Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

Son of Frederick and Fanny GROOM, "Lorriane", Herries Street, Toowoomba, Queensland

'Lit.' Groom.
JOURNALIST AND SOLDIER.
We called him 'little Lit.' in the office —that is, in the days when I first remember him as a junior in the 'Chronicle' office. We called him that to distinguish him from his uncle, the  Hon. Littleton Groom, for to his friends on the Downs — and they number many thousands — their Federal member is still 'Lit.' 'Little Lit.' was quite a small chap in those days—  only eight or nine years ago — a slight boy, with big eyes and crisp, curly hair — just the average nice boy, with not very much to say, but with a keen sense of fun and a  personality of his own, which was rather remarkable in a boy with such quiet ways.
It would be impossible for one who had ever been associated with the 'Chronicle' office and the members of the Groom family, who control it, to ever forget their consistent  kindness and courtesy; but during several years' absence from Toowoomba the memory of this curly headed boy, his soft voice and gentle ways, his ever-ready service, was one  of my pleasantest memories.
On my return to the Downs my first visit was paid to the 'Chronicle' office, where I asked for the editor. The editor was not in, but the sub-editor was; and seated in the sub-editor's chair I found my little friend of former years, no longer 'little Lit.,' but grown out of all recognition except that he still had the same curly, brown hair, his eyes the same
twinkling, kindly smile. And then a few short months had gone by, when I - met a stalwart soldier in khaki. I knew, of course, that he would want to go. He had come of a family who since the beginning of things in Australia have taken their part in the affairs of the nation. He said as much to me when he asked me to take over a small commission he had  from a Sydney paper. 'I have to get into camp, and I have not time to do it,' he said. I don't believe that 'Lit.' Groom wanted to leave his home and his people, his work and his  sport, any more than any other healthy, normal young man wants 'to; but he saw his duty clear and straight before him, and there was nothing else possible for him. He heard the call, and answered — the call of England, the 'little grey mother,' and with thousands of her sons went hurrying across the sea to her aid. And now comes the message, 'Killed  in action,' the dreaded message which has killed the joy in the hearts of thousands of women since the war began.
To those who loved him best I would say, in the beautiful words of J. R. Lowell : —
'I, with uncovered head, -
Salute the sacred dead,
Who went and who return not: say
not so! ' ? . ;
Virtue treads paths that end not in the
gravis —
No ban of endless night, exiles the brave;.
Arid to the saner mind
We rather seem the dead that stayed
behind.' ,
E.G.H.