Billy Singh lay motionless in his sniper position before dawn, silent and invisible, waiting for Turkish soldiers to wander into his sights. An Australian of Chinese and English descent, Singh had slipped past the racial barriers that blocked most non-Europeans from serving in the Australian Imperial Force. In doing so, he became one of the deadliest snipers of the First World War, a man whose confirmed kills would reach 150 during the Gallipoli campaign, with some accounts suggesting the true number may have exceeded 200. Singh was born on March 3, 1886, in Queensland, the son of a Chinese immigrant who had arrived in Australia during the gold rush of the 1850s and an English nurse.
He grew up in and around the rural town of Claremont, one of three children, in a place where daily life was often difficult. From a young age, he stood out for his extraordinary talent as a horse rider and his exceptional skill with a rifle, earning a local reputation as both a hunter and a competitive target shooter. When war broke out in the summer of 1914, Australia joined the conflict alongside Britain. On October 24 of that year, two months after the outbreak of war, Singh enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force at the age of 28.
The racial policies of the time typically barred individuals of non-European ancestry from military service, but a recruitment officer chose to overlook Singh’s Chinese heritage, allowing him to serve. He was assigned to the 5th Light Horse Regiment and sent to Egypt for training. By May 1915, Singh’s regiment was deployed to the front lines at Gallipoli, the Allied campaign to seize the Dardanelles and open a supply route to Russia. Armed with a .
303 Lee-Enfield rifle and working with a spotter, Singh began his deadly trade. Initially stationed in an area known as Chatham’s Post, he would take up his position before dawn and remain completely motionless for hours until Turkish soldiers crossed his line of sight. Despite the grim efficiency of his work, Singh was known for exercising restraint. He refused to target stretcher bearers and those attempting to rescue the wounded, a decision that stood in sharp contrast to his lethal reputation.
By the end of his time at Gallipoli, he had been credited with 150 confirmed kills. Other accounts, including a commendation by General William Birdwood, suggested his tally may have exceeded 200. Among the Anzac troops in the trenches, Singh’s growing reputation earned him nicknames. He was called the Assassin and the Anzac Angel of Death.
His notoriety, however, also made him a target. In response to their heavy losses, Turkish forces deployed their own most skilled marksman, a sniper nicknamed Abdul the Terrible, with orders to eliminate Singh. Over several days, the two snipers engaged in a standoff. Using his instincts and skill, Singh was eventually able to prevail and kill his rival.
Word of the duel spread quickly through the trenches, adding to the legend that surrounded him. He would later be awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal for his courage and effectiveness at Gallipoli. His citation read that from May to September 1915 at Anzac, his courage and skill as a sniper had been most marked, and he was responsible for a very large number of casualties among the enemy, with no risk too great for him to take. By July 1916, Singh’s war had moved on.
He was reassigned to the 31st Battalion and departed for England. In January 1917, he joined the brutal fighting on the Western Front. Throughout this period of service, Singh continued to distinguish himself and was mentioned in dispatches on numerous occasions. His body, however, was paying the price.
Shrapnel injuries to his leg saw him hospitalized in March 1917. While recovering in Scotland, Singh met a waitress named Elizabeth Stewart. They married in Edinburgh in June of that same year. A month later, he returned to the trenches in France.
September 1917 brought Singh to the Battle of Polygon Wood, where he led a series of successful counter-sniping operations. The action earned him the Belgian Croix de Guerre. But by mid-February 1918, he was hospitalized once again, this time with a gunshot wound to the back. He had also begun showing signs of chronic lung disease caused by prolonged exposure to gas.
These severe health problems marked the end of his military career. Singh returned home in November 1918 and received a hero’s welcome, with townspeople gathering to celebrate his remarkable exploits. The years that followed were far from easy. He reportedly struggled to adjust to civilian life, and the lingering effects of his wartime injuries and illnesses followed him for the rest of his days.
Attempts at farming and gold mining proved unprofitable, adding to the challenges of his postwar years. By 1942, Singh was living in a boarding house in Brisbane’s West End, battling declining health and financial hardship. On May 19, 1943, he died at the age of 57. His death received little public attention, only a brief mention in the local newspaper.
He was buried at Lutwyche Cemetery in Brisbane, where his legacy lay largely forgotten for decades. In the 1990s, renewed efforts by local journalists and the Returned Services League reignited public interest in Singh’s story. A number of memorials were created in honor of his wartime contributions, and an updated plaque on his grave now carries an epitaph that reads: “His incredible accuracy contributed greatly to the preservation of the lives of those with whom he served during a war always remembered for countless acts of valor and tragic carnage.
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