- The following poems have been copied from many sources, where known the author has been indicated. They are poems of particular significance to the men of the 2/4th Machine Gun Battalion and to the families and friends they have left behind. Many of the poems were first published in the Battalion’s postwar ‘Borehole Bulletin’.
Great Love Hath No Man – Darwin 1941 … by Major Alf Cough, O.C. Don. Coy. 2/4th MGB. Forwarded to us by Lauraine Cameron, daughter of Colin Cameron. This poem is mentioned in ‘Ghosts in Khaki’ P58.
Those Young Dorizzi Boys … by Chris Taylor
- The Poppy … by John McCrae
- Mates … by Duncan Butler 2/12th Field Ambulance
- To A (WX) Mother … by Pte Frank Collins NX32561 – this was sent to Ted Hopson’s mother. Ted died in 1944 Sumatra.
- Please read further about Ted Hopson
- Free Again …by Cpl. G.W.Wills 8048958 US Army
- Fifty Years …by ‘Slim’ Pitts WX7626, 2/4th MGB
- No More Letters Home by Chris Taylor
- Singapore … by Dame Mary Gilmore
- The Fate of the Second Fourth …(probably written in Darwin) writer unknown.
- Our Departed Comrades …by Ted Murtagh WX10792 2/4th MGB (Green Force working on the Burma end of the railway.)
- The Darwin Lament – 2/4 MGB, AIF – Abroad, Malaya 24/1/1942 … by Lt. G A Raphael, executed 19/2/1942 by Japanese Imperial Army.
- Remembrance … Major Alf Cough 2/4th MGB for first Parade of 2/4th, March 1942 Changi, Singapore.
‘Georgie/Nautical mite’ is none other than George Gwynne.
John – is unknown!
Those Young Dorizzi Boys
Three brothers joined to fight the war, three brothers and a friend,
With no idea of where they’d go or when that war would end.
These boys were the Dorizzi brothers, Gordon, Bert and Tom
And Toodyay was the country town these brave young men were from.
Their friend was Reggie Ferguson, who signed up with his mates
To fight against the Japanese, prepared to meet their fates.
Their country needed soldiers to help even up the score,
So our four boys from Toodyay town marched off to join the war.
Tom had a wife and daughter, Reggie had two girls as well,
And who could know how hard it was to bid them all farewell.
And other towns across the state with men of fighting age
Would send their sons away to be a line on history’s page.
With other West Australians off to training camps they went
As soldiers of the 2nd/4th Machine Gun Regiment.
Then onto ships and sailing to another foreign shore,
Our 2nd/4th machine guns would be sent to Singapore.
This tiny island nation was important for Japan.
A step toward Australia it was vital to their plan.
Malaya had been taken, they had Singapore in sight.
The 2nd/4th Machine Guns were now thrown into the fight.
Along with other forces they put up a grand defence.
For one long month they held against fierce Japanese offence.
The enemy were far too strong and captured Singapore.
Our Dorizzi boys and Reggie were now prisoners of war.
Some men were sent to Changi for the Burma Thailand rail
To suffer new brutality of monumental scale.
But our boy’s fate would be much worse, they’d suffer to a man.
Our four young lads from Toodyay town were sent to Sandakan.
They had to build an airfield for the Japanese Air Force
And knew they would be there until the war had run it’s course.
But our brave men would not forget what they were fighting for.
Defence of Home and country was their purpose in this war
One thousand young Australian men were sent to Sandakan,
And each one to a soldier was worth ten of any man.
They suffered from starvation and were worked until they dropped.
They beat them if they faltered and they shot them if they stopped.
But when the allies dropped their bombs the prisoners all cheered.
The airfield was beyond repair before the smoke had cleared.
And our four boys from Toodyay town cheered too at what they saw,
They knew though they were prisoners they had not lost the war.
The Japanese were beaten so they fled from Sandakan
And forced our men before them as their final march began.
One sixty miles through jungle growth they marched toward Ranau.
Through three long years as prisoners, their fates were final now.
We cannot know of their last thoughts, or how they might have passed,
But hope they knew salvation as they found relief at last.
One thousand of our finest men, all prisoners of war,
Yet only six Australians would make it home once more.
For Gordon, Bert and Tom and Reg their fight was not in vain,
But all their friends and family were left to feel the pain.
The 2nd/4th Battalion still revere the men they lost,
But only those brave men could know what freedom truly cost.
So let us not forget they sacrificed all they could give
So you and all Australians could have the life we live.
Three brothers and a mate who will be coming home no more,
They lost it all in Sandakan when they went off to war.
Mates … by Duncan Butler 2/12th Field Ambulance
I’ve travelled down some lonely roads,
Both crooked tracks and straight.
An’ I’ve learned life’s noblest creed,
Summed up in one word … “Mate”.
I’m thinking back across the years,
(a thing I do of late)
An’ this word sticks between me ears;
You’ve got to have a “Mate”.
Someone who’ll take you as you are,
Regardless of your state,
An’ stand as firm as Ayres Rock
Because ‘e is your mate.
Me mind goes back to ’42,
To slavery and ‘ate,
When man’s one chance to stay alive
Depended on ‘is Mate.
With bamboo for a billy-can
An’ bamboo for a plate.
A bamboo paradise for bugs
Was bed for me and “Mate”.
You’d slip and slither through the mud
And curse your rotten fate,
But then you’d ‘ear a quiet word:
“Don’t drop your bundle Mate.”
And though it’s all so long ago,
This truth I ‘ave to state:
A man don’t know what lonely means
Til ‘e has lost his “Mate”.
If there’s a life that follers this,
If there’s a Golden Gate,
The welcome I just want to ‘ear
Is just, “Good on y’ Mate.”
An’ so to all that ask me why
We keep these special dates,
Like “Anzac Day” …
I answer: “WHY??! – We’re thinking of our MATES.”
An’ when I’ve left the driver’s seat,
An’ handed in me plates,
I’ll tell ol’ Peter at the door,
“I’ve come to join me Mates.”
To A (WX) Mother … by Pte Frank Collins NX32561
Hopson successfully escaped from Singapore to Sumatra around the end of fighting, Feb 1942. He was taken POW by Japanese in early March 1942 and imprisoned Gloegoer POW Camp. Her was one of about 100 Australians. Others from 2/4th also captured in Sumatra included Annear, Squance, Burgess, Semple, Magill, Harold Smith
Fifty Years … by ‘Slim’ Pitts WX7626
No More Letters Home … by Chris Taylor
“Hello Mum” the letter started, just like the ones she’d read before
And she reads them once or twice a day since her son went off to war.
She doesn’t get them often now because they come from far away
Still, she sits on her verandah and waits the postman every day.
Hoping with her every prayer there’ll be more letters home.
To his father he’s a digger and the family pride and joy
But to her he’s not a soldier, he’s just her handsome grown up boy
She’d pleaded with him not to go, “Please just stay and work the farm”
She feared that even with her prayers her boy might come to harm.
And then she knew there’d have to be no more letters home.
But no matter how she pleaded, she could never change his heart
And stood there watching through her tears to see her boy depart
He had written lots of letters in those first few months away
But the time between grew more and more and he had less and less to say.
And she worried it would all too soon mean no more letters home.
This letter had come weeks ago but from where she didn’t know.
He rarely told her where he was or the places he might go
But he asked after the family and the friends he left behind
And told her of the newfound mates that he’d been blessed to find
And she hoped that all these newfound friends had sent their letters home.
He promised her as always that he was fit and doing fine
And that so far all the fighting was much further down the line.
She knew of course that wasn’t true, as mothers always know
But she loved him for the little lie and simply let it go.
Still praying there would always be more letters coming home.
She glanced up from her letters when the knock came on the door
And looked out through the window as she walked across the floor.
At the military vehicle that had been parked out on the street
And her mind began to scream, her heart began a stronger beat
They had finally come to tell her there’d be no more letters home.
She paused a moment at the door as the tears began to rise
Then bravely called on all her strength and with her apron wiped her eyes.
She thought about her husband and wished he could be here
To hold her, just to hold her and help her face the fear
Instead she’d have to tell him why there’d be no more letters home.
She opened up that heavy door and stood there frozen into place
And saw the soldier standing there with his worn and weathered face.
He stood a little awkward on the crutch that helped him walk
But she recognised his smile as soon as he began to talk
“Hello Mum, my war is over, so there’ll be no more letters home”.
Singapore … by Dame Mary Gilmore
Dame Mary Gilmore, recognised for her services to Australian literature, wrote a pretty fiery poem, March 1942, on the fall of Singapore. Read her poem Singapore .
The poem below was printed in ‘Borehole Bulletin’ July 1990.
Our Departed Comrades
In the depths of southern Burma
Our departed comrades lay
Their grave there, marked by crosses
Beside the railway stay.
To make the hellish passage of those
Who passed that way.
They toiled, starved and suffered,
Our captors did not care
If we had no food or medicine
To fight disease with there
And when there came a small amount
They had the lion’s share
The doctors fought their hardest
And did their level best
To bring them through the darkness
To keep life in their breasts
But they went on their journey
And we left them there to rest
Comrades, left behind out there,
In our hearts will be
Your memory, till our race is run
And we meet up there with thee.
The above poem was written by Ted Murtagh, who worked on the Burma end of Burma-Thai Railway with ‘A’ Force Burma, Green Force No. 3 Battalion, it was supplied by his daughter to 2/4th and included in Borehole Bulletin January 1999.
THE DARWIN LAMENT
The Colonel’s brow was sad, the Colonel’s brow was low,
A thinking of the 2/4th and where they ought to go,
‘Cos they were down in Woodside and he had had enough
Of getting around in overcoats and sweaters and in muffs.
So he called to him his Adjutant, and said “I’ve got it son,
We’ll take em up to Darwin, there’s work there to be done,
They say the climate’s nicer there and sun shines all year,
It may be hot, but never mind, we’ll have ice in our beer”.
Then he asked the mob quite nicely “Now who’ll come with me,
North to flaming Darwin, to keep me company”.
The mob they didn’t like it much, but said they’d stick around,
‘Cos why he was their Colonel, they couldn’t let him down.,
Up we comes to Darwin, by railway and by truck,
We knew before we saw the place that we were out of luck,
The ruddy heat was terrible, we lost weight by the stone,
And what was left the sandflies ate, we were never left alone.
But now we’re getting used to it, the flamin’ rotten place,
Tho’ as to us a likin’ it – that just ain’t in the race.
And now that we’ve got settled down and got a bit of push
They send us out a-building roads along the ruddy bush.
But if we think we’re wanted here, we’ll stick it, never fear,
The people may feel safer now the 2/4th are are here,
And when we’ve built their flamin’ roads
And kept the Japs from Darwin,
We’ll maybe get a few days leave – to breast the ruddy Bar-in.
So now you blokes who moan a lot,
Just listen to this poem,
And thank your lucky stars you’re here
To help the Choco’s guard your home.
The above poem was included in July 1990 Borehole Bulletin having had earlier requests for somebody to send to the Editor.
The Author is unknown.
2/4TH AIF ABROAD, MALAYA … By Lt. G .A. Raphael, WX3447 – Intelligence Officer, Battalion HQ, 2/4th Machine Battalion. Written ‘Abroad, Malaya, 24/1/1942’
REMEMBRANCE … By Major Alf Cough, 2/4th MGB. Written for first parade of 2/4th March 1942 at Changi, Singapore. It was read at the 2000 Fall of Singapore Service, POW Memorial, Kings Park organised by John Lane (previously known as Ramsbottom).