Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

It was not until my much loved grandfather, Reuben Craig, died in 1979 that our mum discovered that we did not know who her father's father was (our great grandfather). Until then we had no idea that we did not know. It was a secret so well kept that we did not even know it was a secret. So in 1979 and thereafter, it seemed we may never discover his identity.

After 42 yrs of wondering who my grandfather's father was and doing HOURS of research on & off I finally found his identity in 2021 during the COVID epidemic. Even reading my grandfather's WW1 Enlistment Papers shows the crossings out and difficulty he had in deciding which were the best details to enter for Father, Next of Kin etc.

How did I find his father finally? Well I made my brother do a DNA Test because I thought somehow both his & mine together might help the ongoing mission.
Then......I finally got around to linking his DNA to my Family Tree and then I only had to wait 2 days and logged back in as my brother to my tree & saw a suggested father for my grandfather immediately!!!

Incredible, I am still in shock. Even found a 'Charge by Warrant' in the Victorian Police Gazette of Dec 1903 for him deserting his "illegitimate child by Sarah Craig". Reuben would have then been 12. There was a a description of the father - 40 ish, 6 feet tall, fair complexion, miner.
I wanted to ring my brother, far too late at night.
I wanted to ring my Mother (no longer on this earthly plane). Instead I had to just call out "Mum, I found Papa's father!!!". Mum I did it.

Interestingly soon after as I walked past my lovely small semi-circular table where I light my daily candle and incense I whacked my hand hard on the drawer knob, knocked a box of matches to the floor & ouch that stopped me in my tracks.......

Then I twigged - that was my grandfather & grandmother's telephone table (the thing I most associate with their home & now at least 100 yrs old). And yes I had finally found the match.
I got the message Papa, I love you Papa.

I had found his NSW Railways Pay Card for 1919-1954 2 days ago & today I found his father. AMAZING GRACE how sweet the sound.

Edward Wynn Johnson was his father. Seems he ran away from the goldmines of Beechworth Stanley Victoria and then lived the rest of his days as a miner in Kalgoorlie where he died too young of "miner's consumption" at age 60.

Looking at the photos of his father's parents, the Johnsons, I can see my brother has her cute top lip and so on with lots of little quirky things. Now we know how my brother made 6 ft tall as he always insisted he would (even as a kid) when no-one else was that tall. And now we know where Geoffrey's platinum blonde hair as a kid comes from etc etc etc.
PAPA!!! We did it. The truth shall set us free. Secrets sometimes don't stay secrets forever.

Now to help an 85 yr old lady work out how we are so closely DNA related, so she can know who her biological father was. She has been searching for decades, even doorknocked the entire Victorian town of Mudgegonga at one point... She desperately wants to know before she dies so that's the next mission in COVID LOCKDOWN LOOKAROUND.

Stay safe everyone, go gently.

As someone born in the 1950s, who grew up driving a car from age 16, I assumed the term "Driver" in WW1 meant someone driving a truck of some kind (albeit a vintage one).... how little we realise about history... how often we imagine things and understand according to our own frame of reference, despite all our education and awareness.

Now I discover that Papa was one of the men who rode horses pulling wagons, often country men with horse experience. Not a truck but a horse. This has given me a whole other perspective on what he did. Totally exposed, sitting up high, a silhouette that stands out, transporting supplies to the Front Line, bringing back the wounded, collecting supplies (Papa was shot on Watering Parade in Albert, near the Somme) collecting water.

Now I have a whole other perspective on his calm, still, gentle, demeanour. It is a demeanour that I know so well in my mother Audrey (his daughter, a teacher who became a School Principal) and my brother Geoff (a Dr). I have heard others describe it in me "you are always so calm" and I have been surprised. Clearly it is something we have probably all learnt from Reuben, in that interesting family way that we do without ever realising it. I don't feel that calm, probably neither did my mother or her father Reuben. We just exude it. Perhaps we are more calm than other people but we don't realise that. Someone described it recently as "people trust you because you are safe, present and calm". That was my constant experience of my mother Audrey (so capable, so able, so calm, so present). I know my brother's patients feel the same about him.

I have just read this about the Drivers:
A driver in WW1 rode on team horses which pulled wagons, guns, ambulances, equipment. Usually a wagon had a team of 6 horses, 3 pairs of 2. Each driver was responsible for his two horses (feeding, shoeing, vet care, etc.) and he teamed up with two other drivers to pull the wagon. Drivers were usually privates in rank, but designated "Driver" to distinquish them from infantry. Drivers were essential in getting supplies, food, ammunition and equipment to the men at the front, and bringing wounded back to medical stations. It was a dangerous job as they were targeted by machine guns and artillery to prevent them getting supplies through. Their uniforms were very similar to the Light Horse except they wore peaked caps instead of slouch hats. They wore leather putties, instead of canvas, and spurs

http://www.ww1westernfront.gov.au/zonnebeke/menin-road.php
To avoid detection by the enemy, this transport work was done at night but it was a hazardous undertaking. The area was frequently doused in mustard gas by the Germans and shelled. When explosions tore up the one–way road in front of them, the Australian wagon drivers had to sit motionless with their animals until it was repaired.

Major Russell Manton, 15th Battery, Australian Field Artillery, recalled the ordeal of the horses: … the animals came to know when a shell was coming close; and if, when halted, the horses heard the whine of an approaching salvo, they would tremble and sidle closer to their drivers, burying their muzzles in the men’s chests.
Charles Bean heaped praise on the Australian drivers, ‘unassuming, country–bred men’ who waited calmly while the road break was repaired and perhaps a shattered wagon team was hurriedly removed – ‘The unostentatious efficiency and self discipline of these steadfast men was as fine as any achievement of Australians in the war’.

I read these descriptions and realised my grandfather Papa had a deep love for horses and country yet in all our trips to the country he never once talked specifically about horses or horse riding. I guess horse riding had associations of loud noises, terrible visions, whining salvos approaching, horses muzzling into your chest for safety, and you on the other hand ... what do you do... muzzle into that place born of self discipline, that still calm place.

I PRAY THAT PEACE ENFOLDS OUR BEAUTIFUL PLANET EARTH.