“A record beyond price”

The Australian War Records Section (AWRS) was formed in London in May 1917 at the request of Charles Bean, Australia’s official historian of the First World War. By this stage, the war had been raging for almost three years, creating a legacy of trauma and hardship that people far away in Australia could scarcely imagine. Led by Captain John Treloar, the AWRS had an enormous task: to organise and preserve the record of Australia’s involvement in the war for those at home. Over the following years, the AWRS collected almost 25,000 documents and objects. The task of bringing this collection home started in 1919, as veterans too began the long journey back to Australia. By the end of the year, half the collection had arrived in Melbourne for storage, and the rest was expected within a month.

When the last pieces of the collection reached Australia, however, it left unresolved the question of what should be done with it all in the meantime. Bean had plans for a permanent museum and memorial to those who had served in the Great War, but there was much work to be done to set this in motion. An exhibition of photographs from the war opened in Sydney in 1920; among the public there was great interest in the war and the experiences of their loved ones, both those who had returned, and those who had not. Lieutenant General Sir Harry Chauvel described the display as the “best collection of war photographs that has been got together,” The Sydney Morning Herald noted. “The exhibition is truly remarkable and appealing, not only because of its artistic and comprehensive character, but mainly because it portrays scenes of conflict in which the gallant Australians took part.”

Melbourne

Given the enthusiastic reaction in Sydney, it was decided to temporarily display the national collection in Melbourne. Not only would it feed the public’s desire to understand the war, but it was hoped that the display would garner support for a permanent Memorial, which Bean was seeking to establish in the new capital, Canberra. The first exhibition of the Australian War Museum, as it was then known, was opened to the public on Anzac Day 1922 in Melbourne’s Royal Exhibition Building. Large displays – including guns, trench mortars, pontoons, tanks and other military and naval equipment – were displayed in the grounds outside the museum. Inside, the exhibits were arranged to guide visitors through each section in the proper sequence. Major battles, medicine and even digger humour were covered in the displays which Lieutenant General Sir John Monash, who had commanded the Australian Corps in 1918, described as “a Mecca for Australians”. One of the most significant displays was a uniform still dirty with mud from the trenches, as described by The Sun newspaper.

The war records department caught him just as he staggered back from the front line, he was caked with mud, he was badly wanting a shave, what was left of his uniform was torn by wire and slashed by bullets, his tin hat had a hole in it, he was down and out and fed up with the whole show! He was photographed from every angle, his awful uniform was stripped off him, every care being taken not to dislodge the mud, and that uniform and its accoutrements were carefully salved and put away so the Australians of this and succeeding generations could see it for themselves, the authentic life sized figure of the bloke who won the war, and how he won it.

The newspaper predicted this display would be a ‘most popular figure’ and it certainly was. The uniform is still on display in the Memorial’s galleries today, as it has been almost continuously since 1922. Its owner, Private George Giles MM of the 29th Battalion, went unnamed in the galleries until many years later.

Despite amassing thousands of notable objects during the war itself, the Museum continued to accept donations to its growing collection, calling for the public to consider offering items to help tell the story of Australia’s Great War. One item that Treloar hoped to obtain was a sulphur crested cockatoo named “Cocky”. Cocky had been lent to the soldiers’ rest home at Wirth’s Park to cheer up the convalescing men and act as their mascot. Taught by the soldiers themselves, he eventually learned to swear and learned other phrases too, such as “Show your pass!” and “Go on, you’re a German!” Afraid that Cocky might be killed after donation, his owners decided hold onto him until he had died before passing him on to the museum. Treloar received a call from a woman who told him, “Cocky is dead. If you want him, you must hurry, they are burying him today.” A museum official was sent by taxi to retrieve Cocky, justifying the expense with the explanation, “Taxi was used in the recovery of the body of a dead bird.” When people later asked about the significance of the bird, museum staff joked that he had been used to carry verbal messages at the front. Though this was untrue, Cocky nevertheless had found his place in the record of Australia’s Great War.

The success of the museum in Melbourne prompted other states, particularly New South Wales, to argue that more Australians should have access to its collection. Though most states had already been allocated some relics from the war, most still felt it was only fair that other states, not just Victoria, should be allowed to host the exhibition. Sir Charles Rosenthal, who had commanded the AIF’s 2nd Division during the war, argued just this, writing to the Sydney Morning Herald: “Any influence that individual citizens or the public generally can bring to bear on responsible authorities with a view to extending the privilege so long enjoyed by citizens of Victoria to citizens of New South Wales, and indeed of other states as well, will certainly be a well-directed effort.”

Following the selection of a site for the permanent memorial at the foot of Mount Ainslie in Canberra in 1923, it was decided that the collection should be shared, and would be sent to Sydney during the construction period in Canberra. In January 1925, the Melbourne exhibition closed its doors after a season of three years, during which more than 780,000 visitors had inspected its displays. The exhibition had received great praise, The Recorder noting, “The Australian has before him in this museum, its paintings, its photographs, its trophies and its shreds of great tragedy – a record beyond price.” Interest levels in the Australian experience of war had led to record visitation levels which Sydney believed it could rival.

Sydney

“There is no memorial of the Great War more fitting than the memorial within the walls of the museum,” said Senator Pearce at the opening of the exhibition on 3 April 1925. More than 1,100 tonnes of collection items had been moved by rail and ship to Sydney, where they would remain for over a decade. Before doors had even opened at Sydney’s Prince Alfred Park, the significance of the museum was clear. Governor General Lord Forster said: “You have heard of the fame of Australia’s sons, you have heard the entire story of their great doings, and now you will have an opportunity of seeing some of the awful conditions under which those great things were done. When you see these things within the building, let your minds be flooded with the memory of what these men have done, and what you owe to them.” On its opening weekend, the Sydney exhibition welcomed more than 10,000 visitors; many more would visit over the decade which followed.

Among the visitors were the diggers themselves, who revisited wartime experiences while guiding friends and relatives through the winding galleries. This was a chance to help their loved ones understand what they had been through. Others used the museum to tell the stories of their mates who never made it home. Company Quartermaster Sergeant Linklater examined the displays of handmade grave markers, some which he had crafted. “S’funny,” he pondered. “Some of my own work … poor old Yank. I remember Yank well.” Another veteran brought his comrade’s mother to see the plan of Villers-Bretonneux, where her son had been killed. “That’s where Bill is,” the mother whispered. The dioramas, many of which are still on display today, were exceedingly popular for this reason. Bringing battle scenes to life, the dioramas allowed veterans to point out the places where they had fought and been wounded. As The Herald noted, “The mother will see, far better than any map or photograph could show her, the nature of the country in which her boy battled and struggled during the nights she lay awake, picturing him away in a foreign country.” For many, this was as close as they would get to their sons, brothers, mates and husbands who had paid the ultimate price. The museum, as The Sun noted, was full of “bitter sweet memories”.

Like the Melbourne exhibition, the displays in Sydney contained countless precious relics of war. As The Sydney Morning Herald noted, “Every exhibit, from the tiniest fragment of shell to the giant aeroplane has a history; every one is the emblem of some heroic deed – a silent, eloquent witness to the deathless valour of the Australian soldier or sailor.” Among the displays was the ship’s bell from the German cruiser SMS Emden which told the story of the first victory of Australia’s navy. The bell had previously been on display at Garden Island, until it was mysteriously stolen in 1932. It was found buried in the Domain almost a year later, and with the rise of German nationalism, it was felt that the bell would be safer in the hands of the War Memorial Museum. It was donated and proudly displayed in the galleries, securely attached by thick iron bolt to a heavy pedestal, which was bolted to the ground.

Within two months of its recovery, the bell was again stolen in April 1933. With no signs of forced entry to the museum, it appeared that the bell had been taken during opening hours, in broad daylight. After a lengthy investigation, the bell was recovered some nine months later, buried more than a metre underground in Melbourne’s Royal Park. The same man, 30-year-old German immigrant Charles Kaolmel, had been responsible for both thefts. On the first occasion, he had taken a small boat to Garden Island where he undid the bolts which secured the bell, and made his way back to shore with the relic under cover of darkness. His second theft was more daring. Disguised as a tradesman, he had entered the Sydney exhibition during opening hours, and used a hacksaw to cut through the bolt which held the bell to its pedestal, before carrying it through a nearby fire escape and into a waiting truck. Given that the bell required three men to move it, the second disappearance in broad daylight was almost unthinkable. After it was recovered in November of 1933, it was decided that it was safer not display the real thing. Treloar then had a replica of the bell made, which was displayed in the galleries for 40 years. Today, the original bell, with its chequered past, is on display in the Memorial’s First World War galleries in Canberra.

In January 1935, the Sydney exhibition closed its doors, having welcomed more than two and a half million visitors during its ten years in Prince Alfred Park. Its collections were carefully packed for the journey to Canberra, where they remained stored until the permanent museum was completed.

Canberra:

On 11 November 1941, 23 years since the Armistice brought an end to the First World War, more than 5,000 people attended the official opening of the Australian War Memorial in Canberra. As the crowd pondered the monument, the fact that the nation was now two years into a second world war could not be ignored. In his speech, the Governor General, Lord Gowrie, said:

When we read those casualty lists that are published once again, let us ask ourselves – what can we do for those who did so much? What can we give to those who gave their all? Our answer shall be that those heroes shall not have died in vain – that we are prepared to make any sacrifice to put an end to this diabolical menace to mankind and to ensure the peace of the world for generations to come. When at last we wake from the hideous nightmare of modern war, and when peace loving citizens can once again resume their daily tasks, they will, from time to time, visit this shrine. To many, it will revive memories of those they have loved and lost. To others, it will conjure up hopes and visions of a better, a happier and a saner world … and all when we gaze on this monument will declare in no uncertain voice: never again, never again.

And with that, the gates of the Memorial were swung silently open to the public, a permanent reminder of the legacy of war.

You can purchase your copy of Wartime 100 here: