When Kiama author Ryan Butta told his wife he was going to write a book her response was blunt: “No you’re bloody not, you’re going to find a job first”. 

The couple had recently moved back to Australia after living in South America for several years. Ryan, who has an MBA and ran a consultancy business in Latin America, had worked for large companies like HSBC Bank and Rio Tinto, but struggled to find a job on his return home. 

“I was on a bushwalk with my wife and I remember saying ‘maybe it was a mistake coming back. You know what I’m going to do, I’m going to write a book’,” he recalls. A voracious reader, Ryan had always wanted to publish a novel. 

“Once I said it out loud I thought ‘I actually have to do this’. So I ended up finding a job with Austrade, but before and after work, I started writing fiction.”

In 2019 Ryan self-published his first novel, a spy thriller loosely based on his time in Latin America. “It’s one of the things I am most proud of,” he says. 

In the five years since writing his debut, Ryan has followed up with two non-fiction titles. The Ballad of Abdul Wade, shortlisted for the South Australian Literary Awards nonfiction book of the year 2024, tells the story of an Afghan entrepreneur who first brought camel trains to the outback. Ryan’s most recent release, The Bravest Scout at Gallipoli, was launched at Bouquiniste Cafe last month and is based on the life of Harry Freame, the first Australian soldier to win the distinguished conduct medal at Gallipoli. 

While researching Harry’s story Ryan uncovered the sad truth behind the death of one of Australia’s bravest, but least-known soldiers. Ryan’s meticulous research ensured he got the recognition he deserved. 

Harry Freame was not your typical ANZAC. He was born in Japan and had an Australian father and Japanese mother. He was raised as a Samurai, under the Bushido code - the seven principles of righteousness, loyalty, honour, respect, honesty, courage and consistency which samurai warriors live by. 

“When I was researching this book, it was tragic and very emotional to read about what these young soldiers went through,” says Ryan. “They had no idea about the horrors they would face. But it wasn’t just young British Australians out there on the battlefields of Gallipoli. There were Africans from the French colonies fighting alongside ANZACs; there were Indigenous soldiers, Maori soldiers, Sikh soldiers; there was the Zionist mule regiment doing all the transport. So it was a very multicultural fighting force, I’m not sure that comes through when we talk about the ANZAC legend.” 

Ryan says Harry’s dream was to become a commissioned officer. His research found correspondence between Australian military generals who agreed Harry should be commissioned but didn’t think such an honour would be bestowed upon him because “he was Mexican”. 

“Everyone thought Harry was Mexican because of his dark skin, the way he dressed and the fact he carried revolvers instead of a rifle,” says Ryan. Despite never reaching the rank of commissioned officer, Harry was loved by the troops he fought alongside and the leaders he aspired to be like. 

“Men rallied behind him, he was a leader of men,” says Ryan. “When it came down to it, our troops relied on his intelligence to launch attacks. Harry would crawl around No Man’s Land on his belly and map the Turkish trenches, their defences, the number of machine guns they had. He was captured in the trenches at one point and managed to escape. He was wounded so many times his body was covered in scars.”

Renowned war correspondent and historian Charles Bean called Freame “the finest scout at Gallipoli” and “the most ubiquitous soldier on the peninsula”.

“Harry received the distinguished conduct medal but he should have got the VC (Victoria Cross),” says Ryan. “But were (the military) going to give the first ever VC to a non-white person at a time when the White Australia policy was in place? Probably not. These are lessons that Harry’s story teaches us.”

Despite being wounded 18 times, Harry survived WWI and returned to Australia to live on a small farm near Armidale as part of the Government’s soldier settlement scheme for war veterans. He married and had children but the scheme was “a complete bust”.

“It was riddled with corruption, the plots were too small and Harry couldn’t make a living,” explains Ryan. “So by 1939 he was broke. He tried to enlist just before WWII broke out but was told he was too old (he was 60). Instead, Australian military intelligence recruited Harry to spy on the Japanese community living in Sydney.”

Harry moved to Sydney, where he was also recruited by Censorship to read Japanese letters. Shortly before war broke out, External Affairs sent Harry to Japan as an interpreter (a cover to continue his work as a government spy). But a report in a newspaper about Harry’s work as an interpreter blew his cover. 

“Despite this he was still sent to Japan,” says Ryan incredulously. “Three months after arriving in Tokyo he was attacked on the street. Japanese military police tried to garotte him.”

Miraculously Harry survived the attack but was badly injured and hospitalised in Japan before being sent home.

“Harry was fearful of the Japanese doctors so didn’t tell anybody what happened,” explains Ryan. “When he arrived back in Australia he could hardly walk off the boat, and he had barely eaten because his throat was mangled. Specialists were unable to work out what was wrong with him and he was sent home. Eventually Harry told his wife, children and close friends from the RSL that he had been attacked. A couple of weeks later he died.”

Ryan’s research found that immediately after Harry’s death, Military Intelligence and External Affairs tried to get hold of Harry’s death certificate and the doctors who treated him. 

“When his death certificate was released it said he died of gallbladder cancer,” says Ryan, who smelled a rat and began digging into Harry’s medical records, as well as asking two forensic pathologists to consult on the cause of death. 

“It smacked of a government cover-up,” explains Ryan. “They leaked Harry’s role as a spy to the press and then sent him behind enemy lines, where he was attacked. No autopsy was carried out and gallbladder cancer is extremely rare. I managed to get hold of Harry’s repatriation file and it says three weeks before he died he was released from hospital undiagnosed, so where did the gallbladder diagnosis come from?” 

When Harry’s wife tried to get a headstone for him and some compensation as a war widow it was refused, with the government saying he died of cancer unconnected to his previous war service. 

“His wife spent 20 years trying to get Harry a headstone and have his service recognised,” says Ryan.” She died with her husband still buried in an unmarked grave. Harry’s son, who finished top of his class in Duntroon, was killed fighting the Japanese in WWII, and his daughter died aged 92, in 2019. They all died without giving him a proper burial.”

Harry’s story became so much more than a book for Ryan. It was also a quest to convince the Australian government, including the Prime Minister, to recognise Harry’s service. 

“The complicity of the government (at the time) in Harry’s death is probably why he wasn’t celebrated as he should have been, essentially that’s why I wrote the book,” says Ryan, who never imagined he would spend months petitioning the government to recognise Harry’s service.

When Ryan first came across Harry’s story, the soldier was buried in an unmarked grave in Sydney. When he finished the story, Harry had a headstone. Australia’s first soldier to win the distinguished conduct medal can finally rest easy. 

Ryan will join the Berry Writers Festival on October 27, to discuss his latest book, now available at local retailers The Bookshop Kiama and Bouquiniste.