Bundaberg's best - Fighting Mac McKenzie

FIGHTING MAC

William McKenzie was a big man. Larger than life, almost. Imagine John Wayne in a Salvation Army uniform and you get a pretty close image of the man people called “Fighting Mac”.

He got that name for good reason. He was born in Scotland in 1869 and even as a boy William was big for his age, strong and quick with his fists.

The name stuck, even after William became a Christian in 1887, three years after his family had migrated to Australia, and his subsequent career as a Salvation Army officer.

On one memorable occasion, William was leading a street meeting when a drunken heckler began threatening to knock the young officer into the horse trough. The alcohol more than made up for the inebriated man’s lack of size compared to the rock-solid William. The man charged the open-air ring and William effortlessly sidestepped the drunk, sending the poor wretch into the trough instead.

As a divisional commander, William was regarded by Salvos in Australia as a man of inflexible principle, but with a tender heart to match. By the time he rose to the high rank of commissioner, “Fighting Mac” was Territorial Commander for China and later became the first Australian-trained officer to command both the Australia Southern and Australia Eastern territories.

Such a personality is worthy of remembering as a legend, but something else earned for him the love and admiration of thousands of men and their families across Australia and New Zealand. 

Historic role
William was the first to be appointed as chaplain to accompany ANZAC troops at the outset of World War One. He was farewelled from The Salvation Army’s Sydney Congress Hall on 30 September 1914, and when he set sail with his new flock, the 4th Battalion, William sailed into history, taking on a fighting role he likely never envisioned.

William trained alongside his new mates in the unforgiving heat of Egypt. When the battalion received orders to go into battle, the objective was the capture of a Turkish peninsula called Gallipoli.

In the darkness before the invasion commenced, William went to as many of his men as he could, repeating with them Psalm 23: “The Lord is my Shepherd ... Yea, though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For thou art with me ...”

Though he carried no gun, he went forward with his men to fight. “I’ve preached to you and I’ve prayed with you. Do you think I’m afraid to die with you?” he told them.

The fighting at Gallipoli was fierce and bloody. Under shell-fire, William brought out wounded troops, prayed with the dying and helped bury the dead. He collected identity discs and paybooks of fallen soldiers so that an accurate record could be maintained and information later sent to families.

At one point during the battle, William saw that stretcher bearers had to make their way up a deep, slippery slope. He used a pick and shovel to cut deep steps up the bank to make their path easier.

The 4th Battalion was eventually sent to France, where another bloody battle had played out a fortnight earlier. William again used a pick and shovel to dig graves for the bodies of men who had remained on the field all that time.

On one ridge, where he had buried seven fallen heroes, the enemy spotted him and began shooting. Soon they were lobbing shells in his direction.  As he completed the seventh grave, the Lord told him to move quickly, which he did.

“I obeyed instantly and had got away 25 yards in a slanting direction from the enemy’s fire when a big shell landed on the spot I had been standing a few seconds before!” he later wrote.

There were many such close calls for William before he was sent home to Australia in 1917. His military duty was over and when he arrived in Melbourne’s Exhibition Building, some 6000 welcomed him home.

Ongoing compassion
William was awarded the Military Cross, the Order of the British Empire and The Salvation Army’s highest honour, the Order of the Founder.

He still had a distinguished career resuming as a Salvation Army officer, but “Fighting Mac’s” sleep was often broken by the sights and sounds of his dying comrades which had seared into his memory.

Though, no doubt, proud and humbled by the distinctions pinned on to his uniform, William was touched more so every time a returned serviceman came up to him. Some to say “Thank you”, some to just shake his hand. Some because they were in trouble.

But “Fighting Mac” never turned them away. He saw the horrors of war with them. He suffered with them. He wept over them.

The love Commissioner William McKenzie had for his men under his war ministry was second only to the love he had for his Saviour until his death in 1947.