Letters from the front
Mon 23 April 2007
John Hammond, Journalism
Three Sunshine Coast sisters Sybil Brown, Dorothy Cropper and Alma McMaught have special pride in remembering their father every Anzac Day.
Henry Rupert Salmon, affectionately known as Harry, was a trooper in the 12th Light Horse Regiment.
Born on March 23, 1887, Harry enlisted in July 1915 at the age of 28 and embarked for duty on October 5 that year.
“He was mature enough to know what he was doing and why,” Sybil said.
On discharge Harry never talked about the war, marched on Anzac Day or wore his medals. His job was done and best forgotten.
Harry, a devoted son, loved his mother dearly and wrote often. Daughter Sybil recently shared his letters, bringing a human insight to the Great War.
Written in neat copperplate, his numerous letters communicated Harry’s growing disenchantment with war, from an initial “boys own” adventure to later realising its ultimate futility.
Harry’s first letter on October 2, 1915 reassured his mother “…whatever you do don’t worry about me I will be alright and sure to return safely...your everloving son. Harry.”
Snowy-haired and jockey-sized, Harry was a fine horseman and the crack shot of his regiment. He proudly boasted to his mother on his 29th birthday about out-shooting 250 others over 800 yards to win the colonel’s 100 piasetres ($A2) prize.
Throughout 1916 the 12th Light Horse patrolled the Suez Canal with forays into the Sinai Desert.
Word came through in November they would join the main Allied push against the German-Turkish lines, driving north through Palestine and Lebanon.
Harry wrote on November 16, 1916, “…leaving for the front …hope to do my job well…your ever faithful son Harry.”
Allied forces heavily engaged the enemy during 1917. The campaign stalled with two major offensives against Turkish forces repelled.
October 31, 1917 was the date for an iconic action in the annals of Anzac legend.
With daylight and hope fading, the urgently needed water in enemy-held Beersheba’s wells was a major priority. Allied command hastily conceived a do-or-die plan.
At 4.30pm the 4th and 12th Australian Light Horse Regiments rushed Turkish machineguns, bayonets drawn in a cavalry-like charge against overwhelming odds.
Reconnaissance scout Trooper Eric Elliot recalled the scene when he noticed a cloud of dust behind him. Next a rumbling charge of Light Horsemen appeared over a crest sweeping past.
“It was the bravest, most awe inspiring sight I’ve ever witnessed, and they were…yelling, swearing and shouting. There were more than 500 Aussie horsemen…As they thundered past my hair stood on end. The boys were wild-eyed and yelling their heads off,” Elliot later said.
The audacious attack so surprised the Turks they were caught off guard. Beersheba fell by nightfall, the line breached and the vital wells saved.
Although Beersheba was claimed the battle was not over, with the Turks and Germans formidable foes.
Letters Harry sent from Jericho and the Jordan Valley illustrated dangers faced. One raid penetrated 15 miles through enemy lines, cutting off 8000 Turkish soldiers who counter-attacked, nearly turning the tables. The 12th Light Horse fought for five days without rest before managing a withdrawal.
Another night battle against German forces saw 680 prisoners taken. Harry’s letter said “…next morning there were dead Huns everywhere…buried just on 200 of them in old trenches and shell holes…love from Harry.”
Ceasefire came late in 1918. The Light Horse repeatedly showed their mettle but technology was making them obsolete, yet not before they turned the
tide of war at Beersheba.
Field Marshall Lord Allenby praised the Australians as equal with the best, earning the Empire’s gratitude and the world’s admiration.
After the war Harry returned to his butcher shop. He married Lena Mary Deal on June 24, 1922, fathering five children: Roy, Alma, Sybil, Keith and Dorothy, now in their 70s and 80s. “We are proud of our father and his contribution,” Sybil said.
Lest we forget.
Image(s) designed by John Hammond, Sybil Brown archive