A Gift from Egypt

In 1917, a young soldier on leave took a day trip down Port Phillip Bay in the excursion steamer Reliance. On the return trip, while there was a “sing-song” around the piano, he was joined where he was sitting apart, by a young girl to whom he’d been introduced earlier, “and we talked.” Sam continued, “By the time we reached ‘Little Dock’ at Spencer Street, I knew that I MUST meet her again.” He arranged to take her to Luna Park, and, returning by her curfew time, met the family. He continued, “I had great advantages because I was a soldier and I also came from an English family.

“From that day I knew that life for me would never be right if I had to part from this girl. … So for the remaining months before my departure overseas we proceeded to enjoy every remaining opportunity …. We went to all the live theatres and trips on charabancs on Saturdays & on the Reliance on Sundays.  She and Dad were the ones that saw me off on the train to Sydney for embarkation.”

Nell was only 17 and could not give any promises but they corresponded during the two years he was in Egypt. Sam later described her as a “good-looking girl with wonderful dull golden hair. [Actually, it was a gorgeous rich curly auburn] A thick curl hanging down her back. About 5’4” and slim. Blue eyes and a charming smile but her greatest attraction was her lovely personality.”

Sam Hyde Melbourne Baddeley, born in 1895 in Clifton Hill to Arthur and Mercia (Chantler) Baddeley, felt hatters from Cheshire and Lancashire, had applied to join the Army, but on 12th July 1915 was declared unfit to serve due to “Def[ective?] chest”. However his medical examination on 2nd March 1916 at the Clearing Hospital in Seymour merely recorded his height – 5 feet 2½ inches – and his weight, 98 pounds; his religion was given as Church of England, but his family had been strong Unitarians in England, and were Primitive Methodists in Northcote!

He was “Attested as a member of the Australian Imperial (Expeditionary) Force”, Number 17876 on 25th April 1916. Between then and embarkation on 31st August 1917 (two days after his 22nd birthday) on the Wiltshire he was stationed either at Seymour or the barracks at Royal Park. His height (or lack of it) placed him with the AAMC (Australian Army Medical Corps); while in Seymour he underwent training, and while in Melbourne, he later related to family members that he nursed people with bacterial meningitis at St Kilda. [This probably refers to the then military base hospital in St Kilda Road, possibly at what we knew as Victoria Barracks.[i]] In March 1917 he passed two apparently preliminary examinations and this sheet was endorsed “This man is a good concentius? [sic] worker.” Further sheets list the range of his training: first aid, hygiene, stretcher exercises, transport of wounded, field cooking, trench work, tent pitching …

On the 6th of October, 1917, he was disembarked at Suez, and marched in to Moascar, and on the 29th December, he “joined ? in 4 L H Trg Dept” – probably 4th Light Horse Training Depot – at Abbassia, where he seems to have stayed at the hospital. He was very proud of his attachment to the Light Horse, having a long lasting affection for horses, his wish to be a jockey blocked by an aunt’s determination for him to have a career as a bank officer.

While in Egypt, Sam said, “Our correspondence during my 2 years was very regular, but some of my letters were a bit stupid because I was really terrified that some one would grab her in my absence.” He sent her many gifts from Egypt, including some beautifully embroidered cushion covers, crafted by women who had been displaced by the war and who were making gifts to sell to the soldiers. He almost certainly sent her the postcard pictures, found with her papers, of Cairo and the area around it, in his letters, but one package he sent her was quite extraordinary, and romantic. I wonder whether he warned her it was coming, or whether it was a complete surprise. Either way, it would have stunned her.

It was a cylinder of metal, 60 centimetres long and with a diameter of 7.5 centimetres, entirely covered in calico, duly stamped and addressed. And when opened, it was found to contain an exquisite, white ostrich feather!

Family stories were that he nursed at the hospital in Egypt at first, later becoming the hospital cook. It must have been during this time that he attempted to clear a blocked chimney over a copper of boiling water and one of his legs slipped into the water. He was reported “sick to hospital” in Port Saidon 4th May 1918, the “casualty” having occurred on 29th April, and been described as “scald leg”. From then on his record has him moving back and forth between hospital and camp. His own story told of a long (successful) battle to resist amputation, his pain and the nursing sister who promised to save his leg. On 25th May 1919 he was transferred to Port Said R C, “Emb Aust”, then the record has him “To embarkation”, 17th  July, with “debility”, on the Dunluce Castle.

Sam disembarked in Sydney on 26th August 1919, and in Melbourne, “When [Nell] was at the embarkation centre when I returned & agreed that evening to an engagement I thought it was the greatest return home I could have hoped for.” Sam eventually resumed his career in the State Savings Bank of Victoria, and they married early in 1921, after Nell came of age.

They lived in a house in Upper Heidelberg Road, Heidelberg, just above the Austin Hospital. Their children, Arthur and Jean, attended Heidelberg State School; Arthur was then awarded a scholarship to Ivanhoe Grammar School, but moved to Melbourne High for the last two years of secondary school; Jean concluded schooling at Coburg High School.

The family moved to Montmorency in 1939-40; Sam continued his career in the Bank, retiring as a manager rather late because he preferred to remain close to educational opportunities for the children. (Arthur became an engineer and Jean, before and after her marriage to the Reverend Jock Ryan, of Diamond Creek, an art teacher.) Sam kept a large number of chooks as a hobby. Nell was a staunch worker for the local Anglican church and its charities. She died in 1959. Sam remained in Montmorency, very actively caring for his chooks with the company of his second wife, Hilda, until his death at 90 in 1985.

The feather, in its packaging, was part of the articles left in Sam’s house after his death, and had remained at the back of a cupboard in my house (I am Arthur’s widow) for many years. Coming across it, and remembering the story, I felt that with fourteen grandchildren between Sam’s children, another option for its destiny was needed, and this wonderful object which told so many stories should be in a museum of some kind. So I had an “opening” day with my grandchildren and took photos of it, before passing it to Jean so that she and her family could make the decision about its fate.

Jean and Jock, while being leading members of the Nillumbik Historical Society, had also been members for many years of the Heidelberg Historical Society because of Jean’s family connections with the area, and their family hesitated between that society’s museum and the Australian War Memorial. Their son Gary and his wife, Louise, Ivanhoe residents, decided on the local society, because, as members themselves, they or members of the family might wish to view it at some time in the future.

The cylinder is made of tin (probably), very carefully soldered into a tube, with two ends made from strips soldered at right angles to circles, so that they fit quite firmly but snugly over the ends of the tube as a lid. The tube was probably entirely covered in calico, sewn carefully on over the cylinder by hand, held also by two red wax seals, each about a third of the way from an end.

With the cylinder facing so that the address can be read, near the left-hand end is an inscription in Indian ink on the calico covering, written parallel with the left-hand end, ie vertically from the front view. It reads, “From/No 17876/Pte S H BADDELEY/AMC /AIF/Egypt”. This ends close to the line of hand stitching. With the tube facing again horizontally, a little further right is the square paper sticker with a capital R, familiar as indication that the parcel is by Registered Post. Further right is the first seal, on the stitching, and quite close is the address: above it near the stitching is written “On Active Service”. The address reads, MISS N. ROBINSON/ “COO-EE”/ LANG.ST./ SOUTH.YARRA/MELBOURNE/VICTORIA/AUSTRALIA.  Further along is the second seal, and close to the right hand end of the cylinder, are three stamps, still adhering, though a little curly at the edges! They are British stamps, all with portraits of King George V – a lime green one shilling stamp, a teal blue four-penny and a mauve three-penny stamp. Each stamp was postmarked, with the circles partially visible, also the occasional letter or number. The number 18 appears clearly on two of the stamps, suggesting that the parcel was mailed in 1918. [Would Sam have intended it as an eighteenth birthday gift? Nell turned eighteen on 2 January, 1918. This address also suggests that Sam might not have known that Nell’s name was a diminutive of her second name, Elena – she was in fact Edith Elena. Though she was always known as “Nell”, she always also signed herself after marriage as E E Baddeley, or E Baddeley.]

The beauty of the feather, even over 90 years later, still startles. Kept away from the light, it is still the purest white, exquisitely soft and very delicate. It had probably been wrapped in the tissue paper found with it, which would have absorbed any moisture. But in order to fit it into the tube, a portion of the centre of its length had been folded under, like a “tuck”; any attempt to straighten it would have damaged it, even at the time it was received – so it was never worn.

Ostrich feathers were a coveted fashion item in the period – they were traditional parts of Court Dress, and young debutantes presented to the King always wore or carried one. Sending such a gift to a young lady or a wife was a declaration of love. The construction of this cylinder and its mailing suggests that a trade existed in this and other articles for the soldiers to send home. Was it tradesmen in the army, or local people who carried out the work? Did the soldiers know of the damage caused to the feathers in order to fit them into the tubes? On the other hand, the length, about two feet (60 centimetres), may have been dictated by postal regulations.

Such an interesting object has a great deal to tell us about the time of its creation – about the soldiers and their dreams, the ingenuity of the makers, even the reliability of the postal system that carried it so far in such disturbed times, and perhaps the enterprise of the local Egyptians who might have participated in part of the trade. Instead of sitting in a cupboard, or being thrown out, it will remain to tell its story to anyone interested.

This account is based on Sam Baddeley’s official army record, as well as the original documents he had saved – his training manual and stories he told his family.  The quotations are from a written account found in his papers after his death.

It is an amended and expanded version of the story, published as “A Soldier’s Gift”  in Ancestor, the journal of the Genealogical Society of Victoria in December 2010.

By Patricia Baddeley January 2014

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


[i] Anne Gray, ‘ “Happy beyond measure”: a life’, Catalogue of the National Gallery of Australia’s exhibition, Mc Cubbin/ Last Impressions 1907-17 , 2009, page 33 : “Mrs Alfred Deakin served tea and buns to wounded and sick servicemen in a large marquee on the lawn at the military base hospital in St Kilda Road, Melbourne.” There is also mention of an outbreak of meningitis among the troops, with many deaths resulting.

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Wikinorthia is managed by the Local and Family History Librarian at Yarra Plenty Regional Library

One thought to “A Gift from Egypt”

  1. Such a wonderful and moving story! It would be wonderful to see a photo of the precious white ostrich feather or even to see it in person.
    Thank you for sharing this.

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