Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

From Ballarat & District in the Great War
 
When people develop a strong connection to an area, there is a deep feeling of pride, of belonging. That was certainly the case with the Blight family of Mount Pleasant.

Peter Blight was born in the Cornish seaside town of St Ives in 1825. He arrived in Ballarat with his young wife in the year leading up to the historic Eureka Stockade, and settled in Mount Pleasant. From the family home in Barkly Street, he worked as a carpenter.

His third child, John White Blight, was to become a highly respected teacher at State Schools in and around Ballarat. He married Susan Ward Simons at Ballarat on 24 May 1883. Susan was born in the mining village of Crowan, which meant their children had the great inheritance of being effectively Cornish.
John and Susan would produce three soldier sons – Ivie Beaumont “Ivo” Blight, born at Millbrook in 8 September 1889, George Elmo Blight born on 5 December 1894 and their youngest son, Sidney Willerton, on 4 July 1896 – both were born at Bungaree.

Ivo began his education at the Bungaree State School, where their father was head teacher. When John Blight was transferred to the Dana Street State School in the centre of Ballarat in the early 1900’s, Sid was enrolled at the same school. Elmo studied at the Macarthur Street State School, whilst Ivo was soon to begin his career with the Union Bank of Australasia.
The boys all became scholars at the Lydiard Street Methodist Church Sunday School. Elmo, in particular, enjoyed performing and writing – he competed at Royal South Street where he won many prizes in the elocution and literary competitions.

Moving back to Ballarat also allowed for closer contact to the extended family. It was a specific point of pride that Peter Blight was now known as the oldest resident in Mount Pleasant.

Music was also a central part of life for the Blight family. Whilst John conducted various school choirs, including that of the Lydiard Street Methodist Sunday School, his daughters, Vera, Crena and Edna featured prominently, singing and playing organ for many of the performances. Elmo was also a fine singer, performing duets and quartets with his sisters.
In October 1904, Elmo and Crena were members of the winning choir in the Sunday School Choral Contest, singing “Faint Not, Fear Not, God is Near Thee,” and the “Happy Spring Waltz”.

As his voice matured Elmo was considered polished enough to undertake solo work alongside the likes of George Lemke, Dolly Trotman and Syd Hobson under the direction of noted conductor, Haydn West.

On 20 April 1908, the Blights found themselves caught up in a terrible tragedy that was to effect dozens of Ballarat families. The second eldest of the Blight children, Algie, had left home on the evening train heading into Melbourne. The train was packed with holiday-makers and, as a result, was two carriages longer than usual. It was just pulling out of the Sunshine station when it was hit from behind by a speeding Bendigo train. The resulting impact absolutely destroyed the guard’s van and the four rear carriages, reducing them to splinters and shards of timber. Casualties were horrendous – 44 were killed and more than 400 were injured. Amongst those who died in the crash was Algie Blight. It is still Victoria’s worst rail disaster.

Following in his brother Algy’s footsteps, Elmo had already become a draper by the time of the accident. He was employed by the firm of Harry Davies and Company as an apprentice when he was just a lad of 14.

Elmo also developed a keen interest in military matters. He joined the Senior Cadets of the 70th Infantry Regiment, eventually commanding C Company at the Brigade Competitions held at the Western Oval in March 1914. He then transferred to the adult ranks of the 71st Infantry Regiment, where he received his commission.

It was therefore inevitable that Elmo would choose to serve with the Australian Imperial Force. He is recorded as having enlisted at Melbourne on 5 May 1915. However, it appears that he actually enlisted in early February, because he, along with Stan Kitchen and Vernon Quick, had been the recipients of a farewell on Sunday 7 March 1915 that was held by members of the Young Men’s Club of the Lydiard Street Methodist Church.

By this time, he had served five and a half years of his apprenticeship, and was just six months off his 21st birthday. Undergoing the standard medical examination, Elmo was recorded as standing 5-feet 7¼-inches in height and weighing 9-stone 12-pounds. He also had a good expanded chest measurement of 35½-inches. His complexion was described as fresh, whilst his eyes and hair were brown.

Having successfully passed the doctor, Elmo immediately went into camp. In making the choice to forego a commission, he was signed on initially as a private and issued the regimental number of 1154 with D Company of the 23rd Infantry Battalion. His commanding officer was Ballarat’s George Morton, an officer with whom he would have been well acquainted.

Just two days after signing his paperwork, Elmo was promoted to the rank of sergeant. He then embarked from Port Melbourne on 10 May onboard HMAT Euripides.

It had become immediately apparent that it was only a matter of time before Elmo would receive his commission – and that was realised on 23 August 1915, when he was appointed to the rank of second-lieutenant. He immediately cabled the news through to his father.

The 23rd Battalion was given an extended period to settle into life as a unit after arriving in Egypt, and they did not embark for Gallipoli until 6am on 30 August. The voyage through the Aegean Sea was not without its excitement – and lifebelts were very much at the ready. There was also the added thrill of being inoculated against cholera!

After landing at ANZAC on Sunday night of 3 September, Elmo wrote to his parents that he had been met by a ‘hail of bullets…but still, I did not fear, nor in any way feel queer. All of my men got ashore, and we camped in a gully all night with bullets flying over our heads, but still, it made no difference to us, and we slept soundly.

We camped in the gully for one and a half days, and then the order came for us to take up our position in the trenches. I came out this morning for a 48 hours' rest, after being in 48 hours. I am in perfect health, and quite happy. I am well cared for, and eat well.
The dug-out is our home, where I am now writing, this letter. I have everything that I require, medicine chest, Bovril, chocolate, and different meats. There is a lot I would like to tell you, but the news necessarily must be limited, so you must excuse it if uninteresting.

Active service is not too bad, notwithstanding the disastrous experiences one gets accustomed to. I have met several Ballarat boys, and they were delighted to see me. Paper and envelopes are the only scarce articles here, so I desire some whenever you write.

All the Ballarat officers are well, and it is grand to be back with them again, and to have once again the honour of being in charge of men. The scenery is beautiful, but the flies and lice are troublesome, although I have a cure for them all, so I am not worried.

The weather now compels us to use our coats. Our work at times is strenuous. I have seen some wonderful things, which cannot be explained in the letter. Just before writing this I have not had a wash for three days, so you must imagine how I feel and look. Shaving is out of the question while engaged so busily.

It was cheering to me to get a letter from my employer, Mr Fred Davies. who, I hope, is well. Several of my old firm's hands have also written to me, and many friends.

South Street Competitions will be just over when you receive this, but I would sooner be here now than having to again compete while all the strength is required for our nation…’

When news was received that Ballarat’s William Dunstan had been awarded the Victoria Cross, Elmo Blight was one of the first to write from the Front to congratulate his old friend. The letter was sent to his own parents with the request as follows…
‘…Gallipoli 7/12/15
It is a long time since I have written, but circumstances did not permit, and time bad to pass by. Two days ago I reached my majority, and thank God I am still alive and well. My 21st birthday was therefore spent in the trenches, and although the handshakes and congratulations were few; I knew all at home were wishing me well, and hoping for my safe return.

I have to the present received your letters consecutively with one exception, which is at the bottom of the sea. I am still enjoying good health, which is the exception here, and I have been here now 14 weeks. During that period l have put in some rough times, and should I be permitted to return I shall be able to tell you many incidents which I can never forget, to describe the sights I have seen and the deeds that have been done.

It was a pleasure for me to hear of W. Dunstan's honor, and I know exactly what he did, and we are at present occupying the same position. Will you forward the enclosed letter to him, as you know his address…’
[Copy of letter to William Dunstan VC]
‘…Gallipoli.

Dear Will,
It is with very great pleasure I write you a few lines of congratulation in having won the coveted honour the V.C. I am sure you thoroughly deserved it, and since I have been here I have learnt of the work that was done by you during the time you were on Gallipoli.
Knowing you personally, it is a great pleasure for me to write you. Ballarat should be proud of you, and I feel proud to belong (and so do all the officers of the 23rd Battalion) to a city which claims a V.C. winner. You have brought credit to your parents, your city, the Commonwealth, and yourself. Your work was carried out bravely and with great risk to yourself. Your deeds should be an inspiration to those who have not felt it yet their duty to enlist, and an example of the possibilities before one.

I have been here nearly four months, and know exactly what you had to do to have this honour conferred upon you.

I trust you may soon be restored to perfect health, and again return to still help your comrades to conquer the foe with your Australian mates. I wish you and your people unbounded success, and if I be permitted to return to Ballarat, I hope to be able to unfold the story of your deeds in Gallipoli.

You have my best wishes for the future, and I hope I may someday be able to shake you by the hand to personally congratulate you. Yours very sincerely,
GEO E. BLIGHT, Lt…’

Shortly after the above was written, Elmo Blight, and the entire AIF, had been evacuated from the Peninsula. After disembarking at Alexandria on 10 January, Elmo immediately cabled to his parents to let them know when he had arrived safely at Cairo.

As had become common practice, members of the AIF were recipients of care packages and Christmas billies from any number of organisations and relief funds. Church groups were particularly productive in this regard and saw to it that the former members of their congregation were kept well provided for.

‘…31/1/16 To the officers, teachers, and scholars of the Lydiard street Methodist Sunday school: — It was not until this morning that I received your parcel from the Sunday school, and I can assure you I appreciated the trouble and the kindness that has been shown by all at the school in sending to each one such a valuable gift. The contents were excellent, and were quickly put out of sight.

It is these little acts of kindness that makes the world go round; and you can all feel confident that you have given joy to many here, and helped to make our Christmas and New Year as enjoyable as possible under the circumstances.

We are glad that we are still remembered by those at the school, and we cannot forget the place where we received such training. Although thousands of miles away from church and school, we still think of you all each Sunday in the good old work that is being done.
Lydiard street is well represented here, and the church can feel proud to think they have so many men at the front to do their duty to God, King and Empire.

Remember me to all officers, teachers, and comrades of the Sunday school, and tell them how much we all appreciate, their gift, and we only hope that early in 1916 will see us all safe and sound again in Australia.
With best wishes for the New Year, and may the good work you are doing prosper in every way…’

The New Year continued with further advancement for Elmo – he was at Ismailia when he was promoted to full lieutenant on 1 March 1916.

The 23rd Battalion was one of the first units of the AIF to leave Egypt for France – they embarked at Alexandria on 20 March onboard the transport Lake Michigan. It was apparently a smooth, trouble-free crossing, and they landed at Marseilles on 26 March.
From the moment they arrived in France, Elmo confirmed his importance as a ‘very reliable and capable young officer’ with the 23rd. His ‘conspicuous keenness and energy’ in the line forward of Fleurbaix and in the Armentières sector brought him to the attention of his senior officers. He further distinguished himself commanding a company charged with consolidating positions gained during the attack on Pozieres Ridge on the night of 28/29 July.
They were still in the line at Pozieres on the 4/5 August. Elmo was again leading his men as they entrenched under heavy machine gun fire. His company suffered heavy losses and he himself was wounded in action on 4 August.

The next day, Elmo was evacuated from the line and admitted to the 36th Field Ambulance suffering from a gunshot wound to his lower right side. Although the wound was not deemed serious, he was immediately sent on to the 44th Casualty Clearing Station before being transferred to the 20th General Hospital in Camiers.

Back in Ballarat, John Blight received a private cable message (not through government channels) letting him know that his son had been wounded. Although it had not at that stage been officially confirmed, he had been assured that the wound was not serious.

On 13 August, Elmo was placed on a hospital ship to be invalided to England. HS Dieppe sailed early the next morning and before the day was out, he had arrived at the 3rd London General Hospital in Wandsworth. It was there that a full medical examination was undertaken where it was discovered that Elmo had sustained a small, penetrating wound of the posterior right side just above the iliac crest. X-rays confirmed there were no foreign bodies in the wound, but he was still suffering considerable pain in the abdomen.

By 23 August, although the wound was still inflamed and weeping, the skin was beginning to heal. It was concluded that he would be fit for duty in four weeks.
Interestingly, his father finally received official notification that his son had suffered a mile gunshot wound to the back on 27 August – three weeks after the event.

When Elmo next wrote to his father, he was able to give him a clearer idea of his recovery.
‘…After presenting myself before a medical board, consisting of a major, captain, and civilian doctor, I was passed as fit to leave the hospital, and I was then invited to go to Newbury, to recuperate at an English home. From the hospital, with Lieut. Moss, we were driven to Paddington station, en route to Newbury. We were met at the station, and driven in a car to Hollington House, Newbury.

The drive from the station was about two miles through beautiful surroundings. Mrs Kelly, the lady of Hollington House, was waiting to meet us and straightaway made us feel at home. Mr Kelly, who is a magistrate of the civil court, was in London, on business. Capt. Kelly, son of the above people, was reported as missing early in the war, and his father and mother embrace the opportunity to help to brighten the lives of wounded officers.

There were six other officers there; two were Australians, whom I knew, two English, and two Canadians. So, we were a happy family. I felt at home immediately.

The lovely home is an estate, which covers many acres. We had afternoon tea in the "dairy," a small brick building, beautifully furnished with every convenience. From this building, which overlooks the main building, you have a view of the surroundings, which present a lovely picture.

When the dinner gong sounded, we were introduced into the dining hall, and words fail me to enumerate the grandeur of this room. Beautiful silverware and shining cutlery baffles my description. All of them seemed too good to handle.

Before sitting down to the meal Mrs Kelly said grace, all at the table standing whilst so doing. The menu numbered several courses, and all of us left a good impression. Lemonade and other soft drinks were abundant. Of course, we were very careful to be guarded in our manners.

Knowing that we had just come out of the Pozieres battle, they simply could not do enough for us. There were a piano and other instruments available, so some of us did a little voice training.

We went to bed early, and slept soundly.

The maids dressed in fancy costumes, wait on us hand and foot, and before we rise a preliminary breakfast is brought to our room. After the main breakfast, which has also many courses, we enjoy walking through the grounds, and those who are able play tennis and croquet. The carriage and beautiful pair of horses take us for a drive every day through the surrounding parks.

From the balconies one has a magnificent view of the county, everything so peaceful and quiet, with the exception of the thrilly notes of the, English birds. It is, indeed, a great contrast to the city.

Enclosed is a photo of the mansion, and you will, I am sure, agree with my description. Mr and Mrs Kelly think the world of us, and if we were at Buckingham Palace our treatment could not be excelled. They love to hear us relate our experiences.

As my wound is nearly healed, my restful time will shortly come to an end and my battalion will need me to take my part in the trenches, where stiff work is ahead…’

After leaving Hollington House, Elmo returned to duty at the No1 Command Depot at Perham Downs.
One of his saddest tasks, indeed that of any officer, was communicating condolences to the families of fallen soldiers. The following letter of sympathy was written to the parents of Robert Bond Middleton, a 25-year-old saddler from Richmond, who had been killed in action at Pozieres on 28 July 1916.

‘…I have been his platoon commander since he left Australia and he was loved and respected by all who knew him. He did his-duty well and was always willing to help his comrades who were in danger. He was always bright and he died happy, knowing that he had done his duty for King and Country.

The life that he led was a pure one and an example for any man to follow. He will be greatly missed and his place will be hard to fill.

Will you on behalf of my men accept our deepest sympathy in your great trouble and our prayer is that God will be with you in your loss…’

Elmo’s work in the trenches at Pozieres had resulted in him being recommended for the Military Cross.
‘…In spite of heavy losses this officer stuck to his ground on 28/29 July and dug in. His reports were of great value in clearing up the situation, and his conduct showed him to be a valuable young officer…’
This was, however, downgraded to a Mention in General Douglas Haig’s Despatches of 13 November ‘for distinguished and gallant services and devotion to duty in the Field.’ Then in the New Year’s Honours List of 1 January 1917, he received promotion to the rank of captain. Elmo once again immediately cabled the news through to his father and the announcement was then released to newspapers around Ballarat.

As the months passed with no sign of Elmo being sent back to the frontline, the decision was made to transfer him to the Army Ordinance Corps on 17 September. He was then appointed as Deputy Assistant Director of Ordinance Supplies at the Tidworth Camp with a staff of around 80 men under his command. In August 1918, that role was extended to cover all AIF Depots in the United Kingdom. In recognition of his critical work during this period, he was granted the rank of temporary major on 1 January 1919.

Although the war was now over, Elmo was required to continue his role well into 1919.

On 14 November, the day before he sailed home to Australia, the temporary aspect of his rank was altered to that of honorary major.

As a final recognition of his work behind the lines, Elmo was made an Officer of the Order of the British Empire. The award was announced on 12 December 1919 and formally conferred three months later on 10 March 1920. His appointment to the AIF was then terminated on 26 March.

By the time Elmo arrived safely back in Australia, his family had relinquished their home in Lydiard Street, Ballarat, and removed to West Brunswick, where John Blight had taken the position of head master at the local State School.
His older brother, Ivo, had also returned from active duty on 28 March 1919. He was, however, already carrying the tuberculosis bacillus that would ultimately kill him.

Their younger brother, Sid, who had arrived in Europe when the war was all but over, had returned home on 1 November 1919 without having seen a shot fired in anger.

Elmo resumed his pre-war career in the clothing trade, this time in manufacturing.

In April 1922, his engagement to Muriel Speechly Hamilton Ker was announced. Muriel was the third daughter of a Melbourne sharebroker, and was born at Brighton in 1895. It was to be a very long engagement…

The Blight family suffered two sad losses in quick succession – John White Blight, who had been approaching his jubilee year as a teacher, died quite suddenly on 13 June 1922. Of all his fine achievements, one that stood out to any afficionado of sport was the occasion when he had represented a Ballarat XI against an Australian team lead by the legendary cricketer, Fred Spofforth.

Then, on 2 November 1923, in what was described as ‘another tragedy of the war [that] ended at Caulfield Hospital,’ Ivo Blight succumbed to the illness that had plagued his life since returning to Australia.
According to family sources, Elmo and Muriel finally married in 1938, with the ceremony taking place in Perth, Western Australia. The couple had only child, a daughter they named Wendy Elizabeth.

Many veterans of the Great War saw it as their duty to offer their services once again when the world collapsed into a second global conflict. Elmo Blight was amongst their ranks. He enlisted at South Melbourne on 16 October 1940 and commanded the 17 Garrison Battalion. After being discharged from the 2nd AIF on 9 February 1944, Elmo returned to his family in Logan Street, Geelong.

Having experienced a life of infinite variety and outstanding service to his country and the Commonwealth, George Elmo Blight died at Geelong on 10 November 1949. He was remembered as a ‘dearly beloved husband,’ and brother, and a ‘loving daddy’. He was only a month short of his 55th birthday.