Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

John Harold Bews was born at Baroota on 14th April, 1888.

John  married on 13th of September 1915 to Petanell (Nell) Whitford Northey who was also born in 1888 at The Manse, Parkes Municipality NSW in the presence of Alex G. Robertson and C. Caffenden.  They were married by Alexander Dunnett Robertson.  John at the time was a Motor Car Proprietor and lived in Trundle, NSW. In 1916 he opened a Motor Garage which he ran in conjunction with his brother David Ernest until 1930. Both of Nell’s parents had died prior to their marriage and Nell was six months pregnant with their child.  A son Harold John was born at Orange, NSW on 25.12.1915.   John had traveled to Melbourne prior to this and enlisted in the army on the 17th of December and before the birth was stationed at Royal Park in the 24th (Depot) Batt. AIF.  Unfortunately it had become obvious that he had not married out of love but rather that of duty.   He enlisted under the name of James Henry Thomas 4234, no longer wanting to be known by his true identity.  With brown hair, blue eyes and fresh complexion, a weight of 155 lbs and five feet 10 inches would have made a strapping young man of 27 years and eight months.  On January 18th 1916 he went to Ballarat, and was made Private on 3rd February 1916  On 17th April 1916 he was taken on strength from the 21st Batt to 5th Batt and embarked on “Alexandria on 19th June, 1916 and disembarked at Marseilles 25th July  and was made Corporal on 1st August 1916.  He was then promoted to Sergeant from 23rd October 1916 to complete establishment.  Wounded in action in France with gun shot wound to the right shoulder on 30th December, 1916 he embarked on H.S. Dieppe Calais for England on 4th February, 1917 and was admitted to Shoeden War Hospital later to return to Australia aboard the Devonport.  He was discharged on 5th September, 1917  

On his return, apparently disenchanted with marriage, he departed, so the marriage ending with divorce and John never really getting to know his young son. Nell petitioned for divorce on 2nd of August 1921.  Their son tried to contact his father in latter years (he was told by an Aunt that his father had a motor business in Moree under the name of William Henry Thomas - William Henry being his maternal grandfather’s given names and Thomas being his wife’s maiden name.) Upon writing to William Henry Thomas he wrote back to Harold wishing him well and explaining that he had started a new life and did not wish for any further contact.

John married Hilda May Jurd on 2nd April 1927 and they had two children Ross Harold born 24.7.1928 and Valma Marie born 3.1.1931 both taking the surname Thomas.  John, known as “James Henry Thomas” passed away on 2nd April 1949. 

The following is a passage written by his daughter Val about her parents: -

                As a young man, Dad’s father, John Bews had a Cobb & Co. coach building workshop in Toowoomba – Dad was left in charge of this workshop while grandfather Bews went off to his Masonic Lodge meetings, sending down and out Masons for Dad to employ, as he was the one left in charge of the workshop.  From what I gather, Dad got annoyed with this arrangement and accused his father of neglecting his own family to look after others that Dad classed as “deadbeats”.  He rowed with his father and went off to join the Army.

From my knowledge of my father’s history, Harry Thomas came to Moree after being discharged from the A.I.F.  Dad joined the Army in Victoria, on the 21st December 1915, changing his name at this time to James Henry Thomas.  He was promoted to Corporal on 1.8.1916, then to Sergeant on 23.10.1916 and he was wounded in action somewhere in France, admitted to hospital with gunshot wounds to his shoulder.  He carried pieces of shrapnel  in two places close to his spine throughout his life – the doctors in England agreeing to ‘leave well enough alone’.  He was hospitalized in England for a long time.  On discharge, medically unfit, from the Army on the 5th September 1917, Harry came to Moree in NorthWest N.S.W. and was granted an Army pension of 12/6d a week.  His commanding officer, a Mr. Phillips, had come to Harry in the English hospital and said when he got back to Australia to make his way to Moree, where there would always be a home for him.  Apparently Harry was hit by shrapnel while helping this senior officer into the trench.  At this time Harry was unable to work, his right arm being almost useless, so he filled in his day walking Mr. and Mrs. Phillips little child in his pram around the area and helping in the home wherever he could.  Eventually with perseverance, using a tennis ball, he was able to get some use back in his arm and hand, after which time he began ‘tinkering’ with motor vehicles in the backyard, moving on as time went by to a shed behind the old Cummins & Wallace building in Heber Street Moree.  He was building up a good little business when fire destroyed the whole building, vehicles and all.  Mr. Phillips, now a Bank Manager with the Bank of New South Wales, had confidence in Harry and urged him to purchase premises in that same street and open a garage – J.H. Thomas, General Engineer.  Harry was a handsome man, well built, with dark brown hair and blue eyes.  He attracted the attention of numerous young ladies, one of which was my mother Hilda May Jurd.  They married in Sydney on 2nd April 1927, spent their honeymoon touring the Canberra, Goulburn region.  My mother’s sister Beryl, lived in Goulburn with her husband Lachlan Madden, who was a C.M.L. Assurance Society employee.  Ross Harold Thomas was born on 24th February, 1928.  Meanwhile , the Depression years were really starting to bite into the economy.  My mother’s family, who had been ‘well-to-do’ landowners, were feeling the pinch together with everyone else in Moree, and most of Australia but Harry battled on.  He had in his employ two men, one was a mechanic, and another was a fitter and turner – he kept both men on through bad years, but when he discovered his mechanic was taking his customers to do backyard work he was forced to let him go.  My Dad and Mum had many very lean years but were able to battle on.  I was born on 3rd January, 1931 and named Valda Marie Thomas.

Life went on, hard, but happily for our little family.  My father was a good family man, very honorable and caring to Mum and he tried very hard to instill good principles in Ross and me.  I had been told by and Uncle that in his younger days, Dad had been a heavy drinker, but to my knowledge the only drinks he ever had was a light shandy at Christmas time.  He smoked a pipe interminable, always had a pipe sticking out of his mouth, not always alight, but it was there, like a dummy.  He had to work very hard to make ends meet in those days and customers were often very slow to pay, sometimes paying in kind rather than cash.  He didn't have much by way of recreation but one thing I can remember was that he used to run the old motor engine that the dog racing organizers used to pull the “hare” around the track so that the dogs would chase it.   He and Mum also played cards, 500 was the main game.  He also loved to listen to the cricket, and watch the games on Sunday, and in the winter I can remember he used to take us to the football and we could buy these beaut hit pies.  Sometimes we would go for picnics out to the Boolooroo Bridge where the river had a sandy bottom and beautiful willow trees that we could use the weeping branches to swing out into the river.  He used to help me with Mathematics homework when he found I was not able to understand the school work – by doing it his way the Sisters who taught me could see that I was not up to the rest of the class and from then on made sure that I was.

Mum was a fun loving person, but unfortunately she suffered with very bad asthma and eventually chronic bronchitis.  It seems to me she spent some time in hospital every year with one thing or another – one time she had a bowel fissure which required a very painful operation and another time she had numerous carbuncles.  Her asthma got so bad around the early 1940’s her doctor told Dad to take her away as he could do no more.  She was having a needle every two hours to try to relieve the asthma.  At one time in hospital, the family were called as she was thought to be dying – they were all around the bedside and must have given what was thought to be her last gasp, the Sister in charge said “she’s gone” – Auntie Eva grabbed a bottle of brandy that was on the bedside table and put it to Mum’s mouth – Mum gasped again at the shot of brandy and was back in the land of the living.  As this drama was taking place I was at school only about ten years old.  The Parish priest, Father O’Brien had been to the hospital to see Mum in this desperate state; he came back to the convent school and told the Sisters that he wanted everyone over to the church immediately where the whole school, Sisters and all, prayed all morning.  I’ve been a great believer in prayer ever since.  Mum eventually got through that episode and soon after we heard of a Dr. Robert Steiner, who was a refugee from Nazi Germany, a brilliant specialist from Austria.  Because he was German and it was wartime, he was supposed to be interned – however he was sent to the small tin mining town of Emmaville in Northern New South Wales to be the medical officer.  His specialty was Asthma, Arthritis and Duodenal ulcers.  By this time Dad was prepared to give anything a go, but being wartime, money was short, petrol was rationed and car tyres were just unavailable for private vehicles but people came to the rescue – car tyres were found, garages along the way were organized to provide petrol and off we went to Emmaville.  We were not the only people who had heard of Dr. Steiner, there were cars everywhere, and every patient was given either an eleven o’clock or two o’clock appointment so there was quite a waiting time.  We had also been found accommodation with someone’s nephew, the local butcher.  Mum was hospitalized for six weeks in the little hospital, at which time we could come back for her – this was the beginning of much better health for Mum, although we had to make numerous trips to Emmaville for follow up treatment, these trips took on more of a holiday for us as we found places to stay and made friends there over the next two years.  Mum loved the races and was a very good mixer.  She got on well with most people, was very ladylike and entertaining.  She was and excellent mother to Ross and me, kind and generous, though not prepared to take much nonsense.    At age 58 Dad had a ‘bad turn’, after which his doctor advised him to straighten out his affairs, he would not be able to work again.  We were devastated at this news, but Dad and Mum thought carefully about what they should do – it was decided that they go to Sydney to see what they could find and put a roof over our heads and bring in a little money for Mum to carry on – she was unable to work, being a severe asthmatic.

The roof over our heads turned out to be a ‘residential’ in Kings Cross.  Living in Kings Cross was quite a revelation to us all, however we got used to the idea and made quite a good life in Sydney.  Within two years dad was dead.  Nowadays the surgeons just put new valves or tubes in to improve the circulation but Dad wasn’t so lucky.  Neither my brother Ross nor I ever knew that my father had changed his name until after Dad had died at which time we were presented with name changing documents to sign.  We asked what this was all about but didn’t get much of an answer and didn’t bother anymore about it.   I felt that whatever it was Dad’s business and that was that.  Mum lived until she was 74 years, outlasting Dad, the strong one, by many years.  I think after Dad died she actually became stronger.