Robert (Bobby) Murdoch Pearce
Stephen LearmonthBobby was born on the 2nd of May, 1891, in Tallangatta, Victoria. He was the youngest of five children born to Henry Health and Arabella Grace (née Murdoch). Bobby’s mother would pass away when he was only three years old in May of 1894. The following year Henry married Kate West in Beechworth, Victoria. Bobby would go on to have five step-siblings, although one, Robert Arthur, would pass away in 1896 at the age of two.
Bobby enlisted three weeks after war was declared. His medical examination and completion of attestation papers were done in Keningston, east of Sydney. He was allocated the Regimental Number 517 and placed in the 4th Infantry Battalion of the 1st Infantry Brigade of the 1st Australian Division. At 23 years of age, he recorded his trade as farmer and his next-of-kin as his father, living at Wagra Park, near Tallangatta.
Just two months after war began, the first Australian and New Zealand troop convoy left Australia’s shores, arriving in Egypt on the 2nd of December. The battalion took part in the ANZAC landing on the 25th of April as part of the second and third waves. Upon reaching the shore Bobby jumped out of the boat he was on and strained a muscle in his groin. This would have implications on his health in the future.
By the 4th of May the battalion was in the front line. The war diary provides that the day was fine and the sea calm. The troops were repairing and improving the trenchline that they were holding. At some stage during the day Bobby was wounded by shrapnel in his left foot and one of his feet was scalded by hot water. He was admitted to the 2nd Australian General Hospital at ANZAC and then transferred to HMTS Gloucester Castle, which returned him to Egypt on the 11th of May.
While aboard the Gloucester Castle, he wrote a long and detailed letter home. Henry asked the editor of the Upper Murray and Mitta Herald to reprint it. They did so on the 1st of July, 1915.
“FROM PRIVATE ROBERT PEARCE.
Mr H. Pearce, J.P. of Wagra, three of whose sons have faced the music on the battle field, has received the following letter from his younger son Robert. Evidently, from his letter, Bob didn't know how badly his brother Tom was wounded, or that his brother Jack had also had to leave the firing line. But they got away before him, and the relative hope that by now they are both safe in England.
s.s. Gloucester Castle, 7th May, 1915.
Dear Home Ones,—You will probably wonder what I am doing sailing about on the briny, but the fact is I am slightly wounded' in the left foot, caused first by a dish of scalding tea on it, and then, on my way to get it seen to the cap of one of the enemy's shrapnel shells whacked my boot, and luckily only bruised my foot, instead as it should have, squashed it to pulp. However, I'm in the best of nick, and have no idea why they should have placed me aboard here. I'm not bad enough, and am worrying my head off how Jack and my other mates are getting on in the trenches, which I have just vacated. There is one comfort: I shall be back in a few days, quite fit, to once again slaughter Turks. At present we are bound for Alexandria, and have some very smashed-up poor fellows, who are to be installed in the hospitals there. Up to date we have had a very bad time, and, I am sorry to say, the casualties are pretty heavy. Poor old Tom got hit in the thigh last Sunday. He had volunteered to carry water to some of our mates under fire, and got hit just as he started. He is not badly wounded, and in two or three weeks ought to he himself again. In a way, I was glad he got hit and got away safely, as he was too game; and I'm afraid, sooner or later, would have been put right out. The lieutenant in charge when Tom got hit mentioned something about recommending Tom's bravery to head-quarters. Whether or not it comes off I can't say, as it was a day of gallant deeds. The same day, Jack got a little snick in the thigh, which only drew blood. That was the first day I saw him, but have since seen chaps who say he is all-right. Jack, as a matter of fact, doesn't know what fear is, and I had a hard job making him keep his head down when the bullets were whizzing close overhead. We have all had some marvellous escapes. A bullet bit my rifle when I was firing and stripped all the wood-work down nearly to my hands, leaving the barrel bare. Norman Grant's rifle also got a bang. Then the day Tom and Jack got hit, 30 of us went into what was called the "Valley of Death," and only five of us returned. Four of us were carting ammunition this day, and we had to run 12 yards under machine gun fire, without any cover. Two of the chaps were shot dead (one a pal of mine from Albury). Tom was wounded, and I was the only one who escaped in whole skin, so, if I got through this, I will take a ticket in Tatt's. Poor old Ern Turner got wounded in the arm—not severely, but enough to put him out of action for a few weeks. All the others were all-right when I left them. I am not likely to forget my 24th birthday in a hurry. It was spent in a perfect hell of shrapnel, lyddite, hand grenades and bullets. Every moment I expected to be my last- chaps dropping dead all round me—but some lucky star hugs me, and here I am, having a free ride. We are on a bonza boat and get waited on like toffs. It is heaven after lying in the trenches shivering all night with the cold. I have heard Bert Flockart led his men with great gallantry the first day we landed. His company are properly proud of him. I have just heard that he has been wounded and sent back to Alexandria. I think we are shaking the Turks up as there were dead 'uns lying everywhere when I left. The landing was pretty "onkus." The first lot—West Australians, South Australians and Tasmanians—found the enemy waiting for them on the beach. They waited for no orders, but just jumped out of the boats with their bayonets, charged up a young Mount Charley, and drove the Turks before them like so many rabbits. On Monday the 4th Batt. did a bayonet charge. As you may guess, when there is any fun like that going, we all had to be in it. We charged a hill about half a mile in our front, killed several Turks, and then, on account of a perfect hell of machine gun and shrapnel fire, were forced to retreat. It was a marvel how we came out of it alive, as so many were killed, including our colonel and major. Up to date, we must have, all told, about 7000 casualties. I can picture the sad homes in Australia, and fervently thank God that we three are still above board. There are 650 aboard here, all happy, though some of them are badly wounded. It is lonely to be here, away from the din: and, but for poor old Jack, I would be nearly happy. This morning I woke from sleep hurriedly. In my dreams, I had just dodged a cloud of shrapnel. The constant action in the trenches and the loss of sleep played havoc with a lot of the men's nerves; several of them have gone mad. You know this would be impossible for me, as I have long since been in a state of " bumfoozleum," so don't worry on that score. To-day I had some bread and jam, and it was paradise regained, after 10 days on cemented biscuits and tinned bully beef. I turned the heavenly morsel over on my tongue, and shut my eyes, like old Dougal used to do when he was swallowing a pint of beer. You should see the biscuits we get in the trenches. They are so hard. The boys prefer throwing them at the Turks instead of bullets; they hurt more. One chap had hard luck in one trench. He put his false teeth down to air whilst he went further down the trench, and, when he came back, a bullet had hit them and left only one tooth on the plate. He went down to the hospital soon afterwards and reckoned that he'd been hit in the mouth. The most troublesome factor during our recent fighting has been the snipers. These are usually the enemy's crack shots, and have been posted many days before we landed. They dig a hole deep enough to stand in, usually in a thick bush, where it's almost impossible to see them. Their rifles neither flash, smoke, nor make any noise. There they stand and pink off officers and men bringing provisions. Several of them captured lately proved to be women, and, in their little "dug-out," they had concealed three weeks' tucker and 1000 rounds of ammunition. I think it was one of these that got Tom; I hope he gets a lead pill presented to him before we finish. We feel no qualms at bowling over Turks. It's the normal cry in the trench when one gets " plonked, " Another doll down!" One night it rained in the trenches, and—talk about cold! We had no coats, having discarded them when we charged; in fact, all our gear was lost. I had a lovely lot of tucker in mine. Chocolate, figs, tea, sugar, cocoa and biscuits, my razor, flannels, &c., all went; and now I have nothing but the clothes I stand up in. Some of them would stand up without me, as I haven't changed for over a fortnight. Last night I had a lovely hot bath; it was great. I stayed in for nearly an hour, and then went to bed on one of the dining tables. To-day is Sunday, and are nearing Alexandria, which port we hope to make about 3 this afternoon. Some of as are going to Cairo, Heliopolis and Alexandria. I believe the hospitals are fairly full now, so goodness knows where we shall camp. I don't know how long the fighting will last where we are, on the Gallipoli Peninsula; I'm afraid not long. The British Division were driving the Turks back on us and we were shooting them over like wild-fire, when they came over near enough. The Turks won't face our bayonets. They go like mad whenever we show up at the charge, with the cold steel gleaming. I can tell you we make a very imposing sight. Being a slow runner, I've seen them from behind. I never was so glad before that I was such a poor hand at footing it; in the charges I am nearly last, and in the retirements I'm a long way in lead. Bill Ried was a surprise to everyone. He be- haved like a veteran under-fire, and was dishing-out lead over the trenches in much the same manner as he used to dish boots over the counter at home. Norm. Grant was in his element having a pot at snipers in the early morning. Norm, and I were in the same "dug-out" for days, whilst Tom and Jack were some 10 yards up the trench. It was almost impossible for the three of us to keep together for any length of time, as in the night rushes we always got separated, and then in the retirement we all came back as best we could. I was that knocked-up I couldn't run, but had to walk, and they were back before me and in their particular trench. There was no room, so Norm, and I dug a nice little house for ourselves, and a lucky one it proved for us, for in the next one to ours two chaps were hit—one killed and one wounded. I used to go and see Tom and Jack pretty often. Tom had a hole which he used to crawl in like a rabbit, when he got a chance to sleep. His favorite pastime was potting snipers, and he got a few, much to his delight. Our lieutenant got spluttered in the face with gravel, caused by a shell breaking just a few yards in front of the trench. It was very painful for a while, but he was back before I left. He is a bonza fellow, and took quite a fatherly and friendly interest in us, seeing that we were together, and he was very much upset when he heard that Tom was hit. Old Tom was a game 'un, and no mistake. He was as right as a button when they were taking him away from the firing line; you'd have thought he was going to a dance or skating. I hope I can find him in Alexandria. I feel an orphan without either of them — a stranger in a strange land—as I suppose, since we left home, we haven't been five minutes out of each other's company. Old Tom and I used to sleep together in camp. I am becoming Turkish now. I can speak about four languages — French, English, Turkish, Arabic, and bad language. We did a bit of fishing off Lemnos, the island we were at when we wrote last, and before we went fighting; but we had no luck. All we caught was a Greek's hat, an empty box and a bale of straw. There were about 160,000 troops in this harbor, in transports, numbering well over 100, besides warships, torpedo boats, flying machines that used to go up every day, balloon ships, and a host of other sea craft. It was a magnificent sight, and one which, I suppose, none of us will see again. "We were landed on a torpedo boat, and then towed in smaller wooden boats. At the beach, we had to wade ashore up to our waist. We all got ashore safely, although earlier and later there were a lot killed by shrapnel bursting over them. The warships let loose before and after we landed, and have been firing at intervals ever since. You should hear their 12in. and 15in. Guns go off. They nearly split your ears open and frighten the dickens out of you. The Queen Elizabeth is the biggest and most powerful warship yet built, and, of course, the best. She has 15in. guns on her, and, when she bangs, she pitches over a ton of metal into the enemy's "duck-house," about 12 miles away; much to their disgust. She is a marvellous piece of workmanship. During my sojourn in the trenches, she bowled over an armored train somewhere in the mountains, and hit one of the enemy's magazines, which caused a great flare. Every time she fires, it is estimated that it costs well over £1000. How would you like to have three or four shots? I must close now. Alexandria is nearly in sight, and things are beginning to bustle. Hope you will excuse this badly-written epistle, but it has been written in various attitudes (and not all of them comfortable), and at various times on deck. I shall write you a much lengthier letter from our destination, and when I have seen old Tom. Till then, adieu ! Heaps of love for each and all.
According to a later letter received, Private Robt. Pearce's injury was much more serious than he made out at first. A shrapnel splinter struck him in the abdomen, necessitating an operation; but the young fellow " kept the matter dark" until after the operation. It is on the cards that, as a result of the injury, the wounded soldier will be invalided home.”
Tom’s wounds were serious enough for him to be sent to England to hospital before being invalided back to Australia. He later married Emma Sinclair and they had four children. They settled in Wangaratta where he passed away in 1948. Jack returned from the war in 1919. He moved to Tasmania and married Winnifred Heath Pearce. They had one child, a daughter. Jack passed away in Carlton in 1982, aged 87.
In early June, while at the 1st Australian General Hospital in Egypt, he was operated on for hernia and varicocele, and a small haematoma (pool of clotted blood) on his scrotum. On the 16th of June a medical report at Zeitoun was written about his case. It was found that an appendix operation performed in Australia in April of 1914 had left scar tissue. After his mishap on the day of landing at ANZAC this had become painful and it had further been aggravated following his wounding. The weakening of his abdominal wall resulted in constant , and sometimes severe, pain and an inability to perform his normal duty. The medical board recommended that he be declared permanently unfit and returned to Australia.
On the 5th of July he embarked on the Ballarat at Suez and sailed home. Back in Melbourne, at the No. 5 General Hospital, Bobby fronted up to another medical board. The conclusion of this board would present a perfect example of government bureaucracy towards returning veterans. While on one page it stated that he suffered a ¾ total incapacity towards him earning a livelihood as a farmer (his stated occupation when enlisting), it was the opinion of the board that “we consider his incapacity as nil.” In one sentence the members of board had destroyed any chance of Bobby obtaining a pension.
Upon being discharged he teamed up with Thomas John Skeyhill, a former signaller in the 8th Battalion who had been blinded by a Turkish shell two weeks after landing on Gallipoli. Skeyhill was a poet and had composed many verses pertaining to time in uniform. In November of 1915 he appeared at the Tivoli Theatre, Melbourne, in full Gallipoli kit, reciting his poetry. Bobby joined Tom’s lecturing company, performing in skits and singing.
In May of 1917, Bobby became engaged to Florrie Sutherland. At the time she was a member of the J.C. Williamson Ltd., Royal Comic Opera Company and he was part of Signaller Tom Skeyhill’s Lecturing Company. They were married later in the year. In 1922, the Australia Variety and Show World magazine, Everyones, included a small snippet declaring that “Show people will be sorry to hear that popular Bobby Pearce, late of the Tivoli Theatre, is very ill, and has to be wheeled about in Tallangatta.” The war was still not over for Bobby.
By 1923, Bobby was part of Pat Hanna’s “Famous Diggers”, an apparent institution in the Melbourne suburb of St Kilda. A review early in the year stated that “their present season has been one of success. Although not as strong as one of the opposition shows, the standard of their bills improves weekly … Bobby Pearce, Johnny Marks and Pat Hanna carry the brunt of the work on their shoulders. The supporting company however, work hard, and altogether succeed in presenting good entertainment.”
The 1924 Australian Electoral Roll shows that Bobby and Florence lived at “Ailsa” Addison Street in St Kilda. Bobby was listed as being a pensioner as he was on a disability pension due to his injuries. However he was still able to entertain audiences as he and his “Diggers” company played at theatres including the Arcadia and the Trivoli.
Bobby’s injuries sustained during the war continued to plague him after he was discharged as an invalid. For two years after he arrived home he spent considerable time confined to a cot at the Caulfield Military Hospital. After being discharged from hospital his injury was such that he needed to be admitted at frequent intervals for further medical attention.
Bobby was a gifted vocalist and his voice was heard many times on various wireless programs. He often gave valuable service to organisers of various charitable functions which were organised for the relief of distressed families. In December 1925, after a prolonged illness, Bobby was part of the musical performances being broadcast on 3LO. His choice of songs continued to have a military flavour as sung “Trooper Johnny Ludlow” and “Two Grenadiers”. He continued to be a regular performer on 3LO for the next two years, although illness and the ongoing problems caused by his wounds from the war resulted in periods of hospitalisation. The photograph, appearing in the 19th of March, 1926, edition of On the Air, is the only image that could be found that included Bobby.
After a period of touring the country he returned to wireless, as mentioned in the 16th of March, 1928, issue of The Wireless Weekly.
“ONE OF THE DINKUMS:
Listeners will be glad to know that the popular baritone, Bobby Pearce, is again to broadcast from 3LO, adding much to the brightness and tunefulness of the prgramme. “Bobby” is one of the few vocalists who can manage to get their genial personality over the air, and, when he is singing one of his”soldier songs”, which, by the way, are his most popular numbers, he always conveys the true rollicking spirit of the trenches. Having made many concert tours through the country districts of Victoria, and other States, this favourite artist has a tremendous following “up country” who are always glad to welcome him back over the air.”
The 25th of April, 1928, edition of Everyones ran an article stating that the “Digger Show Reorganised”. Bobby was part of the Diggers’ Company, a music and theatre group that would perform for soldiers and charitable institutions.
He suddenly passed away at his home in Newstead Street, Caulfield, on Saturday the 7th of July, 1928. His funeral was attended by many people; the coffin, draped with the Union Jack, was followed by over one hundred cars and vehicles as it made its way to Cheltenham Cemetery. Afterwards, a Masonic service was conducted by officers and members of the Henty Lodge as Bobby had been a member.
The 11th of July, 1928, issue of the magazine “Everyones” included an article about Bobby’s death.
“MELBOURNE, Monday. - Bobby Pearce, the well-known Digger baritone, died suddenly at his home in Caulfield on Saturday. He had suffered severely with heart attacks, an after-effect of the war. Bobby was to have made a tour of the suburbs with the Diggers Company, commencing Saturday, July 28.
He was buried from the Caulfield Military Hospital to-day in the Cheltenham Cemetery, large numbers of returned soldiers being at the graveside. As has been said by friends of Bobby, he has died on two previous occasions; but heart-massage and other treatment has revived him. He was most outstandingly before the public eye when he organised the Anzac day Diggers’ Concert in the Melbourne Town Hall.”
Bobby is remembered on the Australian War Memorial Roll of Honour, and the Towong Shire Boer War and WW1 Memorial in the Memorial Hall in Tallangatta. For his service during the First World War, he was awarded the 1914-1915 Star, the British War Medal and the Victory Medal.
