My Dad – George Stanley McCrohan

by John Stanley McCrohan

My father was born George Stanley McCrohan on 15 January, 1894 and lived with his parents, 7 brothers and 5 sisters at 77 Arthur Street, Fairfield. At the age of 19, on 13 July,1915, Dad enlisted in the Army at Fairfield.  On 18 November,1915, as Gunner G S McCrohan 6376, 10^th Battery, 4^th Field Artillery Brigade, Australian Imperial Forces, he along with many other young men of his time, embarked at Port Melbourne on His Majesty’s Australian Transport Wiltshire (HMAT AI8), a steamship requisitioned by the Australian government for use as a troop carrier. Sailing into the unknown, they departed in high spirits, landing initially in Egypt; Dad was promoted to Corporal 10 days before they disembarked at Marseilles, France on 19 March 1916.

The 10^th Battery moved north on foot through Harvé reaching Armentieres on 8 April, 1916. They fought long and hard in this general area for many months and on 3 January 1917, Dad received another promotion to temporary Sergeant while fighting in the Lagnicourt Valley on the Western Front.

On 1 May 1917 the 10^th Battery came under very heavy bombardment and an ammunitions dump at the rear of one of the guns was hit by an enemy shell and caught fire. Dad ran from where he was sheltering and at great personal risk, extinguished the fire saving lives and equipment. For his gallantry he was awarded the Military Medal.

Later that month, on the 19 May and in the same area, a direct hit was taken on number 1 gun. The guns camouflage caught fire and in turn set fire to the ammunitions dump. Dad again ran into the burning pit and with the help of Bombardier Park, threw out burning shells, some of which exploded. They threw earth on the burning wood and later completely extinguished the fire with water. The number 1 gun site and about 500 rounds of ammunition were saved that day; for his quick thinking and brave action, Dad was awarded a bar to his Military Medal.

As the allied lines advanced, Dad was badly wounded by an enemy shell putting an end to his active service on the 19 August, 1917. He was taken to a nearby field hospital and given emergency treatment before being transferred to 1^st Southern General Hospital, Birmingham, England on 27 August, 1917. His injury was described as dilated action of the heart. He had shrapnel lodged against the wall of his heart which at the time doctors were not confident of removing safely. He was furloughed on the 19 October, 1917 with orders to report to Weymouth, England on the 2 November, 1917.

Whilst on furlough Dad had the opportunity to travel to Ireland, in particular to Kilarney, the birth place of his parents. He was in luck when he found the very church where they had been married and for his mother Dad made a wooden tray, all inlayed with veneer showing Muckross Abbey, the Gap of Dunloe and other local sites. When his mother passed away Dad kept the tray and later passed it onto me. Unfortunately I lost the tray when my home was destroyed in the Black Saturday Bushfires.

When Dad reported back to Weymouth he was repatriated to Australia on His Majesty’s Australian Transporter Persic (HMAT A34), which arrived in Melbourne on the 12 February 1918. Dad was formally discharged from active duty being found medically unfit.

This was not the end of his service however, as he and another Sergeant, whose name I can’t recall but believe was one of the first men to swim the English Channel, were sent to America on a recruitment campaign. They spent two weeks in San Francisco proudly wearing their uniforms; Dad’s uniform was the same as the Light Horse as they used horses to tow the big guns. I never heard whether the campaign was successful or not but on their last night in San Francisco they decided to go out for dinner in their civilian clothes, this turned out to be a terrible mistake as when they returned to their hotel they found their room had been broken into and their uniforms stolen. The only things left of Dads uniform were his long leather leggings which were passed on to me but again were destroyed in the bushfire.

After the war many of the returned service men of Fairfield got together and in 1919 the Fairfield RSL was formed. Dad being a builder used his skills and organised the returned servicemen to build the Fairfield RSL rooms behind the butcher shop at 11 Railway Parade, Fairfield, which still stand today. He was elected as President of Fairfield RSL in 1921 and 1922.

Dad went on to be a successful builder and business man, among many of his building projects was the original Ivanhoe Girls Grammar School, Ivanhoe. Most of all he was a devoted family man, marrying my mum Ruby and having three daughters before I was born, his only son, on 2 February,1936.

Late in October 1949, on a Saturday morning, Dad was unloading a 12” x 12” x 30’ (300mm x 300mm x 10 m) piece of timber when it slipped from the truck and fell on his foot. He jumped around for quite a while but then the pain eased and he continued on until midway through the afternoon when he felt squelching in his boot. He took the boot off to find his big toe completely smashed and went off to our family General Practitioner who treated it. Unfortunately it did not heal and gangrene set in; it was decided to amputate the toe. He was put through all the preoperative procedures, aware of the shrapnel against the wall of his heart and it was decided it was safe to operate.

A week later they operated but Dad did not respond as they expected. I went to the hospital once, I was only 13 years old, he had tubes coming out of him everywhere, for a young boy it was terrible and I wasn’t allowed to go again. Mum, my sisters and three brothers-in-laws visited him each day and each night I got into my unmade bed. After about a week I decided to get into bed upside down, putting my head down where my feet usually were. The next morning my brother in law, Ray Patching, himself a returned service man, woke me to tell me Dad had died. I lay there thinking it was my fault because I had slept back to front in my bed. I was only 13 then but deep down, I somehow still blame myself for Dads death.

His funeral was a big one, the mourning car came and picked Mum and I up and we left home at 1 Margaret Grove, Alphington, a guard of honour of returned service men, about 200 yards long, stretched along both sides of the road, up Tower Avenue all the way up to Heidelberg Road. I thought then, he must have been well respected.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your outlook, I never fought for my country. In 1956 I did my National Service and then continued on in the Citizens Military Forces (CMF) for about another ten years. I eventually resigned as my little family needed me more and more.

I too joined the RSL and have been President of Hurstbridge RSL since 2004. Now heading towards my eightieth year, I enjoy the camaraderie and on ANZAC Day and Remembrance Day (Armistices Day), being able to honour and remember on our fallen comrades…especially my Dad.

Bibliography:

Fairfield RSL

Australian War Memorial 

This story was first published in “Fine Spirit and Pluck: World War One Stories from Banyule, Nillumbik and Whittlesea” published by Yarra Plenty Regional Library, August 2016