Dedication by Tim Lycett

Memories

My first recollections of the writer of these diaries are now only fragments, a captain's chair in the dimly lit kitchen, dark stained timber panel walls, the smell of fresh tobacco, back yard apple trees, and an atmosphere of a bygone era.

Recently I had the opportunity to return to Jacka Street, Essendon, and even though I was unable to recall the house or its position in the street, the familiar surroundings took me back to my childhood. I can visualize the tall, frail grey haired man with a hearing aid who lived in this street who periodically arrived at our house in a taxi and myself waiting expectantly for the dollar note and the bag of sweets that was always forthcoming.

These are but a couple of the too few snippets that comprise my only memories of my grandfather in his world.

When I was five years old my grandfather came to live with us and lived out his days in a flat added on to our house for him. It was here that he made the greatest impression on me. The flat was modern for its time yet my grandfather managed to bring a piece of the old world with him. I remember the "spinning ash tray", the ANZAC medal and other knick-knacks, but most vividly I remember regularly gazing for what seemed like hours into a small frame containing an old hand painted photograph of a young man in uniform. Then one day I finally asked who he was and the reply came quietly and with a note of sadness,

"That was my brother Fred, your great uncle, who was killed during the Great War, many years ago now."

It was then that my interest was aroused and although too young to really comprehend, I sat and listened in wonder to stories from the past, of people long gone and times disappeared. In the two decades since my grandfather's death I have on many occasions lamented the fact that I was so young for I now know that my grandfather was that living link with history, that wealth of first hand knowledge that I search for even today.

The final memories I have of my grandfather begin in the local primary school ground during lunch hour. I can even now see the ambulance turn out of my street and travel slowly past the school and I can remember a feeling of unease and a sense of knowing that somehow my life was going to be affected. Finally I can still picture my grandfather lying in his hospital bed on my only visit, holding his hand but not knowing what to say, and consequently not saying a word.

There have been numerous people in my life who have influenced me but there is a special place for "Pa" for it was he who inspired in me the passion for times long past and the knowledge that they must be neither forgotten nor dismissed as irrelevant.

I am sure that in times to come when perhaps we meet again in some new world, the first greeting will simply be,

"Good morning if you use Pear's soap".

Tim Lycett.

About the writer:

William Dalton Lycett was born in Middlesborough in the County of Durham on 28th November, 1890, the eldest son of Harry (b. 7.3.1869) and his wife, Mary Hannah Dalton (b. 8.12.1872). By 1908 the family had grown to six boys - Will, Harold, Harry, Fred, Cliff and Frank and the youngest child, Dorothy. The family moved frequently in the Middlesborough-Hartlepool area and eventually returned to Crewe in Cheshire where Harry's family lived. Here Will and his father worked in the Railway Workshops where Will served his apprenticeship as a boilermaker. As the diaries testify he also had a wide circle of friends here and took an active part in Church and musical activities.

In 1910 the family migrated to Melbourne and for some time Will was very lonely until he became a member of the Burns Club. Here he played soccer and became a member of the Victorian Soccer Team, and here also he met his Daisy (Daisy Gertrude Hill, b. 24.1.1891).

When war broke out he enlisted, on 12th September 1914, and was sent to Broadmeadows Army Camp. His diaries tell the story of his war, and inadvertently, much of himself. What they do not tell is the story of the women at home, his Mam who at one time had her husband and four sons in France and knew the grief of losing a son, and Daisy, whose fiance and two brothers were there. Her brother Vic also never returned. It is cause for regret that none of those letters written and received during the four year period have survived, they would surely have completed the picture.

After his return to Australia, on 31st March 1919 he and Dais’ were married and eventually lived most of their lives together in Essendon in close proximity to Will's parents and the families of his brothers and sister. He worked at the Railway Workshops at Newport, and was deeply involved in Freemasonry, but his health was consistently poor as a result of his war experiences, and he was never again the cheerful, sociable young man who went away.

Will and Daisy raised two children, Evelyn born in 1923 and Bill in 1931. Some time after Daisy's death in 1964 he went to live with his son's family and became a great mate of his youngest grandson, Tim, who listened by the hour to his Pa's stories of Gallipoli and France. These tales engendered a great interest in the history and events of the First World War and it is Tim who now owns the diaries and has initiated this transcription.

Will died on 5th April, 1975, and despite living in Australia for 65 years still cheered for the English cricket team and was always an English gentle man.