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From Ballarat & District in the Great War

876 Private (Pte) Walter James Morris, 29nd Battalion

Whenever I begin sifting through information to form a story around the life of one of our servicemen or women, I never know what I may find. Some lived extraordinary lives of great achievements, others of quiet ordinariness that was nevertheless forever marked by their wartime experiences. Many also had their childhoods shaped by dreadful family tragedies – horrendous accidents, violent murders, or the visitation of illnesses, thankfully almost unheard of today, that made grief and loss a daily reminder of life’s fragility. Whatever I find it is always unique.

Walter James Morris was one of those who began his life under a terrible cloud. Born at Prahran on 26 September 1897, he was the youngest of four children born to William Morris and Agnes Morrison Trewhella. Just five days before his birth, Walter’s father took his own life when in the grip of what was then termed ‘religious mania.’ For Aggie Morris the heartbreak must have been almost unbearable.
It appears that William Morris had suffered from mental illness for some considerable time. To all intents, he was living a good life: he had secured a good position as an upholsterer; he and Aggie were expecting their first child and were known to be blissfully happy together. But, on 8 October 1886, William attempted suicide for the first time. After cutting his throat and nearly bleeding to death, it was not expected that he would recover.
Clearly the doctors were wrong.

Their first daughter, Gwendoline May, was born on 26 January 1887. Their first son, William Theophilus, was born two years later, and a second daughter, Mabel Florence, in 1892. Seemingly William had been well throughout this period. However, as the birth of their fourth child approached, he started to regress and the fixation on religion resurfaced.

On 21 September 1897, William left for work at Buckley and Nunn in Bourke Street as usual. His workmate, Emanuel Behnfaute, later said he had noticed a change in William, that he was doing his upholstering ‘a little automatically.’
During the lunch break, William retreated to an upstairs room, and, knowing that no-one would return there for some time, he took a piece of upholstery cord and hanged himself. In his pocket was a letter to his young wife.

‘…Aggie,— I have thought out all that you said this morning, and it is no use trying to shut out the thought of there being a God from one's mind. It seems very clear to me that as long as I live you will; and what does that mean? You are so faithful and true you would stick to me, and I know that would be only to live a life of misery, as that is all mine could ever be, as there is no forgiveness for me, and man cannot live by bread alone. 1 cannot get any spiritual bread.
I know that my action will most likely give you such a shock that you will die, but it will be to a life of glory. I cannot teach my children any good, because there is nothing good in me. It's not delusions, but a stern reality, I am sorry to have to say. Seven months now, and growing worse every day, but growing stronger physically. God called me a hypocrite. I have been one ever since…’
The letter was unsigned.
Aggie did not die from the shock, but it probably brought on the birth of their son, Walter, earlier than anticipated.
When the baby was old enough to travel, Aggie returned to her family home in Simpson Street, Buninyong, where she herself had been born.
It is difficult to image what it was like for Aggie, the grief, the isolation, the unwarranted shame, not to mention the difficulties in explaining William’s death to their children. Especially when Walter reached an age when he was able to articulate such questions. She certainly appears to have handled the raising of her four young children exceptionally well.

Walter was eventually enrolled at the Buninyong State School, also in Simpson Street, which was only a very short walk from home for the little boy. He completed his elementary education at the school.
Given the family situation, it is possible that his Cornish grandfather, Theophilus Trewhella, assumed the role of father figure to young Walter. Most of the Trewhella men were gardeners, so it is likely that Walter would have learned the basics from old Theophilus. Walter was only 14 when his grandfather died on 24 January 1912.

In 1911, the Australian Government introduced a compulsory training scheme for military cadets. Walter fell into the age group that required him to join the ranks of Senior Cadets. Apparently, he took to this life particularly well and, in June 1914, it was announced that he had been promoted to the rank of corporal in the Senior Cadets of J Company with the 70th Australian Infantry Regiment.
When Walter wasn’t drilling with the cadets, he was working as a brass fitter – although he had not received an apprenticeship, and on Sundays he joined his mother and older siblings at the Buninyong Presbyterian Church.

Determined to do his bit, despite being underage, Walter Morris presented himself at the Ballarat Recruiting Depot on 8 July 1915. Although he was actually two months off his 18th birthday, Walter was able to convince the recruitment sergeant that there was no issue regarding his age. He did, however, require his mother’s permission to enlist.

Dr F. B. Crawford carried out the standard military examination for the 1st Australian Imperial Force on the same day. In completing the necessary paperwork, he noted that Walter was 5-feet 4½-inches tall, weighed 9-stone 10-pounds and had an average chest measurement of 31 to 34½-inches. He had a fair complexion, with blue eyes and brown hair.

Having successfully “passed the doctor”, Walter was then faced with the prospect of telling his mother. What Aggie’s reaction was we can only imagine, but faced with her youngest son’s earnest entreaty, it seems she was left with no alternative. She signed her consent on 14 July. The same day, Walter returned his equipment to the Drill Hall for the 70th Regiment.

Less than a week later, Walter entered the Seymour Depot and was posted to the 60th Training Company. His life as an Australian soldier had begun.

While he was at Seymour, Walter had his portrait taken by the Darge Photographic Company. His personality appears clearly in the photograph – as does his youth.

On 12 August, Walter received his formal posting to C Company of the 29th Infantry Battalion at the Broadmeadows Camp. It was a further three months before he finally embarked for Egypt, sailing from Melbourne on 10 November.

The troopship Ascanius docked at Suez on 7 December, and although Walter didn’t make it to Gallipoli, he had earned the right to the 1914-1915 Star campaign medal as a result of entering the war zone before the year expired.
When Walter became ill with quinsy – a term used to describe a painful peritonsillar abscess accompanied by fever – he was admitted to the 8th Field Ambulance at Serapeum on 17 January 1916.

After recovering, Walter returned to his unit and continued training on the sands around Cairo. No doubt he also took part in the usual rounds of sightseeing, enjoying visits to the Pyramids and the Sphinx, camel rides and souvenir hunting. It must have seemed a vibrant, exotic canvas for the 18 year-old.

On the 15 June, the men of the 29th Battalion boarded a train for Alexandria where, the following day, they were loaded onboard the transport Tunisian. The voyage to Marseilles passed entirely without incident and the troops disembarked in the wee small hours of 24 June. They immediately entrained for Hazebrouck in Northern France.

Walter Morris had his first experience of major battle at Fromelles on 19 July 1916. As was noted by one member of the 29th, ‘…the novelty of being a soldier wore off in about five seconds, it was like a bloody butcher's shop…’

The battle was so disastrous the true nature of the debacle was covered up for many years and the village of Fromelles was largely unknown in Australia – too many families were led to believe that their loved ones were killed at the tiny village of Fleurbaix, which was already behind their own lines.

Although the 29th Battalion had not suffered as severely as other units involved in the Battle of Fromelles, the men were not involved in any major offensive role for the remainder of the year.
As the German Army withdrew to the Hindenburg Line in early 1917 and the British Front was advanced accordingly, several counter-attacks were launched by the enemy. The 29th was involved in defeating an attack at Beaumetz on 23 March. Consequently, the battalion was held out of the line during the heavy fighting of the First Battle of Bullecourt, but returned to the fighting for the Second Battle during May.

Walter had fought throughout these long months and was glad of a leave pass that saw him away from the firing line during late June. He was soon back with his unit, which was preparing for deployment during the Third Battle of Ypres.
The 29th Battalion played a major role in the second of the “bite and hold” battles at Polygon Wood on 26 September.

As the Allied push continued on towards Passchendaele, the 29th Battalion were employed in various parts of the line. During October they were near Molenaarelsthoek, a region to the south of Zonnebeke. Young Walter Morris came to the attention of his commanding officer as he performed his duties as a battalion runner. From 9 to 13 October, Walter carried his messages through without fail, despite being blown over by shell blasts on three occasions. Although he was badly shaken, Walter remained on duty.
‘…During this period there was a shortage of runners and telephonic communication was uncertain, but Morris did the work of two runners in a most gallant manner, and on several occasions passing through heavy enemy artillery barrages…’

On 20 November it was announced in Routine Orders that Walter had been decorated with the Military Medal for his courage – one of just 97 Military Medals awarded to men of the 29th Battalion.
When Aggie Morris received news of her son’s decoration in January 1918, it was announced via the following article in the Ballarat Star newspaper.

BUNINYONG.
LOCAL SOLDIER DECORATED.
The many friends of Mrs Morris, Simpson street, will be glad to know that her youngest son, Walter, who is now on active service in France with the AIF as a despatch runner, has been decorated by General Birdwood for conspicuous bravery on the field. The young soldier merely wrote to his mother and said that he had been decorated by General Birdwood early in November, and would send the ribbon on later.
Unlike many battalions of the AIF that saw extensive action during the German Spring Offensive of 1918, the 29th, as part of the 5th Australian Division, was in reserve for much of the time. So quiet in fact that Walter was given an extended three weeks leave to England.

‘…When the Allies took to the offensive again, the 29th fought in a minor attack at Morlancourt on 29 July, and then in August and September took part in the great advance that followed the battle of Amiens. The 29th fought its last major action in September when the 5th and 3rd Australian Divisions, and two American divisions attacked the Hindenburg Line across the top of the 6-kilometre-long St Quentin Canal tunnel; the canal was a major obstacle in the German defensive scheme. The offensive of 1918, however, had strained the AIF almost to breaking point. On 12 October the 29th Battalion was disbanded to provide reinforcements for other 8th Brigade units…’

With the disbanding of his unit, Walter was transferred to the 32nd Battalion. Ultimately, however, the war was over for the exhausted Australian units.

On 14 February 1919, Walter returned to England for the last time, starting preparations for a return to Australia. Two months later he boarded the transport Wyreema at the Liverpool docks to begin the voyage home.

Back home in Buninyong, Walter was able to resume his pre-war occupation. He was still living in Simpson Street when, in 1922, he married local girl, Annie May McKenzie. The war had touched Annie’s family in the most devastating way – her older brother, Donald David McKenzie, who served with the 39th Battalion, had been killed in action on 15 July 1918.
The young couple initially made their home at 518 Ascot Street south in Ballarat, and Walter found work as a brass finisher in one of the local foundries.

During the middle years of the 1920’s, Walter chose to pursue a different line of work in a new city. They moved to Warrnambool and he took over as manager of a grocery store at 117 Liebig Street.

A second move to St Kilda West in the early 1930’s was to be more permanent. Once again Walter was running a grocery store in Cecil Street, and he and Annie lived at 94 Wellington Street. By this time the couple had welcomed the birth of their two children – John McKenzie and Maureen Annette.

On 6 January 1932, Walter and his store assistant were left traumatised when the grocery store was the target of an armed robbery. Two men, John White and James Muir, demanded the contents of the till at gunpoint, but escaped with just £2. Clearly the advent of the Great Depression had created a lot of desperate people.

With the outbreak of World War II, Walter did not hesitate to enlist once again – this time his age was definitely on his side. He enlisted in Melbourne on 3 October 1939 and served with the 12th Garrison Battalion until 16 February 1944, holding the rank of sergeant.

In the years after the end of the war, Walter and Annie moved to Kelburn Street in Caulfield West. Walter listed his occupation as soldier, but it is not known at this point what role he actually held.

Walter Morris died on 9 April 1967. He was outlived by his wife, Annie, by 23-years.

Compiled by Evan Evans