Fully updated 10 Aug 2024 in light of later developments: John Simpson Kirkpatrick (normally just known as "Simpson") is quite a well known figure in Australian history. Or at least he used to be; history teaching isn't quite what it once was.

After all, he's both white and male and if you believe some morons, that automatically makes him evil and overdue to be cancelled. But that said... this is one occasion where what seemed to be history, and was taught as such to generations of school children was in fact over-hyped. Not completely false, but not the legend that was promoted either.

Simpson was born in South Shields (near the river Tyne in the north east of England) in July 1892. One of eight children, he worked with donkeys as a child providing donkey rides to tourists (a skill that will come in useful in this story). In 1909 he joined the merchant marine. (It was later known as the "Merchant Navy" after WWI, but that was an honorific title, not a descriptive one, bestowed for its service during that war in keeping supply lines open despite the U-Boat menace. It was always a civilian registry, not a military one.) Simpson jumped ship in Newcastle, NSW in 1910.

When WWI started he enlisted using his middle name as his surname. This is sometimes assumed to be because of the way he went absent from the merchant marine. Maybe. The problem with that story is that you're employed by the merchant marine, but you don't enlist with them. You can just quit. It's possible that he was in breach of contract which could have exposed him to damages, but that's mere speculation and I don't think we'll ever know why he really chose to adopt an alias, nor does it much matter.

Similarly his reason for joining the Australian Army was to get him a ticket back to Blighty, as per a letter that he wrote to his mother on Christmas Eve 1914. It wasn't out of loyalty to Australia; he had been here for less than half a decade which is unlikely to engender enough patriotism to make one risk one's life for the place. Also some of his writings show him to be left wing / socialist to a very large extent. This doesn't go well with military discipline, nor does it make one wish to fight for King and Country. (Though it's worth noting that he chose an unarmed role to serve in.) But again, his motives probably aren't important.

The story runs as follows. Attached to the 3rd Australian Field Ambulance during the landings at Gallipoli on 25 April 1915 Simpson, ably assisted by his donkey, carried water up to the troops on the line and carried wounded men back. He was credited with carrying 300 men back to safety as well as charging into no man's land to rescue critically injured officers. One of his rescues is portrayed in this sculpture. "The man with the donkey", as he was known by many who knew of him but not his name, was fatally wounded by a shot through the heart on 19 May 1915.

OK, that's the legend. Part of that legend was that he should have been (or was) put up for a Victoria Cross award. but didn't get it because... bureaucracy, bias, whatever.

Since I shot and wrote the original description of this photo, the Defence Honours and Awards Appeal Tribunal conducted an inquiry in 2013 titled Inquiry into unresolved recognition for past acts of naval and military gallantry and valour. In that, they considered the merits of the case for awarding Simpson a Victoria Cross.

Some historians argued against the idea. Not out of malice or agenda-pushing (as is so common these days) but out of respect to the truth and to others who served.

The claim that Simpson rescued over 300 soldiers, and the source of the legend taught in schools, was a 1916 book titled "Glorious deeds of Australasians in the Great War". It was described by some historians as "propaganda". I haven't read it so I can't make that call, but I do know that I'd regard any publication, by either side, in 1916 as needing a pretty massive dose of salt served with it. (Especially in Australia where a hugely divisive debate about conscription was raging at the time.)

The claim that he dashed into no man's land to carry wounded men back was debunked by the Tribunal. There was no first hand evidence of him ever doing so. Some of his more glorious exploits were recounted by people who, the records show, weren't even at Gallipoli at the time that Simpson was. With regard to the claim of rescuing 300 men... it would have been mathematically impossible given the travel time from the front to the aid stations on the beach, the terrain, the fact that donkeys aren't that fast anyway and certainly aren't fast with a man on board. (And as an aside, one part of the myth is that it was "one man and his loyal donkey", an inseparable team like Batman and Robin. In reality he used at least 5 different donkeys, some of which were killed or injured.) So if it took him (say) an hour's round trip including loading the wounded onto the donkey, and he was at Gallipoli for 24 days... you see how those numbers don't quite work?

A little more cynically, some historians have claimed that by rescuing the relatively lightly wounded (unable to walk but able to ride a donkey) he avoided the more arduous duties of the stretcher bearers who had to physically carry the badly wounded back while standing up and having no donkey to crouch behind as a shield. I don't buy that. Simpson finding and using donkeys on his own initiative? It's not impossible given that as I said, he didn't lean toward military discipline but his officers must have at least acquiesced to the practice, and may have even encouraged it. Even General Monash wrote praising the work in his diaries.

(Aside: I have always wondered where the hell the donkeys came from. According to the web site of the Anzac Day Commemoration Committee (but which I've been unable to find any other supporting documentation for):
"A number of donkeys had been landed, along with their Greek drivers, to carry kerosene tins of water for the troops. Some of these donkeys had been abandoned by their drivers and now sought shelter and what little grazing there was in amongst the wild overgrown gullies. Jack was responding to a call of - “Stretcher-Bearer!” - when he saw, grazing unconcernedly near the wounded man, a donkey."
The rest was history.)

The Tribunal found that Simpson was brave, dedicated, committed to helping his comrades, and admirable in his work... the same as his fellow medics in the 3rd Australian Field Ambulance, whose names are unremembered except as listings on a war memorial or two somewhere.

(Also, Simpson wasn't the only one who used donkeys. At least one New Zealand medic did as well.)

The Victoria Cross is one of few decorations which can be given posthumously, not least because the deeds that one can do to earn one are apt to get one killed. But it needs to be for something above and beyond what everyone else on the front was doing. That wasn't the case here. But it doesn't mean that he received no recognition.

He (and the 3rd Australian Field Ambulance) were Mentioned In Dispatches. "Big whoop", those who are unfamiliar with all things military might say. However "Dispatches" in this context are not merely after-action reports that get filed with a unit's history; it's where people or units are mentioned in the documents which are written by senior officers (generally colonels and above) and sent up to the high command, and comes with an additional decoration to be worn on the relevant medal. (In Simpson's case, the Victory medal.) It's the only other decoration that I know of which could be awarded posthumously. (The award no longer exists in Australia.) Out of 60,000 Australian casualties in WWI, only a couple of hundred were awarded MiD posthumously, apparently.

So yes, his story is worth remembering... as a representation of the work done by many of the medics at the front, rather than relating to a single man.

Someone has attached red poppies (a symbol of remembrance, particularly of World War I veterans) to the sculpture. Traditionally these are only worn around Remembrance Day (11 November) but these seem to be attached all year round here.

The (unintentional) slight "halo effect" above Simpson's head was more a by-product of the (intentional) back-lighting, but is interesting all the same.

The sculptor is Peter Corlett, who also created the sculptures of the Victorian premiers which can be seen in various shots in my A Day And A Bit In Bleak City gallery (particularly image 3464 and those following.)

According to Corlett's own web site, this sculpture was done in 1988.