Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

Ballarat & District in the Great War

Ballarat's Kerby Brothers

Norman Vivian Gladstone Kerby (1895-25/4/1915)

Until this week I had been unable to complete a series on the five Kerby brothers from Ballarat East, Mack, Eddie, Norman, Royal and Noble, due to the lack of photographs of the younger pair. Thanks to descendent Rob Kerby, I am now able to complete the story. I will repost the pieces on the elder three brothers in order of enlistment...

Norman Kerby was probably the least robust of the Kerby brothers, but he had their determination and solidity of character in drayloads. And he was brave far beyond his years.

Born at Ballarat East on 22 August 1895, Norman Vivian Gladstone Kerby was the third surviving son of local mine manager, James Macklam Kerby, and Margaret Ann “Annie” Brennan.

Norman began his education at the Mount Pleasant State School near the family home at 22 Barkly Street. The younger Kerby boys then transferred to the Humffray Street State School where Norman received his final primary schooling.

He was a bright lad who had a gift for descriptive prose. Unlike his older brother, Mack and Eddie, who attended Grenville College, Norman graduated instead to Ballarat’s Catholic secondary school, St Patrick’s College.

An interest in “military matters” was strong in the Kerby boys, and Norman showed an intense interest in soldiering from an early age. He continued on from school cadets to senior cadets in the citizen forces. When he moved to Melbourne to begin his first job – as a clerk in the office of Noyes Brothers & Company, the well-known Engineers, Electrical and Hardware Merchants of Lonsdale Street, Melbourne – Norman joined the ranks of the 60th Regiment.

Norman was within days of his 19th birthday when he enlisted at the Melbourne Town Hall on 17 August 1914. He went into camp at Broadmeadows, where he was posted to B Company of the 7th Infantry Battalion. His medical examination showed that Norman had not yet matured to his brothers’ stature and his complexion was sallow – an old expression that implied an unhealthy cast to the skin. It was around this time that his sister presented B Company with a mascot – a bulldog they named Billy, or Old Bill, as he was sometimes known. The dog was as much a talisman for a much-loved brother as he was a mascot, and Norman adored him.

The 7th Battalion, with Norman Kerby and Billy the Bulldog, embarked from Melbourne onboard the troopship Hororata. They were a part of the First Contingent to sail from Australia, leaving port on 19 October 1914.

The trip across the Indian Ocean and through to Egypt took the contingent seven weeks, a tedium that was only broken by the excitement of one of their escort vessels, HMAS Sydney, peeling off after the German cruiser, Emden.

For Norman the journey was worth it – he loved Egypt and in particular Cairo, and he was fascinated by the historical contradictions he found there.

'…It was at the junction of these two lakes that Moses fled from Pharaoh across the Red Sea. I can quite understand that miracle now. The distance across appears to be about one mile, and except in that part dredged for the Canal, is quite shallow. As, of course, the Canal was not built at the time of Moses, it doubtless was shallow all the way across. My idea of the crossing of the Israelites is this - when Moses and his people were negotiating the trip it must have been a very low tide. (In the present state of affairs a low tide would just about leave things dry). In this very low tide, then, the Jews got across safely; but when Pharaoh and his host came along an exceptionally heavy spring tide swept through the narrow passage, and - well, we know the result…
[Cairo had also made a deep impression]

…that most modern and yet most ancient of cities, the city of Rameses, of the Pharaohs, of the great and wonderful Pyramids, of the wondrous flat-nosed Sphinx; the city of all nationalities, which was the centre of civilisation when even the pompous Romans were as yet (in an empire sense) children; the city where the rumbling electric tram shoots past the water-wheels that have been known since the times long before Christ; the city where swift and luxurious motor-cars whiz past the slow and humble donkey, whose forbears were yet mighty enough to carry the person of our Lord the Saviour: the city which for ages past has been invaded and subjugated by hostile armies; the city which, even now, is invaded by the army of the youngest, and, let us hope, the best, nation, and which has taken that army, the army of glorious Australia, in its bosom…'

Norman’s first experience of war service came with the defence of the Suez Canal. Although, by the time the Australians arrived on 4 February 1915 the Turkish army had retreated, so there was not the longed for confrontation that the men had anticipated, but they did not have much longer to wait. During the first week of April the Australian units assigned for the planned attack on the Dardanelles began to embark from Egypt.

On Sunday 25 April 1915, Norman stormed ashore at ANZAC Cove with his 7th Battalion comrades. Eddie Kerby, who had been keeping a close eye on his little brother, had to cool his heels waiting off shore until after the initial landing. The first thing he did was to look for Norman. Sadly, his brother had been killed in action on the first day; the heartbreaking task of telling the family fell to Eddie:

I have the most unhappy news I could have to tell you, so I have started with the chorus of a song May sent to me some time ago. Poor Norman has died in action. Bodily, he was not strong, but his heart was game - game as the best of them.

On Sunday morning, 25th April, the Australians landed on the Gallipoli Peninsula, at Gaba Tepe. The landing was most strongly opposed: the enemy made it an absolute hell on earth all day. Norman landed about 5.30am, and was still going at 4pm. After that I heard he was wounded in the leg and was crawling back to the shore. After that I could find no further trace of him until today, when my messenger managed to see his company commander and learned that he had died on the Sunday.

Poor kiddie, he knew he was dying, but that did not worry him. He sent love to you all, and the last thing he said to his mate was "Look after Billy". [Billy was a bulldog presented by his sister to the 7th Battalion as a mascot when leaving Melbourne]. I did not allow him to take Billy ashore with him, as I thought he would take risks himself to look after the dog; but it made no difference.

I did not write before, as I did not know how he had got along, and I had not the heart to write of doubts and fears. He fought hard to be in at the fight, and it proved to be his last. I did not like the cough he had developed; it was causing me much uneasiness. Norman himself was rather afraid of it, but his principal fear was that it would stop him from going to the front.

I did not land with the first party on 25th April, and therefore escaped the worst part of the fighting. My job was on the ship getting ammunition and water off and the wounded back on board. I never worked harder in my life. I was on the ship until Tuesday 27th April, when I came ashore, and have been in the trenches ever since. It is most distressing work, and it is easy to understand why men must be thoroughly trained before they are fit to face each other in death grips. We had to remain awake all night last night and the night before, but today we were relieved in the trenches and have been given a holiday. Were it not for the evidences of war, this would be an ideal holiday spot. Close to the beach are steep sand dunes. Our men had to charge up these in the face of rifle fire, machine-guns, and shrapnel. It is just as well the Turks were afraid of the bayonet.

The Navy, who assisted our landing, stated that everyone who landed on Sunday deserved the VC. After being over the hills taken, I think any person with military knowledge would agree with that verdict.

I have not the heart to write much. I will try later on and give you full particulars of the whole show, but in the meantime we are in the hands of God, and can only trust to His mercy…'

Eddie continued to try to find out what had happened to his brother,

‘…Of Norman I continue to get occasional news. Everyone who was near him after he was wounded states that he was exceedingly plucky and did not worry about himself at all, but told his mates to go on and "give it to them." Poor kiddie, his heart was willing, even though his flesh was weak…’

As it turned out Norman had indeed been wounded and sent back to the beach, but he apparently went to the assistance of men who were carrying ammunition forward for the Australian machine-gunners when he was killed. Despite intimations that Norman had spoken to other soldiers before he died there was no opportunity for a marked burial, and his grave, if indeed he had one, was lost to the thyme and scrub of Gallipoli.

As was often the case a sense of unreality existed for those “back home” as letters from those who had died continued to arrive. A letter to Mrs Mary Lau, widow of the town missionary, John West Lau, was a poignant reminder and a sad last word from a fine young man who had fallen in battle.

‘…Dear Mrs Lau — I received your letter last Thursday, and although I was very glad to receive news from you, I was sorry indeed to hear of the death of Mr Lau. Please pardon me, Mrs Lau, if I open wounds afresh, but that terribly sad news, which is all new to me, has filled me with a sympathy which I can poorly express. Mr Lau will always live in my memory as the best, most upright, and Godly gentleman that I ever knew or could wish to know, he was always so kindly and courteous to everyone he met, always with a smile on his face, and even when I used to yet Howard to come out and play football, etc., and Howard had been forbidden to go out, Mr Lau would reprove me in such a kindly way that I would be ashamed of myself. If I thought that when my work on this earth was completed, and I could look back on my life and say that it had been one-eighth as good as Mr Lau's, I would die happy.

It is a thing we must all face in this life, and in a few days, eight, I may be one of those whose lot it is to go under. If it pleases God to choose me as one who dies for his country, I pray for strength to meet it as I know Mr Lau met his - patiently, manfully, and fearlessly. Please accept my heartfelt sympathy towards you and your family in your sorrowful event.

I hope that the new missionary, Mr Adam Clarke, will prove successful in his new church. I suppose you feel rather strange in your new district.
Please excuse this awful scribble, but I am writing this in the Y.M.C.A. tent, and am being jostled from all sides.

We had a lovely voyage across, but it was very monotonous. We were not allowed ashore at any of the ports en route, and all we saw of the various places was that seen from the transport. The Suez Canal is a wonderful piece of work, and one marvels at the way they keep on dredging it. They have big suction dredges right up the canal, and these work night and day. It takes sixteen hours to go from Port Suez to Port Said, and it is a voyage of never-ceasing delight.

The English and, Indian soldiers we passed were thousands. And the antics of the Arab “kiddies'' as they run along the banks crying 'Bachkrishe' are very funny.

You can imagine how glad we were to land at Alexandria, after being cooped up for seven long weeks. And how wondrous Cairo appeared to us— civilised, barbarous Cairo. Cairo of the Ancients, of the Moderns, of the Orientals, of the Westerners, the magnificent, the ruinous. It is a very remarkable city. No city in Australia could equal it in magnificence. The buildings are wonderful. Everything is wonderful. I could not explain all the beauties and wonders of this place if I were to write for a week.

I have climbed every Pyramid there is to be climbed, gone into every one it is possible to go into, visited all ruins, temples, tombs, and the Dead City; put my name on the Sphinx, and gone everywhere that man could go. That is, as far as it is possible to go with only one day off a week. The Pyramids ae very interesting, especially inside. About a quarter of the way up the northern face is an opening about four feet by four feet. You go into this backwards and edge down a very steep tunnel that is as smooth as glass.

About fifty yards of this brings one to a small cave, and you climb from there up on to a ledge that slopes upwards at an impossible angle. After climbing about sixty feet up this tunnel you enter another cave. This has a tunnel leading off it, and one leading still further upwards. We took the first tunnel and after a little walk came to a very large chamber; this is called the Queen's Chamber. From here they got the mummy of the wife of Ramesses or Cheops, one of the Pharaohs. It is a lovely chamber, made of huge blocks of granite and alabaster.

We return to the cave and climb the alabaster staircase. The alabaster is there all right, but no steps, they have been worn smooth, and there is nothing to catch hold of. We creep up an angle as smooth as glass, and have a sinking feeling inside of us. At last, however, we reach the top and are rewarded. A large chamber with blocks of granite, marble, and alabaster that would equal a small house in Australia. This then is the object of the Great Pyramid - the tomb of a monarch who lived centuries ago. They got the mummy of Cheops out of this chamber.

We commence the descent and being lucky, I did not break my neck, and was indeed thankful to find myself in the open air. We then climbed to the top on the outside, but that was easy.

Our battalion was sent to Ismailia to fight the Turks, but they cleared six hours before we arrived - bad luck, wasn't it. I am in the best of health and spirits, and hope to go through the campaign with success…’

Some months later, Norman’s mother wrote a letter to The Honourable R. McGregor, pleading for news and for something that belonged to her son,
‘…Dear Sir, enclosed you will find my late dear son’s address. He forwarded it in his last letter to me which I received 2 months after his death. He furthermore wrote that this address would find him anywhere no matter where. I am sorry to know it will never find him again. I believe he made his sister next-of-kin. She had been kind to him & he didn’t forget her, but she would not set much store on any of his belongings & I would. If I could get any of his clothes, anything that would not be useful, I value them just because they were his & it seems such a dreadful time to wait before we can hear anything. I would like to know who was near him when he died. Life is full of bitterness. I am Yours Gratefully, Annie Kerby...’
There was no sign of anything ever being returned to her…
In 1967 the Australian Government struck a Gallipoli commemorative medallion that was to be presented to the men who served on the peninsula, or to their surviving families. Eddie Kerby applied for Norman’s medallion – a last souvenir of the brother he had lost.

Son of Mr James Macklam and Mrs Margaret Anne (nee Brennan) Kerby of Ballarat, Victoria.

Brother of

• 1364 Sergeant Macklam James Martin Kerby (DCM) - 3rd Tunnelling Company killed in action France 27th November 1916 (1886);
• Major Edwin Thomas John Kerby - 8th Battalion returned (1888);
• Stella Bertha Jessie Kerby (1890);
• Harold Laurence Allison Kerby (1892);
• Vera Sylvia Kath Kerby (1893);
• 2248 Driver Royal Tressillian Richard Mcgrain Kerby - Australian Motor Transport Section returned (1896) and
• 51630 Private Noble Victorious Charles Kerby - 3rd General (Victorian) Reinforcements returned (1899).