An ending and a beginning.

Home is the Soldier...

The war finally came to an end, 11/11/1918. Bernie came home on the HMAT Takada and disembarked 4/9/19 . He was finally discharged from the Army 12/10/19. He never spoke about the War, unless he had a few drinks. He never missed an Anzac Day March and always wore his RSL badge with pride.

Claire remembers him going each year, come rain or shine down to the Nuriootpa railway station to travel to Adelaide for the annual march.


His mother was no doubt relieved that both her sons had returned safe and physically unharmed.  What the mental toll of the War had on both men is not recorded. As today's soldiers return it is recognized that the War for them does not end, they carry it with them for the rest of their lives.  Claire recalled a time when she was 3 or 4, a huge thunderstorm struck. She can vividly remember looking for her father and fining him. She looked under the bed and saw his big eyes looking back at her.  It would seem that he never really settled down. He worked in various jobs, store-man, shearer and shearer's cook. In the late 1920's he found work building the Blanchetown Lock and Weir in South Australia.

Vera Devlin circa 1940

The girl with the long blonde hair.

One night he attended a dance and saw a young girl, wearing a green dress with small flowers in the pattern. She had long blonde hair. She was sixteen. Elvira Mercia Fischer, a teacher at the Blanchetown School.

It is not certain that he fell in love with her, but she was besotted by his attention. Perhaps as a young girl she hero worshiped the returning soldier.

Robert McBeath 

Her Uncles Hugh (3827)  and Robert McBeath had fought in Egypt and France with the 10th Battalion. Her Uncle Hugh, a member of the 5th Division Cyclist Battalion was discharged and returned in August 1917 with pleurisy.


 Sadly, Uncle Robert was KIA 25 February, 1917. He was shot by a sniper whilst a stretcher bearer. He had been at the front less than two months.





Bernie and Vera were married in 1928. They had three children, a daughter, Claire, and two sons Andrew and John.  I heard many of the stories in this story from my father, John, my Aunt Claire and my Grandmother.

Generations

Their stories have stayed with me. I cannot say I was close to my Poppa Bernie, he seemed more at home among the men. He drank to excess and he could be grumpy at times. My sister, who is 10 years younger, remembers him with great affection. We holidayed each year at their tiny little home in Blanchetown, near the Murray River.

Those days, under the watchful eyes of our grandparents we roamed free and had the best of times.

A few years ago, Claire sent me a photo.

L-R Back row Claire Surman, Bernie Devlin
Front row - Tony Surman and Louisa Devlin

It is a photo of my grandfather, and his generations. He stands behind mother, next to his daughter and her son. On the lapel of his suit jacket is his returned serviceman’s badge. My cousin, his first grandson stood tall for a small boy. He would grow into the boots of a Vietnam Veteran. My grandfather looked  slightly younger than the man I would know. It would be another five or so years before I could come to visit.

It would be fifteen years before he would stand on the veranda and watch me push my brother over the bank of the creek strapped into a billy cart. His words still echo in my mind,

“You will kill that boy, Claire” he stated with authority.

I stood watching my brother, tied fast to the frame of the tumbling cart by a number of Dad's good suit belts, grimly staring death in the eye. I replied automatically,

“My name is Cathy, Poppa”.

I scurried down the creek wall to untie my shattered brother. His tough, seven year old, body lay trembling in the wreck of our vehicle.

Poppa’s face peered over the edge of the bank, noticed the lack of blood, tears or obvious broken bones, observed the two of us straightening the chassis and beginning the journey back up the creek wall. He heard our conversation as my brother volunteered to descend again. Young Bernie stood emphatic in his decision to do so without the benefit of any seat belt. Courageously he withstood his big sister's argument regarding the new legislation on belting up and living.

With that knowledge Poppa headed off on one of his walks. The young man who had marched off to war was someone else, a stranger from another time.