In a far-away grave he is sleeping,
One of Australia’s best.
- Inserted by his loving grandma [Catherine Copperwaite] and aunties, Gertie, Lil, Violet, Elizabeth, Dalia and Sarah
In 1923, crews combing the battlefields located Tommy Copperwaite’s body. His remains were exhumed and re-buried in the Serre Road Cemetery No1, 6¼-miles north of Albert by 9 August.
Tommy’s identity disc was recovered during the process and forwarded back to Australia. It reached John and Elizabeth Copperwaite in May 1924, with a covering letter that included the stock phrase used by Base Records on these occasions:
‘Doubtless this memento, though considerably impaired through long exposure, will be greatly valued by you on account of its former intimate association with your son.’
