Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

"Adventurous Life. MR. PHIL BRANDT LOOKS BACK. Left Home at 16 

Mr. Phil. H. Brandt, who yesterday retired from the service of Broken Hill Associated Smelters after 39 years there, can look back upon an adventurous early life. He seldom talks of those early years, but when he does he lets fall little stories of sea and land which do not fail to hold the interest of the listeners. Phil Brandt left his home in Germany - and that country - when he was 16 years of age, and he has not seen it in the 44 years since. He came of a family of good standing in Hanover, and as a boy became engaged with the Forestry Department. He was quite contented with this job of patrolling among the beautiful trees and keeping an eye on the animals cared for there. But one day the young woodsman could not resist the temptation to take a pot shot at a fine stag, and brought it down. That was the end of his forestry career.  

Call of the Sea  

The sea called him, and he left home without any farewells. Thus began five years' bucking round in all sorts of sailing vessels, in the process of which, as he terms it, he became a "hard citizen." He and a pal deserted in South America, and hearing of a revolution in Peru — one of those innumerable outbreaks - decided to do a little soldiering for some pay. According to the veteran there was much soldiering of sorts, but little remuneration. Mules were the sole means of transport, and Phil and his mate, provided with conspicuous uniforms, joined in the general uproar, tramping and riding many miles in the cause of the revolutionaries. He recalls two incidents which bade fair to prevent him ever coming to Australia. One was when his company, mounted on mules, had to hack their way through a street in Lima packed with bloodthirsty loyalists. On the other occasion, while riding alone through a narrow defile, he was set upon and knocked unconscious by a couple of nondescripts. He still bears a mark on the back of his head where he was struck, and has no doubt that one of his assailants has something similar above his brow, where Phil's loaded whip got him.

"Rafferty Rules" in Peru

"Rafferty rules," according to the veteran, held sway in Peru at that time, and those "foreigners" who received no army pay did some collecting on their own behalf. Looting became the order of the day, and Phil and his pal joined in. They departed from Lima in the dead of night possessed of tattered uniforms and (round their waists) various treasures as mementoes of a military career. When the good ship Dartmoor tacked out of Lima harbor bound for Antwerp, she carried, among other cargo, two battered soldiers of fortune hidden down a hold. The sailors fed them for a couple of days, and one morning the amazed captain was gravely saluted by two uniformed scarecrows on the poop deck. Instead of clapping them in irons he cursed them mightily, and signed them on at a shilling a month. "The Dartmoor must have been the meanest ship that ever sailed," commented Mr. Brandt. "Food supplies ran short, and the skipper ascribed this to having had to feed two ---— stowaways. The crew used to cook potatoes in salt water in the forecastle, but the 'old man' had that cut out, saying that they could not use any more coal for the purpose." At Antwerp the two wanderers joined the rest of the crew at the Belgian Sailors' Rest, and when the captain appeared another miniature war broke out. Phil had taken the precaution to tip two gendarmes with a trifle from his "treasure belt," telling them to take a walk. As the captain was going through his chastisement he blew his whistle frenziedly for the police — but the tip held good. Phil and his mate were paid off, dumped their earnings in a box for a shipwrecked sailors' fund, and then set out to put their Peruvian harvest to some use. "The following day we appeared in Antwerp streets togged up like wedding cakes," he said. "We had on new suits, bowler hats, overcoats, and carried walking sticks. We were a sight for sore eyes. "We hung round Antwerp until our hoard dwindled to a few pounds, and then made for England." Stiil only a youth, Phil said goodbye to his mate and signed on the Dramalis, a four-masted barque bound for Australia. On arrival in Pirie the former Hanoverian woodsman looked over the rail and decided that this town would do him. That was in 1899.

When the Dramalis sailed she was one man short: Phil regretted leaving the vessel, for it and its master were fine. He thought so much of her, in fact, that the house in Pirie West which he is now leaving after many years of happy residence bears the name "Dramalis." Those who have known Mr. Brandt over a long period will recall that when war broke out in South Africa he was off like a shot. Anything in the way of love for adventure had not been satiated by his Peruvian experiences. He saw the Transvaal trouble through, came back unscathed, and settled down to a life of steady work which made him respected by all here. As boss of the old "sailor gang" at the Smelters he had some queer workmen. But enter- prise, backed by certain lurid language which he had picked up from various bullying skippers and mates, enabled him successfully to rule them.

The Accurate Gipsy

He has left the Smelters at the age of 60, and is still a virile man, capable of enjoying many years of life yet. He makes one quiet boast — that he has never been "broke." "In a gipsy camp in Germany, I was told by an old dame when I was a lad that I would travel far, would be lucky, and would always have money," he said. "At that time I had no idea of leaving home, but the whole thing has come true. I have never been rich, but have always had enough to carry on with." - from the Port Pirie Recorder 02 Jun 1938 (nla.gov.au)