Chris Wilson is hoping that someone has some old photos of Hellier Lefour Dolman (Harry), Horace Lefour Dolman and their families. If you have any of these photos please email them to me (dolman.andy@hotmail.co.uk) and I'll make sure they get passed on to Chris.
Also if you recognise this Watney's pub (it could be in Camden Town or in Islington, London) will you let me know, as Chris would like to find it. Horace is on this photo playing the accordian.
(Christopher Cameron Dolman was an uncle to my father -- George Cameron Atwell Dolman -- and he died on New Year’s Eve 1986, at the age of 91 years. We believe the following was written in 1970 when Christopher C. Dolman was 75 years of age. This odyssey takes us back nearly 100 years for a compelling glimpse into the life of a young stretcher bearer during World War I. My brother Jeff found these papers early in 2005 when he was helping our father sort through some of his possessions. It was in manuscript and I have transcribed it as written, preserving the thought process of the author. I did, however, add a few sentences from the draft copy, as they helped clarify some of his experiences. Still, there remain a few places where we can only guess as to the author’s meaning.
Margaret Schmitt, March 20th, 2005)
(Auto)Biography of C. C. Dolman
For a long time I’ve contemplated writing experiences of my early days and to the return home from World War I, 1916-1919. I trust it may help someone along life’s way. I was born at Alberton, South Australia (April 20th, 1895) the youngest of four sons; often I wished I had a sister. Fortunately for me I had a good Christian home, my father was a Sunday School Superintendent. Each Sunday morning my elder brother and I went to Christian Endeavour, this was for young people. I can remember the songs we sang and after 75 years I realize how much sacrifice these folk made so that we children could have Christian teaching to help keep us from evil ways. I guess we needed such help as all other folk did. While attending state school I remember one occasion the Head Master asked me my Christian name, he knew my surname, but wanting to make a good impression I replied “Christopher Columbus.” It so happened the Head Master met my father and mentioned about my name, this later meant a whacking for not telling the truth, it taught me a lesson to remember. I became interested in sport especially cricket for which I was supposed to have some potential, we practiced making strokes in front of a mirror, then would try making them when playing in a match. During Christmas school holidays we played test matches, was never interested going to the beach etc., but never missed a Test Match played on the Adelaide Oval. Earned pocket money cleaning horse stables. Some of the boys later played Sheffield cricket, I lost my chance of playing big time cricket when I left the city to work at a garden in the hills with my two brothers, it meant leaving high school, was one of the first pupils at Adelaide High, had to wait for school to be renovated. Found baching so much different from home life, but gradually became adjusted, and tried to make the most of it, at least I thought so; a neighbor had a gramophone and some nights we played several records, it passed the evenings which otherwise may have been lonesome. We went home some weekends, for which I was very grateful. At this time I hadn’t met anyone who went to church, so everything became so different to what I was accustomed, for instance, church life and Sunday school gradually faded out, I became dissatisfied with my way of life, then one night while looking through some books I found a Bible, being curious I thought of how long would it take me to read it through from cover to cover? Thus began a new life for me. I never read the Bible through, but read enough to help me decide to be a Christian. Now came a challenge, but I was determined to make a new start in life, so off I went to find the nearest church (some miles away). Services were held Sunday afternoon and evening Service once a month. Soon I became involved and more and more interested, soon to be asked to take a Sunday School class, later this led to taking Church Services. I remember the first service conducted. It came about because the man appointed to have the evening Service took suddenly ill, they could not find a substitute at such a short time so they asked me. As I approached the pulpit and faced the congregation it was as if a sea of faces and eyes were staring at me, somehow the Lord helped and gave me the courage to carry on. Quite a different experience came a short time later. It so happened a violent storm came over the countryside, a shepherd valiantly mustered his sheep into a gully so as to be away from the wind and cold, then he came and asked for shelter for the night. Sitting before a log fire we started to talk about the Bible and Christianity, soon to find that he was an unbeliever, we had quite a word tussle. I told him how I felt and believed, later he said to my brother (who had been reading about politics) “My word, that youngster gave me plenty to think about.” After this episode I began to Pray often and earnestly, to this end I found a hollow stump of a tree, it had been the victim of a huge bush fire, and made this hollow stump a secret place for prayer, spending almost every evening in Communion with God. I emerged from these wonderful experiences more determined to serve God. I became interested in the fair sex who attended the church, so said to myself no girlfriend for me until the right one comes along. Several months later I had just returned home from afternoon Church, it being a hot day I stripped and lay on my bed when suddenly a voice seemed to say, “Get up and meet her,” so startled, up I jumped, dressed, and off I went walking over the same ground I had previously travelled coming home from church, later I reached a footbridge, there a young man was standing and as I approached him he said, “Where are you going?” I had never spoken to him before, so surprised, I answered “anywhere,” then he replied, “What about coming home with me?” Though I had some misgivings about such friendliness, home with him I went and to meet the girl I married five years later. Taking church services in the district was my next move, my girlfriend often coming with me, sometimes we walked several miles each way. It was good to know that we both were believers, sharing in the Lord’s work. It became very clear to us we were being drawn to each other (notwithstanding much opposition). We were sure our love for each other was very true.
World War I broke out, there was much talk about young men enlisting, whenever men enlisted in the district they were given a great send off. This set up many thoughts in my mind even though only nineteen, and made me think of what I should do? Often Prayed about it seeking guidance what I should do, this mental struggle lasted several months about my being a Christian and what my duty was. My girlfriend was also worried, but now I felt that God would help and lead me to make a right decision. Then one night walking home, my mind was so disturbed, I knelt down in the middle of the road and prayed, somehow the answer came, what would Jesus do in my position, I couldn’t imagine Jesus as an infantryman, but surely he would be where most needed, tending to wounded in the front line as a stretcher bearer. I prayed so earnestly about it, and finally decided to enlist and become a stretcher bearer. Little did I know how the future would test my faith. Firstly being underage I had to obtain my Parents’ consent, then tell my girlfriend, this in itself was quite a problem. To walk nine miles and travel by tram was my first big effort, next my parents’ consent. I shall always remember my father’s words after I had told him my story about being a stretcher bearer, these were his words, “How can I say no when you feel so sure of a call to duty.” Away I went to enlist (February 7th, 1916), now started a real battle, men were being lined up for inspection, I refused to kiss the Bible as others were doing, it seemed not for me, but after a short explanation they accepted me. My mother was taking my enlisting rather badly, this worried me and put some doubt in my mind whether I was doing right by enlisting. The devil knows how to test a young believer. In camp the men were given “weekend leave,” each time I went home my Mother would ask the same question, namely, whether I was in the Field Ambulance, this worried me quite a lot, little did I know that if I was in the Field Ambulance I would not be where I wanted to be, and where I felt Jesus would have me be. Time passed in training and still carrying a rifle, each time on home leave my Mother would ask the same question and each time she would hear the same answer, then she would add these words, you will never get what you enlisted to do. This tried my faith greatly, but I didn’t let anyone know. After months of training came the testing (namely) embarkation for overseas duty. I’m still carrying a rifle. It was a hard time for everyone to say “Goodbye” especially to my Mother and girlfriend (incidentally we were engaged before leaving, something we felt was good for us).
We were now at sea, it wasn’t very kind to us men, most of whom had never been to sea before, and certainly none under such strain, soon men were lying around seasick so bad they didn’t feel the rain soaking their clothes. This lasted several days. Men then began to recover, plus the weather was more disposed towards us, the food also became more enticing. Thoughts of home and loved ones crowded my mind, I lost my watch during these episodes that was presented as a farewell gift, it made me realize that life ahead would not be easy. It took six weeks travelling by way of Cape Hope before we reached England. After some delay we were given four days’ leave (shore leave) to London, it wasn’t very inspiring as the weather was freezing cold, fog sometimes blocking the sight of everything, the Policeman on duty even could not find our Australian Headquarters. After the four days leave we were back to the troop ship, where a surprise awaited us. Men were going over to France immediately, only four from our company, I was one of the four. Could this be something for me? Was this my opportunity coming? But still carrying a rifle etc., though still quietly confident that somehow my belief in my mission would work out. To Pray was very hard with so much happening, but Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire, uttered or unexpressed, it was so with me. The weather was still freezing, the worst for fifty years we were to learn later. Snow covered everything, trees covered made quite a grand sight, especially to those of us who had never seen snow country. As I trudged along the road, reality of everything was beginning to prove itself to me in no uncertain manner. In the distance the sound of gunfire, plus a red glow over the horizon made real what warfare was going to be for us; more so as we marched along the road where desolation and ruin on either side made an awful picture into which we were entering. Arriving at the front area we marched to our Battalion HQ and then to our allotted Platoon. Still carrying a rifle, but still determined to prove I had enlisted to do a certain task. Off I went to interview the officer in charge of our company and told my story to him about being a stretcher bearer. He wasn’t very interested at first, but said there wasn’t any vacancy at the moment, saying he would remember my request. Into the front line trenches and I’m still carrying. I thought what would my mother say if she saw me now? My position was next to the stretcher bearer, we hadn’t been long in the trench before a shell burst, flinging pieces of metal along our trench position. Not thinking anyone had been hit, but suddenly, the head of the stretcher bearer fell on my shoulder as if he was saying, “Take over from me,” being so dark could not see how badly hit he was, but knew by his attitude he was seriously hurt. Here was my answer to Prayer, and faith put to the test was to be answered, away went my rifle for exchange for a stretcher, here I was just where I first felt Jesus would have me be, and for what I had enlisted to do. Was it just a coincidence that earlier I was one of four sent to France, and was it so evident that I should have been placed next to a stretcher bearer? What a stimulant this was for me after nine months. The platoon was put into various posies, but the spot my mate and I were allotted somehow wasn’t for us, a voice seemed to say, “move away from here and go to another spot,” so off we went, just in time to see the spot we had just vacated blown to pieces. The place we moved to survived during several attacks and was still intact when we finally captured it from the enemy. My mate was so impressed he said “let me stay with you, it seems safe.” The whole country that had been covered with snow began to look a real mud bath as the thaw made itself a real menace. It was even difficult to move and, what with the severe cold, men became very sick and men died because of the terrible conditions, and not from enemy activities. It was impossible for men to use their rifles, as they had no way of keeping them ready to use because everything was plastered with mud, almost impossible to move out of the trench without sinking several inches into slime. It wasn’t the enemy causing causalities but the terrible conditions, often times men refused to move out to get their rations, preferring to suffer hunger. As far as one could see it was just a sea of slime, not a living thing nor even a tree stump, a whole countryside a huge waste. Several weeks in these conditions and then happily we were relieved and moved back to reserve. Route marches were the order of the day to help keep fit as was humanly possible. A new enemy appeared, namely lice, millions of them put into the trenches and forward lines by the enemy for the purpose of depleting the men’s fitness, and undermine their morale. It was easy to take a handful of the lice from any wrinkle where they could obtain some warmth from the men’s clothing. In the reserve camp it was discomfort at its worst, trying to sleep at night. Occasionally, when out of the front lines, men were taken for a hot shower and receive a change of clothing; when these clothes were stacked in a huge heap it could be seen breathing, so great was the number. On these occasions, after marching about eight miles, the warmth of the men’s bodies would hatch the eggs; it seemed hardly worth the effort but at least we had a hot shower. Maybe the enemy had to contend with the same vermin getting out of control. We had many route marches each morning, the sole purpose being to get the men’s feet warm. Back into the trenches for a while then back again to reserve, this continued for some time, men were getting sores on their heels, others had trench feet (the toes would almost rot off -- terrible to see). Men would march with unlaced boots, unable to lace their boots because the sores were oozing pus. A good thing the ambulances were handy to collect casualties. Now my first setback; septic poisoning set in. I was rushed to Hospital, the weather being so cold they wrapped my feet and legs in cotton wool to keep them warm. Now a trip for Hospital in England, so glad to reach my destination after several days and nights of travel. The poison had extended throughout my body, settling in the throat, thus making an early operation very urgent. Operation over, I bled profusely, filling a kidney bowl as often as it was brought to me. I can still fancy in my mind how at 3:00 AM, two sisters and the Dr. standing at the foot of my bed, saying they could not believe I was still alive; little did they know of the wonderful feeling of safety that was mine. Even though they were so puzzled, I was safe in His Hands. Liquid only until my throat healed. How thankful I was for the great kindness shown to me. Later discharged from Hospital, but because of my weak condition I was sent to a convalescent home, where I was given plenty of food (food rationing notwithstanding). It proved a real good build up. Several weeks and playing sport; tennis and cricket (everything provided) shoes, racket etc., plus refreshments, the weather was very warm and a nice cool drink greatly appreciated. All good things come to an end. We were all sorry to leave such kind folk. One of the Aussie patients had a sister working in a nearby factory and they made arrangements for two of us to play tennis on the firm’s courts, six if I remember. The club held a tournament at the end of season and we were asked to play a mate from Tasmania. We eventually won (good for us) as we were the honoured guests at the party later in the evening. On the Sunday I went to the nearby church still dressed in those clothes (had no others). It so happened at the close of the Service a lady came up to me and said, “I notice you are an Australian in hospital clothes” then asked me how long before my discharge from hospital. I answered, “Within a week,” and to my surprise, she then said that if I had nowhere to go while on Sick Leave (14 days) she would be glad for me to stay at her home. I accepted her kind offer and what a good thing it turned out (a real home away from home), when on future leave it was home. Welsh people, name Roberts, had a large drapery store, plus a two story home. Quite a sensation for everyone soon after I had settled in, maybe it was good for me (a man in the house). A German air raid over London and he dropped a bomb fair and square on the school, the cries of the children and screaming of mothers as they ran toward the school. How sickening is war, man’s inhumanity to man makes countless people mourn. After fourteen days sick leave, posted back to France, my mate I previously played tennis with was killed on the way back to the front, a shell burst quite close to the road and he received a fatal hit. After a dull period in the forward area and the weather now warmer, preparations for an offensive were well underway. Come the day for attack, our men went out of the trench to an advance trench ready for the attack and waited for the signal next morning 6:00 AM, but the enemy somehow had news of it and started to shell, so back to the old trench for twenty-four hours. Sure enough the attack came 6:00 AM, one shell as a signal, and then everything was in turmoil, shells screamed overhead, we could not know if they were ours or the enemy’s shells. Seven of us in a shell hold taking cover, me with a stretcher, when bang, a shell burst in the shell hold, killing all six and throwing me out on top of the hole, plus a broken stretcher, an awful sight and a terrible shock losing mates so suddenly under such conditions. After getting another stretcher and another mate, we carried all day and night until next day. I was feeling a pain in my leg and decided to see the Dr., when he saw me said, “you had better have a few days in a rest camp.” Just a few days and back to the front line. During my stay, the chap in the next bed was a West Indian, but I soon found he was a Christian, while white soldiers were standing around swearing etc. and making fun of him being black, he was saying how sad it made him feel to hear such language. He and I made good pals, I was able to help him in some ways especially to encourage him to strive and continue to live as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. It was indeed a great test for anyone in such environment. Back to the front line again, it was just wonderful how I found my way carrying wounded in the dark, more so when I was leading because no-one could be less able to find his destination, especially at night, no street lights etc. to light the way, only the red glow from gunfire over the horizon. What made it so possible I was sure of being led, these words ever going through my mind, “This is the way, walk ye in it.” The more I carried wounded men the more I was becoming very conscious of my dependence upon God’s help. Soon I was to experience one of my great moments as a stretcher bearer. It happened this way. Our company had been in the front quite a long time and were on our way back to reserve, we camped behind a ridge for protection, but it wasn’t long enough for all the men to have shelter, one man and myself with a stretcher were in such a position, having no shelter from enemy fire. It was bitterly cold, the wind adding to our discomfort, we had just begun getting used to our position when a whiz bang (a small shell that travels like a bullet and hits before it can be heard coming) burst in front of us. My mate was terribly wounded, he was shivering with the cold, plus shock, plus wounds. In a flash I took off my great coat and put it around him, to my amazement I felt so much warmer without my coat. We stayed all night until help came to carry him back to First Aid Post. This episode has been with me all through the years, so sure that the Lord kept me warm without my great coat. A sure answer that “all things are possible if only we believe in God,” and that He is indeed a refuge in time of trouble. It was and still is one of the great experiences of my Christian life. We had been in the front line for several days and were on our way back to reserve, my mate said to me, (we had just returned from carrying a wounded man about a mile), “Hope we do not have any work tonight,” and curled beneath his blanket for a well earned rest, it was not to be, for after only a short rest, a gas bomb burst in the corner of our dugout, filling the air with gas fumes, and burying our gas masks, making them useless. It made a mess of our section, a large number gassed, including me. I could hear men calling my name for help, but it was me this time needing help. It was morning before I reached First Aid Post, having to almost crawl most of the way, and in the dark. From First Aid to the Base Hospital, then across to England, off then to another hospital in the north of England, it was a week from first being gassed until finally reaching destination. By then the worst was over (good for me, a non smoker) but after awhile I went suddenly blind, rushed to various doctors, but to no avail. Because we had been a long time in the front line, letters had accumulated (thirty four of them) and couldn’t read any of them myself, the sister kindly offered to read them to me while sitting on my bed, so glad to hear from home, even though I couldn’t read them myself. After awhile my sight returned nearly as quickly as it had gone. How thankful I was to see again. Back again to France (my third trip) and again to witness God’s care, and gave me a wonderful experience; it was this way. We were told by the relieving men to keep our heads down as the enemy wasn’t far away, but after a few quiet days and nights, word came from company HQ for a patrol to scout for any news. The Corporal came along the trench and said to me, “What a night for murder,” and then said that he and several others were detailed for the job. They had hardly reached the top of our trench before enemy machine gunners opened fire; quicker than it takes to record it, all were either killed or wounded. The Corporal was terribly wounded (he was one who enlisted the same day as I had). Calls came for help; without any thought of being hit I hopped to the top of the trench and placed the stretcher for the Corporal to be placed on it. Bullets were screaming around the ears, I could feel their nearness as they whistled passed, somehow it seemed someone was saying, “Be not afraid, I am with you.” I would certainly have been scared but for being conscious of “God’s Presence.” The trench wasn’t wide enough for the stretcher so had to walk along the top of the trench for about one quarter of a mile to First Aid Post. It seemed the bullets were angry missing their targets, quite an ordeal for someone just coming as reinforcements but he too felt safe. We moved out from this position to another more covered, sheets of iron over the top, then dirt on top of the iron, this gave us protection from flying shrapnel etc. over our heads. Good for us it was covered for we experienced an hour of fierce bombardment, the worst to date. The trench was shaped like a letter S, shells burst all along our trench but only one slightly injured. While the enemy bombarded I prayed for our safety, it seemed the only good thing I could do to help; when I found only one casualty, I thanked God for His protection. God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform, if only we would trust Him more, what wonders we would behold. What a strange place to meet for Prayer, out in No Man’s land, but that is where four of us met. In the distance the enemy lurked somewhere in trenches. It was so wonderful to experience so much calm as we stood together and surveyed the dark ominous country around us, then joined in Prayer, praying for courage and strength to meet any action we may be called upon to perform. What experiences awaited us. I’ve always cherished this occasion as it was the only time we met while in France, we left each other so sure of God’s care because we had faith. All came home safely but, to date, have not seen one another, having been scattered in different directions. The enemy had advanced so quickly he could not keep up with his supplies, this caused a halt to his advance. The town ahead of us was near enough for someone to go and look for extra food or clothing, we did not know if the enemy would advance and take control of everything, so we thought it wise to be first in, first served. To our pleasant surprise we found a lot of potatoes and blocks of fat, so we set off making chips. After having fed ourselves, we made chips for the men back in the trench. The next day we went again into the town, but on this occasion the enemy, having noticed smoke rising from the chimney, started shelling and machine gunning the street. It did not take long to leave everything behind and run for home, fortunately without incident. We stayed in these trenches until the great offensive came. This time it was our assault. What a show of force? At a given signal, it seemed that every gun ever made was being fired at the same time. The way for our men to attack was now open, so demoralized was the enemy that, after a short battle, he retreated. The enemy was now on top of the ground and in the open without any cover, before he enjoyed being in dug outs underground (sometimes 60 feet below the surface). The position was now reversed and soon their morale collapsed; from then on the enemy retreated so fast it was difficult to keep in touch. Finally we did not encounter him again. We were taken back from the front to a village in Belgium, where we billeted. While here the Armistice was declared, though we could still hear gunfire and bombs exploding. This made us uncertain as to whether the war was over. The farm folk cried with joy when they heard the good news, not knowing if their menfolk were still alive. These people had been so good to us we thought it good to give them a party before we left. In due time it was decided to get all the extras for a roast dinner from Headquarters, something most of us hadn’t enjoyed since leaving Australia. The company cooks did a great job, and everyone made happy at least for a little time. When we left, after ninety days waiting for news of any movement, the mother cried, we too felt sorry for her and so hoped that the homecoming of her husband and son would not be long delayed. To get such a number of men home meant a lot of work and plenty of thought, naturally the men who were Anzacs were the first to leave. Sad to relate a number of these men were killed while waiting on the station for the train to take them to port somewhere to embark for home (a bomb exploded). Strange after seeing through the war to be killed in such a way. Men would be better doing something to pass the time away, so plans were made to have various lectures on subjects. Poultry business being my pet subject, I was given the task. Fortunately for me at the same time a similar position was vacant in England, while men waiting embarkation for Australia, I was chosen and so pleased as it made my home going earlier than otherwise. This was my third and last trip from France, two other trips were hospital. Holding classes on the transport ship was very interesting, plus passed the time very pleasantly. The weather was getting warmer as we approached the Suez Canal, and I was glad to have a fan over my desk while writing memoirs of the trip. Writing fifty pages was to be a sad experience, as it was lost (stolen) on arrival in Australia. I caused quite a commotion among my mates who had noticed I had spent so much time and thought in compiling the script. When at last the Southern Cross was noticed, everyone seemed to be on one side of the troop ship, anxious to get a glimpse, for it meant nearing home and loved ones. A rumour that quarantine was to be enforced for a number of days caused much unrest and disappointment. This proved only a rumour and soon we were to go ashore. What a homecoming for so many. Sad indeed for those who had no-one to welcome home. I could hardly believe we were at last back in Australia.
For us it was indeed “Home sweet home.” For me the end of a wonderful experience.
C. C. Dolman
P.S. Please excuse any mistakes.
