The Story of James Selwyn Stewart, DCM (OGC 1907)

Who knows what emotions our ANZACs would have felt in the days leading up to the landing, waiting at sea to board the small boats that would deliver them ashore in the pre-dawn darkness on a Sunday morning. Some would have been excited, some uncertain, but all would have felt fear – a fear of the enemy, a fear of the unknown, or a fear of their ability to perform and not let themselves or their mates down. For many, the fear would have been almost overwhelming. But somehow, they all managed to confront those fears and together, they landed at Gallipoli at the start of a long campaign.

Amongst those to wade ashore on that first morning at Gallipoli was 24-year-old James Selwyn Stewart. Just like you and me, James was a student here at The Geelong College. His family lived in Branxholme in Western Victoria.

James landed at Gallipoli on the first day. As an infantry soldier in the 4th Brigade, he would have seen heavy fighting as our ANZACs struggled with the steep terrain, enemy attacks, and a lack of rest and respite. Jack fought at Gallipoli for more than three months before being wounded and invalided to Egypt. Remarkably, he returned to join his battalion at Gallipoli once he had recovered and remained with them until the ANZACs withdrew from the Peninsula in December.

Not long after the ANZACs withdrew from Gallipoli, James and his team arrived in the trenches of the Western Front in France. Joined by new recruits, the same fears that they had felt the night before the Gallipoli landings must have been pervasive. Questions of the unknown, but a growing reassurance gained through confidence in themselves and in each other.

By this time, James had been promoted to Sergeant – a leadership role where he would have led from the front and carried the enormous responsibility of caring for each one of those he led. It was in this role that James was tasked to defend a forward outpost at Mouquet Farm with only 15 men in August 1916. Under relentless enemy attack, how isolated that platoon must have felt from the rest of their battalion in the ‘front line’ to their rear; but how confident they must have felt serving together, each supporting one another and determined to bring their very best to the challenge.

For his leadership under these extreme conditions, James was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal. The citation of his award paints a picture of the ANZACs repelling successive enemy counterattacks over two nights, with enemy patrols endeavouring to capture his strong point.

The official citation goes on to record that ‘only by his personal courage and coolness was he able to hold his ground against greatly superior odds on each occasion. He is one of the original Battalion formed in Australia in 1914. He was severely wounded in the last enemy attack on his post on the morning of

29 August, just prior to the post being relieved by the 16th Battalion.’

As I contemplate the story of James and our ANZACs, one of the characteristics that always stands out amongst the stories of courage and mateship, is that of resilience.

What is it that enables people like James and others, to overcome their fears and lead, time and time again? To accept that life isn’t always fair and that things don’t always turn out as planned.

From the decision to return to Gallipoli after being invalided in 1915, to his successive demonstrations of leadership on the Western Front after experiencing such tragic losses at Gallipoli, something enabled James to ‘bounce back’ and thrive on this night at Mouquet Farm – despite being wounded in the process. What is it that enabled him to pick himself up, and move forward, and is that unique to him? I don’t think so, and I think it is a legacy from which we can all learn.

As a student at The Geelong College, James would have sat here during classes, or during an assembly, or during a discussion with a friend, contemplating the ‘person that would be’ in the life that lay ahead.

During that battle at Mouquet Farm James was severely wounded, and his left leg was amputated. This is clearly not something that James would have contemplated while here at the College, but something in his preparation led him to be the person to respond as he did.

Despite his wounds, both seen and unseen, James demonstrated the resilience to live a fulsome life until his death in 1945.

It is the words delivered in his Eulogy that perhaps bear greatest testament to this, and they were:

James was ‘A man of the highest integrity, he was universally esteemed and was known as one with the courage of his convictions, though at all times respecting the opinions of his fellows, in whose welfare he was always concerned. If a person was “down”, Selwyn was the first to the rescue, and many a Christian charitable act, of which, however, he was never heard to boast, stands to his credit.

If we can learn from the deeds and actions of others, then surely the deeds and actions of James Selwyn Stewart, and recent ANZACs like Mark Donaldson and the Patrol Mechanic are worthy reflections of the qualities to which we might aspire. A care for and willingness to help others, a respectful courage of one’s convictions, a preparedness to lead and a resilience that equips us all for the road ahead. For that, we owe our ANZAC heritage a debt of gratitude. Lest we forget.