Five Diggers laid to rest
Lost for 90 years
(source DVA) Jack and Jim Hunter sat down under a tree to water their horses and have a quick bite to eat before continuing their journey. They still had six
hours of riding ahead of them before they would see their old homestead again. Back in 1914 when the call to war rang out across Australia, thousands of eager young men joined the queues outside recruitment offices in high spirits, ready to sign up for the big adventure. Like many others, the brothers had been keen to go, but their excited talk of overseas travel was soon cut short by their father, Harry. He had argued that they were needed more at home than they were for the war. Being a pioneering family in outback Queensland, near the small town of Nanango, meant that all the family were needed to help on the property. Their father’s timber business was just starting to thrive, but his health wasn’t the best. Still grieving the loss of his wife, Emily, which had left him to raise the seven children, he relied on his boys to help him, particularly his eldest son Jack, who was his right hand man. Jack managed the timber interests, the cattle, bullock and horse teams, a mill, and the steam traction engines and winch. Everyone was saying that the war was likely to be over by Christmas, and it seemed a waste of time to go through all that effort just to come home again in a few months, so the boys had obeyed their father’s wishes. But the war didn’t finish at Christmas, and throughout the next year the brothers followed with great
interest the story of the Anzacs fighting on Gallipoli. They felt torn between wanting to do their bit to help their country, and doing what was needed for their family. When the Australians withdrew from Gallipoli and started fighting in France, along the Western Front, the number of casualties rose sharply. Jim felt that he could no longer stay at home, and so on 20 October 1916 he signed up. He was 25 and did not need his father’s permission to join the army. Jack didn’t want his younger brother to go to war without him, so he signed up two days later. They finished their initial training and went on their final leave with only six days off before they needed to report back to
their commanding officer. The trip home had already taken 15 hours by train, and they were only half-way through the 12 hour ride that followed. There really
wasn’t going to be much time for their plans to muster and sell cattle, transfer property, and see friends and relatives. It was December and starting to heat
up, so despite enjoying their rest in the shade, they needed to get going, as home was still a long way off.It was wonderful to see their family again. Sisters Polly, Daisy, and May, and younger brothers Archie and Bill all crowded around, vying with each other for their big brothers’ attention. While there was a sense of celebration, it was overshadowed by the unexpressed fear, that they may never come home again. They had all seen the long lists in the paper, the names of those who would never return and the messages of sorrow and grief from their families left behind. Jack took time to make a private farewell to the girl he had promised to marry. Now he needed tmake a new promise – that he would keep himself safe so he could come back to her. But he also made a promise to his little brother Jim that he would look out for him. They would go on this adventure together and he would keep Jim safe.
The town sent them off in style with a presentation evening and public farewell for both the Hunter brothers, and for two other local boys, Phil Therkeisen and Dan Buckley, who were also at home on their final leave. What none of these four realised that night was that one of them would never return. During their training, Jack and Jim were inseparable. Jim was promoted to lance corporal, but when he discovered he would be separated from his brother, he happily returned to the rank of private to stay wit Jack. In late January 1917, they embarked on the troopship HMAT Ayrshire for the long journey to the other side of the world. By the time the brothers arrived to take their place fighting on the Western Front, almost a year had passed since they first signed up. They joined the 49th Battalion, made up mostly of Queenslanders, stationed in Belgium, in an area that came to be known as Flanders fields.What Jack and Jim saw around them was truly horrific. The landscape had been blown apart and the constant rain had turned the area into a quagmire. Miles of wooden duckboards were laid over the mud, but they could see how difficult it was to move the troops across these boards, and they wondered how they could ever move supplies through the mud. They were told that the artillery was having trouble maintaining its accuracy as
every time the guns fired they would sink a little bit further into the thick mud.
In late September 1917, shortly after settling in to the routine of their new lives, Jack and Jim received word that they would be moving up to
the frontline, ready to fight in their first battle. The area they had to capture from the Germans was called Polygon Wood and hidden amongst the trees were reinforced concrete bunkers known as pillboxes. The Australians move into their positions under cover of darkness at 1.30am; the attack would start
before dawn.In the early morning light, Jack was ordered out into no man’s land to retrieve a piece of metal that was reflecting light into the eyes of the troops further along the trench. While he was out, he was hit by shrapnel. Badly wounded, he managed to crawl back to the trench where Jim was waiting for him. However, unable to get the medical assistance his injuries required, Jack died in his brother’s arms soon afterwards. The battle, and Jack’s life, was over
before breakfast.Devastated, Jim wrapped him carefully in his groundsheet,tied it up with wire, and buried him in a temporary cemetery near the little township of Westhoek, along with four others who had been killed that day. Jim’s battalion was relieved the next day and moved out, so he had to leave his
brother behind.The war continued and, despite being wounded and gassed, Jim fought on without Jack. But his brother’s death was a heavy burden on him. As
soon as the fighting stopped, Jim returned to Westhoek, and tried to find Jack’s grave. His dearest wish was that he could bring his big brother home again. As
he looked out over the battlefield where they had been two years earlier, the weed strewn landscape bore little resemblance to the muddy battlefield he
remembered. He was unaware that a road had been built over the place where he had buried Jack; he may even have walked right over his grave without realising.
Jim returned home to Australia; his grieving father thought Jim should go back and continue to try to find Jack’s grave, but he was never able to do so. Eventually Jim had the life his brother never did, marrying the matron of the Nanango hospital, Esme Butler, and having a family of six children. But he never forgot his brother, often talking about him and the friendship they shared. In the last moments of his life, Jim called out for his brother Jack. In 1927, ten years after Jack’s death, the Menin Gate Memorial was built in Belgium. The inscription on it reads:Here are recorded names of officers and men who fell in Ypres Salient, but to whom the fortune of war denied the
known and honoured burial given to their comrades in death. Jack’s name was one of more than 50,000 that went on the Memorial, over 6,000 of them
belonging to Australians.In June 2006, the remains of five First World War soldiers were found when a road was dug up to lay a new gas pipeline in Belgium.
The remnants of their uniforms identified them as Australian, so some Australian
archaeologists were contacted to excavate the remains. Upon examination of the five bodies, one stood out from the others. He had been placed carefully in the grave, his hands crossed over his heart, and his body methodically wrapped up in a groundsheet. They knew when they saw this, that he had been buried by someone
who loved him. There were no personal effects found that could help identify the five soldiers, but painstaking research from the Army History Unit
narrowed down the possibilities to seven individuals. These seven names were published around Australia in the hope of finding living relatives who could supply samples of DNA to identify the five sets of remains. Mollie Millis saw the names and wondered whether the ‘John Hunter’ that was listed was her Uncle Jack,as he would have enlisted under his proper name John, rather than his nickname. Her DNA correctly identified Jack’s remains, and the Hunter family
finally felt they had an end to this wartime story. Jim’s son, Harry, had hoped that they could at last follow his grandfather’s wishes and bring Jack home, but
he was to stay forever in the country where he had fought and died.
On Remembrance Day 2007, 90 years after Jack Hunter was killed, he was reinterred at Buttes New British Cemetery in Polygon Wood. Sprigs of wattle and a slouch
hat were laid on the coffin. Mollie Millis and one of Jack’s nephews, another Jim Hunter were there for the ceremony. On his tomb stone are engraved the words ‘At rest after being lost for 90 years’. No longer did the Menin Gate Memorial need to bear his name. His ‘known and honoured burial’ was now complete.
THEY were lost for 90 years, killed in the slush of the Passchendaele battles and now finally at rest and remembered.
(source DVA) Jack and Jim Hunter sat down under a tree to water their horses and have a quick bite to eat before continuing their journey. They still had six
hours of riding ahead of them before they would see their old homestead again. Back in 1914 when the call to war rang out across Australia, thousands of eager young men joined the queues outside recruitment offices in high spirits, ready to sign up for the big adventure. Like many others, the brothers had been keen to go, but their excited talk of overseas travel was soon cut short by their father, Harry. He had argued that they were needed more at home than they were for the war. Being a pioneering family in outback Queensland, near the small town of Nanango, meant that all the family were needed to help on the property. Their father’s timber business was just starting to thrive, but his health wasn’t the best. Still grieving the loss of his wife, Emily, which had left him to raise the seven children, he relied on his boys to help him, particularly his eldest son Jack, who was his right hand man. Jack managed the timber interests, the cattle, bullock and horse teams, a mill, and the steam traction engines and winch. Everyone was saying that the war was likely to be over by Christmas, and it seemed a waste of time to go through all that effort just to come home again in a few months, so the boys had obeyed their father’s wishes. But the war didn’t finish at Christmas, and throughout the next year the brothers followed with great
interest the story of the Anzacs fighting on Gallipoli. They felt torn between wanting to do their bit to help their country, and doing what was needed for their family. When the Australians withdrew from Gallipoli and started fighting in France, along the Western Front, the number of casualties rose sharply. Jim felt that he could no longer stay at home, and so on 20 October 1916 he signed up. He was 25 and did not need his father’s permission to join the army. Jack didn’t want his younger brother to go to war without him, so he signed up two days later. They finished their initial training and went on their final leave with only six days off before they needed to report back to
their commanding officer. The trip home had already taken 15 hours by train, and they were only half-way through the 12 hour ride that followed. There really
wasn’t going to be much time for their plans to muster and sell cattle, transfer property, and see friends and relatives. It was December and starting to heat
up, so despite enjoying their rest in the shade, they needed to get going, as home was still a long way off.It was wonderful to see their family again. Sisters Polly, Daisy, and May, and younger brothers Archie and Bill all crowded around, vying with each other for their big brothers’ attention. While there was a sense of celebration, it was overshadowed by the unexpressed fear, that they may never come home again. They had all seen the long lists in the paper, the names of those who would never return and the messages of sorrow and grief from their families left behind. Jack took time to make a private farewell to the girl he had promised to marry. Now he needed tmake a new promise – that he would keep himself safe so he could come back to her. But he also made a promise to his little brother Jim that he would look out for him. They would go on this adventure together and he would keep Jim safe.
The town sent them off in style with a presentation evening and public farewell for both the Hunter brothers, and for two other local boys, Phil Therkeisen and Dan Buckley, who were also at home on their final leave. What none of these four realised that night was that one of them would never return. During their training, Jack and Jim were inseparable. Jim was promoted to lance corporal, but when he discovered he would be separated from his brother, he happily returned to the rank of private to stay wit Jack. In late January 1917, they embarked on the troopship HMAT Ayrshire for the long journey to the other side of the world. By the time the brothers arrived to take their place fighting on the Western Front, almost a year had passed since they first signed up. They joined the 49th Battalion, made up mostly of Queenslanders, stationed in Belgium, in an area that came to be known as Flanders fields.What Jack and Jim saw around them was truly horrific. The landscape had been blown apart and the constant rain had turned the area into a quagmire. Miles of wooden duckboards were laid over the mud, but they could see how difficult it was to move the troops across these boards, and they wondered how they could ever move supplies through the mud. They were told that the artillery was having trouble maintaining its accuracy as
every time the guns fired they would sink a little bit further into the thick mud.
In late September 1917, shortly after settling in to the routine of their new lives, Jack and Jim received word that they would be moving up to
the frontline, ready to fight in their first battle. The area they had to capture from the Germans was called Polygon Wood and hidden amongst the trees were reinforced concrete bunkers known as pillboxes. The Australians move into their positions under cover of darkness at 1.30am; the attack would start
before dawn.In the early morning light, Jack was ordered out into no man’s land to retrieve a piece of metal that was reflecting light into the eyes of the troops further along the trench. While he was out, he was hit by shrapnel. Badly wounded, he managed to crawl back to the trench where Jim was waiting for him. However, unable to get the medical assistance his injuries required, Jack died in his brother’s arms soon afterwards. The battle, and Jack’s life, was over
before breakfast.Devastated, Jim wrapped him carefully in his groundsheet,tied it up with wire, and buried him in a temporary cemetery near the little township of Westhoek, along with four others who had been killed that day. Jim’s battalion was relieved the next day and moved out, so he had to leave his
brother behind.The war continued and, despite being wounded and gassed, Jim fought on without Jack. But his brother’s death was a heavy burden on him. As
soon as the fighting stopped, Jim returned to Westhoek, and tried to find Jack’s grave. His dearest wish was that he could bring his big brother home again. As
he looked out over the battlefield where they had been two years earlier, the weed strewn landscape bore little resemblance to the muddy battlefield he
remembered. He was unaware that a road had been built over the place where he had buried Jack; he may even have walked right over his grave without realising.
Jim returned home to Australia; his grieving father thought Jim should go back and continue to try to find Jack’s grave, but he was never able to do so. Eventually Jim had the life his brother never did, marrying the matron of the Nanango hospital, Esme Butler, and having a family of six children. But he never forgot his brother, often talking about him and the friendship they shared. In the last moments of his life, Jim called out for his brother Jack. In 1927, ten years after Jack’s death, the Menin Gate Memorial was built in Belgium. The inscription on it reads:Here are recorded names of officers and men who fell in Ypres Salient, but to whom the fortune of war denied the
known and honoured burial given to their comrades in death. Jack’s name was one of more than 50,000 that went on the Memorial, over 6,000 of them
belonging to Australians.In June 2006, the remains of five First World War soldiers were found when a road was dug up to lay a new gas pipeline in Belgium.
The remnants of their uniforms identified them as Australian, so some Australian
archaeologists were contacted to excavate the remains. Upon examination of the five bodies, one stood out from the others. He had been placed carefully in the grave, his hands crossed over his heart, and his body methodically wrapped up in a groundsheet. They knew when they saw this, that he had been buried by someone
who loved him. There were no personal effects found that could help identify the five soldiers, but painstaking research from the Army History Unit
narrowed down the possibilities to seven individuals. These seven names were published around Australia in the hope of finding living relatives who could supply samples of DNA to identify the five sets of remains. Mollie Millis saw the names and wondered whether the ‘John Hunter’ that was listed was her Uncle Jack,as he would have enlisted under his proper name John, rather than his nickname. Her DNA correctly identified Jack’s remains, and the Hunter family
finally felt they had an end to this wartime story. Jim’s son, Harry, had hoped that they could at last follow his grandfather’s wishes and bring Jack home, but
he was to stay forever in the country where he had fought and died.
On Remembrance Day 2007, 90 years after Jack Hunter was killed, he was reinterred at Buttes New British Cemetery in Polygon Wood. Sprigs of wattle and a slouch
hat were laid on the coffin. Mollie Millis and one of Jack’s nephews, another Jim Hunter were there for the ceremony. On his tomb stone are engraved the words ‘At rest after being lost for 90 years’. No longer did the Menin Gate Memorial need to bear his name. His ‘known and honoured burial’ was now complete.
THEY were lost for 90 years, killed in the slush of the Passchendaele battles and now finally at rest and remembered.