My maternal grandfather was a machine-gunner in WW1; in Egypt, and on The Somme. Incredibly, he survived, if only just. And remarkably unscathed, at least physically; athough his back and leg still had pieces of shrapnel which proved an astonishing entertainment for clueless grandkids.

He’d never talk about any of his experiences. In fact, if the subject was so much as raised, he’d become intensely agitated. So we’ll never know what the hidden collection of medals in his lowboy really mean.

It’s just as well there are people still interested enough in personal accounts of the era, such as those that inspired Through These Lines. A creative decision that very much enriches, validates and contextualises the material is to stage the work at Headland Park, Mosman, site of the third-largest wartime hospital, during WW1.

Down we went, on a dark and nigh-on stormy night (the Sydney spring should know better, but it suited the gloomy wartorn aesthetic to a tee); into the heritage-listed tunnels where, happily, iPhones know no signal. Writer, director, producer and prop mistress Cheryl Ward’s script was inspired by this spirit of place, which led her to explore and mine the letters, diaries and narratives of Australian nurses serving overseas ’14-’18. The result is the world premiere of this, ‘The Tunnel Project’.

One sits on wooden benches and isn’t so much watching the play as in it. Tom Bannerman’s less-is-more design is sympathetic to the confinement of the space. There are but a few lights, hand-borne lanterns and scant pine props (a table and boxes), as well as period pieces in the form of accurate or evocative costumes (by Cassandra Pascoli), documents and implements. All serve exceptionally well.

Jeremy Silver’s sound design is, at times, spectacularly lifelike, as are Spiros Hristias’ lighting effects. The whole production is run, most impressively, off a Mac, by multitasking technomaniac, Engie Ho.

The cast inhabits a multiplicity of characters, times, places and accents: no mean feat(s). While the roles are by no means flawlessly executed, it’s early days and it’s a confrontingly cosy space in which to perform. Coralie Bywater, especially, gives a heart-rending performance and is well-supported by Mairead Berne and the dulcet Lucy Miller. Johann Walraven yet again shows his versatility, range and theatrical self-mastery as Bywater’s doomed love interest. Sebastian Lamour, who has no formal training, shows prodigious promise, but Peter Hayes seemed self-conscious and a little forced.

On the whole, however, practically all show great finesse; certainly enough to bring out the pathos that veritably seeps down through the decades, like ink running under the weight of tears, to inhabit our imaginations and remind us of the futility and tragedy of war and, hopefully, to haunt our souls enough to circumvent at least some of the bloodshed that seems so endemic to human dominion.

Through The Lines is a modest, unassuming work that serves as a time-machine, allowing us to see into the hearts and minds of our courageous, self-sacrificing, long-suffering forebears, lest we forget, without the clamour and cacophony of jingoism that typically accompanies such outings. Sad. Affecting. And very worthwhile.

Curtain Call rating: A-

The details: Through The Lines is staged at Headland Park in Mosman, Sydney until October 24. Tickets are available online.