Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

From Ballarat & District in the Great War

Many of the small communities around Ballarat were, like the city itself, founded initially on the lure of gold. Towns like Buninyong and Creswick grew exponentially as a result of successful mining of large deposits, but there were also a number of smaller communities that likewise depended almost solely on mining. Many, like the rural village of Haddon, southwest of Ballarat, registered its own profitable leads and supported a relatively large population. Haddon was later to provide a significant number of young men to the units of the Great War.

Leslie Thomas Carland was born at Haddon on 1 March 1895. He was the third child of Francis Patrick “Frank” Carland and Ellen “Nellie” Cox. His father was also locally born, arriving at Trunk Lead (just over two miles from Haddon) on 26 September 1863. The Carland family were, however, natives of Londonderry in Northern Ireland.

Leslie received his elementary education at the Haddon State School, where he displayed considerable promise as a scholar. He graduated to the new Ballarat Agricultural High School in 1910 and was admitted to the special course aimed at a career in the public service.

Ballarat High School had only been open for a year when Leslie Carland was first enrolled. The school was to develop a particularly fine reputation in training military cadets, and throughout his time in Ballarat Leslie was involved with the senior cadets and then the local citizen forces.

When he graduated from Ballarat High, Leslie began working as a clerk for the Victorian Railways. He then moved to Tasmania where he was first employed as clerk in the office of shipping agents, Holyman & Sons. He then took a position in the Launceston store office of major grocers, Moran & Cato.

The first call for volunteers to fill the ranks of the Australian Imperial Force was met with unprecedented numbers. Leslie Carland was amongst the first to offer his services in defence of the Empire – he enlisted at Brighton, about 16 miles north of Hobart, on 28 August 1914. Despite being under age, there was no record of him producing his parent’s consent to enlist, nor was there any mention of his previous military training when he completed his attestation papers.

Physically, Leslie had no difficulty passing the medical examination – he was 5-feet 6½-inches tall, weighed 10-stone 12-pounds and could expand his chest to a more than adequate 36-inches. He had the fair complexion, brown hair and blue eyes so prevalent in those of Irish extraction. Whilst most of the Carland family were members of the Roman Catholic faith, Leslie, like his parents, belonged to the Church of England.

After being accepted into the AIF, Leslie immediately went into camp at Brighton where he was assigned to the original 12th Infantry Battalion and posted to C Company.

Just days out from the scheduled embarkation, Leslie found himself in a spot of bother when he was marked Absent Without Leave from 12 to 15 October at Pontville. It was perhaps due to the imminent departure that he was not more harshly dealt with – he was fined £1 and had to forfeit a further four day’s pay.

On 20 October, Leslie and his comrades boarded the Blue Anchor Line steamer, HMAT Geelong, at Hobart. They joined the other troopships that comprised the First Contingent to begin the trek around the Australian coast to Albany. The full contingent converged and anchored in St George’s Sound before sailing for Colombo on 1 November.
In a letter written to his father, Leslie spoke about the size of the convoy (‘there were 24 troopships and some cruisers’) and mentioned that all their letters were being censored.

At 3:30pm on 2 December, the Geelong reached the famous Suez Canal. Once again, they came to anchor, this time off Port Said, during the very early hours of the following day.

The men of the 12th Battalion spent the remainder of 1914 and the first months of 1915 in rigorous training around Mena Camp outside Cairo. Of course, when not route marching, mock skirmishing, and firing on the rifle range, the men were able to become proper tourists of the ancient land of Egypt – the sights and smells of Cairo, including the delights of the seedier areas like the infamous Wozzer, the souvenir hawkers, the orange and egg sellers, camel rides to the pyramids and the Sphinx were experiences sought out by most of the Allied troops. The heat and the sand were less popular, especially as time dragged on and the men became anxious to “have a go” at “Johnny Turk”.

On 1 March 1915, the 12th Battalion embarked from Alexandria onboard the transport Devanha, ‘destination unknown.’ They arrived at the Greek island of Lemnos three days later, where the invasion force for the proposed landing in the Dardanelles gradually began to amass. In what was a doubly noteworthy time, Leslie celebrated his 20th birthday on the day his battalion sailed from Egypt.

The 21 April was a significant day for the assembled troops when orders covering the Landing at Gallipoli were formally received. Although, it was apparent to all involved exactly what the build-up at Lemnos had indicated – it wasn’t a case of if, just when.

At 2pm on 24 April the 12th Battalion sailed out of Mudros Harbour. The contingent rendezvoused off the Gallipoli Peninsula at 10pm the same day. Leslie Carland was one of the nervous, excited men loaded into boats for the proposed landing at 4pm, dawn, on 25 April – forever to be enshrined as the original ANZACs.

The Landing itself was fraught with problems from the outset – the first boats drifted and became bunched forcing a landing a mile north of the intended beach. Intense fire from the well-warned Turkish artillery focused on the main force that landed on a narrow front. Different units became intermixed and reforming to launch a co-ordinated attack became almost impossible. In the confusion men fell and were never seen again, many did not even make it out of the landing boats.

Nobody actually knows exactly what happened to young Leslie Carland. Even his date of death is open to interpretation and debate. His unit recorded that he fell in action sometime during the first three days of the campaign. In newspaper reports he was listed as having been killed in action ‘between 25 April and 10 May.’ The Field Return list bears the date 2 May 1915, and, although this was possibly a paperwork date, it is now accepted as when Leslie was killed. If he did indeed make it beyond the initial landing, then he may well have taken part in an Australian attack on Turkish positions at the Bloody Angle and Baby 700 on 2 May.

Confusion continued further through reports back in Australia. When Leslie’s friends had not heard from him ‘for some considerable time,’ they became concerned that a mistake had been made in published casualty lists. H. H. Hodgman, who had worked as a clerk alongside Leslie at Moran & Cato in Launceston, was prompted to write a letter to Base Records. He included a newspaper cutting that listed thirteen men who had been killed in action, twelve of who were men from the 12th. Amongst those listed had been an L. T. Garland. Hodgman questioned whether the article was accurate given the similarity of the names. He added that his young friend was ‘…greatly esteemed by all…’

Another friend at Moran & Cato, Jack Cardwell, received erroneous news from a returned sergeant major, who said that Leslie had been wounded in the thigh and was in No1 Hospital at Heliopolis in Egypt, and would soon be onboard a hospital ship returning to Australia. Cardwell described Leslie as his ‘great friend.’ It was obvious that many were holding onto the hope that Leslie Carland would somehow emerge safely. Sadly, there was to be no good news. Leslie was dead; his body was never recovered – perhaps he still lies in an unmarked grave somewhere among the hills and gullies of Gallipoli. His name was later commemorated on the Lone Pine Memorial.

Leslie’s parents were notified of his death on 10 June 1915. His personal effects – a gift box, cards, coins, a key chain and his own prayer book and Testament were eventually sent home. His mother was granted a pension of £30 a year some three months after his death. She also spent several years proving that she was the appropriate recipient for his War Gratuity. Grief for those lost on the battlefield was inevitably made more complicated as a result of these ongoing paperwork battles.