It is easy to forget that until quite recently, most people sent handwritten letters to loved ones when they were apart. It was no different for many Australian service personnel and their families during the First World War. Letters and souvenirs were sent home, while many of those left at home sent care packages, knitted socks and even pressed Australian flowers overseas. After the war, these mementoes were often treasured.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
$0/
(min cost $0)
or signup to continue reading
Many First World War keepsakes are personal. Reading other people's letters, even those 100 years old, can feel like eavesdropping on private conversations. You can learn much but not necessarily understand everything. You can feel you are getting close to what people really thought.
This is how it was for me when reading the extensive wartime papers of Sir Cyril Brudenell Bingham White (1876-1940). A Boer War veteran, White was chief of staff to General Birdwood during World War I regularly promoted and highly regarded for his administrative and tactical abilities. While serving overseas, he and his wife Ethel, who stayed in Australia, exchanged letters. Their letters survive.
Highlights of White's papers are on display in the National Library of Australia's current exhibition Keepsakes: Australians and the Great War. White was a sensitive, extremely capable man and, like millions of others, was subjected to an extraordinary test of endurance. In his letters to his wife, he is candid about his feelings and his opinions of those around him, perhaps to an extent he never was in person. Letters were lifelines to former lives and hopes for the future.
In the exhibition, we see both the public and private sides of White's wartime experience. The pocket diaries he used during the war briefly note each day's happenings. (He used a different-looking one each year.) He was mentioned in dispatches numerous times, so we have some of his certificates on display. One of my favourite things is the message White received on Armistice Day. He pinned a note to it, which reads: "This is actual message received by me as Major General General Staff Vth British Army notifying that hostilities would cease at 11am on 11th Novr 1918". Beneath, he has signed his name. A keepsake if ever there was one.
The White family's affectionate correspondence forms the private part of the display. A highlight for me is the letter his wife sent him in July 1915. She enclosed a piece of wattle, which has stained the letter. She writes: "The first of the wattle is out here now, I must send you a bit for remembrance - only being the Cootamundra species it has no scent like the silver & other varieties." The letter and wattle are on display, the wattle still in excellent condition. She signs off "Well my dear old man I must stop now & go to bed - all my news seems exhausted. I wish I could see you - if I had no small 'nippers' I would go to Egypt to be near you. All my love my darling old man is always with you. Ever your old woman Ethel".
Finally, a letter to his young son, written in capitals a month after the Armistice looks forward to the reunion of this young family, now all but assured: "Daddy is looking forward to seeing Pat and sends him a big kiss".
White's collection of keepsakes from WWI is just one rich example that allows us to examine the private person and family behind a public figure. We see both how they coped with the war and how they wanted to remember it.
Susannah Helman is acting curatorial manager, Exhibitions Branch, National Library of Australia and one of the curators of Keepsakes: Australians and the Great War
