Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

From Ballarat & District in the Great War

Pte Percy HOLLIOAKE, a victim at Fromelles

He was fighting for his country,
He answered duty’s call:
His friends, his home, his comforts,
He sacrificed them all.

Finding family links to our Great War generation has always been an important aspect of my research. For the most part people are more than happy to share stories, photos and personal items. They are in essence the guardians of memory. One of the most poignant moments for me was when I spoke to well-known local identity Rex Hollioake. The emotional connection that he felt to his uncle, Percy, was both authentic and enduring.

Percy Hollioake was born in Ballarat East on 23 December 1897. He was the youngest son of Ballarat-born Henry Charles Hollioake and Emelie “Amelia” Junghenn. In many ways, his ancestry is quite typical of the early Australian settlers. Percy’s grandfather, William Hollioake (Holyoak), had been transported to Tasmania for life on 7 January 1835 for the crime of stealing sheep. His grandmother, Hannah Perry, was likewise a transported to the colonies. She was sent to Tasmania for 7-years on 19 October 1840, after having been convicted of petty larceny. Whilst the Perry family was from London, the Hollioakes came from the village of Pontesbury in the historic English county of Shropshire.

Percy’s maternal line came from the village of Cassel in the Rheinland-Pfalz region of Germany. The Junghenn family became known in Ballarat for their contributions to the community through connection to the Free Methodist Church in South Street and the Town and City Mission. But it was their musical prowess that brought significant attention, especially Amelia’s younger sister, Sophia, who was referred to as a ‘local prima donna,’ gave celebrated performances as a soprano and organist that received suitable acclaim.

After their marriage in 1882, Henry and Amelia welcomed the successful births of ten children – Percy was their eighth child and the youngest of seven sons. The family lived in a neat little miner’s cottage in what was then Durham Street in Ballarat East. Now known as York Street, Durham Street was the extension that joined Main Road to Golden Point. Amelia named her home Cassel. Wherever you looked there was evidence of ongoing goldmining: poppet-heads reared up over major deep lead mines and mullock heaps scarred the landscape – this provided wonderful opportunities for adventurous boys. Main Road, then a bustling hive of activity with the remains of old China Town and multiple hotels, provided colour that is almost unimaginable today. For young Percy Hollioake, this was the view of his boyhood.

The harsh reality of life was never far removed, however…

Contagious diseases were unfortunately an accepted part of life during the years before antibiotics and effective vaccines. Typhoid, scarlet fever, meningitis and diphtheria passed readily through the community and few families were untouched. An outbreak of diphtheria in October 1901 had a direct impact on the Hollioake family. Theodore, the fifth of Henry and Amelia’s children, was hospitalised with the disease. Despite careful nursing, the nine-year-old died on 10 October.

In February 1904, Percy joined his siblings at the Golden Point State School. During the second half of that year, he was advanced to Grade II.

The Hollioake brothers were fairly typical young lads and often got up to mischief – when Frank Hollioake had a gun explode in his hand, he had to be taken to hospital (in April 1907) for treatment to his wounded fingers.

Percy’s aunt, Sophia Junghenn, became ill with diabetes in 1908, and, when her health deteriorated, she was cared for by her sister, Amelia, at her Durham Street home. Sophia died there on 4 March 1909. Such images of love and loss must have made a deep impression on young Percy.

After six years at Golden Point, Percy completed his education during Term IV of 1910. It was time for the boy to take on an adult role – he left school to become a miner alongside his father and brothers working at the No1 Battery of the nearby Llanberris Mine.
In many respects, Percy was still a typical teenage boy – he bucked against authority: compulsory military training was not something he enjoyed, and he often caused his mother grief by hanging around the local pubs. Although Percy was too young to volunteer when war was declared on 4 August 1914 (he was still only 16) there was a legal expectation that he would attend weekly drill with the 70th Infantry Regiment Senior Cadets. Although he had been a member of the unit for nearly three years and had been part of the manning of coastal defences at Queenscliff during the initial stages of the war, he then failed to appear at the Drill Hall in Curtis Street. In the Town Court on 19 May 1915, Captain Moreton Williams described Percy as ‘a particularly bad case,’ and recommended that he be fined £3 or spend three weeks in detention at Queenscliff. The penalty was harsh enough that Percy chose to enlist instead.

On 9 July 1915, Percy presented himself for examination at the Melbourne Town Hall. The medical officer did not appear to question the teenager when he claimed to be 18-years and 6-months of age, indeed Percy had a physicality that belied his age: he was 5-foot 5-inches tall, weighed 10-stone and had a chest expansion of 36-inches. He had brown eyes and hair, a scar on his left buttock, but had no discernible evidence of vaccination. In providing a note of consent from his father (‘I…do give my full consent of my son…serving with the Australian Expedidionary (sic) Forces’), Percy stated that his mother could not write. (Now, I will admit I actually did a full handwriting comparison between father and son, as I found it difficult to believe that there could have been such a disparity of education between Amelia Junghenn and her sister, Sophia, who had been a music teacher and composer. There was also evidence of Amelia’s apparent handwriting some time later. I did have my suspicions that Percy, who was underage, had forged his father’s signature and travelled to Melbourne where he was unknown to the military authorities. However, he did name his father as next-of-kin…).

Having successfully passed the medical examination, Percy formally signed his oath of allegiance on 13 July. His signature was rather immature, providing perhaps the clearest insight into his lack of years. Penmanship was much-prized by teachers of the era, but not everyone had the patience or skill required.

Despite being accepted as a recruit, it appears that Percy’s age was taken into account and there was no rush to send him overseas. When he wasn’t training at Broadmeadows, Percy had the opportunity to return home to Ballarat on leave. The sight of a young man in uniform brought an instant response from the locals, and no doubt Percy enjoyed an occasional free pint as a result. However, his presence at the Prince Regent Hotel in Main Road caused his mother considerable upset. It seems that her concerns were rooted in her brother’s apparent alcoholism and she became particularly agitated when she thought her husband or son were spending time at the hotel run by Helena Fiscalini. On one occasion (18 November), Percy had spent the evening at the Prince Regent.

When he saw his mother coming, the young lad scarpered. However, Amelia was not to be placated by his seeming absence from the pub. She later admitted that she was ‘naturally of an excitable nature,’ and this contributed to her reaction that night. According to witnesses, Amelia impugned Miss Fiscalini’s reputation both personally and as a businesswoman. She repeated several times, “This house is no good, and you are no good yourself,” and that seemingly ‘reflected on her chastity.’

When Amelia refused to issue a public apology, Helena Fiscalini had her charged with using abusive language. Amelia was also said to have asserted that ‘you killed my brother five years ago,’ and this was perhaps her most damning comment, but it was largely overlooked during the hearing, which was held at the Town Court on 9 December. Despite it being apparent that there was no point in suing the middle-aged woman for damages (‘as she had nothing’) the prosecutor sought a very heavy penalty for what was seen as ‘a very serious offence.’ Amelia categorically denied the claims and at least one witness, Herbert Mong, supported her, but the majority of those present backed the landlady and Amelia was found guilty and fined £1 with costs of £2/5/6. It was an embarrassing situation, but understandable during times that pushed vigorously for temperance where alcohol was concerned.

Percy was soon back in camp and, on 18 December, he was assigned to the 14th reinforcements to the 8th Infantry Battalion with the regimental number 4510.

Before leaving for the Front, Percy organised for a generous allotment of 4-shillings a day to be paid to his mother. A clear indication that he both loved his mother and took seriously his role as her financial supporter. On 28 January 1916, he boarded the troopship Themistocles at Port Melbourne and sailed for Egypt. The voyage took 31-days.

Percy disembarked at Suez on 28 February and proceeded to the Aerodrome Camp at Heliopolis. The next day he was missing from Muster Parade and was awarded 7-days close confinement. It was not an auspicious start.

Percy joined other reinforcements in the 2nd Training Battalion and hours of practice at the rifle range and long, dusty route marches quickly became order of the day. On 1 April, Percy received his formal posting and joined the newly raised 58th Infantry Battalion at Ferry Post. A shortage of tents resulted in new draft of nearly 250 men being forced to bivouac in the company lines.

The 58th Battalion was one of the earliest of the AIF units to begin preparations for the transition to France. After boarding the transport Transylvania at Alexandria on 17 March, Percy and his new mates began the dangerous crossing of the Mediterranean.

Despite the very real threat of German submarines, the Transylvania made the crossing without incident and reached Marseilles on 23 June. After a three-day train trip, the 58th Battalion reached their billets at Steenbecque.

From this point things moved rapidly. The men were issued with their Brodie-pattern steel helmets and gas-masks, went through carefully organised practice gas attacks, before taking over frontline trenches forward of Sailly-sur-la-Lys. Within days the battalion suffered its first casualties – four men were killed and nine wounded on Bastille Day when the trenches were shelled by the enemy. Far worse was to come…

On 19 July 1916, the AIF was committed to its first full-scale battle on the Western Front on German positions at Fromelles. The 58th was held in reserve and provided stretcher-bearers in support of the 59th and 60th Battalions during the early stages of the fight. As the battle reached its climax about half of the 58th Battalion was sent over the top. German machine-gunners cut the men to ribbons. In less than 24-hours the AIF suffered 5,533 casualties – dead, wounded and missing – and the 58th had lost effectively a third of its fighting strength.

The true tragedy of this battle, a badly planned feint that resulted in the loss of so many Australian troops, took many months to become clear. In the ensuing days units completed their roll calls and marked soldier after soldier as ‘missing’. The enormous number of casualties meant that it was almost impossible to be certain exactly what had happened to individual men. For the time being 18-year-old Private Percy Hollioake was listed among the missing.

News reached Ballarat in September, beginning an unimaginable period of waiting without further word. The situation was aggravated by the declining health of Henry Hollioake. He died on 13 March 1917 not knowing the what had happened to his youngest son.

On 1 September 1917, a Court of Enquiry was held “In the Field” to determine the fate of those 58th Battalion men who were missing in action. As a result it was confirmed that Percy Hollioake had been killed in action on 19 July 1916. Although there were no individual witness statements gathered to clarify what actually happened to him, it is safe to assume that he was amongst those mown down by machine-guns. It was believed that he had been buried ‘in the vicinity of Fleurbaix,’ probably some considerable time after the battle.

More than a year had passed before the Amelia Hollioake was informed officially of her son’s death. When news reached Ballarat the flags over the city buildings were lowered to half-mast on Sunday morning 23 September 1917.

At the time Percy’s older brother, Private Henry Hollioake, who was serving with the 4th Pioneer Battalion, was in an English hospital suffering from trench fever. Frank Hollioake had also enlisted, but was discharged following complications after an operation for appendicitis.

The Defence Department initially paid Amelia Hollioake a pension of 30-shillings a fortnight, but increased the amount to 40-shillings in early 1918. She was to suffer further loss with the death of her second son, Adolphus, on 16 July 1918 following ‘a long illness.’ The close proximity to the 2nd anniversary of Percy’s death must have been particularly hard to bear.
Amelia Hollioake continued to live in her Durham Street home (then re-named York Street) for many long years. She buried her daughter, Linda, in December 1939 and her other soldier son, Henry, in February 1945. Having removed to the Melbourne suburb of Surrey Hills during World War II, Amelia died on 19 September 1947. She was 88.

Ultimately, Percy’s body was never formally recovered for a full individual burial. His name is commemorated on the walls of the VC Corner Australian Cemetery Memorial, which bears the inscription, ‘In honour of the 410 unknown Australian soldiers here buried, who were among the 1,299 Officers, Non-Commissioned Officers and Men of the Australian Imperial Force, killed in the Attack on Fromelles, July 19th and 20th, 1916.’

In writing of young Percy Hollioake, I have been reminded of the tears shed in his memory. The knowledge that his death could still prompt such deep emotion encourages me to believe that he, and others like him, will never be forgotten.