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From Ballarat & District in the Great War

Sgt Herbert Ludwig Rasmussen, 8th Inf. Bn.

As a bandsman, Bert Rasmussen was one of the finest in Australia; as a bandmaster he was quite a firecracker! Although it was music that defined his life, his contribution to the nation across two wars was remarkable.

Herbert Ludwig Rasmussen was born at Allendale on 1 April 1896. His parents, Rasmus Ludwig Rasmussen and Charlotte Louisa Cook, provided their seven children with a rich and varied ancestral background. While Charlotte was born at Durham Lead in 1868, her family was from London, with origins in Islington and St Pancras. Rasmus Rasmussen was also Australian born, arriving at Creswick a year earlier than his wife. His mother came from the little English village of Blyford in Suffolk. But his father, Erich Jørgen Ole Rasmussen, came from the small Danish island of Thurø, southeast of Funen and part of the municipality of Svendborg.

The surname Rasmussen is not uncommon in Australia due to immigration during the goldrush years. But in Denmark and Norway, as a result of the naming system, Rasmussen is seen frequently – it literally means “son of Rasmus.”

Now, because this article has a distinctly musical flavour, I found it interesting to discover that Denmark boasts the oldest professional brass band in the world – the Royal Guards of Denmark, which was founded by King Frederik III in 1658.

Bert, who was Ludwig and Charlotte’s fifth child, was to discover a unique musical talent at an early age that was to sustain him his entire life.

In the late 1890’s, the Rasmussen family moved to Castlemaine, where the last of the children were born, and baby Edward Otto, was to die soon after birth on 16 October 1905. They lived in Forest Street near the Gas Works.

Things were not always as disciplined for the Rasmussen children as Bert’s character would lead you to believe – on 14 July 1905, Ludwig Rasmussen was fined five-shillings at the Castlemaine Police Court for ‘insufficient attendance of their children at school.’

Although Bert would later state that he was a member of the Church of England, he attended St Mary’s Boys’ School. It was there that he first came to the notice of the large brass band community. In June 1910, the St Mary’s Boys’ Band was formed by the Reverend Father Patrick O’Reilly, with the parents paying for the instruments. The bandmaster was leading cornet player and instructor, Arthur Homan Frank Taylor.

From the outset, young Bert showed a unique talent on the euphonium. Taylor, who was also bandmaster at the Castlemaine Borough Band, quickly recruited the young player. Bert joined the band in 1911, one of six new junior players, winning the medal for ‘best all-round recruit.’ At the time the Borough Band numbered 28-players.

Showing a dedication and enthusiasm that never left him, Bert received a medal in 1912 for the most attendances at practice and turn-outs – he wasn’t absent once. On 4 December, the same year, Bert took out the brass solo at the juvenile competitions inaugurated by the local branch of the Australian Natives’ Association. Bert finished in first place in the brass solo. The adjudicator, Mr Alvin Finster, from Bendigo, was ‘greatly pleased’ by the standard of the brass playing, which he considered was ‘brilliant…considering the age of the players.’

The following notes were made by Finster on Bert’s performance.

‘…Very good rendition, clean tone, slipped a note in the cadenza; again in variation 1; lento movement, slipped a note in second sextolet; a very good performance; one of the best euphonium players I have ever heard…’

In October 1913, Bert ventured into the senior competitive arena as a soloist at the Royal South Street Eisteddfod in Ballarat. Although he only placed sixth, the achievement was seen as very positive given the quality of brass players in that era. He also competed with the St Mary’s Boys’ Band in the ensemble competition.

At the Bendigo Lyric Competitions, held in November 1913, Bert was the winner of the euphonium solo. But the following season proved to be his break out year.
For the South Street competitions of 1914, Bert was coached by the bandmaster of Castlemaine’s Thompson’s Foundry Band, Mr C. H. Richards. In winning the euphonium solo, Bert became the Victorian champion. His brother, Hans, who had only been playing the B-Flat bass for six months, placed fourth in his section.

Bert had also taken his first post as bandmaster. The 18-year-old was handed the baton to take over the newly-formed Chewton Citizens’ Band. On Christmas Day the band played at a fete in aid of the local Church of England. The event was held in the gardens of the Purches family.

The band, which was bolstered by a number of players from Castlemaine, marched from the Post Office to the ground and ‘gave the residents a treat.’

‘…It is a long time since we had the pleasure of hearing a band of our own in Chewton, and the band and leader may be congratulated on the great progress they have made in the short time which has elapsed since their formation. As they marched along the street playing "Sons of the Sea" a proud mother was heard to exclaim "Why they are all out of tune but our boy" - their boy is just learning…’

Of course, the only topic of conversation on anyone’s lips at that point, was the war.

The local military unit, the 66th Infantry Regiment, of which Bert had been a member for the previous five years, had been mobilised for defensive duty at the Queenscliff battery and other government installations, in November. People were stirred by evocative images of men in uniform marching along hot, dusty roads behind the battalion band playing “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,” and “The Dashing White Sergeant.”

And it was clearly at the forefront of Bert Rasmussen’s thoughts. He approached his father, asking for consent to join the army. Ludwig provided his permission, co-signed by Charlotte Rasmussen; the small scrap of paper, dated 8 July 1915, held incredible power.

‘This is to certify that I, L. Rasmussen, father of Herbert Ludwig Rasmussen, do hereby concent (sic) to his enlistment in the Expeditionary Forces for service abroad.’

Bert then presented himself at the Castlemaine recruitment depot. Doctor John D. Scott King conducted the physical examination. Although he was just 19 (not the 20 years as stated on his paperwork), Bert was a particularly fine figure – he stood 5-feet 10-inches tall, weighed 11-stone 2-pounds, with a 35½-inch expanded chest. His lung capacity would have been excellent!

Although he was passed fit, Bert was required to attend a re-examination in Melbourne on 13 July. His paperwork was then duly signed and he officially became a member of the AIF.

Two weeks later Bert entered the Castlemaine Camp. He was assigned to A Company of the 20th Depot Battalion with the rank of sergeant, but his main task was organising the camp band.

By September, Bert was the Castlemaine Camp bandmaster. The band became a familiar sight leading the new recruits on route marches.

‘…Bert Rasmussen, led the way, and the steady rhythmical tramp of the hundreds of soldiers was most inspiring…’

On 14 September, a soldiers’ concert to raise funds for the Camp Entertainment Fund was held at the Castlemaine Town Hall. Bert conducted the Camp Band in front of the hall before the concert and then ‘rendered a selection on the stage in capital style.’ The entire programme was in the hands of the soldiers and the concert produced a profit of £50.

With his embarkation date fast approaching, Bert showed a flash of the fiery character that would become his trademark.

‘…The 200 soldiers who are to join the next batch of reinforcements left Castlemaine on Thursday morning about 11 o'clock. They were a remarkably handy-looking lot. A sad calamity happened the camp band on the previous day. Bert Rasmussen, who brought it to a creditable pitch of musical perfection, got so disgusted with the ups and downs incidental to such a movable quantity as residents of a military camp, that he threw up the job and joined the reinforcements himself. Thus the noble 200 marched to the station with nothing more inspiring than the smiles and sheep's-eyes cast at them from the side walks by many of the local girls…’

Bert arrived at Broadmeadows Camp on 25 November, where he joined the 13th reinforcements for the 5th Infantry Battalion. His regimental number was 4279.
With his farewells said, Bert sailed for the Front. The troopship Demosthenes left Melbourne on 29 December.

From this point there was a noticeable gap in the records – not just those pertaining to Bert Rasmussen, but to anyone in this batch of reinforcements attached to the band.

A letter written by Castlemaine bandsman Will Cogley, who was at Tel-el-Kebir in early 1916, placed Bert in Egypt.

‘…Bert Rasmussen, of Castlemaine, has now taken over the band; the other chap gave it over to him, as he recognised in Bert a superior musician, so there is no doubt we will improve greatly now…’

John Joseph Gervasoni, from Yandoit Hills, travelled to England with Bert Rasmussen. Mrs D. Dempsey from Franklinford received the following letter.

‘…Just a few lines hoping they will reach your safely and find you all in the best of health, as this leaves me at present, excepting a slight cold after coming from a hot climate to such a cold one. Nearly all are feeling the effects of the change.

We left Tel-el-Kebir for Alexandria on May 29th, a journey of about 100 miles, and reached the Port at 4a.m. Although the trip was made in open trucks—no seats or anything—and in darkness, it was quite pleasant. Here we embarked on the ———, a captured German vessel, which we are making very good use of these times, and steamed out at 7 p.m. In this port the hospital ships, commercial boats, and many minor classes. The — , another transport, left five hours before us with 1700 troops on board; our boat carried 2500. We never caught sight of her till reaching England, where we both arrived safely.

The Mediterranean Sea is not very safe these times and a boat on such an errand as ours is running great risks. We have to steer a zig, zag course, and are often miles out of the ordinary route to dodge the waiting submarines. We did not call at Italy. We lost sight of land till passing ______which appears to be a large town, and on the 7th reached _______. Only a few officials were allowed ashore here, as we only stayed long enough to take on a supply of water and rations.

Whilst at_______ we learned of the loss of Lord Kitchener.

In about eight hours we headed for England, the weather getting colder, very foggy and rainy, which was very uncommon for us, inducing us to turn out our kit-bags and put on woollen garments, which were of little use to us in the desert. We were denied a view of the coasts of Spain and Portugal. The Atlantic has a much heavier swell than the previous sea, but it was not very rough, although we had a few sea-sick. It never affects me, and I enjoy this life on the ocean very much. I was an orderlie (sic) coming over.

Bully and biscuits are alright, now we are used to them, but the new arrivals think it terrible. Anyhow they agree with me, for I am getting heavier.

While crossing the Bay of Biscay, a terrible fog occurred and we got out of our course. After the fog cleared, we discovered that an enemy submarine was on our track. Our boat had full speed up and she zig-zagged about, giving no chance for her broadside to be exposed. We avoided being hit, to our great delight. The submarine dived and was seen no more. This was a very exciting six hours for us, but I hope all our comrades coming over will be as lucky as we were.

We landed at Plymouth on 12th June and were delighted with the beautiful harbour, surrounded by ancient buildings and plantations. Here we met such kind folk, who were all in mourning for Lord Kitchener and many for their own loved ones. Here, we cannot help noticing there is not an available young man in the streets or on the farms. Those we see are either engaged in factories or have seen service, and are limping about doing other duties. All along the line we travelled are great camps where men are drilling in earnest. Never before has England had conscription, but she has awakened at last, and is making it warm for her foes. She is forcing the young fellows, who hate the thought of leaving or else expect others to fight their battles for them.

We arrived at Tidworth Station at 6 p.m. after seven hours travelling, so we had nice daylight travelling. We passed through some very fine country—rich soil, grass in abundance, and stock looking well. The crops were just coming out in ear, and some were already cutting hay. All the land seems to be in small holdings, each having a well-kept hedge fence. The band played a few selections on the railway station and then we set out for our camp, which was four miles distant. After arriving, we received a mug of beer and some pies from the Y.M.C.A., fixed our bunks and retired, but the coldness would not let us rest. It was very severe on us after coming from a climate, where it was 125 degrees in the shade, where the flies worried us incessantly and heat waves and sand storms were plentiful.

After two days at Park Camp, we were ordered to pack up and be ready in two hours. We then set out on a 5 mile march, across country, sometimes on a road, when our band made the valleys ring with Australian melodies; as it was a nice evening we quite enjoyed it. We arrived there at 7 p.m. and lodged in a nice long huts that have tables down the centre. With the band mess, two orderlies, and two postmen, we are 29—quite a happy family. We rise at 5.30 for the reveille, which is played up and down the lines, then we please ourselves till 9.5 when we must be on parade. We then practice, parade again at 2 p.m., and have our own time till 6 p.m., when we play the retreat. I am good at early rising, which has been left to me ever since I joined the band, but what a picnic it is to get some out on cold bleak mornings. I think you have a photo of Bert Rasmussen, of Castlemaine, who was our bandmaster in this camp band.

Yesterday, we were visited by Mr Fisher, who addressed us and wished us luck; the day before we were inspected by General Forsyth, who delivered a stirring speech, and on the same day General Moore visited us and told us everyone would be wanted shortly over in France, so that will be our next move I suppose…’

The records of all three men contain the same note: Undated – disembarked Plymouth. But for the information provided by Cogley and Gervasoni the gap would have remained.

As bandsmen, there was no apparent rush to send these soldiers to the Front, and Bert soon found himself heading up the massed bands at Salisbury Plain when the Australian troops were reviewed by King George V on 17 April 1917.

‘…Salisbury Plain…is as bleak as Blayney in winter, and for all the rest of the year as fresh and bracing as Orange in spring. But it was still winter when this great parade came off, and, though the sun shone, he put no real strength into his warmth, and we had to imagine he was the "fond congenial friend" of southern lands. Fortunately, neither rain nor snow fell, and the day was very fine and very cold…’

For those involved, this grand display was an experience never to be forgotten. And Bert’s part, as senior bandmaster, drew special praise.

‘…They included every arm of the service, with a small body of airmen, and the horses of cavalry and artillery looked very well trained. The massed bands. closer up played with spanking rhythm, and were a splendid body of musical soldiers, whose work was worth tons of praise…’

Quite an achievement for a 21-year-old!
Bert spent much of the remainder of 1917 at Durrington. He was transferred there on 7 August, joining the 2nd Training Battalion on allocation to the 8th Battalion.

Despite his remarkable discipline as a musician, Bert still managed to record two offences whilst in England. He was charged with being absent without leave from reveille on 4 October until tattoo four days later. Lieutenant-Colonel John Walstab gave him no leniency and awarded him 15-days Field Punishment No2 and fined him a total of 22-days pay.

Then, on 18 November, at nearby Warminster, Bert was charged with neglecting to obey an order concerning being out of bounds. Captain Charles Guilfoyle heard the charge and awarded Bert a further day’s Field Punishment No2.

On 24 November, Bert was attached to a pioneer Training Battalion stationed at Sutton Veny.
However, with the German Spring Offensive of 1918 soon in full swing, every available man became essential to the frontline war effort. Bandsmen were needed to fill the role of stretcher-bearers. Bert finally sailed for France, leaving Folkestone on 23 April. He reached the New Zealand Base Depot at Étaples the following day.

The 8th Battalion had just moved to scattered billets (on farms, in tents and Nissan huts) at Hondeghem near Hazebrouck when Bert joined them on 9 May. The arrival of the band instruments buoyed the spirits of the men, who were enjoying a well-earned rest having played a significant role in stemming the German race for the Channel ports. They were soon back in the trenches, relieving the 11th Battalion on 13 May.

What followed was an intense period of work aggravated by the early stages of the influenza outbreak that was to sweep the world. Bert worked hard during this time – when not conducting the battalion band, he was slugging it out with the men in the frontline.

After three months at the pointy end of the war, Bert succumbed to illness. They 8th Battalion was forward of Harbonnières, when he was admitted to the 1st Australian Field Ambulance on 13 August before being sent to the 12th Casualty Clearing Station at Longpré-les-Corps-Saints. He left for Rouen on Ambulance Train 2 the next day, and was admitted to the 4th Stationary Hospital on 15 August.

Fortunately, Bert was only suffering from debility due to strain and overwork and he was soon transferred to the nearby 2nd Convalescent Depot. He was discharged to the Australian Intermediate Base Depot at Le Havre on 21 August.

Bert rounded out the year by leading the Australian Infantry Staff Band at Harfleur Cathedral.

With the war over, Bert was kept busy overseeing band performances. He enjoyed an extended leave pass to England during February 1919, before developing an inguinal hernia that resulted in him being admitted to the 40th Stationary Hospital at Harfleur. After being transferred to England on 6 April, Bert was admitted to the King George Hospital in Stamford Street, Waterloo. He was transferred to the 3rd Australian Auxiliary Hospital at Dartford on 11 April.

Bert spent the remainder of his time in England at the No1 Group at Longbridge-Deverill. Although he had been reduced to private on being evacuated to hospital, his rank was maintained as sergeant across his records.

On 16 June, Bert sailed for home onboard the Orient liner Ormonde, one of the most up-to-date steamers to make the voyage to Australia. They reached the New Pier at Port Melbourne, at 2pm on 1 August. A procession of cars then carried the troops back to the Sturt Street Depot where they were greeted by family and friends.

Bert fitted seamlessly back into life at Castlemaine. His discharge from the AIF came through on 23 September 1919 and his musical career looked set to flourish.

On Christmas Day 1920 it was announced that Bert had taken over as bandmaster of the Thompson’s Foundry Band.

Then, in late 1921, Bert’s life took a decided change – he married 21-year-old Eillen Lucinda Vosti, from Guildford. As her surname would suggest, Eileen had an interesting background – she was the granddaughter of Swiss-Italian, Antonio Domenico Vosti and Italian, Prospero Passalaqua.

The young couple moved to Newstead, where Bert began working as an orchardist. He also took over as bandmaster of the Newstead Brass Band (imagine, a brass band at Newstead!) and was also bandmaster for the Newstead State School.

In October 1922, at the request of the Victorian Director of Education, Bert Rasmussen, headmaster of the Newstead State School, Mr Frederick Walter Ellis, and the boys of the band played selections at the combined school district’s concert as part of the Jubilee Exhibition held in Melbourne.

Soon after, on 12 November 1922, Eileen gave birth to their first child, Leslie Herbert, at Dr Kidd’s Private Hospital in Castlemaine. Everything should have been perfect.

Should have been.

Infection in those pre-antibiotic days could fell the strongest of young people. Eileen developed double pneumonia a few weeks after Leslie’s birth and died at her parent’s home in Guildford on 13 December 1922. As a result, Bert was left a widower at 26, with a one-month-old baby.

A year later, Bert married for a second time. His new wife was Hazel Bucknall from Majorca. Hazel had lost her first husband, Harold John Annand, during the war – he was a lance-corporal with the 46th Battalion when he was killed in action at Messines on 7 June 1917. She had two young children – Cyril, who was born at Maryborough on 14 December 1914, and Hazel Mavis, born at Carisbrook on 1 August 1915.

Bert left his home district for a brief stint as bandmaster of the Wonthaggi Boys’ Band. When he relinquished this position in September 1924, the parents presented him with an enlarged photograph of the band and a ‘wallet of notes.’ He also received a clock from the boys themselves.

With his amalgamated family, Bert then moved to Ballarat. It was at this point that he began his association with the Ballarat Soldiers, Sailors and Airman’s Memorial Band, taking over from Alf Rowell as bandmaster. Initially they lived in Kent Street, but settled in Howitt Street for an extended period. Bert also worked as a linesman.

When the Duke and Duchess of York (later King George VI and Queen Elizabeth) visited Ballarat in April 1927, the Soldiers’ Memorial Band played them into the city. Before the royal couple left the city, Bert Rasmussen was presented to them, earning him the unofficial title of “Royal Bandsman.” He had by then played for the King, the Prince of Wales, Princess Mary and the Duke and Duchess of York.

In 1928, after building the Soldiers’ band to a good standard, they were just beaten for the B-Grade Championship at the State titles by Prahran City, then under the baton of the legendary Percy Code.

Bert’s reputation as a bandmaster attracted a great deal of attention from other communities. The committee of the Kyneton Town Band made a concerted effort to secure his services and, in October 1928, it was announced that he was leaving Soldiers to take the new post. He was presented with a further ‘wallet of notes’ upon his resignation. Although it was a professional post, Bert also took work in theatre orchestras to supplement his income. He and Hazel spent the next six years at Kyneton.

In April 1935, it was announced that Bert had been appointed as bandmaster of the Stawell Brass Band, where he received a weekly salary of £3. In introducing him to the community, much was made of his celebrity as both a euphonium and cornet player and his many successes, then holding twenty medals won at various band championships.

Prior to leaving Kyneton to take over the position at Stawell, Bert was farewelled by the band and committeemen before being presented with a travelling rug.

Bert and Hazel were still at Stawell when the world went to war again. On 3 September 1939, Prime Minister Bob Menzies declared Australia’s involvement in the global conflict. For Bert Rasmussen there was only one course of action: he enlisted at South Melbourne on 27 December 1939.

Within days of enlisting, Bert was posted to the 2/8th Battalion on transfer to the camp at Puckapunyal. He resigned his position at Stawell to take the role as bandmaster to his battalion. He was soon joined by his 18-year-old son, Leslie, who was a fine cornet player in his own right. He did claim to be three years older when he enlisted on 22 January 1940.

They were to be the only father-son combination in the 2/8th Battalion.

On 15 February, Bert had his rank of sergeant confirmed. His regimental number was to be VX9772.
Returning to Stawell on his final leave, Bert was farewelled by the members of the local Methodist Church, who gave him a suitable gift.

Preparations completed, the 2/8th embarked for the Middle East on 14 April 1940. They reached Egypt on 18 May, with the battalion immediately undertaking training for their first campaign against Italian forces in Libya. Regular swimming in the Mediterranean improved their fitness and games of cricket and hockey built their teamwork. Holding inter-unit regimental band contests also helped to ‘develop their esprit de corps.’ Under Bert’s baton, the 2/8th Band took out one of the competitions.

At Bardia in early January 1941, the 2/8th Battalion played a minor role. But at Tobruk later in the month, the unit was badly mauled and suffered the heaviest casualties of any Australian unit. Bert and Les augmented their musical duties with essential stretcher-bearing.

In late March, the 2/8th was sent to Greece. Fierce fighting ensued at Vevi (Battle of Klidi Pass), where the Australians faced a far-superior force. The 2/8th became disorganised, and suffered a significant loss of weapons and equipment in the retreat.

They were evacuated on the night of 26 April, departing in two ships – one travelled straight back to Egypt, the other landed at Crete. The Allied defence of Crete was doomed, with the troops being overrun by the invading Germans paratroopers. A large number of troops were captured, including Bert Rasmussen. Les Rasmussen made it out safely.

Much later, Bert spoke of the dramatic days in Greece and on Crete.

‘…I will give you a brief account of a certain event in Greece. No credit to certain members of the Battalion. You know the mix up when the Battalion reached the wrong place in Greece.

Then we had to move to Florina, the Battalion was digging-in in the hills, and the CO the next morning sent me back with two trucks loaded with the battalion stores and four men. we landed back about 30 miles or more in a valley, they unloaded the stores, two boxes of band instruments amongst them. I was ordered not to move more than thirty yards and wait for orders.

About the third night or so I thought I could hear troops moving back up on the road which was a few hundred yards away. I went up the road and a New Zealand captain (tanks) asked who I was, etc. And I explained that I was in charge of the 2/8 Battalion stores. “That’s strange, your battalion went through here two days ago. You will have to burn all your stores.” “But,” I said, “I can’t as there are two boxes of band instruments there.” He said he was in charge of the light aid to help stragglers.

I got back to camp and my men were pulling a case of Australian beer out of Brigade Headquarters’ burning dump. I got as many bottles as I could and took them up to the road to the New Zealanders. On the way back the New Zealand officer sent a man after me to say he could give me a couple of trucks.

It started to drizzle rain; we loaded the instruments and some tents and travelled a couple of days before we met the 2/8 Battalion.

The Adjutant “Ranji” said, ‘Did you save the instruments?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘A bloody good job!’

They kept the instruments until we reached the coast a few days later and the bandsmen took them aboard the Costa Rica, some of the bandsmen were on another ship. When the Costa Rica was sinking we were lucky to get off with our lives. We were told to leave everything and get off, there was no hope of saving the instruments. I just threw off my boots and jumped into the sea a motor boat from the destroyers picked us up.

On Crete, Major Key sent me down to the wharf with about twelve men to go on a hospital ship he gave me some secret papers before to had to “Ranji,” but the German paratroopers came. I burnt the papers before being taken prisoner.

I met one of the New Zealand drivers while prisoner and when he saw me he said, “The bloody Aussie who got the beer from nowhere!...’

In May, news reached Stawell that Bert had been reported missing in action. It wasn’t until November that it was confirmed that he was a prisoner of war being held at Stalag XIIA at Limburg in Germany. Conditions at Limburg were ‘notoriously bad.’
These were to tough years for Bert Rasmussen.

During April 1943, Bert was transferred to Stalag 383 at Hohenfels. Rations were poor and, according to Sergeant Bob Slocombe (one of the 2/8th Battalion pioneers who shared a hut with Bert), the sauerkraut tasted horrible. The diet resulted in various health issues – bleeding gums, loose teeth, and significant weight loss.

To pass the time, the men organised classes, concerts, plays and Gilbert & Sullivan operettas. They played cards, and, when well enough, Aussie Rules Football. It was the first time in Bert’s life that he was without his beloved brass bands.

Conditions in the camp were also confronting:
‘…When fuel rations ran low the men burned materials from the hut itself to keep themselves warm. They then stole materials from the camp at night to repair their huts. At one point the German soldiers were tired of this and opened fire on the men with their machine-guns…’ Bob recalled that some of the men from their hut ‘made a narrow escape with their lives.’

In a letter to his stepdaughter, Hazel, which was published in the Australian Women’s Weekly, on 6 January 1945, Bert eluded to the mental battles he experienced.

‘…How happy I am to get your letters. Mail day and Red Cross parcel day are the big events in our life. Knowing we are not forgotten has helped us through many a dark day.

Twice a week we go for a three mile walk into the country. We have a guard with us, but it is great just to be out of the barbed wire if only for a short while….’
In late March, 1945, the camp was disbanded. Those too ill were left to be picked up by the Americans, while any well enough to travel were sent under German guard in ‘a somewhat aimless journey in the chaos of dismantling a war.’ They were weak and susceptible to dysentery. However, when they encountered survivors of the concentration camps, the men were shocked by the sight. ‘We thought we were skinny, but were heavy weights compared to them.’
Bert was soon picked up and flew to Britain as a ‘recovered prisoner of war,’ landing on 28 April 1945. He was in England for VE Day, leaving for home just eight days later. He reached Sydney on 17 June. His discharge from the army came through on 28 July 1945.

As a result of his service during the Second World War, Bert Rasmussen was Mentioned in Despatches on two separate occasions.

After the war, Bert was reappointed as bandmaster of the Ballarat Soldiers’ Memorial Band. He and Hazel lived initially in Dana Street and Bert worked as a grocer. They moved to 278 Humffray Street in August 1950. This was just a few doors away from the house of my own grandfather, noted singer and conductor, Ern Vincent. There is no doubt the pair shared many a conversation.

Memories of Bert Rasmussen from this period of his musical life paint a picture of a man who expected dedication and excellence – and heaven help anyone who fell short of those expectations!

Well-known Ballarat musician, Norm Newey, who was just a lad under Bert Rasmussen in the early 1950’s, described him as ‘a very tense bandmaster.’ During a competition at the old Albert Hall, something went amiss with the first euphonium in the middle of one section. So, Bert picked up the stand and slammed it down in front of the second euphonium as if to say, ‘You play it!’ Norm described his bandmaster as ‘savage.’

Ballarat theatre star and media personality, Fred Farghar remembered that, with little if any practice conducted outside of band rehearsal, he would ‘fire up, lose his temper easily, but he probably had reason to.’

Stalwart of the Soldiers’ Band, Kevin Howell, also remembered what it was like to play under Bert Rasmussen – ‘Bert was a grand old man and he was champion euphonium player of Australia at one stage in the early days so it was exciting to be around those people.’ Kevin also remarked on Bert’s strict discipline – if you left your music home and didn’t know your part, well….you were in trouble!

Of course, these youthful musicians had no inkling of the privations Bert Rasmussen had suffered as a POW. I have had musical associations with all three and feel sure that the impact of the forceful personality of Bert Rasmussen added immeasurably to their individual brilliance.

The Rasmussen years saw the Ballarat Soldiers’ Memorial Band develop a string of consistent finishes at State level. At the Australian Championships, the band reached A-Grade with their best performance finishing second in April 1950.

In the State Championships of 1955, Soldiers took out the quickstep and B-Grade title.

Bert resigned as bandmaster at Soldiers in 1957. He continued to live in Ballarat, before retiring and moving to Maryborough in the late 1960’s. As a member of the Maryborough Citizens Brass Band, Bert was still playing into his 80’s.

After what was quite possibly the most remarkable banding career of any Australian musician, Bert Rasmussen died at Ballarat on 14 November 1986.  The simple memorial plaque at the crematorium of the Ballarat New Cemetery bears only the vital details of Bert’s Second World War service – name, rank, and number. This extraordinary musician deserves so much more.