Pick up Friday's Mercury for the honour roll
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The Illawarra Mercury Roll of Honour commemorates the men and women with a connection to our region, who paid the ultimate price for their WWI service.
In many cases, their families don't have a grave to visit to mourn. Some are commemorated by a name on a wall in a far-away place; some with an unknown grave. The "lucky" ones have a headstone or cross in a country many of their descendants will never have the chance to visit.
One of the new names on our roll is that of Tom Allsopp, who worked as a farm labourer at Dapto before he enlisted in 1916. His battalion arrived in France in January 1917 and just four months later, Tom was dead. Suffering from trench fever, Tom was admitted to a medical dressing station on May 11, 1917. It appears the station came under attack and Tom was killed the same day.
Another addition to the roll is Cecil Edwin Howard, also known as C. Paling. Cecil came to Australia from England at 18, and was a painter in Gerringong at the time of enlistment. Cecil died from wounds sustained at Ypres on October 2, 1916. His mother wrote: "At the time my dear son received his fatal wounds he was acting as Lewis gunner when his trench was blown up."
Their stories are heartbreaking - sons and brothers who didn't return home. The young men who were among the first wave at Gallipoli who simply didn't stand a chance. The mates who enlisted together and died together. The ones who may have survived their first, or second, or even third injury, only to fall in battle.
In this day of instant communication, it's difficult to imagine the agony of waiting for weeks, months, or even years to hear the fate of a loved one. And all too often, communication broke down and worried families were given the wrong news altogether.
But as sad as their stories are, as we recreate their lives during war, we discover that unmistakable Anzac spirit. Their service records reveal much more than just their name, rank and serial number. It's that never-say-die attitude combined with a "she'll be right mate". It's the bravery under circumstances we can only imagine today. It's the larrikin Aussie whose every indiscretion is recorded - absent without leave during shore leave, a few blues, but rarely much more than that. It's the bravery under fire that is recorded and rewarded with medals.
They speak to us in their letters home about their daily life, what the weather was like, how their mates were, how good or bad the food was and how they spent their down-time in between orders.
However, it's the mateship that is most inspiring.
Within these pages we've told stories about the school friends who joined up and sailed away together to fight for their country, only to die together on some far-away beach.
There's the story of Frank Madden who, only days before his own death, was writing to families back home to give them the news they didn't want to hear - "I have three letters to write to people whose sons have been killed; using a trench phrase, 'it is fairly rotten', in other words, it is our last tribute of respect to our dead mates."
There's the story about the brother who joined up, hoping to find his missing brother but with no luck. The stories about heroes like Judy Masters, who saved the life of his mate yet would never see himself as a hero, simply a mate helping a mate.
Tomorrow as we commemorate the 100th anniversary of that fateful landing at Gallipoli, we pay tribute to all of our fallen service men and women, from all battlefields, from all wars.