Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

From Ballarat & District in the Great War

Lt Robert Watson MARSHALL MM

The inspiration for a particular story can come from anywhere and usually catches me by surprise. In this case it began with just one word: Bungeeltap. Now, over the last 24-years I have learned the names of so many places around the district, places long lost to time and the societal changes and the consequential population shift. But Bungeeltap was entirely new – as was the story of Bob Marshall. But more on Bungeeltap later…

When Robert Watson Marshall came into the world at Kensington (a Melbourne suburb near Flemington Racecourse) on 30 July 1887, he was to be the last of nine children born to the grandly named Theophilus Smith Marshall and his wife, Margaret Fraser.
Both lines of Bob Marshall’s family were Scottish – his father was from the small fishing village of Greenock in Renfrewshire, whilst his mother was born in the tiny coal-mining village, Auchterderran in central Fife. Her family, however, were particularly connected to Newburgh, a town on the River Tay.

From an ancestral standpoint, these Scottish families had links to two of the oldest clans in the country. Clan Marshall had a rich and distinguished history dating back over 800 years. The name itself is derived from two Old English words that combined mean “border servant,” indicating that Clan Marshall was from the border lands between Scotland and England. Whilst the Frasers had a reputation of being one of the most formidable of all Scottish clans – as their clan motto, Je Suis Prest (I am ready) would suggest.

The need for labour in the Australian colonies coincided with a time of ‘severe destitution in Scotland.’ Alexander Fraser was working as a low-paid agricultural labourer at Auchterderran when he was offered the chance of assisted immigration to Victoria, along with his wife, Isabella (nee Keddie) and their four daughters – Agnes, Janet, Isabella and Margaret (who was then just 3-years-old). Their sponsor appears to have been former Newburgh resident (successful building contractor and later Lord Mayor of Melbourne), Samuel Amess. They sailed from Liverpool onboard the new three-masted sailing ship, Genghis Khan, reaching Melbourne on 1 July 1853. For all onboard, the voyage had been an experience in misery. Storms lashed the ship (the worst the ship’s captain had ever seen) causing significant damage and dowsing the passengers, most who were miserably ill with seasickness. Contagious illnesses also ran rampant through the confined spaces, causing thirty deaths – many of them small, malnourished Scottish children.

However, this proved to be a wonderful new beginning for Alexander Fraser and his family. They soon became established in the Moorabool district known as Elaine Station, with Alexander farming the property known as Elaine Station.

The death of Theophilus Smith Marshall senior in May 1851 created deep uncertainty for his widow and their eight young children. He had been a journeyman cabinetmaker by trade and four of his sons, including young Theo, were to follow in his footsteps. When the four brothers, Dugald, William, Theo and the youngest, Walter, came to Australia, they paid their own way for the trip onboard the sailing ship Africa. William was listed as a cabinetmaker, whilst the other three gave their trade as joiners and carpenters. They sailed from Liverpool and arrived in Melbourne on 17 August 1858.

Theo seems to have hit the ground running – he took up the new-fangled sport of Australian Rules football. He started playing with the Emerald Hill Club around 1859, before joining the Royal Park team in 1863. In 1861, he captained “The World” team in a much-vaunted match against “The Natives” – Australian born players referred to as the “Cornstalks and Gumsuckers.” But it was his years as a centre with the Carlton Football Club that were to secure Theo’s reputation.

‘As a footballer, in the early days of the celebrated Carlton Club, he had few equals, being wonderfully fast on his feet, and considered at that time about the surest and best mark in Melbourne…’
Theo co-captained the Blues in the 1866 season. He would later be vice-president of the club.

In 1867, Theo left for New Zealand, attracted by the Otago gold rush. The small village of Charleston sprang up almost overnight as men swarmed the area mining for gold and Theo spent time there in an attempt to make his fortune.

On returning to Victoria, Theo traded in his carpentry tools for classroom text books, gaining a position with the Victorian Education Department. His first major appointment was as head teacher to the Chiltern State School in the northeast of the State in 1871.

He immediately joined the Chiltern Fire Brigade, quickly being made captain, which was to be a stepping-stone to higher appointment with the Country Fire Brigade Board. He also captained the local football team.

On 16 August 1872, Reverend John Coulthard Sabine, vicar of St Paul’s Anglican Church at Chiltern, celebrated the marriage of Theo Marshall to Margaret Fraser. How and when the pair met remains a mystery…

At the beginning of 1881, it was announced that Theo Marshall was leaving Chiltern. He had been appointed as head teacher to the Kensington State School, a position he was to hold until 1894. Theo, who was a first-class marksman, took a particular interest in the school cadets. Consequently, many a lad who was educated at Kensington learned to shoot because of Theo Marshall. One of the most sought after cadet trophies was the Sargood Shield for rifle shooting. Theo coached the Kensington school team that eventually won the competition three times (with Theo’s three eldest sons all representing in the winning teams), thus gaining possession of the shield.
In 1884, Theo took on the role of honorary secretary of the Victorian Football Association. His work in this position highlighted his ability to positively influence all areas of the game.

‘…it may be accepted as a fact absolutely incontrovertible that no man living or dead, of the past or present, ever did more-if as much for the advancement, improvement, and popularity of the Australian game of football than Mr. T. S. Marshall…’
His influence on our modern game was being recognised as early as 1908:

‘…He was at all times not only a champion of good, clean, manly sport, but an intelligent and practical reformer. No man fought more honestly, or with more pertinacity, to check professional-amateurism, and the migration of players, and to him personally belongs the credit of introducing payment of umpires, appointment of timekeepers, changing ends at the close of each quarter, deciding matches by points, and the initiation of inter-colonial conferences. Furthermore, it may surprise many who have been more recently associated with the game to know that Mr. Marshall advocated the appointment of boundary umpires fully 16 or 17 years ago. At that period be was ahead of the times, but he has lived to see the introduction of boundary umpires recognised as one of the most satisfactory subsequent innovations which have from time to time been made. As surely as H. C. A. Harrison is entitled to the distinction of being known as The Father of The Game, so surely should T. S. Marshall be recognised as its godfather, and in Victoria assuredly its most practical, earnest, and energetic guide, philosopher, and friend…’

Theo, Margaret and their six young children made their home in Kalimna Street, Essendon. They named their house Ardgowan – a romantic reference to Ardgowan House near Greenock in Scotland. And, although she was seemingly in the background, Margaret had a ‘happy, loving way’ that complimented her energetic, indefatigable husband.

The arrival of two further children, including Bob, completed this branch of the Marshall family. Their deeply loyal connection to family naming traditions saw the repetition of appellations from previous generations, including surnames. Bob was named for his great-grandfather, Robert Marshall, who came from the village of Dunning, in Perthshire; but, with the incompleteness of Scottish records, the origins of his middle name of Watson remains a unknown.

Around the same time, Theo became captain of the Kensington Fire Brigade and chairman of the Metropolitan Fire Brigades. When Richard Catt, captain of the Hotham Municipal Brigade, made disparaging remarks about Theo Marshall in evidence to the Fire Brigade Commission of 1885, the Chiltern Shire Secretary, John Bennett Williamson, penned a letter in their former captain’s defence. The letter was co-signed by several prominent members of the Chiltern community.

‘…Having read the reports of the Parliamentary Committee on the working of the Fire Brigades, I, as one of the many who were acquainted with your career as tile captain of the Chiltern Fire Brigade, have noticed with feelings of much indignation the evidence given by Mr. Catt, in which he affirms that you have had no experience as a fireman &c., This assertion will surely be taken for what it is worth, and that is very little; for how can Mr. Catt know anything of you as a fireman prior to your residence at Kensington? We, in Chiltern, had ten years' experience of you as a fireman, and as a clever and capable captain.

Chiltern, for a town of its size, has, I suppose, suffered more from destructive fires than most up-country towns, and, but for the pluck of its firemen, it would have suffered to an extent, which it is pleasant to contemplate.

You, and the men under your control, on the occasion of three of the largest fires, saved from destruction blocks of buildings, the burning of which would have caused the loss of many additional thousands of pounds to the residents and the insurance offices. In these destructive fires, when the heat was so intense, that the buildings on the opposite side of the street caught fire, nothing but the activity, coolness, and pluck displayed by the Chiltern brigade, and especially by yourself as captain, could have prevented a large portion of the town from being laid low. I remember at two of the fires, especially Bancock's, and Bushell's, how, with only one stream of water, and that a weak one, you directed your men to the best points of attack, and how courageously you faced the intense heat, while at every opportunity you kept a watch upon the adjoining buildings and directed buckets and wet blankets to be so used and disposed as to prevent the spreading of the fire. No experience at fires! I think some of the metropolitan firemen could they have been here on the occasions I have alluded to would have found it as warm and difficult a job to fight the flames as they have found it at some of the big fires in their experience for in a town where the main pipe is only four inches and the pressure small the management of the branch is but a small part of the work.

The classing of you as 'no fireman,' 'with no knowledge of brigade work' seems almost too absurd to merit a reply. However, your numerous friends in Chiltern hold you in vivid remembrance as the organiser of our brigade, the painstaking improver of our apparatus, and as good, cool, and courageous a captain as we would wish to have when the fire fiend is abroad. I only wish that the evidence of some of the people here who have witnessed your pluck at fires could be taken, and the opportunity given of throwing Mr. Catt's words back in his teeth. To represent you as standing looking on at a fire seems too absurd to those who know you. You simply couldn't do it. Well directed energy, and cool judgment seem to be characteristic of you whether at fires or in other emergencies where such qualities are most wanted.

I shall say no more, but only express the hope that the voluntary services you are always ready to give for the benefit of your fellow townsmen may be appreciated as they deserve to be, and that the evidence of Mr. Catt will, instead of injuring your reputation as a fireman, have the effect of placing you higher in the esteem of those with whom you are associated.

I am, dear sir, yours truly,
J. B. WILLIAMSON,
Secretary of the Shire of Chiltern.

We thoroughly endorse the above remarks of Mr. Williamson, and have much pleasure in testifying to the ability, courage, and good judgment Mr. Marshall at all times displayed during the 10 years he held the position of captain of the Chiltern Fire Brigade.

CHARLES BUSHELL
President Shire of Chiltern.
ANDREW KILGOUR, J.P., Chiltern.
B. J. BARTLEY, J.P., Chiltern.
D. SEXTON, Captain Chiltern F.B.,
late lieutenant under Capt. Marshall…’

Theo Marshall would retire from teaching in 1894 and begin a new career as the Chief Officer of the Country Fire Brigades. He also maintained his interest in shooting, and was secretary of the Victorian Rifle Association. When the Victorian team travelled to Bisley in England to compete for the Kolapore Cup in July 1897, Theo went as captain and manager. He filled the same roles with the Commonwealth Bisley team in 1901.

At this point, many may be wondering why Theo Marshall has taken up such a large part of the story of his son, Bob. However, I feel that detailing the life of such a remarkable father (described by many as ‘a grand man’) helps to illustrate the important influence he was to have over the character of his entire family.
Bob Marshall, like all children, was absorbing everything around him like a sponge. He began his education at the Kensington State School just as his father’s tenure as head teacher was coming to an end. In 1903, he was enrolled at Melbourne’s Scotch College, then under the headship of Mr Alexander Morrison. Mr William Littlejohn took over as principal during Bob’s second year at the school, following Morrison’s death on 31 May 1903. Littlejohn was to earn the reputation as ‘arguably Scotch’s greatest principal,’ and his wholehearted investment of ‘all his energy, passion and creativity’ was to have an important impact on the development of young Bob Marshall as he approached manhood. These were important formative years and, no doubt, the death of his older brother, Walter Crawford Marshall, at Hepburn on 2 February 1904, also played its part.

Upon leaving school it became apparent that another family influence was to play a part in Bob Marshall’s future. His maternal grandfather, Alexander Fraser, had died two years before Bob’s birth, but his reputation as a farmer was very much a part of family folklore. At the time of his death, he was farming a 200-acre property at Narracan in Gippsland, south of the town of Moe. His children were all predominantly farmers – or married to farmers.

On 18 November 1910, the Lindisfern Estate, 10-miles from Ballan, was offered for sale. At the beginning of 1911, it was announced that the 6137-acre property was being subdivided into 17 lots for closer settlement, each lot varying from 159 to 1800 acres. Theo Marshall purchased a small block of 114-acres and young Bob took over the property as manager.

His first foray into farming was through livestock, and he ran a mixture of crossbred, comeback and merino sheep. He quickly showed that he had inherited a degree of farming instinct from his forebears and by 1913 he had increased his holdings (as a portion of the Lindisfern Estate subdivision) to 1115-acres and named his property Craigie Park.

It was announced in November of that year, that Bob had instructed the company of L. A. Fairburn to place the property up for sale by auction. The property then comprised 675-acres known as “Racecourse,” which was divided into six fenced paddocks, and the "Lower Paddock," of 440-acres situated on the main Geelong road, within 11 miles of Ballan and Meredith Railway Stations, near to Mount Wallace.

Bob had improved the property by using rabbit-proof fencing around the boundary, extending two large dams and building a weatherboard cottage, stables and shedding. Along with the sheep, he had also set up 210-acres for cropping, growing wheat, oats, barley and potatoes that performed particularly well in the rich, black local soil.

The property was noted for its clean wool growing qualities, and Bob was very proud that his land was ‘absolutely free from rabbits.’

It appears that the proposed sale was abandoned, but in March 1914, it was announced that Bob had leased a portion of the property (900-acres) to Mr Molesworth R. Greene, a grazier from Rowsley near Bacchus Marsh.

Like his father, Bob spread his time across multiple interests. He was an active committee member of the Ballan and Pentland Hills Agricultural & Pastoral Society; he also served on the committee of the Ballan Jockey Club and was a patron of the Mount Wallace Football Club.

Bob took particular enjoyment from his performances with the Ballan Amateur Dramatic Society.

It seems that his father also influenced this love of performing – when he was head teacher at Kensington, Theo had devoted ‘much time’ to rehearsals for school concerts.

When the society gathered on 4 September 1914 for a performance in aid of the Ballan Caledonian Park, the atmosphere was charged with a different sentiment – war was now all that people were talking about. So, when Bob gave a performance of C. J. Dennis’ “The Austral-aise” (first published in The Bulletin in 1912) it brought the house down. The version he presented, referred to as ‘the new Australian national anthem,’ had been revised by Robert Blatchford in the London “Weekly Despatch” and seemed most appropriate. It went as follows,

‘…Fellers of Australier,
Blokes an' coves an' coots,
Shift your— carcases,
Move yer— boots.
Gird yer— loins up,
Get yer — — gun,
Set the— enemy,
An' watch the— run.
Chorus:
Get a ——move on,
Have some ——sense;
Learn the—— art of
Self de—— fence.

This song has evidently been severely handled by the Censor, who seems to have struck out all the military words. The "New Statesman" confesses itself quite unable to reconstruct the song. But as I have studied Shakespeare and the musical glasses I mean to mend that song if I sprain my ankle or catch the influenza in the process.

Fellers of Australier,
Blokes an' coves an' coots,
Shift your undrilled carcases,
Move your Army boots.
Gird your khaki loins up,
Get your Metford gun,
Set the cultured enemy,
And watch the blonde beasts run.
Chorus:
Get a forward move on,
Have some equine sense;
Learn the Tommy's art of
Self de home defence.

The last line of the refrain is a bit of a poser, I admit, but the rest is obvious…’

It was noted that there was ‘no "blooming" doubt about it catching on and causing considerable amusement.’ Bob had to respond to an ‘enthusiastic encore.’

Just three days after Bob’s performance, Alex Marshall became the first of the brothers to volunteer – he enlisted at Blackboy Hill Camp on 7 September 1914. He sailed with the First Contingent on 26 October with the original 11th Infantry Battalion.

Despite the war footing, Bob’s life continued much as it had before. At the New Year meeting of the Morrisons and Elaine Race Club held at Meredith on 16 January 1915 (with profits to the Red Cross fund) Bob joined in the activities. He came second in the Handicap Pony Race (over four furlongs) and 3rd in the Novelty Pony Race (also over 4 furlongs) on his mare, Wendy.

A Friday night concert and ball in aid of the Ballan Red Cross Society was held at the Ballan Mechanics’ Institute on 22 January 1915. The weather was favourable and the attendance by residents from around the district was ‘splendid’. The concert was ‘a huge success,’ with a profit for the evening of £28. However, Bob suffered every performer’s nightmare when in the middle of a recitation, he forgot the words, ‘but made amends by giving one of his "old-timers" in excellent style.’

The realities of war were brought closer to home when a letter from Alex Marshall reached the family.
‘…May 9th Hospital Ship "Seang Bee,"
Aegean Sea, off Gallipoli.

Long before this reaches you the whole of Australia will know of our doings and the stirring events that have taken place during the past fortnight in Gallipoli Peninsula. I have not the time or the space—paper is a scarce commodity—to describe everything that has occurred since leaving Mena camp on February 28th. The 3rd Brigade left Alexandra on March 3rd, the 11th Battalion on board the SS "Suffolk," and we steered a northward course across the Levant and through the Archipelago. The Island of Lemnos, which proved to be our destination, possesses a magnificent harbour, and, soon after our arrival, vessels of all kinds continued to come in; transports and warships, including the super Dreadnought, "Queen Elizabeth," submarines, sea planes, etc., the whole presenting a glorious spectacle. I shall now have to move on to April 23rd, nothing of great importance having taken place in the interim.

Colonel Johnston spoke to the 11th Battalion on board the "Suffolk," and described the serious work that we had to do. The 3rd Brigade was to land first, and form the covering party to the rest of the Division and other troops. "A" and "C" were chosen to actually make the first landing, and these two companies were transferred to the battleship "London," and away we steamed for the Dardanelles, about 40 miles distant. We were treated like princes on board the "London," the meals being really excellent.

With quiet organisation the great British fleet formed up in the darkness. At 2 a.m. on Sunday, April 25th, we clambered over the "London's" sides, and set out on our desperate enterprise, each man being served with a tot of rum before starting. After some delay, the lines of boats—some six or seven—towed by launches, started off for the shore. Every man
felt the seriousness of the venture, and absolute silence prevailed. The lines kept almost perfect order and distance, and, looking back, it was very comforting to see the great grey warships following us up. I was seated in the bows of the leading boat in our line, which was the second from the left. The boats, when they approached the shore, steered a course northward and parallel with it.

I was just thinking there was to be no opposition, and was speculating as to which line of boats would reach the shore first, when a single shot was fired from the land. A short pause, and then the bullets began to fly around us. We crouched low in the boat, and as I pressed against the side I could feel and hear the bullets glancing off the woodwork.

Meantime the engines had stopped, and our men kept on rowing, encouraged by the cheery remarks of the "London's" Jacks—"Pull up, lads;" "They can't shoot;" "They'll never hit us," etc. A machine gun on the hill pumped lead into the boats on our right, but it was answered instantly by one on board the launch next to ours, and it was at once silenced. When our machine gun spoke it would have done you good to hear the Australian yell. Suddenly we grounded—"Jump out, lads'" came the order.

We were weighted down with packs, equipment:, rifle and ammunition, the whole weighing close upon 80lbs, and this weight being so unwieldy, many of the men were completely submerged when they dropped over the side. I was about to make a jump for it when a Jack Tar caught hold of me, and, skilfully pushing the landing board out with his other hand, assisted me on to it. I slid down in record time and dropped into the water, which was up to my waist. We rushed across the bench, took our packs off, and lay down behind them, the bullets tearing the ground and bushes all around us, but I did not see anybody hit.

Our plans had miscarried somewhat, officers and men of our two companies were all mixed up. I could see it was going to be a soldiers' day, and so it proved. With one accord, all fixed bayonets and charged the hill—a terribly rough and steep one—the men having to pause several times to regain breath; but with dreadful yells we rushed on, cleared the trenches, and captured the machine gun. One of the first to fall was Capt Annear—our second in command—who was shot dead as soon as he reached the summit, Lieut Macdonald being wounded in the shoulder at the same time.

Day was now breaking, and from our position we could see a long way. A formidable fort about a mile to the south of our landing spot began to talk, but the "Bacchante," moving close inshore, engaged at once, and we were interested spectators of this duel, which did not last long, the "Bacchante" proving the victor.
A casual look through the glasses at this fort and surroundings showed us what elaborate preparations the enemy had made for our reception. Merciful providence and the navy co-operated to guide us to a safer spot, for, had we landed a mile further south, I am quite sure not a man of us would have been left. Wire entanglements that would almost imprison a small bird cover the hill and beach and stretch far out under the water, whilst concealed gun positions, the exact sites of which have not yet been ascertained, could search the water and beach to a wide radius.

Those of our men who had trended to the right were soon to climb the hill across the valley parallel with ours, and a brisk firing ensued. We occupied the trenches which had been evacuated by the enemy. Meanwhile troops were being landed as quickly us possible; one boat-load, owing to some blunder, got away too far to the left, and they were killed almost to a man.

We had a bird's eye view of many little plucky acts that will probably never be recorded. The enemy brought up reinforcements quicker than we could land ours, and we were soon under a tremendous fire. Of course, they had the range of our trenches to a nicety, and men were being hit all round.

Later on they directed shrapnel fire on us—a terrifying ordeal—lasting until after sunset. We crouched low in the shallow trenches, while the infernal stuff dropped on both sides of us, but, not once, thank Heaven, actually into the trench. As soon as darkness began to set in all hands got to work deepening the trench. When the Turks noticed the picks and shovels going and the dirt flying, the rifle fire increased to such a cruel extent that we had to knock off.

The night was bitterly cold, with a slight rain falling, and, as we had left our packs and greatcoats on the beach, we huddled together for warmth. It will give you some idea of the mixture when I tell you that a New South Welshmen and I slept on bags close together. I placed a bag across my knees, and a New Zealand officer slept with his head under it.

Next day we walked along the communicating trenches to the beach, one of our men being wounded on the way down. In the afternoon Capt Leave took us up to the position on the right which had been recaptured by us, but we spent a quiet night.
Next day there was warm work to be done, and we were ordered up to the left. The company again became broken up. I found myself in a hot corner with only two of our men, some New ZeaIanders and South Australians. At sunset a New South Wales officer sent word to us that we were to act as reinforcements to the firing line just in front. Three times we were called upon as a bayonet charge was to take place, but Jack Turk would not oblige. The fight was very fierce just here, wounded and dead lying about the trenches. Our water bottles had run out, so about 10 o'clock next day (Wednesday, 28th) three of us volunteered to climb down to the stream at the bottom of the long valley in the rear and obtain water. We had to pass through a "danger zone," and had only gone about 15 yards, when one man was struck in the leg, and we had to carry him back.

Late in the afternoon I got down to the track, and I there learnt that the 11th Battalion were wanted on the beach to reform up. I went on, and found my company ("C"), a large number missing. We had a whole day's spell next day. Since then it had been continuous fighting and spelling in and out of the trenches, somewhat hard and monotonous work, but we still hold the ground we have taken. This could never have been done but for the assistance of the navy, their gun-fire being wonderful, especially "Lizzie's," as the "Queen Elizabeth" is familiarly called. The airmen also must not be overlooked, they flew over the field of operations and directed the naval gun-fire, so that nearly all the enemy's big guns about here have been put out of action.

It is a fortnight to-day since we landed, and I don't know how or when this will reach you. Last Wednesday I felt very ill and saw the doctor, and he ordered me down to the beach (4th Ambulance Hospital). A bad attack of dysentery, brought on by drinking the creek water. While I was lying in the hospital tent a shrapnel burst in front of the opening, and two men were hit. The doctor on the beach sent me with a batch to the s.s. "Lutzon," a German prize now transformed into a hospital ship, with Col. Ryan in charge. I remained there overnight, but as surgical cases only are to be treated on the "Lutzon" I came on to the "Seang Bee," where I am very comfortable indeed.

Our training at Blackboy (W.A.), Mena, and Lemnos was only child's play as compared with the real thing. The hard climbing, the heavy loads, and the rough food were all very trying, but the bad water was worst of all, and that got me. However, after a spell, I am going to have another try.

I am scribbling this under difficulties, and will have to trust to luck to get it through. I believe the troops were allowed to cable to friends, but we received notice of that too late. An official post also closed while we were in the trenches.

May 11th.—Another move. This time to the SS "Osmanieh."
May 15th.—Postcard says "I am quite well”…’
At this point it does not appear that Bob was making any plans to enlist. In June, he purchased a new Ayrshire bull (“Ardyne Napoleon”) for 51 guineas from one of the most notable Ayrshire herds in Scotland, Ardyne Farm, owned by a Mr J. McAllister. He was also keeping company with Dorrie Walker, who was a neighbour of the Marshall family in Essendon. News that Dorrie’s brother, Second-Lieutenant Kenneth Leigh Walker, had died on 12 July from wounds received at Gallipoli, seems to have been the catalyst for Bob enlisting. The 22-year-old, serving with the 7th Battalion, had been leading rescue parties under heavy fire in an attempt to dig out men buried by falling parapets, when he was shot in the abdomen. It was a shattering loss for the Walker family.

Having reached his decision, Bob Marshall quickly put his plans into action: he enlisted at the Melbourne Town Hall on 5 August, completing his paperwork, undergoing the medical examination and signing his oath of service the same day. The medical officer described Bob as being just 5-feet 4¾-inches tall and weighing 10-stone 5-pounds. His chest measurement of 34 to 37-inches, more than met the stringent AIF requirements. He had a fresh complexion, brown eyes, and black hair. There were scars on his right forearm and right shin, but no discernible vaccination marks on either arm.

As a recruit, Bob was “top drawer.” Not only did he have eight years of training as a cadet, he had been taught to shoot by his father, a man noted for his patience and perspicacity in instructing young marksmen. As a farmer and horseman, Bob was also physically fit and he had a higher level of education than the average 28-year-old in 1915.

Bob was immediately assigned to the 5th Field Company Engineers (FCE) as a private with the regimental number 3079.

On 18 November, a cold and stormy night, the residents of Mount Wallace gathered at the local school to farewell Privates Bob Marshall and Victor Walker. In spite of the weather, there was a large gathering at the hall, which was ‘tastefully decorated with flags and flowers.’ The two young men were ‘very popular in the district’ and this was an important opportunity for last farewells. Following a lively concert, local Justice of the Peace, Mr A. S. Robertson, made a ‘powerful’ speech before making presentations to the two soldiers – Victor received a wristlet watch, and Bob a pair of silver-backed military brushes; both also received fountain pens. ‘Supper, provided by the ladies, was then partaken of, and dancing was indulged in until daylight…’

Just days before Bob was due to leave for the Front, a discreet announcement was published in the Melbourne magazine Punch.

‘…An engagement is announced between Miss Dorrie Walker, of "Gladwood," Essendon, sister of the late Lieut. Kenneth Walker, 7th Batt. A.I.F., and Mr. R. W. Marshall, A.I.F., of Mount Wallace, youngest son. of Lieut.-Colonel and Mrs. T. S. Marshall, "Ardgowan," Essendon…’

Bob sailed from Melbourne at 11am on 23 November onboard HMAT Ceramic. They made a speedy voyage and reached Egypt on 14 December, anchoring off Port Suez at 8:30pm. Bob disembarked with his unit at Port Said the following day.

Having arrived too late to join the campaign at Gallipoli, the 5th FCE was sent straight through to Kantara before continuing on to defensive positions at Serapeum on the Suez Canal.

A mild bout of tonsilitis resulted in Bob being treated at the 8th Field Ambulance on 10 January 1916, before being sent back to his unit on the same day.

Meanwhile, the third of the Marshall brothers, Theo, enlisted at Blackboy Hill in Western Australia on 25 February. His war proved to be a short-lived experience – he was expected to join the 28th Battalion on the Western Front, but contracted mumps while he was still in England. The disease affected his ears and prevented him from being fit for active service; he remained in England with the Pay Corps for the duration of the war.

Expansion of the AIF during the vital months following the end of the Gallipoli Campaign, resulted in the forming of new units to take on the larger challenges ahead. The 12th Field Company Engineers (as part of the 4th Division Engineers) was officially raised at Tel-el-Kebir on 5 March 1916, with Bob Marshall being one of the first to join the new unit. The men were kept busy with drills, and specialised activities that included building piers and barrel rafts, and perfecting rope work, knotting and splicing.

It was during this time that Bob experienced a problem with his right knee that was to plague him throughout his time with the AIF. He reported to the 13th Field Ambulance at Serapeum on 25 March, suffering from swelling to the knee joint. The medical officer diagnosed synovitis with the possibility of an underlying cause of arthritis. He was admitted to the 2nd Australian Stationary Hospital at Tel-el-Kebir on 27 March – the same day he was appointed a temporary mounted lance-corporal.

A day later, Bob was sent to the 3rd Australian General Hospital at Abbassia. He spent a week elevating and resting the affected knee. He was finally discharged to the Overseas Base on 3 April and joined “miscellaneous reinforcements” two weeks later.

Bob’s leadership capabilities continued to attract attention and, on 12 May, just before being transferred to the Engineers Training Depot at Serapeum, he was promoted to the temporary rank of second-corporal.

At the beginning of June, the 12th FCE began preparations for the move to France. With everything packed away the men left Serapeum by train at 5:30pm on 3 June. They reached Alexandria in the middle of the night and immediately boarded HMT Scotian, which was waiting at the quayside.

The voyage to Marseilles took a full – and fortunately uneventful – week. Bob’s first experience of the French people and countryside came during the train trip through to Bailleul in the north. It was summertime and sight of burgeoning fields reminded many Australian soldiers of an enormous market garden. The fact that they were travelling towards an invading army was not lost on any of them – nor was their presence unappreciated by the local population, with crowds of grateful women, children and the elderly gathering at every stopping point along the way.

After reaching Bailleul, the unit settled into billets at the corner of the Meteren and Merris roads. They moved onto La Clytte on 23 June and took over the work of the 5th Artillery Observation Posts from the 2nd Northumbrian Field Company Engineers (Royal Engineers) two days later. At this point Bob’s promotion to second-corporal was confirmed.

The 12th FCE continued its role at La Clytte well into July. They moved to the Somme on 14 July and reached Harponville near Albert at the end of the month.

After taking over a frontline position from the 5th FCE at Tara Hill, just south of the Albert-Bapaume road between La Boiselle and Bécourt on 8 August, the 12th set about cleaning out the communication trenches and pushing forward four strongposts. Almost immediately (following an undocumented incident) Bob’s troublesome right knee flared up. Swelling indicated a recurrence of synovitis, which required hospitalisation at the 4th General Hospital in Camiers.
On 10 August, Bob was evacuated to England onboard the Hospital Ship Newhaven. Two days later he was admitted to the Brook War Hospital on Shooters Hill Road in Woolwich. The facility was housed in the buildings of the Brook Fever Hospital.

In a letter home to his father, Bob was able to explain fully what had transpired…

‘…It is strange how used one gets to the whistling and plonk of the bullets. We have travelled a lot, and put up at all sorts of billets. At Bonneville, we had a great feed of red currants and cherries, saw some delightful spots and enjoyed the stop. Villages are very close to one another, and each has its church. We got to Albert (a town bigger than Ballarat) near Pozieres, and saw the result of war -- houses and buildings knocked about and deserted. We pulled up near the cathedral in the main street, and stayed there for two hours while our captain looked for our allotted spot.

A military policeman came along and told us that if we did not soon move, we would be blown away. We thought we were out of shell range; but we found out we were in the Somme area properly. We went to a place called Becourt Wood, and from this onwards I have lived the most exciting and dangerous part of my soldiering life so far. We got safely through the wood, which was just one mass of trenches and dugouts, with batteries of guns all through it. Just then the fun started. It was an inferno. Our guns opened, and the enemy's guns replied, and the noise was indescribable. It was just like a thousand empty tanks rolling down a hill. The batteries all round us were banging away over our heads, while alongside as shells fell from everywhere. Sleep was out of the question till this lot was over. I saw some very narrow escapes. Every day Fritz would start shelling, then sweep the gully with shrapnel right down past us as far as the corner turning into the watering place for horses. He could not lob them where we watered, but made it hot getting there. After sweeping the gully, he would turn on the high explosives. One shell killed five and wounded 33 men, and we were all covered with dirt from the same shell. It was awful.

These incidents will show you how lucky I have been. I saw a French officer riding past, when a nine pounder came over and burst under his horse, killing it; but the officer did not receive a scratch. It was terrible to hear the big shells tearing a track through the wood, taking everything before them. The view in daytime reminded me of an old gold diggings, just one mass of white clay for miles, trench after trench being thrown up everywhere.

Just before leaving this spot, I was at the watering trench fixing up some sandbags that had been blown out, when a shell came over and exploded 30 yards away. The concussion knocked me off the parapet into the trench. I hurt my ankle, and leg; but got up and rubbed the dirt out of my eyes. My leg soon started to give me fits, so next morning, not being able to walk, I sent for relief and was taken to camp. My ankle and knee had swollen, so I was ordered to hospital. While waiting, Fritz sent up an aeroplane and must have spotted us, for we put in a most wonderful experience that night, as from 10.30 to 4.30 he shelled us the whole time. Over they came, and it was surprising (and a pleasure) to note how many "duds" (shells that do not explode) came over. It was an ordeal for us. It is different when one is doing something and can have a go at them: but when one is helpless it is another matter. On four occasions we were covered with dirt. It was just remarkable to see the escapes we had when we viewed the spot in the morning. The road for about 300 yards was torn to pieces. Our only casualties were two rifles and the cooking dixies smashed, and one cart splintered.

My leg was giving me pain, and the boys were awfully good the way they tried to make me comfortable. I was bandaged up and told on no account to try and stand up. The hospital was a huge one. I was handed my ticket for "Blighty," that wonderful place for sick and wounded soldiers. It has been borrowed from the Hindoos and means "Home." To all and sundry here it means England. We had not arrived at Dover an hour before two huge reports were heard. Fritz could not even let us alone here, for two aeroplanes had dropped the bombs. We had a lovely trip through Kent, and the welcome from everyone was just lovely. It made one realise what "Blighty'" meant. I feel ever so much better after a course of massage and electric treatment; but I cannot lift my leg or bend my knee.

I forgot to tell you of some of our excursions into the old German dug-outs. They are veritable townships underground. Some went down 43ft., with rooms all boarded and floored. Some had carpets and linoleums on the floor, and beds, and pictures on the walls. They had come to stop: but our guns smashed them up and gave Fritz the shock of his life. All the dug out mansions were on his first lines. This second and third were not so well looked after, as they were mostly ordinary trenches and small dug-outs. I saw hundreds of prisoners coming in. General Birdwood is proud of his boys and the boys are proud of him…’

After being discharged on 26 August, Bob travelled through to the No1 Command Depot at Perham Downs in Wiltshire where he was immediately granted two-weeks leave. At that time he was regarded as fully fit (Classed A), but on returning from leave he was reclassified as B1a – fit for light duty only and was to remain at Perham Downs.

With Bob’s knee seemingly unable to withstand the strain of active duty, the decision was made to keep him in England. On 27 October, he was moved to the No4 Command Depot at Wareham in Dorset. The camp was at Worgret Hill and was set up to receive men who had been released from hospitals to prepare them for either a return to the Front or repatriation to Australia.
Despite his “wonky” knee, Bob was still capable of assisting in the war effort. He was detached to the 61st Battalion at Wareham and promoted to the rank of sergeant on 1 June. Although the intention had been to eventually deploy this new unit, the 61st was eventually disbanded without seeing active service.
In October, Bob joined the 15th Training Battalion at Hurdcott with a formal transfer to the 60th Infantry Battalion confirmed at the same time.

At the beginning of December he was “On Command” (meaning part of) the Drill School based in the Jellalabad Barracks at Tidworth. He returned to the 15th Training Battalion (then at Codford) on 26 January 1918. His extended period of training was not over, however, and during February and March, Bob attended at the School of Instruction at the Candahar Barracks.

By April it was clear that every available man was needed on the Western Front to counteract the German Spring Offensive. With his knee seemingly stable, Bob was recalled to active duty and left for France, via Southampton, on 7 April.

Oddly, a gap appears in Bob Marshall’s movements during this period. We know that he reached the Australian Intermediate Base Depot at Le Havre on 8 April. Four days later he marched out to join the 60th Battalion, but an apparent paperwork oversight does not have him joining the 60th until 2 June. In all likelihood, Bob joined the unit, which was then near Blangy-Tronville, within days of leaving Le Havre. Therefore, Bob was with the 60th Battalion during the now legendary counter-attack at Villers-Bretonneux on 25 April 1918.

The 60th Battalion was called into the line for the launch of the Allied Hundred Days Offensive on the 8 August. This was a pivotal moment. Stagnant trench warfare gave way to an open, mobile conflict. The 60th moved forward at 10:15am, with Bob Marshall in charge of a platoon. Throughout the move he showed great skill and coolness by maintaining their direction and successfully negotiating the heavy barrage put down on the advancing troops.

Attacking in the Harbonnières-Rosières area the following day, Bob took over as acting company sergeant major of the company and controlled two platoons on the left flank. At that point the company had been reduced to just one officer. Bob led his men through a devastating onslaught of machine-gun and artillery fire assisting to outflank the enemy. The movement forced them to surrender at a critical time and allowed the advance to proceed.

His composure and judgement was to earn Bob Marshall the Military Medal, which was recommended by Commanding Officer of the 60th Battalion, Lieutenant-Colonel Herbert Thomas Christoph Layh. The decoration was awarded on 14 September. As added recognition, Bob was commissioned in the Field four days later and posted to B Company.

In writing home, Bob said ‘some terrible work was experienced on this advance,’ and he ‘did not expect that any of them could have got out of it alive.’

At 4pm on 24 September, news was received at headquarters (at Barleux Copse) that the 60th Battalion was to be split up. By this stage the AIF was considerably understrength – high numbers of casualties had depleted the existing units, and were not being met by the arrival of reinforcements. The decision to combine units to bring them up to strength was seen as the only option.

At 9am Parade on 25 September 1918, the men were informed that the 60th was to be “cut out,” and would form A and B Companies of the 59th Battalion. Interestingly, it was recorded in the Unit Diary that the ‘news was received with mixed feelings.’ However, the reaction was far more decisive, with the men refusing the order to disperse. The mutiny could have undermined everything the AIF stood for, but there were few prouder units than the 60th Battalion. There was even a reported plea that they be deployed in the hottest part of the line, for they would rather die together on the battlefield than suffering the indignity of being disbanded. It took the intervention of enigmatic leader, Brigadier H. E. “Pompey” Elliott, who addressed the men and persuaded them to comply with the order. Only Pompey Elliott could speak to these men with true understanding, after all, he had been with them at Fromelles in July 1916, when the unit was nearly wiped out.

The last moments of the 60th Battalion were spent in comradeship. Brigade Sports were held that afternoon in front of a big crowd that included numerous nurses. The 60th Battalion tied with the 57th for the cup on 24-points each. In the evening they all attended a concert held in the Brigade School Lecture Hut.

At 11:45pm on 25 September the transfer of men was completed – 32 officers, including Bob Marshall, and 581 other ranks were transferred to the 59th Battalion. The final entry in the 60th Battalion Diary simply read, “Thus ended a successful & proud Battalion.”

It was an extraordinary moment in the history of the AIF.

The 60th Battalion was formally disbanded on 27 September 1918.

Bob Marshall was immediately back in action, with the 59th Battalion in the line forward of Templeux-le-Guérard pushing towards Bellicourt on 29 September. Advancing American troops on the southern outskirts of Malakoff Farm had overlooked German machine-gun nests due to the heavy fog and a thick smoke barrage that made ‘direction and observation most difficult.’ A curtain of gas also hung around the area requiring the men to wear their gas masks, and sun glinting off their goggles made it hard for the Australians to maintain their direction. The 59th was held up there and casualties were ‘fairly heavy.’ Taking advantage of any available cover and with the aid of a secured tank, the battalion pushed forward towards the Hindenburg Line. Enemy machine-guns kept up fire from the left flank, causing most of the 59th Battalion casualties.
During the course of the day, Bob Marshall was hit by bullets in the left hand. He was admitted to the 132nd Field Ambulance before being transferred to the 55th Casualty Clearing Station at Doingt where he was admitted on 30 September.

Although the wound was only mild (he would later describe himself as lying in hospital with a few punctures in his hand), Bob was immediately placed on an ambulance train and sent through to Rouen. He was admitted to the 8th General Hospital on 1 October, before being evacuated to England the next day.

Bob spent the last weeks of the war in the 3rd London General Hospital at Wandsworth. He returned to duty just before Christmas, joining the AIF Administration Headquarters as an orderly officer under the Deputy Assistant Adjutant-General. On 23 December he was promoted to full lieutenant. As he waited for repatriation, Bob was attached for duty with the Finance Section.

On 16 March 1919, Bob boarded the SS Czaritza to begin the voyage home. During the period it took to reach Egypt, Bob carried out pay duties. He then transhipped to the Dunluce Castle at Alexandria on 7 April to continue on to Australia.

The Dunluce Castle reached Port Melbourne on 15 May and was passed through the quarantine station as a “clean ship” – no cases of influenza. There were 800 men onboard, with 208 being Victorian, and many were invalids. Crowds of people thronged the streets, cheering the men as the passed along creating a joyous home-coming.

Now, a little more about Bungeeltap and the events that brought Robert Watson Marshall out of the ether…
As a settlement, Bungeeltap no longer exists, although the 1922 homestead that bears its name certainly does and is located about 15-kilometres south of Ballan. It was first settled by Europeans in 1837
I found the following explanation of the origin of the name to be quite illuminating. It shows a degree of connection between the settlers, John Cowie and David Stead, and the local indigenous community.

‘The name Bungeeltap of course is derived from a local Wathaurong word, however I have seen two quite different meanings for the name. The first claims the meaning as "spirit water" the second, "eagle's nest". I do not know which is correct, but Bunjil (aka Bungal) was the name given to the eagle believed by the Wathaurong to be the creator spirit and who dwelt nearby at Lal Lal Falls.’
(Barwon Blog: Branching out - settling in - barwonblogger.blogspot.com)

In the era surrounding the Great War Bungeeltap held more significance for the local population. On the 28 May 1919, the people of Bungeeltap and the larger surrounding district (including Mount Wallace, Ballan, Elaine, Beremboke, Morrisons and Steiglitz) gathered for an evening of celebrations. The Bungeeltap hall had been decorated with ‘flags, flowers, foliage and mottoes.’ This was a special welcome home for Bob Marshall and Frank Webster, who were both Military Medal winners.

The evening began with a distinctly Scottish flare, with the two soldiers led into the hall by Dave Donald on the bagpipes. It was both patriotic and sentimental, with the crowd singing the National Anthem and a rousing rendition of “Home, Sweet Home.”

The audience enjoyed a lengthy concert that included a rendition of the grand old ballad, “The Veteran’s Song,” by Stephen Adams, with words by Fred E. Weatherly (who wrote the lyrics to Danny Boy).

‘…Just wheel my chair to the window, And wide the casement fling, For I want to see the folks lass, As they go to greet the King. So fetch me the old Martini, And set me upon my feet, For the King, the King is coming, Don’t you hear ‘em in the street?

We ha’n’t no flow’rs at the window, For times is a bit severe, But I think he’ll stop when he sees me, As I stand at attention here. And tho’ I’ve a wooden leg, dear, And my eyes are old and dim, I fought for his dear old father, And I’d fight again for him!

Did ye see him, lass, did ye see him, Did ye see his merry eye, As I gave the salute and shouted “Present arms!” as the King went by? Did ye hear him speak to his marshal? I heard him through the noise, “Thank God! when the young lads fall, sir, We still have the brave old boys!”

Chorus: “Long live the King,” – don’t you hear ‘em cheering, Don’t you hear ‘em shouting as the King comes by? “Long live the King,” – that’s the song they sing; “God bless the King” is the nation’s loving cry…’
Suitable speeches were made before Ballan’s Captain Percy Lay (q.v.) stood up to speak. In pointing out that the pair must have ‘fought valiantly’ to receive their medals, Perce was speaking from experience – he was the most highly decorated member of the 8th Battalion, wearing the Military Cross, Distinguished Conduct Medal and the Military Medal. He then presented the two men with ‘beautiful gold medals, suitably inscribed, as a slight recognition of their bravery.’

The evening concluded with a dainty supper and everyone agreed that the entertainment was ‘the best ever held in the Bungeeltap hall.’

A final and ‘very hearty and enthusiastic public welcome home social’ was then held at the Bungeeltap Hall on 12 August 1919. Extraordinarily, the community was ‘now in the happy position of having all its brave soldier boys home again.’ Bob Marshall was called on to speak on behalf of the other returned soldiers present and he said, ‘though the Australians were always in good spirits, he was sure Captain [Ronald Bethune] Forbes and Gunner [Victor] Walker were (like the rest), mighty glad to be back in Australia again.’

When Sergeant Theo Marshall returned home in August, he spent a fortnight in Melbourne with his brother, Bob. The small newspaper article intimated that Bob had recently left a convalescent home, but there was no indication as to the issue.

The year ended on a happy note for Bob Marshall. On 6 November, he married Dorrie Walker at the St Andrew’s Church of England in Brighton. It was a quiet wedding, celebrated by the Reverend William Hancock, who was later Archdeacon of Melbourne.

With both her parents already deceased, Dorrie was given away by her elder brother, Charles Roy Walker. She was attended by her younger sister, Freda, as bridesmaid. Bob’s best man was Dorrie’s brother, Eric Lawford Walker, who had served as a lieutenant with the 60th Battalion.

During the early years of their marriage, Bob and Dorrie lived on the land at Craigie Park. It was there that their first two children were born – Colin Leigh on 13 August 1920 and then Ian David on 2 January 1922.

Bob continued his support of local groups, including the Ballan Football Club and the Ballan branch of the Returned Services League – for their Boxing Day sports meeting in 1919 he donated a trophy for the Best Sustained Comic Character.

The unveiling of the Ballan memorial fountain and District Honour Roll by Major Eddie Kerby (q.v.) MHR on 27 March 1920 was accompanied by a formal dinner. Bob Marshall was called on to propose the toast to “the Red Cross and other voluntary workers.”
‘…He said it was only necessary to ask the boys what they thought. The work of the Red Cross and other workers was appreciated by every digger, and supplied that link with home that made the AIF the fighting force it was…’

After the dinner the diggers formed up under the command of Captain Percy Lay and, led by the Ballarat Pipe Band, marched to the Ballan Post Office where they took their position in front of the memorial.

‘This little touch of military life revived many memories with the diggers, and allowed the people to see what an efficient body of men they had in their midst.’

Eventually Bob’s wartime injuries forced his retirement from farming and he left Craigie Park in 1923. By 1924 he and Dorrie had settled in their new home at 666 Burke Road in Camberwell. (The re-numbering of houses in Burke Road resulted in the Marshall home being changed to 591). His occupation was listed simply as “agent” or “commercial traveller” – in other words, Bob worked as a door-to-door salesman.

Their family was completed by the arrival of their only daughter, Wendy, on 22 January 1931.

The deaths of Bob’s elderly parents within four years was sad, but not unexpected. When Theo Marshall died on 4 January 1933, he was 91 years old. Margaret’s death on 14 September 1936 came exactly two months after her 87th birthday.

Colin and Ian followed in their father’s footsteps and were enrolled at Scotch College. They were both excellent students, with Colin following a career in accounting, whilst Ian studied agricultural science at the University Melbourne, topping his graduating year (1951) and winning an exhibition; he went on to the Australian National University studying the effects of myxomatosis. Their sister, Wendy, became a teacher.

Bob and Dorrie experienced a mixture of pride and dread when their sons both enlisted for active service during World War II. Colin enlisted on 24 February 1941 (VX39889). He went on to serve as a tank instructor (he was assessed as ‘A good type. Cool in difficulties’) and was first appointed to commissioned rank on 17 June 1942. He saw service in New Guinea with the 2/8th Australian Armoured Regiment. Ian followed on 10 October 1941 (V158146). He was discharged from the army on 17 April 1942 for transfer to the Royal Australian Navy, where he quickly advanced through the ranks, serving as a lieutenant onboard HMAS Lithgow. Ian was present at Bougainville for the surrender of Japanese forces on 21 August 1945.

There had been a special moment of joy for the Marshall family during the war when they gathered for the marriage of Colin to Edith May Nettleingham, on 11 July 1944. The wedding was celebrated at Scotch College’s Littlejohn Chapel. Colin’s best man was Lieutenant Peter Mathais Tait.

Bob’s latter years were spent working with the Repatriation Department. He was with the Repat until his retirement.

The arrival of three grandchildren, Graeme, Jocelyn and Angela, saw Bob become a doting “granddad.” But sadly, Bob did not get the long life predicted by his parentage and, after a protracted illness, he died on 20 February 1956. He was cremated at the Springvale Cemetery the following day and his ashes were scattered.