Dad in the War
Charles J. Johnson in Uniform
“The uniforms came in three sizes- too big, too small and nowhere bloody near it.” he always said.
by Judith Johnson
Dad (Charles J. Johnson) was the greatest Aussie patriot you could ever meet. As soon as war was declared in 1914 he wanted to enlist but of course he was only 15 years old at the time. Eventually, he lied about his age, saying he was 19 years, (Hard to believe if you look at the baby face in the photograph).
His Mum signed his papers on the 23 of September and he was in. His army number is very low, 621, so he was amongst the earliest to enlist. You may wonder why his Mum signed his papers but I think she knew he would go anyhow, even if it was under a false name. If he did that, she would not be able to get news of him and he wouldn’t be able to allot some of his pay to her. His age on his Army papers will always be incorrect.
On his enlistment papers he was listed as a shop assistant. At this time his mother’s address was 115 George St Fitzroy, (I taught at the George St. School in the 60s) changing soon to 34 Albert St, East Melbourne.
He trained at Broadmeadows Army Camp and he was appointed to the 1st Field Ambulance. His unit was shipped overseas and landed at Gallipoli on 25th of April 1915, by which time he was 16 years of age.
Months later, on June 26, he was wounded by a shell which exploded behind him while he and another soldier were carrying a wounded Turkish soldier down Shrapnel Gully on a stretcher. Flesh and muscle was stripped off the back of both legs and when I saw the back of his legs when I was a child, they were just a flat mass of scars. The story goes that his mates got him down to the Hospital tent on the beach pretty quickly, thus saving his life. The story, confirmed by Mr Bain (one of the men with rifles) who lived in Villeroy St. near us, was that the surgeons wanted to amputate his legs but a couple of his mates stood by with rifles and refused to let them. This tells me that even though was not actually in the trenches with them, he talked to everyone in sight as usual and did favours for anyone who asked, as he did all his life, to the extent that, when he was married, he had to agree to come straight home on pay day before any of his later mates could cadge a loan from him.
When he was able to be moved, he was taken by Hospital ship to Malta (see photo of him in the hospital in Malta on the left) and later on the hospital ship “Delta” to England and to Saint George’s Hospital Stamford SE (London), England. He was 16 years old. Apart from the obvious injuries, the growth centre on one of his legs was affected adversely and one leg was always about one and a half inches shorter than the other and the right knee was never able to lock in the usual way. He had to throw this leg forward with the thigh muscles as though it was a wooden leg and he always had a bit of a limp. When he had a new pair of trousers (not often) he would have to lay them out on the ironing board (which he had made for Mum) and measure and iron up the short leg, cut off the excess, and hand stitch it into place.
He was later transferred to Abbeywood and Monte Video, Weymouth, England. I expect this was for rehabilitation as he had to learn to walk again. He was finally discharged from hospital on 11th of August 1916 (a year and four months after his injury) and on the 12th 0f November 1916 He was embarked on the Hospital Ship “Wiltshire” with hospital duties, bound for Australia.
When he arrived back in Australia in January 1917, he was discharged with a pension, but marched right back in to camp and had this order cancelled and returned to duty at AMC (Army Medical Corps) Royal Park and then to Army hospitals at Broadmeadows and Seymour.
On the 9th of May 1917, he was embarked again in Sydney and landed at Suez on 20th May and was taken on strength in the 3rd Light Horse Field Ambulance. They travelled across the North Sinai desert and made several attempts before capturing Gaza. They then needed to capture Beersheba (7 wells) to prevent the Turks coming around by that route. He was with this unit during the famous charge on Beersheba. (31.10.1917) The charge was so audacious and successful that it became a legend in the ranks immediately and the Ambulance Corps had much cleaning up to do as the Light Horse charged across the open desert with no cover from enemy rifles and cannon and leapt right over the Turkish trenches.
He was in hospital again shortly after with diarrhoea but he was back with the 3rd LHFA at Belah and Wadi Auja on the road to Damascus during which time they traversed the tortuous road through the hills from Jeruselem to Jericho of which Dad did speak several times. He never did reach Damascas due to being hospitalised with Furunculitis. (Boils all over the body.)
Dad always spoke of Banjo Paterson as though he knew him and I don’t know if he knew him before the war or not but Banjo was the horse master at Moascar who supplied mounts to the 3rd Light Horse and all other units at this time and place so he would have met him there as well. Dad was a great fan. He was able to recite “The Man From Snowy River”, “The Man From Iron Bark”, Mulga Bill’s Bicycle” and others. He would also recite bits from “the Sentimental Bloke” by C.J.Dennis. (ér name’s Doreen. Well spare me bloomin’ days!) with which he teased Mum. He was a great talker and would chat up anyone, anywhere, anytime- he was just interested in people. He even told me once about using sign language (on Gallipoli) to communicate with Turkish soldiers who were on burial details at the same time he was. Great work for a 16 year old! Both sides would call a halt to fighting while they buried the dead.
One story which Dad told me when he had one or two drinks was about riots one night in Cairo when the Australians became disenchanted with the way they were ripped off in the cafes and houses of ill repute by high prices and diseased women. They were trashing and setting fire to the establishments in question. This is actually recorded in several histories of the war. During this chaos, Dad and another soldier, dressed up as Egyptian hoories, stole an MP’s motorbike and sidecar. When they were chased by other MPs, they were having trouble getting away so they drove straight off the end of the pier and swam of as far as they could before emerging from the water in the dark and losing their disguises. The histories all confirm the story of the riots and fires and the furore caused by the Australian troops at this place and time.
Another one of Dad’s stories, confirmed by historical accounts, was about the shortage of ordinance on Galipoli. The men saved jam tins and condensed milk tins which they filled with scrap metal and stones, packed with gun powder and fuses and used as bombs. Their rations of water were very small and Dad did not like being dirty and messy. I remember him being meticulous about bathing, shaving and looking after his clothes.
At one point, he spent 5 weeks in hospital with diarrhoea or most likely dysentery. At about this time his mother’s address was altered to 62 William St Sydney. Her daughter Lucy lived in Sydney at this time and Lucy’s husband was a ship’s captain so he would have been away at sea. Lucy had small daughters at the time.
Dad’s Irish grandmother on the Johnson side was apparently a rabid Irish patriot. I think, judging by things he said from time to time, that she had filled his head with lots of her ideals. At any rate, the story goes that he was in Dublin on leave during the Easter Rebellion in 1916. It could have been his leave before being shipped home. Being full of his grandma’s ideas he thought he should join the rebels. (In his Australian uniform.) The rebellion failed and many were arrested and executed. When he was questioned, he said that he heard the shooting and thought he was back in the trenches and had to fight. When they saw the extent of his wounds, they let him go. I have found that there were Australian soldiers in Dublin at that time- lots of them would have had Irish ancestry.
Finally, he was returned to Australia on the Hospital Transport ”Berrima” and discharged in Melbourne on 18th April 1918, where his address was 24 Cecil St. North Fitzroy.
Charles J. Johnson’s discharge papers list him as 5ft 5ins tall and weighing 9 stone. This was 1 inch taller than his enlistment height. A miracle considering what he had been through.
April 1919
Along came the 2nd World War and Dad tried to enlist again but his age and his injuries were against him. They gave him a job in the Ammunition Factory in Footscray instead.