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Australia

From Ballarat & District in the Great War

It is easy to imagine that if Les Primrose was alive today, he would be a hero to the whole country for a variety of reasons. He had it all: good looks, intelligence, exceptional sporting ability, and, dressed in the dashing uniform of the country’s air force, he would be a young man many would laud. Instead, he was born at a time where young men became almost expendable in the most cataclysmic war the world has ever seen.

The Primrose family had already established a long connection with Victoria by the time Leslie John Primrose was born on 14 May 1890. His great-grandfather, Edinburgh-born John Archibald Brown Primrose, arrived with his wife and children in Port Phillip Bay on 22 October 1841. Les was the only son of John William Primrose and Katherine Ellen “Kate” Dent – and one of just four children born to the couple. All the children were born in Ballarat East, where their father worked as a guard on the Victorian Railways.

When Les was just a boy, the family moved to Waubra, north-west of Ballarat, with the railway transporting loads of chaff and oaten hay from the local mill. The three surviving Primrose children were all educated at the Waubra State School, where Les and his younger sister, Retta, did particularly well.

From a very early age, Les showed outstanding promise both scholastically and on the sporting field, where he captained the school cricket team. At a concert and ball held in the local Mechanics Institute on 24 May 1906 in aid of the Waubra State School prize fund, Les received the prize of Most Popular Boy. His little sister, Retta, tied for the girls’ prize with her classmate, Nellie O’Farrell.

When the school prize night was held the following year, Les was presented with a gold medal for his achievements with the cricket team. That same year he was enrolled as one of the first students at the Ballarat Continuation School – soon to be known as Ballarat High. Les’ sporting abilities once again came to the fore whilst he was at the High School – this time in Australian Rules Football, and he captained the school team during his time there.

At the end of 1908, Les began his career with the Education Department of Victoria when he became a junior teacher at the Mount Pleasant State School. He also continued his studies by enrolling at the Ballarat School of Mines in 1909, where he studied both drawing and geometry. Then, in March 1910, it was announced that he had passed the Junior Public Service Examination.

While he was actively pursuing his career, Les also found time for his numerous sporting interests. He joined the Golden Point Football Club and was one of team who lifted the Ballarat Football League trophy against Imperials in 1910. Summer months were spent on the district athletics tracks, where Les enjoyed considerable success winning several Sheffield handicap races (over 220 yards) and high-jumps around the area.

In 1911, Les entered the Teacher’s Training College, which was under the auspices of the University of Melbourne. While studying, Les played with the University Football Club in the Victorian Football League. ‘A speedy, clever winger,’ Les was destined to play at the highest level. He played 16 games with “the Students” during the 1912 and 1913 seasons.

‘…His surname was an obvious magnet for floral puns and one football writer suggested Primrose was “a blooming little flower on the wing.”…’

To supplement his studies, Les taught at the Burwood Boys’ Training Home. In September 1912 it was announced that he had passed his Diploma of Education. He would also begin studying for a Bachelor of Arts degree.

Essentially, Les was forced to abandon his VFL career after graduating from university and being posted to the Hamilton Higher Elementary School. However, that did not stop him playing. He joined the Hamilton Caledonian Football Club, where he went on to win another gold medal – this time as the “most unselfish/useful player in the competition.” Certainly, having played at the sport’s highest level, Les would have been a natural standout.

Following a brief time in Hamilton, Les was appointed to the staff of the Bendigo Technical School as a science master. He maintained his studies for the Bachelor of Arts degree part-time, and naturally continued to play football – this time with the Bendigo City Football Club.

Les was still living in Bendigo when he enlisted there on 12 July 1915. The 25-year-old was almost physically perfect by AIF standards – he was 5-feet 10-inches tall, with a 35 to 37-inch chest and weighed exactly 10-stone. His dark-haired good looks were later compared to that of a film star – it’s just a pity the camera could not capture his dark blue eyes and fresh complexion.

With four years military training with Ballarat’s Old 7th Regiment, Les was the ideal recruit. He was immediately passed fit and went into camp on 8 August.

It wasn’t long before Les was earmarked for a leadership role. He attended Sergeant’s School from 16 to 25 October, and was promoted to the rank of sergeant with B Company of the 10th Infantry Battalion in camp at Ascot Vale.

A transfer to Ballarat at the end of March 1916, gave Les a chance to spend time with his family.

Then, on 1 June 1916, Les received his commission, but there was still a delay in sending him overseas and he continued to train with depot battalions in Melbourne.

A transfer to the Australian Flying Corps towards the end of 1916 indicated where Les’ future lay. He embarked from Melbourne onboard the troopship Omrah as a second-lieutenant, with C Flight of the 4th Squadron AFC, on 17 January 1917.

The voyage was an extremely long one and the Omrah didn’t dock at Plymouth until 27 March. Les immediately proceeded to the AFC Depot at Perham Downs on the Salisbury Plain.

For the next six months, Les was training constantly to become a top pilot – he spent time at Castle Bromwich on the outskirts of Birmingham with the 71st Squadron, On Command at the 41st Reserve Squadron at Doncaster for special instruction, and the 11th Training Squadron at Spittlegate, before returning to Castle Bromwich.

After finally earning his wings on 7 July, Les’ first job with the AFC was ferrying machines back and forth between England and France.

Then on 20 September, after having been posted to the 68th Squadron at Harlaxton, Les was flying through thick fog, when he crashed. His aircraft was destroyed and he was badly injured. When he was admitted to the 4th Northern General Hospital in Lincoln, Les was unconscious, had a fractured collarbone, a badly gashed lip, cuts to his face and significant bruising. He didn’t regain consciousness for two days.

While he was convalescing, Les was promoted to full lieutenant on 12 October. At a medical board three days later, he said that with the exception of some pain in his left shoulder, he was well. However, this was not the full story. Whilst his injuries had healed, Les was plagued by continuing headaches from the severe concussion.

A month of convalescence at spent in Dublin at the home of Lady Summer and at the Officers’ Convalescent Hospital at Cobham Hall, and Les was still suffering from headaches and dizziness. He was improving, but was still not fit for duty.

On 10 November, Les returned to the AFC Depot at Castle Bromwich. A medical board two days later found that, although his headaches had disappeared, Les was still not fit for duty.

Even after another month, and a further medical board, Les was still suffering from headaches, but only when flying at altitude. By this stage he was with the 30th Training Squadron at Fern Hill.

After over two and a half years, Les finally embarked for fully active duty on 20 February 1918. He joined the 2nd Squadron AFC the following day.

On 8 April 1918, Les wrote to his old teacher from Ballarat High School, Miss Jeannie Jobson, who was also headmistress of the school,

‘…For nearly three weeks our squadron has been fighting for its life, and during that time we have moved five times. Our job was to fight a rearguard action. We flew over the battlefield, some 60 miles in length, dropping bombs and lead on any suitable ground targets. It is rather interesting.

All the Australian divisions are down here now, and it does one good to see the 'Dinkums' again.
Last week I had a bit of luck, shooting down an Albatross scout, and also a two-seater artillery observational machine. Both went down in flames.

Our squadron has had a fair number of casualties, but that is only to be expected in a battle of such dimensions as this one.
I have heard from some old BHS pals of mine - Harold Ferguson, Jack Blaikie, and Bob Allan. They are all doing well at the time of writing…'

Les also asked Miss Jobson to give his 'regards to Mr 'Ref' (Principal Refshauge) and the staff of the High School.'

A further letter to Jeannie Jobson was published in the local newspapers using the headline, “BIRD MAN FROM BALLARAT”

‘…I am at present in a fighting scout squadron in France doing offensive patrols at 18,000 to 20,000 feet. We have the best scout machines on the Western front, and can soar to a higher altitude than the others. It is lovely to sit up aloft and watch all the others clown below you, and to be able to attack whenever one is inclined; while you pick your adversary from those below.

One patrol is over a long section of the line where the fighting has been, perhaps, more severe than most other places, so every day one is looking down upon a wonderfully interesting country which in time to come will become historic.

I will endeavour to give a short account of what patrol here is like: we set out in formation from the 'drome and climb, climb, climb, until the altitude shows about 15,000 feet. Our duty is to escort two-seater machines in the air. We now turn toward the line which can be seen distinctly.

The first town seen is Arras. It has borne the shelling of the Huns for the last couple of years, and is naturally in ruins. The cathedral— a wonderful structure— has nothing but its four walls standing, while there is not a whole window in any building in the town.

We creep closer to the line, and as one looks down from an altitude of 18,000 feet at the country pock-marked with shell holes and interwoven with thousands of trenches, he can scarcely credit the fact that millions of men are grovelling and burrowing down there.

One's view is sadly disturbed as "Archie" starts his usual welcome. 'Woof!' 'Woof!' come the reports and 'Crunch!' 'Crunch!' come the bursts — and one sees the black smoke from the explosions in mid-air. Perhaps the machine gets one very close, and it bumps up and down. It is now the pilot's place to manoeuvre, and he climbs, dives, "zooms," and sideslips to beat the keen aim of the gunner. It is not very often that a direct hit is obtained on a machine, but is it an unnerving sight to see a machine smashed in the air, and hurtle down into the depths to destruction.

Soon one is over the line, and as he patrols, he passes the towns of Lille, Lens, Lillers, Arras, Armentieres, Douai, and Cambrai, while Vimy Ridge is seen in the foreground.

Machines are everywhere and at all altitudes. It is most difficult to pick out the hostile machines from friendly planes, but at length a formation of scout machines with black crosses is seen below. The leader flies around to get the sun below him, and at his back, so that the hostile craft cannot see him approach. Then down, down, down, he goes in an almost vertical line, followed by his formation. In a dive of a couple of thousand feet these machines develop a speed of 300 miles an hour, and it is at this speed that the pilot bursts his guns into the hostile machines. If he misses his speed enables him to 'zoom' into safety, and again watch for an opportunity.

After a couple of hours patrol one gets very exhausted, and has difficulty in breathing, owing to the rareness of the atmosphere. The cold is intense, and exposed portions of the face get badly frost bitten. Tears run from the eyes and freeze as they run down the cheeks, so one is not sorry when it is over, and he can get back to the aerodrome, and a warmer temperature…’

I have run across many High school people over this side, and they seem to enjoy the life, such as it is, but like myself, I think they will all be jolly glad when the final bell is rung, and we have that big reunion at the best school of all…’

Les quickly earned a reputation for being a lethal adversary in a dogfight and was credited with a number of “kills”. F. M. Cutlack, who would later contribute the volume dedicated to the AFC of the Official History of Australia in the War 1914-1918, wrote several descriptions of the young pilot’s coolness and prowess under battle conditions.

On 4 June 1918, Les had been out on patrol and was involved during a stunt at Bresles near Beauvais. Air-Mechanic C. H. Peter, said that Les was “contour chasing” (flying very low) returning to the aerodrome. Apparently, his machine developed problems – it was not known if it had suffered damage during the fighting – and Les tried to make an emergency landing. Unable to control the aircraft, Les plunged into the hillside and was killed instantly. Two days later his body was buried at the Catenoy French National Cemetery near Clermont by an American padre. His uncle, Alf “Primmie” Primrose, who was an air-mechanic with the 2nd Squadron, attended the burial. A cross made from an aeroplane propeller was placed over the grave.

The commanding officer of the 2nd Squadron, Major Murray Jones, spoke very highly of Les’ service when he wrote to John Primrose.

‘…The death of your son cast a gloom over the whole squadron, and his loss as a flying officer will be extremely difficult to make good. He was a splendid pilot, and as a patrol leader could be trusted to do any work that came along, having as he did, confidence of everyone in the squadron.

His work all along has been splendid – in fact, nothing short of brilliant, and he would have been one of my next Flight Commanders. In the mess, he was very popular with the fellow officers, and was in every way a credit to the whole of the Australian Flying Corps.

Words are useless to express the feelings of the members of the squadron. His brother officers join me in sending their deepest sympathy to you and Mrs Primrose…’

The news of his death devastated Les’ parents. Both handled it in different ways – Kate Primrose wrote the French general, Paul Pau.

‘…Dear Sir, Will you please excuse me in taking the liberty of writing to you to thank the French people through you for their kindness to my late son Flight Lieut Primrose of the No2 Squadron, Australian Flying Corps, who was killed in action on June 4 1918. His machine came down at a place called Claremont (sic). He was buried with full military honours and had the French flag wrapped around his coffin. The burial service was read by a French and American Chaplain. The French made all arrangements.

Besides several of the French Infantry, the Major, Colonal (sic) & several officer, all the nurses & matron of the hospital, “Breuil-la-Sec,” and the sisters followed. The American Circus of the Flying Corps was represented by the Major & Colonal (sic) and Officers, also the Major and several officers from his own squadron, including his uncle who speaks in the highest praise of your people.

The nurses done everything possible that I his mother could wish done for him. I have had several letters from France all telling me how good & kind and thoughtful the French had been I can assure you their kindness will never be forgotten by his ever-thankful mother.

Several letters tell me the little cemetary (sic) is nearly full of French soldiers, but I understand my son was the first Australian buried there. Well, again thanking your people. Sincerely yours, K. Primrose…’

General Pau replied to Kate on 5 October 1918,

(translation) ‘…I must thank you very much for your letter in which you express your thanks and gratitude for the French people in the noble task of giving – what seemed to them I am sure a great privilege – full honours to a brave Australian hero.

I must congratulate, you, his mother, for having had such a son, and I am sure you will ever be proud of his memory.

My compatriots will ever look upon the graves of those who have fallen fighting side by side with the French, as a sacred trust, and will feel it their duty to protect such trusts.

I have taken note of all those who were present at his burial and also thank you for the cutting you have sent me.
With my best wishes, yours very sincerely…’

For John Primrose, the grief became overwhelming as he internalised the pain. Known for his cheerful personality and his charity work – he was noted for raising funds for the Ballarat Orphanage – it must have been extremely difficult to deal with such a tragic loss. In the lead-up to the first anniversary of his son’s death, John Primrose suffered a massive breakdown in his health – either a heart-attack or stroke. He lingered for several weeks, before he died on 12 June 1919. The ‘pent up grief’ was believed to have been the major cause behind his death. He was just 53 years-old.

The war gave rise to some remarkable circumstances, and not the least was a amazing incident shortly before Les Primrose’s death, which provided a poignant epilogue to his story.

While he was studying at Ballarat High School, Miss Jobson started an overseas correspondence scheme, and Les began writing to a boy in Alberta, Canada.

Fast forward several years, and Les was flying off the east coast of England when he observed another airman, seemingly in difficulties, descend hurriedly to the shore. Les, who followed the other aeroplane down in the hope of giving aid if needed, landing nearby.

After the usual pleasantries were observed, the pair proceeded to discuss each other. When Les found out that the Canadian pilot came from Alberta, he remarked, “1 used to write to a young fellow of your name in Alberta.” When the stunned exclamation, “What! are you Leslie Primrose, of Ballarat?” received an affirmative response, the Canadian responded, “Well, I'm your old correspondent.” Putting forward his hand the pair engaged in ‘a heartier handshake than usually marks a meeting of old friend's.’ As was concluded, ‘could any battlefield reunion be more romantic than the foregoing?’

Footnote: some years ago, whilst I was conducting my research in the Ballarat Library, the family of Les Primrose came in to see me. They had a portrait of the young man that had been kept in pristine condition all those years. Because there was no-one to pass the photograph on to, they insisted that I take it. It was one of the singular honours I have ever experienced. I had the portrait framed and, to this day, it still hangs on the wall in my home. Les Primrose will never be forgotten.