FOREWORD by Gazette editor GARRY HOWE
THREE soldiers sit centre stage in a Kooweerup Hall emblazoned with flags, streamers and a huge Welcome Home banner.
It’s 1918 and that scene is played out regularly across the district.
A few years earlier, the same men were farewelled in similar fashion in halls or on railway platforms.
Back then, they were widely praised for their bravery and patriotism. In farewell speeches, sportsmen were lauded for giving up their pursuits for the sake of “the greater game”. Some revelled in the prospect of an overseas adventure. Others were not so keen, as evidenced by the Exemption Court lists that ran in newspapers of the day.
When they returned, the railway stations were again crowded and the halls decorated to welcome home men who had seen and done things most didn’t talk about much afterwards. It seems poignant that none of the men on that Kooweerup stage are smiling.
Some who returned went on to make their mark on society – others struggled.
Les Cochrane, the man sitting on the left, became four times Cranbourne Shire President and represented Gippsland West in State Parliament for 20 years from 1951. The park where the Kooweerup war memorial now stands is named in his honour.
He was one who rarely talked about the war, according to his grandson Barry. Many years later a blister formed on his hand that, when burst, revealed a lingering piece of shrapnel.
Clair Whiteside, the reverend’s son from Officer who survived the horrors of Fromelles, would serve on Berwick Shire Council for years and a term as shire president in 1946. He never forgot that day on Fromelles – 19 July, 1916 – and the date proved a constant in his life.
A young Ray Jeffers enlisted from Cora Lynn and acquitted himself well in battle, being twice decorated for bravery. When the world became more civil, he shone as a civilian too, serving 17 years on Dandenong council and serving as both shire president and mayor.
Sadly, many didn’t get their time to shine – cut down in their prime fighting, mostly in vain, for a piece of foreign land.
The Lecky brothers from Officer didn’t make it. Popular boys from a pioneering family, James and Mervyn were both killed in the final throes of the war. James died from wounds three days after peace was declared. Their parents were so distraught they left the district.
Their names – and hundreds of others – are now inscribed on cenotaphs across the district.
We’ve all seen them, the great stone monoliths rising from the ground. We glance at them twice a year at best, as part of the Anzac Day or Remembrance Day rituals.
This special edition of the Gazette doesn’t set out to celebrate war, but to acknowledge the sacrifice made by those men on marble – and they are mostly men, given the times – particularly those who didn’t return.
On pages 64 to 66 we have profiled each of those honoured on the Upper Beaconsfield cenotaph and throughout the year will turn our attention to other cenotaphs with a view to tracking down the stories of those fallen soldiers as well.
We have attempted to add a character, and sometimes a face, to those names inscribed in stone.
So when fronting up for an Anzac Day service, our readers may now have a better idea of who those people were, what they did and how they died.
Their remains may lie in a foreign field, but by having them in our thoughts this week, in a sense we can also welcome them home.
