During World War I, some Australian soldiers returned home with children from the areas they had served in. Children, under a Parliamentary Act, could be adopted by a soldier, married or otherwise. Typically known as unit mascots or boy soldiers, period newspapers gave some coverage, but their lives often went unrecorded. An exception is the boy from the Middle East who was brought to Collinsvale in 1919 by a returning Tasmanian soldier.
The boy’s name was Boutrus Souss, but he was known as Peter. He was born in 1906 in Lebanon of an English father and French mother. His mother died in 1909.
Five years later the war broke out and Peter’s father, still in Lebanon, spied for the Allies. With the outbreak of the war, Peter was sent to a college in Tripoli. In 1917 he was one of 15 survivors after the school was bombed; this also being the last year he saw his father.
Peter was 11 years old, orphaned, homeless and suffering from hunger and malaria. He wandered between the cities of Tripoli and Aleppo, and one day met some members of the Australian Imperial Force Light Horsemen.
What follows is condensed from Peter’s autobiography, written in the 1950s but covering only the period from 1918 to the mid 1920s, recounting his experiences of the best and worst of human behaviour.
“I came across the Australian 12th Light Horse and heard the sweetest words, ‘The poor little bastard.’ They fed me, gave me medical attention and for the next few months I went along with the soldiers. The Turks were in full retreat and after one battle a soldier had a cut on his hand, and from my first aid kit I was able to give him a bandage. He grabbed a handful of my hair, pulled my head back and said, ‘Your name is Peter.’ I asked him how he knew my name and he explained how he had met my father who gave him a photo of me and my sister, and asked him to do what he could to help us.
“That was the last time I saw that soldier for nearly five months. During this time I became the ‘purchasing officer’ for the 12th Light Horse as I could speak English and Arabic. I was nicknamed ‘Bootlace’ because of my habit of picking up bootlaces and plaiting belts from them. When the Turks had been completely driven out of Syria, the 12th Light Horse together with the 6th Light Horse returned to a place outside Tripoli and camped for nearly three months. I worked with the cook and he used to take me with him to do the purchasing. What we couldn’t buy, we took.
“When the order came through to return to Australia a very sad, heart-breaking order was issued that all the horses had to be shot by the soldiers. It took place in an olive grove and when the locals found out what was happening they descended on the site. They skinned and cut up the horses as fast as they were killed.
“The soldiers were instructed to go to Beirut so we travelled there by road and set up alongside an Indian encampment. They were Lancers made up of very rich Indians. During the Ramadan celebrations the Aussies raided the Indian camp at night and gathered all the jewels they could lay their hands on. They buried the whole haul under my tent. All hell broke loose and the Aussie camp was searched, but I was put to bed and my tent was not searched.
“Next morning an order was issued for immediate embarkation for Egypt. We were to leave at 10am and I was carried on board in a chaff bag. The sailing was delayed another eight hours so I was carried off in the same chaff bag. When sailing time arrived at about 6pm, it was dark so I walked on the ship without challenge from the sentry, as he was one of the Light Horsemen.
“We landed at Moascar camp not far from Port Said. One night during the camp picture show, an order was issued that every soldier was to go to Cairo by train immediately, as there was a serious threat of a revolution for home rule by the Egyptians. When the uprising had subsided, the 6th and 12th Light Horse units were ordered to leave for Australia and I found myself absolutely stranded and friendless, when, in the main street of Cairo, the soldier I had met with the photo, came up and hugged me. He told me that he had been searching for me everywhere. He was going to be in the last unit to leave Egypt for Australia.
“I joined him at the Barracks in Cairo, occupied by Australian and English units. The Aussie troops had an undeniable dislike for the British officers and when protocol demanded that they be greeted with a salute, they would quickly cross to the other side of the street when they saw an English officer coming. But, if they saw him in company with a lady they would line up at about 10 feet apart and one by one salute so that the officer was compelled to return the salutes.
“I arrived in Australia as an AIF mascot in September 1919 on the troopship Delta and was disembarked in Melbourne. My papers were marked ‘Good for Australia’ and my name was now Peter Andrew Suez, as the soldiers thought that my Arabic name was too long and named me after the famous canal. I was in the care of James Williams who had an agreement with Roy (Darby) Leppard of Tasmania to be my guardian until I turned 21. I was also offered adoption by Colonel Bisdee, a very wealthy grazer from Tasmania with no children. I declined because, in my own simple way, I thought I owed a debt of gratitude to Mr Leppard as he was the man that had been in contact with my father and was very determined to bring me to Australia.
“The time arrived for our departure to Tasmania. When the arrangement was finalised between Williams and Leppard I was given the name Peter Andrew Leppard. I was sent to school in Collinsvale and the headmaster was Major Anderson, a great man.
“On the eve of entering school I was told by Darby Leppard not to fight with anybody or misbehave, or he would belt the living daylights out of me. The first day at school I was punched by every boy and all the girls called me a coward. I told my guardian what had taken place and he told me not to start fights, go back to school and fight my own battles. The next day I went up to the biggest bully and knocked him down. The headmaster rebuked me, but at the same time said the bully deserved it.”
. . .
While in Collinsvale, Peter was cared for by Jane Leppard, Darby’s mother, and typical for the times was given arduous chores before and after school, to earn his keep. After completing his schooling, he laboured for two years, but was treated unfairly by Leppard’s estranged wife and left for NSW with just ‘ten shillings’ in his pocket. He changed his surname to Stradbrook, married, raised a family of five, and through hard work became a respected businessman. In 1975, 21 years before to his death, he was reunited with his long-lost sister. His youngest son, also named Peter, proudly recalled that his father loved his adopted country and supported many in a charitable way, including Darby Leppard.
When the autobiography was first read there were some doubts, as there was no record of a boy soldier in the Light Horse. But after researching unit War Diaries, embarkation rolls, and period newspapers, the account was proven accurate. Gwen Appeldorff, now in her 99th year, is probably the last living person who met Peter in Collinsvale, and then in Sydney during the late 1930s. She also knew Jane and Darby Leppard, and confirmed what it would have been like for the boy in Collinsvale.
The research also found the link between Bisdee, Williams and Leppard. They had served in the Light Horse and later, J.H. Bisdee became the Commanding Officer of the Egyptian Section of the Australian Provost Corps. Williams and Leppard were two acting Corporals in his unit. James Nepean Williams, a single soldier, legally adopted Peter Suez, under the Australian Soldiers’ Repatriation Act (Number 15 of 1918). Colonel Bisdee VC would have signed off on the adoption and this is why he knew about it.
Before travelling to his home in Sydney, Williams handed the boy over to Leppard, whom never formally adopted him. Why then did Leppard not do the adoption instead of Williams, before embarkation? The answer is probably connected with Leppard’s many disciplinary infringements, including jumping ship and later re-enlisting under a false name.
Darby Leppard was a hard, rough man, but his compassion saved the life of a young boy who went on to become a successful Australian.
Gary Barker is a retired military engineer and academic, living on King Island. He has written two books on Tasmanian topics, Lunnicks Steam Powered Contractors (2009) and Paid Wet and Dry - 101 Memories of Tasmania's Public Works System (2012), plus several articles for Engineering Heritage Tasmania and the National Trust in Launceston.