A sign that has stood in a schoolyard in Villers-Bretonneux for more than 100 years reads, ‘Never forget the Australians’—a reference to the 11,000 Australian troops who fought and died on the battlefields of France in World War I in what Clive James memorably described as a ‘bitter harvest ... of our tallest poppies’.
In a moving speech delivered at Villers-Bretonneux in 2018, the then French Prime Minister Edouard Philippe paid tribute to the Australians who willingly risked and sacrificed their lives for the freedom of his homeland. He could not help thinking, he said, ‘of the terrible loneliness which these thousands of young Australians must have felt as their young lives were cut short in a foreign country … A far away country. A cold country whose earth had neither the colour nor texture of their native bush. A far away, foreign country which they defended inch by inch … As if it were their own country. And it is their own country.’
France’s adoption of the thousands of young Australian men buried in its soil is a testament not only to the strength of the bonds forged in times of war but also to the power of sacrificial love, its ability to connect us across the chasms of culture and self-interest that so often seem to divide us.
Army chaplain Fr Michael Bergin SJ was a man whose life and death exemplified just this kind of sacrificial, reconciling love—a love modelled on that of the Lord he served.
The men kitted Fr Bergin out in the uniform of a private in the Australian Imperial Force. When they sailed for Gallipoli, he went with them as a stretcher-bearer.
Born in 1879 in Roscrea, County Tipperary, Ireland, and educated at the Jesuit College in Mungret, Limerick, Bergin entered the novitiate at Tullabeg, before transferring to the Lyons Province of the Society of Jesus in France. From there, he travelled to Syria to continue his studies in philosophy. Keenly missing home, he threw himself into his missionary work, developing a strong connection with the local people and a deep interest in their culture and customs. Fluent in English, French and Arabic, Fr Bergin was drawn back to Syria after his ordination, taking charge of Jesuit schools near Damascus until the onset of World War I.
As the war escalated, and the Turkish authorities imprisoned and expelled foreign missionaries, Fr Bergin arrived in Cairo in early 1915, where he took up a position at the Holy Family College in Fagala. During this time, he befriended Catholic soldiers from the 27nd Light Horse Brigade, 5th Light Horse Regiment, becoming an unofficial Catholic chaplain for these Australian soldiers when he discovered they were without one.
As the brigade prepared for battle, he applied for an official chaplaincy with them. But when formal approval from the Church authorities in Melbourne was delayed because of the irregular circumstances—enlistments in the field were all but unheard of, and the Australian authorities knew virtually nothing of this Irish-born, Egyptian-based French Jesuit—the brigade took matters into their own hands. Though officially he was still a civilian, the men kitted Fr Bergin out in the uniform of a private in the Australian Imperial Force. When they sailed for Gallipoli, he went with them as a stretcher-bearer.
On 12 May 1915, just weeks after the initial Gallipoli campaign began and only days before his brigade marched out from Maadi, Fr Bergin was ‘taken on strength’ as a chaplain 4th class, enabling him to administer the sacraments and minister to the dying, although his official enlistment didn’t come through until 12 July.
In the trenches, Fr Bergin’s presence was a godsend. He ministered to soldiers—both the devout and those who had wandered away from the Church—heard confessions, said Mass on makeshift altars and provided the sacraments. His selfless dedication was recognised by those he served, including a soldier who declared, according to war historian CEW Bean’s own account, ‘If ever an angel walked among men, it was he.’
He loved Australians, he understood us, condoned our many faults and recognised our virtues.
Fr Bergin’s time at Gallipoli ended in September 1915 when he contracted enteric fever and was evacuated to Britain for treatment. While convalescing, he returned to Ireland for a visit, decked out in khaki, an emu feather in his slouch hat, much to the surprise and delight of his family and friends. By January 1916, he had returned to Egypt, resuming his chaplaincy work in hospitals before joining the 51st Battalion and moving to France in June 1916.
Fr Bergin’s ministry extended through some of the fiercest battles on the Western Front, including Pozières and the Hindenburg Line. Sharing intimately the hardships of the soldiers in his care, he was known for being ‘always at his post’, tirelessly supporting soldiers at aid stations and in the field. This unwavering commitment was noted by a non-Catholic officer who observed that Fr Bergin ‘was loved by every man in the Brigade’.
As one soldier recalled, Fr Bergin was both admired and feared by his flock, not hesitating to pull wayward soldiers into line each day after Mass. Describing how ‘the padre’s saint-like face’ would be transformed during these dressing downs, he said, ‘the chin was thrust forward, the blue eyes flamed as he singled out misdeed after misdeed committed by members of his flock during the last twenty-four hours [as the] men squirmed under the lash of his tongue.’ His affection and dedication to the men were never in doubt, though: ‘He loved Australians, he understood us, condoned our many faults and recognised our virtues.’
The priest, clad in white vestments, stood at his improvised altar invoking God’s blessing on his flock. All the while intermittent shells fell in the vicinity.
The Divisional Chaplain, Fr William Devine, described Fr Bergin as ‘Tall, spare, gaunt; he looked the typical Jesuit of anti-Catholic literature. We worked together in the same Division in Egypt and France until his death, and I have never known anyone to inspire such respect and admiration from such diverse characters: good men and bad, broad-minded and those without that reputation.’
Before the soldiers went into action, Fr Bergin would celebrate Mass and spiritually prepare the men for battle. A digger of 13th Brigade later described him as ‘one of the best’ of the AIF chaplains, writing that one of the most inspiring sights he had ever seen ‘was the celebration of the Mass on the slopes behind Albert by the Brigade Roman Catholic Padre just before the Brigade went into action. The priest, clad in white vestments, stood at his improvised altar invoking God’s blessing on his flock. All the while intermittent shells fell in the vicinity.’
On 11 October 1917, during the Battle of Passchendaele near Ypres, Belgium, Fr Bergin was attending to the wounded when a German shell struck near the aid post. Hit in the chest, he was killed instantly, according to at least one account, although he was not declared dead until the following day. He was 38 years old.
His loss was mourned by the entire brigade, Catholic and non-Catholic alike, his brigade commander describing him as ‘one of the bravest and best men’. He is buried in the village churchyard at Renninghelst, Belgium, where he had regularly celebrated Mass, and was posthumously awarded the Military Cross, his citation commending his ‘magnificent zeal and courage’.
He was beside them in the final, fearful hours before they gave their lives, and before he gave his own.
‘In the line or out, Padre Bergin is always to be found among his men,’ the citation reads, ‘helping them when in trouble and inspiring them with his noble example and never-failing cheerfulness.’
Fr Bergin was the only member of the Australian forces in World War I never to have set foot in Australia, and the only serving Catholic chaplain to have died as a result of enemy action. He was deeply admired by the thousands of Australian troops whom he encountered during his service, earning him a place on the Roll of Honour at the Australian War Memorial. Some of the War Memorial’s records even describe him as ‘of Melbourne, Vic’, though he never came here.
A relatively young man himself, far from his homeland, he walked beside other young men as they prepared themselves for the possibility of death on battlefields far from home. He was beside them in the final, fearful hours before they gave their lives, and before he gave his own. Though Gallipoli was the closest he ever came to Australian shores, Fr Bergin was one of our own.
Lest we forget.
