Scotch College

Old Boys vist Gallipoli

Old Boys visit Gallipoli

Last year two Old Boys each accompanied by their wives set out to fulfil a long held wish to tour the Australian battlefields of World War 1.

Jim McCoy (43) and Jim Kelso (47) had not met before, but Jim McCoy soon recognized the Kelso name as that of a master who had taught him at Scotch and had died near the end of McCoy's time at Scotch.

Pictured: Jim Kelso ('47) reading the Boyd C Thomson poem at the AIF Burial Ground Cemetery.

This master was Jim Kelso's father, also a Jim Kelso (James A E Kelso) who taught at Scotch from 1925-1942. A bond was soon formed between these two couples.

Jim Kelso had done his research. There were two Old Collegians in particular whose grave he wanted to visit, both men that his late father had spoken of as well: Boyd Cunninghame Campbell Thomson buried at Flers in France not far from the Belgian Border and James Drummond Burns buried in Shrapnel Valley at Gallipoli. Jim Kelso had even created Scotch College rosettes to place on these two graves (see photos).

There was no trouble with the very experienced and able guides. When the time came they knew exactly where these graves were to be found.

What made these two young men so special to Kelso and to McCoy? After all, nearly 200 Old Scotch Collegians and masters had made the ultimate sacrifice during WWI.

Thomson was two years older than Burns and both were brilliant writers, especially poetry. Each had been Editors of The Collegian: Thomson in 1912 and Burns in 1913-14. It is hard not to be moved by the sensitivity of their poetry. Just one example of the writing of each.

Thomson wrote; and Jim Kelso read part of it over his grave:

To The Mother School

Mother, thy blessing! the time has come
To follow the rest of thy stalwart sons
Forth, to the sound of the rolling drum,
So soon to be lost in the roar of guns,
Where the banner of Britain to glory runs.
Mother, thy blessing! the time has come.

Mother, thy blessing! before we go,
Leaving all that is dear to heart,
Love of the home and the fireside glow,
Love of music and delicate art -
With these and more it is hard to part;
Mother, thy blessing! before we go.

Mother, thy blessing! for life was sweet,
Sweet with the love of a thousand things,
And every hour that sped so fleet
Flung a flood of joy, as the morning flings
The light of life from its radiant wings.
Mother, thy blessing! before we go.

Mother, thy blessing! we want for thee,
"Twas little to give, but much to lose;
But how could we think of thee else than free,
While supple of sinews and strong of thews?
How could we falter, or worse - refuse?
Mother, thy blessing! we want for thee.

Mother!, our brothers have gone before;
They call - they call us to join the fray,
And shadows of faces that are no more,
The faces we loved so, cold and grey,
Cry loud for vengeance; how can we stay?
Mother!, our brothers have gone before.

Mother! Thy blessing! and then good-bye!
While you wish for your sons a happier aim
Than that a man go forth to die
For a faith that is more than an empty name,
For a faith that burns like a scorching flame,
Mother! Thy blessing! and so good-bye!

August, 1915

… and Burns wrote

For England

The bugles of England were blowing o'er the sea,
As they had called a thousand years, calling now to me;
They wake me from dreaming in the dawning of the day,
The bugles of England - and how could I stay?
The banners of England, unfurled across the sea,
Floating out upon the wind, were beckoning to me;
Storm-rent and battle-torn, smoke-stained
and grey,
The banners of England, and how could I stay?

O England, I heard the cry of those that died for thee,
Sounding like an organ voice across the
winter sea;
They lived and died for England, and gladly went their way -
England, O England, how could I stay.

May 1915

Burns never did see England.

Victorias School at Villers Bretonneux where the students are continually reminded not to forget Australia because they restored it to the French people.

Dick Briggs - Co-Archivist