National Myths – Bastard Horses and Scared Heroic Young Men.

National myths, every country has one. Humans need a sense of belonging. Who am I? We want to be part of something more than a mixed-up land full of people scrambling for a living. Australia’s national myth captures boys who fought and died in World War1, our (ANZACs).

The above postcard is but one of many sent by home sick Aussie boys.

A Postcard I first observed sometime back in the 1960’s: 1960’s! Ask your Grandma, it’s in all the history books. But, first let me introduce my Uncle Leslie Loveday, my Great Grandfather’s Brother.

Leslie sent this Postcard from Egypt to Australia on Feb 06, 1916. He had volunteered for war and joined the 1st Australian Imperial Force (AIF) Light Horse, a mounted infantry unit. Leslie was a country lad: riding, shooting, and living rough was part of his way of life. Leslie was like all Light Horseman: Rough, tough, adventurous, brave, courageous – ever up for a drink, smoke, and a bloody good laugh.

Les wrote to my Great Grandmother Annie: “Dear Annie, With Best Love Les“. Six months since seeing Annie, he might have been dead or gravely wounded: That’s all he could muster! Never accuse Les of verbosity!

Family heroes and National Myths.

As a child, Uncle Les was a mystery to me. A considerable hero in my family and certainly part of the Australian National Mythology which has developed around the 1st AIF Light Horse. The Light Horse became Australia’s crack special forces of World War 1. Over 100 years, they now carry the burden of all that Aussies aspire to be: Straight, Honest, Brave, Fearless, Straight Talking, Loyal and True – Ridgee Didge even!

Uncle Leslie was a ‘Philosopher,’ not literally, but that was the teasing name created by those who enlisted in 1914. See Leslie, apparently thought deeply about it for 2 years, then finally joined up in 1916. But,

The real truth was Uncle Les was only then just 16. When Uncle Les’ Squadron arrived in Egypt, it was immediately broken up. Three quarters were sent to Gallipoli, Les remained in the Middle East. This probably saved his life as Gallipoli, and later the European Front, were slaughterhouses. The role Les’ mates served in France, contributing to ending WW1 can be reviewed at this Link.

Les spent the War chasing Turkish cavalry around the Palestine Desert. Les rode a ‘Waler’ into battle. Another Aussie Iconic image, the stout, ugly, tough, loyal, and resilient war horse unique to Australia.

Now I only learnt all this recently. Not one person in my family had any such details. It seems the details of National Mythology do not really matter: What is important is the transformational power of the message. Something else I discovered.

Reality versus Myth.

Les is not actually my Great Grandfather’s Brother; Les is actually the brother of my Great Grandmother. So, Les is actually Leslie Smoothie. Yes, I know why does that matter? It does not, other than it exposes my bias for thinking in terms of men’s history. And it also explains why I could not find any details in Aussie War Records for Leslie Loveday. To be honest, I started to think the Family Mythology was a well-kept secret scam. So, what happened to Uncle Les?

Les came home in one piece. The Australian War Museum records that on one occasion Leslie’s Troop surprised a Turkish Armoured Patrol Boat resupplying in a canal. Typical of the Light Horse, they attacked, armed only with 303’s rifles and a handful of Lewis Guns, the automatic weapon of its day. Predictably, the Aussies were quickly outgunned by the heavy deck guns of the Patrol Boat. Leslie conducted a one-on-one duel with the Patrol Boat, he armed only with a Lewis. Dodging, weaving, and popping up from sand dunes, Leslie brought time for his Troop to withdraw, then I imagine skedaddled.

Uncle Les lived out his life as a baker in a small Australian country village, not far from where I now live. A humble quiet life. Presumably, he knew my grandmother, may have got drunk at my Mother’s Christening. He may well have known my dad, as I remember Les’ Brother-in-Law, my Great Grandad George Loveday. George and my dad were sitting in the sun rolling cigarettes, must have been around 1968. But,

National Mythology.

I’m guessing, as you can see: The details of National Myths don’t really seem to affect their powerful presence in our lives. So, the point of all this? Well, it is a good ripping yarn if nothing else. It speaks to how National Mythology develops, it’s often careless with the details. Enduring no doubt, all Nations require a foundational storyline. Whether they are true or not, or whether Nations are better for their existence. Whether individuals’ lives are improved for them. I am pretty confident it depends more on lives well lived by humble men like my Uncle Les.