Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

"Mr. R. Hamilton (late of Morningside) has received information from the military authorities that his son, Lieutenant H. H. P. Hamilton died of gun-shot wounds in head and legs on 14th instant, in France. The late officer was born in London 23 years ago, arriving in Queensland in September, 1908. He was a patrol leader in the Sandgate Boy Scouts, and among the first boys called up for military training. He was on the teaching staff at the Technical College, Brisbane, when he joined the A.I.F. early in 1915, proceeding with his battalion to Egypt and Gallipoli, thence France. He was promoted to sergeant before leaving, was wounded at Pozieres, and in rejoining the battalion was recommended for a commission, and sent to Cambridge University for training. On returning to France he was soon promoted to first lieutenant, and recommended for Air Service. He died at the 20th Casualty Clearing Station, France." - from the Brisbane Courier 24 Aug 1918 (nla.gov.au)

"WITH OUR BOYS.  A LIAISON OFFICER. EXPERIENCES OF A HERO NOW DEAD.

Writing from France on July 8, Lieut. H.H.P. Hamilton, an Anzac, who has since made the supreme sacrifice, gave an interesting account of his experiences as a "liaison" officer. He wrote:

"The most interesting time I have spent in the war was as liaison officer to another battalion doing a stunt. We were in reserve, and my job was to keep our commander supplied with news. Zero was at 9.45, dusk. I arrived early and wished somebody else had got the job, a flare-proof dug-out in a small hollow beside a main road just in the rear of supports, and stoke mortared all round. Duty was duty, so, getting all the information I could - on this job one has to crib it, as every one is fearfully busy, nerves a trifle strung, for the trenches are crowded, and if the enemy twigs one move and settles a barrage on us, the whole show would go 'plunk' — settled myself in a corner, pencil and note book in hand, beside the adjutant, looking a trifle worried. Very little was said. A gunner would appear, keen and alert, sometimes a little white, and report such and such a company in position. The C.O. sat on a petrol tin with the telephone to his ear, sang songs, and occasionally swore at the staff captain over the 'phone. A Hun 'plane appeared a couple of hundred yards over our heads; not a word — would he notice? He must, but apparently he didn't. A few 5.90's lobbed on supports. 'What'a the time?' 15 minutes to go; pass me the bottle.' The barrage table is studied, and the C.O. asks the adjutant if all companies have, their S.O.S. signals. The adjutant says they have, and murmurs something about 'they won't want any bally S O.S.' Time again, two minutes to go. I tremble a little, and look unconcerned. A commotion outside; for the first time the C.O. gives vent to his feelings. 'Let the runner in there; stand clear. What is it, sonny?' A message, sir,' says a bright kid of 17. 'How's things?' says the high officer. 'Good' says the kid. ''What time's the balloon go up?' 'Just about on - gee, I must get back before they send those woolly bears (big shrapnel) over. Away he scurries with the answer. Great lads, these. "I think she'll go alriight,' says the colonel. Bet your life,' says the adjutant. Nerves are at concert pitch now, and ears listening for that which will not need ears, and will make the dug-out, such as it is, like a ship in a rough sea. Booms and crash! like a row of houses to the rear, and crash! like a row of houses falling. The ball opens, the lads are over the bags. Let's hope they don't rush it and get into our own barrage. The tension is slackened; the show is now in the "diggers" hands, with platoon commanders to guide them. We sit tight for about ten minutes, a fearful din going on. At such a time one thinks how absurd the whole war is. The field guns send their shells whizzing over the roof, almost touching it, like rain, and they burst with a clatter on the other aide of the hollow. They don't worry us much - a few feet of earth stops them. The howitzers concern us more; they land with a 'crump' on the road, and all round us. The C.O. can't get through to the left half battalion, The linesmen have to go out in that hell, trace the wire, and fix it up. They dont have to be sent; it is their job; and with no band playing. They're off before the colonel has finished swearing and doing the semaphore act with the 'phone. Seven hundred yards they had to go. I reckoned on hearing some- thing within 25 minutes. Squatting at the door I saw a figure in the dim light, head down, half running. Ah ! news. I slipped back to my position, and scanned the C.O.'s face as he read. Nobody spoke; the runner stood by panting, sweating, waiting to answer the questions we were going to ply him with. 'The right company in position and digging in. Casualties very slight. Prisoners 40 as yet,' read the C.O. 'Who was hit?' 'Did they fight?' What was the   barrage like'? The kid did his best   to answer all, but said what was uppermost in his mind: 'Any amount of souvenirs.' The colonel broke in and asked a few curt questions, and 'Tell Captain ----- to connect with his flanks, and see about S.A.A. and bombs.' 'Right sir,' and away he went, the C.O. quite satisfied that his message would get home. The left had higher ground opposed to them, and more opposition was expected there.

We had distinguished the slow, sharp crack of the German No. 9 up to 15 minutes past zero. So we expected trouble on the left. A Hun gunner had held out to the last, and had to be bombed out. I returned to the door, despatched a message, and waited, not long. At about 10.30 about a dozen figures came scurrying out of the trench, and made for the rear. Their helmets gave them away as Huns, and I hopped out and yelled. They looked at me and hesitated. I beckoned them to me, and they came crowding around, hands in the air and down on their knees. They were a scraggy lot. Getting what information we could we packed them off. This crowd had come without escort, rushing to our lines imme- diately the barrage fell. After that many more came in, some wounded. We utilised them to carry our own chaps away. We had few casualties. The show was a complete success. Consolidation and many things had to be done in the usual routine. If I were not lazy, and tea not ready, I could carry on with this war talk, because there is little else to talk about." - from the Queenslander 02 Nov 1918 (nla.gov.au)