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War Memorial
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From Ballarat & District in the Great War

LCpl Albert Richard ROBERTS DCM

It was a typical late autumn day in Ballarat: damp and with a hint of the coming winter cold in the air. Many of the residents of Haddon had gathered at the Ballarat New Cemetery to farewell an old friend. Four young men – the sons of the deceased – had the sad task of carrying their father to his grave. For the Bert Roberts, it was a poignant reminder that he was no longer a boy.

The Roberts family had been pioneers of the Sago Hill area. Joseph Roberts was just a small boy when his parents arrived there in the late 1850’s. Profitable goldmining was encouraging an influx of new workers and offering opportunities for a good income.

Peter and Bridget Steffen arrived in the area in the 1870’s, after Sago Hill had been renamed Haddon.

The linking of the two families – one Irish, one German – came with the marriage of Joseph to the Steffen’s eldest daughter, Anne, on 1 December 1883. Together they were to produce a significant family of twelve children. Their fifth child, Albert Richard, was born on 9 October 1891.

Whilst the town had a Catholic church, there was not a separate religious based school. So, the Roberts children perforce were required to attend the Haddon State School. It was there that young Bert received his rudimentary education.

Joseph Roberts was a miner by occupation, but he must have been aware that goldmining could have limited opportunities and working underground brought great hazards. It seems that this may have encouraged him to seek an apprenticeship for Bert that would guarantee him work around the mines or into other industries. He was indentured to local blacksmith, John McDonald, and over four years learned the many aspects of the trade.

The death of his father on 22 May 1912 was not unexpected. Nevertheless, the sad sight of William, Peter, Percy and Bert carrying their father’s coffin was one that would not have been lost on those present. Bert was just 20 years-old at the time – definitely a man as defined by the times, but still so very young in terms of life experience.

The advent of war would certainly change that.

After the death of her husband, Anne Roberts moved into Ballarat and a new home in Joseph Street. Bert and his younger siblings were now her main source of support. It seems that Bert took this very seriously – he acquired his enlistment papers on 2 February 1915, but did not pursue enlistment 12 July, when the major push for fresh volunteers was at its height.

Dr J. B. Campbell conducted Bert’s medical at the Ballarat Depot. At 5-feet 8-inches in height and having an expanded chest measurement of 36½-inches, he had no difficulty passing the minimum requirements and was immediately accepted into the AIF.

A farewell banquet was arranged at the Haddon State School on Saturday 21 August 1915. The plan was to give a proper send-off to Bert Roberts and another local volunteer, William Wilson. However, Bert was unable to attend due to already being in camp at Broadmeadows.

Being over 7-miles from Ballarat, Haddon lay outside the compulsory military training area. And the village did not offer a unit of its own, so Bert went into the army without any military experience. Of course, being a country boy, he would have had a better than average ability to handle a rifle. He definitely received ample time to accrue knowledge and fitness as a soldier – he was to spend nearly 9-months at Broadmeadows before he sailed for the Front.

Like so many of his comrades, Bert made sure to have his photograph taken in uniform – something for his mother to keep close whilst he was away. The sepia tones of the portrait don’t really show Bert’s brown eyes and black hair, or his dark complexion, but his mother would have been able to imagine them quite clearly.

Assigned to the 16th reinforcements for Ballarat’s 8th Infantry Battalion, Bert finally embarked from Melbourne on 1 April 1916. Including the obligatory stops in Fremantle and then at Ceylon (Sri Lanka), the troopship Suffolk made a very slow crossing and didn’t dock at Port Suez until 14 May.

From this point, however, things began to move at a much faster rate. The 8th Battalion was already deployed on the Western Front and reinforcements were desperately needed as casualties began to mount. Bert sailed for France on 28 May, the voyage to Marseilles taking nearly a week.

A three-day train trip through the French countryside followed, and Bert arrived at the Australian Divisional Base Depot in the town of Étaples on 7 June.

When Bert finally joined the 8th Battalion on 29 July, the unit had just come through a tough first round of fighting in the Battle of Pozieres. It had been a hot day’s marching before the new reinforcements arrived at 7 in the evening.
On 16 August, the 8th Battalion moved back into the trenches, arriving in Sausage Valley by 5:15 in the afternoon. An attack on the German lines two days later met with a decided lack of success due to a number of issues, ostensibly the greatest failures being the lack of surprise and poor artillery support.

During the course of the fighting, Bert Roberts received his first wounds in action. He had made it far enough forward to receive a bayonet wound to his leg – and also copped a gunshot wound to his right arm for his trouble. He was admitted to the 44th Casualty Clearing Station the next day and was then transferred to the 26th General Hospital in Étaples.

When Bert rejoined the 8th Battalion in the Scottish Lines on 30 September, the unit was preparing for a dangerous trench raid.

By the middle of December, the 8th was back in the frontline. On 20 December, Bert was wounded in action a second time, suffering a bullet wound to his left leg. The damage was bad enough that it required transfer through the various stages of treatment – the 5th Australian Field Ambulance, 38th Casualty Clearing Station, before being admitted to the 9th General Hospital in Rouen on 22 December.

It was then decided that Bert’s leg required further treatment in England. On 30 December he was transferred to the Hospital Ship St Patrick for evacuation. He was admitted to the Military Hospital at Colchester on New Year’s Day 1917.

After nearly three months at Colchester, Bert was transferred to the 1st Australian Auxiliary Hospital at Harefield Park on 21 March. Just five days later he was discharged to furlough.

Bert had been out of the firing line for exactly seven months when he finally rejoined the 8th on 20 July 1917. The battalion was resting at Bray, and for once Bert did not land back in the very thick of things and was able to adjust accordingly.

It was to be the calm before the storm.

The series of battles that are now referred to as the Battle of Passchendaele, began with the Battle of Menin Road on 20 September, followed quickly by Polygon Wood and then Broodseinde Ridge, as the Australian troops pushed forward with the bite-and-hold plan that aimed to take the village of Passchendaele.

Bert Roberts was about to prove his courage under fire.
‘…During the attack on Broodseinde Ridge east of Ypres on 4th October, 1917, Private Roberts did brilliant work in the advance. On account of the marshy ground in Remus Wood it was difficult for troops to get through same and it was decided to outflank the enemy in position there. Private Roberts went forward alone with a supply of bombs and made a daring frontal attack on the wood, drawing the enemy fire and making a fine feint, thus facilitating the movement of our troops round the flanks of the wood from where they could close with the enemy from behind. His courage and resource assisted greatly in carrying off a difficult situation…’

The Commanding Officer of the 8th Battalion recommended Bert for the Distinguished Conduct Medal. The paperwork was received on 12 October and passed the following day. In the interim, as extra acknowledgment of his bravery, Bert was promoted to the rank of corporal.

On 20 November, official news of Bert Roberts being awarded the DCM was received by the battalion.

The 8th Battalion was deployed near Hazebrouck on 28 June 1918, when the enemy put down an intensive barrage. Bert Roberts was one of those caught by the exploding shells – the third time he was wounded in action. This time the wounds were catastrophic – he suffered multiple shrapnel wounds to his right thigh, abdomen, a major wound that caused a compound fracture to both tibia and fibula in his left leg, and his right arm was literally ‘blown off.’

He was once again passed through the various stages of treatment before being admitted to the 7th Stationary (Lines of Communication) Hospital on 1 July in a serious condition. Subsequent progress reports just reinforced that the young soldier was seriously ill.

On 22 July, notification was sent to Base Records in Australia that was to be relayed to Bert’s mother in Ballarat.

‘…Now reported Lance Corporal Albert Roberts admitted twenty-eighth June Second Australian Casualty Clearing Station gunshot wounds abdomen arms legs dangerous progress report expected…’

Given the nature of the information, Anne Roberts must surely have been prepared for the worst.

Progress reports did indeed arrive, but each continued to just reaffirm that Bert was in a very serious condition.

Finally, on 29 August, his mother was informed that his condition was ‘stationary’. A very small comfort.

The following day, Bert was admitted to the Fulham Military Hospital in London. His right arm had been operated on to perform a partial amputation to clean up the shattered bones and muscles.

Frighteningly, on 19 September, Anne Roberts received a communication from Base Records that revealed the full details of his wounds - SW right arm blown off, abdomen, right thigh, left leg compound fracture tibia and fibula – severe. The baldness of the language gave no thought to the trauma it would inflict on his mother.

To compound matters for Anne, her youngest son, Percy, had enlisted on 2 January 1918 and she had no idea where he was by this time. Fortunately, Percy came through unscathed, and was in France when the war ended.

Amazingly, by 29 November, Bert was convalescent. Given the damage, and the potential exposure to infection, it was a minor miracle that he recovered. It also meant that he was destined for an early return to Australia. On 5 January 1919, he was placed on the Hospital Ship Kanowna to begin the voyage for home.

On Friday evening 13 June 1919 during a special ceremony held at the Melbourne Town Hall, Bert was presented with his Distinguished Conduct Medal by the Governor-General Sir Ronald Munro Ferguson.

It was then time for Bert to return to civilian life. The loss of his arm meant that he could no longer work as a blacksmith. Indeed, he would need to learn to write using his left hand, which is exactly what he did. He moved to the Melbourne suburb of Brighton and began working as a clerk.

Now, this is where the story becomes a little less clear and there is a need for some hypotheses.

In 1924, Bert married Emily Maude Brown. Maude was three years older and had served as a nursing sister with the Australian Army Nursing Service throughout the war. She was a Brighton-born. How they met is not fully known. Of course, it is entirely possible that they came across one another after Bert went to live in Brighton.

However, one small snippet in Maude’s service record could indicate that they may have met on the voyage home.
On 24 December 1918, Maude was assigned to the transport Takada to nurse those returning to Australia. Bert, of course, sailed twelve days later onboard the Kanowna. What was very common during this period was the transfer of repatriated men to other ships once they reached Port Suez. It was seldom mentioned, but happened quite regularly to allow certain ships to return to England for a quick turn-around. At the end of Maude’s file is one brief line that creates the possibility already mentioned – “Returned to Australia per “Kanowna.”

Together, Bert and Maude set up home at 230 North Road, Brighton. They remained there for the rest of their lives. It was there that they welcomed to birth of two sons – Richard Henry, who was born on 8 August 1926, and Geoffrey William, who arrived on 14 December 1928.

Bert worked as a civil servant for nearly 50 years.

Another strange and somewhat perplexing event surrounds his eldest son, Richard. When he was just 18-years-old, Richard died. There was no mention of his death in any of the Melbourne newspapers. I searched page by page, paper by paper, trying to find something, but it was as if he just disappeared. He was buried in the Brighton General Cemetery with his maternal grandparents.

When Maude died on 25 August 1955, again there was no mention of Richard in the family death notice.

My suspicions, my hypothesis, is that Richard had suffered from some form of disability. Given his mother’s age at the time of his birth – she was 38 – it is quite possible the boy had Downs Syndrome. In that era, children with disabilities were institutionalised, and parents were told to “forget”, to go home and have another child.

By the time Bert Roberts died on 12 November 1971, he had become “Dar” to four granddaughters. His death notice named each girl, but of his eldest son there was no mention. After all this remarkably brave man had achieved and suffered, it would be good to know what happened to his first-born son…