How little French orphan Henri Tovell became an honorary digger in World War I

A small boy stole his way into an Australian army camp at Christmas in 1918 and ended up becoming part of an Australian soldier’s family

Henri Trovell was packed into a hundred-pound oat bag for the journey to England. Picture: Australian war Memorial

Australians aren’t accustomed to a white Christmas, but in 1918 the No. 4 Squadron of the Australian Flying Corps celebrated the holiday, as well as the recent Armistice, in snowy Bickendorf.

Amid the festivities, the bright decorations, a delicious roast dinner and a lively band, Air Mechanic Tim Tovell noticed an unexpected guest. The inviting smells and sounds of the mess hall had tempted a ragged little waif in from the night.

Cold and hungry, this uninvited visitor quickly charmed the squadron. He appreciated the Australian flair for celebration. Tim Tovell had young children of his own at home in Queensland and immediately took on guardianship of Henri. Soon the boy was like his own son.

Henri’s story mirrored that of a generation in war-torn Europe. His father was killed in Flanders and his mother died during a German bombardment.

“I don’t know a lot about my past,” he confessed. Even so, he couldn’t escape the memory of his mother’s lifeless body amongst the rubble of their home. Since then, Henri had attached himself to British units, but the chaos of battle and deaths of newly made friends eventually led him to the Australian airmen that Christmas Eve.

History. No. 4 Squadron mascot, Henri Tovell, dressed smartly in a replica AIF uniform made for him in Lon

Tim decided to take Henri back to Australia with him. He wrote home to tell his wife, Gertie, “that really, one extra in the family wouldn’t make that much of a difference”. Sadly Tim was told his young son at home had died from meningitis, making him more determined to provide Henri with a home.

Time guessed the boy was perhaps 11. But years of fear, hunger and loneliness had a drastic effect on Henri’s size. The squadron decided his new date of birth would be December 25; after all, that date marked a new beginning for Henri. When the time came to return home, Tim knew there would be obstacles.

Henri was packed inside a hundred-pound oat bag, slung over Tim’s shoulder and smuggled aboard a troopship to England. They were sent to a camp on Salisbury Plain where Tim dressed the boy in a tailor-made replica of an AIF uniform and “the little digger” was adored by everyone. He soon got up to mischief and adventure, trapping the rats that rummaged through the camp and joining the men in games of two-up.

For the next leg of his journey, Henri was put inside a hamper, covered with sporting equipment and smuggled into Tim’s cabin. Their troopship stopped in Port Said and Henri, trying to keep up with the men, dived overboard to swim in the cool waters. Like his fellow leave-breakers, he returned to the ship horribly sunburnt and in so much pain that Tim was forced to take him to the ship’s doctor. Henri was hardly a secret stowaway now.

Luckily, one of their fellow travellers was Thomas Joseph Ryan, the premier of Queensland. The moment he learned of Henri’s story he contacted the minister for Home Affairs and organised permission “to land the mascot”.

World War One A History In 100 Stories by Bruce Scates, Rebecca Wheatley and Laura James,

When Henri arrived in his new home, he walked straight up to Gertie and said “Hullo, Mum!” He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a small gold brooch he’d bought with money he’d earned in camp. From that moment on Henri was part of the Tovell family.

In 1926, now a young man, Henri left for Melbourne to train with the RAAF as a motor mechanic. Although homesick for Gertie and Tim, Henri still made the most of the new city. He bought a flash motorcycle and found himself a sweetheart.

Late one night, Henri was riding home from visiting his girlfriend’s house. He collided with a taxi and died not long after the accident.

Henri Tovell was buried in Fawkner Cemetery. Point Cook airmen were the pall-bearers and an Air Force wagon his hearse. Some men from the No. 4 Squadron were there, as well as his girlfriend. She sobbed quietly by the gravesite. Before the dirt was shovelled over the coffin, a French flag was tossed down into his grave.

The story of the little mascot appealed to the hearts of many Melburnians, so much so that the Argus launched an appeal for a statue to commemorate him. Subscriptions rolled in and a small, stone figure of a boy was erected over Henri’s grave.

The memorial looked over his resting place for decades, until the 1950s when the plot was vandalised and the “little digger” went missing. Tim and Gertie were never told about the desecration. It was thought it would be too much for them.

Edited extract from World War One: A History in 100 Stories by Bruce Scates, Rebecca Wheatley and Laura James, published by Viking, $59.99, available now