Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

From Ballarat & District in the Great War

When the Collins family arrived in Ballarat from Eton in Buckinghamshire in 1854, the tent town was at the very height of its goldrush. There was very little that would resemble the beautiful, cultivated city it would eventually become – the land was a lunar-landscape, pock-marked with diggings and canvas was virtually the only shelter from the extremes of weather we all know so well.

It was also only a lucky few who managed to strike it rich. The real entrepreneurs were those who saw that true prosperity could come from feeding the needs of the miners and their families – the storekeepers, the builders and timber merchants; even the brothels! But it was the hoteliers who found the real bonanza. At one point, liquor could be ‘procured’ in over 700 establishments, many of them in Main Road. However, further out from the central diggings there were fewer places for the men to quench their thirst. So it was that George and Annie Collins became the publicans of the Cremorne Hotel in Eureka Street, taking over as early as 1863.

When they arrived in Ballarat, George and Annie’s son, Edward Francis, was just 4 years-old. He and the next generation grew up in and around the pub referred to as “Collin’s Cremorne Hotel”.

It was a fine establishment of brick and stone ‘fairly well furnished and well conducted’. It had a three-stall stable, and, probably most importantly, was a mile from the nearest other hotel. And it was not George’s first pub – he had run the George Inn on the High Street of Eton before they migrated to Australia.

But it seems it was the garden that George and Annie grew that was to be a haven for their growing family and for the wider community. An orchard of flourishing apple trees and gooseberry bushes so lush that on special occasions, the children from the local orphanage could be invited in to feast to their heart’s content!

It wasn’t always an easy life and, on one occasion, after Annie Collins was abused her ‘in language not polite’ by a customer, George remonstrated with the man, he suffered ‘an onslaught on him with a whip handle.’ Such has always been the lot of the publican and their staff and it is unlikely that this was the only time bad behaviour caused trouble for the couple.

All-in-all, it seems this was still a good place to grow up – I can certainly attest to the beauty of the area as the hotel, which still stands, is only a short walk from where I lived as a child. Certainly, Edward Collins made no attempt to leave the area after he married Amelia Jane Coyte in 1878.

Even after his father’s death and Annie relinquishing the license to George Gray in April 1890, the family continued to live adjacent to the Cremorne. It was there that Edward and Amelia’s son, Frank Austin Collins, was born on 2 March 1893. He was the fourth of the couple’s five children, and their third son. The arrival of his brother, Herbert Alan, on 17 March 1899, completed their family.

Both Frank and Herb were educated at the Eureka Street State School, which was a decent walk from home, there and back each day. One of the noted schools of the era, Eureka Street was substantial in both structure of buildings and standard of education. It was a bustling hive of activity with hundreds of students in attendance. It was particularly renowned for the standard of woodwork (referred to then as “sloyd”) and the yearly concert that was a highlight for the children. Frank and Herb both did well under the tutelage of the Eureka Street teachers.

After leaving school, Frank was accepted as an apprentice at Cowley’s Eureka Foundry in Rodier Street, Ballarat East. The four-year apprenticeship trained him as a motor mechanic. Herb would later join him at Cowley’s, where he worked as a fitter. The foundry was well-known for its production of high-grade steelwork and was one of the major employers of young Ballarat men prior to the war.

It seems that, when not working, the boys found time to become involved with the Ballarat Harriers athletic club – a special portrait appears to show Herb as a runner wearing the well-known uniform of the Harriers, with Frank as his trainer, with a towel casually tossed over his shoulder.

The decision to enlist in the AIF was either a combined one on behalf of the Collins brothers – or Frank enlisted to look after Herb. The pair certainly enlisted together. Frank’s papers were signed at Ballarat on 16 July 1915 and Herb’s the following day. Their medical examinations were also a day apart.

At that time, Herb was well underage, although he claimed to be 18 years and 4 months, he was in fact just 16. He did have his parent’s consent, however, and his big brother as back up.

Whilst Herb had spent four years as a senior cadet and was serving with the 70th Infantry Regiment in Ballarat, Frank only stated that he had served with the senior cadets and didn’t give a defining time frame.

Physically, the brothers were quite similar in height, with Herb being marginally taller. His chest was, as expected, less developed due to his age. They both had a fair complexion, but where Frank had brown eyes and dark brown hair, his little brother had blue eyes and his hair was described as simply brown.

The pair went straight into camp at the Flemington Depot on 19 July. They were then assigned to D Company of the newly raised 31st Infantry Battalion on 27 October, with consecutive regimental numbers – Frank 831 and Herb 832.

Shortly before the 31st Battalion embarked for Egypt, Frank was appointed to the rank of lance-corporal. They sailed from Melbourne on 9 November onboard the troopship Wandilla, stopping briefly in Fremantle on the way through.

Just out of sight of their homeland, several Ballarat boys – including Frank and Herb – partook of what was rapidly becoming a tradition of departing troops: they wrote a note, placed it in a bottle and threw it into the ocean.

‘…Will the finder of this card kindly forward same to "The Ballarat Courier," Ballarat, Victoria. Appended are the names of some Ballarat boys in D Coy, 31st Battalion, 8th Brigade, and the boat is just leaving Fremantle now en route for the front.
A.Wilson, J. Allisey, C. C. Coutts, H. E. Brittain, C. Greenaway, F. A. Collins, W. Hicks, J. Lyons, J. P. Garvey, C. W. Tucker, F. Rawlings, Bert Wallace, H. A. Collins, and H. Phillips. All the above are in good nick for Turks or any others…'

When Mr Evander McMillan of Beaconsfield, Western Australia discovered this message, written on a YMCA postcard and inserted into a ‘French glass fruit bottle,’ at Robb's Jetty, he complied with the request and forwarded the card to the newspaper.

The Wandilla docked at Port Suez exactly four weeks after leaving Melbourne.

While Herb was able to completely enjoy the experience of a new, exciting country, Frank was not so lucky. He was admitted to hospital in Ismailia suffering from a painful abscess. After treatment he was able to rejoin his brother in camp. The months passed in training and sightseeing, but by the time the 31st Battalion was transferred to France, the men were all heartily sick of the Egypt.

They boarded the troopship Hororata at Alexandria on 16 June, and sailed the following day in a convoy escorted by a light cruiser. The five-day journey was completely uneventful in every way and they arrived in Marseilles on 22 June.

Frank and Herb’s first experience of a full-scale battle was the disastrous Battle of Fromelles on 19 July. Having only entered the frontline trenches three days earlier, it was a terrifying engagement for the inexperienced troops. By the end of the fighting – just a 24-hour period – the AIF had suffered 5533 casualties, with nearly 2000 killed. The 31st Battalion suffered such a high casualty rate it was unable to perform an offensive role for the remainder of 1916.

Amongst the casualties was Frank Collins. He was wounded during the early stages of the action, but was fortunate that none of his wounds were serious. The shrapnel wounds to his head, chest and foot were treated in hospital at Boulogne. Herb was lucky once again – he came through without a scratch.

When Frank returned to his unit on 15 August, the 31st was in billets at Rue-Biache near Fleurbaix and still within a short distance of the Fromelles sector. Just five days later Frank was promoted to the rank of corporal. Given the number of men lost at Fromelles, it was unsurprising that those who had survived the fighting were needed to fill the ranks of non-commissioned officers, so it was not long before Frank was promoted again, earning his third stripe on 15 October.

Just over two weeks later, Frank was back in hospital, with a recurrence of the abscess that had caused issues in Egypt. This time he was sent to England for surgery at the 3rd Northern General Hospital in Sheffield.

Whilst he was recuperating in the 2nd Auxiliary Hospital in Southall, London, Frank was the recipient of a pair of socks from a Miss Kathleen Walsh of “Lake View” at Leigh Creek. She had knitted a parcel of socks that had been forwarded to the Red Cross for distribution. Frank wrote a very grateful and detailed letter in response.

‘…This afternoon I received a pair of socks from the Red Cross ladies, and in the toe of one was a note containing your name and address and kind wishes for the success and good luck of the recipient.

I come from very near your place. I am a Ballarat boy, and live in Eureka street, next to the Cremorne. Hotel. I have been in hospital here at Southall for some time, and have been operated on for the removal of a fistula, but I am now getting on fine.

It is sixteen months since I left; Australia, and since then I have travelled good deal, both in Egypt and in France. I have been in many a scrap with the Germans since coming to France on 19th July, and received three wounds while trying to turn Fritz out of his trenches at a place called Fleurbaise (sic). I got one in the head, one in the chest. and one in the left instep. None of the wounds was of a serious nature, just bad enough to keep me hospital for six weeks.

After rejoining my unit, I was in several charges, and was lucky enough to get through without a scratch. After spending a few months up near the Belgian frontier, our division shifted up to the Somme battlefields, and after spending a few weeks there I was invalided to England for the operation I spoke of.
The people in England make a great fuss over us, and do all they can to amuse and entertain us. Our Australian can always be sure of a good time wherever he goes in England.

One cannot speak too highly of the good work done by our Australian sisters and doctors in the hospital. They are simply grand, and do all they can to get us into good nick again. Nothing seems to be a bother to them. The French people also treat us exceedingly well. Considering that the majority of us know very little French, we get on well, and can always make ourselves understood.

Thanking you for your gift and kind message, Sgt. F. A. Collins…’

Having spent several months out of action, Frank finally sailed back to France on 22 May 1917. He then spent another month behind the lines before rejoining the 31st at Senlis – apparently just in time for a route march! Nevertheless, the reuniting of the Collins brothers must have been a happy event.

Time passed without the 31st Battalion being deployed in any major action. Their first significant battle came at Polygon Wood on 26 September. Whilst this was a notable success for the AIF, it was far from being a good day for Frank Collins. At some point during the course of the fighting, as the Australian troops pushed forward against the enemy, he was caught by the blast of a high explosive shell. A piece of shrapnel hit him in the left wrist, shattering the bones in his forearm.

After being treated at the 6th Australian Field Ambulance, Frank was transferred to the 3rd Canadian Casualty Clearing Station, where he was stabilised and given emergency anti-tetanus serum and pain relief.

The following day, Frank was transferred to hospital in Étaples. It was there that his left arm was amputated – given the damage and the need to prevent the spread of infection, there was no practical chance of saving his arm.

On 4 October, Frank was placed on the Hospital Ship Princess Elizabeth for evacuation to England. He was admitted to the Military Hospital in Frensham Hill the following day. Before the year was out, he would be heading home to Australia. For Frank Collins the war was over.

For Herb Collins the war was about to really begin.

He had already come to the attention of his commanders ‘doing splendid work’ at Fromelles. From 22 September and during the fighting at Polygon Wood, through to the 31st Battalion’s deployment at Broodseinde Ridge as the Australians pushed forward to Passchendaele, Herb acted as company runner. Now wearing the single stripe of a lance-corporal, he ferried important messages between D Company and the Battalion Headquarters throughout that period. Every step of the way, Herb was exposed to heavy enemy shellfire and the example he set for the rest of his company did not go unnoticed.

Herb continued to act as a runner through into February 1918. Then, on 17 June, when the 31st Battalion had returned back to the Somme, it was confirmed that Herb had been decorated with the Meritorious Service Medal. His continued good work had been brought to the attention of then Brigadier-General Edwin Tivey, Commanding Officer of the 8th Brigade, who was responsible for the recommendation.

While the battalion was out of the line training and enjoying cricket matches, Herb was sent to the Australia Corps School on 9 July. By the time he returned ten days later, the 31st was fighting in the Dernancourt sector.

The 31st Battalion was now pressing the retreating Germans as they moved back towards the Hindenburg Line. On 30 August, the 31st was taking heavy enemy shellfire near the village of Villers-Carbonnel. As a temporary corporal, Herb was responsible for leading his section as they moved across the Somme. The German artillery and machine-gunners peppered the advancing Australians.

Despite his youth, Herb showed remarkable bravery. ‘…He handled his command skilfully in attacking the enemy. He personally accounted for several of the enemy, and by his courage and coolness in the face of heavy fire set a fine example to his men…’ Major Richard Geddes, who was Acting Commanding Officer of the 31st Battalion, recommended Herb for the Military Medal. (The decoration was awarded on 19 October).

The last major action of the war for the 31st Battalion was in September 1918 when the 3rd and 5th Australian Divisions, and two American divisions attacked the Hindenburg Line across the top of the St Quentin Canal tunnel – a formidable obstacle in the German defensive system.

On the final day of September, with the desperate enemy throwing everything at the attacking troops, Herb was caught by a phosgene shell and badly gassed. He was eventually evacuated to England and was still in the Beaufort War Hospital in Bristol when the war finally ended.

Herb was able to enjoy Christmas 1918 on leave. Due to his record of service and the after effects of the gassing, he was given the opportunity for an early return to Australia. He boarded the transport Lancashire on 7 February 1919.

‘An enjoyable evening, in the form of a welcome home’ was held for Herb on 1 April. Mr and Mrs R. Fry opened their home at 307 Clyde Street for the celebrations. The Soldiers Hill Scouts formed a guard of honour, and preceded the car carrying the young soldier to the house, where the Scouts’ Bugle Band played a special selection. It was noted that Herb was still under treatment in hospital in Melbourne, and it was hoped that he would ‘soon be restored to health again.’

At the Melbourne Town Hall on 13 June 1919, Herb was presented with his Meritorious Service Medal by His Excellency, the Governor-General Sir Ronald Munro Ferguson. After four years of service, Herb was still just 20 years-old.

For Edward and Amelia Collins there was great relief that both their soldier sons had returned home, but the strain and worry had left a distinct mark. Edward Collins had been suffering from heart disease for at least two years. His death on 1 August 1919 was not unexpected, but it was still a particularly sad time for the family who had survived so much.

When Frank married his fiancée, Emma Margaret Collins, at the Footscray Baptist Church, on 20 September 1919, the family was still dealing with their grief.

Fortunately, theirs was a marriage of great love that was capable of helping Frank heal from his war experience and the loss of his father.

Over the ensuing years they lived several Melbourne suburbs and Frank worked at various occupations – a French polisher, labourer, contractor and once again as a mechanic. They raised three sons – Des, Val and Austin – in what appears to have been a very happy home.

During the Second World War, Frank worked as the live-in caretaker of Capel Court in Collins Street, Melbourne, that housed the offices of the Department of Information.
Late one night, Frank heard noises in the lane way next to Capel Court. He went down to investigate and found a US marine trying to hot wire his truck.

Thinking quickly, Frank told his youngest son, Austin, “Son, get me gat (gun) and call the yank MPs.!” By the time the MPs arrived, Frank had whacked the marine on the head with his gun and had him in a headlock with his stump, much to the MP’s surprise. Not bad for a one-armed veteran!

Sadly, Frank was not destined to make “old bones”. On Christmas Day 1949, he suffered a heart attack. He was taken to the Heidelberg Repatriation Hospital, where he lingered for three weeks. His death on 15 January 1950 was devastating. Em’s tender tribute to her husband of 31 years said it all,

‘At rest, sweetheart. Until we meet again.’

In a tragic coda to their story, Em, who had been in aged care with dementia, wandered away from the facility on 3 January 1976 and into the path of a train at the level crossing in Church Street, Brighton. She was killed instantly.

Life for Herb Collins was dramatically affected by the damage done by the phosgene gas. For the first few years after the war, he returned to the family home in Eureka Street. He resumed his pre-war occupation as a fitter, but continued to suffer physically.

In 1924, he married Alice May Victoria Clugston and they settled in the Melbourne suburb of Malvern. They had just two children – Alan John and Amelia Jane.

Despite the high early death rate of those gassed on the Western Front, Herb survived remarkably well. Unlike his big brother, he lived a relatively long life and died on 21 August 1975.

The Collins family service continued during WWII – both Des and Val, Frank’s elder sons, served in the Royal Australian Air Force. They were still training in England when Germany was defeated and war in Europe came to an end. Herb’s son, Alan, served as an able seaman onboard HMAS Lonsdale in the latter stages of the war.

In remembering that letter in a bottle, thrown into the ocean by a group of adventurous Ballarat boys, it is important to note that the young men who signed their names to that postcard paid dearly for their experience of war. Fred Rawlings and Alex Wilson were killed on the 20 and 21 July 1916 respectively; Charlie Coutts and Wallie Hicks were killed in action at Polygon Wood in September 1917; while Charles Walker Tucker died of wounds received during the Battle of Mont St Quentin on 3 November 1918.

Of the remaining nine soldiers all but two were wounded in action.

In telling the stories of Frank and Herb Collins two more pieces of that intriguing puzzle were finally put together. But that was only possible because of a chance encounter in 2010, just prior to the dedication of the new cemetery at Pheasant Wood, Fromelles. I was visiting VC Corner when I met a fellow Aussie who was there to mark the discovery of the remains of Ballarat’s Fred Rawlings – a friend of his grandfather, Frank Collins. Now, I am proud to be able to call Leigh Collins, a long serving member of the RAAF, my friend. The circle, it seemed, was complete.