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Courtesy of - Ballarat & District in the Great War's Post (Facebook)

Telling a story is not always easy – sometimes the details are so well hidden that it is difficult to be completely sure of cause and effect, direction and destination. But the information that is available makes for a fascinating tale…

When Samuel Walter Howells was born, his family was well established at Sebastopol. His parents, Samuel Howells and Elizabeth Walters had already welcomed seven children before Sam’s birth in August 1889.

Sam’s ancestry was pure Welsh, with both parents born in Wales. His father’s family came from the small village of Nantyglo (Welsh: Nant y glo) in the ancient parish of Aberystruth in Monmouthshire, while the Walters family came from various villages and towns in Glamorganshire. His maternal grandparents, Griffith Walters and Mary Lewis, were married at the hilltop church of St Tudor in Mynyddislwyn.

In Welsh, Nantyglo literally means brook of coal and, as it suggests, it was a mining community, situated within the South Wales Valleys. The village would later become famous for being the birthplace of the most decorated Welsh non-commissioned officer, Jack Williams VC.

Indeed, coal mining was a feature in both lines of Sam’s immediate ancestry, and education was sparse – when his paternal grandparents, John Howells and Ann Williams, married in 1848, neither could read or write. John Howells was a coal miner, although his father, Oliver Howells, was a farmer of 28-acres.
Leaving centuries of history behind them, the two families migrated to Australia in search of new beginnings. Samuel Howells and Elizabeth Walters were just small children at the time.

After marrying on 26 September 1873, Samuel and Elizabeth made their home in Sebastopol. John and Ann Howells lived nearby at Cobblers Lead.

The year of Sam’s birth began tragically for the family: the death of Samuel’s 61-year-old mother on 10 January was followed just six days later by the death of their youngest child, Philip Francis. Described as ‘a promising little boy’ whose ‘quaint demeanour’ attracted ‘much attention,’ the three-year-old died from diphtheria.

Cases of the dreaded disease were being reported all around the district at the time and there was also an outbreak of typhoid in Ballarat. The authorities were naturally concerned and households were ordered to report any known cases by telegraph or letter (free of charge). Failure to do so attracted a fine of £20.

Philip’s death cast an understandable gloom over the home and Sam’s subsequent birth would have stirred mixed feelings. The fragility of life was understood and respected, and the small baby was watched over carefully. Fortunately, Sam flourished.

Amongst his earliest life experiences was at the Zion Welsh Independent Church in Albert Street. The church, which began in the small homes of William Davies, at Cobblers, and Mr D. Davies, of Sebastopol, had quickly outgrown these small meetings and the first chapel was consecrated in 1861. Once again, the congregation became too large for its home and the church was moved to larger premises on the corner of Walker and Beverin Streets. The Howells and Walters families were amongst the worshippers at the chapel.

Music, as with most Welsh families, was an important part of the Howells home. Sam’s older sister, Mary Ann, would often be called upon to sing solos at chapel.
It appears that Samuel Howells worked at the South Star Company’s gold mine in
Sebastopol. The company had three shafts, and was situated on open ground bordered by Albert, Vickers, Bala, and Yarrowee streets. When two miners, William Taylor and William John Chappell, were suffocated by foul air in the mine on 14 May 1897, Samuel acted as pall-bearer during the funeral.

The Howells children (except for the youngest, Lily) all began their education at the
Sebastopol State School. Sam was still in middle school when the family moved to Western Australia. Like so many Ballarat and district men, Samuel Howells had seen the opening of the Western Australian goldfields around Kalgoorlie as an opportunity to break free of the hardships of the economic depression of the 1890’s. By 1903, the family was living at Broad Arrow about 25-miles north of Kalgoorlie. Elizabeth began operating dining rooms in Forrest Street, and the youngest children were enrolled in the local school.

Broad Arrow was the site of the first Western Australian gold discovery in 1893, and the initial influx of miners saw the population swell to 15,000. The new town grew quickly with all the expected amenities springing up overnight. But it was a hard, unforgiving place. Although businesses supplied their needs, the whole area was surrounded by desert and the early promise of riches gradually petered out. As the gold being extracted from the deep lead shafts rapidly began to decline, so, too, did the population.

Diminishing prospects made for an unstable future and it seems that this may have played a part in what was to be a horrifying event in Sam Howell’s young life.
The 16 January 1907 began much as any other day. Samuel and Elizabeth had risen early and Samuel had lit the fire. The pair had a cup of tea together before he headed off to work.

Around 8:15am a blast was heard near the rear of the Municipal Hall. On investigating, people found a body slumped on the ground with catastrophic injuries to the man’s head. It was quickly ascertained that the body was that of Samuel Howells. From a brief examination it was concluded that he had placed a detonator and a plug of dynamite either in his mouth or close to his head and set off the charge. It takes little imagination to picture the scene that confronted those who
discovered the remains.

For Elizabeth and the children there remained many unanswered questions – Samuel had been in his ‘usual health and spirits’ that morning and they could not account for his actions. The funeral was held two days later, with the body removed from the local hospital to the Broad Arrow Cemetery for burial. There was no extra money for the grave to be marked and exact location was eventually lost.
By 1911, the family had moved to Cheetham Street in Kalgoorlie, where Elizabeth’s second son, John William Howells, established a general store and grocery business. His younger brothers all joined him in the trade and Sam would proudly refer to himself as a “master grocer.”

Compared to Broad Arrow, Kalgoorlie was a veritable metropolis. The Howells family even dabbled in horseracing with the Kalgoorlie-Boulder Trotting Club – one of their horses being appropriately named Grocer Boy.
Then, like a slashing sword, war changed everything.

Nationalistic fervour was a strong prompt for substantial enlistment across the country. However, high unemployment was also a mitigating factor. The army offered a pay rate of six-shillings a day (the same as the average wage), plus food, clothing and accommodation, all making an excellent incentive. This quickly earned members of the AIF the soubriquet of the “six-bob a day tourists.”

Sam’s older brother, Lew, was the first of the Howells to enlist – he underwent his medical at Kalgoorlie on 11 November 1914, and completed the enlistment process at Helena Vale the following day. He sailed for Egypt with reinforcements to the 11th Infantry Battalion.

After landing at Gallipoli at 4:30am on 25 April 1915, Lew had some interesting adventures and narrow scrapes. He wrote the following letter to his mother from the No3 Australian Auxiliary Hospital at Heliopolis on 21 September where he was recovering from enteritis.

‘…I have plenty of time now to write and let you know how I have been getting on since I left good old Australia. I can tell you that I have had it pretty warm over here, and I don’t think any of us will be sorry when the war is over, and we are back home again.

We had a good trip over. We got off at the Suez and caught a train, and that night were in Cairo, then on to Ab [Abbassia], and camped for a week, when 50 of us were sent to Mena, and after being there for a week, we left at 2 o’clock on Easter Monday for Alexandria, and caught the boat. We did not know where we were going until the boat pulled up at Lemnos Island, where we left that boat and got on another called the Suffolk, and all the 11th Battalion was on it.

We caught up to the first lot which left Australia. They were all anxiously waiting for the time when we would be landing at the Dardanelles. They had been at Lemnos for about six weeks, and were getting tired of being on the boat so long. I soon went around and found Jack Hoffman, Bill Thirloway, Jack Williams, and a lot more Kalgoorlie boys that I knew. They were all pleased to see us, as it was only about six weeks since we left Perth. They were all anxious to know how their people were, and we gave them all the news we could. Jack and Bill looked after me real well, and I had tea with them that night. They made me a bunk down where they were, so I was all right.

It was April 9 when we joined the 11th Battalion at Lemnos, and on the 24th when we left for the Dardanelles. We were told where we were going, and as well as they could, what the landing would be like. We were told that we were going in big ships, but they were afraid that a little pinnace boat would be large enough to bring back what was left of us, so you can see they knew it would be a pretty solid job we were taking on, and so it was, against shells, machine-guns, and rifle fire, in open boats and on an open beach; but we got there, and stayed, too. We would never have got there but for the navy, and plenty of pluck, too.

When we reached there the boys never thought of turning back, but straight up the hills we went, with fixed bayonets, after the Turks.

It was about a week after when I came back to the beach - as we were sent down for our packs which we left behind - and one would not know it again, as it was quite a busy little port by then. To see them landing food, donkeys, guns, etc., you would have thought that we had been there for years. It was marvellous, with hundreds of donkeys loaded up with munitions and food for the firing line, and everything seemed to be going on like a gold rush, instead of war. Nobody seemed to be afraid. There were hundreds of killed and wounded everywhere, but we soon got used to it, and when we got dug in and made our place pretty safe, we gave the Turks all they wanted. We were shooting them down day and night like sheep, and our shoulders were quite bruised with the rifles. We were glad when we got a spell.
The navy did great work. We could see their shells bursting right in among the Turks, and knocking them down like skittles, and we used to give a cheer when we saw them getting bowled over. We could see the Turks getting their guns into position, and would start to fire upon us, but they would not last long, as our guns were too good for them, and would blow the Turks and their guns kite-high, and that would be the end of them there.

It was a good job when they got the eight hours off to bury their dead, as they were lying thick everywhere, and the smell was something terrible. We buried just on 3000 that day, and do not know how many the Turks buried, but there must have been thousands, as they were going hard all day. It was rather amusing when, on top of it all; they came and exchanged cigarettes and tobacco with us, and at half-past 4 o’clock that afternoon we were at it again trying, to knock one another’s heads off. This is a funny world.

I have put in 16 weeks throwing bombs and shooting at them, but they have not got me yet. I have been very lucky so far. We had a big go on July 31 when we took their trench at Tasmania Post. We had forty-two killed and ninety-six wounded while taking it but we shot and bayoneted three times as many Turks. That night I got a bullet through my water bottle, so it was a pretty close go with me. Tom Edwards got a bayonet wound in his leg, but I heard he is getting on all right. I read an account in the paper about taking the trench, and it made me laugh. It said that the Australians and New Zealanders took it, but it was the 11th battalion, and we are all West Australians. There was not a New Zealander within a mile of us, and it was the first trench to be taken and held by Australians, so the W.A. boys are not too bad.

Three days later the Turks tried hard to take it back but they had no chance, although we lost a lot of men. They sneaked up in the night, and at day break tried to bomb us out. They sent them over like a shower of rain and killed six of our poor chaps alongside of me, and the rest had gone out wounded bar a chap named Jenkins; so the two of us kept on shooting as hard as we could go. They were coming up the hill like rabbits. Jenkins kept on shooting, and I got the bombs to work on them. They were only about six yards off then, and I gave them some hurry-up with the bombs. They are the things that you get five or six with every shot when they are thick. I threw all the bombs I could find, and Jenkie kept knocking them out with the rifle, and, my word, he put up a great fight. There a bomb burst along side of us and a piece flew into his eye, and it knocked my rifle to pieces, but it never stopped us.

There were no more bombs left, so I ran out to see if I could get some more. I met Captain Herring and told him that we had no more, and that there were only the two of us left in that part of the trench, so he said that the best thing to do was to get out of it, but just then a lot of our chaps came in to give us a hand, so you can bet I was not sorry. When we did get out a lot of my mates, who knew us, said, “You two did good work to hold that part of the trench,” and they shook hands with us and said that our names had been taken, and that we were going to be recommended for a D.C.M., but I have not heard any more about it, as Captain Herring got wounded in the knee and was sent away that day, but I don’t care so long as I get back home again all right.

I took ill a week later, and have been in the hospital here for six weeks, but am almost well and only a bit weak now. I will soon get over that…’
Lew was convinced that he was leading a charmed life – he claimed to have escaped without a scratch after having five rifles shattered in his hands by shellfire and bombs during those early months at ANZAC.

Sam Howells followed his brother’s lead on 19 June 1915. Like, Lew, Sam’s medical was conducted at Kalgoorlie. Physically, other than their height – Sam, at 5-feet 9-inches, was taller by nearly five-inches – the pair were quite similar. They both weighed 147-pounds and had comparable chest measurements, with Sam measuring at 35-inches and Lew slightly larger. Although they both had dark brown hair, Sam had brown eyes, while Lew’s were grey, but it was clear at a glance that they were brothers.

Having successfully passed his medical, Sam caught the train into Perth and joined other recruits at the Blackboy Hill Camp. He signed his oath of service on 21 June and was immediately posted to the 8th reinforcements for the 16th Infantry Battalion, with the regimental number of 2666. Delays in embarkation resulted in Sam being moved through the subsequent reinforcements and his number was ultimately changed to 3116.

Unlike Lew, who had been a member of the local rifle club, Sam stated that he had no prior military training. This may have been the reason for the delaying his departure. He also made a notable allotment of three-fifths of his pay to the support of his widowed mother.

Finally, on 13 October, Sam boarded the troopship Themistocles at Fremantle and he, too, sailed for Egypt.

The 16th Battalion was stationed at Ismailia when Sam was added to their number on 5 February 1916. A brief bout of influenza saw him hospitalised at Tel-el-Kebir two weeks later, but only interrupted his training for a matter of days and he was discharged to his unit on 26 February.

With the division and expansion of the AIF, Sam Howells found himself transferred to the newly raised 48th Battalion at Tel-el-Kebir on 3 March. The 48th Battalion (made up largely of veterans from the 16th Battalion) was famous as the “Joan of Arc Battalion.” Several members of the Leane family from Prospect in South Australia served in its ranks, including Commanding Officer, Lieutenant- Colonel Raymond Lionel Leane (later Brigadier-General Sir Raymond Leane), his younger brother, Benjamin Bennett Leane, who was the unit’s adjutant, and several nephews. The humour behind the battalion’s name was particularly clever – it was “made of all Leanes” (Maid of Orleans).

Whilst Lew headed to England, Sam was soon on his way to France. They sailed from Alexandria at 9am on 3 June. The weather for the trip was excellent and the men were in good health, although the transport was rather overcrowded. Indeed, the biggest problem during the voyage was not German submarines, but the quality of the potatoes!

They reached Marseilles at 4:30pm on 8 June, leaving the following day by train for Hazebrouck in the north.

Sam’s first experience of full-scale battle on the Western Front came at Pozières. The 48th Battalion reached Albert on 1 August and moved from Sausage Valley on 5 August to take over positions at the Old German 1 and Old German 2 lines. Their task was to defend ground captured during the earlier attacks made by the Australian 2nd Division. During their first deployment, the 48th endured the heaviest artillery barrage experienced by Australian troops – the men who experienced the onslaught wrote of the ferocity, describing it as the ‘lid being left off hell.’

A copy of a special order by General Karl von Bülow taken from a German prisoner conveyed the value of the position won by the Australians.
‘…At any price the POZIÈRES PLATEAU (HILL 60) must be recovered, for it remained in the hands of the British, it would give them an important advantage.
Attacks will be made by successive waves 80 yards apart. Troops which first reach the Plateau must hold on until reinforced, whatever their losses. Any Officers or men who fails to resist to the death on the ground won will be immediately Court Martialled…’

The bombardment severely depleted the defending troops and was quickly followed by an intense infantry attack by the enemy. A call for retaliation saw the Australian artillery cause significant casualties in the succeeding waves of German infantry and the attack was finally ‘broken up and abandoned.’

Special praise was paid to the 48th Battalion’s medical section for their ‘fearlessness and untiring zeal,’ especially the stretcher-bearers who worked much of the time in the open and under heavy fire and successfully brought in all the wounded. As a stretcher-bearer, Sam Howells had worked under unimaginable conditions. It was hardly surprising when he was admitted to the 1st Advanced Rest Station the following day suffering from shellshock. He recovered quickly and was discharged
to duty just five days later.

Before the end of the month, Sam was back at Pozières. This tour consisted of a brief few days in front of Mouquet Farm. He didn’t make it right through – an accident on 1 September, left him with cuts and bruises. After being treated at the 3rd (and then 1st ) Canadian Field Ambulances, he was admitted to the 18th General Hospital at Camiers on 6 September. He was soon cleared to be transferred to a convalescent depot.

Around the same time, Elizabeth Howells received a telegram informing her that Sam had been wounded. The delay meant that she had no way of knowing that he had already recovered and been hurt again. When there was no follow-up from Base Records, the family sent an urgent telegram asking ‘State nature private S W Howells wounds.’ The reply was brief – ‘…nature wound Private Howells not known here not stated serious absence further reports assume progressing favourably…’
Meanwhile, Sam had been discharged to the 4th Australian Divisional Base Depot at Étaples. It seems that the freedom of camp life went to his head, and when he was found drunk in camp on 12 October, the commander of the Base dealt with him swiftly. Although he was awarded 14-days Field Punishment No2, his orders to return to his battalion came through on 14 October. When he reached the forward area, the 48th was holding the line at Vierstraat.

Shortly after a letter from Private H. H. Ratcliffe, of Beria, reached Australia.
‘…I met Sam Howells (a Kalgoorlie boy) last week. He looks real well. You can guess we had a long yarn. He told me that he got a slight wound in the shoulder, but was only three days in hospital…’

On 17 February 1917, Sam was sent to the 12th Australian Field Ambulance suffering from a sexually transmitted disease. He was admitted to the 51st General Hospital at Étaples, a specialist venereal disease facility.

It seems that Sam wasn’t enjoying the treatment and, after four days in hospital, he
absconded. He was apprehended just over two-hours later and charged with being absent without leave. The punishment was immediate and harsh – he was kept in close confinement for two weeks.

Despite his brush with authority, Sam again recovered quickly and was discharged to the Base Depot on 18 March. However, he did not rejoin the 48th (then at Millencourt on the Somme) until the end of April.

It was to be a tough year for the 48th Battalion – the men had just fought through the First Battle of Bullecourt (11 April), but worse was to come at Passchendaele.
During the initial “bite and hold” battles of Third Ypres, the AIF had made some of the most significant gains in the war. Then the weather turned against them. The 48th was thrown into the line on 12 November, by which time the shattered ground had turned into the hellish conditions that would become synonymous with Passchendaele. Before they reached the jumping-off tape, the battalion had suffered over 80 casualties. The heavy casualties continued during the operation, with 359 men killed, wounded, or missing. Even the commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Leane, was not safe from the carnage – he was evacuated with severe shrapnel wounds to his left thigh and hand.

Throughout that long day, Sam Howells worked tirelessly in the most extreme conditions. While it is not known how many trips he made through the mud, nor how many men he carried to safety, his devotion did not go unnoticed. Lieutenant-Colonel Arthur Deeble (q.v.) recommended the young stretcher-bearer for the Belgian Croix de Guerre for his devotion to duty, also noting ‘his conduct on this occasion as in all actions his Unit has taken part in, in Flanders and France, has set a fine example of soldierly endurance.’

As a small reward for his hard work, Sam was granted an extended leave pass to England over Christmas. After nearly three weeks out of the line, Sam returned to the 48th on 28 December to learn that he had been appointed to the rank of lance-corporal during his absence.

On 2 February 1918, it was announced that the Belgian Croix de Guerre had been conferred on Sam Howells by His Majesty, the King of the Belgians. The news was greeted with pride in Western Australia. When he wrote to his mother, Sam included a piece of the ribbon that had been sewn to his uniform and mentioned that General William Birdwood was to present him with the medal. Elizabeth Howells was, at the time, awaiting the arrival of her other soldier son, who was returning to Australia. Lew Howells had had a patchy career with the AIF since his time at Gallipoli. Reports in the newspapers claimed he was being invalided home due to being ‘wounded at Ypres.’ The truth was far less romantic – he had been diagnosed with flat feet, curtailing his effectiveness as an operational soldier.

In April 1918, the 48th Battalion was positioned in the Albert Sector and soon found itself facing the onslaught the German Spring Offensive. The enemy attacked strongly on 5 April and broke through on the 12th Brigade’s right, making the position of the 48th untenable. Even in withdrawal, men of the 48th were ‘still fighting grandly,’ and there were acts of extraordinary bravery that enabled them to reach and hold a new position with a frontage of 800-yards.

Once again, Sam Howells carried out his duties, working hard to bring in the wounded. However, on this occasion, he was to fall victim himself. A piece of jagged shrapnel hit him in the left elbow, shattering the humerus and radius.
It took over a day for him to reach the 1st Canadian General Hospital at Étaples and nearly a week before he was evacuated to England. On 13 April, Sam was admitted to the City of London Hospital in Clapton.

After his injuries were stabilised, Sam was transferred to the 1st Australian Auxiliary Hospital at Harefield Park on 29 April. It was clear, however, that his time with the AIF was at an end. He was granted a furlough, before being ordered to report to the No2 Command Depot at Weymouth on 1 July. Three weeks later, he boarded the transport Boonah to return to Australia for discharge.

The Boonah reached Fremantle on 11 September, and shortly after, Sam Howells was interviewed by a local journalist known as “Billy Khan,” for Hannans Happenings, a column that appeared in the Kalgoorlie Sun. Headed “Breezy Bits and Random Rantings,” the journalist gave a colourful version of Sam’s adventures.

‘…Returned from the front last Wednesday, Sam Howells, one of several goldfields brothers. Sam is a winner of the Belgian Croix de Guerre, and has the honour of being the first to bring this decoration to the goldfields. He was recommended for it no less than five times, but for some reason or other — you know what Australians are — he was not invested. In his three years of service, Sam has seen some strenuous fighting and was wounded several times. A piece of shrapnel made a big hole in his arm hear the elbow, and after sustaining the wound he had to walk five miles to a dressing station, up to and over his knees in mud and water. There was some talk of amputating the limb, but it did not go any further than that. A big piece of flesh was taken from his leg and grafted on to the arm. Now it is fairly right.
He says the Australians are as much hated and feared by the German as they
are admired and loved by the English — and that is saying a good deal…’
Of course, allowing for a degree of jingoistic hyperbole, the piece probably revealed kernels of truth.

Although there is no evidence Sam had been recommended for the Croix de Guerre previously, his version of the trip back to a dressing station and the subsequent treatment rings true and provides details not recorded anywhere else.
However, when Sam reached Kalgoorlie, there was not the expected welcome and a member of the public took umbrage with this lack of recognition, writing to the Editor of the Kalgoorlie Miner under the pen-name of “Honour to Whom Honour is Due.”

‘…Sir,— I see by the ‘Miner’ that our V. C. heroes are returning to Kalgoorlie. Permit me to suggest that these men who have won the highest honour that can be conferred upon any man, by the King, for gallantry in the face of the enemy get a hearty reception on their arrival. As the king has thought fit to honour them personally, I would suggest that the mayor and councillors meet them on their
arrival and give them a welcome home. When Colonel Lyon Johnston and Major Davies and other officers arrived they were given a civic reception; when Father Fahey arrived our worthy mayor despatched a wire of congratulation. Such recognition all loyal citizens were pleased to see extended to them.

Now, sir, there arrived in our midst quite recently one of Australia’s most gallant sons, a Kalgoorlie boy, who has been reared on the goldfields. After three and a half years of the heaviest and bloodiest fighting in Belgium, the highest honour that can be conferred upon any man was conferred upon him by the King of the Belgians, the Croix de Guerre. The person referred to is Corporal Sam Howells. This gallant young hero was four times recommended for the highest honour that the British Empire can confer on her sons, but he missed. On the last occasion he was recommended by the gallant Lieut.-Col. Lean, and he was awarded the Belgian V.C. Well, sir, this goldfields hero arrived at Kalgoorlie railway station, and there was no one to extend the hand of welcome except his relations, but I hope it is not too late to give Sam a welcome, and I would suggest that a concert and dance be held in the Town Hall in his honour, the proceeds to go to the Red Cross or Patriotic Funds. If any of our hero’s admirers would like to get the ball rolling, I would be pleased to donate two guineas towards expenses. - Yours, etc.,

HONOUR TO WHOM HONOUR IS DUE…’
Needless to say, the letter ruffled a few feathers and it was quickly pointed out that the arrival of Sam Howells had not been made known. He had been invited to the fortnightly Sunday gathering of the Municipal Council at the Kalgoorlie Town Hall, but ‘the young soldier modestly refrained from attendance thereat.’
Sam’s elbow continued to cause him trouble and, in October he was ‘compelled to go to the Base Hospital for treatment.’ He was finally discharged from the AIF on 10 April 1919.

From this point, Sam returned to a life of relative obscurity. He tried his hand at farming, taking up a soldier settlement allotment at Badjaling in the Western Australia Wheatbelt about 96-miles from Perth.

The illness and early death of Lew Howells on 11 May 1928 was a deep shock for the entire Howells family. Sadly, his grave in Perth’s Karrakatta Cemetery was not marked and nothing shows that an original ANZAC is buried there.

By the early 1930’s, Sam had relinquished his property and was living at the small town of Wyee in New South Wales. The town was situated near the main road between Sydney and Newcastle and had a railway station that opened in 1892. Sam was working as a fettler, dealing with repairs and maintenance on the local railway.

A visit to Tighes Hill on 23 May 1931, saw Sam have a particularly good time – think three sheets to the wind or having a skinful! He made the mistake of swearing in conversation with a friend, which was overheard by a Constable Harris, who was standing nearby. As a result, Sam was summoned to the Newcastle Police Court to answer a charge of using indecent language. His response to the charge appeared disarming – “I suppose I had better plead guilty. I was so drunk, I don’t remember
anything about it.” The charm did not work and he was fined a pound or, in default, two days’ imprisonment.

In 1933, Sam had moved on to Yass Junction, a railway station on the main Southern Line in New South Wales, less than a mile and a half from the centre of Yass on the edge of the Southern Tablelands.

Continuing to follow work on the railways, Sam lived briefly in North Sydney.
Whilst many members of the 1st AIF volunteered for service in the Second World War, the damage to Sam’s elbow precluded him from military duty. By this time he had moved to Wickham to live with his younger brother, William, and his sister-in-law, Eliza. Wickham (supposedly a misspelling of Whickham in Newcastle-on-Tyne) was a part of the Newcastle-Maitland line and Sam continued working for the railways as a fettler.

The railways could be a dangerous business and Sam was lucky to avoid serious injury when he was caught between a crane and a ladder whilst hooking up cars at the Carrington railway yards on 29 January 1948. He was taken by ambulance to the Newcastle Hospital for treatment to abrasions on his right thigh and elbow.
Although Sam never married, he did have a special person in his life. Louisa Herbert, who lived down the street from the Howells in Throsby Street, had been widowed many years earlier. Sam described her as his ‘loving friend.
After Louisa died at the Royal Newcastle Hospital on 10 May 1950, it appears that Sam left Wickham.

His search for obscurity left no further trail. He died at Randwick on 13 August 1970, and was cremated at the Northern Suburbs Crematorium. A plaque on the crematorium wall bears no military service details and the bravery that earned him the Croix de Guerre was completely forgotten.