Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

From Ballarat & District in the Great War

Many years ago, I read a series of letters written by a young soldier from Ballarat, but try as I might, no matter where I looked, I simply couldn’t find a photograph to accompany them. Knowing that he had led a life of achievement and adventure I just wanted to tell his story, but the impact needed an illustration to paint the words. Yesterday, at last I found that image of Hamilton Liddard and now I can finally, fully share his life.

Born in Ballarat East in October 1885, Hamilton Liddiard was the eldest child and only son of Ballarat-born couple Charles James Liddiard and Melinda “Willie” Grose.

From an early age, Ham and his younger sister, Alice Evelyn, were exposed to an energetic and community-focused father. Charles, who was a rates collector for the Ballarat Council, was also heavily involved in numerous groups at committee level, including the Ballarat Rifle Club, the Manchester Unity International Order of Oddfellows, the Poultry Society and the Ballarat Horticultural Society. This level of activity and commitment could not fail to have a positive impact on the children.

Young Ham received his primary education at the Urquhart Street State School. He also studied elocution, and violin with local music teacher, John Datson. In 1898 he competed at Ballarat’s iconic eisteddfod, Royal South Street, and was a prize winner in the under-13 violin solo. At the Annual Church Parade for the MUIOOF of the same year, Ham played alongside his teacher in the orchestra for the occasion

The following year, Ham won 1st prize in elocution at RSSS for a prepared reading entitled, “All About the Weather”; and he also received a special mention for playing a violin duet “The Last Rose of Summer” with a fellow pupil of Datson.

Ham continued his education at the Ballarat School of Mines studying mineralogy. In December 1903 exam results confirmed a pass in practical chemistry. But it wasn’t all work – Ham also took part in the SMB Sports that year, running in the open 100 yards, open 220 yards, the open 440 yards, the mile, and the ¼ mile steeplechase.

Shortly after moving to Blakeville, near Ballan, to pursue work in the local gold mine, Ham caused a great deal of concern and had his first adventure that could well have turned out very badly for him. On Tuesday 28 August 1905, Ham had gone out with a group of mates shooting wallabies. Given the prevailing weather conditions, it was not perhaps the smartest idea – but, young men are often noted for their feelings of invincibility. The snow over the hills that day was ‘fully 2 feet deep’ and, when Ham became separated from his companions, it wasn’t long before he was lost. Unfamiliar with the area, which is very rugged at the best of times, Ham just kept walking. Meanwhile, a major search party was raised and continued looking for him throughout the night and into Wednesday. At midday, Ham wandered back into Blakeville ‘little the worse for his experience.’

As it was, Ham was to spend many years in the Blakeville area and he would get to know his way around better than most. His work title was “prospector”, which for most would conjure images of a lone soul wandering the area in search of the elusive golden ore that had made the district famous around the world. However, with his extensive training and education, Ham was actually the very serious form of this seemingly innocuous title.

By early 1907, the government battery at Blakeville had been erected and was ready to begin processing the tons of ore being brought in by the local companies. The richness of the seams being discovered and the battery being located in the town was seen as ‘a boon to the district.’ Ham went into partnership with another miner, Joseph Skinner from Blackwood, and they took over a mine known as The Old Undaunted.

In August the following year, Skinner and Liddiard were able to extend their holdings by obtaining ‘George and Gunsser’s old “show”’, which had prospects at the 60-feet level. This brought about a surge in goldmining in the area.

Ham Liddiard wasn’t one to sit on his proverbial laurels – he continued his studies at SMB, and in January 1908 results of his successful examinations in mining and factory engine driving were published in the newspapers. He was also playing cricket for the Blakeville team, although he doesn’t appear to have been particularly outstanding in either batting or bowling – his fielding, however, appears to have been quite slick.

In February 1909, Ham was still mining at Blakeville as “Liddiard and party” and they were extracting gold from “Luck’s Way” and from George’s newly found reef, which was believed to be a continuation of the Golden Hope lode. The first crushing of 5-tons of stone yielded 20 ounces of gold – nearly $44,000 on current prices.

As the years passed, Ham continued to build his holdings at Blakeville. He also had to deal with the realities of life in an isolated bush community. During bushfires in January 1914, he nearly lost his house to the flames – the veranda was alight and ‘it was only after strenuous efforts that the building was saved.’

The isolation also prompted a relationship with Clara Binder in Blackwood. Newly widowed and the mother of five children, Clara was also suffering from the same isolation and loneliness. Their daughter, Alice Mavis, named after Ham’s sister, was born in May 1915.

When baby Alice was just 15-months old, she suddenly became very ill. Ham raced her into the Ballarat Hospital, where she was diagnosed with cerebro-spinal meningitis. Even with today’s modern medicine, meningitis (meningococcal) is often fatal. For children in the early 1900’s it was usually a death sentence. Alice died on 1 August 1916.

It seems apparent that Ham loved his little girl, but what is not so clear is if her death prompted him to join the AIF. There is also the possibility that he felt he could no longer continue the relationship with Clara. He enlisted at the Melbourne recruiting depot on 12 April 1917. When answering key questions, Ham said he was single and that he was living with his parents at 609 Lydiard Street north, in Ballarat. There was no mention of Clara Binder.

Ham had never shown any particular interest in the military; he had been born before the compulsory training of boys, so had no military experience. However, he was very fit and there was a definite need for men of his experience in the mining corps on the Western Front.

After successfully passing his medical examination – he was 5-feet 8-inches tall, weighed just over 10-stone, and could expand his chest by 5-inches from a very moderate 32-inches – Ham was assigned to the Tunnelling Companies. The medical officer recorded Ham as having a fresh complexion, blue eyes and brown hair, with a good physical development. His eyesight was rather poor, with his left eye being significantly worse. His occupation was stated to be a battery manager, which indicates he had moved on from prospecting to a more senior position.

On 1 August 1917, the day that Ham was posted to the 3rd Tunnelling Company at Seymour Camp, an In Memoriam for baby Alice Liddiard was printed in the Melbourne newspaper, The Age. Once again, it is not clear who was responsible for its publication – it refers to her being the ‘loved baby of Hamilton (late battery manager, Blakeville) and Clara’ and was completed with a simple tribute:

‘There are many can tell the secret tear

Is always the hardest to bear.’

It almost seemed as if Clara was reaching out, trying to remind Ham of their connection. Sadly, it doesn’t appear to have had the required outcome. Later correspondence from Clara to the Base Records Office of the army indicates that there was no further contact between the pair.

During training for non-commissioned officers at Seymour, Ham was promoted to the rank of corporal. He continued training, moving between the camps at Seymour, Bendigo and Broadmeadows, before he finally embarked overseas on 21 November 1917. The troopship Nestor made the trip to Egypt in a remarkably quick time, docking at Port Suez on 15 December.

Following a brief stopover, Ham embarked again on 8 January 1918. The trip from Alexandria to the Italian port of Taranto took just four days. He then travelled across country by train to Cherbourg, before sailing for England. After landing at Southampton on 24 January, Ham immediately marched into the No3 Camp at Parkhouse.

Interestingly, he was reverted to the rank of sapper on arriving in the camp – and the very next day he was promoted to corporal again, with extra-duty pay! Paperwork or a lack of communication? When he finally sailed for France on 2 March 1918, he was once again reduced to the rank of sapper.

On 12 March, Ham joined the 3rd Tunnelling Company at Vermelles, south-east of Bethune. He was attached to the Technical Corps due to his expertise in this area of mining rather than joining the miners in the dangerous underground tunnels.

Ham was to keep up a steady flow of letters to his father in Ballarat, which helped to illustrate everything he was experiencing.

‘…France looks very different from the scene that greeted me on my arrival. It was then bleak and raw— the trees had no leaves and mud was everywhere. Now the countryside is awake and smiling as might be expected in open country. Crops of wheat, oats, barley, rye, and potatoes are heavy. It is quite an Australian scene.

The wild flowers are a picture. There is near by a field of poppies of some acres, with daisies showing pretty thickly in clusters, and cornflowers. The poppy predominates, and the effect is one blaze of red. It is only on close inspection that one notices the red, white, and blue.

Close handy is a shrine, shelled and shattered. France is very keen on shrines and churches. Every village has its church. When it has a tower, Fritz uses it to range, as it stands up so distinctly. When the village is towerless, Fritz batters the place down. The shrines would serve no military use that I know of, but Fritz knocks them down on principle; or is it only for practice? Anyhow, I always think of Guy Thomas

'When It Was Dark' when I see Christ blown off His crucifix. It looks very symbolical of what might happen if Fritz did come out on top.

However, it's a long lane that has no turning, and he should soon be getting his own back, plus interest.

Fritz sits quiet and makes one man with a very light pistol do his observing at night. These pistols fire a cartridge about 8 or 10 gauge, like a duck cartridge, but instead of a shot it has an aluminium cylinder with magnesium powder in it. This takes fire in the air, and lights up the sky. When the magnesium is coloured with various metals, we get S.O.S. signals—perhaps two reds and a blue, and so on. One colour will direct artillery to open fire.

When there is a night raid the whole place for miles is lit up. I saw a midnight, raid recently, and Fritz's line looked like a city, but, of course, the lights did not last long. Perhaps I should say It was more like a gigantic fireworks display, with the artillery for explosives, and the rifles and machine-guns for crackers. Then the aeroplanes drop lights also, some with parachutes attached. These burn for a long time.

Fritz has a light that has several times puzzled me. It is like a big bright star, and fixed. I saw several burning for hours before his big stunt. We use very few lights, which are of service to both sides…’

Several months into his time on the Western Front saw Ham develop a troublesome cough. On 26 August he reported sick to hospital and the following day he was admitted to the 12th Stationary Hospital. Initially, although his medical notes were marked “not yet diagnosed”, it was feared that he had tuberculosis of the lungs. This appears to have not been the case, as after less than two weeks, Ham rejoined his unit on 7 September.

‘…15 September 1918

Latterly we have been getting our own back, and we have to break his morale, which is no easy thing to accomplish.

Now that I am practically well again, I am hopeful of getting even with Fritz for the frequent ‘breezes’ he has put up on me.

[Referring to a young Canadian soldier who was in a bed near him in hospital] His eyelids and lips were burnt nearly off and his face, neck, left shoulder and breast were black. The poor fellow practically coughed and frothed his lungs away during the three days and two nights he lasted. He died in excruciating agony, but did not utter a murmur. They only kept him alive so long with oxygen and I reckon his night nurse was a jewel. I would feed the German swine and pacifists on their own gas if I could. Fritz started the gas trick, but he has had his full of ours since…’

In this letter, which was written to a friend in Ballarat, Ham intimated that the Allies were anticipating ‘a big assault by the Huns’ in the very near future, but as history records, the war was all over bar the shouting. The horrors that were evoked by the first full-scale use of chemical warfare, however, remain as violently shocking today as they did to the men who lived through it over 100 years ago.

'…All bridges are destroyed, and in places the Hun has dammed back the canals to flood the country. His billets have been sumptuous. Every little dugout has its mirror - some full-length - and valuable furniture, all of which had been broken up, and the place had been left in an indescribably filthy condition. My observations compel me to the conclusion that the German is an absolute swine. I am satisfied it is a national trait, which did not require much developing.

Within a hundred yards of me there is a wrecked brewery. In the centre were two fine tiled bathrooms. There is no sign of one of our shells having come into the rooms, but the baths are smashed and the place filthy as usual...

[Referring to the Germans' apparent shortage of materials by the end of the war]

His rifle cartridge cases are of soft iron copper-plated. The shell cases for his anti-aircraft guns and the driving bands on his shells are also of iron. His sandbags and hessian are made of paper. He has no rubber.

A motor transport damaged by our shell fire lies close handy with iron wheels and steel tyres. His gas masks resemble a pig's face with a purifying canister for a snout - hoggish again. His automatic pistol is a fine weapon. It holds ten cartridges in the clip and 32 in a special spiral magazine…'

Ham included a sample of the 'paper hessian' made by the supply-strapped German forces with this letter to his father Charles Liddiard. It was generously noted at the time that this was a 'tribute to the inventiveness of the enemy.'

By the time Ham wrote his next letter home, the war was over and the beginnings of a very strained peace had begun. Although Ham had survived the war, the family did not escape without loss. His cousin, Victor Grose Warburton, had been killed in action at Pozieres on 25 July 1916.

During the early stages of occupation following the signing of the Armistice, many local soldiers found them involved in cleaning up the devastated battlefields and the many towns that had been destroyed by the ceaseless bombardment. Ham was able to move about more freely and gained a fuller perspective of what the people had suffered.

'…I am leaving Belgium today (28th November), and returning to France, about 11 kilometres from Lille, prior to a trip to England.

The job has been pretty thorough by the terms Germany must accept. It seems a wonderful thing to smash such a nation so completely. No one can blame another nation for trying to play first fiddle instead of second, but the German methods were so questionable that the enemy proved themselves not to be entitled to a place at all in the orchestra of nations.

The 'Belges' related some tough tales. Fritz told them so many lies about the conquest of Paris, the starving British, and so many other variegated untruths that when the outlook for the Allies was critical in March and 'Jerry' was jubilant, the Belgians merely shrugged their shoulders and declared it was another German manufactured lie.

I believe the Belgians published and circulated a paper in the face of the most rigorous conditions and the presence of innumerable German spies. One little lady, whose father ran a beet sugar factory - some place, too - on learning the British had declared war, borrowed all the English books she could in order to be able to converse intelligently with the British troops when they had ridded Belgian soil of the detested 'Jerry.' She spoke English fairly fluently.

On 31st October 'Jerry' destroyed the factory. There were four Lancashire boilers, and he put a bomb in the firebox of each, likewise in five cross compound engines and air compressors. He 'pinched' the plugs out of the brass cocks, but left the shells. There are tons of brass and copper he missed. Now we are using his bombs to blow up fish in the canal.

The people follow us like sheep, and rake in a good harvest. Yesterday they themselves tried bombing, and I saw one nipper with a bomb detonated and the button hanging out of his pocket ready to be pulled. I guess some of them will lose a little of their assurance soon. I tried to explain and warn him, but all he would say was, 'I compre.' So he had to take his chance. Fritz left waggonloads of bombs, and goodness only knows what will happen to some of the unsophisticated Belgians…'

Of course, Ham was not to know that one hundred years after the beginning of the war Belgian farms would still require collection points at their front gates for the “iron harvest” that is constantly uncovered as the fields are ploughed, or that Belgian farmers would still be dying as a result of the unexploded munitions that lay concealed in their fields.

‘…9 December 1918

We are billeted here [France] for the winter, as far as we know; and it is curious we are in the billets Fritz occupied when going into the trenches against us.

The people were indignant at the action of the Germans in stealing the flowers from the graves of our men to place on those of their soldiers. Such pettiness and lack of sentiment exasperated the French people.

In many parts the French people have had a much rougher time than the Belgians. Girls were made to work hard at munitions in winter and driving horses and harvesting in summer. Fritz would even stoop to stealing the girls' bit of food, besides striking them with sticks over the shoulders. One family only once in four years tasted meat, and that was horse. One of our bombs knocked out an Austrian battery, and the civilians were allowed to use the horses' carcasses for meat. If they became sick, they would be fined. There were no drugs but opium, which was given for all cases, even for hunger.

Fritz fed his horses towards the end with chopped straw and potatoes, and the people declared that the animals became poor and were no good for food. He, however, in his hurry up left a lot of cattle and horses in Belgium…'

'…Belgium 17th December 1918.

[Describing the prospects of pursuing 'the Hun'] …The only drawback is the cold, and I guess that as I cannot skate, I am about to have an elegant chance of learning.

It has been a remarkable crash. Unless you could see the demolition the Hun has carried out you could not credit it. It is very thorough. Germany will be off the map soon.

It would be unwise to send any more parcels, for we don't know the next move.

I intend taking a course of assaying while awaiting transportation in England. What with new alloys, &c, one might easily get behind the times. I suppose married men will be first away, and long-service men next. So, I suppose it will be some little time yet before most of us reach home…'

After the cessation of hostilities in Europe, Ham was indeed given the opportunity to study assaying and metallurgy. He began studying at Chelsea’s South West Polytechnic Institute in London on 29 April 1919. This he did on full pay, subs and fees. The course was intended to finish on 31 July, but on 31 October 1919, Ham was granted an extension to continue at the school.

Within days of receiving this extension, however, Ham was given the opportunity of working for one of the major tin mining companies in Nigeria, and immediately sought to obtain his discharge from the AIF.

‘…Sir, Having obtained the offer of a good position in Nigeria on completion of course of assaying and metallurgy at Polytechnical, Chelsea – I am desirous of accepting it as the experience gained will be of great value, apart from financial reasons. I also hope by completion of engagement to have gained the confidence of the Company sufficiently to permit of my undertaking similar development work in Australia on my return and this the more strongly as Mr Iles – General Manager – is himself an Australian…’

Rayfield’s Tin Mining Company, Nigeria, confirmed that Ham Liddard was indeed going out to Nigeria in their service.

He was discharged from the AIF in London on 27 December 1919, by which time he had received a lucrative job offer from Rayfield’s. Nevertheless, he had to provide assurances to the Defence Department as it was part of the agreement of enlistment that servicemen would return to Australia for demobilisation.

‘…In applying for my discharge in the United Kingdom, I beg to request that Ruling 27 be set aside for the following reasons –

It is my intention to return to Australia on completion of my present engagement with Rayfield Ltd and the experience gained in the exploration for an development of tin together with the technical training just completed, will be of advantage to myself and Australia….

I am quite alive to advantages and benefits derived and hope by using them to satisfaction of the Company to procure their support in Australia, which later I hold to be of real importance, so capital is badly required for development of many of our so called “Complex Ore Bodies”…’

He went on to state that should he be forced to return to Australia they would be wasting the cost involved in doing so, as he fully intended to leave for Africa immediately upon discharge anyway.

His proposed residence on discharge was 5 Francis Street in Truro – in the middle of the tin mining belt of Cornwall. It was during his time in Cornwall that he was to meet his future wife, Annie Melinda Michael.

On 17 December 1919, Ham boarded the SS Appam and sailed for Nigeria. His trip was funded by the Associated Nigerian Mines. This was to be the beginning of his connection with Africa and the first of many trips backwards and forwards to England.

When he arrived in Northern Nigeria to take up an engineering position overseeing a major tin mine, Ham found the conditions very different to any he had experienced before.

[***warning – the following letter uses language and attitudes common at the time, which can now cause offence]

 ‘…When it rains there, it 'did rain,' and the rivers and creeks rapidly overflow. On one occasion I visited a friend some distance away, and took a ''boy" with me. On the return journey the 'boy' lost the track, and we camped near a dead tree all night. Fortunately, no hyenas disturbed us.

It is a lonely life. My nearest neighbour is five miles away. It is another company, and if a native does not go on its hands and knees to salute its officer he is flogged. Some of the Crown colony officials are the greatest autocrats one ever came across, and nearly eaten up with conceit because they have a few niggers to boss around. I guess I get more out of mine and I haven't smacked one yet. I have had a pull on the rope with them, and some stick pulling and putting the stone.

On Sunday I am offering 1/- a head to all who can beat me in the water. My paddock makes an ideal swimming hole, free from snakes. The snakes here are deadly things. In colour they are ash-grey and almost the same colour as the granite. I killed one at my door the other morning. At that time, it was hanging on to a big toad.

I have a great idea I passed through auriferous country in the train, and I intend trying it. Tin is all right, but it is too bulky and costs too much for freight.

The only country that remains is the Sha Falls, where the pagans are a truculent lot. The Government keep it closed on that account, but it is only a matter of time before they must open it and keep a couple of companies of Hansa boys handy. When they let the Hansa boy in, they clean up everything, for a Hansa boy with a rifle or sword and the fighting fever would kill his own father and mother. They are, quiet enough, but one never sees them without spears and clubs.

We have great trouble with paper money. Fancy a nigger dressed mostly with a piece of string getting paper. He rolls it in his waistband, and when it gets greasy the rats get it, or perhaps it blows away. In any case it is a nuisance.

They melted down silver for ornaments, but why aluminium has not been used for tokens I cannot understand. Many of those who have been in darkest Africa live in a hammock or deck chair, with a nigger near to hand a sparklet in a water cooler. This type make their cash by profiteering, and despise the man they made it from. How are these for price: — Sugar, four lumps for 3d.; fruit, 3/6 tin; herrings, 2/6; sauce, 2/-…’

Having spent over two years living in these primitive conditions, Ham returned to England in 1922, landing at Liverpool on 14 May.

In 1926, Ham married Annie Michael. Annie, who was born in Truro in 1898, was considerably younger and certainly far less experienced than her worldly new husband. Their only child, Hamilton F. Liddiard, was born in Truro the following year. Sadly, the baby only lived a short while, leaving Ham to once again grieve the loss of a child.

From that time, Ham and Annie travelled together between Truro and Lagos on a regular basis.

In 1929, Ham was made an associate of the South West Polytechnic; he also made several donations of African items to the British Museum. In November of the same year, he wrote to his father of a discovery he had made of an extensive and rich tin field near a place he called Gombar. He was also marketing the patent rights for machinery that he had designed during his time in Africa.

Ham was in Lagos when his parents died within three months of one another in 1930 – his father in May, followed by his mother in August. He never returned to Australia.

In 1936, members of Ham’s family visited he and Annie in Nigeria. Their photographs showed a very primitive farm and a town of typically very British buildings.

His associations with Nigerian tin mining were extensive – particularly the Keffi Consolidated, and finally the Argus Tin Corporation.

In July 1939, Ham was involved in an accident, in which he suffered a compound fracture to his leg. Miles from the type of medical assistance he desperately required, it wasn’t long before he developed septicaemia. He died on 31 July 1939 at Bukuru, Nigeria.

Annie Liddiard returned to England, where she remarried. She died at Wood Green in Middlesex on 2 July 1960.