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Chapter 20: Conclusion - Post War

These two poems were written by Percy Smythe after the war.

OUR FALLEN by Percy Smythe
The wild thyme grows on steep Gallipoli,
Soft breezes fan the plains of Palestine,
The sun glares hot on Egypt’s sandy sea.
In France the poppied fields with scarlet shine.
                Our Children marched away
                In martial glamour,
                Past is the passioned day,
                And stilled its clamour.
                They fought for Freedoms cause,
                Guarding the morrow,
                Dear bought was the victory,
                Hearts droop in sorrow.
                Our freedom they have won,
                But oh, the price!
                Paid with our children’s blood –
                Sad sacrifice!
O Thou who knowest dread war’s futility,
Teach all mankind to love their fellow man,
Give tolerance for hate and jealousy.
That war might not the world embroil again.
                Let the sad lesson burn,
                Deep in each mind,
                Give men broad sympathy
                For all mankind.
May the war’s chastening scourge
                Be for our good,
                Make of the nations all
                One brotherhood.
                If thus the nations can
                Love’s wisdom gain
                Then our children’s blood
                Not shed in vain.
Calm shines the sun on steep Gallipoli
O’er Egypt’s sands, and plains of Palestine.
White crosses mark our dear dead children’s graves.
In France the poppied fields with scarlet shines.

***

The following verse written by P. E. Smythe was published in the Bulletin – date unknown but it must have been quite a long time after the war.

BLESSED FORGETFULNESS
Backward I look. It’s like a waving dream
With colours melting in a misty haze,
Like tempests lulled in languid peace they seem,
Those far-gone, fearful days.
Backward I look, the Hell of thunder-roar,
When men were torn and crushed in hideous Death,
Sinks, from the clamouring horror long since o’er,
To a fitful breath.
Backward I look, shuddering to think that man
Smote man in warfare’s reeking flame, And yet –
Soothed by the soft grey hand of time, I can
Forget

***

THE SMYTHE BOYS AS I REMEMBER THEM

Before I enter my comments about my Uncles Bert, Viv, Percy and Vern, I am writing a few things about their wonderful mother and my grandmother. My Grandfather died soon after the war ended and Grannie was the heart of the Smythe clan. The family home at Ramsgate was the hub where the immediate and expanded family gathered periodically.  There were twenty-five grandchildren that would often give rise to a crowd of adults and children having friendly times together, as families should do. For my grandmother, this provided her with some happy times in her life to cope with past sadness.

When we visited, there were often others staying, just leaving or arriving in the small home.  Irrespective of the numbers involved, my grandmother never seemed to be ruffled by children playing inside and out (although banging doors was a no-no) or the sudden arrival of more family.  No one was ever made to feel unwelcome or unwanted.

My memories are of her happy, welcoming, smiling face, her regal, proud bearing and no sign of the responsibility for so many that she often proudly carried on her shoulders.  She always had many anecdotes and stories to tell us of her childhood and the family at Jerilderie. 

She had the Irish gift for this and though we heard some them over and over again, we were never tired of crowding around her on the bed in the evening, to hear them again. I  loved and always respected her but I also was a bit in awe of her because she was GRANNIE.  I am so glad I have no memories of her ever being angry with me, though she spoke sternly to me at times but always justified, as I was not always an angel.

   
Grannie Aged about 18   Grannie as I remember her

***

UNCLE BERT. I only know about Bert from written and oral recollections of family members. However, I really feel that he was a part of my life from my earliest years. My mother and his other siblings talked about him a lot and all family members had that wonderful picture of him (with the peripheral ‘heavenly’ type decoration around him drawn by his younger brother and fellow Digger - Percy) on the walls in their homes or with their collection of photos.  

I do not ever remember my grandmother speaking about him, my grandfather or her son Lionel, who was born in 1896 and died the same year. Perhaps it did not register with me, as she died when I was eleven but she may well have had such deep and abiding sorrow that she felt unable to discuss these deaths with anyone without getting upset. The photo that she had on her wall of Bert was the largest one that I saw. She refused to have a calendar in the house due to the many sad dates that she did not want to remember, so I was told.

Bert’s youngest brother Gordon (Beau) was very like him and I spent a lot of time with him. He had the same fair wavy hair, bright blue eyes and was very likeable and charming.  He teased all his nieces and nephews (as well as susceptive adults including his wife) and always had time to play card games with us. All my cousins who knew him thought he was very clever and he showed us lots of tricks.

I lived with him and his family for short periods and really enjoyed my stays with them and like Bert, he had nicknames for some of us and his two children. Therefore, because of Uncle Beau, I had a chance to get a ‘glimpse’ of the ‘real’ Bert.

***

UNCLE VIV was allocated a Soldiers’ Settlers Farm after the war and my family lived there for a period of time, when my father was working on his property in the country and I was able to get to know him. He was a kindly man and his wife was like him and they both ‘turned a blind eye’ to minor childish misbehavior. That suited me very well, as their children and I were adventurous and sometimes needed and should have been scolded over some misdemeanors.    

Uncle Viv was involved with the R.S.L. and he and his wife were part of other social activities in the district. There was a tennis court at the back of their home that was used a lot. They were great neighbours and always very willing to help others around them in times of need. 

When the family moved to Sydney before the war, I visited their home, especially during the holidays. After he enlisted in WW2, he visited my mother when he had leave and we were very proud of this dapper gentleman in his uniform with his swagger stick. He looked every inch a Major and it is not difficult now for me to picture him as an officer in the line during WW1.

Uncle Viv at and All Services Dinner in 1968

***

UNCLE PERCY went to the University of Sydney, graduating and becoming a teacher after the war. Later, he opened a business - The Oxford Coaching College in Margaret Street, Sydney. He wrote some text books and what were called ’crib’ books. His ones on Shakespeare’s plays were a great help to me at High School and my son Stephen also found they assisted him in the last few years of his High School English studies.
He kept up with drawing and painting and some family members have some of his works that were found after he died. I am lucky enough to have two oil paintings given to me by his daughter.

His family lived very near my grandmother and was able to 'keep an eye on her welfare'.  When my family was in Sydney (and that was often), I spent a lot of time with them, as his daughter Betty (my cousin) is about my age. We stayed with Grannie when my father was looking for work and a place for us to live during the Depression.

Uncle was always very kind to me but looking back I believe he thought my parents were remiss in letting me get away with being argumentative and standing up for what I believed were ‘my rights’ at a very young age. He did not have to deal with my behaviour, so we had no problems. He appeared to me to be a typical schoolmaster and was rather serious most of the time, unlike Uncles Viv and Vern. 

He had a Model T Ford car and we would all squash into it and he would drive us to picnics at local beaches, Cronulla and the Royal National Park. I have wonderful memories of these outings and he seemed enjoy treating us to these pleasures when we were there. After Grannie died, the family moved to the North Shore and I stayed with them sometimes during the holidays.

Uncle Percy c. 1938

***

UNCLE VERN studied after he came back from the war and became an Accountant, insurance adjuster and finally Secretary to the Atlantic Union Oil Co. in Sydney. I did not see him often as a child but during the war, after I enlisted we met and had a long talk at a family gathering and I felt the kindred spirit and liked him very much. He seemed pleased that he had a niece in the W.A.A.A.F. and had no problem with women as part of the Armed Services. He was a real charmer, had a ‘way with the ladies’ and when I saw him he always had a happy, smiling expression on his face.   

He was not tall but he definitely had what I would now call a ‘presence’ and like my thoughts on Uncle Viv, I can imagine him walking on the edge of that trench at Fromelles and in action at Polygon Wood without any difficulty. Each Christmas following that time, he sent me an interesting book and I particularly remember Robert Ruark’s “Something of Value”. The quote in the front of it impressed me a lot.

When we take away the customs, culture and religion of a people, we better replace it with "something of value."

He lost his son Bill, an only child, who died at Samarai, New Guinea in 1961 and that was a great sadness in his life. He was lucky that he had two grandchildren.

Uncle Vern visited France sometime after 1965 but had told my cousin Clyde he would not visit the Battlefields, as he had lost too many good men there. I believe he did not join the R.S.L. but marched sometimes on Anzac Day and attended 56th Battalion Reunions.

Uncle Vern c 1950

***

In the years since that followed after my grandmother’s death, when the grandchildren had finished having their families, most of us met at birthdays, anniversaries, weddings house-warmings, book launches and sadly at funerals.

These occasions brought us (as a large extended family) closer together and resulted in my research to find a large Family Tree Record, my cousin Dorothy’s book about the history of the Smythe family and my pages on the history of the Smythe boys, my father and other relatives at war. These are now all on the Smythe Family Website www.smythe.id.au together with Uncle Perce’s Journal, his diary of WW1.

This is the end, after so many years of sifting through papers, pages of information, reading C.D’s and searching the Net. The assistance of many family members and friends who contributed their memories, personal records and photographs is very much appreciated. I would be pleased if my efforts will start others in recording the war history of their family members and ancestors. This is very important and I personally am very sorry I did not ask my relations a lot more questions about the past, before it was too late. 

Mardi

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