The history of man is the history of warfare.
Over 200,000 Australian men died during World War One. There were so many men who perished that there was a generation of women who died unwed. Think of the children who were not born! Think of the inventors, great minds and world changers among them. No doubt the world would be a very different place if the war had not happened.
I will tell you a story about an Australian family during WW1, a typical story in many respects.
Mr. And Mrs. George Mackay of Bendigo had four children: Molly, Eric, Murdoch and Dawn. Dawn was the only member of the family to have children of her own, and I am her direct decent. Both her brothers were drafted into the Infantry Brigade and both managed to survive Gallipoli yet each died later, Murdoch on the western front in Poitiers. Molly lived until her late 90s but like many women of her generation, never married.
Murdoch finished the then equivalent of year twelve when he was just 14. He was 16 when in 1607 he began studying law at Melbourne University, as a resident of Ormond college. He obtained several prizes, honours and scholarships throughout university, and at the age of 20 was awarded his master of laws as he obtained first class honours for the fourth straight year, and won the University scholarship and the Supreme Court Judges’ exhibition.
Admitted to the bar at 21, Murdoch began practising. Three years later he 1915 he appeared in his first High Court Case. Murdoch was married a week before he sailed to war.
Major Mackay was just twenty-five and a half when he fell in the fight for Pozieres Ridge. He had been on active service for over fifteen months and had not been a day absent from duty through sickness or any other cause. When he was killed he was in perfect health, which his mental and physical powers unimpaired.
When Murdoch was killed, his father published a memoir which he entitled “For the Empire”. In it is an unemotional eulogy, which simply states the accomplishments of Murdoch before he was sent to war. Also contained in the booklet sized memoir are printed copies of letters that Murdoch sent from the front, as well as testimonials from fellow soldiers and friends.
In his book ‘The Happy Warrior’, James Burns describes Murdoch thus:
“His bright spirit still tenants the hearts of those who love him. He remains with us as on that day we bade him farewell in all the pride and glory of his young manhood. Age cannot wrinkly his brow nor mar the youthful brightness of his face, sickness cannot now despoil him; he lives imperishably fair, crowned with the garland of immortal youth. And not only to those who love him does his life remain as a perpetual enrichment. In all life laid down at the call of duty there is something imperishable, because sacrificial. He lives in the case for which he laid down his life. We are debtors to him, and to all those gallant sons of the Empire, who for our defence hold not their lives dear to themselves. No life, however humble, thus given, is given in vain. The spirit of it lives in all that is noblest in a nation’s life, and remains a perpetual inspiration to generations yet unborn.”
Even if Murdoch had survived the war I know he would be dead now. But I can't help but feel sad that I will never know him. He died younger than me. It seems so tragic that he wasn't able to come back to Australia and resume his life, have a career, have children, have grandchildren. His history just stops, in France, in 1917.
Reading the testimonials and Murdoch’s letters gives me a clue to his personality. In a letter to his family from the front in Murdoch mentions his desire for a return to a normal life;
“my dearest ambition has always been centred round a happy home life rather than in outstanding success in any other direction....I am not taking any but an optimistic view of my present lot, and when this hateful war is over may I be spared to indulge my desire for a quiet and peaceful and very happy home life...”
Murdoch wrote the following just before he was sent to France:
While in France, my family and I took a trip to Posiers (about 2 hours north of Paris) in search of where Murdoch is buried. At the grave site we paid our respects. We laid a poppy next to the grave that marked his name. My father and I walked up to a gardener who was busy keeping the memorial immaculate. Not a blade of grass is out of place. Dad thanked him in English, with tears in his eyes.
There is one other plaque that bears Murdoch’s name- that is at Ormomd college at The University of Mebourne where he was a law student. After ww1 the people at Ormond had grace to commemorate the study where each past student roomed before they were sent off to their deaths. This serves as a reminder of the boys these soldiers were before they died as men far away in a foreign place.
