The Chronicles of a Gay Gordon

Let us see what was going on in New South Wales. The Officer Commanding the Forces was Major-General Richardson, who had been in the regular forces, had retired, and had been appointed Commandant some years previously. The organization of the military forces of “the Mother Colony” was being brought into line with that of Victoria and South Australia. The other three colonies, Queensland, Western Australia and Tasmania, had been gradually following the lead given by the others, though, as in New South Wales, they had not as yet imported Imperial officers to take command.

Towards the close of 1884 the course of our campaign in Egypt was running anything but smoothly; in fact, the military situation was very serious and critical. Throughout the Empire a strong feeling of apprehension was rife, but it was left to New South Wales, the Mother State, to be the first of England’s children to make an offer of material help. Who first conceived the idea is not recorded, but the credit of crystallizing and giving it effect belongs to the late the Hon. John B. Dalley. This was not actually the first occasion on which Australians had offered to fight alongside English regular troops, for, at the time of the Maori War in New Zealand, volunteers from New South Wales and Victoria had raised units and joined in the fighting. But such action on their part had been looked upon as only natural. New Zealand was their next-door neighbour, really a sister colony, and it was to the best interests of Australia that she should be freed from the native menace.

The offer to send troops from the southern to the northern hemisphere was quite another affair. The thought which inspired that offer could not have arisen from any feeling of selfish interest. It was really the outward sign of the affection and love for the Old Country and home inherited by the colonists. Indeed, the rising Australian generation realized what a glorious and magnificent heritage the Mother Country had so generously and freely entrusted to the care of the early pioneers, their forbears. From the day when the first Englishman set foot in Australia and the first settlement was founded, right up to the year 1884, when the offer was made, no enemy had ever threatened Australia’s shores.

Australians rejoice that theirs is the only “virgin” continent in this world. From the day of its birth there had not been a drop of blood shed on its soil in the strife of war. No other country can make so glorious a boast. Yet it is true. It is not to be wondered at when, for the first time for a considerable number of years, a British army was reported to be in peril, Australia offered to share with them the burden and heat of the day. The British Government received the offer in the spirit in which it was made. It conveyed to Australians that it fully recognized the feelings of patriotism and unselfishness which had prompted the offer, and accepted it. A contingent composed of one battery of field artillery, one battalion of infantry and a field ambulance, was organized and equipped, and left Sydney Harbour in white troopships, carrying with them the best wishes of all.

As a result of communications between the South Australian and the New South Wales Governments it was decided to send two of the transports via Melbourne and Albany, with a promise that they would call at Adelaide if time permitted. Later on we heard that the troops would divert from the direct route, Melbourne to Albany, and would pass through Backstairs Passage into the Gulf of St. Vincent, continuing their journey through Investigator’s Straits. They would have no time to steam up St. Vincent’s Gulf to Adelaide, but they would “cry a halt” for a couple of hours, taking shelter in the smooth waters of Hogg’s Bay on the north shores of Kangaroo Island.

This was as much as they could do to fulfil their promise within their scheduled time. We arranged to proceed to Hogg’s Bay in the Protector to wish them good speed. The Government issued invitations for this historic trip. Then the news arrived that the troopships were timed to reach Hogg’s Bay at one o’clock in the morning. Fortunately the moon was nearly at its full. The Protector, with its valuable cargo on board, including myself, left Port Adelaide in the afternoon. The Government had taken on board several tons of fruits then in season, as well as a plentiful supply of fireworks. The worthy commander of the Protector arranged the speed of the ship so as to reach Hogg’s Bay just prior to the hour at which the troopships were expected. It was a glorious night, a calm sea. Presently the two white troopships loomed up in the offing, entered the shelter of the bay, and dropped anchor. There were no gun salutes, of course, but from the decks of the Protector soared hundreds of rockets. With bands playing the Protector made a tour round the anchored troopships. Cheers upon cheers rose from her decks, and, before their echoes could be heard, a thousand voices on the troopships cheered in response. Immense flares on shore lit up the sky, and the calm surface of the sea seemed as if on fire. It was an inspiring sight, and one not to be forgotten. The tour round the ships being concluded, boats were lowered from the Protector and visitors conveyed to the troopships.

Farewells took place. Though tempered by the personal regrets of those who were being left behind, their good wishes for their more fortunate comrades were genuine and straight from their hearts. One last toast, “Her Majesty the Queen”; one last song, “Auld Lang Syne.” Back to our boats and on board the Protector. The noise of the windlasses weighing the anchors was heard as the last of us reached the Protector’s decks. The troopships’ whistles resounded deep on the midnight air. The engines pulsed; the troopships moved and gathered speed. The strains of “Rule Britannia” filled our ears, then ceased, as the white ships, phantom-like in the haze, gradually disappeared. We arrived back at Port Adelaide in time for breakfast.

We will not follow the contingent’s history and its doings in Egypt, but I will quote a passage from Lord Wolseley’s dispatch dated June 15, 1885: —

“The Contingent’s work has been so satisfactory that I trust that the noble and patriotic example set by New South Wales may, should occasion arise, be followed by other colonies.”

Lord Wolseley’s hopes have been fully realized.

CHAPTER V

A TIME OF RETRENCHMENT

The term of office of General Owen began with the passing of the “Russian scare.” The finances of the colony were for the time being undergoing a period of depression. Economy had to be enforced, and General Owen’s first instructions from the Government were to recommend ways and means of effecting reductions to meet the decrease in the military vote. Major Jervois’s period of service as adjutant-general came to an end about this time, and the Commandant was informed that it was not proposed to have him replaced by another officer from England.

It was not practicable to carry on the administration without some qualified officer to assist the Commandant with his duties. The inspections of the country units by the Commandant at least once a year were necessary under the provisions of the Defence Act. During the periods of his absence on inspection tours the presence of a qualified deputy at headquarters was necessary. To overcome this difficulty he asked me if I would undertake the duties of adjutant-general in addition to those as Officer Commanding the Permanent Artillery. My answer was that I would do my best. So it came about that in some three years from my first appointment I had reached the position of practically Second-in-Command. The fulfilment of my vision seemed to be coming more quickly than my wildest dreams ever expected.

To carry out retrenchment is ever an unpleasant and thankless job, and the first six months of our new régime was no exception to the rule. If you remember, the military forces of the colony comprised no less than four separate systems – the Regulars or Permanent Artillery, the partially paid force, the Volunteers, and the rifle clubs. Each of them was serving under different regulations. Each also had its own interests to safeguard, and each its staunch supporters. As the pruning knife began its work, so, violent opposition arose from those to whom it was being applied. Presently, as the knife kept on moving, dissatisfaction became general. The supporters of each system wished for the retrenchment of the others and the maintenance of their own. This, of course, was specially the case with the partially paid and the volunteer forces. The first claimed that, with their greater efficiency, if the numbers were somewhat increased the colony would have a more reliable force than if the Volunteers were retained. On the other hand, the Volunteers claimed that, with more instruction and drill, they could be depended on to fight all right if the necessity arose, and the saving made by abolishing the pay of the partially paid forces would accomplish all the economy desired by the Government.

Shortly afterwards the annual session of Parliament opened, with the usual “floods of talk.” Members who were really concerned for the forces were up and fighting in the interests of the special system of retrenchment they advocated; the Government were disinclined to stick to their guns and insist upon the question being one for the Government to deal with. The result was the common one in such cases – the appointment of a Royal Commission to inquire into and report upon the conduct of the forces for the past year, and make such recommendations for retrenchment as the Commission should deem advisable. With the very limited staff at my disposal the strain became very severe. In addition the Commandant’s temper did not improve with these happenings. He was a bachelor, and had not the opportunities a married man has of forgetting official troubles when enjoying the comfort and happiness of his home. However, we pulled through, though the Commission sat for some considerable time, during which no amount of returns seemed to satisfy its cravings for information. The report of the Commission was by-and-by duly printed and submitted to the Government, which promised to lay it before Parliament on a suitable date for the information of Members, and after that the Government would make the opportunity for the fullest discussion by the House.

With the close of the year 1888 would come the completion of General Owen’s three years’ agreement with the Government. This agreement set out that at the end of three years the term of service could be further extended by two years by mutual consent.

Month after month passed away. The Commission sent in its report. When it was discussed in the House no final conclusion was arrived at. A second Commission was appointed, and by the time its report was presented to the Government and the House met, General Owen’s term of three years was coming to a close. It is not to be wondered that the condition of the forces was unsatisfactory, their numbers reduced, recruiting stopped, equipment wearing out, schools of instruction held only at rare intervals. It was a disheartening time for all of us. Enthusiasm lacked, and the officers and men were sick at heart.

As it was expedient for General Owen to notify the Imperial Government as to his future movements, he thought it advisable to approach Mr. Playford, then Minister of Defence, on the subject of the two years’ extension. The Hon. Thomas Playford, popularly known as “Honest Tom,” had been brought up working on his father’s market garden, which was situated in the hills not far from Morialta, the home of the Bakers. He was a great, tall, powerful, heavy man, much above the average size. At their interview General Owen referred to the terms of his agreement and diplomatically sought to discover whether the Government were agreeable to the two years’ extension. As I have pointed out, the general’s term of office had not been too happy a one. The report of the Commissions and the discussions in Parliament had given rise to a considerable amount of friction and many adverse comments in the Press. Mr. Playford pointed out to him that as Parliament was to be prorogued before Christmas he thought it advisable not to settle the question for the time being. He suggested that the general should reopen it after the prorogation. The Government would then be in recess, and as the House would not be sitting, no disagreeable questions could be raised by members. By making no final decision before the prorogation he, as Minister, was in a position, in case questions were asked, to reply that nothing had been decided, and that the matter was under the consideration of the Government. The general told me about this interview, and, talking it over, we came to the conclusion – especially as Mr. Playford had suggested to the general not to press for an answer just then – that he wished to reopen negotiations after the prorogation of the House, and that it was his intention to agree to the extension.

Parliament was prorogued. The general then sent an official letter to Mr. Playford, reopening the matter, concluding with a statement to the effect that if the Government were agreeable he, on his part, was prepared to carry on. He received no acknowledgment of his letter, but he did read next morning in the papers a statement, evidently inspired, to the effect that “the Commandant, General Owen, had notified the Ministerial head of the Department that he was willing to continue his duties for two years if the Government so desired. The Government, however, did not see their way to meet the general’s wishes.” I shall never forget that morning. The general came to the office in his uniform. As a rule he wore plain clothes unless he was on some special duty. I was not surprised at the state of mind he was in. The paragraph, on the face of it, and in the absence of any acknowledgment of the general’s letter, and considering the tenor of their interview early in December, appeared to be in the nature of a direct insult, almost premeditated. I sent off an orderly to the Government offices with a letter from the general requesting an interview with Mr. Playford as soon as possible.

The answer came back that the Minister was ready to see General Owen at once. Off went the general. I returned to my room, sat down, lit a pipe and began to think. It was not long before I heard him return. I didn’t wait to be sent for. I walked straight into his room. He was in such a temper that he could hardly speak. I felt that his interview must have been a very painful one. So it had. It had not been long. He told me the only few words that had taken place. The general appeared to have made some remark to the effect that it seemed to him that if the paragraph in the newspapers had been supplied by the Minister, or with his approval, such action was a direct insult, not only to himself personally, but also to the uniform he had the honour to wear.

The answer the general received from Mr. Playford fairly astonished me. It was something to the effect that “if the general had asked to see him to insult him, the sooner he left the room the better, or he would kick him out.” Nothing would suit the general for the moment but to send for the representatives of the Press and give them an account of the interview. I succeeded in altering his mind, and suggested that he should see the Chief Justice and the Governor first, and obtain their advice as to what action he should take.

This he did, and, as far as I remember, the unfortunate incident was never made public.

The general made his plans for returning to England at once. General Owen subsequently filled many important appointments. He was selected some years afterwards as Commandant of the Colony of Queensland. He was determined to get back on the South Australians and show them that there were other people in the world who appreciated his services, even if Mr. Playford and Co. had not done so. He afterwards commanded the artillery at Malta, and for a time was Acting-Governor of the island. Later on he held the position of president of the Ordnance Committee, the most scientific committee that I know of in our service.

Years later on it fell to me to have a tussle with Honest Tom when he was Minister for Defence in the Federal Government. About this more anon.

Immediately the general informed me of his decision to leave for England, the first thought that naturally came to my mind was, “Who is going to succeed him as Commandant?” I took steps to find out whether the Government had communicated by cable to England for a successor. They had not done so. That they had not taken any action in the matter seemed to me to point to the fact that the unfortunate words uttered in the interview which had ended so unhappily had not been premeditated by the Government; otherwise, one would think, they would have taken some steps to secure a successor. I bethought myself of our old Commandant, General Downes, then secretary to Sir Frederick Sargood in Victoria. I knew personally, from conversations that I had had with him during my visits to Melbourne, that the duties he was performing were not congenial to him. I at once wrote to him confidentially, told him of the catastrophe that had overtaken us, and asked him straight whether he was willing to take up the command in South Australia again if it was offered to him. He answered, “Yes, certainly, if it is offered.” I couldn’t possibly approach Playford in the matter. Playford, according to the general’s account, had been much too rude to my Commandant.

But there are always ways – quite straight, not crooked – of approaching those in power. Sufficient to say that the Government decided to offer the appointment to General Downes. During my conversations with those who had at the time the reins of Government in their hands it was suggested to me that I should be a candidate for the position. What an alluring prospect! Was my vision to come true so quickly? Though my work under General Owen had given him full satisfaction, and I had a good hold of all the senior commanding officers, I felt that it was too early in the day for me to accept so heavy a responsibility. I could afford to wait. Hence my suggestion to the Government to reappoint General Downes.

An interval of some two months took place from the time of General Owen’s departure and the arrival of General Downes from Melbourne. During this period I was appointed Acting Commandant, and I took my seat in that very chair in which General Downes had sat on the day he told me of my first appointment. The vision had been temporarily fulfilled. It was to be confirmed later on.

The first task I set to myself as Acting Commandant was to make a very close examination into the state of our finances. The official financial year closed on June 30.

The annual continuous camps of training were held during the Easter holidays. I determined to strain every effort to hold a record camp, at which every member of the force should be present. As soon as I was satisfied that I could carry out my wishes I wrote to General Downes, asking him to arrive in Adelaide, if suitable, the day after the troops had assembled in camp for their annual training, when I would hand over the command to him. All went well. I selected a site at a place called Keswick, near the Black Forest, just west of Adelaide. It was the locality that had been fixed upon in the local defence scheme for the assembly of the troops in case of invasion. We had a full muster. The general arrived and took command. He was welcomed by the officers and men alike. My responsibilities for the time being were over.

The success of General Downes’s previous term of command was a big factor in assisting him to obtain support from the Government and the public at large, and a somewhat generous increase in the military vote was made available. His first request to the Government was for the assistance of an Imperial officer as adjutant-general to relieve me from the onerous double duties I had fulfilled for three years during Owen’s term of office. The Government concurred at once. A cable was sent home. Within a few days the general was notified that Major Lovett, Somersetshire Light Infantry, had been appointed and was sailing at once from London for Adelaide. On his arrival I handed over to him my duties as adjutant-general.

General Downes was fully aware of the six years’ work that had fallen to my lot since the fateful January 2, 1882, the day on which he had notified me of my first appointment. He had, of course, watched from Victoria with keen interest our difficult and troublous times for the three years past.

With his usual forethought and kindness he suggested I should apply for six months’ leave. I thanked him heartily and sent in my application.

It was approved.

Oh, what joy!

CHAPTER VI

MY VISION FULFILLED

My voyage homewards on the Valetta was indeed a contrast to the three months spent on the good old clipper, the Waipa, on my way to New Zealand.

I had arrived in New Zealand in November, 1879, as you know, with practically nothing before me but a determined and firm resolve to make good somehow, without any assistance except that which I could give myself. Within ten years I was returning home, with a record of service of which I could be proud.

Within those ten years I had held the position of Acting Commandant of an important colony, with the temporary rank of full colonel, and was going home with the rank of major. If I had remained in the good old regiment I would have been fortunate if I had got my captaincy within that period. But what about the knowledge and experience I had gained, not only as a gunner, but as a staff officer, and, yet more, as an officer charged with grave responsibilities in the administration and command of troops, organized and maintained on lines differing totally from the hard and fast methods governing our Regular Army, but eminently suitable to the economic conditions of the healthy young colonies whose citizens were true to the core at heart in their patriotism and were ready to make many sacrifices to maintain the might of the Motherland?

For seven years my home had been in Adelaide. My friends had always cheered me on in my work. If the exuberance of youth, good health and the happiest of surroundings – all friends, and no foes that I knew of – had not made my life happy, the fault would have been my own. I am moralizing – the one thing I have been trying to avoid all through my tale. What really is in my mind is to point out to any youngster who reads this, and whose future suddenly becomes blurred and may appear hopeless, that if he relies on his own self, gives his truest instincts fair play, and determines to beat his bad luck and give to himself his best, he will more than likely succeed, as it was my good fortune to do.

Now let us get back on board the ss. Valetta, on the moonlight night when she weighed anchor off Largs Bay and I bade “adios” to the many friends who had accompanied me on board, and who, re-embarking on the Customs launch, followed the vessel down the gulf till the evening shades hid them from our sight. The five weeks spent on the Valetta on the homeward trip were indeed enjoyable. First, the weather was fine all the way. I do not think we had one really rough day. The ship was full; not an empty berth. A “land boom” was on at the time; there was plenty of money about, and most of the passengers were well-to-do men taking their families home to have a good time. Land booms I have heard described as speculations in land, owing to which men with, say, a few hundred pounds quickly become possessed of as many thousands (on paper, not in land). Presently the boom cracks, the thousands disappear. I am sorry to say that this actually happened later on to several of our passengers.

We arrived at Brindisi, and thence went overland to Calais; then Dover and good old London. What a pleasure it was to get back to the old club, stay at the old hotel, sit in the little balcony at Morley’s, gaze at Nelson’s monument, and walk round the old haunts! After a few days’ stay in London I went home to Wardhouse.

I had undertaken only one official matter to inquire into during my absence on leave. It was to report upon the method then in vogue for the supply of warlike material to the colonies. This method was as follows. An officer, at that time General Harding-Stewart, retired, was acting as military adviser and inspector of warlike stores to the several colonies. When any of the colonies ordered rifles, guns or other requirements, he procured them in London, working on commission. No doubt he meant well, but at the time I left Adelaide there were hardly two heavy guns alike in any of the colonies. A climax had been reached when New South Wales ordered two 10-inch muzzle-loaders similar to the two which South Australia had mounted at Fort Glanville. The New South Wales guns were supplied by the same firm. They arrived in Sydney and were mounted at Middle Head Fort. I visited Sydney at the time they were being mounted, and found that their calibre differed from the South Australian guns by a fraction of an inch, so that the ammunition was not interchangeable. As a matter of fact, there were but few guns of Imperial pattern in the whole of Australia; we were armed mostly with experimental guns of private firms.