Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

"From Ballarat & District in the Great War"

Born at Ballarat in 1886, Horace Raymond Woods Griffin was the son of Irishman John Griffin and Elizabeth Mary “Lizzie” Head. John and Lizzie were to suffer more than their share of grief, with three of their sons dying in infancy. Horrie, his older sister, Ada, and their brother, Leslie, were to be the Griffin’s only surviving children. His father, who was a well-known figure in Ballarat, was a farrier with a prominent blacksmith’s shop in Mair Street.

As a boy Horrie attended the Christian Brothers School at St Alipius in Victoria Street, Ballarat East. He left school to take an apprenticeship with local tailor, Alex Miller of Bridge Street. After completing his training, Horrie moved to Warracknabeal to take up a position with Lemmon Brothers, tailors.

A fine athlete with an insatiable appetite for physical activity, Horrie had played football for local team Ballarat Imperials and rowed for the Ballarat City club. He had also served with Ballarat’s “Old 7th” Regiment in the Citizen Forces for a number of years. Moving to Warracknabeal saw no slowing in this flurry of participation and he was quickly involved in the town’s football and cricket teams; he also joined the Warracknabeal Fire Brigade.

In 1908 Horrie captained the Warracknabeal football team to the premiership in the local competition. At the Hospital Sports, the same year, he was the winner of the gold medal as the district champion runner and the Warracknabeal Herald Trophy.

After the successful football season, Horrie returned home to Ballarat. He continued to work as a tailor, and resumed his old sporting ties in football and rowing. It was later noted that Horrie was ‘always on the alert for seeking
fresh fields’ and, consequently, he travelled more than most of his peers.

A controversy flared following the 1910 BFL season when Horrie, who was playing for Imperials, reported that he had been approached by two men who attempted to bribe him to ‘play dead’. He was not the only player the men attempted to bribe to “throw” a game. The league was forced to address the issue and suggested that ‘…in the best interests of football, officers should not bet on matches…’

The death of his father on 25 June 1910 was a sad reminder to Horrie of the fragility of his family. He continued to live with his mother in the family home at 526 Mair Street, where Lizzie also conducted a boarding house. Sadly, just over three years later on 23 July 1913, Lizzie Griffin also died.

When war was declared, Horrie Griffin was one of the earliest to answer the call for volunteers when he enlisted at Essendon (where his married sister was living) on 18 August. After less than two months training, Horrie embarked as a private in H Company of the original 7th Infantry Battalion (with the First Contingent) under the command of Captain Ivie Blezard.

Horrie Griffin landed at Gallipoli at dawn on 25 April 1915. He had already begun a quick advancement through the ranks by this stage, and, on the 9 May he was promoted to the rank of sergeant major – an indication of his ability to lead men and take charge in dangerous situations.

On 14 May 1915, Horrie wrote home ‘from the trenches.’

‘…Everything is going on well, and I am in the best of health. We have had a very hard fight. Sunday next will be three weeks of it. I have had some very narrow escapes. For the last fortnight I have not had my boots off, and throughout have had to go without a wash or a shave, so you can guess how I look. But I don’t mind that as long as we get through all right.

I have just come out of the firing line, where I have been since Saturday. We all advanced under very heavy fire. The Australians are making a great name for themselves among all the different troops here. We are doing splendid work, and receiving praise from all sides.

We have come out for what they call ‘spell camp,’ to get built up a bit. We get very good tucker when it comes. ‘Spell camp’ lasts for about four days, then back we go to work again.

The life in the trenches is not too bad. I like it, and so do all here…’

Some months later Horrie wrote in more detail to his sister, Ada,

‘…The landing was terrible, shells bursting everywhere, with hails of bullets. We had 30 in our boat, but only 28 reached the shore. We had to jump into the water up to our heads. I went right down and lost my rifle, but as soon as I got ashore I got a wounded man’s rifle and went up the cliff like a madman after the Turks.

I have not had the luck to get one on the end of my bayonet yet; we can’t get near enough to them. No doubt there was a few bayoneted the first day, but not so many as the boys write home and say. I can account for a great number of Turks with my rifle, as you know I am a fairly good shot.

I have got charge of what they call the ‘beauty.’ It is a rifle grenade with a very powerful explosion, and I have been giving them some Turkish delight with it. We captured some trenches last week, and I can fire from our trench right into the Turks with it; they are only 50 yards away from us.

Colonel _____ was telling me I was doing a lot of damage now, in a good position, and I can assure you we will take some shifting out by the “John Bourke’s” (Turks) if they charge again, but I think they have had enough of attacking us. Last time we got 2700; they were laying two and three deep in front of our trenches; some got to within 30 yards, and then we mowed them down like a binder in a crop. I was a bit excited when I saw them get out of their trench, but as they came on we settled down. I felt as though I was going out with the Imps to play a final, but then the fun started – fun I call it; it seems cruel sport, but we are now quite used to it. I take no notice of anything.

I have been here since the landing, and I tell you it is very trying on the nerves; there are only about 30 of us who have not been away sick or wounded, so I am expecting a bit of shell any day now. I have been in three charges since I started; I cannot explain how I felt when we wee charging but I was pretty shaky waiting to start.

Men all along the line are dropped one by one, some killed, others wounded, but we cannot stop to attend to them. When it is dark, we crawl out and bring them in. I know how it is to have had nerves after a smoke night, but I have a complete breakdown at present; it is terrible the strain on us, but I will stick to it till the last, and I don’t think that will be long now.

All the boys here say, ‘The old man (that is what the boys call me) has a charmed life.’ I think I am very lucky; had a scratch on the shoulder, nothing much, so I wonder if they will do a better job next time they hit me; hope not…’

There was no doubt, however, that Horrie found the conditions particularly trying. He often wrote home to friends remarking that he ‘could do with a good halfback position in the field with the Imps for a season’ as he was ‘just about tired of the war’ and was ‘counting the days until [they] were relieved to come home for a long holiday.’

On 30 August, Horrie was admitted to the Advanced Dressing Station of the 3rd Field Ambulance. Details are sketchy and somewhat confusing, with reference to a chest wound, pneumonia and dysentery. He was transferred to Cairo where he was admitted to the 1st Australian General Hospital on 5 September suffering from bronchitis. Then, on 23 September he was invalided to England in preparation for an early return to Australia. This time the diagnosis was “heart strain.” The condition often referred to as a disordered action of the heart (DAH) was a common side effect of battle fatigue, stress, and shellshock. It is clear that the pressure of several months in the frontline had had a distinct impact on Horrie’s health. He was admitted to the Reading War Hospital on 5 October.

Apparently, the rest and rehabilitation of the English countryside had their effect on Horrie, and it wasn’t long before the young man was well enough to get into trouble! A hearing held at the Australian Intermediate Depot at Abbey Wood on 10 January 1916 was presented with two charges against Horrie: swearing at a superior officer and causing a disturbance in the Men’s Canteen. According to witnesses, Horrie had been somewhat intoxicated. He was said to have asked the cook to come and have a drink with him. When the cook refused, Horrie called the man ‘a bastard.’ Sergeant-Major W. E. Love, who was also present at the time, ordered Horrie to leave the kitchen, upon which Horrie told him to “Go to the shithouse”. For these misdemeanours, Horrie was severely reprimanded.

Having made a full recovery, Horrie was allotted to the 22nd draft set to rejoin the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force in Egypt and embarked from Weymouth on 22 February 1916; he arrived back in Cairo on 5 March.

However, it wasn’t long before Horrie found himself in trouble once again. At Tel-el-Kebir on 4 May, a Field General Court Martial was held to investigate charges that Horrie Griffin had urinated in the men’s mess shed at Giza and had, when confronted, had given a false name. This time the charges were thrown out and Horrie was found not guilty.

In the meantime, back in Australia, Horrie’s sister, Ada, and her husband, Arthur Cameron, were becoming increasingly concerned as letter after letter was returned to them marked “no trace”. On 13 May, Arthur wrote to the Minister of Defence, complaining most strongly about the non-delivery of 21 letters (dated from the beginning of July 1915) to his brother-in-law. Complaints to the Post Master General had brought no satisfaction and he was advised that ‘a more definite explanation cannot be furnished.’ One can only imagine the worry this situation created.

On 29 May, Horrie, along with other reinforcements, marched into the 1st Divisional Base Depot in the French seaside town of Étaples. He finally rejoined the 7th Battalion on 29 July.

The 7th Battalion arrived in the trenches at La Boiselle, near Pozieres, at 10pm on 22 July, where they were forced to take shelter in shell holes as they waited for the relieved troops to evacuate. The ensuing days were spent in the trenches in the vicinity of Contalmaison under constant and heavy enemy shellfire.

The men finally entered the outskirts of Pozieres late on 25 July. The utter destruction that confronted them was something those who survived would never forget.

‘…No houses other than the smallest portions of same were left in Pozieres as [the] whole area was a mass of broken clods, trees and masonry…’

Fierce fighting continued over the coming days and casualties continued to mount at an alarming rate as the Australian troops fought to drive the Germans from what remained of the village.

During the evening of 18 August 1916, the 7th Battalion in conjunction with the 8th Battalion, attacked the enemy trenches. Following the attack, Horrie Griffin was listed as wounded in action. He had been in the frontline trenches of the Western Front for just 27 days. Tragically, this was quickly amended to killed in action following correspondence from a Captain Ansley, serving with the Canadians, who, along with a party from the 15th Canadian Battalion, had buried Horrie’s body on the battlefield. He had also retrieved the identity disc and personal effects.

His mates, however, firmly believed a mistake had been made, as it had been widely believed that he had been evacuated to England suffering from shellshock. Enquiries by the Red Cross elicited no new information as there was no trace of him in patient registers in English hospitals. A French film that was shown in Melbourne apparently showed Horrie in a bed at Dollis Hall Hospital. There was real concern that a mistake had been made. His mate, Sergeant Frank Bolitho (who would himself later succumb to disease), made exhaustive enquiries of his own and stated that ‘men in successive drafts [from England] who have come across to this camp, testify to having seen him there.’ Bolitho was certain that Horrie was alright.

Despite this, no trace of Horrie Griffin was ever found. The news gradually filtered through from Europe to Australia and then (via old newspapers) back again. Corporal Victor Sharp (from Ballarat) wrote home after reading an obituary for Horrie, ‘…Although the papers are two months old when we receive them, they are always interesting. A read about Horrie Griffin, he met his fate in the Somme. The name of the Somme is a nightmare to us boys, and we will not be sorry to leave it for good…’

Having no known grave, Horrie Griffin’s name was later commemorated on the Australian National Memorial at Villers-Bretonneux.