Henry Alfred Symington 1886-1950

Known as Harry, Henry Alfred Symington was born on 18 May 1886 at Warren in outback New South Wales. He was the sixth of the ten children of William Symington and Anna Rigg. His father had a butcher's shop at the bottom of Dubbo Street. The family home was a tiny dwelling which stood behind the shop, with a frontage to Cobb Street. Details of his schooling are yet to emerge but presumably he received a primary school education in Warren. Postcards sent to his family reveal that he achieved a very basic standard of literacy.

As young men, he and his brother Peter led an itinerant life.  Work as shearers led them to outback New South Wales and to the South Island of New Zealand. Their travels are documented in the post cards which they sent to their sister Maggie who was living at Berringa Park, Huon Lane. Harry formed an attachment to Berringa Park, which he had assumed he would inherit from his uncle James. In 1909 he was living at Berringa Park, working as a farm hand with his uncle and aunt, James and Mary Symington. In 1913 he was living at Cobar where he was working in the slaughter yards  with his brothers Charlie and Peter (see photograph below). [1] When he enlisted in the AIF in 1916, he gave his address as Berringa Park, and his occupation as "grazier."  

In August 1915, Harry attended a fancy dress ball at Kiewa in suppport of the Patriotic Fund. The event was reported in the Upper Murray & Mitta Herald Thursday 5 August 1915 page 3: 

"At Kiewa on Friday evening—Australia Day—a very successful plain and fancy dress ball was held in aid of wounded Australian soldiers. About 350 persons were present. Dancing was kept up until nearly daylight, the music being supplied by Mr. T. Young's orchestra. There were a good many patriotic and comic costumes and fancy sets." The Prize for the best fancy set was awarded to “The Allies,” who handed back the amount for the Patriotic Fund. The "Allies", from Huon Lane, comprised Mr. Bert Jamison and Miss Myrtle Thomas as English, Mr. Allan Mclntyre and Miss Rose Thomas as Belgians, Mr. Joe Jamison and Miss C. L. McIntyre as French and Mr. Harry Symington and Miss Vera Hodson as Russians.

Harry made his application to enlist in the A.I.F. from Wodonga on 4 May 1916. His unit, the 3rd Pioneer Battalion, 4th Reinforcements, departed Melbourne on 21 October 1916. The Pioneers disembarked at Devonport on 28 December and proceeded direct to the training facility at Larkhill, on the Salisbury plain.  The Battalion arrived in France on 3 May 1917. He was wounded in action in the trenches at Messines on 22 June 1917 and underwent urgent surgery in the field for a serious head injury which would prove to be life-changing.  As a consequence of his injuries, he suffered from right sided weakness and a mild form of epilepsy but the lasting impact of the injury was on his mental state and cognition. He was discharged from the armed services classified as "permanently incapacitated" and he never worked again.

Harry married Irene Lilian "Queenie" Tait from Katamatite at Princes Hill on 27th May 1918. He was aged 33 years and Irene was 19. They lived at 4 Bath Street, St. Kilda. (AER) Their first child was Robert "Bob", born on 12th January 1919 at 126 Westbury Street, Balaclava.

Some time after Harry returned from service in Belgium, his brother Peter advised that their uncle James Symington of Berringa Park had made a new will in favour of his cousin Charlie Darton, a slick operator, able and intelligent, who had been the postmaster at Wodonga. With James terminally ill in hospital in Melbourne, Charlie had taken up residence at Berringa Park and was acting as overseer of the property.  James died on 6 May 1920, leaving the bulk of his property to Charlie and his sister Aggie Darton. Harry was mortified to learn that he had not inherited Berringa Park. However, his impaired condition would have rendered him incapable of managing the property. Harry was awarded the sum of £2000 and from this inheritance purchased a house at 126 Tooronga Road, East Malvern, where he and Irene raised four children from 1923 to 1927. His occupation was recorded in the AER for 1924 as "nil".

Harry and Irene had four children: Robert Henry "Bob", born 12 January 1919, William James "Jim" 18 June 1920, Noel 26 December 1924 and  Betty Anne 20 July 1929.

Attempting to improve his health, and perhaps to gain some form of employment he moved in 1928 from East Malvern to Devon Street in Cheltenham, a semi-rural area with market gardens and open paddocks, within easy reach of the sea. His sons, Bob and Jim and Noel attended the Charman Elementary School in Cheltenham and the school enrolment books record his occupation as "fisherman".  By 1933 the family had moved back to Tooronga Road to facilitate the ongoing education of their children. Bob was to commence his secondary schooling at Melbourne High School. [2]

Thereafter, he lived a retiring life and did not return to farming or to any other useful occupation.

Entries in his Repatriation Hospital medical file reveal a man with poor memory and slow cerebration. He presented as "nervy" and "shaky", slow in his speech and at times he sometimes appeared to be "confused." He had lasting depression and a residual right-sided hemiparesis.

In 1938, at the age of fifty, he was still very unwell. His wife had contacted the Department with concern about his mental state. He was extremely irritable. She complained that he would fly into "uncontrollable tempers" and claimed she was concerned for the safety of her children. However, this is at variance with the recollections of their daughter Betty who remembered him as a quiet and gentle man.  The medical officer who examined him on 10 March 1938 wrote "Speech a little hesitant at times. He is the semi-cheerful, loquacious and apparently simple type one so often finds among those wounded in the head." From my own childhood observations, I can confirm that he was indeed easily irritated and rather lacking in patience.

He continued to pursue the simple pleasures of life. He liked to fish from the St. Kilda Pier for “silver bream and schnapper (sic).” A common catch was gummy shark, now considered a delicacy, but in those days swiftly returned to the deep. He also enjoyed horse racing and would have been a regular visitor to the Caulfield Race Course which was nearby. In March, 1939 he reported that he was looking forward to a holiday at Berringa Park, which is odd, considering that his cousin Doug had sold the property some years beforehand.

Thereafter the pension was increased to £8 per fortnight. Until March 1921, he had been surviving on a pension of two guineas per fortnight but the inheritance of £2000 from his uncle James Symington of Berringa Park which enabled him to purchase the Tooronga Road property would have been of considerable assistance.

Harry died on 5 October 1950 from cancer of the pancreas in the Repatriation Hospital, Heidelberg, [3] and was cremated at the Springvale Crematorium.

[1] AER 1913

[2] Sands and McDougall Victoria Directories

[3] Repatriation Hospital File Number 25301

MILITARY SERVICE

Harry volunteered for active service at the age of thirty years and enlisted in the A.I.F. on May 25, 1916 at Melbourne with the rank of Private, regimental number 2658. [1] He was then living at Berringa Park, Huon, and his stated occupation was Grazier. In his application to enlist dated 4 May, 1916 he nominated his postal address as the Huon Post Office.

In his Attestation Paper, the following personal details were recorded: height 5 feet 7 ¾ inches, weight 142 pounds, chest measurement 33/38 inches, complexion fresh, eyes brown, hair black, religious denomination Presbyterian.

Next of kin was his mother Annie, although written as Margaret A. Symington. Her address 16 New Street, Annandale, New South Wales, is crossed out and altered to c/o Mrs. McLeod (Harry's sister Margaret), Beck Street, Katamatite, Victoria.

He was appointed to the 4th Reinforcements, 3rd Pioneer Battalion.

The following events are summarised from his service file: [2]

21.10.1916 Embarked from Melbourne on board HMAT A16 Port Melbourne.

28.12.1916 Disembarked at Plymouth.

29.12.1916 Marched in to the Pioneer Training Battalion at Larkhill.

5.3.1917 Admitted with mumps to Parkhill Hospital, where he was treated for sixteen days.

23.3.1917 Marched in to the Pioneer Training Battalion at Fovant.

3.5.1917 Proceeded to France from Larkhill via Folkestone.

1.5.1917 Marched in to the 3rd A.D.B. Depot at Etaples.

21.5.1917 Marched out to the 3rd Pioneer Battalion in the Field of Battle.

22.6.1917 Wounded in action. Admitted to the 3rd New Zealand Field Ambulance with a severe shell wound to the head and skull fracture. Transferred to 2nd Australian Casualty Clearing Station.

13.7.1917 Transferred by ambulance train and admitted to 20th Australian General Hospital Wimereux.

20.9.1917 Embarked for England per the St. Andrew and admitted that day to the King George Hospital, Stamford Street, London.

23.10.1917 Transferred to 3rd Australian Auxiliary Hospital at Dartford.

27.10.1917 Discharged to Depot, Weymouth.

20.12.1917 Embarked for home in the Runic.

27.2.1918 Admitted to Australian General Hospital from the Runic.

[1] AIF Database (see w.w.w.aif.adfa.edu.au)

[2] Reg. No. 2658

WAR INJURIES

Harry was wounded in action on in the trenches at Messines on 22 June 1917, when he received a severe shell wound to the head. Harry later maintained that he was rescued from a pile of bodies when he was seen to move. He had been rendered unconscious and underwent surgery in the field for a depressed fracture of the left parietal bone and subdural haematoma. At operation, the dura was not pulsating; the dura was opened and clot was evacuated. He remained unconscious for a fortnight. On regaining consciousness there was obvious weakness of his right foot. He was fortunate to survive but would suffer permanent right sided weakness and had ongoing headaches and dizziness. Thereafter, he always walked with a stick.

On 13 July he was transported by ambulance train to the Australian Voluntary Hospital at Wimereux. On 20 September he returned to England, where he was admitted to the King George Military Hospital in London. He sailed for Australia on 20 December 1917. He was discharged from service on 22 May 1918.

The following details of his medical history come from his medical record at the Repatriation General Hospital, Heidelberg. 

A skull x-ray taken on 4 March 1918 revealed a large trephine opening in the parietal region with a fracture extending from the opening. 

In November 1918 he was undertaking commercial training at the Working Men’s College but was troubled by headaches, dizziness and a feeling of depression. The examining Medical Officer observed his “mental condition appears somewhat sluggish” and confirmed him to be totally incapacitated.

On 26 April 1919 there was an attempt to close the breach in the skull by a rib graft which was unsuccessful and he remained unwell.

In August 1920 his speech was slow and indistinct and he had a hemiparetic gait. He suffered from probable post-traumatic epilepsy. Late in 1920 he was suffering daily seizures in which he would shiver and the right leg and arm would twitch. His account of these seizures was so vague as to suggest that there was some loss of awareness, in keeping with what is now termed complex partial epilepsy. He continued to suffer from headaches and underwent a further operation on 11 January 1920 in which a cyst with fluid under pressure was found when the dura was incised. The cyst was drained and the rib graft was removed.

Apart from these physical sequelae of head injury, the neuropsychiatric consequences were devastating. He suffered from enduring depression and "war neurosis." He was incapacitated by the impact on his cognition rendered him unemployable. He was intolerant of noise and suffered from tinnitus. He was badly affected by electrical storms which would bring on a state of "shell shock", in which he would pale and cower at the sound of thunder, which would have brought to mind the incessant bombardment to which he had been exposed at Messines.

A fellow soldier from the trenches wrote a letter to Harry's wife, explaining how he was injured. He was in a trench and was wearing his helmet when he was felled. The author of the letter is unknown because Harry's youngest son Noel, who suffered himself with post-traumatic stress disorder from his WW2 experiences, destroyed the letter. His frustrating explanation: "there are things people don't need to know" and "some things are best forgotten!"

THE 3RD PIONEER BATTALION

The 3rd Pioneer Battalion of the Australian Imperial Force was raised in Victoria, in March 1916, from volunteers drawn from Victoria, Queensland, South Australia, and Western Australia and was assigned to the Third Division. The unit colour patch comprised a  purple horizontal oval coloured purple with a white surround. The 4th Reinforcement was selected from men who were encamped at the Domain, from where they were transferred to camp at Seymour.

The Pioneer Units supported the front-line troops and the engineers in a range of activities such as providing labour for trench digging, undertaking battlefield clearance and construction of structures such as shelters and Regimental Aid Posts. The Pioneers were in effect light infantry with engineering skills be pressed in to fight with regular infantry when required. They constructed defensive positions, command posts and dugouts, prepared barbed wire defences.

Leading up to the Battle of Messines which took place in June 1917, the 3rd Pioneers were engaged in the construction of machine gun and trench mortar emplacements. (See Keatinge, Major M.B., War Book of the Third Pioneer Battalion, The Specialty Press, Melbourne 1919)

THE BATTLE OF MESSINES RIDGE JUNE 1917

The renowned war correspondent C.E.W. Bean described the battle of Messines as the first great battle involving the Australians and New Zealanders since Gallipoli. Bean's account was reported in the Sydney Morning Herald of Monday 11 June 1917 page 7: 

8 June 1917

"This morning the Australians, fighting by the side of New Zealanders in their first great common battle since Gallipoli, swung round to make the flank of the great attack on Messines, and penetrated into the strong German position behind Messines Ridge.

For many days there had been tremendous practice bombardment, which reduced the houses in Wytschaete to ruins, and Messines Hill to powder. Raiding parties often went across behind these bombardments, nearly always finding German trenches well held at some point and bringing back many prisoners. This morning, when the first streak of dawn just showed, the British on the left and the Australians and New Zealanders on the right attacked under a hurricane bombardment, and with the explosion on the right and left of seven great mines. Throughout the night the enemy had drenched the whole landscape-woods, hill slopes, and trenches-in front of him with gas shells. Despite this the whole attack went more precisely and mathematically to the programme than any ever made by the Germans or British so far as I know.  

The Australian division on the right, coming through gas drenched woods without the slightest hitch, crossed the river Douve in no-man’s land, and advanced from one shattered trench to another, and from ruined farm-house to farm-house, all the time within fifty to a hundred yards of the gradually advancing line of its own shell-fire. For two hours it was impossible to see anything through the dense clouds of dust, shell, and smoke. Then the figures of the New Zealanders were seen moving on the ridgetop by the ruins of Messines. More men appeared south of it. As the haze gradually cleared the British could be seen on the summit of the ridge away to the north, while the Australians were moving by the woods and farms in Douve Valley to the south.

Within a few hours the whole morning’s attack had succeeded, and men were moving into position for a further advance. The Germans, at the same time, were massing for a counter-attack. The British preparatory bombardment appeared to catch this counter-attack and crush it. The Australians then attacked beyond Messines along the whole right, and completed the capture of the ridge. This attack at points where we could see it reached the German trenches, the men fighting at one point side by side with three tanks. But the roar of the bombardment there was still terribly heavy. One portion of the trench, which had been taken and retaken by the Germans, was taken again by the Australians. I did not know at the moment the exact result Australians (Victorians and Tasmanians) there captured some machine guns, two of which were immediately used against the Germans, and two German, field guns, besides about a hundred prisoners. In the afternoon attack further Germans were captured, and could be seen coming back in droves, but the exact number taken by the Australians it is yet impossible to ascertain.

The London newspapers describe the capture of Messines by the New Zealanders as one of the shining feats by oversea troops in the war. The Australians shared in their glories."

A more detailed account of the allies' attack from Bean, written "exactly as it happened" and dated 9 June was published in The Mercury on 18 August 1917 (page 5):

"There was never such a spectacle in warfare as the attack on Mesines (sic) Ridge. One watched it as it were from an arm-chair looking across on to the stage. Here is the exact picture as we saw it hour by hour.

It was dark when I went to call for the New Zealand war correspondent. Everywhere along the road one passed small columns of fully-loaded men moving silently through the night-New Zealanders, Australians, British. At the New Zealand Headquarters there were lights in the mess-room, and a pot of tea was always ready on the brightly lit table inside. As we motored towards the front everything was in the most perfect order. I never saw a hint or suspicion of a hitch. Suddenly on the dark flats we ran into a gas stream-out of it-into a second gas stream. So the German was shelling these regions with gas and tear shell.  

Where we left the car the gas had thinned; but as we walked there began to fall around, almost as softly as the raindrops that precede a thunderstorm, showers of small shell from distant field guns. They seemed to be sprinkled all over the country, as if through a garden sprayer. The soft whistle and pat pat of the little bursts was continuous on every side. The country was thick with a musty smell as of chloroform sandwiched between strong whiffs of lavender-smelling tear shell, and occasionally the pungent mustard of some other poison. Long after we reached our trench this hosing of the country with shell steadily continued.

The particular corner to which we made our may was for that night occupied by an Auckland battalion. Before us, straight across the valley, about two thousand yards away, was Messines. We could see the dull shellbursts in the dust of the ridge, and occasionally a flare went up from the face of it. Sometimes flares dropped far away behind it; they must have been where the British line curled round it in the Ypres salient far to the left.

MOMENTS OF INTENSE ANXIETY.

Those were moments of intense anxiety to the onlookers. Would the Germans see our movement, and guess that the attack was immediately imminent? At ten minutes past two, at points of the front, a flare of quite a different sort shot into the air, very straight and high, and the brilliant light sailed slowly down -it took a good minute and a half to come to earth. Our big guns seemed to quicken at the same time, but nothing came from the Germans, except the same pat, pat, pat of the gas shells and the occasional lily-like white light illuminating No-Man’s-Land.  

A partially gassed man passed up the trench. “The---,” he said, “burst one in the bay.” Then, when all seemed to be progressing unbelievably well, with only eighteen minutes to go, two green and two yellow flares shot suddenly into the sky. As they settled, one noticed that they fell behind the ridge. They must be from the extreme left of the British line away in front of Ypres.

Immediately, flare after flare curved over the horizon in that far corner-yellow, green, then red, and whole sheafs of white. Something must have been seen there. Every German field-gun throwing gas shell stopped suddenly. Presently low flashes over the skyline in that direction showed that a German barrage had come down there already. Could it be the Germans had discovered the left of our attack, or was it some feint of ours away beyond the left-perhaps a raid from the salient?      

Anyway, everything as perfectly peaceful on our front. Five minutes after they had ceased, the gas shells began to slip down again quite normally. Never was shellfire so welcome.  

THE FIRST ALARM.

Twelve minutes to go. A big New Zealander has come along the trench.

“Come, you blokes,” he said. “Tucker - any of you not had your breakfast?” Big dixies of tea had been carried along the trench some time before, and the men had been munching and yarning in the dark. The pat pat pat of gas shell continued.

Nine minutes to go. Still undiscovered. A bright, round moon. The first warm streaks of dawn are just showing above Messines. The German has burst a few big gas shells down towards the front line. “Where's these blanky bombs?” says a voice. The men in this trench are not for the first wave, but they are getting their things together. An officer walks along the parapet. “Got those picks?” he asks.  

Five minutes. Those German barrage flares are still going up in sheafs on the far left. Lots of gas shell.  

Four minutes. A single great, bright, double, green flare has suddenly shot up from the foot of Messines Ridge straight ahead of us. There is no question where that was-directly in front of the Australians, and New Zealanders. A machine-gun starts-then a second joins in - then a third. A second green flare goes up. The three machine-guns are hard at it. A big shell bursts near by. Fair in the middle of the dark slope opposite a single rifle flashes like an electric spark. There is no question they have seen something.

AT LAST!

Two minutes to go. The machine-guns have petered out into silence. The hill-slope is as peaceful as it ever was. Three of our big guns have fired-others follow within a second or two, somewhat as a man quickens his first steps when he starts to run. Then the whole trench wall rocked inwards and swayed, and then rocked and thumped again. Far away to the left a huge, dull, red bubble, covered with a grey smog, suddenly grows, and then bursts, throwing a rosy red underflow on some thick cloud hanging above it. Then another bursts beside it, and another. The ground rocks and sways and rocks long before there arrives the tremendous delayed detonation. Brilliant sheafs of some molten substance beside the mines-then more mine-bursts within a second or two further to the left behind the ridge; simultaneously three similar heavy, red bursts away on the right. My God, what a stage management! It happened in less time than it takes to tell.

It was followed by an immediate simultaneous roar of machine-gun fire. Not a chatter, but a single rip into uproar. And then the bombardment came down and crowned it.  

For just two hours from that moment one might as well have sat down in the trench with one’s back to the fight. There was nothing distinguishable to see or hear. The whole valley was full of noise and dense with deep grey smoke. The barrage which one expected did not come on that trench. A stray rifle bullet or two flew over. Occasional shells fell near. One could hear machine-guns chattering through the fog, but they gradually ceased. The few white and red flares which overtopped the dust grew rarer and rarer, until they were clearly only rising beyond the ridge. The men in the trench put on their kit. The order came to fix bayonets. An officer moved along the parapet. They scrambled out, formed, up, and were quickly lost in the smoke. We turned to our breakfast.

What we saw when the fog gradually cleared must be the matter for another article."   

PERSONAL ACCOUNTS OF THE BATTLE OF MESSINES

The following extract is from a letter to his parents from the front by Driver P.T. Byrnes, an original member of the 3rd Pioneer Battalion, dated 14 June 1917, and published in the Swan Hill Guardian and Lake Boga Advocate on Thursday 16 August 1917 (page 2):

"Our division has just come out of a big stunt with heavy casualties--the bulk of them fight however-and we are having a so-called rest just behind the lines. Fritz’s long range guns are dropping shells at odd places around us at long intervals. It is a great rest! We have been here four days, and two companies are going back into the line to-morrow. Our battalion has seen seven months continuous fighting without a spell outside the battle zone and we have finished the seven months by taking part in the biggest stunt that has taken place in this part of the line. There are practically half of my section (transport section) gone, and the rest consider ourselves old soldiers. We had good conduct stripes issued today. I have had some excitement lately. We were shelled out of our horse lines several times, three times in 24 hours one time, and spent a night on the roads leading donkeys and horses. Every time Fritz altered his range and put one near us we shifted on. Great fun, I don't think! And then the carting up to the lines. I think I am very lucky to be alive. One night I was up with rations. It was twilight, and I travelled along three miles of road parallel to the line and was shelled at intervals right along the road-big stuff, too. I was at the gallop pretty well all the time, galloping past shelled “pockets” and burning ammunition dumps, and expecting every few minutes to be sent up in a form of vapor. There are two spots on this road, one called “Suicide Corner” and the other “Perhaps Corner”-perhaps you get past, perhaps you don’t. As fast as they repair the road at these points Fritz tears it up with 5.9 and 8 inch shells, and occasionally leaves shell holes you could bury a four horse team in. -The mules are very steady under shellfire. I am just about ripe for a rest, but my nerves and health are as good as gold. But after seven months continuously between our own guns and Fritz’s shells a chap wishes he could get out of it for a while. Our artillery is marvellous. They use 12 inch, 8 inch and 6 inch howitzers as if they were field guns, and 18 pounders are as common as rifles. If you are out in front of them when they open up the smoke and noise and dirt of them nearly drive you mad. I was out on the roads the night the big mines went up. They did make a scatter. That was a week ago, and they reckon some of the Huns have not come down yet. I saw the flare and flame of them, but I was in the middle of a mob of walers and could not hear them for the confounded racket they were making. Fritz is killing a lot of civilians here-absolute murder. He even kills cows, but what the cows ever did to the Kaiser I’m hanged if I know. Well, good-bye for the present, with best love to everybody."

Lieutenant Alan G. May, a British machine gun officer, recalled in graphic detail the moment of the detonation of the mines under the German Lines at Messines Ridge: 

"When I heard the first deep rumble I turned to the men and shouted 'Come on, let's go.' A fraction of a second later, a terrific roar and the whole earth seemed to rock and sway. The concussion was terrible, several of the men and myself being blown down violently. It seemed to be several minutes before the earth stood still again though it may not really been more than a few seconds. As I looked at the uproar it appeared that the whole earth was shorn apart as far as one could see. Flames rose to a great height, according to the papers some 1,400 feet though they did not last long. Silhouetted against the flame I saw huge blocks of earth that seemed to be as big as houses falling back to the ground. Small chunks and dirt fell all around. I saw a man flung out from behind a huge block of debris, silhouetted against the sheet of flame. Presumably some poor devil of a Boche. It was awful, a sort of inferno."

(Quoted by Richard van Emden in The Road to Passchendaele: The Heroic Year in Soldiers' Own Words and Photographs Casemate Publishers, 2017)

William Symington, AIF Service Number 1697, a private in the 35th Battalion, was killed in action at the Battle of Messines on 7 June 1917. An Ironmongery salesman from the Newcastle district, he was not a close relation, and was not a descendant of the steamboat pioneer.

Text of Harry's PC to Charlie dated 18 June 1916:

18.6.16

Domain Camp

Dear Charlie

                  How do you

like this don't you think

I look a bit nervous it is

lovely to be up in a baloon (sic)

I am quite used to this life

now had visitors today half

dozen including Uncle Peter

& Aunt Beck we had a

march through the city

friday all went into

the city baths & we had a

route march round the

botanical gardens I enjoyed

them very much was on

leaf (sic) yesterday from 2 P.M.

11 P.M. So hoping you are

quite well all best wishes

from you (sic) brother Harry

don’t forget to write soon

Text from Harry's postcard to his brother Charlie, dated 28 June 1916:

Domain Camp

28.6.16

Dear Charlie

Hope you are all quite well this

is a snapshot of myself

& tent mates taken just

after knocking off drill

I am the second on the

left, it is very cold

down hear (sic) just now

how is butchering going

I am getting quite used

to this life now & it

agrees with me so far

of course no bullets yet

So all best wishes

from your brother Harry

remember me to all friends

& don’t forget to write soon

Text of Harry's Postcard to his brother from King George's Hospital, London:

King Georges Hosp

London

16.10.17

To Mr C Symington

Wilgaroon Stn

Via Cobar

NSW Australia

Dear Charles

                       I am

not quite so bad as

this makes me out

to be got a letter from you

last night dated

10 of April so some take

a long time all best

wishes to all from

your brother Harry

Sent a letter other day

CHILDREN OF HENRY ALFRED SYMINGTON AND IRENE LILIAN TAIT

ROBERT HENRY SYMINGTON  born at St. Kilda 12 January 1919; died from coronary heart disease 26 July1990 in Porter Street, Templestowe, at the intersection with Church Road, driving home after consulting at Preston.

Married GWENYTH LILY MASSEY 12 June 1943; she died 17 October 1995. Educated at Malvern Central School, Methodist Ladies College, Zercho's Business College. 1946 Address 29a Beaver Street, East Malvern, typist (AER)

WILLIAM JAMES SYMINGTON born at St. Kilda 18 June 1920; died at St. Ives, N.S.W., 13 March 1989 with Alzheimer's disease. 

Married Norma Lesley Page in 1950; she died 26 January 2025 aged 96

NOEL SYMINGTON born at Malvern 26 December 1924; died at Port Macquarie 25 July 2018

Married Evelyn Beryl Gray. She died on 26 September 2015

BETTY ANNE SYMINGTON born 20 July 1929; died 12 May 2019

Married Lieutenant Keith Stanley Voigt, Royal Australian Engineers, 19 June 1954. Keith was born on14 November 1923; died 22 April 2018

ROBERT HENRY SYMINGTON 1919-1990

In preparation ...

My father; known as "Bob".

Dux of Cheltenham State Primary School.

REGISTER OF THE CHELTENHAM ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

Page 71

No. 2127 Symington, Robert b. 12/1/1919

Date of admission 7.4.1927

Date of last attendance 18/12/1931

Residence Devon Street

Parents Irene Domestic Duties; Henry Fisherman

School last attended 2586 Tooronga Road

Date of last attendance 5/4/27

Secondary education at Melbourne Boys' High School. Member of the first XVIII.

M.B.B.S. University of Melbourne. An "apostle" in the anatomy class (top twelve)

R.M.O. Royal Women's hospital

General Practitioner and public vaccinator  at 293 High Street, Preston, for forty years

WILLIAM JAMES SYMINGTON 1920-1989

Known as "Jim"

Educated at Cheltenham State School and Melbourne High School.

REGISTER OF THE CHELTENHAM ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

No. 2128 Symington, William James, b. 18/6/1920 

1950 Diploma in Commerce, University of Melbourne

A cheerful and engaging man with a fine sense of humour.

NOEL SYMINGTON 1924-2018

REGISTER OF THE CHELTENHAM ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

No. 2611 Noel Symington b. 26.12.24

Admitted 28/1/1930

Last attended 19/10/1931

Secondary education to Intermediate Certificate level.

AIF SERVICE WWII

ROBERT HENRY SYMINGTON

Army Number VX108032; enlisted 1 September 1942

Captain, AAMC, 20th Pioneer Battalion, stationed at Merauke.

WILLIAM JAMES SYMINGTON

Pilot Officer, RAAF. 

Service number 5982; enlisted 15 January 1940

Prior to enlistment he was a member of the CMF and was employed as a clerk with the Metropolitan Gas Company, Melbourne. 

NOEL SYMINGTON

Corporal, RAAF. Number 125725

Service number 125725; enlisted in 1942 as a wireless assistant; became a radar mechanic. When he enlisted, he was a clerk with the Vacuum Oil Company.

THE SYMINGTON RESIDENCE IN TOORONGA ROAD

These are my childhood memories of the house at 126 Tooronga Road, Malvern, from the early 1950's:

The house built of brick, in the Edwardian style, the veranda paved with tessellated tiles.  The property was entered by a gate through a privet hedge. The front lawn was of thick buffalo grass.

On a sunny day, the rather gloomy hallway was splashed with red light from the ruby glass beside the front door. Entering the front door, the main bedroom was on the right. There was a large photograph of baby Noel, reclining in his nakedness. To the left was another bed room where I stayed. This room gave me the creeps, remembering my grandfather had been in that very bed before he died. The quiet of the evening was disturbed by the trams rattling along in Wattle tree Road. This room was unadorned apart from a small wall hanging which said "God Bless This House."

Further down the hallway on the right there were two more bedrooms, followed by the bathroom with a much-worn enamel bath.

On the left down the hall was the lounge room which was furnished with brown leather lounge chairs and a squeaky rocking chair.  Looking to the right from the doorway was a sideboard on which were photographs of the three boys, all in military uniform, Bob with cigarette in hand. There was a cigarette lighter made from an army shell and a Dunlop tyre ashtray. On the wall beside the window were two exotic mountain views which were probably from New Zealand and a coloured photograph of Betty in a pink cardigan, standing by a stream.

Next down the hall on the left was the dining room. In the hallway outside the dining room was a wall-mounted telephone where telephone numbers were pencilled onto the plasterwork. The dining room was furnished with a pine table and a brushed pine dresser containing bottle green glassware. A treadle-operated Singer sewing machine sat under the window and on that wall was a large colourised photograph of Bob and Jim in an oval frame.

The kitchen was entered through the dining room. This was a small lean-to room, with a wood-fired stove against the dining-room wall and a sink under the window which looked over the back yard. I was impressed by the spiked mallet which grandma used to tenderise meat. On the mantle was a tin of Old Dutch cleaner picturing a Dutchwoman in traditional garb.  Betty left her Dexedrine inhaler lying about and a surreptitious sniff left me light-headed but the experience was strangely exhilarating.

The back yard was bounded by laneways to the rear and to the left. On a summer’s night the cicadas from beyond the back lane were shrill. There was no formal garden. A clump of Easter daisies stood just beyond the kitchen. The yard was crossed by a clothes line, a rope supported by a stick. Looking from the back door, to the right and behind a spreading fig tree was the wood shed which housed the laundry with a copper, sink and mangle and perhaps the toilet was there also.

A newsagency was on the corner of Wattletree Road. Wilson's Removalists were on the opposite side of Tooronga Road and, opposite the newsagency, in Wattletree Road was a bakery which made very good meat pies.