A Personal ANZAC Day Commemoration Story

As a young man, I graduated from the Royal Military College of Australia (Duntroon), served as a commissioned officer in the Australian Regular Army, and was a commander in combat arms elements of the service...just as Thomas Patrick Elliott did. Tom was from Marrickville in Sydney, which is only a short distance from where I was born, went to school, enlisted in the Army, and live today...Perhaps because of this connection and similarity of our early lives, the conflict I have witnessed, and the terrible human tragedy associated with it, I feel a special affinity and deep sorrow for Tom and his mother. To me, both he and she represent the sadness, futility, and wickedness of war and provide me with a very personal connection?to the sacrifice of the ANZAC tradition.

This is a summary of Tom's story from the Australian War Memorial and other archives.

Tom Elliott entered the Royal Military College, Duntroon, on 7 March 1912 and was a member of the guard of honour formed by the corps of staff cadets at the naming ceremony for Canberra on 12 March 1913. He graduated from the college, receiving his Royal Commission on 2 November 1914, and was appointed as Lieutenant in command of a troop in B Squadron of the 7th Light Horse Regiment. The 7th Light Horse landed on Gallipoli in May 1915 as infantry and served mainly at the southern end of the front line. He was the Regimental Observation Officer until July 1915, when he became the Machine Gun Officer following the death of fellow ex-Duntroon cadet Alan Thorne. Tom was evacuated to a hospital in Malta in September 1915 with enteric fever. After returning to Egypt in January 1916, he was promoted to Captain, and appointed as Machine Gun Officer for the 2nd Light Horse Brigade.

Following a reorganization of the AIF (Australian Imperial Force) in March 1916, Elliott was specially requested by Brigadier General H.E. (Pompey) Elliott (no relation) to lead a Company in the newly formed 60th Battalion. Pompey wrote: “His personality was of such sterling value that the company speedily became a well-disciplined and trained fighting unit from a mere formation."

In France, Tom Elliott was promoted to Major (in June 1916) and acted as second in command of the 60th Battalion and was responsible for most of the arrangements for the attack made by his Battalion at Fromelles on 19th July. The 60th Battalion (part of the 15th Infantry Brigade of the 5th Division) was attempting to capture the 'Sugarloaf Salient' during the Battle of Fromelles. According to a witness, Elliott led the second wave when he 'dropped about 80 yards from our line. We saw him go down. Shortly after, he stood up and tried to get his tunic off; he got it off after a little while and then pitched forward into his face. He had a big gash in his back, as from high explosive. He remained there all bunched with his body in the air and his head on the ground as we went past in our wave. We did not see him as we came back the next morning.'

ELLIOTT, Thomas Patrick (seen above wearing the uniform and insignia of a Staff Cadet at RMC, Duntroon).

The author, with his mother (seen above wearing the uniform and insignia of a Staff Cadet at RMC, Duntroon).

Pompey Elliott thought highly of Tom Elliott and predicted he would become an 'Australian Kitchener'. Pompey had tried to keep him out of the Battle of Fromelles by temporarily transferring him to his headquarters. Still, Tom Elliott's battalion commander begged for him to return because of his ‘real military genius’ and because Tom himself wanted to be included. Pompey Elliott regarded the death of Tom Elliott as "the greatest individual loss the Brigade has suffered since its formation."

Now, as an older man, I look back across the years and recall the crack of the boots of the Corps as we marched the square at Duntroon, and I know that Tom heard the same rhythmic crack echoing over the same consecrated ground. Through this, I feel even closer to him than when I served. Indeed, as the years pass for me, many formerly distant and perhaps unreal events of history appear much closer than they did in my youth, and I relate to them more intimately. I did not know of Tom Elliott until relatively recently, but my sadness at his, and his mother's, story is deep and abiding.

Despite Tom's mother's outwardly stoic acceptance of his death in that far-flung field in France, the impact felt by her was immense (to understate this immeasurably), emotionally, physically, economically and socially. Her health declined, and she died alone some short years later - broken-hearted - never having recovered from the loss of her beloved son. Tom and his mother's story serves as a reminder to us all of the desperate waste and tragedy of war.

It is an iniquity of the collective human condition that the young are sent to fight and die in wars. If they are among those who return, they?continue to be ravaged by their experiences physically and emotionally for their remaining days. It is an experience that never leaves a person and is revisited upon one in many indescribable ways. Arthur Wellesley (Duke of Wellington) said, upon surveying the battlefield in the aftermath of Waterloo, that "next to a battle lost, the saddest thing is a battle won." Lest we forget.