His incredibly detailed letters home to his mother Alice were published in the South Coast Times and offer an invaluable firsthand account of his time abroad, including his landing at Gallipoli.

His diary notes and more than 30 detailed letters home are featured in War Letters 1914-1918, Volume 3 Frederick Muir.

The collection covers his departure from Australia, his training in Egypt, the April 25 landing on the Gallipoli peninsula and the fighting there until his death just before the final evacuation.

His records have been digitised as part of the Australian War Memorial's Anzac Connections project. The project aims to draw together information and sources related to individuals, and to present that information in one place.

Over the next few years the memorial will progressively add digitised versions of a broad selection of the private records of officers and soldiers from World War I to the website.

Fred's mother, Alice, had suffered heartbreak even before her son went off to war. Fred's father had died when Fred was just one-year-old, leaving Alice, who ran the local post office, to bring up Fred and his older brother James alone. According to warletters.net, a few years later, Alice suffered another terrible loss when James was shot dead at the bank where he had taken his first job. He was just 18.

Fred's battalion departed Sydney for Egypt aboard HMAT Afric in October 1914.

After training at Egypt, the Battalion left for the Dardanelles and the landing on April 25, 1915. He wrote home to his mother almost every week from the trenches, describing in detail his experiences at the front line.

In late November 1915, Fred was badly wounded and taken to a hospital ship, just off the coast of the peninsula. Unfortunately, on November 28 he succumbed to his wounds and was buried at sea. He is commemorated on the Lone Pine Memorial, Turkey.

Dear Mum,

At last after seven weeks on the water we are again safely on dry land and I can send a full description of the voyage. Taking things all round we had quite a good trip: good weather, plenty to eat and not too much work.1

We left Albany after being there a week. The ships were formed up in their lines with a battleship on each flank. We had to keep all our lights covered when we left on account of the “Emden” being loose somewhere in the vicinity. You would have smiled if you could have seen me with a close hair crop, dressed in an unspeakable suit of blue dungarees and white cloth hat and canvas shoes.

Although the “Afric” was fairly large there was not too much room, so we could only drill about 3 hours a day. The rest of the day was then at our own disposal. We spent most of our time on deck reading and sleeping. We slept in hammocks, which were quite comfortable when you got used the them, and we had about 500 magazines on board, which had been presented by the Red Cross Society and by the newspaper companies, and they proved most acceptable to while away the leisure hours. We also had a paper published on board called the “Kangaroo”, but this only published the Battalion news and such snaps of war news as we get by wireless. I will send a bundle of Kangaroos along as soon as I get the chance to do them up, and I want you to keep them for me as they are an interesting memento of the voyage.

The food on board was much superior to what we were accustomed to at Kensington. We got soup for dinner, also an occasional pudding or two, and cold meat and pickles for tea. We also had unaccustomed luxuries such as butter, milk, pepper, mustard, etc. and bacon and eggs for breakfast on Sundays. So, taken all round, the food was very good. We were divided up into messes of 18 who dined at the same table and slept together. Two of us took turns each week as mess orderlies, whose duties it was to get the meals, clear up the tables and sling the hammock. We also had a canteen on board where we could buy any small luxuries we desired, and we were allowed a pint of beer per day, per man, which proved quite acceptable in the hot weather.

We had plenty of amusements too: a glee club was formed, also a miniature orchestra, and concerts were given on deck every Saturday night and sometimes through the week. We had a representative of the Y.M.C.A. on board who looked after all the sports and also the library and distributed paper and envelopes free to the men. Every Wednesday afternoon was a half holiday for sports, and we had boxing and wrestling tournaments, etc. Every Sunday morning the Colonel read the church service as we had no minister aboard.

On Monday 9th November there was very great excitement on board as we learned that the “Sydney” had gone off in pursuit of the “Emden”. At about 9 o’clock the “Melbourne” and the Jap cruiser also left us and steamed full speed to the eastward. A little later on we got word by the wireless that the “Emden” had run aground on the Cocos Islands while the “Sydney” was pursuing her collier. There was great enthusiasm on receipt of the news. We had passed within 25 miles of the Cocos Islands about 6.30 that morning and must have actually sighted the “Emden”.

On Sunday 15th November we arrived at Ceylon. A welcome sight after seeing only water for 14 days. To us, unaccustomed to the glories of the East, Colombo seemed like a glimpse of fairyland. Brilliant yellow and orange butterflies came fluttering around the ship and the natives in their boats gathered around us on the water. The air there has a spicy smell and the sea and sky seem bluer and the sunlight is of a dazzling purity. The feathery palms, the red and white houses, the patches of vivid green vegetation, the native boats with their brown lateen sails in the foreground and the blue mountains towering into the clouds in the background all helped to impress the scene on our memory.

We sighted Egypt on Thursday [26 November] and arrived at Aden on Friday. Aden is a great contrast to Colombo: someone aptly described it is as “Port Hell”. High ragged cliffs rise precipitously out of the water on both sides, and forts and signal stations are perched dizzily on the top of these cliffs.

We left the next morning. It was then a five days run up the Red Sea to Suez where we received the advance guard of the hoards of Arabs, who attacked with all manner of goods for sale. It seems to be the chief ambition of every Arab to sell something to a British soldier at about four times its correct value. They brought us oranges, figs, dates, silks, handkerchiefs, curios, postcards and a hundred other things. It was almost impossible to get rid of them without using sheer force.

We stayed one day at Suez and then proceeded through the Canal to Port Said. The Canal is protected for its full length by Indian soldiers who are strongly entrenched on the banks. After two days at Port Said, we shifted to Alexandria where we lay for three more days before disembarking and entraining for Cairo on Tuesday [8 December].

Our passage from the ship to the train was attended by about 500 of the ubiquitous Arabs, all anxious to sell us something; they followed the train as long as possible, and fresh hoards arrived at every station on the journey like vultures. The train itself journey was very interesting. Outside the towns the Egyptian native has not changed much since the days of the Pharaohs. He still scratches the ground with a primitive wooden plough drawn by two oxen, lives in mud villages, some of which are fairly respectable but mostly resemble exaggerated rubbish heaps.

We arrived at Cairo about 8 o’clock, but by the time we had a cup of cocoa and arranged our baggage it was 11 o’clock. It was originally arranged that we should march out to our camp, which is 10 miles from Cairo, but at the last minute, greatly to our joy, we were provided with trams and arrived at our encampment at Mena about 2 o’clock in the morning.

I am actually writing this from a Cairo hotel as the facilities for writing at the camp are small. The hotel is largely frequented by Australians as there are good writing rooms, and we can get a warm bath and a good meal here very cheaply. I will tell you all about Cairo and our encampment here in my next letter as I must close or I will not be able to pay the postage.

I think we will have quite a good time here when we settle down but will write next mail and let you know how things are progressing. Trusting that everyone is well and will best wishes to all.

Yours affectionately,

Fred

Dear Mater,

Having still a little time on my hands I will continue the record of our doings from where I left off in my last letter. On Friday 23rd April the first of the transports sailed slowly out of Mudros Harbour amid cheers from the remaining boats and was followed at short intervals by others till darkness fell. At daybreak next morning the throb of the propellers warned us that we too were under way, and just as dawn was breaking we crept silently through the lines of troopships and battleships, past the boom of torpedo nets guarding the entrance and into the Aegean. Once out of the harbour we swung northwards along the coast, followed by ship after ship at regular intervals till there was a line as long as the eye could reach. At about 11 o’clock we dropped anchor in a small cove on the opposite side of the island, only about 40 miles from Gallipoli.

Preparations for disembarkation were now made in earnest: ammunition, picks and shovels were issued, water bottles filled, rifles inspected, emergency rations served out and final instructions read over once again. Next came the task of packing our kits – no light matter as henceforth everything we required had to be carried on our backs. This meant that many personal luxuries, letters, books, spare clothing and a host of other articles were ruthlessly consigned to the deep to lighten the load. These preparations concluded, we settled down again amid an atmosphere of suppressed excitement to await events.

We had been paid a few days previously and most of the men passed the time gambling with what remained of their loose cash. The powers that be were too busy to suppress this, so poker, and crown and anchor schools flourished. The tinkling of a couple of mandolins and snatches of the eternal soldiers songs added an air of festivity to the troop deck. During the afternoon a message was read from the King wishing us luck in our venture and also the following address from Sir Ian Hamilton.

“Soldiers of France and the King. Before us lies an adventure unprecedented in modern warfare. Together with our comrades of the fleet we are about to force a landing upon an open beach in face of positions which have been vaunted by our enemies as impregnable. The landing will be made good with the help of God and the Navy. The positions will be stormed and the war brought one step nearer a glorious close. ‘Remember,’ said Lord Kitchener, when bidding goodbye to your commander, ‘once you set foot on the Gallipoli Peninsula, you must fight the thing through to a finish.’ The world will be watching our progress. Let us prove ourselves worthy of the great feat of arms entrusted to us.”

As darkness fell a line of battleships took up their positions across the mouth of the bay, and everything was ready for the next act of the great drama. We snatched a few hours uneasy sleep, but at about 12 o’clock the shuddering of the deck beneath us showed that we were again on our way. If there is any truth in the old maxim, “the better the day, the better the deed,” this force should do well, as almost all our important moves were made on a Sunday. We left Sydney on Sunday, we arrived at Albany on Sunday and left Australian shores the following Sunday, we arrived at Colombo on Sunday, we left Suez on Sunday, we re-embarked on Sunday, and now again on the fateful day we were to land on the enemy’s shore.

Slightly before dawn we arrived off the coast of Gallipoli and crept continuously in towards the shore till we could just distinguish the clear outlines of the hills. The sight, in the half-light, was a memorable one: in front of us lay the black mass of the Peninsula, while on either side of us the dark shapes of the battleships and transports were barely visible in the gloom; not a light was visible in the whole fleet and no sound was to be heard.

Suddenly there came a flash of light from the shore followed by the roar of a gun and crackle of rifle fire, and we knew that the 3rd Brigade were fighting for a landing. The rifle fire grew stronger and more general, and we strove to see what was happening but could see nothing save the stabs of fire from the rifles and the flash of the big guns. As the light grew stronger, the battleships swung close to the shore and fired broadside after broadside into the hills where the flashes showed the enemy’s guns to be situated. At this point we were sent below for breakfast. After bolting a few hasty mouthfuls, we struggled into our equipment and lined up on deck to await disembarkation. By this time the hills in front echoed with the crackle of rifle fire and the roar of the guns as the fleet answered the shore batteries with deadly fire.

At 9 o’clock we received our orders and climbed down the steep side of the “Minnewaska” into the H.M.S. “Scourge”. Her decks packed well with troops, the little destroyer sheered off and darted towards the shore, cheered lustily by a shipload of Indians awaiting their turn to disembark. About 50 yards from the shore, the destroyer stopped and we tumbled unceremoniously over the side into the ship’s boats alongside, our movements considerably accelerated by the whistle of a few bullets overhead. As our boat drew away from the destroyer, the fort on Kaba Tepe to our left opened fire and shell after shell burst above us, the bullets churning up the water all around but doing no damage. Then H.M.S. “Euryalus”, standing close inshore, engaged the fort guns and we had the satisfaction of seeing columns of flame and smoke arising from the headland. Even as we watched, our boat grated on the stones, and we sprang out into the water and waded ashore to find ourselves at last on hostile soil …’

“As we went upwards we met a string of wounded returning to the rear, some limping painfully, others carried on stretchers. From these we learnt that the 3rd Brigade had captured two ridges and were fighting desperately for the third. Rushing over the crest of the hill we came for a moment under heavy rifle fire and a couple of our men fell. We then went down into the gully and over a slight rise, breasting the side of the hill the men were holding. By this time we had left our original track and were compelled to pick our way as best we could through the scrub. In this mad rush onwards, company was separated from company and platoon from platoon, so that when at last we reached the crest of the hill we had but half a company, the remainder having become broken off unnoticed. ”