02/06/2026
Not one for the fainthearted....
How true is the saying, “It’s the quiet ones you have to watch”? Up until the point where Norman Dalgleish was called on to take centre stage, he had led a life of unremarkable obscurity. In just a few short days, days that would ultimately shape the beginning of the end of the Great War, he stepped beyond his usually unobtrusive demeanour and into history.
Although Australia was initially established as a series of penal colonies, opportunities provided by the opening up of land proved a great lure for pioneering settlers. Norman Dalgleish’s family came from Liberton, on the outskirts of the Scottish capital of Edinburgh. But the family’s origins were predominantly from the Scottish lowlands, especially the border area near Selkirk, about 36-miles from Liberton. Their name was recorded historically as “Dalglas,” and evolved from the combination of two Gaelic words: dall or dol and glas, loosely meaning “green field” or “field by the burn.” Given that Liberton’s Old English origin of Libertun, which is believed to have meant “barley farm on a hillside,” the combination is irresistible.
Norman’s great-grandfather, William Dalgleish, who was a stone mason in Liberton, made a very early decision to accept the offer of assisted immigration. He packed up his young family and sailed for Van Diemen’s Land onboard the barque Edward Colston. They made landfall at Hobart on 9 October 1833. After settling in Frederick Street, part of the hilly expanse of West Hobart, William used his skills to build their new home. The steep block required extensive excavation and the sandstone had to be quarried from nearby Knocklofty Hill. The result was a remarkably charming cottage that displayed both William’s stone work and his architectural knowledge.
They also expanded their family from the four Scottish-born to thirteen children in total; however, few of them lived to make old bones. William Henry Short (his mother’s maiden surname) Dalgleish, who was born at Hobart on 8 August 1837, was one who survived the desperate uncertainty of childhood in the 19th Century. After becoming a ship’s carpenter, he plied his trade for several years before the mining boom eventually lured him to Ballarat in the early 1860’s.
His wife, and Norman’s paternal grandmother, Mary Ann Bayley, was born in Stratford, London in 1844, although her family was primarily of Kentish origin. Her father, John Palmer Bayley, had been a shoemaker who worked with quality leather (cordwainer), supported by his wife and eldest daughter (both named Abigail) who were shoe binders. They were part of the dramatic influx of immigrants who looked to Australia for a better life. Their voyage to the colonies was made onboard the somewhat appropriately named British Empire, a barque that plied the Australian migrant trade. They landed at Geelong on 8 March 1853.
William and Mary Ann Dalgleish settled in the booming goldmining town of Scarsdale. It was there that Norman’s father, Arthur James Dalgleish, was born in 1867. He grew up around the area then known as Sago Hill (Haddon).
Norman’s mother, Laura Mary Ann Bryans, was also born locally; her birth was registered at Ballarat in 1866. Her ancestry was Anglo-Irish, being the daughter of Irishman, William Bryans, from the Townland of Terrycalf in County Monaghan, and Marianne Piggott, who was believed to have come from Cambridgeshire in England. Laura had survived a deeply unsettled childhood – she was just eight when her father was killed in a tragic accident at Edenhope on 7 February 1874. Bryans, a draper and hawker, had been travelling around the district selling his wares when he fell from his wagon. The fall caused a complete neck dislocation and he died almost instantly.
The marriage of Arthur Dalgleish and Laura Bryans took place in 1892. It was a simple ceremony, with little fanfare – even the local papers (of which Ballarat had three) did not report its occurrence. The convergence of their union brought together two separate ancestries and its diverse experiences; however, they were not destined for ongoing happiness. Their first child, Harold Arthur, was born late in 1892, but the wee babe only lived eleven weeks, dying on 6 February 1893. A second son, Arthur Stanley (known as Stan) was born in 1894. Their third child, Norman, arrived on 25 March 1895. At this time, the family was living in Main Road, Ballarat East, where Arthur Dalgleish conducted a butcher’s shop.
In January 1896, Arthur undertook a deed of assignment to avoid insolvency and the family moved to Rutherglen shortly after, hoping for a fresh start. Arthur appears to have gone into partnership with his brother, William, establishing a butcher’s business at Prentice North.
The partnership was dissolved in August 1897, and the pair went their separate ways. William continued the business at Prentice North, while Arthur opened a new shop (trading as Dalgleish & Co) in Main Street. The shop was doing a ‘thriving trade’ under the ‘courteous head of the establishment’ in the lead up to Christmas 1897.
Arthur also set up a slaughter-yard at Quarry Hill on the outskirts of the town. (The Rutherglen Golf Club was then nearby, and it is now the site of the Rutherglen High School).
Like many women of the era, Laura Dalgleish was accomplished in all forms of needlework, especially embroidery and crochet. Their home was decorated with examples of her craftsmanship and the children wore her handmade garments. Her work took out several prizes at the Rutherglen Show in October 1897, including an infant’s pelisse crocheted in wool, which she may have kept for baby Elsie Gladys, the couple’s only daughter, who was born late in 1898.
Unfortunately, for whatever reason, Arthur’s slaughtering business had attracted a degree of scrutiny from the local police. He was accused of breaching the Abattoirs Act by failing to hand in necessary reports relating to his slaughter-yard and taken to court – his legal counsel alleged ‘the case was one of spite and malice.’ The charge was dismissed. On another occasion, after two visits by the local constables, Arthur was proceeded against for ‘neglecting to keep his slaughteryard…in a state of cleanliness.’ Multiple witnesses spoke for Arthur and, again, the case was dismissed.
These instances may have had a direct influence on Arthur’s next move. By July the following year, the business of Dalgleish & Co was taken over by Richard and Isabella Tredrea, and Arthur moved his young family to Allen Street in Hawthorn.
In the early 1900s, Hawthorn was quite different to the Melbourne suburb we recognise today – although it was already developing a ‘gracious Edwardian’ atmosphere, it was still semi-rural, with dairy farms and brickworks – and a Yarra River that was prone to flooding. Still just a little boy, Norman Dalgleish experienced the dramatic shift from the quiet country town confines of Rutherglen to the bustling streetscape of Hawthorn.
The details as to what took the Dalgleish family to Melbourne, and why Arthur chose such a departure from his years as a butcher is open to interpretation. During this bridging period, before they moved back to Ballarat, Arthur was working as a storeman. His subsequent occupation as a travelling representative for a tea company suggests a few possibilities: the Hawthorn Tea Warehouse Company was at the corner of Burwood Road and Power Street, just a few minutes’ walk from their home in Allen Street. There was also the prominent Melbourne-based importer, Hawthorn, Rhodes & Co, that was responsible for establishing the famous Robur Tea brand in the 1890s, Griffiths Brothers (known for developing locally produced tea), and Edwards & Co, that was a household name across Melbourne, and boasted massive pioneering warehouses in the city.
There had also been a distinct move away from loose-leaf and towards packaged tea at this time, with country storekeepers seeing the labour and cost benefits of purchasing packets wholesale. Competition to supply regional grocers required teams of salesmen going “door-to-door” as commercial travellers.
Given that the extended Dalgleish and Bryans families were both firmly entrenched as part of the fabric of Ballarat, it was not surprising that, when the opportunity arose, Arthur chose to return there.
In 1905, they were living at 17 Holmes Street in Ballarat Central, just across the street from Grenville College. It was a comfortable double-fronted miner’s cottage, owned by a Mrs McIver. Arthur Dalgleish worked as a tea traveller, storing his stock on the premises.
According to his father, Norman was educated at the Ballarat State School, which usually referred to Dana Street, which was then known as the Ballarat Central State School. It is assumed that this is where Norman and Stan went to school, although Macarthur Street was actually closer. They were studious boys, without displaying pretentions towards academic brilliance.
At 10, Norman had reached an age where there was a degree of responsibility expected at home and school, but he also had a measure of freedom to grow and explore his surroundings. Nearby Creswick Road was a hive of activity and centre for manufacturing. Several foundries, the Ballarat Pottery Works, numerous coaching inns and hotels, dotted the local landscape, whilst the lure of the Old Cemetery (a great place for catching lizards!) and Lake Wendouree (for collecting wild bird’s eggs, which was an immensely popular hobby for boys) completed Norman’s “backyard.”
A potential tragedy was averted on 30 March 1908, when a fire broke out at the Dalgleish home. Fortunately, the fire did not occur when the household was asleep and it was put out by the fire brigade using extinguishers. There was some damage, but the contents, including Arthur’s stock of tea, was covered by £100 insurance.
Stan and Norman Dalgleish were both capable boys, and their talents were channelled into the building trade. Stan found that he had the ancestral flair for carpentry, whilst Norman found work as a fibrous plasterer. In pre-war Australia this was a highly skilled occupation, far beyond the simplified process of pre-fabricated plaster board. In the workshop, Norman would also have learned how to create architectural detailing such as decorative cornicing, panels, and ceiling roses using plaster of Paris reinforced with organic fibres such as horsehair, jute or hessian – a cheaper and faster alternative to traditional hand-carved lime work. He would then install them on site.
Both boys also joined the local citizen forces; Stan started with the old 7th Regiment. With the introduction of the Universal Training Scheme in 1911, the 7th was duplicated and Ballarat was represented by two infantry units – the 70th and 71st. While Stan transferred across to the local Army Medical Unit, Norman joined the infantry.
After living in Holmes Street for nearly ten years, Arthur moved his family to 809 South Street, on the other side of Ballarat. Less than a year later, the family moved back to Melbourne. Their new home was in Brighton Street, Flemington, a quiet, residential area, where they were surrounded primarily by working-class families. The Newmarket Baptist Church was almost immediately opposite the Dalgleish home, and young Norman wasted no time in joining the congregation of, what was then, the largest Baptist church in Victoria.
Norman also continued his military training with the 58th Infantry Regiment – the famed Essendon Rifles, commanded by Harold “Pompey” Elliott. Elliott’s own fond connection to Ballarat would have almost certainly guaranteed that he took special interest in the Norman Dalgleish.
Although he was the younger of the two Dalgleish brothers, Norman was the first to enlist for active service. It seems that his intentions were clear, but he was legally still under age being eight months short of his 21st birthday and required his parent’s consent. Although Arthur and Laura must have felt some misgivings, they agreed and, on 13 July 1915, his father wrote the necessary words of permission…
‘…Dear Norman, as you seem to have made up your mind to go to the Front believing it to be your duty to do so, we will do nothing to hinder you & so give our consent. Dad…’
The single sheet of lined writing paper has now yellowed with age, but that one word – “Dad” – stands out for its emotional sincerity; its fond connection. Most of these documents were signed with a full name, or the formal appellation of “father.” It was clear that father and son were close.
Both parents then signed the document, making it their legal consent. When Stan enlisted in March 1916, he did not need to seek parental permission.
Local recruits had been presenting themselves at the Essendon Drill Hall in Pascoe Vale Road, so it was likely there that, on 26 July, Norman began the process of joining the AIF. Captain Tom Forrest was the medical officer on duty and found in Norman the perfect young recruit. At 5-feet 11-inches, Norman was well above the minimum height requirement. His lean build spoke of physical strength and fitness – he weighed 10-stone 8-pounds and could expand his chest from 32 to 35½-inches. Captain Forrest noticed that Norman had a scar on his left temple, which was either from some boyhood mishap, or an undisclosed accident.
In appearance, Norman had a happy countenance – alert, brown eyes that suggested someone ready to laugh. His hair was very dark, almost black, and his skin was fresh and clear. He was also free of many of the niggling, underlying conditions that could interfere with good soldiering, and his teeth and sight did not cause need for comment.
Although it had been his father who wrote the letter of consent, it was his mother who Norman chose to name as his next-of-kin.
Having successfully passed the doctor, Norman immediately signed his oath of service. He went into camp on 2 August, joining the 96th Company Depot as a private.
Seeing his young son join up, must have prompted something in Arthur Dalgleish. As he was fast approaching 50, serving overseas was not feasible, so he looked for an avenue to “do his bit” on the home front. Around this time he became joint-secretary of the Kensington and Flemington branch of the Red Cross Society and set about raising much needed funds and collecting necessary items to send overseas.
On 9 October, Norman was formally transferred to his unit and joined the 7th reinforcements destined for the 23rd Infantry Battalion. Although the Showgrounds Camp (near the Flemington Racecourse) was closer to home, this group of reinforcements were based at the larger Broadmeadows Camp. The beginning of his career with the AIF was identified by the regimental number 3075.
Having finalised his personal affairs, Norman bid farewell to his parents, and his siblings, Stan and Elsie, and boarded HMAT Commonwealth at Port Melbourne on 26 November. The ship made its way to Egypt via Fremantle, Colombo and Aden, reaching the war zone shortly after the calendar ticked into the New Year. This meant that Norman arrived too late to take part in the Gallipoli Campaign and just missed what would be the eventual cut-off for awarding of the 1914-15 Star.
Back in Kensington, the Dalgleish family experienced a singular trauma. A significant meningitis outbreak was causing concern across Ballarat and Melbourne. Just three weeks into 1916, 87 cases had been admitted to the Melbourne Hospital; more than half had died. Amongst the deaths was Laura Dalgleish. She had been admitted to hospital on 4 January, but deteriorated quickly, dying the next day. Whether Norman was informed via cablegram or letter, the shock would have been devastating.
From a military standpoint, Norman’s first two months in Egypt were also unsettled. The AIF was undergoing a period of expansion and duplication in preparation for their deployment to the Western Front. Consequently, the latest reinforcements were left to cool their heels waiting for distribution to their units. Although the 23rd Battalion had landed at Gallipoli halfway through the campaign, they had endured a dangerous and exhausting time manning the trenches at Lone Pine. Ninety-four men did not survive; many more were casualties. Half of these veterans were taken to form the 23rd’s sister battalion, the 58th, which was raised at Serapeum on 17 February 1916. Norman was with the second draft of reinforcements and he joined the 58th Battalion on 23 February, after the unit had moved camp to Tel-el-Kebir.
The next four months were spent in intensive training. As other units began the transfer to France, the 58th continued drilling on the desert. They spent extended periods at the outpost camps of the Hog’s Back and Little Wallow – both of which were little more than sandy ridges located east of the Suez Canal.
Norman was not flashy or overt in character, but he earned recognition for his burgeoning leadership skills with an appointment to lance-corporal on 15 May. A month later he was on his way to France.
A troop train, consisting of open-air cattle trucks, carried the 58th Battalion from Moascar through to Alexandria during the night of 16/17 June. The process of loading the transport Transylvania was completed quickly and the ship moved away from the wharf later the same day. The voyage to Marseilles took six days and passed without incident, but not without a vista of glorious sights. Every view was designed to take your breath away and Norman Dalgleish must have thought this war caper was not a bad exercise.
After landing on 23 June, the 58th moved straight through to the north of France. They reached Steenbecque after three days on a draughty, rattly train, and immediately took over huts and tents at Camp No3.
Their first engagement came in trenches forward of the staging hub of Sailly-sur-la-Lys on 11 July. The enemy shelled the area three days later, killing four and wounding nine. The shelling continued the next day, building up to a massive bombardment that lasted for two hours resulting in the deaths of 40 more men of the 58th. Over one hundred men were wounded. The bombardment did not finish until the early hours of the following morning (16 July) and it took many hours to evacuate both the dead and wounded. Norman had suffered two relatively minor shrapnel wounds – one to his hand and another to his right cheek near the ear – but it was shellshock that was the real cause for his admission to the No1 Australian Casualty Clearing Station at Estaires. After being assessed, Norman was transferred to an ambulance train that carried him through to the 35th General Hospital at Calais, where he was admitted on 18 July.
The wound to his cheek and the neurological aftereffects indicate that Norman and been uncomfortably close to a shell blast; he was likely suffering from deafness, tachycardia, “the shakes” – including mouth tremors – and an inability to sleep. He was evacuated to England onboard the Hospital Ship Dieppe, sailing from Calais on 20 July, and was admitted to the 3rd London General Hospital, Wandsworth, the same day.
The shellshock was severe enough it necessitated Norman spending nearly two months in hospital. He was finally discharged on 13 September and sent to the No1 Australian Command Depot at Perham Downs in Wiltshire. He reported to the 15th Training Battalion on 2 October after returning from furlough.
At this point he had regained his fitness and was classified “A”, meaning he was ready to return to the front. The process took just over two weeks – from proceeding overseas on 21 October, joining the 5th Australian Divisional Base Depot at Étaples, marching out to his unit, and finally rejoined the 58th Battalion at Dernancourt on 6 November.
Sadly, so many of his mates were not there to welcome Norman on his return. The 58th Battalion had taken an active role in the Battle of Fromelles on 19 July, just days after Norman was wounded. Initially, the battalion had provided carrying parties and a reserve force to the fighting. Late in the battle, that reserve force (approximately half the battalion) was sent forward, only to be hit by ferocious machine-gun fire that decimated their line. Seventy-one of the 58th Battalion died that day; fifteen more died of wounds over the next four days.
Norman was one of fourteen reinforcements to arrive that cold day in November. They were posted to companies on a ‘territorial basis’ to replace battle casualties and described as a ‘fair class.’ Certainly, Norman Dalgleish was identified as above average – on 12 November, less than a week after returning, he was promoted to corporal.
Towards the end of the month, the 58th moved into the Flers Sector, taking over positions in Needle Trench from the 60th Battalion, with platoons being placed in the euphemistically named Mild, Cloudy and Shine trenches.
Heavy rain hampered any effort to improve conditions in the trenches. The weather did not improve and it was bitterly, ferociously, cold.
Relief was always a dangerous process, whether moving in or moving out, and the 58th suffered multiple casualties on both occasions. Several Ballarat and district men were killed in the process – Richard Bayfield, Arthur Bourchier (q.v.), John Colwell, Hugh Kenneth McGregor, Thomas Monks, John Peoples, James Wood Preston, and William James Whatman.
During the move from Switch Trench to Needle Trench on 28 November, Norman was wounded slightly, but following some quick first aid and a hot meal meant he was able to remain on duty.
However, that was the least of his problems – just the next day he was admitted sick to the 1st Australian Main Dressing Station. He was immediately moved to the 38th (British) Casualty Clearing Station at Heilly, where he received basic treatment for trench feet and colitis.
After travelling through to the No1 General Hospital at Étaples, where Norman was admitted on 2 December, the medical staff spent a week treating his conditions before he was evacuated to England. He sailed from Le Havre onboard the Hospital Ship Formosa on 11 December.
Upon landing in England, Norman was transferred through to the 1st Southern General Hospital in Birmingham. Established at the Edgbaston campus of the University of Birmingham, the 1st Southern General was one of the major military hospitals that operated throughout the war. At its height, the hospital (which included tents and converted annexes) had a capacity of 3,200 beds and eventually treated over 130,000 men. By the time Norman arrived his colitis had subsided – mainly due to rest and dietary control – but his feet continued to prove troublesome.
Trench foot, caused by prolonged exposure of the feet to wet, cold and dirty conditions, had surfaced early in the war, with the first winter of the war causing a massively high casualty rate due to the condition. The combative armies had simply not been prepared for the freezing, water-logged conditions of trench warfare and quickly paid the price.
The situation during winter 1916 was appalling – weeks of continuous rain and sleet, with temperatures plummeting to below freezing, were a recipe for misery in the frontline trenches. Men were forced to stand knee-deep in icy mud, with moisture and cold, along with the tightly wrapped puttees worn by the troops, restricting blood circulation, saw a sudden spike in trench foot.
Norman was probably initially unaware of the tingling and numbness that were the warning signs of trench foot. When he finally had a chance to remove his sodden boots and socks, his feet would already have turned blue and gone beyond the change of socks and warming his feet stage. This required bed rest and gentle massage to restore circulation. Tissue damage was common with trench foot, with extreme cases developing gangrene, meaning that treatment was imperative.
For nearly three weeks, Norman was treated with warm baths, heated packs, and massage with a combination of olive oil and turpentine, and long hours of rest with his feet elevated. The necessary improvement meant that, on 15 January 1917, he was well enough to be transferred to the 3rd Australian Auxiliary Hospital at Dartford, a bustling Edwardian market town in Kent.
The accommodation at Dartford was fairly rough in comparison to the 1st Southern General – it had previously housed small pox patients before becoming a fever hospital opened only for epidemic outbreaks of scarlet fever and diphtheria. Even the buildings were quite ramshackle, made only of timber and steel. Fortunately for Norman, his stay at Dartford was brief; he was soon assessed as well enough to be discharged and was granted a furlough on 19 January. For a lad who was proud of his rich Scots heritage, it seems entirely appropriate that he took the first opportunity to visit the land of his forefathers. His visit to Loch Lomond left an indelible impression – in winter the dramatic dark depths of the loch are surrounded by snow-capped mountains, and he would have felt the crispness of frost under foot and the bite of icy wind off the water. It would have been a peaceful, restorative journey.
Returning to duty on 5 February, Norman was assessed at the No1 Command Depot, Perham Downs, and was classified B1a, meaning he was still only fit for light duties. The next day he marched out to Worgret Camp, home to the No4 Australian Command Depot, Wareham.
Just before his 22nd birthday, Norman received word that he was to be transferred to the newly raised 65th Battalion. At this point a Sixth Australian Division was being proposed, and experienced men, like Norman Dalgleish, were earmarked for leadership roles.
Other than a trip into London, where he had his photograph taken on 10 April, Norman kept his head down and worked hard towards earning promotion. It was unusual to skip from corporal to a commission – in those rare cases it was usually a reward for outstanding bravery in the field. Clearly, Norman had earned the approbation of his commanding officers during his time at the front. The reward for his hard work was his commission to second-lieutenant on 13 August.
Significant casualty lists and a lack of reinforcements forced the Australian High Command to cancel plans for a 6th Division and, in September, the 65th Battalion was disbanded without being deployed. That resulted in Norman Dalgleish being transferred back to the 58th Battalion on 15 September. A month later he joined the Overseas Training Brigade at Sand Hill Camp outside the Wiltshire village of Longbridge-Deverill. This unit (which figures prominently in AIF service records) conducted hardening and drafting to prepare men for a return to the front.
By the beginning of December, Norman was ready to return to France. He reached the 5th Australian Divisional Base at Étaples on 4 December, and marched out to his unit two days later.
It had been a tough year for the 58th Battalion. From holding the line at Flers and Ligny-Thilloy, to defence of the gains made at Bullecourt after the second battle, and the major battle at Polygon Wood on 26 September, it had been costly. The toll for 1917 was 254 deaths with casualties for the battalion amounting to nearly 1000 for the year. Given these dramatic losses and the dropping numbers of reinforcements, it was significant that Norman arrived back on the day polling commenced for the second conscription referendum. The first, which was held in October 1916, had been narrowly defeated, although men at the front had voted “yes”, albeit by the narrowest margin. The second ballot took place on 11 December; the 58th Battalion was holding the line in the Oosttaverne Sector (Wytschaete) outside Ypres and the enemy, applying an ironic reality to the situation, shelled the area irregularly throughout the day and night. Unless Norman conveyed his personal thoughts on conscription in letters to his family, it is not known how he voted that day. Although, once again the soldiers voted marginally in favour, the overall result was a resounding “no”.
'…In reference to the referendum, I must say that I was terribly disappointed that the Noes got home so easily, as reinforcements are urgently needed. We are growing so weak that one of the divisions will have to be cut up to reinforce the remainder…’
- Sergeant Jack Reid, 1179 6th Battalion
With the decision made, the men had little choice but to settle in and soldier on.
Late on 15 December, the battalion moved across the border into France and settled into billets at Courset. Heavy snow fell during the night and Norman awoke to a blanket of white all-around. The officers of the 58th gathered together in the snow for an informal portrait – although it was supposedly taken by an Official Photographer, it was snapped before anyone alerted the group and Norman Dalgleish (who was at the extreme right of the long line) was clearly caught unawares.
But it was good to be back among his mates for Christmas – a white Christmas – and Norman enjoyed the special arrangements that had been made for dinner. Everyone partook of soup, roast beef, four varieties of vegetables with pickles and sauces, followed by Christmas pudding and fruit, all washed down with tea and beer. The men all received the gift of a pocket leather wallet from the Australian YMCA.
The New Year dawned with the 58th Battalion resting well behind the line at Courset. It was the perfect time for officers to receive updates in their training. On 14 January, Norman left for a three-week course at the Small Arms School of Instruction at the General Head Quarters. He continued to impress with his leadership capabilities and, on 1 March 1918, he was promoted to full lieutenant.
The collapse of the Russian Army following the October Revolution of 1917 allowed the German forces to focus its energy on the Western Front. The anticipated German Spring Offensive came in late March 1918 prompted a large-scale movement of Australian troops back to the Somme. The 58th left Meteren early in the morning of 27 March. They had just passed through the St Pol railway station when the enemy artillery began shelling the area. One 15-inch shell hit the train directly, derailing four trucks. The truck containing the entire Quartermaster’s Staff and the canteen assistants received the full force of the blast. Norman Dalgleish was in the officers’ truck, next to the one that was hit. The scene was utterly chaotic – Private Herbert Leslie Hughes, from Sebastopol, and Private Ernest James Henry Newey (from Waterloo, near Beaufort) were among the sixteen men of the 58th Battalion who were killed; a further nine were wounded. Eight horses were also killed.
After the derailed portion of the train was uncoupled, and the wounded attended to and placed on the train, they continued on their way to Doullens.
By the beginning of April, the enemy was pressing forward with their attack towards Amiens. The 58th Battalion was holding both banks of the Somme Canal near Hamelet, when word was received from their liaison officer, Lieutenant Frank J. Weir (a Ballarat College Old Boy), that the enemy was attacking between Le Hamel and Bouzencourt. The companies were immediately reinforced with four Vickers machine-guns and 20,000 rounds of small arms ammunition. By this time (just 20 minutes before midday) the enemy could be seen in front of Le Hamel.
‘…Large numbers of English troops (42nd Brigade) were retiring into Vaire as the enemy’s troops advanced. The officer commanding “B” Coy of this battalion (Capt Harold Dunstan Ferres [born Ararat]) holding a line of strong points…quickly quashed the situation. Realising that the English troops, if they made a stand, could hold up the enemy’s advance, he made strenuous efforts to check the retreat. The officers leading the retirement when remonstrated with protested that their orders were to fall back. At 12 noon instructions were received from Brigade Hqrs to stop all stragglers and compel them to fight. Ferres succeeded in collecting a force of about 500 men – mostly of the Rifle Brigade. The majority of these men were without rifles and equipment. When questioned they stated that they had been ordered to dump all equipment & get back as fast as possible. Rifles were however salvaged & with SAA sent forward from Bn Hqrs. At 1:30pm Capt Ferres reported all stragglers organised and were digging in on the right of his strong points…’
It was a significant turning point in the war. However, the threat continued.
On 25 April (known in France as the “Second ANZAC Day”), the 15th Brigade, with the 58th Battalion in reserve, launched a strategic counter-attack at Villers-Bretonneux. The legendary night-time advance caught the hubristic enemy completely unawares and thus halted the German push towards Amiens.
Norman Dalgleish was detached to the 15th Brigade Nucleus Camp at Pernois on 14 June to attend the Corps Gas School. At the specific request of Brigadier-General “Pompey” Elliott, Norman was then attached to the 15th Brigade Headquarters as a Gas Officer.
Meanwhile, during the extraordinary Battle of Hamel on 4 July (so meticulously planned by General John Monash it took just 93-minutes to exact victory) the 58th Battalion had been deployed in an attack at Ville-sur-Ancre as a feint to the coming operation. The 58th then took part in the actions that were to form the beginning of the Allied Hundred Days Offensive in August.
In early September, the battalion was engaged in assaults on German defences around Péronne. They were still south-west of Péronne when Norman returned from his detachment to Brigade Headquarters on 24 September.
Incongruously, in the midst of these dramatic times, the next day the 58th Battalion marched to the 60th Battalion’s sports ground for the 15th Brigade Sports. At the end of proceedings, it was declared a very successful event with the 57th and 60th Battalions tying for first place, followed by the 58th and 59th. A concert was then held in the evening.
A conference, presided over by Brigadier-General Elliott and attended by the battalion commanding officers and tank officers, was held on 26 September to discuss the projected attack on the Hindenburg Line. The 58th battalion marched through to the Brigade School to inspect a large-scale model of the ground around Bellicourt and the Hindenburg Line.
Zero Hour for the attack was set for 5:50am on 29 September.
It was a wet and cold start to the day, with mud heavy underfoot as the battalion prepared to advance on the St Quentin Canal. The 15th Brigade was supported by fresh American divisions, who made the initial push to secure the Bellicourt Tunnel. The Americans inexperience resulted in them failing to clear out the deep dugouts and secure their objective, this allowed the enemy to reform at the rear. Consequently, the advancing 58th Battalion, along with the 8th (Australian) Brigade came under fire from German machine-gunners and snipers. Despite the murderous fire, the men of the 58th pushed forward.
Norman saw his Company Commander fall, and with the other company officers becoming casualties, he suddenly found himself leading his company. Under heavy fire, Norman crawled from section to section over an open slope reorganising his men. Although he was himself wounded in the head, he controlled the situation close to the le Catelet line, maintaining contact throughout with his senior officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Watson, and with the 57th Battalion. His leadership ensured that his company secured their objective and the day was a success.
But it came at a huge cost – the men of the 58th Battalion were already exhausted and the unit was severely depleted; the attack on the Bellicourt Tunnel cost the lives of a further 25 men, including Private Spencer James Eldridge (Daylesford), Sergeant Richard Stevens (Ballarat), Corporal Frank Whiting (Ballarat) and the Lieutenant Frank Weir.
That night, Norman, despite his head wound, led a patrol forward to reconnoitre Cabaret Wood Farm, a strongly fortified German stronghold, which had held up the advance that day. Twice he went forward ‘to test the strength of the garrison of the farm.’ He gathered valuable information as to the enemy’s numbers and positions. This enabled the farm to be rushed and captured the following morning. Norman suffered a second wound (to his upper arm) in the course of the action on 30 October, but, once again, refused to be relieved.
Plans for the 1 October to clear the Hindenburg Line involved nearly the entire 5th Australian Division attacking Mill Ridge under a heavy barrage. The order was to exploit any possible gains once the objectives were gained.
The night was dark and wet, with the rain only stopping just before dawn. Poor communication of the order to “exploit” meant that some of the battalions stopped when they could have pushed forward. Norman Dalgleish led his men forward, thrusting out to the north making considerable gains beyond their objectives. However, when the other companies failed to exploit their own gains, this left Norman’s company exposed to the Germans, who had withdrawn troops and guns to the hills beyond the Beaurevoir Line.
At this point the 58th Battalion formed a line on the flank, positioned on a slope facing north between the le Catelet line and Estrées Road. The German artillery began to violently bombard the slope north of Estrées with 5.9 and 8-inch howitzers and the 58th quickly lost nearly all of its officers.
Norman Dalgleish’s company was occupying the most advanced position in the brigade at this stage of the fighting. In such a vitally important moment, ‘his initiative, leadership and skill in open warfare tactics were beyond praise.’
They were within 200-yards of his final objective when he was hit in the face by a piece of shrapnel. It was then that Norman Dalgleish, with his jaw absolutely shattered and (according to Lieutenant-Colonel Watson) ‘pieces of shrapnel lodging on his brain,’ displayed an ‘absolute devotion to duty, self-control, and determination to conquer the enemy set an example to the whole of the battalion which will be difficult to excel.’ Indeed, his level of bravery is still beyond belief.
The perfect person to take up the narrative at this point in Norman’ story, was Pompey Elliott himself. In writing to his friend, and long-term mayor of the City of Essendon, John Frederick Henderson, Pompey described in detail the young officer’s work and his effect on the 58th Battalion and the battle in front of the Hindenburg Line.
'…You remember young Norman Dalgleish? He was a friend of yours. Well, this boy was wonderful.
On the 26th September he was shot through the shoulder, but concealed it for fear of being sent to hospital. The next day he was wounded again, but did not reveal the fact.
On the 1st October he led his company in a victorious charge on a hill from which the enemy were driven, but the latter revenged himself by opening up a terrific bombardment of the hilltop. Dalgleish had two officers with him. One was killed and the other badly wounded in a few minutes, and many men became casualties. The company being reduced from 58 men to about 30; but still Dalgleish held on, and got his men dug in.
As he was moving about a fragment of shell struck him in the face, crushing the jaw so that he was unable to speak. He handed over command to a sergeant, and walked over half a mile unaided to Capt [Leslie William] Elliott, of the 57th. Here, by writing and signs, he made known to Elliott that his company was without officers, and sadly in need of reinforcements. As a result, Elliott supplied assistance, and the hill was secured against the enemy, who were already moving forward to retake the position.
This done, Dalgleish walked back to his battalion commander and drew a sketch, upon which the blood dripped as he wrote, showing the position of his men and that of the enemy. Whilst doing this he had frequently to pause and let the blood flow out of his mouth, as it threatened to choke him. It was only when this was done that he would listen to any suggestion that he would leave the field…’
Norman was moved back to the 8th Australian Field Ambulance, which was operating their Main Dressing Station near Templeux-le-Guérard, some 10-kilometres back from le Catelet. His wound was clearly catastrophic, and he was immediately transferred through to the 2nd British Red Cross Hospital at Rouen. It was a long, harrowing journey, and Norman did not reach Rouen until 3 October; when he was admitted to hospital he was marked as ‘dangerously ill.’
Stan Dalgleish, who had been with the 38th Battalion in the same action at the le Catelet Tunnel, was informed that his brother had been mortally wounded and was given leave to travel through to Rouen.
Pompey Elliott continued the story in his letter:
‘…He survived his wounds until he reached the base hospital at Rouen. There he suddenly remembered that he had omitted to commend Cpl [Herbert George] Colclough for his gallant conduct under fire. He got the sister to write a note to the colonel recommending Colclough for his gallant conduct, and another NCO, then fell back and died.
It was a wonderful exhibition of heroic fortitude and devotion to duty to the very end. As a result of his action, Colclough, like his brother, is to get his commission as soon as he finishes a course at Cambridge.
Dalgleish and little Cpl [Alex] McArthur, who at the landing, when mortally wounded, rowed on and on until he fell dead across his oars, will always be coupled in my mind for unselfish devotion to duty.
The Essendon Rifles will never need greater heroes than these. It has been an inspiration to have lived with them. In view of your pictures of Australia, one might well wish to have died with them…'
Whether this is an accurate description of the final act of a gallant and wounded young officer or a somewhat emotional retelling, we will never know. According to the Church of England chaplain, Leonard Bristow Stallard, Norman ‘had a terrible hole in his head,’ and was never fully conscious after he was admitted to hospital. He died at 2:10pm on 9 October 1918 – just a month short of the armistice that would end the war. It is not known if Stan got to see his brother before his death, but he was there for the funeral on 11 October. Norman was buried in the large military extension at the St Sever Cemetery by a Non-Conformist minister, and the grave was marked with a wooden cross. It was a deeply sad event for Stan Dalgleish who conveyed so much emotion in one short sentence: ‘I buried my brother myself at Rouen.’
Unfortunately, if Norman Dalgleish did indeed attempt to recommend Corporal Colclough for a decoration, there was no acknowledgement of the work he did that day.
Pompey Elliott personally recommended Norman Dalgleish for the Distinguished Service Order. The award was confirmed by Major-General (later Lieutenant-General Sir) J. J. T. Hobbs and appeared in the London Gazette on 8 March 1919. Norman was also mentioned in General Sir Douglas Haig’s Despatch of 16 March 1919, which was gazetted on 11 July.
Despite receiving a decoration that recognised his leadership, it was widely believed that Norman Dalgleish should have received the Victoria Cross for his great bravery and endurance in the action that led to the breaching of the Hindenburg Line.
After more than three years as a widower, Arthur Dalgleish remarried on 29 April 1919. His second wife was Jessie Reid, the widow a Richard Boyden and mother of two boys aged 17 and 14. The marriage took place at Scots’ Church in Collins Street. Despite being 43, Jessie fell pregnant and in 1920 she gave birth to a baby girl who they named Norma.
The gradual return of personal effects, allocation of medals and memorial items, and the organising of the wording for Norman’s permanent headstone at St Sever brought varying degrees of pain, pride and grief to the Dalgleish family.
It was clear from the parcels of belongings that Norman had been a collector of German souvenirs – he had possession of four pistols, a bayonet, knife, a note case containing a photograph, belt buckle bearing the traditional “Gott mitt uns”, a two-mark note, a leather carry-all, a damaged steel helmet, and a piece of souvenir shell. He had more general souvenirs, including two small aeroplanes, a book of postcard views and a souvenir album of Loch Lomond.
There were also his own personal items – identity discs, whistle and lanyard, a metal watch and strap, a patent lighter and two cigarette cases (including one in silver), his wallet, a note case, a photo case, and note book. Norman had also carried two copies of the New Testament, along with a number of books, a fountain pen, a brass candle stick, a small pair of scissors, mirror, a nail file, a flat iron, and the usual letters and photographs, pencils, coins, and keys.
His father also received a large amount of military issue clothing and equipment, including Norman’s trench coat, officer’s tunic, ankle boots, his Sam Browne belt, a gas helmet, haversack, and the usual collection of uniform stars, badges and studs.
Following his mother’s death, Norman had written his Last Will and Testament, in which he bequeathed his entire estate to his sister, Elsie.
When it came time to choose the inscription for his son’s grave, Arthur Dalgleish managed to convey so much within the few words allowed by the Imperial War Graves Commission. The poignant epitaph reads, ‘In loving memory of a noble son and brother, who died as he lived – a man.’
In late May 1922, Mr J. H. Hewison, a prominent member of the Australian Natives’ Association, presented prizes to State School students of the Kensington-Essendon district in connection with the Dalgleish Memorial Essay Competition. He also presented the school with a framed portrait of the late Lieutenant Norman Dalgleish DSO MID. Mr Henderson, on behalf of the local branch of the ANA, presented both Arthur Dalgleish and the Kensington State School with framed memorials of Norman. Arthur, in thanking the ANA, spoke with great emotion about his son.
Norman Dalgleish’s Distinguished Conduct Medal was also exhibited as part of the school’s Empire Day celebrations of 1922.
On ANZAC Day 1929, Pompey Elliott was called on to unveil the newly completed Essendon War Memorial at the gateway to Queen’s Park in Moonee Ponds. At the conclusion of his address to the crowd of around 3000 people, Pompey spoke with great emotion about the devotion to duty shown by young Norman Dalgleish. Although there was local purpose for raising Norman’s story on such an important day, it was clear that, despite the unimaginable horrors that Pompey Elliott had witnessed throughout the war, the death of one young plasterer from Ballarat had left an indelible mark. There can be no doubt that the accumulation of his war time experiences was a major force in him taking his own life on 23 March 1931.
After his father’s death on 27 June 1933, Stan Dalgleish found himself dealing with a resurgence of the grief he had experienced fifteen years earlier. He contacted Base Records asking if they could return the brass inscription plaque that had been attached to the temporary wooden cross over Norman’s grave. Unfortunately, according to the IWGC, no trace of the plaque could be found. He was informed that crosses which had not been earmarked for return to families were, in accordance with the Commission’s policy, burnt and the ashes scattered over the graves.
These crosses held special significance to the families, and many now adorn walls in churches and cathedral cloisters across the United Kingdom. The response to the enquiries initiated by Stan Dalgleish appeared to indicate that the Commonwealth Government had made a decision to not return them to Australia. Furthermore, that all wooden crosses from Australian graves were burnt, and the ordinary inscription tapes buried in the cemetery. After conducting some brief research, it is clear that a mass burning of Australian crosses did not take place. But in the 1930s there was simply not the scope for a thorough enquiry. Unfortunately, there was no record of what occurred to the brass inscription plate from Norman Dalgleish’s grave; it was suggested that it was likely it had been buried in the cemetery and ‘therefore it was impossible for them to comply with Lt Dalgleish’s request.’
