On a windswept stretch of Western Australia’s coastline, a century-old mystery has been brought to light. During a routine beach cleanup at Wharton Beach near Esperance on October 9, 2025, the Brown family stumbled upon an unassuming Schweppes-brand glass bottle just above the waterline. Inside, to their astonishment, were two pencil-written letters—messages penned by World War I soldiers Malcolm Neville and William Harley in August 1916, mere days after they had departed Australia for the battlefields of France.
According to reports from the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and other outlets, Deb Brown, her husband Peter, and their daughter Felicity were out on one of their regular quad bike expeditions to clear the beach of rubbish. "We do a lot of cleaning up on our beaches and so would never go past a piece of rubbish. So this little bottle was lying there waiting to be picked up," Deb Brown told the press. What they found inside was far more than ordinary litter—it was a direct link to the lives and hopes of two young men heading into the jaws of war.
The letters, preserved in the thick glass, were dated August 15, 1916, and written aboard the troop ship HMAT A70 Ballarat. The vessel had left Adelaide just three days earlier, carrying reinforcements for the 48th Australian Infantry Battalion bound for the Western Front. Private Malcolm Alexander Neville, aged 27, and Private William Kirk Harley, aged 37, took the opportunity to write messages and entrust them to the bottle, perhaps never imagining they would be discovered 109 years later.
Both men described their initial experiences at sea. Neville’s letter, intended for his mother Robertina Neville in Wilkawatt, South Australia, painted a vivid picture of life aboard the ship: "Having a real good time, food is real good so far, with the exception of one meal which we buried at sea." He added with a touch of humor and optimism, "The ship was heaving and rolling, but we are as happy as Larry," referencing a popular Australian expression meaning very happy. Harley, whose mother had already passed away by 1916, wrote, "May the finder be as well as we are at present," and gave his blessing for the finder to keep his note. He marked their location as "Somewhere in the Bight," referring to the Great Australian Bight, the vast open bay stretching from Adelaide to Esperance.
The fate of both soldiers, as revealed through family accounts and military records, was a stark reminder of the war’s toll. Private Neville, who had initially been discharged for poor eyesight but re-enlisted a week later, was killed in action in France at age 28. Private Harley endured two wounds in the trenches but survived the conflict, only to die in Adelaide in 1934 from cancer his family believes was caused by exposure to poison gas during the war.
What makes this discovery so remarkable is not just the age of the letters, but their pristine preservation. Despite being damp, the paper was still legible, and the bottle itself showed little sign of its long journey. As Deb Brown observed, "The bottle is in pristine condition. It doesn’t have any growth of any barnacles on it. I believe that if it had been at sea or if it had been exposed for that long, the paper would’ve disintegrated from the sun. We wouldn’t have been able to read it." The Browns and experts suspect that the bottle spent most of its century-long slumber buried in sand dunes, only to be unearthed by recent storms and coastal erosion.
The emotional impact of the find has resonated deeply with the descendants of both men. Brown managed to trace the families using the details provided in the letters. Herbie Neville, great-nephew of Malcolm Neville, was overwhelmed by the connection to his ancestor. "It sounds as though he was pretty happy to go to the war. It’s just so sad what happened. It’s so sad that he lost his life," he reflected. "Wow. What a man he was," Herbie added, pride and sorrow mingling in his words. For Ann Turner, granddaughter of William Harley, the discovery was nothing short of miraculous. "We just can’t believe it. It really does feel like a miracle and we do very much feel like our grandfather has reached out for us from the grave," she told the Australian Broadcasting Corporation.
The letters themselves offer a rare, unfiltered glimpse into the minds of two ordinary Australians at the threshold of extraordinary events. Their words, while cheerful and even playful, are tinged with the gravity of their circumstances. Neville’s instructions to deliver his message to his mother, and Harley’s invitation for the finder to keep his, speak to the uncertainties of war and the yearning for connection across time and distance.
For historians and the public alike, the find is a tangible reminder of the human stories behind the statistics of war. The 48th Battalion, like so many other Australian units, suffered heavy losses on the Western Front. The letters, now returned to the families, serve as personal artifacts that bridge the gap between past and present, allowing descendants to learn details about their relatives that had been lost to time. As reported by BBC and other media, the families expressed profound emotion at receiving these unexpected gifts—a direct, physical link to loved ones whose sacrifices were made more than a century ago.
The story of the bottle’s journey is, in itself, a testament to the power of chance and the persistence of memory. The bottle’s long burial in the dunes, its sudden reappearance after storms, and its discovery by a family dedicated to caring for their local environment all contributed to this improbable reunion. As Deb Brown put it, "This little bottle was simply waiting for us to pick it up."
In a world where so much history is abstracted into dates and numbers, the letters from Neville and Harley offer something more intimate: the sound of voices reaching out from the past, full of hope, humor, and humanity. Their words, preserved against all odds, remind us that history is made not just by generals and politicians, but by individuals whose stories still have the power to move us—109 years later, on a quiet Australian beach.
