Police officers honoured with formal graves in Broken Hill over a century after deaths
On a chilly winter morning in far west New South Wales a small cluster of people stands solemnly over the grave of Sergeant John Everett Lumley.
Sergeant Lumley, a NSW Police officer and veteran of the Boer War, died in 1919 aged 39 while posted in the small community of Tibooburra shortly after being hospitalised due to illness, diagnosed at the time as "paralysis".
However, until recently, his final resting place was little more than a bare patch of gravel in the Broken Hill Cemetery.
Originally from the Lismore area, Sergeant Lumley was one of several officers stationed in the far west who died on duty and were buried far away from their home towns, according to retired Broken Hill policeman Ray Gardoll.
"Back in the day you were basically buried within two to three days of your death because the place had no refrigeration," Mr Gardoll said.
"And because these people lived so far away, no [relatives] actually got to them to pop a proper memorial on there for them."
Mr Gardoll also heads up Back to Barrier, a community organisation dedicated to connecting ex-police who worked in the area.
He said when he became aware there were fallen officers interred in unmarked graves, some of whom were also war veterans, he knew something had to be done.
With the aid of various historical groups across the state, Back to Barrier's project began with finding and honouring another Boer War veteran and NSW officer.
Probationary constable William Harold Blackman was buried in 1901 after dying a matter of weeks into the job.
After his grave was located, local tradespeople and volunteers crafted a metal frame atop an elevated grave of crushed rock and fitted it with a plaque to commemorate both his life and his military service.
Probationary Constable Blackman was officially honoured with a special ceremony last year, a tradition which continued this week for Sergeant Lumley, 106 years to the day after he died.
Both ceremonies were attended by representatives from local and state government, police, and the Broken Hill RSL, as well as patron of the Australian Light Horse Association, Vietnam veteran and retired Broken Hill officer Rodney O'Regan OAM.
Mr O'Regan, who dresses in colonial attire during the services in recognition of his long-passed comrades, said he loved being a part of it.
"These fellows did really hard times and to be put in an [unmarked] grave in the middle of nowhere — they deserve more," Mr O'Regan said.
"I can leave here today knowing full well [they've] been looked after in later life and remembered as they should be."
Mr O'Regan also adds a personal touch, supplying an original mounted police saddle from the 1940s with a pair of boots purposefully reversed in the stirrups.
The idea of finding and marking police graves is growing, with groups located in Lismore and the state's Central West liaising with Back to Barrier to replicate the project in their own areas.
While there is still an unknown number of graves yet to be uncovered, the next Broken Hill officer to be memorialised has already been found in Constable George Bellis, who died in 1918.
Constable Bellis' great-nephew Peter Bellis, who has been researching his family history for decades, said he was excited to travel to the Silver City when the new grave would be unveiled in March next year.
"I had previously looked up the cemetery records to try and find [George's] grave but I unfortunately could not find any entry," Mr Bellis said.
"To now know where he's buried, and to be able to go there next year to commemorate that, is something I'm looking forward to.
"I would certainly encourage other families to [get involved] because it provides a connection [and] closure, and you get to essentially reclaim a lost member of your family."
But for now, Back to Barrier formally farewells Sergeant Lumley with the words: "He stood his watch. He was the thin blue line. He is now relieved."
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SBS Australia
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It proceeded to pass a series of laws known as the Pacific Solution , which meant asylum seekers arriving by boat could be detained and their claims for refugee status processed in offshore centres on Nauru and Manus Island in Papua New Guinea. Another centre was set up on Christmas Island, with the government cutting off the territory from its migration zone. This barred access to refugee determination processes followed on the mainland. Agreements were secured for the Tampa asylum seekers to be taken to New Zealand and Nauru, as Howard positioned his government as tough on border control ahead of the 2001 election. Along with mandatory detention, iterations of offshore processing have defined Australia's stance over successive governments and have repeatedly raised concerns among human rights groups and UN agencies. Offshore processing continued until 2008, by which time boat arrivals had declined and facilities had been emptied. 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In reality, his path has been long and difficult. While acknowledging "every country has rights to protect their borders", he says Australia "can do better than this". Shiao Lu Ooi's decision to come to Australia as an international student was based on a gut feeling. The Malaysian-born 22-year-old initially considered pursuing a study in the United Kingdom, but was drawn to "something really inherent about Australia". However, things didn't go as planned. The onset of the COVID-19 pandemic prompted Australia to close its borders in 2020, so Ooi had to complete her first semester abroad. Ooi moved to Melbourne ahead of her second semester in 2022, after borders had re-opened. She recalls feeling insecure and anxious in the lead-up. "I caught COVID on my third day here, and I knew nothing whatsoever about Melbourne at that point," she says. "I remember being so scared and homesick, being like, 'I just want to go home. This is so tough, and I don't know how I'm going to navigate my life here'.'' Ooi says her experience was compounded by "rumours and misinformation" associated with COVID-19 and aggression towards Asian people during that time. I was very, very scared, to the point I kept on asking people, 'could I go out?' Shiao Lu Ooi In time, Ooi was able to explore her new city and form connections. She is now a youth adviser at the Centre for Multicultural Youth and the founder of Wombat Collective, a non-profit organisation that supports international students in engaging with grassroots initiatives. She says connecting with international students and other people from diverse backgrounds in Melbourne has offered her "the community that I always wanted". But Ooi believes COVID-19 has had a "spillover effect". "I would 100 per cent say that COVID definitely has altered perceptions of international students very negatively, and that contributes to how these issues like housing, financial difficulties and securing work still impact [them] to this day." When Australia closed its borders in 2020, migration levels — sometimes referred to as net overseas migration (NOM) — entered a shortfall as international students returned home. NOM refers to the difference between those who enter and leave Australia, and includes both migrants and Australians. The re-opening of borders prompted a rebound in arrivals. "We do expect a bounce back; that's just getting back to normal levels now," Stevens says. "What we experienced with COVID was hopefully a once-in-a-life crisis, and we do have to expect a bit of economic and therefore political instability in the years that follow." International students have also been singled out by some politicians for causing or exacerbating the housing crisis — a claim that has since been refuted in research from the Student Accommodation Council and the University of South Australia. Stevens says this cohort is being "scapegoated for economic problems not of their making" as a means of political distraction, calling the recent discussion on housing a "complete furphy". "At the same time, we're demonising a significant part of the Australian population who make important contributions to not just the economy but Australian culture and society overall." Ooi agrees: "It is not one-dimensional; there are many national and global factors that contribute to the housing crisis." "There are a lot of ways that I believe the crisis could be tackled – and this is not one of those ways, by pinning it entirely on international students," she says. The scapegoating of migrants is not a new concept to many migrant Australians, including Carina Hoang. The now 62-year-old academic and historian published a book in 2010 titled Boat People, chronicling the journeys taken by Vietnamese refugees, like herself. She believes the meaning of the term has changed significantly. "In my time, it's more describing this group of people who flee persecution, and their way of transportation was by boat," she says. "I felt as if at that time [in the 1970s] that people were welcoming boat people with more compassion, with humanity, with some understanding." I felt as if at that time [in the 1970s] that people were welcoming boat people with more compassion, with humanity, with some understanding. Carina Hoang Later, Hoang says the term "became demonised". "We didn't have a choice. Whether we went on foot, on the water [or] by air, those refugees are trying to flee hardship or persecution … and trying to find safety, even freedom, for themselves and their families," she says. "Being judged by the term boat people because of the way they came, it's not right." Hoang's journey led her to resettle as a refugee in the US in 1980. She migrated to Australia with her husband in 2006 and settled in Perth, where she has lived for the past quarter-century. She has since completed a PhD in refugee experiences and now works as the UNHCR's special representative to Australia. "I have Vietnam as the country where I was born, America where I lived for 25 years, and then now Australia … Out of those three places, I would call Australia home. Carina Hoang This project was designed and developed by Jono Delbridge and Ken Macleod, with video led by Pranjali Sehgal, additional reporting from Amy Hall and Chris Tan, and research support from SBS Chinese and SBS Dinka. It was edited by Anna Freeland. Your stories have shaped SBS for half a century. Together, we're just getting started. Join us as we celebrate 50 years of belonging on our SBS50 portal and SBS50 content hub .
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