Ballarat & District in the Great War

Ballarat & District in the Great War A page for people interested in the social and military history of Ballarat & district during the Great War.

Several years ago, after a young soldier was killed during training here in Australia, the authorities declared that, de...
16/05/2026

Several years ago, after a young soldier was killed during training here in Australia, the authorities declared that, despite being a serving member, who had already seen duty in Afghanistan, he was not eligible for the Nation’s Roll of Honour. It was stated that the criteria for inclusion had been set up during the Great War and being killed at home precluded him from the honour. Given that the Roll included men from Ballarat and district who died in vehicle accidents, falls from buildings – even a lightning strike! – and many more from contagious diseases that spread like wildfire in crowded camps and on close-quarter troopships before ever hearing a shot fired in anger, I really felt confused for this young soldier’s family. However, in recalling that situation, I remembered a young man called Eric Llewellyn, who was determined to do his bit…

Although Erskine Evan Llewellyn and his wife, Annie Roberts, were both Ballarat born, they had the purest of Welsh blood running in their veins: their families came from deep in the heart of the valleys and ridges of South Wales. Erskine Llewellyn’s paternal grandfather, Llewellyn Llewellyn was born in the hamlet of Llanwynno in Glamorgon, high up on the eastern side of Cefn Gwyngul. He grew up roaming the hills between the famous mining valleys of the Rhondda and Cynon. Llewellyn’s wife, Hannah Griffiths came from the Monmouthshire town of Tredegar in the neighbouring valley. Tredegar was known for its iron production, having the plentiful supply of iron ore and the three natural resources required for its manufacture: coal, timber and water, from the fast-flowing Sirhowy River. Although not a conventionally beautiful spot, the town had an abundance of charm and character, and the proud heritage for which Wales is famous.

At the time of their marriage on 11 July 1842, both Llewellyn and Hannah were under 21, making them legally minors. They were living in Brynmawr (the highest town in Wales) in the parish of Llanelli, where Llewellyn was employed as a grocer. His apprenticeship with local grocer and draper, William Williams, then led to a role as accountant clerk.

The tragic loss of at least four babies and the desire “to seek their fortune,” prompted the decision to migrate to Australia. They left England in November 1853 onboard the famous clipper, Marco Polo, then claimed to be the fastest ship in the world.

Annie Roberts’ father, Llewellyn Roberts, came from the hilltop town of Llantrisant in Glamorgan. Less than ten miles (by modern roads) from Llanwynno, so the possible connection between the Roberts and Llewellyn families was already close. Llantrisant Castle, once the stronghold of powerful Marcher Lord, Richard de Clare, dominated the town, and once guarded the route between the upland and lowland areas. One of Llantrisant’s three patron saints is St Gwynno, after which Llanwynno is named. And to add a little modern perspective, Llantrisant is now home to the Royal Mint.

Llewellyn Roberts’ wife, Mary Rees, was born in Cardiff, although in 1827 it was far from the grand Welsh capital of today. Back then it was just a quiet rural market town, with a population of less than 4000 people. Cardiff grew rapidly after the development of the Bute Docks in 1839, and Mary witnessed the beginning of those changes. She was, however, just 12 when her mother, Margaret Meyrick, died from consumption on 3 March 1840.

By 1850, the Rees family was living in Llanwynno, where Mary kept house for her father, William Rees, and her two brothers, Thomas and Jenkin. Despite this being a coal mining area, William and the boys all worked above ground as carpenters.

Mary married Llewellyn Roberts at the Sardis Welsh Independent Chapel (Eglwys Gymraeg Sardis) in nearby Pontypridd, on 8 November 1851. They began their married life together in a terrace house in Commercial Street, Llanwynno, where Llewellyn worked as a tailor.

The discovery of gold in Australia heralded in a massive migration to the colonies. Proving that he was not beyond the allure of instant wealth, Llewellyn Roberts bundled up his wife, newborn son, Thomas, and a few meagre belongings and set sail for Victoria in 1852.

They settled on the goldfields at Ballarat and Llewellyn set up business as a tailor and outfitter. Ballarat quickly outgrew the limits of its tent city beginnings and the familiar streets began to emerge. The Roberts family home was at 4 Morres Street in Ballarat East; the Llewellyn family lived just around the corner at 19 Nicholson Street.

The Llewellyn family had continued to suffer the loss of babies after arriving in Victoria, so when Erskine Evan Llewellyn was born on 10 March 1860, there must have been fear attached to his arrival. The Roberts family had been more fortunate, and when Annie was born on 11 September 1861, she was Llewellyn and Mary’s sixth child.

It was inevitable that Erskine Llewellyn and Annie Roberts would become acquainted – from their shared time at Llanwynno, the two families had seemed destined to cement a connection.

Erskine Llewellyn began his career as a chemist under Thomas Pretty Palmer, of Ballarat, before joining the United Friendly Society’s pharmacy. The UFS dispensary was established at Ballarat in 1880, first opening its doors at 84 Armstrong Street south. He passed his pharmaceutical registration on 9 February 1887.

On 28 March 1888, Erskine Llewellyn and Annie were married. The celebration, a double wedding, which was held in Ballarat East, garnered a deal of attention. Annie shared her special day with her older sister Elvira, who married Reverend S. James Surpell, a Wesleyan minister from Inglewood. The Reverend Mr Ross was the officiating clergyman for Annie and Erskine’s wedding. The girls were supported by their three sisters, Mary, Cecilia and Emily Ada.

Shortly after their marriage, Erskine and Annie moved into their home at the Ballarat East end of Gregory Street, which was then designated part of Little Bendigo.

Following the death of T. P. Palmer, in 1889, Erskine returned to his former firm, which was then known as A. M. Palmer and Company. The pharmacy was at 21 Lydiard Street south (next to the Bank of Victoria). Erskine was the senior chemist, assisted by Palmer’s eldest son, Alfred Merrill Palmer. For those interested in the intricacies of Ballarat’s early years, A. M. Palmer was an old boy of the Mount Pleasant State School,

Just a few months after this major career advancement, Erskine and Annie welcomed the birth of their first child, Daisie Mary, on 3 September. A second daughter, Iris Hannah, followed in 1892.

Their first son, Eric Erskine Llewellyn, was born on 2 February 1892. Although the name of Erskine, a very popular given name in the Llewellyn family, was Scottish in origin, in this instance it appears to have been an acknowledgement of their Celtic roots. Erskine was believed to be derived from Brythonic Celtic (an ancestral language from Iron Age Britain that became modern Welsh and Cornish) that meant “green slope.”

The family was completed by the births of Llewellyn Cedric in 1897, and Violet Madge in 1898.

Erskine was the type of father who exerted a strong, positive influence over his children. Not only was he highly respected in a professional capacity, he supplemented his position by participating extensively at a community level. His interests were varied and included the Ballarat City Public Library, the Old Colonists’ Association, the Horticultural Society, and Prisoners’ Aid Society. He was also active with the Yarrowee Lodge of Freemasons and the Mark Master Masons.

Young Eric began his schooling at the Macarthur Street State School. He was transferred to Humffray Street at the beginning of the first term in 1907, where he completed Grades V and VI. As a boy, he also attended Sunday School classes at the Neil Street Methodist Church.

The move towards compulsory military training was already gaining momentum when Eric was at primary school. All schools organised their own junior cadet corps for boys, who learned how to march and drill. Eric began his own training in 1908, eventually moving through to the 71st Infantry Regiment following the introduction of the Universal Training Scheme, and the subsequent restructuring of the Citizen Forces, in January 1911.

After leaving Humffray Street at the end of Term one in 1909, Eric began evening classes at Vedette College. The private school was convened at 3 Seymour Street in Soldiers Hill, home of the principal Edward Picken Date. His son, J. E. Tracey Date BA, had taken over classes in February 1907. Students were prepared for all levels of examination, especially for university entry, Public Service (State and Commonwealth) examinations, and commercial course examinations. The school offered both private tuition and correspondence courses.

After a year at Vedette College, Eric was enrolled at the Ballarat Agricultural High School to study the professional course. It was a rigorous, academically focussed, course of study that was designed to prepare students for university entry or professional careers in teaching, law or medicine. Eric was tutored in classical languages (Latin, French or Greek), English literature, history and geography, along with advanced mathematics and sciences, such as physics and chemistry. In Eric’s case, the extended study achieved the desired outcome; he left Ballarat High in 1911, having secured a position with the Commercial Bank at Williamstown.

Eric was not the only one of the Llewellyn children to show promise. They all had the benefits of advanced education and were encouraged to pursue professional careers – Daisie, who was dux of Clarendon Ladies’ College in 1907, studied nursing at the Ballarat Base Hospital; Iris, who was also an outstanding student at Clarendon, chose kindergarten teaching; Cedric, like his brother, went into banking; and Madge (the third of the Llewellyn girls to attend Clarendon) became a clerk. This pointed to promising futures for them all.

Erskine Llewellyn’s move to Melbourne in March 1912, enabled him to both expand his business and provide a home base for his children. His new pharmacy (the “Ballarat Pharmacy”) was at 12 Spencer Street near Flinders Street, where he offered ‘an extensive stock of fresh, pure and high-grade drugs, nursery toilet requisites, [and] patent medicines.’ The family took up residence in Mayfield Street, Coburg. Eric and Cedric transferred to the local infantry regiments, with Eric joining the 60th AIR (the Heidelberg Regiment) and Cedric became a senior cadet with the 59th AIR (the Coburg-Brunswick Regiment).

Then the world went to war.

Despite his youth, Cedric was the first of the Llewellyn family to enlist. He was just 18 when he volunteered, taking his medical on 15 June 1915. Annie Llewellyn appears to have written the letter of consent (also signed by Erskine) giving permission for their son to serve with the AIF.

Historically, the Welsh have been characterised as being slightly shorter than average. Whether that was due to genetics or poor nutrition is up for conjecture, however, the Llewellyn boys were certainly not overly tall – at the time he enlisted, Cedric was just 5-feet 3-inches; Eric was three inches taller. Daisie split the difference, being measured at 5-feet 5. They all shared the same dark, rich, auburn hair, blue eyes and fair skin, surprisingly common in Welsh people.

Eric was determined to do his bit, but there was one drawback – he needed spectacles to correct his vision. And the AIF could afford to be choosy in the early days of the war, so, his first two attempts met with rejection.

In 1915, having completed his traineeship at Williamstown, and with it seeming unlikely that he would join the AIF, Eric accepted his second posting as a clerk to the bank’s branch in Charlton. He was granted an exemption from the 60th AIR at Coburg before travelling north.

That determination eventually paid off. On 17 March 1916, Eric waited at the recruitment depot in Melbourne for the medical officer to call him through… Although he was a little underweight at 122-pounds, and his initial chest measurement of just 31-inches may have been an issue, he was able to easily pass the minimum with a deep breath adding a further three inches. His height caused no issue. Interestingly, given his previous rejections, there was no indication of a sight test. The MO did note that he had two vaccination marks on his left arm, a scar on the outside of his left knee, and a birthmark on the other. Like most red-heads, Eric was also prone to freckles.

Having celebrated his 21st Birthday a month earlier, Eric did not require parental consent to enlist, and, on this occasion, his eyesight was apparently deemed to not be an issue and he was passed fit to serve. Instead of immediately going into camp, he was granted leave until the 17 May. This allowed him to return to Charlton to cover his position at the bank until a suitable clerk could be transferred. He was also able to bid farewell to his friends, and it seems that he had made quite an impact on the local community. A special farewell was organised for the last weekend in April, where Eric was presented with multiple gifts – a clear indication that he had earned the esteem of the town. When he left Charlton on 1 May, he carried, along with their well-wishes, an arm money belt, a steel looking glass, a soldier’s companion, a fountain pen and a soldier’s knife

Eric was able to spend the next two weeks with his family, before reporting to camp. While home, he had his portrait taken at the Sarony Studio (114 Elizabeth Street, Melbourne); he inscribed it “With love from Eric. 27/7/16.”

On 17 May, Eric joined the 4th reinforcements to the 59th Battalion at the Broadmeadows Camp. His regimental number was then assigned as 2209.

The men were all glad when they received news that they were to embark on 1 August as ‘the Meadows [Broadmeadows] was getting very stale.’ It was a busy day at Port Melbourne – the Orsova (a large Orient liner to which Eric was assigned) was not the only troopship to leave that day and, as a consequence, the dock was very crowded.

The voyage through to Fremantle was ‘pretty rough off the Australian coast,’ and the troops were all glad of a few hours respite shore leave.

The run through to Cape Town ‘proved very monotonous.’ However, Corporal Will Stavely, from Avoca, recorded that things had taken a dangerous turn. Outbreaks of disease were all too common in the crowded camps and troopships. Meningitis was, and remains, a serious, often life-threatening condition, and instances of the disease were frequently reported during the voyages.

‘After a 16 days run from Fremantle, we arrive at Cape Town early on the morning of 23rd Aug. Had the bad luck while coming across the Indian Ocean to find that we had meningitis germs on board; a few of our fellows “went out” to it, so when we arrived at the Cape the yellow flag was flying, which meant the end of all leave…’

Just out from Cape Town, Eric had begun to experience the symptoms of meningitis – a stiff neck, severe headache and a fever. The Orsova reached port on 23 August and Eric was immediately transferred to the City Hospital for Infectious Diseases in Green Point. Gunner Henry Grant Huckson, who was with reinforcements to the 2nd Field Artillery Brigade, was landed at the same time. Lumbar punctures (then referred to as a spinal tap) were performed and it was confirmed that both were suffering from cerebro-spinal meningitis. Private Robert Hunton Walton (who was onboard the Miltiades in the same convoy) was also stricken by the disease.

Bacterial meningitis, which causes a swelling of the membranes surrounding the brain and spinal cord, is, by nature of the condition, a medical emergency requiring immediate treatment. Whilst not as contagious as influenza or the common cold, it spread rapidly when people were kept in close contact over a prolonged period, making a ship’s voyage the perfect breeding ground. In severe cases, like Eric Llewellyn, the antibiotics and sulphur drugs that may have affected a cure would not be available for over a decade. The treatment he received was basic, relying heavily on isolation to prevent spread and symptom management, including sedatives for delirium, swabbing his throat with antiseptics, and sponge baths to manage the fever. At the time, intrathecal serum therapy was the only effective treatment available. It was a painful procedure and identifying the strain of bacteria limited its impact. Consequently, patients deteriorated rapidly and mortality rates were very high.

Eric’s condition quickly worsened and he died on 27 August 1916. Private Walton succumbed three days later. Gunner Huckson battled the disease for several months before he died on 27 November. All three were buried in the nearby Maitland Cemetery. Eventually 48 ANZACs would rest at Maitland.

The end of the year saw two packages of Eric’s belongings being returned home. His love of poetry and reading was evident – he had taken a copy of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khyam, volumes of bush ballads, Tennyson, and Poems of War and Battle. He also had a copy of the novel A Honeymoon in Space by George Chetwynd Griffith, the New Testament and a tract entitled, “All’s Well, My Counsellor.” The other items were typical of a soldier going to the front – a boot polisher, note books, a money belt, a photograph wallet, a bag of camphor and a tin of “fixo-pest,” a pair of scissors, a patent lighter, two bag handles (one with a lock) to discourage theft from his kit bag, along with a key chain and key, an air cushion, along with nearly three pounds in notes and coins. The steel mirror (in a case) and the arm money belt, which had been gifts from his friends at Charlton, were included, but there was no sign of his fountain pen or soldier’s knife. There were also his more personal belongings – his spectacles and case, letters and papers, a wallet containing a photo, a leather belt, and his wristlet watch.

Daisie Llewellyn, who was already caring for injured soldiers at the No5 Australian General Hospital in St Kilda Road, had signalled her intent to join the Australian Army Nursing Service as early as 18 August 1916, but she held off completing the application until 27 November, making her the third of Erskine and Annie’s children to serve in the Great War.

Erskine Llewellyn took over the UFS Dispensary, on the corner of Canning and Pigden streets in North Carlton, shortly after his son’s death. He, Annie, Iris and Madge lived in the residence over the shop.

After his usual busy day in the pharmacy on Friday 17 August 1917, Erskine went into the front room of their home to rest. When his daughter (either Ivy or Madge) found him around 6:15pm, Erskine was struggling to breathe. She brought him a cup of water, but he was unable to drink. It appears he then suffered a major cardiac arrest and he died before help could be called.

It was just ten days from the first anniversary of his son’s death.

In marking that anniversary, it is important to consider the doubled grief of Annie and her two daughters. Daisie and Cedric, who were both in France at the time, were cushioned somewhat from the devastating impact. The words chosen for Eric’s year mind were particularly evocative for the times they were living through…

“We thank God for the souls who breast life’s waves
And leave brave memories behind.”

On 3 January 1918, at St George’s in Hanover Square, London, Daisie, who had been serving as a staff nurse at the 26th General Hospital in Rouen, married Herbert C. Ludbrook, son of the well-known builder of Ballarat East. Bert Ludbrook had been on active service with the 6th Field Ambulance since early in the war. As was the expectation of the time, marriage required that Daisie resign her position with the AANS. Bert, who had been wounded in the thigh in early 1917, was repatriated home to Australia shortly after their marriage, after he developed tachycardia. He and Daisie took up soldier settlement at Tongala East, before returning to Ballarat. In 1949, he was elected to the Victorian Legislative Council as a Liberal and Country Party member for Ballarat Province. Daisie named her eldest daughter Lorraine Erica in memory of brother.

Cedric Llewellyn survived the war without a scratch and returned home during the first few months of peace.

Annie Llewellyn was granted a mother’s pension of £2 each fortnight immediately following the death of her husband, recognising the loss of her eldest son, Eric. She also received the War Gratuity, which was calculated at a flat rate of 1 shilling and sixpence per day for the length of service from the date of embarkation. In Eric’s case it was hardly a king’s ransom – Annie would have been paid little more than two pounds.

Madge Llewellyn, who married returned serviceman Karl Vincent Berry Miller, named her second son, Eric Llewellyn Miller, after her favourite brother. According to Eric Miller, his grandmother

‘…knew that Eric had died the day that he did even though it happened in Cape Town & she was on a ship on the way to Queensland. The story came from my grandmother’s sister, who was with her on the boat, who found her crying her eyes out & when she asked why, grandmother said, “One of my boys has gone home tonight.”…’

Reminders of Eric Llewellyn are all around Ballarat – his tree in the Ballarat Avenue of Honour (number 3438) is planted next to his brother’s tree (number 3436); Daisie’s tree is number 978 in the nurses’ section. His name appears on the WWI Memorial to the fallen on the front of the Neil Street Methodist Church, and the school Honour Rolls for both Humffray Street and Ballarat High School.

Every year a special ANZAC Day service is held at the Maitland Cemetery in Cape Town. Eric Llewellyn’s grave, which was paid for privately by his parents, is surmounted by a white marble gabled ledger stone – on one side are the details of Eric’s birth at Ballarat and his death at Cape Town, along with his age of 21 years 6 months. On the right side of the gable are the most common words used to mark death in the Great War – John 15:13 – “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” It was followed by a profoundly Christ-like epitaph, the essence of agape love – selfless, intentional, sacrificial action,

“I go because I love you.”

It was a quiet morning in Bendigo when Mary Macoboy sat down to open a parcel that held all that was worldly left of her...
06/05/2026

It was a quiet morning in Bendigo when Mary Macoboy sat down to open a parcel that held all that was worldly left of her only son. It was a scene played out across Australia; across the world. Mothers, fathers, wives, all receiving parcels accompanied by the same emotionless expressions of sympathy for their loss. But for 48-year-old Mary, something was wrong. Beyond the fact that her only son – her very tall, fair, intelligent son – Michael Francis, was dead, killed by a Turkish bullet a year earlier. The items in the parcel did not belong to him. Knowing that somewhere, someone else was grieving, Mary made sure that those precious pieces made their way home.

Only 20, Michael Macoboy, had just landed with the 14th Battalion when he was killed on 27 April 1915. They’d taken a pounding that day, and the unit’s much-love chaplain, Andrew Gillison, spent a painful time burying their dead in the ground of what would become known as Quinn’s Post. Chaplain Gillison bore the signs of his work ‘stained by earth and the blood of fellow men,’ as he laboured through that long day, ministering to the dead and dying. The Turks kept up a relentless assault, launching multiple attacks without success. But the chaotic scene made Gillison’s task even harder as he attempted to collect the belongings of the fallen.
A year would pass; the remarkable Gillison was dead, mortally wounded by Turkish bullets on 27 August. The AIF had withdrawn from Gallipoli, leaving behind a legacy that continues to this day, and a country still coming to terms with the deaths of nearly 9,000 men.

Effects gathered up on the battlefield were sent home; in the confusion it was inevitable that mistakes would be made. But Mary Macoboy did not consign the unknown items to a drawer, she returned them immediately, sending them to the fledgling Returned Soldiers’ Association in Collins Street, Melbourne.
On 13 July 1916, the Melbourne Herald ran an article looking for the rightful owner. Headed, “Gallipoli Relics Found,” the piece described the black leather pocketbook that contained three photos, one being of a pretty young woman inscribed, “To my dear hubby; from his loving wife.” Another was of a young girl cut from a postcard, whilst the third was of three sisters bearing the greeting, “Wishing you the best of health, and a safe return. From Teresa and Edith. Nov 11, 1914. S. A. G.” [Which appears to stand for Saint Anthony Guide]

The pocketbook also contained several papers that hinted at the owner’s likely origins – there was a small album of views of Geelong, inscribed “Collected by Sergt R. Little, 15 Bond Street, Ballarat;” a cutting from an illustrated newspaper showing a picnic group – “Some Geelong trippers at the coast,” with a note in pencil, “My Dear Alf.” There were also some leaves enclosed and a newspaper cutting of an article that appeared across the country, headed “The most moving letter of the War,” it was credited to a wounded French cavalry officer, who received care from two other wounded men: an officer in a Scottish regiment and private in the renowned German Uhlan Regiment. This article also bore the handwriting of the young lady in the portrait – “This is the clipping I am sending you. It is so sad, the poor dying German trying to save the other pain.”

Intriguingly, there was also a Base Details Camp order (dated 28 February 1915) that granted Private A. Feldmann permission to be absent from camp. In potentially, a further clue, the document was signed by Lieutenant Henry of the 14th Battalion.
The package had contained a watch on a rolled gold chain with a charm attached. The charm had the name “Glen” and what appeared to be a letter A scratched on the surface. The Swiss timepiece was gunmetal with a gold-coloured dial and was stamped with the word “Nachatty” or “Machatty.”

Within days the articles were claimed by a young widow – she was Glen Love and the pocket book and watch had belonged to her husband Alf…
It was 1887. Agnes Feldman was 18 and facing a problem that women and girls of her time dreaded – she was pregnant…
Although descended from German Jews, this line of the Feldmanns had converted to the Lutheran faith, (the double “n” disappeared in the generation following migration). Their views on pregnancy before marriage, although still regarding it as a moral fall, often focussed on restoring the individual and legitimising the child.
Agnes’ Scottish mother, Janet “Jessie” Henderson, was born in the Perthshire town of Auchterarder, although her family were largely from Stirling. She had come to Australia with her parents and nine siblings, settling at Ross Creek in the 1860s. The small bluestone Methodist chapel at Ross Creek (just under 10-miles south-southwest of Ballarat) was chosen for Jessie’s marriage to Gefert Feldmann on 7 June 1867.

On the other hand, Gefert Feldmann had proved quite the adventurer. He was born at Seehausen, a rural farming community in the German state of Bremen. Driven by a variety of social extremes that included poverty, political unrest, and religious oppression, the entire Feldmann family left Germany for the United States of America in 1846. Gefert, along with his parents, Johann Friedrich Feldmann and Adelheid Brünjes, and his six brothers and two sisters, arrived in New Orleans on 14 December 1846.
Whilst the family settled at Cole Camp in Benton County, Missouri, Gefert could not resist the “gold fever” that prompted the ‘greatest mass migration in Western history.’ As one of the legendary “miner forty-niner,” Gefert hoped, like more than 300,000 others, that he would find instant wealth on the diggings at Placerville in California. Although first called “Dry Diggins,” Placerville had earned the less salubrious honorific of “Hangtown,” due to the frequent executions that took place on a large white oak tree in the centre of the town. These were tough, lawless times, and rough justice was easily embraced.

That he did not become instantly rich did nothing to diminish the allure and, when gold was discovered in Victoria, Gefert left for the fledgling colony around 1851. While it was suggested that he was on the Ballarat diggings during the Eureka rebellion, there was no indication that he was an active participant.

Meanwhile, his family found themselves caught up in the American Civil War – his brothers joined the German Regiment of Missouri Volunteers, all were abolitionists loyal to the Union cause. Henry, Herman, Johann Friedrich jnr, John and Georg were with the regiment during the Battle of Cole Camp on 19 June 1861. A surprise attack by the Confederate Missouri State Guard led to a high number of casualties amongst the German settlers. Captain Herman Feldman was wounded during the fighting.

When Gefert Feldman married Jessie Henderson, he had not made his fortune. Mining for gold had not made him rich and he was, at 40, fast approaching middle age – especially for a man in the 1860’s. He had not even found a circuitous route to riches as a shopkeeper or carter and was just employed as a labourer. Oh, but what a life he had packed into those forty years!
The couple moved around the district spending time at Billy Goat, Ross Creek, Sebastopol, Creswick and Allendale. During these years they welcomed the births of seven healthy children; Agnes Elliott Feldman was their second child, born at Ross Creek in 1870.
Back to Agnes’ dilemma…

Whatever the reason, Agnes did not marry her baby’s father, even though the social stigma of the era usually forced the issue. When the baby was born on 11 February 1888, Agnes employed a common technique that hinted at his father’s identity. She inserted the father’s surname as the baby’s given name, calling the baby boy Alfred Armstrong Feldman. Little Alfred was born at Rocky Lead, where the Feldman family were living. At that time, Rocky Lead was home to just one Armstrong family: Thomas Armstrong and his wife, Annie Robins, who farmed a local property. Their third son, Alfred Herbert Armstrong, was born in 1868, making him two-years older than Agnes.

If Alf Feldman was indeed the son of Alf Armstrong his paternal lineage was interesting. Thomas Henry Armstrong came from Cumberland in England’s far northwest. He had been a butcher, storekeeper and publican at Creswick, then when land was opened up at Apollo Bay, he became one of the first settlers in the area. Bushfires, so prevalent through the Otway Ranges, brought an end to that venture and he returned to Rocky Lead.

His wife, Annie Robins, was born in Tasmania, apparently the descendant of convicts, including First Fleeter, George Wood. She arrived in Creswick during the 1850’s. If the records are accurate, Annie was just 14 when she married Thomas Armstrong in 1859. She earned an enviable reputation throughout the district, being described as gentle and kind and a ‘lady of literary tastes and ability.’ She also wrote ‘good poetry’ and was ‘a model mother.’***
If there was any pressure on Agnes to relinquish her child, only those immediately involved would know; but there does not appear to have been a fracture in the relationship she enjoyed with her parents.

Unfortunately, Agnes found herself facing the same dilemma a second time. A brief relationship with a labourer named Frederick Rowe led to the birth of a second ex-nuptial child. On this occasion, Agnes was sent to the Carlton Refuge to have her baby. Her son, William Feldman, was born there on 16 December 1890.
Gefert and Jessie Feldman had moved to Clare Street in the city heart of Geelong and just a few minutes’ walk to the beach. Agnes and her small children were included in the family move and she soon found work as a servant.

Life was a struggle, however, and the authorities intervened, claiming that baby William was being neglected. In her defence, Agnes stated that Fred Rowe was married and denied he was the baby’s father. Despite Agnes being found to be sober and of good character, the authorities declared that the child’s parentage could not be established and he was made a ward of the state on 13 April 1892. (The baby was fostered by Mrs Mary A. Orr, of Brighton, who later formally adopted him).
Later the same year, Agnes married Joseph Henry Love at Smythesdale. Little Alf was just four-years-old at the time, but Joseph Love, who was a bright, cheery young man, immediately took the little boy on as his own. They changed his name to Alfred Herbert Love. (Coincidence or connection? Certainly, interesting that the name chosen was that of his potential father…)

After their marriage, Joseph and Agnes Love settled in Geelong, and it was there that their eight children were all born. Alf was raised as the eldest of the family, with four brothers and four sisters, it was a busy, bustling, happy household. And, if the photo taken of Agnes and Joseph years later was any indication, there was also a lot of laughter.

The family lived in Yarra Street and Alf had access to both the beach and his grandparents, who lived nearby. He was enrolled at the Swanston Street State School, which was just around the corner from his home. “Swanno” had opened in 1871, with the large school building situated on the corner of Swanston and Myers streets.

These years seemed dotted with a series of unsettling events…
Alf was nearly 13-year-old, when his German grandfather, Gefert Feldman, died from liver cancer on 18 November 1900.
A rather tacky court case had occurred in August the same year, where Joe Love proceeded against a young married woman, who he alleged had filched him of fourteen sovereigns after they had gone to her house to drink beer…

Then, in May 1904, Joe Love was declared insolvent due to ‘dullness in trade and pressure of creditors.’ Although he was only deficient by £15/18/6, it was enough for the legal process to be enforced.
In what could have potentially been a very nasty accident, Joe Love was driving a pony and trap along High Street on 27 October 1906, when the vehicle overturned and tipped him and one of his sons onto the road. Joe hurt his shoulder, but the boy was unharmed. It was either Alf or the eldest of his half-brothers, Joseph Henry junior, who was in the trap but the report didn’t provide a name.
By this time, the family had moved to 10 Union Street, which was historically a notoriously “seedy” backstreet in the centre of Geelong. It was undergoing somewhat of a transformation, however, becoming a hub for specialised businesses, with residents living in cottage homes.

Alf was fast leaving his boyhood behind and would soon begin an apprenticeship alongside his stepfather. Joe trained all his boys as plumbers (except William Horace, who became a butcher), ensuring that they had good, stable careers. But a plumber’s life in the early 1900s was hard work and often dangerous. This was a transition period in urban life, with sanitation systems changing from old-fashioned “thunderboxes” (a source of multiple diseases) to modern sewerage networks, and plumbers were required to do the work. They laboured long days for low wages, digging trenches, handling hazardous lead pipes and solder that in itself presented major health concerns. They were skilled craftsmen, essential to developing a modern community and maintaining the public health, but respect for their work was still a long way off.

When Alf married Glenora Clara “Glen” Guymer on 4 April 1907, he was just 19. Glen was the “older woman,” at 20, but it appears that in the moment it was very much a love match.

Glen Guymer had not had an easy start to life. She had been only eight when her father, Robert, died at Eaglehawk on 29 October 1895. With the country still struggling with the effects of the global economic depression and no form of social benefits available to support her and the children, Clara Guymer had been forced to ‘eke out an existence by taking in sewing.’ Clara, whose maiden name was, interestingly, Armstrong, was born in Otago, New Zealand. She was of Scottish ancestry, with her family reaching New Zealand via Canada.

In April 1898, Glen and her four siblings were brought before the South Melbourne Court on remand from the Industrial Schools, having been charged with being neglected. They had been discovered with their mother in a house in Clarendon Street, unkempt and nearly starving a month earlier. Clara was said to have been very poor, but of good character – although she was about to give birth to an illegitimate child, which would have undoubtedly brought varying degrees of censure and disapproval from the authorities. (She eventually gave birth to a fourth son, Norman Herbert).

With the mother taken away by the police, there was no-one to care for the children. Mr Smith MLA, the school’s chairman, showed the total lack of empathy prevalent at the time in declaring ‘it was a shame the State were put to the expense of keeping the woman’s family, but they had no option but to commit them to the care of the Department for the care of Neglected Children.’
Glen and Esther were returned to their mother (under a fostering agreement) on 2 May 1898. William and George were returned a month later. There was no indication that the eldest child, Robert Archie, was released.

Clara Guymer remarried in 1900 (her second husband was Salvationist, Edward Bell) and gave birth to two further children, but both died as babies – Edward Gordon Bell was three months old when he died in early 1902; little May Bell only lived for a month, dying in 1903.

Then, on 20 August 1904, Glen’s 15-year-old sister, Esther, died.
There can be little doubt that these traumatic years left their mark on Glen and her siblings.

Alf and Glen moved to South Melbourne, where their daughter Esther Glenora Ivy was born on 4 March 1908 Melbourne. Little Essie quickly became the proverbial apple of her father’s eye.
Although they clearly loved one another, these years proved rocky ones for Alf and Glen. Their problems often boiled over into a public setting. During a court case, Glen stated that, on 8 February 1911, Alf had left her and Essie at Brighton ‘without adequate means of support.’ The charge was withdrawn.

Then, on 9 November 1911, Alf disappeared again. This time he left Glen and Essie at Coburg with her mother, once more without means of support. The authorities tracked him down two weeks later at Gepps Cross in Adelaide.

He and Glen were again reconciled. These problems may account for the considerable gap between Essie’s birth the arrival of their son, Linden Alfred, who was born in late 1912. However, their joy was short-lived and they were left heartbroken when their little boy died a year later.

Alf immediately took a job as a plumber with the Department of Home Affairs, at the newly opened Royal Military College, Duntroon. The college had been raised on the former Campbell family sheep station, and Alf, Glen and Essie made their home at the nearby camp.

In 1913 there were around 400 people living around Duntroon, including 42 cadets, military staff and civilian workers. The isolated nature of the college fostered a communal atmosphere, and for a while Alf appeared more settled. When the Royal Federal Lodge of the Grand United Order of Oddfellows celebrated their anniversary at Canberra in July, he performed the significant role of secretary.
Then, just a month later, he was charged at Melbourne with having deserted Glen.

However, the couple were re-united once again and, in December, a spectacular Christmas party was organised at Duntroon for over 100 children. Alf, despite still experiencing considerable grief over the loss of their son, threw himself wholeheartedly into proceedings, donning an appropriate Santa Claus costume to charm the children. Even the Commandant of Duntroon, Brigadier-General William Throsby Bridges, known to be a prickly character at the best of times, attended the event. Sergeant Major Albert Edward “George” Yates, a prominent member of Duntroon’s instructional staff, personally thanked both Alf and Glen Love for their part in organising the event.

After his contract was completed, Alf moved his family back to Victoria, with his next position being at the Federal Woollen Mills in North Geelong. They took a house in nearby in St David Street, Rippleside.

When it became apparent that Australia was going to war, Alf moved Glen and Essie to Coburg to live with her mother.
On 7 November 1914, Alf Love walked into a nearby recruitment depot. Although he was a married man – not a demographic that was expected to enlist – Alf met every other criteria easily. At 5-feet 9½-inches, he was nearly four inches above the minimum requirement. He was powerfully built, weighing a solid 12-stone 10-pounds, with an expanded chest measurement of 40½-inches, giving him the stature of a light middleweight boxer. The medical officer was happy with every aspect of his examination – Alf’s teeth passed muster (a common cause for rejection) and he did not suffer from any of the multitude of “defects” that could affect his potential efficiency as a soldier.

In appearance, Alf was very similar to thousands of other Australian recruits – he had a medium complexion, with hazel eyes and brown hair. And, in keeping with compulsory childhood vaccinations of the era, he had one mark on his left arm, that was most probably against small pox.

Before leaving Geelong, Alf had trained with the Geelong branch of the Australian Garrison Artillery. He spent five months involved in recruitment out of the drill hall in McKillop Street, as they transitioned from a colonial volunteer force to a more professional unit.

Alf completed his paperwork by allotting three-fifths of his army pay to his wife and daughter; he then took his oath of service on 13 November and immediately joined the growing complement of the 14th Infantry Battalion at Broadmeadows Camp. His commanding officer was Lieutenant-Colonel Richard Edmond Courtney, whose name would become synonymous with the topography of Gallipoli.
Although the 14th Battalion was still in camp, the original battalion was numbered at fighting strength and Alf Love was added to the 1st reinforcements with the regimental number of 1375 and the rank of acting corporal. When it came time for embarkation on 22 December 1914, the original unit sailed onboard HMAT Ulysses. The 1st reinforcements left the same day onboard the troopship Berrima, with both ships part of the convoy of sixteen vessels that formed the Second Australian Contingent. The Berrima had the added responsibility of towing the submarine AE2 for most of the voyage to Egypt.

Alf spent Christmas and New Year’s Day at sea. Much of his time involved training – rifle exercises, physical and platoon drills, lectures, and studies in semaphore being the order of the day. He also made regular entries in the diary he started after leaving Australia. Despite the struggles he and Glen had experienced, Alf’s writing about his wife and daughter was always loving. On New Year’s Eve, he wrote, ‘Thinking of my dear ones at home. May God bless them tonight.’

The Berrima arrived at Port Suez on 28 January 1915, reaching Alexandria three days later.

During his time in Egypt, Alf, who had relinquished his voyage-only corporal duties, spent much of his time taking part in musketry training, “muscle exercises,” bayonet fighting, and inter-battalion manoeuvres preparing them for a prospective engagement against “Johnny Turk.” The 1st reinforcements had been absorbed into the battalion and Alf had joined A Company, under Major Robert Rankine.

And throughout these months apart, Glen sent a steady stream of letters, often containing newspaper clippings, and Alf carried them with him; a tangible link to home. Glen and Essie were never far from his thoughts. After a particularly gruelling 28-mile desert night march on 5 March, Alf wrote, ‘Thinking of home and Glenora and Essie. Wish I was home with them tonight.’

When their wedding anniversary rolled around, Alf recorded the moment in his diary.

‘…8 years married today—Glenora –God bless her and keep her true to me until I can return to her…’

On 11 April 1915, the 14th Battalion “struck camp” and marched from Heliopolis to the Helmieh Railway Station. The troop trains travelled through the night, reaching Alexandria early the following morning. Alf and his mates then marched to the docks and boarded HMT Seeang Choon. Alf was allotted to a troop deck and watched as vehicles and provisions were loaded onto the ship. By 5pm they were ready to put to sea.

The Seeang Choon finally left port at 7:45am on 13 April. Despite the destination being officially recorded as “unknown,” it was clear that everyone knew something major was afoot. Private Rose of the 2nd Light Horse obviously did not want to miss out – he was found stowed away shortly after the ship pulled out of Alexandria.
They reached the outer harbour at Lemnos at 1:15pm on 15 April, and Alf took in an historic sight. More than 200 ships had assembled in Mudros Harbour, making it (to that point) the largest invasion force by sea ever assembled.

When, late on 24 April, most of the transports and destroyers sailed quietly off to Gallipoli, the Seeang Choon remained tied up at the dock. The 14th Battalion was held back as part of the intended second wave of the invasion, and did not leave Lemnos until 9:30am on 25 April.

As they passed Cape Helles, Alf witnessed the great naval attack. Then, after reaching their designated landing place of Gaba Tepe around 5pm, he felt the reality of the situation as lighters heavily laden with wounded were brought alongside. It was a sobering experience, and the air hung heavy with cordite and the metallic smell of blood. The unloading of the wounded, so many specimens of damaged huddled humanity, continued throughout the night, with men of the 14th working tirelessly to bring their countrymen onboard the Seeang Choon.

About midnight, three officers and ninety men of the 14th Battalion made their way to the beach at ANZAC Cove. They were the first of the unit to officially join the Gallipoli Campaign. Two torpedo boats carried the remainder of the 14th towards the beach, with tows completing the journey just before midday on 26 April. Alf Love battled his way out of the boat, through the water, under the weight of pack and rifle, dodging his way forward under constant shrapnel fire.

The 14th Battalion remained on the beach until just after 8am the following morning, when orders were received to move up Monash Valley. This was done under the seemingly incessant shrapnel fire. Alf wrote in his diary,

‘…Arrived at firing line at 10 o'clock this morning. Having a very bad time of it so far. Machine gun played hell on our men for a start they were getting killed all around me but I escaped so far…’
It was to be his last entry.

At 1:20pm, Major John Adams led A and B Company forward to occupy and entrench the position at the northern edge of the Second Ridge that would become known as Quinn’s Post. It earned the reputation of being the deadliest position on the peninsula for good reason. Major Adams was wounded before they were able to establish the position, and Major Robert Rankine had to assume command of the initial operation.

Heavy rifle fire was kept up all day, and shrapnel fell continuously along the valley. The Turks also made several attempts to break through the line without success. But the casualty count for the 14th Battalion continued to climb. Sometime after reaching Quinn’s Post, Alf Love was killed. On the back cover of his diary, he had written a simple message.

‘…In the event of my death I wish this book to be sent to my Dear Wife to let her know that my last thoughts were of her and Essie my darling daughter…’

In the heat of battle, Chaplain Andrew Gillison gathered up Alf’s personal belongings and then buried his body on Quinn’s Hill.
It took the authorities nearly a year to return Alf’s belongings to Glen; the small package she received contained his identity disc, a pocket book, wallet and a quantity of letters. So, it must have been quite a surprise when the article appeared in the Herald…

Alf had named Glen as his sole beneficiary, and both Glen and Essie received the standard pensions provided by the Defence Department – the widow’s pension of £52 a year and £26 for Essie.
On 31 March 1917, Glen married building contractor, Joseph Bolch. They made their first home in Kerford Street, East Malvern, a prestigious residential area characterised by large, sold brick period homes. Their daughter, Coral Maysel Bolch, was born there on 30 September 1919.

Glen was a devoted mother. When Essie was 15, her mother worked with the Repatriation Department to help organise a tailoring apprenticeship at Buckley & Nunn’s Department Store on Bourke Street. When this proved unsatisfactory, Glen helped Essie to move her apprenticeship to Carr’s Ladies’ Tailoring, which was nearer their home in the Eastern Suburbs.

Essie’s marriage to Edward Walter Mitchell on 13 November 1926 brought an end to her career as a tailoress. She and Eddie subsequently provided Glen with four grandchildren – Ian, Fay, Graham and Peter.

Coral Bolch married her cousin, Archibald Edward Howard Guymer (son of Glen’s older brother, Robert) on 12 July 1941. Their four children, Clare, Anne, Sue and David, completed Glen’s family.
The Second World War brought further grief for the Love family. Alf’s half-brother, William Horace Love, second son of Joseph and Agnes, was captured by the Japanese during the fall of Singapore on 15 February 1942. He was interned as a prisoner of war at the dreaded Sandakan Camp on Borneo. He died there from malaria on 18 November 1944. Only six Australians survived the horrors of Sandakan and the subsequent death marches that resulted in the deaths of about 2500 Allied POWs. Fortunately, by that time his parents were already dead.

Just two months later, Alf’s nephew, also named William Horace Love (the son of Joseph Henry junior) was killed in a motor accident at Coomera, Queensland, whilst serving with the 2nd AIF.
Just before the war, Glen and Joseph Bolch had moved to a beautiful Edwardian villa at 43 Florence Road in Surrey Hills. Given the harsh traumas of her childhood and young adulthood, it was pleasing to think of her living in such fine surroundings. They lived there until Joseph’s death on 10 August 1957. Glen outlived him by just six years, dying on 3 July 1963.

When Annie Robins-Armstrong died, it was stated that she had six grandsons who served in the Great War – four who made the ultimate sacrifice. Checking through the Armstrong family, I was only able to find two who were killed, the Wallis brothers, Lycester Gordon Armstrong and Thomas James Oakley. If my theory is correct regarding Alf Love’s parentage, maybe Annie counted him amongst her soldier grandsons.

***Please note that I present this as a possible answer to Alf Love’s biological paternal line. My instinct, along with considerable background research, leads me to believe that Alf Armstrong was probably the boy’s father. However, only a DNA test linking the families or anecdotes passed through the generations would confirm my hypothesis.

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