It was utter chaos: death, destruction and numerous units inter-mixed. ''I never saw such a scene of confusion,'' Elliott said. The Germans had disrupted plans for a British-Australian assault by launching a pre-emptive attack, making a deep incursion on Elliott's right by driving the British back. He had recommended, understandably in the circumstances, that the planned British-Australian operation be postponed, but he was overruled. His superiors assured him that the British would recover their lost ground and then attack alongside his brigade. Elliott's scepticism about this was vindicated when the British did not retrieve their lost ground. When his brigade advanced as ordered, it was exposed by their absence. The ensuing confusion prompted Elliott to make his bold front-line visit. During his survey of the battlefield he invigorated morale and appraised the tactical possibilities, concluding that a series of adjustments - advances here, pressure there - could bring sweeping success. His brigade proceeded to attain not just its objectives in the battle but also those of the struggling British brigade alongside. He and his men turned looming defeat into brilliant victory. Pompey displayed magnificent leadership despite receiving news during the battle that his brother - a doctor and champion footballer who had captained his VFL club and represented Victoria - had been fatally wounded. Seven months later, at Villers-Bretonneux, another stunning counter-attack designed by Pompey Elliott regained control of the tactically vital town overlooking Amiens. This exploit was hailed at the time as the finest feat of the war, and visitors to Villers-Bretonneux can see the town's enduring gratitude in signs bearing the words ''n'oublions jamais l'australie'' (never forget Australia).

Pompey's redoubtable leadership was evident throughout the war. He was wounded at the Gallipoli landing. He was in the front line at Lone Pine, where four of his men were awarded the VC. He was conspicuous at Peronne, the Hindenburg Line and the advance guard operations east of Bapaume. Elliott's men were not surprised by his decisive front-line intervention at Polygon Wood. Getting forward to sort things out was typical of Pompey. Onlooking British soldiers, however, were amazed; one wrote that it was the only time in the whole war that he saw a brigadier in the front line. Another not only marvelled at the unique spectacle of a senior commander in the shelled zone with the acumen and authority to resolve difficulties on the spot, but was also astonished that ''the Australian brigadier … called 'Pompey' by his men'' had told British officers that he knew there were hardly any Germans in front of them because he had ''been to look''. Pompey Elliott's men knew he would never send anyone anywhere he himself was not prepared to go. They respected his tactical insight and admired his willingness to object if the 15th brigade was given an ill-conceived task. No Australian general was more revered by his men, or more renowned beyond his own command. Elliott was a charismatic and tempestuous leader who was unafraid of controversy. His volatile temperament generated incidents that amused his men and disconcerted his superiors. His battle report after Polygon Wood, for example, was so forthright that his corps commander suppressed it. The report was scathing about the British brigade alongside. Because of its ''state of confusion'', Pompey claimed, it provided ''no reliable information whatever''. Most controversially, he asserted that it ''made absolutely no attempt'' to retrieve its forfeited ground, and ''abandoning any intention of doing so they had substituted, in lieu thereof, a pious hope of overtaking the barrage at zero''. After the war, Elliott was prominent in politics, law and the history of the war, and with Sir John Monash and Albert Jacka, VC, was among the three most celebrated Australian Imperial Force identities. He also did his utmost to help returned soldiers with jobs, references, pensions, free legal advice and influential public advocacy, but not even his indefatigable efforts could assuage the impact of the Great Depression.

This was a profoundly unsettling time. Australia's economic system seemed to be sliding into an abyss. Elliott was inundated with pleas for help. ''I am at my wit's end,'' he admitted in mid-1930. The torment aggravated other problems: Elliott had what was to become known as post-traumatic stress disorder, and a grievance about being overlooked for promotion kept gnawing at him. He had diabetes and high blood pressure and sustained a severe head injury while horse-riding. Overwhelmed with worry, he died on March 23, 1931, aged 52. His funeral, attended by thousands, was extraordinary. ''I have never seen a greater tribute,'' former prime minister Stanley Bruce said. A month later Smith's Weekly divulged the confronting truth that Elliott had died by his own hand. Outraged returned soldiers gathered to burn down the newspaper's offices and serious trouble was narrowly averted. Amid the widespread misery and pessimism of the Great Depression, it was profoundly disturbing to learn that a popular hero was so distressed that he had ended his own life. The sentiment lingered, and the manner of his death affected posterity's perception of the man. Though those he had led never forgot him, Elliott remained relatively obscure for decades. His importance has become better understood in recent years; he is prominent, for example, in The Great War, Les Carlyon's book on the Western Front. This trend is about to be consolidated. General Peter Cosgrove will unveil a statue of Pompey Elliott, by Louis Laumen, in Ballarat on May 7. The city's main thoroughfare will be closed for the ceremony, which will launch Ballarat's Heritage Weekend.

Pompey retained an affectionate sense of affiliation with Ballarat, where he lived near Lake Wendouree while a student at Ballarat College. He would have been delighted by this recognition of his significance. Ross McMullin is the author of the biography Pompey Elliott. His next book will be about Australia's lost generation of World War I.