Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

A Tough Life

John’s parents, Henry and Louise Retallack died when he was about 14 years old. (Henry died in August of 1903 and Louise just three years later in 1906 with both being interred in the Bendigo Public Cemetery). John was born in 1889 but his enlistment papers suggest he was born in 1887.

He turned his hand to a number of manual jobs to earn his living. At one stage in 1908 John worked near Rochester on the Warangna-Rodney irrigation channel. Nick-named ‘Tyke’ because of his fondness for dogs, he was frequently accompanied by half-a-dozen mutts which continually followed him. At one stage it was feared that John had met with an accident at the Morning Star mine where two unidentified bodies were found. Ultimately, the local coroner dismissed this theory both because of the differing body sizes and more importantly, that John had been seen by a fellow irrigation worker at Rochester.

John’s life was not without incidence, appearing before the Bendigo courts for a fracas outside the Great Mountain Hotel. He claimed to be on his way home but had been asked to ‘shout’ a round of drinks, without knowing why he should. He was then struck by the insistent sailor so John felt he had to defend himself. Just two years later, John, then aged 22 and a miner, was again before the Bendigo Courts for what was determined to be a cowardly assault in a hotel. John had been called an "immigrant mongrel" by another patron in the hotel, but took his frustrations out on his drinking partner, David McLay. This resulted in John serving a sentence of a fortnight’s imprisonment.

Growing up in the gold mining town of Bendigo, regular work was not always consistently available so, as did so many young men of the time, John headed to Broken Hill in the hope of permanent employment as a miner in 1913. He remained there for two years. However, when WWI broke out, he was in the first batch of volunteers to enlist on the 24th August, 1914 to be part of the 10th Infantry Battalion with John becoming Private 535. Obviously, Broken Hill was the ideal place to recruit volunteers as there was much competition for jobs and the population was predominantly young men all competing for the jobs on offer.

The local ‘Barrier Miner’ newspaper reported extensively on Saturday 22nd August of the send-off given to the eighty men who had enlisted:

"Squad! Shun!" At 6.25 o'clock last night Sergeant Major Ransom shouted out the above order, and Broken Hill's volunteers for the Australian expeditionary force were on active service.

Prior to this the local military authorities had been busy throughout the day examining and making final selection of the men who were to leave by the express the same night. The A.M.C and Engineers contingents were drafted without much difficulty; it was known that 20 of the former and 43 of the latter were to go, and these were rapidly selected from the superfluity of volunteers who had enlisted in response to the call to arms. Anxiety reigned, however, at the headquarters of the 82nd infantry. The expected instructions as to the number to be sent away did not arrive on Thursday night. All day long the officers, in the street, at the drill halls, and at the headquarters in Carrington Chambers, were besieged by men, the eternal unalterable question being: "Are we going to-night? The officers' throats must have become husky by sunset with repeatedly uttering the reply: "Can't tell you yet, lads; no instructions."

But the long-hoped-for wire came at last- a few minutes before 6 o'clock last night- with instructions to "send all who are fit." It was too late, however to inform all the men and get them together in time to catch the express. A notice had been posted up outside the Post Office at a little after 6 o'clock stating that no Infantry would be sent away last night, and so, the volunteers had dispersed in search of a meal and a rest. A few, however, were sent along, including Light Horsemen the total was 13.

A little after 6 o'clock the Engineers' drill hall in Crystal street presented a busy appearance as Sergeant Major Ransom lined up his 43 men and gave them a few preliminary instructions. He paraded the squad, about 10 of whom were in uniforms, in two lines, and earnestly appealed to them to "play the game" on the journey down and not get up to any pranks or rough horseplay which would annoy other passengers on the train and give the squad a bad name right at the very outset of its active career. He then initiated the men into the mysteries of "form fours, "stand at ease," " 'shun," and other simple orders, all of which, within a few minutes, the men were able to perform rapidly and correctly. A short spell at "ease," and then came the first active service order: "Squad, 'shun Right turn. March!" The kettle-drums beat a smart "left, left, ta-ra-ta-ta-ra-ta-ta, left," and the men squared their shoulders and marched away four abreast via Sulphide street and Argent-street to Oxide-street, where they halted and stood at ease in front of the entrance to the Skating Rink.

In front of the Skating Rink a band, formed of instrumentalists from the Broken Hill, Broken Hill City, and the Salvation Army bands, took the lead. A huge crowd of people was assembled here, but there was no demonstration as the volunteers once more put their best feet formost and commenced the march to the station. Just after rounding into Argent-street, however, there was a loud cheer, which was repeated again and again before the men got to Sulphide-street, while there were frequent calls from the spectators, who recognised friends among the men, of "Good luck, lad," "Good-bye, Jack," and so on.

The little army was mostly in civilian attire, but they looked by no means slovenly. The military authorities had evidently chosen well. Every man was a well set up, sturdy looking unit. They marched with firm and regular tread and hardly one was out of step. As they marched the band played the "Punchinello" march.

At the railway station an immense crowd of thousands of people had assembled to witness the departure of the troops. So congested with people was the platform and all the approaches thereto, that it was with difficulty that the men got through the booking hall and across the intervening space to the train. There was some minutes to spare before the departure of the express, during which goodbyes were uttered; not entirely without wet eyes, pathetic speeches, and clinging embraces, though these were few and far between. On the whole the last words of farewell were cheery and lively, and inclined to boisterousness. Here and there women, some with babies, in arms, struggled through the tightly packed crowd towards friend or relative among the departees, while some sought in vain for those whom they wished to see but who were hidden from view among the crowds in the carriages--for there were many other passengers--or on the platform.

Those of the volunteers who could get to the windows or on the end platforms of the carriages talked with friends or joined in the singing of popular choruses such as "Rule Britannia," "Good-bye, Little Girl, Good-bye," "Soldiers of the Queen," "Auld Lang Syne," "God Save the King," etc. At one end of the platform the band provided the accompaniment for other popular airs. Just before the whistle went for the train to draw out, the scene became still more wildly enthusiastic. Cheers mingled with the calling out of goodbyes and the names of friends: "Rule Britannia," and "God Save the King," became the general choruses and then, as the huge engine slowly got in motion with its living freight, a great cheer from thousands of throats rent the air, and a forest of hats and handkerchiefs waved farewell. The demonstration continued until the last carriage had crossed over Bromide-street when the multitude quickly dispersed.”

For many, to serve overseas would offer a new adventure and regular pay. Unfortunately, John’s ‘independent’ streak was not curbed by enlisting, with him incurring two expensive fines in his first days for being AWOL and then smoking in a prohibited place.

Henry’s married sister, Ethel Murdoch who was still living in Bendigo, was named as his next of kin when John enlisted (but her surname was mis-spelt as Murbrech). Her husband, Joseph Murdoch was also a miner, who had sustained severe lacerations and a back injury when hit by falling ‘mullock’ (mining rock and earth) at the New Chum Consolidated mine in 1907 but survived for another 20 years.  The mis-spelt surname may have been the cause of John’s letters written from the front, being sent to the secretary of the Returned Servicemen’s Association and a plea published in the ‘Bendigo Advertiser’ in February 1816 for ‘the parents or relatives of Pte. J. J, Retallack, No. 535, l0th Batt 3rd Brigade, to' call at the association rooms for two letters returned from the front.’

Ethel was the first to be notified in May 1915 that John, then just 26, had been wounded, initially by a shell burn during the conflict in December, near Anzac Cove, Gallipoli with a gunshot wound to his back and shoulder: “Regret Reported Private J.J. Retallack wounded. Will advise upon receipt further particulars.”

However, by June John was ostensibly back on duty at the Dardanelles, despite a two-day AWOL from Base. Within a month he again sustained a gunshot wound to his right hand causing initial compound fractures to two of his fingers. Again, Ethel was contacted with the news that ‘Private J.J. Retallack slightly wounded disembarked Malta Hospital Ship “Somali” 31st July’ 1915. This letter was unclaimed, probably again because of the incorrect spelling of Ethel’s surname, this time as ‘Murbreech’ instead of Murdock.

The cause of injury then was examined by a Court of Enquiry on the 13th October. The injury to his right hand prevented John from writing his account of the incident but his verbal record was presented. In that, John described the background of an officer approaching, having seen some enemy Turks, telling the group to get in position to ‘have a shot’. There not being room for the whole group at the parapet, John’s Sergeant Howe had a good position as a sniper, emptying his own rifle. John had already loaded his rifle so passed this to Sgt Howe. “We discovered after a few shots had been fired that it was a false alarm and there were no Turks. Sgt Howe handed me my rifle. I sat down to clean it and it went off. How it went off I don’t know.”

Sgt Howe reiterated John’s recount but added “I handed the rifle back to Retallack remarking that it was loaded and the safety catch turned over to the rear. Pte Retallack is one of the old ‘C’ Company and was with the Battalion through the landing and was wounded in the attack of the 19th May. Pte Retallack was a good shot and a careful man and was very plucky. I did not actually witness the accident.”

Based on these accounts Colonel Price Weir concluded that “The wound was self-inflicted and I am of the opinion that the man was to blame, but at the same time consider it was accidental. I recommend his trial by F.G.C.M. for ‘Disobedience of Battalion Orders’.” Col Sinclair MacLagan went further adding “I hold the soldier to blame for neglecting to unload his rifle prior to cleaning it. Pte Retallack to be tried by C.M. on return from Hospital on charge under A.A. Sec. 40. Recommend this man has no claim against the Govt. on account of this injury.”

Meanwhile, that ‘accidently self-inflicted’ wound became septic resulting in the amputation of John’s index and middle two fingers aboard the Somali on his way to Malta. From there he was shipped to England in August 1915 for rehabilitation at the King George Hospital, then eventually to Australia. His record showed he was permanently unfit ‘for War Service and for Home Service’. The final injury assessment was that it ‘had resulted in extensive disability and although not equivalent to the loss of a hand it will be a serious inconvenience’. For a man reliant on his physical health as a miner and manual worker, this severely restricted his earning potential.

Following his discharge in March 1916, life continued to be a struggle for John on a very minimal War Pension; initially the equivalent of $3 reduced to $1.80 per fortnight. He lived in a Hindley Street boarding house run by a Mrs Meires, as did another Irish born soldier and previously miner, Patrick Flaherty with whom he served in the 10th Battalion. Both soldiers had sustained injuries while serving as Australia troops. Patrick’s were incurred at the Cairo Railway Station when he alighted from a train on 18th February 1915, unaware that a second fast moving train was passing. He sustained fracturing to the lower third of his femur, his skull, and extensive damage to his mutilated left hand. The latter required three of his fingers to be amputated with just the index finger and thumb remaining. Patrick’s hospitalisation resulting in a significant shortening of his leg (6.5cm) and possible extensive brain trauma from the skull fracture. In Patrick’s case, the inevitable Court of Enquiry concluded that his injury was accidental.

In July 1916 a report from the City Watch House recorded that Patrick was seen mid-morning, but when the landlady went upstairs to make her own bed, she looked into Patrick’s room to see him slumped in a chair with his head hanging down and blood pooling on the floor. She called John; whose room was a few doors away. On arrival, John saw the blood and also a cut throat razor, readily available at the time, on Patrick’s bed. Still conscious, Patrick asked John to fetch the police, which he did. On returning with Constable Sweeney, Patrick was able to tell John he “had to” cut his throat as he “couldn’t breathe”. It is not clear from Patrick’s war record if he had been subjected to poison gas or if his head injury and possible brain injury caused this belief. Initially the ‘Advertiser’ newspaper reported that this wound was ‘not dangerous’.

Subsequently, The ‘Daily Herald’ in July 1916 reported that John had found Patrick “sitting in a chair in his room, bleeding from the face. The constable investigated the matter immediately and found that Flaherty’s throat was cut and that there was a blood stained razor lying on the bed in the room. The man was taken to the Adelaide Hospital and was admitted by Dr Cowan.” Patrick was taken in a cab to the Adelaide Hospital but died four days later from pneumonia caused by the laceration to his throat.

For his service, John was awarded the 1914/15 Star, British War Medal and the Victory Medal. Aged just 32, John died four years after his discharge, on the 11th June 1921, and is buried in the West Terrace AIF Cemetery. Row 6 West, Grave 2. Disappointingly, his name is mis-spelt in the burial Register as Retallick rather than Retallack.

Researched and written by Kaye Lee, daughter of Bryan Holmes SX8133, 2/48th Battalion. Also grand-daughter of Blanche Retallack.