No events have yet been recorded
Born 29/6/1881 at Maryborough, Vic – daughter of George WHITELEY (Banker, b. 21/2/1845 Yorkshire) & Sarah Annie BARTLEY – who married in Victoria in 1868 Sarah died at Maryborough in 1889, age 39; George moved to WA with his children in 1893, where he died 24/8/1906 at Broome Hill Siblings (all born Maryborough): Sarah Honora Marian b.1869; Susan Harriet b.1871; Boadicia Maude b.1872; Walter William b.1876; George Akid b.1877; Katie May b.1879; Andrew Alexander b.1883 – Pte 3772, 2nd Pioneers – d.11/5/1951 Perth; Elizabeth Rose b.1885; Charles Emanuel b.&d.1888 Educated in Perth, WA 1903 ER – Lady’s help – Boyanup, WA Trained at Kalgoorlie Government Hospital, WA Nov 1908 to Nov 1911 – continued on as a Staff Nurse until Jan 1912 1910 ER – Nurse at Government Hospital, Kalgoorlie [in group photo of nurses in the Kalgoorlie Western Argus, 8/8/1911] General nursing from Jan 1912 – Mar 1913; Theatre Sister May 1913 – Sept 1914 Nursed in Sth Africa under Matron McKenna of Joubert Park, Johannesburg, Sth Africa Embarked at Natal, Sth Africa on the Armadale Castle & arrived Southampton, England 13/9/1913 WW1 Service: Joined the staff of the Australian Voluntary Hospital (AVH) in France in March 1915 Transferred to the QAIMNSR 1/7/1916 when the AVH was taken over by the War Office and renamed No.32 Stationary Hospital. Remained with the 32nd Stat Hosp until 30/11/1916 when transferred to 18 General Hosp To 12 Stat Hosp 4/4/1917 – to 7 Gen Hosp 2/8/17 47 Gen Hosp 17/9/17 Hosp 7/10/17 – 26/10/17 Discharged from Hosp 6/11/17 Admitted 10 Stat Hosp 12/2/1918 with tonsillitis – and discharged 16/2/18 Paris Leave 14/3/18 – 27/3/18 Confidential Report – A/Matron G.A. Howe, 47 Gen Hosp (p.14 SR): “During the period from 17/9/17 to 23/4/18 that Miss Whiteley was serving under me, she always carried out her duties in a satisfactory manner. I found her a very capable & reliable Staff Nurse & a good Ward Manager. She is tactful, energetic & very willing. Is able to maintain discipline. She always appeared to be very interested in her work.” 36 CCS 23/4/18 – to 10 Stationary Hosp 30/4/1918 Nurses Hostel, Abbeville 25/5/1918 58 CCS 9/6/1918 Admitted to 11 CCS 3/8/18 with dental problems (abscess) & transferred to 14th General Hosp 1/9/18, then to England 7/9/1918 Medical Board, Millbank 15/10/1918 – granted sick leave to the 14/11/18 Passed fit for Home Service (UK) 22/11/18 and posted to the Military Hospital, Eastbourne 26/11/18 Service terminated 11/2/1919 Married Capt England Gillingham GLYDE, 28th Bn AIF, on the 29th March 1919 at All Saints’ Church, Stoneycroft, Liverpool, England [England – b. 6/11/1882 Norwood, SA – son of Samuel Dening GLYDE (d.1898) & Anna Cordelia England GILLINGHAM – Insurance Manager] Irvin & England returned to Australia together on the family ship Somali – embarking 1/6/1919 & arriving in WA 8/7/1919 Children: William Guy b.5/1/1920 at Grosvenor Hospital, Fremantle – died the following day, 11 hours later 1925 ER: Shenton Rd, Claremont, WA Living Melbourne 1935, 1937 England died at Plantagenet, WA in 1942 – Irvin living George Hotel, Perth Irvin died suddenly on the 12/6/1954 at Subiaco, Perth, WA, age 72 Privately cremated and ashes dispersed at Karrakatta Cemetery, WA Kalgoorlie Miner (WA), Sat 4 Nov 1911 (p.7): Nurses Whitely, Tuckey, Baesjou, and Friedman, who recently sat for their third year’s examination at the Kalgoorlie Government Hospital, were all successful in passing , and have now become certificated nurses. A report from Coolgardie yesterday stated that Nurse Whitely had obtained the highest number of marks, but she and Nurse Tuckey gained the same number. The report that Nurse Whitely had been appointed as a staff nurse at the Coolgardie Government Hospital proves on inquiry not to be correct. Kalgoorlie Western Argus (WA), Tue 7 Nov 1911 (p.11): COOLGARDIE NOTES Coolgardie, Nov 1 It is understood that a probationer Nurse, Miss Whitely, of the Coolgardie Government Hospital, has recently passed her final examination, and has now received an appointment on the staff as a trained nurse, having obtained the highest number of marks. The Daily News (Perth, WA), Fri 3 Sept 1915 (p.3): MAINLY ABOUT PEOPLE Red Cross notes from Anglo-Australian papers:- Sister I.B. Whiteley, of Kalgoorlie and Perth (W.A.), was in London last month on short leave from the Australian Voluntary Hospital at Wimereux. The Sydney Morning Herald, Wed 9 Feb 1916: DAY AT WIMEREUX AUSTRALIAN HOSPITAL IN FRANCE SPIRIT OF CHEERFUL OPTIMISM (BY E.D.) ………………………………………………………………………………. A merry crowd of 50 sat down on Christmas Day, to an excellent dinner, ……………….. …………….. Sisters I. Greaves (matron), Wyllie, Dow, Walter, Reay, Gabriel, Buckham, Benallack, Saw, Mundell, Mackenzie, Whiteley, Forrest, M’Gennan, Suttor, S. Greaves, Shooebridge, Evans, Cameron, Robertson, Morrough, Ward, Roberts, Misses Berry and Cay. ……………………………………………………………………………….. Sunday Times (Perth, WA), Sun 24 Sept 1916 (p.11s): Somewhere in France Sister Whiteley, of the Australian Voluntary Hospital at Wimeraux, in France, writing to Mrs J.R. Butler, of Newcastle-street, gives the following interesting account of Lieut Bollard, who enlisted from W.A.: - “I told you some time ago that I had Lieut Bollard in as a patient. He was on the sporting staff of the ‘West’ for some years. He left for the front again, and was away only a month when he came back with his leg amputated. Oh! dear, it is so sad – such a nich man he is. It makes a very interesting story, and if you can give it to ‘The Sunday Times,’ do so. He was well known there, too. “It appears the Huns put up their wretched flag on our front barbed wire, and volunteers were called to go out and take it down. He offered, and with several men off he went. He hadn’t got many yards when our own machine guns opened fire, and before the mistake could be remedied down they all went. He got several wounds in the left leg below the knee, and it had to come off immediately. He was frightfully ill for a week at the C.C.S., and was then sent down the line. Now comes the amusing part. He was determined to return here where he had been so happy, and asked to be sent down. The C.O. gave him a letter to the C.O. on the train, which unfortunately was forgotten. On reaching Boulogne he was put in an ambulance and marked down for ‘No. 7.’ No. 7 is the officers’ hospital. He refused to be taken there, and demanded to see the C.O., saying all the time ‘I want to go to the Australian Voluntary Hospital, and I am going.’ “After a long time the C.O. was found, and a heated argument took place, with the result that the C.O. said: ‘Put him in an ambulance and take him to the Australian Hospital.’ Very thankful to be rid of him, I aver. His troubles seemingly had just begun. The driver did not know the way, and wanted to disembark him at all the officers’ hospitals along the way, but he refused to be disembarked, and urged the driver on and on, till the latter began to think he was mad, and they were making for Calais. “in the end our place was reached, and he then astonished the convoy squad by sitting up on his stretcher, looking like death, and demanding the name of the place. On being told, he fell back quite exhausted and quite satisfied, and said he wanted nothing more but just to rest and rest. We were not surprised to find him looking most frightfully ill next day, considering he fought every inch of the way simply to get here. He is still ill, but progressing favourably.” Sunday Times (Perth, WA), Sun 24 Feb 1918 (p.6s): Perth Prattle Not many war workers have had such thrilling experiences as Sister I.B. Whiteley, a Perth nurse. At the outset of the war Sister Whiteley volunteered for, and was accepted by Lady Dudley, the Australian Voluntary Hospital, France, and she has been in France ever since. During the Flanders offensive her hospital was the nearest to the front line. Writing towards the end of the campaign, she said: “I really can’t understand how the boys stick it. Rain, rain, rain, snow, frost and mud, indescribable mud, seas of mud on the road, and thick quagmires in the fields. I am on night duty, and go out every morning. I do not present a very pleasant spectacle on my return, but that is neither here nor there – everybody is the same. In gum-boots, short waterproof I trudge merrily along, getting mixed up in the traffic and marching troops – it’s all in the game. The work is tragic – sixteen hours a day whilst “taking in,” and we take in every third day. There are two other stations, one on each side of us, and we “take in” in turn. The hospital train pulls up in our backyard, so to speak, and a small, light trolley-line runs up into each hospital evacuation shed. Stretchers, three or six, are placed on the trolley, and run alongside the train. Five trains a day left the first week. They were splendid – always on the spot. The boys are brought into the reception shed, given a hot drink, and those fit to travel are dressed and put in the train. Those for operation are sent to a preparation room, searched and undressed, little treasures put into a small bag, which is tied to the stretcher. Each lies in a row awaiting his turn. If well enough after, he is put into a tent to come round, and then away he goes; if not well enough, he goes to the wards, where do also those too ill for anything at all to be done. Theatre goes continuously, averaging 70 operations in 24 hours. The hard work is tragic in the extreme. One feels so helpless, and appears to do so little. After 12 hours’ whirl one feels one has just run round and round for a couple of hours at the most. I find myself wondering in desperate moments what it is all for – this wanton destruction of beautiful life. Those beautiful boys who have everything before them, who might have done so much for the world – and these older men, fathers of families with everything to lose. It is truly dreadfully wicked, and does not bear thinking about. There will be no riding into Berlin, and I doubt if we will get them further than Belgium. Not because we can’t, but because we will begin to see the end, and will save our men and money by letting internal German trouble end things. At least, that is the conclusion I arrive at after careful deliberation. If only you could see what the men undergo – living in a sea of mud, on bully beef and biscuits and tea, week in and week out – nothing to look forward to, and the knowledge for ever before them that their turn is next. They ‘go over’ next, and maimed for life or merciful death is their portion. I often wonder at their thoughts on the last march along this road, so many of them, mostly Jocks, bravely swanking along to the pipes. They look so gay and care free, and always a saucy word and smile for “Sister.” One would think they were off to a Caledonian sports.” Western Mail, Fri 20 Jun 1919: MARRIAGES GLYDE – WHITELELY – On March 29, 1919, at All Saints’ Church, Liverpool, England, by the Rev E.E. Whittingham Jones, M.A., Captain England Glyde, 28th Battalion, AIF, of Claremont, to Sister Irvin B Whiteley, Q.A.I. Military Nursing Service Reserve, of Perth and Kalgoorlie. The Argus, Thur 25 Apr 1935: RETURNED ARMY NURSES' REUNION Old Friendships Renewed on Anzac Eve ……………………………………………………………………………. Among those present whose memories could go back to the beginning of the war years were the small group of Australian nurses who staffed the first Australian hospital in France in 1914, and who meet always for a reunion on the evening of Anzac Day at the home of Miss M. Buckham, R.R.C., in Mont Albert. The group includes Miss I. M. Greaves, R.R.C., of New South Wales, who has come to Melbourne for the Anzac Day march, and is the guest of Miss Buckham, Miss Gabriel, R.R.C., (now Mrs. Aumont), Miss Nan Reay, R.R.C., and Miss H. Bowie, R.R.C., who were the first to enlist, and Miss Nay Nicholson, Miss Forrest, R.R.C., Miss Benallack, Miss Susan Greaves (NSW), and Miss Whiteley (now Mrs. Glyde), who joined the staff later.