Our hero’s secret love

When Teddy Sheean failed to return from WWII, his fiancee took his engagement ring, worn secretly under her clothes, and put it on her marriage finger forever. Tom Lewis tells the hauntingly beautiful story of a war hero’s secret love

WHEN Teddy Sheean failed to return from World War II, his fiancee took his engagement ring, which she had secretly worn under her clothes, and put it on her marriage finger forever.

The campaign to have Sheean’s bravery recognised with a Victoria Cross shows no signs of subsiding, despite intervention by Defence Chief Angus Campbell. Military historian and retired naval officer Dr Tom Lewis shares the haunting story of a war hero’s secret love.

IT was not even known to naval hero Teddy Sheean’s best mate that he had become engaged before he departed for Darwin on his last mission.

When he failed to return, his fiancee took his engagement ring, worn secretly under her clothes, from around her neck and put it on her marriage finger forever. It went to her cremation with her by special request, because normally jewellery is taken from the body of the departed, and returned to relatives. The diamond ring is therefore lost — as is HMAS Armidale, and the grave of one of Tasmania’s greatest war heroes.

Who was the secret lover? This is an aspect of Teddy Sheean’s life that has been previously hidden in the pages of a history book.

In the year 2000, a lady handed over a photo of Teddy Sheean, even then wellknown, to the Latrobe RSL.

It was of Teddy and an unidentified woman about his age. The donor asked for the photo to be handed to Garry Ivory, Teddy’s nephew, who was then developing a reputation as a campaigner for a Victoria Cross. On the reverse of the photo were written simply two words: “Engaged couple.”

Garry inquired among the extended family and friends, with little result. It was not until some 15 years later that he worked with me when I was writing a book also campaigning for Teddy’s VC.

Ordinary Seaman Sheean, it transpired, had indeed become engaged, on his last leave home, in May-June 1942, when he was in Tasmania.

He had been here from his posting in Sydney, and had by his leave escaped almost certain death. On May 31, 1942 three Japanese midget submarines attacked shipping in the harbour, and a torpedo blew up the Kuttabul, sinking her and killing 21 naval ratings in the process. Teddy, meanwhile, had been securing his future — or so he thought — with his girlfriend in Tasmania: they would keep the relationship secret and reveal it when he returned.

It was Clorice Lapthorne, the sister-in-law of Teddy’s fiancee, who gave the photograph to the Latrobe RSL. The fiancee’s name was Kathleen Ruby Lapthorne.

In 1942, she was 20 years old. Clorice had married Kath’s younger brother Noel Lapthorne.

At some stage, Teddy had acquired an engagement ring. Whether it was purchased or was a family heirloom is unknown, but the young sailor gave Kathleen a ring.

By now, having been in the navy for over a year, he was well off by comparison with his former farming work, and was able to afford something with a diamond.

The ring was an impressive piece of jewellery, according to Clorice, made out of yellow gold, with a central mediumsize diamond and two smaller ones to the sides. Up until Teddy died, when he was at sea serving on HMAS Armidale, she wore it on a chain around her neck.

The ring was then worn by Kathleen for the rest of her life, on her marriage finger.

Kathleen spent most of her adult life looking after her parents, who did not enjoy good health. She did not have another fiancee. She didn’t talk about Teddy a lot. “Maybe it was a melancholy afternoon on the day when she said he was the love of my life,” Clorice says. But Kathleen kept the picture of herself and Teddy on her bedside table for the rest of her days. She died at the Meercroft Home for the Aged, in Devonport, on April 22, 1998, five days after her 76th birthday.

This adds a small human facet to the hero on whose behalf many are now battling. For there is “manifest injustice” in the Sheean case — one of the very aspects the Tribunal appointed last year was looking for. Australia as a nation has often sought out unfairness and tried to remedy it. For example, a few years back, some five decades after the Battle of Long Tan in Vietnam, further decoration was given to many. So why is it not possible to recognise and remedy another injustice — that of the lack of a Victoria Cross for anyone from the Royal Australian Navy? Teddy Sheean’s is the most deserved, and it would go some way to remedy bad treatment. For the navy was treated differently, and unfairly, in World War II.

Imagine today if every approval for an Australian gallantry award had to be ticked off by someone in London. That was what our navy had to endure from 1939 to 1945. The other two forces had their awards approved in Australia. Navies take a long time to grow, and ours had been “parented” by the Royal Navy. When war arrived, there was no time for revision.

At the end of 1942, Teddy Sheean manned his 20mm anti-aircraft gun to the end, fighting off swarms of Japanese aircraft.

Even as the corvette Armidale sank underneath him, having disobeyed the order to abandon ship in an effort to save his shipmates’ lives, he fired to the last.

The system the navy endured in World War II is one of the most unfair ever perpetuated on Australian military personnel. It is more than time it was remedied. Sheean is the best known of its heroes — the award of a VC to him would at least symbolise the righting of the wrong. And now its own tribunal has made the recommendation, the government should heed the findings of the inquiry it started.

Teddy’s lover Kathleen will rest better.