Our Darkest Day

by Patrick Lindsay

  Future generations owe a great debt to Bean. For not only did he complete a monumental work of research, he coincidentally added many other benefits that continue to bear fruit today. He advocated the establishment of the Australian War Records Section which collected, maintained and collated the records he knew he would need in his work. He agitated for the appointment of war artists and photographers to record Australians in action and, perhaps most importantly, he was the driving force behind the creation of the Australian War Memorial, which has earned a world-wide reputation as one of the great repositories of war relics and memorabilia. What is more, the AWM is imbued with Bean’s spirit. It is far more than a war museum, it is a shrine that reverently honours those who have made sacrifices for their country and their people.

  Dead soldiers, lying where they fell in the German front line, on the morning after the Battle of Fromelles. (AWM PHOTO A01554)

  A photo of the battlefield at Fromelles, taken in July 1918, showing the remnants of bullet-torn kits of the Diggers. Two water bottles are visible in the foreground. (AWM PHOTO E04037)

  From the outset, Bean acknowledged that his work would not be definitive or perfect. Indeed, historians have made many revisions and corrections down the years. But what sets Bean’s work apart is his relentless attention to detail, his fairness and his understanding of the Digger. While many official histories are written by high-ranking officers, who may or may not have participated in the events, Bean’s point of view always includes that of the humble Digger – the man at the sharp end who carries out the orders that the great strategists conceive in their chateaux. In fact Bean was there with the Diggers, in the mud and the blood, whenever he possibly could be, as he observed in the preface to the first volume in 1921:

  The writer himself, either on the day of battle or soon afterwards, visited as far as it lay in him to do so, every important trench or position mentioned in this and the following five volumes, and of most of them he kept detailed notes. By the kind trust of the authorities and of the men and officers of the A.I.F. he was enabled throughout the four years of the war to make a rule of being present, while the events narrated in these volumes were actually happening, on some part of every battlefield on which Australian infantry fought – the only important exceptions being the battle of Fromelles in 1916 (which he was only able to reach some hours later, when troops were being withdrawn), and the battle of Hermies, which occurred in 1917 while he was for a short time unavoidably absent in England.

  It’s interesting that one of only two battles that Bean mentions as being exceptions to his general rule was Fromelles. Yet, even at Fromelles he rushed to the scene from the Somme as soon as he heard about it, arriving in time to see the chaotic withdrawal and the recovery of the wounded.

  The impact of Fromelles on Charles Bean is clear when we see that he returned to the battlefield on the very first day he could when the war ended, Armistice Day itself – 11 November 1918. He had realised he had no photograph of the sacred ground there so he took a photographer and he walked in the footsteps of the men who made it into the German lines and he stood at the Sugar Loaf, by then a pile of mangled concrete and metal, and he gazed across no-man’s land and he thought of the thousands who died and were maimed there:

  We found the old no-man’s land simply full of our dead. In the narrow sector west of the Laies River and east of the Sugar Loaf Salient, the skulls and bones and torn uniforms were lying around everywhere. I found a bit of Australian kit lying fifty yards from the corner of the salient, and the bones of an Australian officer and several men within 100 yards of it. Farther around, immediately on their flank, were a few British – you could tell by their leather equipment. And within 100 yards of the west corner of the Sugar Loaf Salient there was lying a small party of English too – also with an officer – you could tell the cloth of his coat.

  Sadly, Bean could only identify two of the remains he found that day at Fromelles – a microcosm of the problems that would face the recovery units all over France and beyond.

  While Bean’s reportage forms the spine of the narrative of the battles, the recollections of individuals often provide the kind of clues that sleuths like Lambis Englezos seek to find the fate of individuals swept up in the maelstrom. The account of Private Bill Barry of the 29th Battalion is an excellent example. He had been in one of the carrying parties bringing supplies to the 8th Brigade on the left flank of the Australian attack. He made a couple of successful crossings before he was badly wounded and captured. Some time in 1917, when he was recuperating in an English hospital after being repatriated because he had lost his leg, he wrote a wonderful account of his time in uniform, now in the archives of the Australian War Memorial. Writing of the lead-up to his capture, Barry explains how he had just handed over a load of ammunition to the advanced Australian attackers in the German trenches when he was trapped in a savage enemy artillery barrage:

  The German artillery fire was growing fiercer every minute, in fact it was hellish – the shells were landing with great accuracy and killing the boys like flies. About ten o’clock I shifted my position and was able to get into the German trench and no sooner had I got in when a shell struck the top of the parapet with a terrific explosion. Two lads standing alongside of me started to cry for their Mothers and I told them to stop that but to pray to God to get them out of this. No sooner than the words were out of my mouth than another shell hit the parapet just about my head and that was the end of everything for a while for I was unconscious.

  On the day of the Armistice on 11 November 1918, official historian Charles Bean took a photographer back to the battlefield at Fromelles to record the sacred ground there. This photo shows the old no-man’s land and the remains of the River Laies, the German trenches and the ruins of the Sugar Loaf pillboxes to the right of the picture. (AWM PHOTO E04029)

  When Bill Barry regained consciousness some considerable time later he felt his legs being pulled roughly. He opened his eyes to find half a dozen Germans surrounding him. He lapsed back into unconsciousness again and woke to find himself among a group of Australians who told him they had been taken prisoner. He came across an English-speaking German officer who first attended to his wounded legs and then turned nasty, apparently ordering some of his men to give Barry a beating. They did such a good job that they knocked him out again. When he came to some hours later, he found he had been robbed of all his belongings. After a number of other beatings, one with a piece of timber, Barry was handed over to the German Red Cross who took him to their dugout and fed him black bread with bully beef and coffee and gave him a greatcoat to keep him warm. Barry said he was beyond caring that the coat was still wet with blood. Shortly after, he was left alone for a couple of hours and he was able to look around outside the shelter:

  to my horror I was in the place where all the dead men were. I was sitting on the edge of a hole about forty feet long, twenty feet wide and fifteen feet deep and into this hole the dead were being thrown without any fuss or respect. It was pitiful to see the different expressions on their faces, some with a peaceful smile while others showed they had passed away in agony.

  Shortly afterward the Germans took Barry and some other wounded prisoners to a nearby dressing station and then by a horse ambulance wagon to a hospital to the rear.

  Barry’s account of the Germans burying the German and Australian dead from the battle provided a powerful corroboration of the subsequent evidence that the Germans had buried many of the missing from Fromelles.

  The highest ranking officer among the missing from Fromelles is the CO of the 53rd Battalion, Lieutenant Colonel Ignatius Bertram ‘Bert’ Norris, who was killed as he led his men into the second line of the German trenches.

  In many ways the experience of Bert Norris’ loved ones was typical of many of his missing comrades’ families. Examining his service file, which runs to 49 pages and is now in the Australian Archives, and his 10-page Australian Red Cross Wounded and Missing Enquiry Bureau file wit
h the Australian War Memorial, gives us a good understanding of, not only what happened to Norris himself, but also how the system operated to inform and compensate his family.

  Norris was an experienced militia soldier and an accomplished Sydney barrister who had been a member of the NSW Legislative Council when he joined the AIF. He was the youngest son of Richard Augustine Norris, a well-known Sydney banker and the honorary treasurer of St Mary’s Cathedral. Born on 31 July 1880, Bert was educated at St Ignatius College Riverview in Sydney, where he was an outstanding student and sportsman. The college archives show that young Bert almost lost his life at Riverview’s very first swimming carnival in 1890. He was just a slip of a boy and he apparently fearlessly, and foolishly, jumped into the pool without having learned how to swim properly. He initially sank without trace but was noticed and saved by a fellow student Charley Lennon and revived by a Jesuit priest, Fr Pigot, who fortuitously had been a doctor before joining the priesthood. The college diarist noted that Bert had been

  preserved for a brilliant and beneficent career, all too brief indeed, and was to meet a nobler end as we shall see anon.

  Bert Norris passed his law matriculation in 1896 and took articles of clerkship with a Sydney solicitor while simultaneously reading for the bar. He was called to the NSW Bar in 1908 – apparently the only person to have qualified as a solicitor and a barrister at the same time in NSW. Of slight build – 168 centimetres (5 feet 7 inches) and 63.5 kilograms (10 stone) – he nevertheless represented his state at hockey and was a fine tennis player, cricketer and golfer.

  Lientenant Colonel Ignatius Bertram ‘Bert’ Norris, CO of the 53rd Battalion, who died leading his men into the second line of German trenches at Fromelles. He is the highest-ranking of the missing Diggers from the battle. (PHOTO COURTESY ST IGNATIUS COLLEGE ARCHIVES)

  In the militia, Norris quickly rose through the ranks of the NSW Irish Rifles Regiment, under the future Governor of Papua, Colonel Hubert Murray. Promoted to captain in 1906, by the time the war broke out and he joined up Norris was 34, a major in the 34th Regiment and a prominent barrister with a thriving practice that included service as Secretary to the Vice-President of the NSW Legislative Council. Three months earlier, he had married Bessie Lane-Mullens. Norris sailed for Egypt on the troopship HMAT Centaur with the 5th Reinforcements of the 1st Battalion on 26 June 1915. (Riverview’s Our Alma Mater magazine noted that he was one of four Riverview barristers who went off to war on the ship that day.) Bessie followed Bert to Cairo where she gave birth to their son John Richard Bertram Norris at the end of that year.

  In Cairo, Norris started serving with the 6th Infantry Training Battalion but the army quickly drew on his legal skills and he was soon acting as the judge-advocate in courts-martial. Clearly, Norris could have taken the safe staff option and stayed in the rear. He had established a reputation as a leader and planner in Egypt and, at one stage, was appointed acting Brigadier of Anzac Reserve Brigade, commanding about 12,000 men responsible for a large chunk of the Cairo defences. But Norris wanted to get into the fight and he persuaded his superiors to give him command of a battalion. He was promoted to lieutenant colonel and given command, first of the 22nd Battalion and then, during the AIF reorganisation in Egypt, of the newly formed 53rd Battalion in the 14th Brigade of the 5th Division AIF, bound for the Western Front.

  When Lieutenant Colonel Norris sailed with the 5th Division for France in late June 1916, Bessie took her infant son to London to be nearer her husband.

  During the battle at Fromelles, Norris had led his men across noman’s land and was charging into the German second line when he was cut down. The official report of his death read:

  Lt Col Norris was killed shortly after 6 pm on evening 19/20 July ’16 while leading men of his battalion in an assault on the 2nd enemy line in front of FROMELLES. He was several times hit by machinegun fire and death was practically instantaneous. The position was retaken by the enemy next morning and the body was not recovered.

  Our Alma Mater reported:

  In the action of the 19th July, the Australians were the attacking forces and Lieut-Col Norris led his 53rd over the parapet. The first line of trenches was taken and passed. Lieut-Col Norris kept at the head of his men and encouraged them by calling out, ‘Come on lads! Only another trench to take!’ About 70 yards beyond the first line he was hit by a machine-gun bullet and died almost on the instant. His last words were, ‘Here, I’m done, will somebody take my papers?’ The casualties in the fight were very severe, the 53rd Batt alone losing a third of its effectives.

  At the time of the battle, Bessie Norris was waiting in London, hoping to see Bert when he was able to travel across the Channel on his first leave. She would likely have heard that her husband had been killed within a week of his death. That she had the financial capacity and the social clout to follow him, first to Cairo where she delivered their son John, and then to London where she stayed with relatives, speaks volumes for Bert Norris’ influence and wealth. Bessie would probably have heard through official sources of Norris’ fate and later from letters from his comrades, including his battalion padre, Father John Kennedy. Corfield quotes from the letter Kennedy wrote to Bessie:

  It is with feelings of the greatest sorrow and deepest sympathy that I write you this letter. I should have written to you some days ago, but I could not brace myself to write.

  Your dear husband died a hero’s death, leading his battalion in an engagement on the 19th inst. God knows how I pity you – but you have the great consolation of knowing that the Colonel was prepared to die. He was never ashamed of his Holy Faith. Every Sunday he received Holy Communion and often during the week since he was appointed to the Command of this regiment.

  On the morning of the battle he knelt down before his men and received Holy Communion from me. He had successfully led his men to the second line of the enemy trenches when a machine gun bullet struck him and killed him instantly. His adjutant Lieut. Moffitt, was killed at the same time.

  Oh, Mrs Norris, he died a hero’s death, and you will be able to tell your child later how brave his father was, and above all, how noble and conscientious a Catholic.

  When a soldier died, the protocol was to gather first-hand reports from those who saw him fall. This was all the more important when his comrades were not able to recover his body, as was the case with Lieutenant Colonel Norris. One of the eye-witnesses’ accounts noted in Norris’ file was from Private Arthur Rupert Pike who saw him fall:

  I saw Col. Norris shot in the abdomen by a bullet and killed instantly.

  Pike gave a description of Norris as a ‘little man, wore glasses, dark hair, small dark moustache’.

  Captain Geoff Street wrote:

  I took him orders about the attack which was made. Col. Norris went over in the charge with his battalion and was killed, near the German’s second-line trenches. He was at that time, with his Adjutant, who was also killed. I, myself, from my position during the battle, can say that Col. Norris met his death like a solider, and I can say nothing finer than that. All men in his regiment can testify and do testify to his personal courage and leadership, both of which were gallant in the extreme. The fighting was extremely severe.

  Another note from the file refers to a request from Private Frank Leslie Croft, a signaller in Norris’ Battalion, who wanted an address for Norris’ widow Bessie so he could write to her. He had been the last man with him when he died and wanted to tell her of his last moments. Croft was a fine soldier whose claim about being with Norris was corroborated in Croft’s belated recommendation for a Distinguished Conduct Medal dated 12 October 1916:

  Near Fromelles in the action of 19/20 July 1916, Pte Croft, a signaller, accompanied his C.O. (the late Lieut-Col Norris) into the German trenches and on his C.O. being wounded, Private Croft with others attempted to bring him back to our own lines. A German machine gun was turned on to the party and the C.O. the Adjutant and two others were killed the remainder were ordered to disperse. Private
Croft after taking a prisoner went on and reported himself to the O.C. Advanced Company and remained with him maintaining communication with the adjoining battalion and trying to get in touch with our guns. Before leaving he cut all the wires in the German trenches thinking they may lead to a mine. Lieut Myers has brought this man’s name to notice as being particularly cool and brave throughout. His clothes and equipment were riddled with bullets. As a signaller, both before and after this action, he very frequently laid and repaired telephone lines under heavy fire and difficult circumstances, and has always been outstandingly cool and brave. The gallantry displayed by Pte Croft has only recently been brought to notice otherwise he would have been recommended at an earlier date for immediate reward.

  Another private from the 53rd said of Norris:

  He was a man in a million, a gentleman to speak to, and if anyone got into crime street, and came before him, he got sound advice and the minimum penalty. I had a chat with him the morning of the charge, and he might have been a private, so nice and friendly he was to me. He received Holy Communion in his dug-out that morning: Father Kennedy told me he had done so regularly for some considerable time … I attended Requiem Mass in the town … the large church was filled with soldiers of his battalion, and others as well.

  As we have seen, despite their best efforts, Frank Croft and his mates had to leave Norris’ body behind when they withdrew from the German trenches.

  Norris’ standing in the community was confirmed when his obituary appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald of 1 August. His brother Osborne, a Sydney solicitor, wrote to the army advising that he held Norris’ will and that he and Sir Allen Taylor were the executors of his estate. Osborne asked the army to send a death certificate when it was available so he could start probate proceedings.