Remember Me: Forgotten pictures

Remember Me: The Lost Diggers of Vignacourt
National War Memorial
November 2012 - July 2013

Apparently a picture is worth a thousand words, and actions speak louder than them, but the small, sentimental exhibit at the National War Memorial references words, pictures and deeds.

For much of the First World War Vignacourt was just behind the front lines; a staging point, casualty clearing station and recreation area for troops of all nationalities moving up to and then back from the battlefields on the Somme. Passing military traffic came from the British, American, Chinese, Indian, Scottish, Nepalese and French as well as Australian diggers.

An enterprising French couple, Louis and Antoinette Thuillier, established a business taking portrait photos. They took the photos in their stables and turned them into postcards so the soldiers could send them home, and maintain a fragile link with family and loved ones back home in Australia.

“Enough of war, we are now resting in a peaceful little village and it is lovely to lay in the sweet grass under the apple trees and forget the trials of war and think of home sweet home. Bill, Ern and myself had our photos taken today and I will send you one when I get them.” – Horace Arnold Parton, 5th Battalion, 1916

The negatives of these photos were discovered years later in the attic of a dilapidated farmhouse by a relative of the photographers, who generously donated many of them to the Australian War Memorial. There were over 4,000 pictorial records of soldiers on leave, tired and battle weary but having fun with their mates. AWM World War I expert, Peter Burness, says that two-thirds of these men would go on to be killed or wounded. “The losses were appalling. In all likelihood these images are the last photographs taken of many of these young men before they died.”

“By Jove! Australians! Those clean-shaven, sun-tanned, dust-covered men, who had come out of the hell of the Dardanelles and the burning drought of the Egyptian sands, looked wonderfully fresh in France. Youth, keen as steel, with a flash in the eyes, with an utter carelessness of any peril ahead, came riding down the street.” – Peter Gibbs, British War Correspondent, 1916

Members of a television news programme reprinted these pictures in a dark room, using traditional techniques on fibre-based paper. They saw the soldiers emerge from the darkness, and cleaned and silvered the images with selenium toning to create the silver gelatine photographs. This exhibition features 74 of these prints and 800 digital negatives, fleshed out with written diaries and letters as part of the museum’s collection. Many excerpts are from letters written to sisters, mums or sweethearts, asking for photo-mementos and news from home. It’s noticeable and slightly sad that there are so few letters written to dads.

Although the photographers did not record the names of these men, several researches have attempted to identify them through their uniforms. Other clues to their identity can be found in their epaulettes, colour patches, badges, rank insignia on uniforms, medal bars, ribbons and wound stripes worn on uniforms, and any kit or equipment they may be carrying. In many cases the battalion is known, as men for a battalion posed together, even though they knew their battalion would be disbanded.

British censorship on the Western Front meant that few such informal photographs exist outside the official record. Australia did not have its own official war photographer until 1917 and soldiers were not able (as they ewer in the Gallipoli campaign in the Dardanelles) to sneak their personal cameras into the war zone. The Thuillier collection fills a hole in the historical record. It covers many of the significant aspects of Australian involvement on the Western Front, from military life to the friendships and bonds formed between the soldiers and civilians.

“The brightest memory of the lot is that I have known real men. Men with the cover off. Men with their wonderful nobility of character, of mateship, revealed. It’s a glorious memory to have. To have known men as men... My mates! Memories of men! Memories of mates!” – Edward P. Francis Lynch, 45th Battalion, commenting after the war

Some men were members of the newly formed (1916) cyclist battalion who traded horses for bikes and pose proudly with their metal steeds. Perhaps there might be special sympathy for them from the riders of the Paris-Roubaix or Tour of Flanders as they clatter over the greasy cobbles? There are pictures of bands playing instruments and some delightful images of people shyly celebrating the armistice.

A few of the photos have snowfall as a backdrop – between 3rd and 13th January 1917 heavy snowfalls hit the region. The Commander of British unit in Vignacourt issued an order to his men: “No snowballs are to be thrown at the drivers of passing vehicles.” That they could consider such amusements is evidence that they are really still just lads. It makes it all the more poignant to consider, “It is a poor land rich with crosses. A troubled land where brave men rest forever.”

“Many things perforce remain unrecorded. The friendships, strong and clean as new steel, forged in the desert sand or the Somme mud that will savour life for us to the very end.” – Albert William Keown, 5th Battalion, commenting after the war

Friday Five: Figurative Flowers

5 Emblematic Blooms:

Remembrance poppies at the Australian War Memorial

1. Poppy – The symbol of sleep, peace and death. Sleep because of the opium extracted from them and death because of their blood-red colour. Memorable images include the magical poppy field in L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in which Dorothy are chums are almost lulled to eternal sleep, and the blood red blooms on Flanders’ fields that recall more than a million sacrifices. Lest we forget.
2. Red Rose – UK Labour Party; House of Lancaster; England Rugby; socialism; romantic love – combined with the white rose of York to become the Tudor Rose and national flower of England. With its combination of powerful scent, dramatic beauty and viscous thorns, it is beloved of playwrights and poets form Shakespeare and Robert Burns to Gertrude Stein and Poison.
3. Daffodil – Wales and the Cancer Society. As daffodils are part of the narcissus family, they also represent vanity. Appearing at spring in the Northern hemisphere, the yellow daffodil is associated with new beginnings and particularly Easter (the German word for daffodil is ‘Osterglocke’, meaning Easter bell). Thanks to William Wordsworth’s (in)famous poem, it also represents The Lake District for many.
4. Sunflower – Honesty; Happiness; Faith; Adoration; Vegan Society; Cancer Support – individually they are remarkable and together they are glorious. From the fields of gold the cyclists ride past in the Tour de France to Van Gogh’s crazy brilliant blooms or Ai Weiwei’s Tate/Unliever-commissioned sculpture of ten tonnes of porcelain seed husks, they have stunning visual impact. It was thought that the sunflower (girasol) turns its head to follow the sun until sixteenth-century romance-busting botanist John Gerard pointed out this was only true of the immature buds but the adult plants grew out of it. Despite that, this is still a beautiful flower quote from the film Calendar Girls:

   "The flowers of Yorkshire are like the women of Yorkshire. Every stage of their growth has its own beauty, but the last phase is always the most glorious. Then very quickly they all go to seed. Which makes it ironic my favourite flower isn't even indigenous to the British Isles, let alone Yorkshire. I don't think there's anything on this planet that more trumpets life that the sunflower. For me that's because of the reason behind its name. Not because it looks like the sun but because it follows the sun. During the course of the day, the head tracks the journey of the sun across the sky. A satellite dish for sunshine. Wherever light is, no matter how weak, these flowers will find it. And that's such an admirable thing. And such a lesson in life."

5. Forget-me-Not – True love; Faithfulness; Remembrance; Freemasonry; Alzheimer’s Association – Henry IV adopted the flower as a symbol of his exile in 1398. It grows madly in English spring gardens and woodlands, particularly by riverbanks as it prefers moist habitats and can tolerate partial sun and shade. I love the delicate little blooms and the subtle fragrance which develops in the evenings although they have little scent during the day, and I incorporated it into my bridal bouquet.

My Newest Favourite Thing: Letters

I’ve already told a bit of an untruth here. My love of letters isn’t a new thing; I’ve always been in their thrall. Although I’ve never liked the phone, I could always write letters to friends I saw all day at school, and often got into trouble for tearing pages out of my rough book to write notes in class to people who sat at the desk in front of me. I even once had a clandestine correspondence with someone a couple of years above me who sat at the desk in my form room on Mondays for Latin while I was elsewhere – probably in one of the labs studying chemistry. We never wrote much of any interest but it was the highlight of my day. Did I mention it was Monday? And I had chemistry?

I was reminded of my love of letters by a couple of recent events. Yesterday I was setting off for a run when the postman came round on his moped. He passed me with a smile, calling out, ‘You’re in luck; there’s nothing for you today.” I was disappointed and confused – how could a lack of letters possibly mean I was in luck? And then I remembered that a friend told me when she went away for a month, she returned home to a stack of mail – all of it bills and ‘friendly’ reminders from the bank. If people aren’t getting news from friends and family in their letterbox, no wonder they are not thrilled by the prospect of the postman ringing, no matter how many times.

My mum and I write to each other quite a lot. I really enjoy seeing her handwriting on the envelope and knowing I will receive interesting articles clipped from newspapers, and little nuggets of information from home, from which birds have been spotted in the garden, to what they (my parents, not the birds) went to see at the pictures. Mum, in turn, tells me that she feels closer to me when she receives my letters from abroad. And that has to be a good thing. I am, after all, as geographically far from her as I can be on this planet, so it is reassuring to think she can put her feet up with a cup of tea and feel as though I am near.

When I was a child my aunt and cousin were often in various exciting places around the world, from Egypt and Saudi Arabia to Portugal, California and Kwajalein. I absolutely loved receiving letters from them. It wasn’t just the colourful stamps or the distinctive blue aero-paper, but the contact I was keeping with people close to my heart. When I left home and lived in Paris I sent letters home regularly and poured my heart and soul into some of those envelopes. I hung around the mailbox in hopes of collecting reciprocal communications, and I have kept them all – I have shoeboxes full of old letters.

I don’t know if anyone has bothered to keep my letters – I was never conceited enough to keep copies, but I’m sure I could trace my development as a writer and indeed a human being through them. Recently I met A.J. (Sandy) Mackinnon at a readers and writers festival in the Snowy Mountains. He is a published author of travel anecdotes and a thoroughly charming chap. He said that he had never kept a diary of his travels; rather he always sent letters to people describing his exploits. He explained that by writing a letter, you are already interpreting events to an intended audience and moulding your words and experiences into a story that you hope will be entertaining. I found that a fascinating point.

Today is Anzac Day; a national day of remembrance in Australia and New Zealand that commemorates those citizens who have served and died in all wars, conflicts and peacekeeping operations and honours the contribution and suffering of all those who have served. I recently made a trip to the Australian War Memorial in Canberra. It’s a very impressive building full of well-presented and thought-provoking exhibitions. Many are based upon letters that combatants sent home to mothers, sisters, wives and girlfriends (hardly ever Dads, for some reason). Nearly all of them beg for more letters in return and news of home.

Despite being more ‘connected’ than ever before through electronic communication, we send fewer letters these days than ever before. I think this is sad. Letters bring comfort in a way that an email or Facebook or text message never could. If they stopped being delivered, I would miss them desperately. But if no one writes them, there will be nothing to deliver. It doesn’t take long to jot down a few lines on a card to say ‘hello’ or ‘thank you’ or ‘thinking of you’. In honour of loved ones everywhere, why not write one today?

War Artists

Some weeks ago we went to the Australian War memorial. We had been once before, but barely made it around the First World War section. It's a big museum and there is a lot to take in. This time we concentrated on the Second World War section. I have somewhat of a fascination with war art, so that was my main focus.

Munitions workers by Lyndon Dadswell

This sculpture by Lyndon Dadswell presetns the wartime labourer as a heroic figure and reflects the need for both men and women to shoulder the burden of munitions productions. The simplified forms and exaggerated proportions of the figures convey a sense of permananece and strength, reminiscent of the work of Socialist artists.

There are examples of work on show from a number of prisoners of war who turned their hand to creative arts. For example, an embroidered blanket worked by Corporal Cliff Gatenby, who was captured on Crete.

Corporal Cliff Gatenby's embroidered blanket

In Stalag 383, Gatenby covered his army-issue blanket with embroidery 'for something to do', although he had never sewn before. He began by sewing his name and number on the corner of the blanket followed by a kangaroo. Thread came from old pullovers, socks, scarves and towels. By the end of the war the blanket was entirely covered and included scenes of his camp and his service in the the Middle East.

The work below was painted at Stalag VIII-B, a German prisoner of war camp where Sergeant Arthur Nichol was captured and imprisoned.

Fight by Sergeant Arthur Nichol (1914-1965)

On 30th June. 1943, the 58th/59th Battalion launched an attack on Bobdubi Ridge, New Guinea. The fighting was fierce; the Japanese poured machine-gun fire from fortified and camouflaged positions. The battalion managed to secure a position on the ridge within two days. From there they were able to capture Old Vickers position in 28 July, driving the Japanese from the ridge. The capture of this position was a major action in the Wau-Salamaua campaign.

Taking Old Vickers position, Bobdubi Ridge, 28 July 1945 by Ivor Hele

Hele was an official war artist and his painting shows the Australians struggling up the steep slope to take the Japanese bunkers and trenches. The grey-toned ridge and cloud-covered mountain range in the distance provide a sense of altitude and the inhospitable landscape. Old Vickers was the key to the ridge, and its capture opened the way to Salamaua.

Ballet of Wind and Rain by Colin Colahan

Ballet of Wind and Rain was painted in Holland late in the war (February 1945) when Colahan travelled into recently-liberated regions of war-torn Europe. In this painting the artist has captured a group of four airmen, moving across an airfield, during a fleeting moment. Colahan's biographer, Garry Kinnane, wrote, 'the feeling of space and the elements - the wind, rain and light playing on the bodies of the airmen, who are positioned like a chorus line - make a lyrical and memorable arabesque out of an otherwise mundane event.'

The unusual title of the work refers both to the choreography of the figures and the theatricality of the composition. The idea that a ballet was created through the colour, movement and atmospheric effects of the scene as it presented itself to the eye, recalled the use of  musical terms such as 'symphony', 'arrangement' and 'harmony' in the titles of a number of paintings by Whistler. Clearly Colahan was more interested in capturing the human drama posed by this wartime subject, than in painting major military events.

Soldier by Russell Drysdale

Albury Station became a notable source of inspiration for Russell Drysdale. As the intersection where the railway lines changed gauge between Victoria and New South Wales, it became an important stopover for Australian servicemen. Troops were often stranded there for hours, and Drysdale observed them huddled in groups, sleeping or chatting to one another. Soldier captures the loneliess and uncertainty of a tired soldier waiting for the train to take him to his next posting.

I am particularly interested in the female official war artists and the subject matter they recorded. They attempted to present Australia at war as a nation including people from different genders and backgrounds, bestowing importance onto otherwise ordinary sitters.

WAAAF Cook (Corporal Joan Whipp) by Nora Heysen

In this portrait of Corporal Joan Beatrice Whipp, the cook from the Women's Auxillary Australian Air Force is preparing bully beef. A comparison between the initial drawing of WAAAF Corporal Whipp and the finished painting shoews how Nora Heysen has exaggerated the cook's powerfully built arms and increased her relative size within the picture to make her a more imposing presence.

Whereas the drawing probably captures what Heysen remembers of her character - 'she was such a jolly person and she got on very well with the men and she was such a good cook' - on the painting she is depicted as serious and even formidable. Heysen had previously ben censured for not making her war art stern enough.

Morning after night shift by Dore Hawthorne

Morning after night shift is one of a series of 40 works by Dore Hawthorne titles 'Factory Folk'. The series depicts life and work at the Lithgow Small Arms Factory where the artists worked from 1942 to 1945 assembling Breen light machine guns. Hawthorne signed each painting in the series with the pseudonym 'Brendorah' - a conflation of her name and the weapon she made in the factory.

A friend of hers, Nancy Hall, wrote, 'Dore felt the ugliness of materialism and pollution as keenly as she felt everything that was fine and beautiful, and much of her painting and writing was a great cry of protest.'

No. 1 projectile shop (Commonwealth Ordnance Factory, Maribyrnong) by Sybil Craig

Sybil Craig's colourful and impressionistic work captures the activity of women operating electric lathes to perform single tasks on 18- or 25- pounder shells before these are passed on to the next operator. To protect them form the machines and the dirt they wore overalls and snoods over their hair.

With the escalation of the war and much of the male workforce away fighting, women replaced men in the factories. As process workers they were trained for specific operations that were often dangerous and onerous. The war affected everyone, and it's good to see this fully represented.