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From Ballarat & District in the Great War

LCpl Reginald 'Reg' Archer 3108

 
“May there be no sadness of farewell
When I put out to sea.”

In the Kimberley Region of Western Australia, seemingly a million miles from anywhere, lies the coastal pearling town of Broome. Overlooking the turquoise waters of Roebuck Bay, Broome at one time could claim the most cosmopolitan community in Australia – and prior to the Great War it was also home to the Archer brothers from Sebastopol.

It seems that the sea was in Reg Archer’s blood. Although at first glance it is hard to see why or where. Digging a little deeper it soon becomes apparent.

Reginald Archer was born in Adelaide on 1 May 1892. He was the youngest of the nine children born to Thomas Francis Lowndes Archer and Elizabeth “Lizzie” Madden.

The Archer family originated in London, where Reg’s grandfather (also named Thomas) was baptised at All-Hallows-on-the-Wall on 29 Dec 1822. His great-grandfather (also Thomas) was a shoe and bootmaker, never straying far from his home areas of Spitalfields and Bishopsgate.

Thomas Archer was 18 when he arrived in Van Diemen’s Land in 1840. According to his family, the intrepid Thomas worked his passage as ‘a first or second mate’ from Liverpool onboard the barque Cecilia.

At the same time, a young Scotswoman was slaving away in the brutal conditions of the Cascades Female Factory in South Hobart. Catherine Barrie had suffered considerably in her short life – she was born in Glasgow on 15 March 1818, and was just three when her father, a ‘sometime seaman’ working for the company of John Thomas Alston, drowned after falling off his vessel into the River Clyde. Growing up in Glasgow during the 1820’s was particularly tough for a little girl. From the age of 10 she was sent ‘all over the country’ carrying out menial jobs. Her education was minimal and she had ‘no proper guardian.’

When she was 20, Catherine was charged alongside five other women with stealing shawls. At the Ayr Assizes on 24 September 1839, she was sentenced to transportation to Van Diemen’s Land for ten years.
Catherine, along with 184 other female convicts, sailed from London onboard the Gilbert Henderson. According to a young midshipman, conditions onboard the barque were better than most would expect and ‘punishments were few and far from severe, and, as a general rule, after the first month at sea were seldom called for.’ However, he also described a particularly cruel form of punishment for the ‘more refractory,’ who were placed in a ‘sentry box.’

‘…The culprit was placed in this box, where she was compelled either to stand upright, or to stoop in an uneasy posture for an hour, or two, or three, according to the nature of the offence; and when the door of this prison was closed the only light and air came from a hole in the top…’

The Gilbert Henderson reached Hobart on 30 April 1840.

‘…In the course of a day or so the convicts were all removed from the ship which had so long been their home – perhaps as I have said before the happiest home many among them had ever known…’

For Catherine Barrie this may well have been the case. However, life at the Cascades Female Factory would quickly dispel any thoughts of happiness she may have experienced. The Female Factory was a brutal place, where women were forced to work in slave-like conditions. Catherine quickly learned what it was like to be completely powerless.

When she gave birth to a son, Thomas Barrie, on 28 July 1842, Catherine was still a convict and it is unclear if she was allowed to keep the baby. Or who fathered the child. The child’s death on 1 January 1843 made both points moot.

Her meeting with Thomas Archer was the first real chance Catherine had of a new beginning.

On 7 August 1844, the couple were married at the Parish Church of the Holy Trinity in Launceston. As a convict, Catherine had still required permission to marry.

Catherine and Thomas had come from very different backgrounds, but both had suffered the early loss of their fathers – Thomas Archer had been just 10 when his father died in 1832. They both also understood the meaning of hard work.

Their first child, Thomas Francis Lowndes Archer, was born at Launceston on 16 July 1845. At the time of his birth, Catherine was still on conditional liberty. She received her ticket of leave a year later after serving nearly seven of her ten-year sentence. The family made their home at Invermay on the outskirts of Launceston.

On 19 March 1850, a young Irish family arrived in Port Phillip Bay. In many ways there was nothing to distinguish them from hundreds of other immigrants – they had come to the colonies in search of a better life. John and Julia Madden, with their infant daughter, Lizzie, had fled horrendous conditions in their homeland brought on by years of devastating famine. They had come from the historic town of Gowran in County Kilkenny, a place historically the seat of the Kings of Ossory. During the Great Hunger, there was little for the common people that represented any royal trappings. As potato crops failed year after year, the poorest of Ireland’s people, the agricultural labourers, suffered disproportionately. For many the alternative was potential starvation or the workhouse.
‘…Bad as the workhouses in general were, that of Kilkenny was particularly bad. During the famine it was reported “that the Kilkenny workhouse has long been a bye-word…amongst the workhouses of Ireland, as being one of the worst managed.”…’

Those forced into the workhouse faced grim conditions: to be poor was seen as a sign of laziness and they were treated accordingly. Food was poor, work monotonous and pointless, and families were forcibly separated.

Kilkenny was also ravaged by an epidemic of typhus, with dysentery and cholera killing many who were already weakened by malnourishment.

John and Julia Madden had already lost their first daughter, Mary Jane, at the height of the famine. They then received a lifeline in the form of assisted passage to Australia.

The discovery of gold brought the Madden family to Ballarat. Long after the deep leads had taken over from alluvial mining, John Madden continued to work as a miner. They eventually settled in Magpie Gully at the southern end of Sebastopol.

Julia Madden was to become one of the best known faces in the growing borough. She was a ‘splendid’ nurse and she made herself freely available to anyone in need of help. It was later said that there were few homes in which she had not been ‘a welcome guest’ and she was ‘a friend to everyone in need.’

It is not immediately known how or when Thomas Archer met Lizzie Madden, but it appears that they were a good match. They were married at Sebastopol on 19 October 1870. Their first child, Thomas Albert Edward, was born there on 25 August 1871. A second son, John Madden, followed on 7 July 1873.

Soon after the arrival of their second child, Thomas received the offer of a position with the commercial department in the Adelaide office of Sands and McDougall – creators of that invaluable series of directories well used by historians and genealogists. They then made their home at Cypress Terrace in Wakefield Street in the centre of the city.

During their time in South Australia, Lizzie gave birth to a further seven children. The youngest, Reginald, was born on 1 May 1892 – making him nearly 21 years younger than his oldest sibling. Lizzie also buried two of her babies – Hilda May and Archer Bruce – when they were both just a few months old.
As the years past, Thomas Archer earned a degree of popularity both at work and in the community. He was a genial man, who was well known for his ‘hearty jokes.’ However, his health began to cause concern when little Reg was still just a toddler. In June 1896, ‘serious symptoms began to develop,’ and his doctor, the noted Adelaide surgeon, Ben Poulton, suggested he leave for Mildura in the hope that the warmer, dryer climate may provide some relief. Initially, it seemed that there was some improvement, before Thomas died on 10 July. His body was returned to Adelaide for burial in the West Terrace Cemetery.

This was a terrible blow to Lizzie and the children. Although her older sons were now earning their own way, Lizzie still had two school-age children and Reg, who had just turned four, to care for. On 11 September a concert was held at the Queen’s Theatre (“The Victoria”) in Playhouse Lane, to aid the grieving family.

Soon after her husband’s death, Lizzie packed up her children and moved to Fremantle. When Reg reached school age he was sent to the boys’ school attached to the Fremantle Ladies’ College. (Yes, the Ladies’ College had a boys’ school!) “Reggie” (as he was then known) was a bright little boy and at the annual speech and prize night held at the Fremantle Town Hall in December 1902, he was awarded a special prize for history.

After graduating to secondary school, Reg was enrolled at the Christian Brothers College. However, it was to be a short association. In 1906, Lizzie sent Reg back to Ballarat, where he was enrolled as a boarder at St Patrick’s College. He spent the next three years at the school.

By 1909, Reg’s older brothers had established themselves in the pearling industry centred at Broome in the far north of Western Australia. Jack Archer had worked in partnership with noted local pearl buyers, G. H. Burns and O. W. Blackman before branching out on his own. He purchased three pearl luggers and worked alongside his brother, Tom, to build a profitable business. The three boats, Eva, Gerald and Rosebud, became a familiar sight on the waters of Roebuck Bay. Jack also became the official representative in Broome for the pearl buyer, Mark Rubin.

After leaving school, Reg immediately travelled to Broome to join his brothers in the local pearling industry. While Reg worked as a shell opener, Dug Archer split his time between working in the offices of Streeter and Male (an independent hardware store) and operating the lugger, Eva.

In 1910, the brothers added a fourth boat, the Eleanor, which Tom sailed from Fremantle.

Pearling luggers were graceful two-masted wooden ketches of around 20-metres in length. Sitting low in the water, they were perfect for diving. Although the crew lived ‘like family’ onboard the luggers, they were often at sea for weeks at a time and conditions were cramped, with the boats being built for pearling and lacking even the basic amenities.

Whilst there was a degree of romance about pearling and old lugger sailors would reminisce about their time as the ‘saltwater cowboys,’ this was a very dangerous business.

References to the pearling industry of Broome is more than a little misleading – in the 1880’s it wasn’t pearls the men were seeking, but the shells of the oysters. The discovery of the oyster, Pinctada Maxima, in Roebuck Bay in 1861, had been the catalyst for the pearling industry. Mother-of-Pearl shell was used in the booming pearl-button trade. It was also used for making fine cutlery, hair combs, buckles and inlay for furniture and decorative items. But it was the buttons that left their mark. Shell from Broome was exported all over the world, leading to the saying “Broome was built on buttons.”

By 1910, Broome was the largest pearling centre in the world, producing around 80% of the world’s mother-of-pearl supplies. Men came from all over the Pacific region to work on the luggers – there were men from Malaysia, East Timor, China, Japan, the Philippines, and Ceylon (Sri Lanka), making the town the most multicultural place in Australia.

Pearling was also a brutal trade. In early years pearl divers were shamefully exploited. Local indigenous men, women and children were virtually kidnapped (“blackbirded”) and forced to dive for the shells in exchange for meagre offerings of food, tobacco and clothing.

There was also a rigid class system – under the Western Australian Pearling Act of 1913, only British citizens were allowed to own luggers. This placed white Europeans at the top of the social order, followed by the Japanese, who worked as divers, then other “Asiatics” with Aboriginals at the bottom. Tensions often boiled to the surface, with riots breaking out on several occasions.

Pearling was also treacherous work. The divers faced multiple natural dangers in the water – sharks, saltwater crocodiles, jellyfish, and unpredictable ocean currents. Cuts from jagged shells and rocks often became infected, and there was always a risk of decompression sickness – the bends – for men diving up to 12-metres in the water. But drowning was the biggest threat. There were countless incidents reported, including that of a Malay diver, who ‘met with a frightful death.’

‘Working in six fathoms on a very rocky bottom he got his foot jammed in the coral, and was unable to extricate himself. He gave the usual signal to the tender to make fast the anchor, but the lugger slowly drifted, thereby subjecting the air pipe to a severe strain, this caused the pipe to burst close to the tender. The crew made desperate efforts to haul the diver up, and failing, signalled another lugger for assistance. After the lapse of half an hour, a diver named Stores descended. With some hard work he succeeded in extricating the body…’

Another diver, descending in a strong tide, had his air pipe entangled in the anchor chain and spent nearly two hours under water; he was on the ‘verge of suffocation’ when he was rescued. Entangled air pipes was a common occurrence – Japanese diver, Mokei Ogasawara died when his air pipe became fouled around the coral.

Cyclones in the wet season could also descend with little warning, putting the boats and their haul at risk. From January through to April, the area was hit with frequent squalls (referred to as “cock-eye bobs,” by the locals) making it too risky for the luggers to head out. During this period they would “lay up” on the beaches of Roebuck and Beagle Bays. In December 1910, a cyclone wreaked such havoc that 95 boats were either sunk or driven ashore, 19 further vessels were unaccounted for.

Although it was the shell that earned the men their living, there was also the added prize of rare natural pearls. Gems from Broome fetched enormous prices on the open market, and in June 1909, one pearl sold for £1,750. However, compared to the gem discovered eight years earlier, it was a mere trifle.

‘…The owner of the pearl had been ‘laying asleep on his couch in the cool of his boatshed, when he was roughly disturbed from his peaceful slumber. On rising to his feet his shell opener put into his hand probably the most superb and wonderful pearl the world has ever seen…’

This pearl was estimated to be worth between £9,000 and £15,000. It was sent to London (with its shell) to ‘take a very prominent place amongst the great jewels at the coronation of King Edward.’

As a result of such wealth, illicit pearl dealing did occur, and when discovered was dealt with harshly. But it was very difficult to catch the culprits.

This was the world young Reg Archer, fresh out of school, entered as a teenager. His work as a shell opener onboard the Gerald was at the lowest end of the pecking order. However, this was very much a family affair. Not only did Reg have the company and support of his brothers, Tom, Jack and Dug, there was also Tom’s wife, Emily, and their three children, Dorothy, Jack and Ken. His uncle, William Albert Madden, who had retired from his position on the Sebastopol Borough Council, to undertake ‘a prolonged visit to [the] pearling grounds off Broome,’ completed the extended family picture.

An unforeseen byproduct of the Great War was an immediate depression in the pearling industry. When war was declared in August 1914, large numbers of men left Broome to join up. Jack Archer was hit hard when, as a consequence of the war, he was notified by Rubin to cease buying pearl and ‘that his services had been dispensed with.’ Prior to outbreak of war, Jack had been living beyond his means. The expectation that he was about to leave for London, where he was to work on behalf of Rubin for a salary of £3,000 a year, had seen his spending increase exponentially.

When Jack was unable to pay his crews – including Reg and his uncle, William, who was onboard the Rosebud – the men took him to court in March 1915. The men were owed over £375. In each case the amounts claimed (plus costs) was granted and Jack was forced to sell the luggers to pay what was owed. He then declared bankruptcy.

Young Reg Archer had been one of those early volunteers. His attestation papers had been completed at Broome on 5 February 1915, and signed by the Mayor of Broome, W. Clarke Hall, who was the enrolling officer. Doctor John Smythe Yule was responsible for Reg’s medical examination, remembering that at this point, the AIF restrictions were still very tight. There was no cause for concern where Reg was concerned – at 22, he had developed into a strongly built young man, although at 5-feet 5½-inches, he was not overly tall. He weighed 143½-pounds and could expand his chest to 39-inches. Despite long hours in the open, Reg was still fair skinned and his thick brown hair had not been bleached by the sun. He had a serious way of looking at the camera which made his startlingly light blue eyes seem quite piercing. Doctor Yule noted that Reg had two scars worth noting – one in his left armpit and another on the right side of his neck.

The formal enlistment process was completed at Blackboy Hill Camp outside Perth on 25 February. Reg then joined the 9th Depot Company in the camp.
In the years leading up to the war, Lizzie Archer had returned to Ballarat to live with her elderly mother in Victoria Street, Sebastopol. She was there when Julia died on 9 January 1915. Lizzie then moved to 56 Grant Street in Golden Point. By enlisting, Reg made sure that his mother was supported by allotting two-fifths of his pay for her use.

The weeks at Blackboy Hill were busy ones for Reg – he had no military training to fall back on and needed to learn quickly. In preparation for embarkation, Reg was posted to A Company of the 28th Infantry Battalion with the regimental number of 8.

On 3 June, the 28th Battalion marched through the streets of Perth in between ‘throngs of admiring citizens,’ to Government House, where Governor Sir Harry Barron took the salute. It had become a common sight to see troops marching through the city, but on this occasion all along the route the buildings were festooned with bunting and the level of enthusiasm made previous parades seem drab and colourless. A succession of bands ‘lent a spirit of animation and military circumstance’ to the event as nearly 1400 soldiers marched past.

Six days later a large, and equally enthusiastic crowd gathered on the wharf at Fremantle to wave the men off onboard HMAT Ascanius. Returning to Fremantle must have brought back many memories for young Reg, but he did not have long to indulge himself.
The Ascanius made the crossing to Egypt in quick time, reaching Suez on 29 June. The troops then travelled by train through to Polygon Camp at Abbassia near Cairo.

Late on 3 September, Reg was back onboard a train, this time he was heading to Alexandria. The transport Ivernia had been fitted out for the trip to the Dardanelles and they weighed anchor at 5pm the next day.

Travelling via Lemnos, Reg reached ANZAC around midnight on 10 September. He spent his first night in Taylor’s Gully some three miles from the beach. Moving into the line the next day, the 28th Battalion took up a position at the Apex near Chailak Dere.

Less than two weeks later, Reg reported sick to the 7th Field Ambulance before being admitted to the 13th Casualty Clearing Station on 25 September. At first it was thought that he was suffering from influenza, but after being transferred to the Hospital Ship Glenart Castle the diagnosis was changed to dysentery.

By the time Reg reached Egypt, he was running a high temperature and it was confirmed that he was suffering from enteric fever. He was admitted to the 1st Australian General Hospital in Heliopolis on 4 October. After nearly eight weeks in hospital, Reg was moved to the Convalescent Camp at Port Said. Although he was improving, it was recommended that he be sent back to Australia for ‘a change,’ with home conditions most likely to exact a full recovery.

Reg travelled back to Fremantle onboard the Wandilla. His mother was informed of his impending return while he was on the water.

The Wandilla docked on 7 January 1916, and a week later Reg was admitted to the No5 Australian General Hospital. When his tests came back clear, he was discharged to leave. A follow-up examination again showed him to be free of enteric and Reg left for Ballarat. He was able to enjoy three weeks with his mother before reporting for duty at Broadmeadows.
Owing to the supposed loss of his original papers, Reg re-attested on 30 March. In spite of the enteric fever, Reg had gained weight since he joined the AIF and now tipped the scales at a straight 12-stone.

Reg was back at Blackboy Hill by July. When he suffered a brief bout of influenza he was admitted to the Camp Clearing Hospital. He was discharged to light duty after four days in bed.

When the No6 Non-Commissioned Officers School convened on 15 September, Reg Archer was selected as one of the participants. He had been carrying out the duties of a corporal with the 22nd Depot Battalion to that point.

Enteric fever was particularly hard on the body and many didn’t survive the infection. It usually took months to fully recover. So, it was not surprising that Reg Archer was out of action for over a year. He finally began his trip back to the Front on 29 December, embarking from Fremantle onboard the troopship Persic with the 8th reinforcements to the 46th Infantry Battalion. This time he was wearing the single stripe of a lance-corporal on his sleeve.

After reaching the English coastal town of Devonport on 3 March, Reg was moved straight through to Codford Camp, where he joined the 12th Training Battalion. The meagre benefits he had gained from his appointment to lance-corporal were also taken away when he reverted to the ranks.

A second bout of influenza resulted in Reg being admitted to the Tidworth Military Hospital on 6 April. He spent twelve days in hospital before being transferred to a convalescent home, where he rested for a further two weeks.

When Tom Archer died suddenly from heart failure on 20 April 1917, the shock plunged the family into mourning. However, it is not known how or when Reg was informed of his brother’s death.

Troops in England, especially those unfamiliar with conditions on the Western Front, were given as thorough a regimen of training as was practicably possible. Various schools were set up to cover the pressures of trench warfare. Reg spent a significant period at the School of Instruction held at Candahar Barracks whilst stationed at Tidworth. There he would have been trained in the use of gas masks, bomb throwing, and bayonet fighting; he would have fired various weapons such as Lewis guns and rifle grenades, and been taught basic trench routines and wiring techniques. It was a dangerous and complex business.

By July, Reg was ready to leave for France. He sailed from Southampton on 23 July and reached the 4th Australian Divisional Base Depot at Le Havre the following morning.

When Reg joined his new unit, the 46th Battalion was working in the Wytschaete sector near Ypres in Belgium. They were then employed carrying stores to the frontline and working on improving the track known as Manchester Avenue. Reg had undergone a change in regimental number on his return to active duty, but due to a duplication of the number he had been allotted, the letter “A” was added to his 3108. He was also re-appointed to the rank of lance-corporal.

This was a momentous time to reach the Western Front. The Third Battle of Ypres began on 31 July and plans were unfolding for a strategic series of battles that would hopefully break the deadlock in the Salient. The “bite and hold” principal was to prove very successful, until the weather intervened. Initially, the 46th Battalion was held in reserve and did not enter the line until the 28 September during the consolidation of gains during the Battle of Polygon Wood.

In the lead up to the attack at Passchendaele on 12 October, the 46th worked tirelessly carrying ammunition and supplies to the forward area. It was dangerous labour, with the enemy increasing shellfire on the line. At the beginning of the battle, the 46th was once again held in reserve, again carrying ammunition and providing stretcher-bearers, before joining the 48th, 47th and 45th Battalions in the frontline later in the day.

A steady rotation of troops was maintained, but conditions were rapidly deteriorating with constant rain turning the churned-up moonscape into a muddy quagmire. Shell holes filled with water and mud became death traps for the wounded and unwary, and the misery experienced at Passchendaele exceeded anything previously known on the Western Front.
Finally, on 20 October the 46th was relieved from firing line and Reg enjoyed a well-earned rest in billets at Coyeques near St Omer.

The launch of the German Spring Offensive on 21 March 1918, prompted a flood of excited activity up and down the line. Reports were received on 26 March that the enemy were ‘pushing on fast’ and had already reached Hébuterne, just 8-miles from where the 46th were in billets at Bailleulval. Although these billets were ‘not too comfortable,’ there was no griping from the men, who were ‘eager to meet the enemy.’

After being ordered to dump their blankets and gear and reconnoitre, they set up a defensive position in front of the village. Around 5:30pm the unit set out ‘in high spirits at the chance of having an open warfare fight.’ The plan was to eject the enemy from Hébuterne. They had only gone some 2½-miles when they were ordered to return to Bailleulval.

‘…This damped the ardour of the men somewhat, thinking they were to be robbed of the promised fight. When we returned the village was full of troops who had arrived after we moved out, and our billets were therefore occupied…’

Later that night they were ordered to march through to Senlis-le-Sec. Each man was to carry 220 rounds of small arms ammunition (SAA) in preparation for any altercation with the enemy.

‘One Corporal, anxious to have sufficient, carried 270 rounds SAA, 6 rifle grenades and 4 Bombs the whole distance, which proved to be 18 miles.’

The night was cold, but the men were in excellent shape and not one fell out on that long march. They reached Senlis at 8am and enjoyed a hot breakfast from the cookers.

‘The men were all in good spirits although footsore and weary, but they knew the situation was serious and demanded their utmost efforts.’

Two hours later they moved to low ground on the western edge of the village of Millencourt and prepared to camp. Another very cold night was spent out in the open, laying in freshly dug holes covered with waterproof sheets. Even though a heavy frost coated the ground ‘the men were so tired that the cold did not prevent them from sleeping.’

Cold rain the next morning (28 March) made conditions ‘most uncomfortable; and around midday an enemy shell landed in the midst of A Company, killing five men. The enemy continued to shell the area during the afternoon, but there were no further casualties.

Rain continued to fall, making conditions underfoot ‘most unpleasant.’ Inspections of arms and ammunition was done twice daily to make sure everything was ready. It was a quiet Good Friday; they had ‘very little to do but wait.’

As the days crawled past, the men maintained their defensive position. They continued to be in good spirits and were ‘eager for a fight,’ but there was a sense of impatience ‘where there is never a hun to be seen, and only endless mud and enemy shelling.’

A lot of enemy movement was detected during the 31 March, ‘pointing to a probable attack tomorrow.’ This was indeed the case, with the enemy launching an attack on the 46th Battalion’s left flank around 8:30am without the usual preliminary bombardment. The Australians were ‘very keen’ and soon drove them back, taking several prisoners in the process.
Reg Archer was in the middle of one of the biggest build ups of the war. He watched as enemy aircraft flew over their lines and knew that further attacks were imminent.

The German artillery launched a heavy bombardment at 8:10am on 3 April and immediately followed this with a ‘spirited infantry attack’ on both flanks before converging on the centre. Although the 46th once again broke the enemy charge in quick time, they had suffered around 50 casualties from the preliminary shelling and enfilading machine-gun fire.

When another attack appeared likely for the 5 April, the men were warned to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. They were wet through and covered in mud, but more than ready for the coming fight.

At 6:30am the 46th Battalion moved to the reserve trenches near Laviéville. They had just reached their new position when the enemy hit them with a well-directed barrage of shells. ‘It was a marvel that heavy casualties did not occur.’ There were, however, 21 men killed. One shell landed directly in the trench near Private James Jackson ‘killing him and L/Cpl Archer outright.’ And just like that, young Reg was gone. According to various witnesses they were killed at about 4:30 in the afternoon, at the back of the railway at Dernancourt.

The two young men were buried side-by-side in the extension to the Millencourt Communal Cemetery, 2½-miles west of Albert.

Confirmation of Reg’s death reached Ballarat at the same time the Australians turned the German advance at Villers-Bretonneux. Despite this triumphant moment there could be no joy for the Archer family. To mark his death the flags were flown at half-mast on the Ballarat Town and City Halls on 28 April 1918. For his family it was a case of ‘Another ANZAC “gone west.”’
When it came time to pack up Reg’s personal items it became very apparent that his faith as a Roman Catholic had been central to who he was – along with his wallet and a certificate of instructions, were three religious medallions, a religious book, religious cards and five scapulars, tangible symbols of his commitment. Sadly, none of these precious items reached Lizzie Archer – they were all lost when the SS Barunga was torpedoed on 15 July 1918.

Further grief was visited on the Archer family in 1919. While Dug Archer was in Perth on holidays he decided to travel across to Ballarat visit his ‘aged mother.’ He was returning home when an attack of pneumonic influenza forced him to stop in Adelaide. His death on 24 July 1919 shattered the pearling community of Broome who were ‘staggered’ by the news.

For Lizzie there was one last sad task to be completed: she had to provide an inscription for the permanent headstone for Reg’s grave. She chose,
‘In sad and loving memory of my dearly loved son.
His sorrowing mother.’

Lizzie Archer died at St John of God Hospital, Ballarat on 27 April 1923; she was survived by only four of her children – Jack, Adelaide (Mrs Born), Edith (Mrs Dane) and Trixie (Mrs Treweek).

The family placed memorial plaques for Reg and Dug on their brother Tom’s grave in the Broome Cemetery. Reg’s plaque was later broken and removed.