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THE GREAT LANGWARRIN BREAKOUT
By Lance Hodgins
OnTuesday 19 October 1915, Private J Morbey was on sentry duty along the barbed wire fence which enclosed the compound of the Langwarrin army camp. In the twilight he could just make out his mate at the next post and gave him a thumbs up.
Without warning, a group of men rushed a point in the fence near him and tried to get through. Morbey yelled out to them that they could not do it but they threw their great-coats over the tangled wire and continued to scramble over. And then all hell broke loose. It seemed like a hundred men suddenly appeared from the shadows, pushed through the fence, and disappeared into the scrub beyond.
The sentry on the neighbouring post, Private J Corbett, saw the first small group dash across the compound and called out to them, “Stop! You are disobeying orders! Stop at once!”
He ran to the scene and managed to seize three of them, but was brushed aside by the following mob and they tore free of him.
Months earlier, the camp guards had been ordered “shoot to kill” anyone who tried to escape. Back then, Langwarrin was an internment camp for enemy aliens – Germans, Italians and Turks arrested in the early days of the Great War.
Now the inmates were Aussie soldiers – 800 of them suffering from gonorrhoea and syphilis. They were under orders not to leave the compound, and the sentries had been simply told to “not allow it”. The escapees were liable for imprisonment for two years for disobeying military orders.
News of the breakout was wired to Melbourne and armed military personnel went to Caulfield and waited for the late train from Frankston. As it pulled into the station at 11.23pm, it was surrounded and 18 escapees were ordered off. There was a good amount of rowdiness and a few troublemakers had to be handcuffed.
Under guard, the prisoners arrived at Flinders Street station after midnight and were marched to Victoria Barracks. One abusive man had begged that his handcuffs be removed when he was brought to Flinders St station, saying that he would go quietly. When he reached St Kilda Road he broke from the group and fled towards Richmond. Guards pursued him on the Yarra Bank Road and wrestled him to the ground.
The following day, the men faced a court-martial at Victoria Barracks. Some bore marks of the conflict; two had black eyes. Fifteen of them were brought forward in a body and each individually pleaded guilty of having broken out of camp in defiance of orders. When asked if they wished to comment, none did.
The prosecutor, Major McInerney, stressed the seriousness of the offence. The men were in service, had disobeyed orders and deserved severe punishment.
The three others were then brought forward and charged with having resisted arrest. One of them had been looking for a fight at Caulfield, another had used obscene language, and the third had tried to escape at Flinders Street.
These three were removed to the guardroom under escort whilst the other detainees were returned to Langwarrin to await their sentencing. The Court announced that its decision would be sent to the Acting State Commandant, Colonel Williams, and then be delivered to the Camp.
The Search is on
In the meantime the civil police and the military authorities were busy searching for the others, who had probably reached Melbourne on an earlier train and were likely still in the city.
On the day following the breakout, two men were arrested at Richmond, but there were no more. Two days later, a notice appeared in the daily papers which called on the escapees to report in or face the consequences:
The press announcement drew a quick response - twenty men immediately handed themselves in. Nevertheless, there were still forty at large, and the weekend brought only a few more submissions and a handful of arrests in the city. A second courtmartial was hastily arranged.
After a week, there were still 25 men missing and it became clear to the authorities that it would be some time before they were all accounted for. As an example, a month later, a drunken soldier was arrested hanging from a lamp post in the city and haranguing ladies who passed by. When arrested, he proudly announced that he was a Langwarrin escapee.
Colonel Williams visited the camp to announce the result of the court martial. The three troublemakers each received 100 days with hard labour to be served in Pentridge Prison.
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The other fifteen received 90 days imprisonment with hard labour, but Williams took the opportunity to have a straight talk with the men. He would suspend all sentences on condition that they would behave themselves and help to maintain good order at the camp. There would be a new commandant, Major W. W. Hope, who would impose stricter supervision and severely deal with any further insubordination.
All of this fell on deaf ears. Four weeks later twenty men broke camp and created a disturbance in Somerville. After billiards at the local hotel, they descended on the town’s wine bar where they were refused service. At this, they took over the bar, smashed bottles, fought amongst themselves, and threw articles of furniture into the street. The proprietor’s daughter, Miss Holmes, could not control them and when a local soldier, home on sick leave from Gallipoli, came to her aid he received a nasty mauling from the mob.
Two officers were suspended and the twenty men who broke bounds were each sentenced by a military court martial to 100 days imprisonment and removed immediately to Pentridge.
From Trainees to Enemy Aliens to Untouchables
Williams, the State Commandant, continued to be unhappy with the Langwarrin situation.
Every Easter for twenty years, the remote rural property 30 miles southeast of Melbourne had been used by the volunteer State militias for military manoeuvres. When World War 1 broke out, it became the site for an internment camp for “enemy aliens”.
In March of 1915, the Camp received its first VD-infected soldiers - from Victoria’s main training camp at Broadmeadows. And then, with mobilisation overseas, numbers had risen dramatically. It was army policy that every man with VD was returned to Australia – and there were great fears of the virulent form of the infection coming out of Egypt.
A desperate deal was struck. If Victoria would undertake their housing and treatment, the Defence Department would guarantee they would not escape. The internment prison seemed well-suited to the purpose: a barbed wire enclosure, a couple of hundred militia guards, floodlit boundaries, bushland surroundings, and a degree of remoteness. Life for the inmates would be as grim and secure as in any military prison.
On his visit, Williams was appalled by the squalid misery he found. Eight hundred men were confined in a small compound surrounded by wire entanglements, such as would be used to hold prisoners of war near the front. Around the camp were men armed with rifles to keep these “wretches” under control.
He found not one atom of comfort in the whole place; it was filthy beyond words. The tents were ragged and dilapidated and men slept on the ground underneath sodden bedding. They wandered around in shreds of clothing. There was no local supply of water and the men rarely showered. Their medical treatment was inadequate.
These sick men were being treated as pariahs. According to the Army Act it was not a criminal offence to have VD - but it certainly was one to hide it. Yet the attitude of the army effectively criminalised it. The soldier had his record marked and when his pay was docked, his loved ones who were its recipients were immediately alerted to his condition.
The stigmatism was pervasive and the inmates were regarded as “untouchables”. Little wonder they were disgruntled, spiteful and insubordinate. And they continually broke camp.
He had come to Melbourne to teach at Melbourne Grammar and the war had broken out.
Now he was back in Melbourne and, over the next six months, everything he was asked to do by the Commandant he did remarkably well. The hardworking young soldier and Williams soon realised that their philosophies had much in common and they became close friends. Their discussions turned to the persistent problem of Langwarrin, where leadership had been unsuccessful.
The afflicted soldiers had returned from abroad “sick, broken and shamed”. Williams and Conder decided that a different approach was needed: they would restore them to health and respect by improving their treatment and environment. They would mend each man there, and send him away a wiser human being, a decent citizen and a better trained soldier than when he entered the camp. The “prison” would become a hospital and sanatorium.
Initially, Major Ivie Blezard and Lieutenant Walter Conder were sent to Langwarrin. Both officers had been carefully chosen: each man carried an arm in a sling – one his left and the other his right – earned at “The Landing” on Gallipoli. It was felt that their suffering would appeal to the men at the campand it did.
When Blezard was forced to return to Melbourne for further treatment to his arm, Walter Tasman Conder was put in charge. It was August 1916 and this new camp commandant, at 28 years of age, was being given the toughest military proposition in Australia at the time.
A new camp
Conder soon found that the old camp could not be adapted to his new ideas and philosophies, and he immediately set to work to build a new one, a short distance west of the original enclosure.
Solid, lined, and roomy huts (80 x 20 feet) were provided for not just hospital cases but sleeping quarters for all. Wells were sunk for an adequate supply of water and the Red Cross built a commodious bath house with a furnace and boiler to provide hot showers. This allowed a communal “irrigation” system in which 100 patients could be treated in ten minutes at the same time, which freed up medical staff for more needed activities.
The Red Cross also supplied medical instruments and apparatus that was previously lacking. The wards were provided with patient clothing, bed linen, special foods and special furniture. There was a well-equipped operating theatre, a dispensary and a dentist’s surgery.
The new camp was made more attractive. The buildings were painted and electric light installed. There were gardens and lawns, a recreation hall built by the YMCA, a Red Cross hall for entertainment and a rotunda. Church groups and racing clubs became on-side and donated chairs and tables, books, cupboards and billiard tables.
A band was formed - a Conder specialty - and it performed regularly in the community. There were picture shows and camp performances, often from visiting Melbourne stage shows and concert groups, with stage scenery painted by the patients. Sports were organised. Pets were encouraged and there were kangaroos, deer, swans and guinea pigs. The camp mascot was “Bonny” - a beautiful pony.
Eventually the guards were replaced by the patients themselves. Army regulations did not allow VD patients to be paid, so those who acted as orderlies and guards received five shillings per day, four of which were paid on their return to army duty.
The carrot vs. the stick
It was clear that, in a non-conscripted army like the AIF, the “carrot” was more likely to achieve results than the “stick”. Sympathy, encouragement and patience were the keywords of Conder’s new regime.
This humane attitude brought about a dramatic improvement in patient morale. Conder’s predecessor had been sacked in a scandal over gross breaches of inmate discipline. From 1916 to 1918, however, there was a remarkable decline in desertion (almost 100 down to nil), absenteeism (from 1,000 to 30) and punishable offences (from 1500 to 100).
It became very clear that the men who passed through the “new” camp were keen to please the young commandant who had, by sheer force of character, conquered their desires to make trouble for the authorities.
A triumph of science and sympathy over righteousness
The work of the medical staff added greatly to knowledge about VD. Traditionally, syphilis had been treated with injections of highly toxic arsenic and mercury compounds. These caused mouth ulcers, loss of teeth and kidney failure – and frequently death. There was no guarantee of being cured.
Gonorrhoea required daily irrigation injection of the urethra and bladder with a combination of powerful antiseptics, including silver and a toxic corrosive compound similar to phenol, which had to be retained in the body for several hours. This was messy, uncomfortable and embarrassing and lasted for up to seven weeks.
Best-practice medicine was under the control of chief medical officer, Major Charles Johnson, whose work there did honour to himself and his profession. His improved medical treatment brought fine results and VD treatment made huge advances during his time. Time to full recovery was significantly shortened to about three months, and the cost of drugs used in treatment was reduced by 75%. A dental officer was appointed to the camp and brought immediate results.
Over 7,000 VD sufferers passed through Langwarrin up to June 1920. 99% of them were released as cured, and more than 6,000 of them eventually returned to active military service overseas. Some served with distinction earning 400 military decorations for bravery, including two Victoria Crosses.
By 1920 Langwarrin was the only military hospital for the treatment of VD in Australia. On November 24 the Defence Department announced its official closure and sent the eight remaining inpatients back to their own states.
A conglomeration of debris
There was a maturing awareness of VD in the community and it was hoped that the remarkable experience gained at the camp would be extended to the treatment of non-soldiers. Even before the war was over, there were 25 civilians being treated there. The Defence Department, however, had made up its mind.
The 550-acre site was offered to Victoria as an isolation clinic. The price was £7,000 and it was estimated that 50 beds could be maintained there for £3,000pa. Victoria’s Premier Harry Lawson saw it as a good deal and was strongly supported by his Venereal Diseases Committee.
But the locals had other ideas. The Frankston and Hastings Council, supported by the Cranbourne Shire, sent a deputation to Lawson protesting that their people did not want a VD hospital in their midst. As a result, Premier Lawson set up a VD Clinic in Lonsdale Street and placed Langwarrin’s medical officer of four years, Charles Johnson, in charge.
The sale of the Camp infrastructure began immediately. First to go was the 70-foot long YMCA building. When six huts and blankets were sent to the new Morwell SEC settlement, the workers objected – showing that the stigma and ignorance surrounding VD still remained.
Conder organised two major gifts for Frankston. The Camp’s massive archway was erected over the entrance to the newly planted Avenue of Honour on the Point Nepean Road, and the symbolic band rotunda was installed opposite the Mechanics’ Institute.
By February 1921 buildings were being advertised for sale at the Camp every Saturday from 10am to 4pm. The Langwarrin Progress Association fought unsuccessfully to retain the large Red Cross Hall. They were, however, granted a lease on 21 acres opposite the railway station for sport and recreation and allowed to build a state-of-the-art Memorial Hall which was completed in time for Christmas 1929. The hall lasted fifteen years before it, too, was removed and sold. The sports field became overgrown.
The post-War years slipped by and the site remained unused by the army. Without a resident caretaker the camp became a place of dilapidated weatherboard and tin buildings described as a “conglomeration of debris.” Apart from a few wandering cattle it was otherwise deserted. The neglected site was a source of continual annoyance to the district as serious fires started there every summer and burned out neighbouring properties.
The Cranbourne Shire had long wanted this prime land next to the station to be used for settlement, but the Defence Department held firm: there was absolutely no prospect of the 500 acres being subdivided as it “might be needed in the future”.
That need was obviously not strong. During WW2 only a handful of troops from Balcombe used it for training and, over the next 25 years, it was used sparingly by army apprentices, the army reserve and cadets. Cranbourne Council repeatedly pressed for the land to be released for subdivision, even for returning soldiers, but to no avail.
Finally, in the early 1980s the site was taken over by the Victorian Ministry for Conservation and, on December 11 1985, it became the Langwarrin Flora and Fauna Reserve.
Today, there are few physical remnants of Langwarrin’s army camp. Perhaps it is the tranquility of the Reserve that is the legacy of Wally Conder’s remarkable achievement.
