Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

From 'Ballarat & District in the Great War"

The unrelenting and greatest tragedy of the Great War was perhaps the loss of potential – what might have been achieved by those who gave their lives. Certainly, one of the greatest losses was the disproportionately large number of teachers who died. Not only was their own individual potential lost, their positive impact of the next generations was also gone. This was certainly the case with Bill Hoggart, who had only just begun to leave his mark on minds of his students…

Born at Buangor, north-west of Ballarat, on 22 August 1876, William Ross Hoggart was the eldest son of Scottish couple Alexander Hoggart and Elizabeth Dockerty. The family moved to Geelong by 1881, where Alexander Hoggart was employed as the Government Inspector of Vineyards. Alexander’s sudden death on 22 August 1886, when he was just 44, left Elizabeth alone to raise their five children, the youngest who was only two years old. The family was always productive, however, and they soon took over the running of the Post Office at Fyansford.

Young Bill was enrolled at the Flinders State School in Geelong to undertake his primary education. The school had forged an impressive reputation under the directorship of headmaster, George F. Link, whose interest in military matters was to have a direct impact on Bill Hoggart. In his senior year at the school he became captain of cadets. He also had the distinction of being the youngest to matriculate from the school.

In 1895, Bill joined the Education Department and was appointed a pupil teacher. He began his career at the Flinders School, where he took a particular interest in encouraging his students in military drill. At the same time, he joined the Geelong Artillery, where he held a non-commissioned rank.

It was customary for young teachers to gain experience by teaching in the small schools dotted across the State. After leaving Geelong, Bill was appointed as teacher to the Beremboke State School near Mount Egerton. He quickly made a positive impression on both the students and the local community – an impression that would not be soon forgotten.

In 1900 Bill moved to the rural community of Kiata West in the Wimmera, where he assumed control of the local State school.

Bill was then presented with an opportunity to pursue his teaching at a higher level. The opening of the new Teacher’s Training College in Carlton resulted in nine prized scholarships being offered – Bill was one of the successful applicants. In 1902 he entered Queen’s College at the University of Melbourne to begin studying for his Bachelor of Arts degree.

The following year he was selected by the Education Department to act as an instructor to promote an experimental elementary science programme in State Schools. Three regional centres – Geelong, Ballarat and Bendigo – were selected for the roll-out of this new programme. Each are was allotted an instructor for a six-month training period; Bill Hoggart spent his time overseeing the project in Bendigo.

His second year at the Training College in 1904 resulted in Bill becoming a certificated teacher. He continued his studies in 1905 and 1906, adding political economy, English and Latin to the mathematics and science elements of his degree.

Whilst his career was going from strength to strength, Bill’s personal life was also looking particularly rosy: in late 1906 at the Holy Trinity Church in Oakleigh, he married 26 year-old teacher, Rebecca Jane Aedy.

In March 1907, Bill was appointed senior master at the Warrnambool Agricultural High School. He also spent time as master at the Melbourne Continuation School.

After the couple had settled at 9 Grove Road, Hawthorn, Rebecca gave birth to two daughters – Margery Agnes, born 23 July 1908, and Jean Elizabeth, born 25 Aug 1910. Around the time of Margery’s birth, Bill resigned from the Education Department to take a position as a master at the Melbourne Church of England Grammar School. Aside from teaching English, mathematics and physics Bill was actively involved in the school’s cadet corps. Under his leadership the Grammar Cadets performed well in the popular cadet competitions. An excellent rifle shot himself, Bill naturally took a special interest in the school’s rifle teams. On three occasions he coached them to win the prestigious Cumming Cup – a rifle shooting competition held between the leading public schools.

Bill’s natural flair as teacher elicited descriptions that included: "buoyant, manly, intelligent and stimulating". He was also regarded as an excellent disciplinarian, something that was prized in Victorian Australia and did not imply an overuse of the cane. He was regarded as being thorough in all aspects of his work and had also earned the respect of his fellow masters.

Following the annual examinations held at the University of Melbourne in December 1913, it was announced in The Argus newspaper that Bill Hoggart had passed his Bachelor of Education.

He remained at Melbourne Grammar until 9 October 1914, when he enlisted for overseas service after the outbreak of war. Bill was 38 years of age when he joined the AIF. He made an application for a commission on 29 November, which was immediately granted. He was recommended to the rank of captain and given command of B Company of the 14th Infantry Battalion. At 5-foot 10-inches and 11-stone 7-pounds, Bill was lean and fit – and he cut a handsome dashing figure in his officer’s uniform.

The troopship Ulysses sailed from Port Melbourne three days before Christmas 1914. Bill had bid a final farewell to his wife and their daughters before boarding ship and embarking for Egypt.

On 12 April 1915, Bill and his men were once more onboard ship – this time it was the transport Seang Choon and they were on their way to Gallipoli.

In a letter written from Lemnos to Dr John Smythe, the principal of the Melbourne Teacher’s College, Bill Hoggart described all the sights he had seen thus far…

‘…Dear Doctor,
We are lying in a harbour almost within sound of the enemy’s guns and yet you Melbourne folks know far more of the war than we. Most of our news is gleaned from month old Australian papers. Our regiment of 1000 fighting men, physically as good as anything at the front, is in splendid spirits, all ready for the business ahead. We are thoroughly equipped and have served out ammunition, “iron” rations and field dressings. I do not suppose that we will do anything very great and trust that we will do nothing mean. A stranger in the transport would not think we are on the brink of active service. The talk in the officer’s mess is more of what we will do after the war when we return to Australia. Every one nourishes the pathetic fallacy that he will “come through all right”. This cheerfulness is not confined to us. The men too are in high spirits: as I write a full-throated chorus of the National Anthem rings out. It is the ending of a “complimentary concert” tendered to our own regiment by the men of a New Zealand battalion whose transport is lashed to ours.

I spent the afternoon reading Scott’s Pirate and listening to my diminutive Cingalee cabin boy who unfolded a wondrous tale of how he had “knocked out” a certain Chinaman who lives in the dim recesses of the fo’c’sle. This Homeric conflict was gone through in pantomime from the preliminary sparring for an opening until the delivery of the final deadly uppercut. This fiery Cingalee further informed me that he had at one time been body-servant to no less a person that Jack Johnson. Hence his pugilistic prowess. I take his word for it and furthermore forgive him for much prior neglect of his cabin duties. I now know why the cistern that supplies my wash bowl was often empty, whereas the tin that receives the waste waters thereof was invariably overflowing. How could a man who had waited on the mighty Jack Johnson be expected to fill the one or remove the other?

Our ship is worked entirely by “boys” of various colours – Lascars, Japanese, Cingalese, Chinese, Madrasese. The ship’s doctor is a Parsee and two of the mates are Japs. The black chief steward is obsessed with the number 10. At every meal the menu card shows 10 courses no more, no less. We live simply so he is hard put to it to fill the bill. He starts off boldly with soup then we have (2) steak (3) onions (4) potatoes (5) cabbage (6) marmalade (7) bread and butter and just when you think that you have him beaten he calls up his reserves and rounds off the list with (8) dessert (9) fruits and (10) coffee. These three items invariably end every meal. The dessert does not always materialise and the coffee is often condensed water.

You will have heard a good deal about our work in Egypt. At times we worked very hard but we also had our “glad days and jolly days”. The most interesting part of the training was the Divisional work. This means the turning out of something like 20000 men and 10000 horses. You will understand that a division can only concentrate and display only once in a day. We generally had one day a week of this training and it was the most valuable of all. These manoeuvres were made as realistic as possible. We did several attacks with ball cartridge, the objective being dummy figures placed in trenches. In one of these we advanced under cover of shrapnel fire. The premature burst wounded a light horseman but not seriously. We also did some night work against trenches protected by wire entanglements. The only way to deal with barbed wire seems to be to throw it into the sea. If you cut it, it is still there. If you send out adventurous spirits with grappling irons they haul it up by the roots only to dump it elsewhere. “Though our Achin’ is cut off the accursed thing remains”. I would like those people in Australia who call us “six shilling a day tourists” to see the regiment slogging home through the sand after a field day, the men in marching order with their faces greeny-gray from the caked dust. They perhaps have tramped 20 miles through the sand and have been “bucketed about” in an attack over the desert hills. And all they get for lunch is a scanty ration of bread and jam. Contrast them with the immaculate young men who in summer “camp” around the foreshore of Port Phillip and who send group photographs of themselves to the illustrated papers (crossed Union Jacks in the background) under the titles of The Lilies, The Daffodils or The Slipstones10. The climate of Egypt greatly surprised us when we arrived in February, the days were warm but the nights intensely cold. Minor poets and lady novelists write of the burning plains of Egypt. Try ‘em on the outpost line at 3 AM.

I have had a grand chance of seeing this wonderful old country and have found it a land of contrasts. I do not know whether you have been in Egypt or not. You find the intensest (sic) of culture and absolute desert, electric trams passing through fields painfully cultivated and watered by means of instruments which you see carved in the hieroglyphs of the temples, a climate which seesaw between a grill and a refrigerator, the 400 year old tombs lit by electric light, magnificent mosques rising from amongst squalid hutches, motor cars jossling (sic) camel trains, Marconi stations near the site of the ancient city of Om, an Australian army camped at Heliopolis. You could multiply these examples easily.

I have seen some 500 miles of the Nile Valley. It is one huge market garden and farmyard. In and around Cairo I have found time to visit the pyramids, the wonderful tombs of Sakkara, the Ali Mohammed mosque, the tomb of the Mamelukes, the Roman aqueduct, the great Delta irrigation works. A party of us spent two glorious days at Luxor where we saw the great temples of Karnak, Luxor and Amon Ra, the avenue of sphinxes, the colossi at Thebes, and, greatest of all, the tombs of the ancient kings. If you have been there you will know what a wonderland lies around Luxor. The tomb of Amenophis II impressed me most of all. The paintings and hieroglyphics on the walls of the passages leading to the tomb chamber are as fresh as if painted yesterday. The sarcophagus has been covered with a sheet of glass and the mummy unswathed. The old king lies as if carved from ebony, every feature and limb perfect. It is difficult to believe that he lived 1000 years before Socrates. In a niche nearby lie the bodies of his 3 favourite slaves and another niche was carved for his treasure chest. Why can’t we leave these old pharaohs undisturbed? A phrase of Charles Lamb’s about “meddlesome trouble-tombs” was at the back of my head all day.

I have had some admiration for the fellaheen who toil on their few feddans of land aided by the family buffalo, the family camel and the family donkey but his city bred brother is poor stuff. If he is wealthy he runs to fancy socks and loud suits and infests the city gardens. As far as superficial acquaintance with the situation here can be relied on there seems little chance of a rising against British rule. The Moslem section may be against us but they have no method of organising or of obtaining munitions of war. It is impossible to buy rifles or cartridges in Cairo. The Gyppie army has been sent away down to Khartoum except for a few squadrons of cavalry and a few companies of infantry while their barracks are occupied by territorials and Indian troops. If it were allowed to quote figures the number of troops in Egypt and along the Canal would surprise you.
I wish I were able to tell you something of what is going on around us. We form part of a force of mixed nationalities which is under the control of an English general of repute. If the expedition is successful the result should be historic and I for one will feel proud of having played a very small part in cancelling an event which happened in 1453.
I read your Christmas circular letter with pleasure and appreciate to the full the references you made concerning those members of College who are with the A.I.F.

Give my best wishes to Mrs Smith (sic) and tell her that I would be glad if she would call on Mrs Hoggart who will have an anxious time from now on. The address is 164 St Kilda St, Middle Brighton.
Yours sincerely,
Wm R Hoggart
(http://anzac.unimelb.edu.au/a-letter-from-gallipoli/)

The majority of the 14th Battalion landed at ANZAC on the day following the historic landing. They were immediately into the thick of the action, heading forward to Quinn’s Post.

Major Robert Rankine wrote the following description of the confusion and the mounting casualty count as the 14th Battalion fought through those first few days at Gallipoli:

'…At daylight the West Australians were trying to make good a position about 600 ft. high, a, ridge about half a mile long, but they were being cut up, and reinforcements were urgently called for, and I was sent with my company (now complete again) to try and get them out. We could only go in single file through the bush track, and the climb in the heat was most exhausting. All this way we met dead and wounded men urging us to come, as they were done. We struggled on, and I took up a position on the right (now known as Hell's Gate), not more than 100 yards from the Turks. It was now about 11 o'clock, and we fought on steadily, losing a man or two every now and again, but we managed to relieve our neighbours, and by 2-o'clock they were well dug in and had more reinforcements.

At this stage I was occupying a line boomerang in shape which formed the apex of the position, and was being pretty hard pushed, when without any warning the Turks got a maxim on to me, and in a minute and a half I had 23 casualties; the shrieks, groans, and yells of dying men were beyond all description, and I say that it is not to their discredit that for a moment they turned tail; but a few words steadied them; and we went at it again.

Poor Hanby was badly shot through the chest and the arm, and my faithful Cohen was shot in both
legs and arms, and most of my non-coms. were either killed or wounded. I looked round for Crabbe, and was pleased to find him all right and rallying his platoon.

We fought until dusk, and the Turks drew off a bit, so that the stretcher-bearers were able to work all night getting the wounded men away down the hillside. The dead we laid out as well as we could, but before we could bury them the Turks came at us with a night attack; but we drove them off and stood to arms until daylight. It seemed ages before it came, and several men were wandering in their minds.

In one day's fight I had lost 69 killed and wounded, and my poor company was but a shadow. We had no food and little water, and with daylight came brother Turk again, and we fought right through the next day, hanging on to what was the key of the position. I got messages during the day that they hoped to send me help the night of the following day, and meantime try and hang on.

Friday morning broke with rain, and it was a sorry, broken company that stood to arms for the last day. The brigadier sent a message to whoever was in charge that a party would be up to take Major Rankine's body down to the valley as soon as it was dark (they heard that I had been killed in the first fight). I sent word that D.V. I would bring my own body down.

At 3 p.m. three companies of the 13th arrived to relieve us. We had fought continuously and been almost without food (only biscuit and water) for 76 hours. As we left our simple trench we buried our dead, 39 of them, and tip-top. fellows. I put in a couple of Turks, and dished out as much of the service as I could remember, and gave them all alike. This painful job over, we trekked down to the valley, and had almost reached the bottom, when my second, Captain Wright, went off his head, and had to be strapped to a stretcher and taken off to the hospital ship. The strain had been too much, poor chap, but I hope to get him back in a few weeks.

The brigadier sent for me and said some very nice things, and told me that I had been, mentioned in despatches, which would appear in due course; but I did nothing to deserve anything, it was the good chaps I had, and if there was credit in it they earned it.

The days are not so bad, but the nights are very trying, for the Turks are trenched up to within 30 yards of us, and heave grenades into our trenches, and, needless to say, we repay with much interest. All outside our trenches the Turkish dead are lying in heaps, and about sun-down our trenches are almost unbearable, for the stench is awful. I don't think we are callous, but Crabbe and I made some tea in an old bully beef tin and had a ration biscuit with it, sitting within 2ft. of five of our own dead.

All our kit has been lost, and we have not even a handkerchief. There is no spare water, so we have a wash every week or so and we have not had our boots or putties off for 10 days. I have not slept more than an hour at a time, and then only during the day. The snipers are terrible, and you see men drop without knowing who has shot them. Don't think that it is all going one way; we give them a proper pasting every day or so, and they are good fighters. There is not one of us but will welcome the declaration of peace, and, oh, let it be soon!

War is a sordid, filthy, business, with hardship and privations unnamable; I am very fortunate in not having gone under yet, but if we had enough senior officers, I would apply for a 24--hours' sleep leave, for I am very weary, and my 'grey stuff' is not working well…’

In just three days the companies of the 14th Battalion suffered 31% casualties as they tried to dig in. The Turkish machine-gunners, who held the strategically higher ground, were responsible for the majority of the losses. Bill Hoggart was near Quinn’s Post on 27 April 1915 when he was struck and killed whilst trying to locate an enemy machine-gun that was firing on their lines.

Captain F. H. Wright wrote to Rebecca Hoggart as he lay recovering onboard a hospital ship.

‘…Dear Mrs. Hoggart,—As I was present fighting alongside your husband when he fell I feel that it is my duty to tell you how bravely he acquitted himself.

It was our first day of really strenuous fighting, and Captain Hoggart had part of his company up with ours when we rushed and occupied an important forward position. The enemy was pressing us very strongly, and our casualties were pretty numerous, but we were holding on well when, suddenly, a machine gun opened fire on our flank, grazing the fingers of my left hand and smashing my rifle. Our senior subaltern was hit in the chest, and it is doubtful whether he will recover, and several men went down. It was impossible to locate the gun, and another burst of fire played havoc with our hastily constructed trenches. Your husband then most bravely ran round to see if he could find out where the fire was coming from, and was immediately fired on and killed instantly. I think the date was 27th April, but as I am suffering from concussion from a shell burst, my head is not quite clear.

He was given a proper burial, and our chaplain, Captain Gillison, read the burial service. In the meantime we can only mark his resting place with a cairn of stones and a rough wooden cross, which has been done.

I am, of course, writing this unofficially, as no doubt the authorities will communicate with you, but I felt that you might like to know, from one who was with him, how very nobly and bravely he did his duty. I can only extend to you my very heartfelt sympathy in the loss of so brave a husband…’

Major Clive Connelly, who was later killed in action on 28 August 1915, wrote to his family in Bendigo of what he witnessed that day…

‘…I then went up with my men to where Major Rankine was holding the trenches, and just got there as poor Bill
Hoggart was shot through the back dead. I did not see him, as the hill had a bit of a curve. Lieut Hanby was also badly hit just about the same time. It was an uncomfortable place, as the snipers were shooting as us from the back. One man was shot near me whilst I was there by a sniper. Captain Hoggart and Lieut. Hanby were hit by a machine gun, I am told…’

Rebecca also received personal letters from Major Rankine, Major Connelly and Lieutenant H. N. Boyle, all of the 14th Battalion, who had been near her husband when he fell.

As was stated by Captain Wright, Bill’s body was buried immediately by Chaplain Andrew Gillison on Quinn’s Hill. The ‘cairn of stones’ placed by his comrades was soon lost in the sustained fighting over the area. He was later commemorated on a Special Memorial as “Believed to be buried” in the Quinn’s Post Cemetery. The headstone in the cemetery now bears the inscription, ‘Their Glory shall not be blotted out.’

Grief for the popular officer and school master was expressed across the State – ‘great regret’ was expressed in Beremboke for a teacher who had been ‘highly esteemed,’ and who was still remembered fondly there.

For Rebecca Hoggart, the expressions of sympathy, the tributes and the personal messages must have helped assuage her grief somewhat. She none-the-less had to be practical, after all there were two small girls who now relied solely on her. Although in receipt of pension from the government, she eventually returned to teaching. Rebecca never remarried.