Australians at War Film Archive

Right. I was born on the 2nd of May 1917. Mum was Caroline Dedra and married to William Herbert Devine 1914. First couple o’ years I can recollect fairly well.

Fact the first time I remember me life as active, me youngest brother was born and I was with me Aunty Gladdy, one o’ Dad’s sisters, Minven Avenue, Northbridge. Anyhow, Aunty Gladdy had taught us up the back a bit and I had to go up there and this is May

and I wasn’t real happy. But I got over that and settled down and next recollection I have, we were with Dad, there’s other things but Dad in particular, Foot Running Championship Present, Firemen’s Sports 1921, and I’m watchin’

this. I’d be four and I could see pretty fair then and Dad give me a paper bag with something in it, I think it was cakes or something. Anyhow, when he come back they were missin’. But Dad won, that’s the main thing. That’s the old medal over there. Now that’s that far. And then I started school just after that, St Francis,

Paddington. Went there not sure how long then we moved up to Bondi Junction to Jack Chalmers’ place. Now Jack Chalmers was somebody. He was a shark rescue bloke that had a job, got Albert Medal, got the book here with it in. Anyway, gettin’

away from that, almost Kendall Street I think, doesn’t matter about the street, and we moved down to Double Bay. No we didn’t, went to Edgecliff. Dad was shifted round, bein’ in the police, they’d transfer him to different areas with detective, different story. And I know I went to school at St Francis and Holy Cross

at Bondi Junction, Waverley. And then at Edgecliff I went to a convent there, Oliveto, and over the road was St Joseph’s Christian Brothers. After I made me first Holy Communion, this is 1924, 8th of December, and I’d go over there to the Christian Brothers though I didn’t like ’em much, they were cruel bastards.

They’d hit you with a bit of chain, not chain. Trace of which’d have a horse’s on it, you know, not for me. Now there’s a bloke named Scott there, he give us physical exercise and he’d go crook on me cause I’d pull me pants up so they wouldn’t drop over me knee and I was usin’, you know, bein’ me,

and that was one of the first things that I can remember now when I look back. In fact I haven’t thought of it for that long. I’m a bit stubborn and get on with it as I call it. Anyhow, that was Edgecliff. Then we went down to Double Bay. That’s where I lost me sight, damn awkward, be about

1925, I think, or ’26. I couldn’t see enough to go to school so I didn’t go and I just went down to the wharf and the pier at Double Bay and I had an interest, that’s the main thing. I could get about and I’d walk up through the Cooper Gully, up to where we used to live up the top of this

gully at Bondi Junction, the old address, and you get noticed and people were friendly, “Hello,” and all that, you know. That’s that far and there, no school. Now what else? Bout 1927, Dad rented a place up at Blackheath for Mum and me.

I couldn’t go to school. That’s when I first met the Queen, in 1927, May I think, now something in your lifetime you know, Lovett’s Leap Road this and that, she spoke to us young people and I’d be about 10 then. So

they were good days. Everybody reckoned I was fortunate cause I didn’t go to school but I’d be lost cause I’d rather be like I am now, still doing and get about. Anyway, I learnt the mountains pretty well even though I couldn’t see too good, I didn’t trip over any bloody black snakes anyway.

No, I shouldn’t laugh but I can’t help it. I got up to things there you wouldn’t be in the race. Anyhow, that period went back to Double Bay and Mum was left some money from her mother’s will, couple o’ hundred quid. She put on a house through the Rural Bank and I come into it

later and helped pay it off and all that, 700, mighta been about 700 quid, three-bedroom brick house. Gee, wouldn’t it be handy now to get one for the young people. Oh yeah. That was, it’d be gettin’ into the ‘30s. That’s where I met Jim Dunshea, Wellington bloke. He comes our teacher,

sixth class. By that time I’d gone through other classes up to sixth class but battling a bit and he could see that I couldn’t see any good and he sits me in the front, even the blackboard, the chalk on it, I couldn’t even read the bloody thing. And he sits me with Bernie and he permitted us to converse and I’d listen to Bernie. Anyhow he come Dux and I come second,

so I was a good listener. But Jim Dunshea, he give me a new life, he really did. Wonderful. Two daughters. I met him after the war, Bankstown Bowling Club, we had a couple of drinks together. Oh no they, people were in your life, worked for memory. The old fella’s

up here in Wellington and no bugger knows him or heard of him. I had a couple o’ cousins live here; they were barbers. Dad’s other sister’s children from Northbridge, they moved up here early ‘30s. There’s a photo bloke give me a screen of paper the other day with me cousin Hedley on it, he’s on the

board up at the bowling club. You know, it puts you on the map a bit whether you’re known or not. A little dog, everybody knows the dog but they know I’m with it, so I get a bit of recognition. How far we go now?

Well in between time I had me sporting life, me

apprenticeship, knockin’ about …

OK, fair enough. Well, back to the war.

Yeah, well I enlisted in Martin Place, was attested at Millers Point Barracks and that night

went up to Darlinghurst Police Station, Dad was Sergeant there. “What did you do today?” I told him that I’d enlisted. I didn’t know the old bloke could swear, mad, said, “Your uncles went. They’ve never been looked after, knocked about,” all that, which is unfortunate, that time was only too bloody true. Anyway we went home to the flat,

144 Victoria Street, Potts Point, we had a flat there, twelve and six a week, beauty ‘ray. Anyhow, during the, I drank what we had there. It wasn’t much. We didn’t bottle much. He wasn’t a boozer and not to my knowledge anyway. Gettin’ away, he wakes me up durin’ the night, I was havin’

a bloody nightmare or bad dream, “What’s your trouble?” I said, “I dreamt I lost this leg at the war and it felt that real.” And he said, “You still goin’?” Well I said, “You dream or reckon you got a Melbourne Cup winner, you don’t do too bloody good.” That’s what Dad and I were like, we were pretty good pals. Anyhow, that

was that part of it, I’d enlisted. Then I went to Greta Camp, 2/5th AGH [Australian General Hospital], general duties. I thought, “I’m not gonna see much blood and guts here cause I’m not a doctor.” so I transferred into AAMC [Australian Army Medical Corps] Reinforcement 6th Div [Division], sailed away with them end of August ’40. In the meantime, there was the send-offs and this and that,

meetin’ people, then I get to the Middle East, 2/2nd Field Ambulance, and I went into action first with them but I’d be detached from the ambulance to other units in the 6th Division, mostly forward troops, extra bloke with the doctors in the

ADS [Advanced Dressing Station]. Oh gee, I nearly had his name then but the first one was Bill Refshauge 2/5th Infantry Battalion. He was a good bloke. His son now is about here, no at…. Anyhow, gettin’ away from that, bit o’ action a couple of days and did what I was supposed to do. I

went into action on the 3rd of January with the 2/1st Engineers. Bangalore torpedo busted up the wire, filled in some of the anti-tank ditch, next thing we were in business. Anyhow, durin’ Bardia I was doin’ what I was supposed to be doin’, looking after

people and all that, and later in the afternoon, I’m not just sure whether it’s the first day or the second, I was with the 2/3rd Battalion, A Company, but in the meantime I’d seen Hergenhan, Harry Hergenhan, at Amiriya before we moved up the desert, and we were both Botany Harriers together, and Harry was the cross-country

10,000 metres champion. Oh dear, he’s thrown a bomb at these bloody tanks comin’ up and caught in a gas mask and buggered him up. Anyhow, years later back to Botany, there’s a Harry Hergenhan 2-mile and I won it, big trophy, yeah, bout 1945. Harry

Hergenhan, bloke’s worth remembering. This is too…

You can’t undo what’s done; you can’t undo that. Anyhow, I wrote a letter to Dad, five pages I think,

and Frank Hurley who was there with his caravan at that time, second or third day, I know it was, after Harry copped it and he censored that letter for me. Frank Hurley, photographer, hardy type, his history goes back into Antarctica, that’s

right, wonderful bloke, and I read the letter again after I got back, Dad had kept it, and all that he’d cut out was the figures that I put in killed and wounded. So the rest of the letter was pretty ‘boom-boom’. Oh yeah.

Right. You don’t want the detail of the desert?

Anyhow, I had about six weeks after that action and went to Greece and Crete. Greece wasn’t a month

even, Crete five weeks. Where’d we go now?

Back to Palestine and then I applied to go to a school, chiropody school, which I passed pretty well, Corporal, gee. Major,

I’ll think of his name after, somehow. Anyhow, I got attached to the 2/2nd Battalion and at that time they were at El Arish and then I stayed with them consistently as attached until Ceylon and they transferred me, cause it suited me too,

into the GRs, General Reconnaissance Platoon, and I’d be attached to these blokes and we’d do a bit of wanderin’ round, you know, this and that, better not go into detail, GRs. After that? That was…

Oh yeah, we come back

early August ’42. It was about the time the [HMAS] Canberra got sunk. We heard it there before I went on leave, and Jack was Mum’s second husband. I still had Dad but Jack Strahan, double 12, double 8, he got killed on the Canberra. He went down in it, boom-boom. That’s,

anyhow, this is before we got to New Guinea. In the meantime, we got up there, started on the Kokoda Track bout the 4th of October ’42. First real action was the 20th, Templeton’s Crossing.

Anyhow, Fergie in the meantime, I B Ferguson, company commander, anyhow, we were attacking and blokes got knocked about a bit and took me, well, I couldn’t evacuate ’em, I stuck with ’em. Me company pulled back a bit and I’m stuck out there in between them and the bloody enemy, overnight, rainin’ and Christ

knows what. Mr Christ didn’t know. Anyhow, only one bloke died, George Steel; George Campbell, he done a leg, I think it was this one. Too long in between being wounded and getting’ him evacuated to Myola, I think. That’s all right, that was that part. Anyhow, further along the track, more accidents and troubles and

skittling them, as I call it, and I got wounded at Oivi, that’s 10th of November. We’ve passed Kokoda and all that then. I was evacuated. Fuzzy-Wuzzies run me back part of the night, MDS [Main Dressing Station], these two doctors looked after me, I think they got killed when the Japs bombed Soputa, not real

sure about that, 4th Field Ambulance I think. Anyhow, I got evacuated back and safe and sound in Moresby. That’s about the end of me war as far as action’s concerned, other than recovering, goin’ back to the unit, retraining blokes for a while, then I got discharged after wound started to play up a bit. Haemorrhage

in me kidneys and all that sort of thing and I got discharged about the 13th of March 1944. That’d be my war. It wasn’t too bad. Plenty worse off than me.

Afterwards, well nobody wanted to employ me as a serviceman that had been knocked about, to put it frankly.

So I started me own show in my hospital bed in Uralla and got a bit a gear together, little generator. Then I started me electro-plating, that was me trade, and chemical engineering, and I just kicked on with that until, I think I retired about 1960, so I had a fair lash at

that. Takin’ it easy I’ve been. But I’ve reared me family and it was lovely to have ’em here the other day and the additions are gettin’ grrrrr. Now what’s next?

Oh good, yeah. I think I’d better nibble at this.

Gee, I’ve been goin’ that quiet I forgot to drink this thing.

I’m a bit excited.

No, I don’t usually let meself go like that.

No, don’t give in.

Oh good.

Friendly. Common sense and bein’ a policeman’s son, I don’t think that done me any harm put it morally, you know, I didn’t get mixed up with wrong troubles.

I didn’t bother because I couldn’t see enough. No football, no cricket,

boom-boom.

No, only until it caught up with me. Where was we livin’? I think at Double Bay bout 1924 to 25, somethin’ like that. Dad took me - he’d done some jobs for Dr Shepherd, eye specialist,

Manning Road, Double Bay - and he took me down to see him. They put me into the Woolloomooloo Eye Hospital, part of Sydney Hospital, for a while. There are two brothers, Drs North, and they helped me a lot but they couldn’t do anything about it.

Keratitis, hereditary, bang bang. Blood

thing.

Not at that time, no, no. About 70 years later, I seen Frank Bors, different world. No, it’s given me a different life it really has, given me a reason; it was a bugger. You grew up with it feeling, doin’ things I’d be, I used to do little things, make a wheelbarrow, but I’d be hittin’ the wrong nails

all the time, no kiddin’. But I’d still have a go, that’s the main thing, and I’d help Mum cookin’ cakes and biscuits and all this. No, I was occupied; I’d a bit to do.

I just grew up with it, that’s all, I grew up with it, you’re not, I didn’t know

I was different to anyone else; I just didn’t give in to it, that’s it.

Foot running and wrestling. That’s different, didn’t need eyes.

Early ‘30s, I think. I think well away from school cause

I had time, at the oval, at Belmore Oval, and I used to go down there after school and just run round and round and round. I’d lose track.

But I was away from traffic; that was the main thing.

Oh, 1932 to 30, something like that. I’d be 15.

Oh that’s something too. I started working, that was me second job I think, Bennett and Wood’s Motorbikes. Anyhow, I get me licence behind Sydney Hospital practicin’ up and down Pitt Street and Castlereagh Street, missin’ the trams.

That sounds funny, bloody near blind. Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. But it shocks you when you look back how fortunate it was that you got away with things like that, you know.

Yeah, yeah.

I listened pretty good.

Well I was, try hard. Well, I had nothin’ else to distract me.

Geography mainly, travel. Any photo a returned soldier teached, I couldn’t hear more. They were great. Bill Thompson in

particular, W.A. Thompson. No, they were worthwhile.

Yeah, that’s right. Yeah, well they’d explain to me and I’d ask questions. Like Shaw, I think, in 5A, I had come top of the class and he got me to lecture the other children, the idea of lookin’ after snakes and all this, you know.

No, when you look back, it’s something unusual perhaps but I had a different life from the average boy playin’ footy or cricket and all that, you know. I had a couple of goes at football but the bloody ball would hit me before I’d see it, sounds funny to say that. So cheers, business here.

You distracted me.

Didn’t hurt a bit. No, I’m interrupting you, I’m sorry about that.

I’d look for more. Me Uncle Jim, he come back, Boggabri bloke, Mum’s youngest brother. He was still in the pouch when his father died, old Frank, and he’d explain to me and we were good pals and we’d build things together, like a billy-cart or some damn thing or he’d beat out an old copper

to make something from it; and I’m learning from me uncles. Me Uncle Fred, something similar, Boggabri, Mum’s elder brother, Fred Dedra, good old bugger. No, I was fortunate, both Mum’s and Dad’s brothers and sisters understood me and I couldn’t make a mistake, they wouldn’t let me. That was good; it was a good thing

when I look back now, yeah.

No. Well no, Dad had a steady job. Then Mum married again; Jack had a steady job. I had me own apprenticeship from ’34 to ’39. When I finished

me apprenticeship I said, “Oh bugger that,” you know. So I started knockin’ round the bush.

Electro-plating, chemical engineering.

Number 8, I think, Eveleigh Street, Redfern. Silver Bright Electro-Plating, Lou Goldstein. He wasn’t a bad bloke but he was

there for business and he used me up, no kiddin’, because I was keen and I was learning. In fact I was talkin’ about it only two days ago. These sheets of copper, bout quarter of an inch thick, three by three, they’d take up a bit o’ weight you know, and I’d plate them, heavy silver plate. They were for the gold mines up in New Guinea and they’d put

an amalgam on ’em of mercury and run the water over it to catch the gold. Now this is all knowledge, it was to me.

Well, it was just a job at the time. I was out o’ work, I’d had a couple of jobs: bakelite moulding, motorbikes, Harleys,

BSAs [Birmingham Small Arms – motorbike]. And I’d get there seventeen and six a week. I was gradually gaining from two bob a day, once upon a time when I first started work, two bob a day, and often I wouldn’t get two days bloody work. It sounds ridiculous now and you exist but you manage. But if I couldn’t save threepence,

life wasn’t nothin’ good. Anyhow, I was talking about Dad, back to Double Bay. Eyes crook, I used to save me threepences instead of goin’ to the pictures; it was threepence in, a penny to spend. Anyhow, I’d saved up about a quid. I had a container, empty, of some sort of tin thing you seal up

with a sealed end or two too. And I let Dad know that I had a quid, he said, “You wouldn’t be able to look after it,” so he borrows it. After a couple a years, I got it back with interest. He’s a bugger to punt. That’s something and just humorous.

No, no, no. Wasn’t in the race.

I’d hear ’em

but I couldn’t see ’em. Then me hearin’ started playin’ up on me so that’s, I said, “It’s a waste of time.” It was only sixpence in too. Things are crook, a bit dearer now, aren’t they? I haven’t been to the pictures in that long.

On me own. Double Bay. They were way up near the Cross, a road of Cross Street and

Manning Road, the picture show was there, Old South Head, New South Head Road, down from where we lived before that. I knew me way around because I had nothin’ else to do but get around, you know, here and there, up through the gullies, and I wouldn’t do it now. No, no, and I won’t go into details about Sydney last year. Lost.

No, I go there if I got to.

Dancing?

Na. No, I was more interested

in goin’ for a walk or bush-walking or running or rock climbing, anything. I could see bloody rock climbing. They’re that far away, oh yeah, I was pretty fair at that and the walking and the, well what’d I used to walk? Crikey, distance I’d run. Never give in cause I had nothing

else to do.

No. When I first, now you just mentioned about that, this apprenticeship, Saturdays, if I wasn’t workin’ overtime for an extra two bob that I’d save, which I might still have – it’s a pretty keen old game, but waste not want not. Mum was a

wonderful old goer. But now, where was I? I’ve interrupted meself talking about Mum. She’s there, up there.

Yeah. Well I’d get on the pushbike, twenty-seven and six a week. I rebuilt it up; new tyres, tubes, everything reliable, and I’d ride from Bankstown to Rose Bay.

Dad was stayin’ out there at the time with his work from Darlo, or Darlinghurst, and I’d have a swim in the baths at Rose Bay and they had a good tower there that suited me and I’d dive and do this and that, swim underwater and I’d relax. Then on the pushbike then I’d ride back

home, well, I’d be home about 1 or 2 o’clock. Then I’d run from there out to Georges River, Beauty Point they called it, and I’d swim across the river, come back, run home again. That’s when I first started and it sort o’ got me interested. Old Stan McAllister, he noticed, he’s a South Sydney runner, not much

older but. He’d call for me of an evening and we’d go for a run and we’d get along. Anyhow, it got to the stage where I could run a distance with his, well, encouragement, you’d have an idea you’re

gettin’ somewhere. Anyhow, Aunty Ethel, that’s Hedley’s mother, the one I mentioned that was here, the bowls, she had a place in Dowling Street opposite Moore Park, so we’d go down there Sunday mornings and we’d run over the Empire Games course. I thought, “Well if I can do that, I’m gonna have another go at it.” So the next year I did

and I made fourth in the state team. So there’s a fair bit of running and time and I had the time to do it. But after the war - hand that over if you wouldn’t mind, this is part of, that’s part of what I’d call me gettin’ better.

No, it’s handy to have these things. Not that I had that specially for that but the other side is me, one o’ me younger brothers bushwalking. Not all this gear the buggers carry now, they’re mad, load ’emselves up too much,

like you don’t need. The army teach you what you can do without, no kiddin’. And those 39th Battalion. You heard of them? Full marks. I got a bit of gear on ’em here. These blokes are 17, 18 when I knew ’em. I was an old man; I was 25.

And they sent me up this what’s-a-name family group, all grey-headed old men in their bloody ’80s and they’d start to reconcile or to me it is now that this did happen. Now back to interrupt again.

To me there wasn’t a Depression.

Cause I was willing and got a job, twelve and six a week, the first job. You can laugh your bloody head off about this.

I used to knot up sheep’s’ intestines into long skeins and make shearin’ machine cables out of ’em, that was the first job, and it was something pretty interesting. Vestey’s, I think, owned the place. Anyhow that

job cut out. Twelve and six a week. Now I think I got a job with Bennett and Woods then, Joe Mostyn, Wentworth Avenue, motorbikes: Harleys, BSAs. Repairs, learning, unpacking them and meetin’ blokes. Now that was an education. Minogue, and I’ll think o’ their names

in a minute, it doesn’t matter their names now, they wouldn’t know, I don’t think one bloke, he’d, Bill, Bill, Bill. That’s funny, he’s a good bloke and he taught me a lot without pulling the motor to bits explain it. Gee funny, it’s a coincidence. During the war, Dad at

Kogarah, he’d been transferred up there and he went and boarded at his bloody home. Dear, what’s his name? Where’s Dad? I can’t ask the bugger. I had him here last Sunday week, the 30th, 1886 job. Grrrr. Oh, what a wise old man, no kiddin’. He introduced me to Tom Blamey in the first place

and when I met Tom in the Middle East he recognised me and I didn’t know. I’m there with a bloody thousand or so other blokes, mighta been two or three, I’m buggered if I know whether a divisional parade or not, and he picked me out as old Bill Devine’s son. Oh dear, I was a marked man. No,

I hadn’t thought o’ that. You better not go. The bloody dog come in from nowhere on the parade ground. Anyhow, he cocked his leg on Tom’s boot. Tom’s goin’ out, whoop, whoop, da-da, dog.

Palestine. Palestine, be late 1940. No,

I dunno when it was, ’40 or ’41. No it couldn’t ‘a’ been, I did a big bush with that now. Recollect notes and specialties I hadn’t thought of for a while. But he was a delightful man, wise old bloke, no kiddin’. Yeah. But Curtin made a mistake puttin’ that bloody Yank bastard in,

over in charge of all of our troops.

Oh, that’s the bugger, that’s the bugger. He’s weak as piss. No I mean that. Only time I seen him was when we started on the Kokoda Track. He got that far.

Yeah, I’m a bit ahead of myself.

You want that earlier.

I’m sorry, I was diverting.

Now what?

She’s up here somewhere. Have a look here.

I got better photos of her, not really, but they’re similar with her and Dad on their wedding day, 1914, great. Now what, I’m wandering round like a silly bugger.

Oh there, in that tin thing, a lot a photographs of me life, you know, this and that. Dad and Mum married.

Always. Even after the divorce they were good pals. But I could bring em together, I don’t know how, but might a been something that they were both lookin’ after me. No. This is something. Better drink this, so I don’t get distracted.

No, but here’s Mum’s birthday, 15th of August 1940. Dad found that diamond, I was with him up at Tingha, 1938. We found a few other diamonds too incidentally. But that’s the only thing I’ve still got that Mum and Dad can jointly,

it’s her birthday, 15th of August ’40. My send off, boom-boom.

And at the end of the bloody war it was her birthday again, in ’45. No, this is how…you can’t count can ya? Or you can count but you can’t imagine that this consecutively

is a purpose.

I had one elder sister and she was a good girl, only the best. She’d come to the front gate; I’d sleep on the front veranda. She’d rattle the gate so I could piss the other bastards off that brought her home. Anyhow, she didn’t marry any of them.

Anyway, the bloke she got married to, he got me me first job on this sheep’s’ guts, Arthur. Couple of sons. Now I’m wandering a bit. Gettin’ back to those days, they were worthwhile. We’d bike ride together. I didn’t always, he didn’t run but we’d bike ride together.

Push bike.

We’d put in the day, we’d go down to Wollongong and back or some other place, up Bulli Pass and not, like we used to call it in Crete, yeah, that one.

I’m ramming this. Jumped round out o’ the gun a bit.

I didn’t mean to distract you that time.

Oh definitely, on my own.

Well, I couldn’t see any good. No bugger wanted me. Well, I didn’t mix in the team. No that’s quite, when I look

back. Now, what you just said, “Why?” Excuse me. It isn’t that I’m meant to do that, I had no intention of being that, but this happened as it happened. On me own at school. Do all right. Different life, policeman’s son, indirectly protected

from scallywags. Getting’ away from being concise about that, what are you really lookin’ for there?

I couldn’t guess what sort of

a no-hoper I’d turn out to be. But fortunately, I don’t think I did. But I think back to bein’ fortunate and I got it written down here, different blokes I met helped me on the right track. Now he was understood and me little devil could ease, they could, I had to overcome but

I could trust them. That was a big thing. Not like now with these, worse than that people.

What’s that?

Well they were there, I didn’t look for their assistance but they’d give it.

Whether I looked for it or not, trade work,

knockin’ about, sport bikes. I’d have trouble with me bike, me brother-in-law would help me. I didn’t even know how to fix up a bloody tyre, a puncture. But you get out between Barcaldine and Longreach or between here and Barcaldine if you know where it is, half way the other side of Queensland. No, it’s in the middle.

You had to be self-sufficient. And this is what I learnt to do, knockin’ around on me own. The only mistake o’ mine was lettin’ Dad mind me money for me. I got a, have a shot o’ the old bugger. I hope he can hear me and laugh. He’s over there. I’ll

bring him over, it’ll only take a sec [second].

Oh dear old Dad and he’s a dear old Dad.

Wonderful person. Good policeman, good common sense, good companion, no nonsense. I

remember one night we were down Alexandria. He was renting a room off Mrs Bell, nearly had the name of the street then, shit. I’d come down while I was apprentice and I’d wait for him at the police station, and on the way home this bloke attacked Dad. So at that time was wrestling pretty

well, down, downski, boom-boom. Crikey. I was winnin’ the war on me own then, before the war started even. No, the things that near McKell Park near Alexandria, if you know. Oh, you beaut. You could be in worse trouble couldn’t ya?

Dad was six foot and this bloke was accosting him, would call it politely. Anyhow, I done the bloke over. That was that.

I didn’t fight. I was never a fighter. Couldn’t see to box. You need good eyes. Wrestling, get hold of em, grrrrr, they’re goneski. Grace Brothers gym, Arthur

Ford that I mentioned earlier. That’s starting to fit in, Arthur Ford and another bloke, he was boxing and wrestling, butcher up North Shore. Gee, now and again I can’t think. But his younger brother, I had to wrestle him. I’m glad he grew up a bit bigger so he went out o’ my division,

he was like bloody spring steel, he was a bugger. Nearly had his name.

No, I didn’t come good, I was good, cause I had a good instructor. Yeah, couldn’t have had better. Arthur Ford and his twin brother,

Bert. They were dinky-di twins. This is in the ‘20s. They’d take it in turns to win a title and then the state title but Arthur was the best, he went to the Olympics and he was my instructor. Couldn’t have had better.

I got a little bit. No, but these blokes, no, what I mentioned earlier, I’ve been fortunate that people helped me or noticed I was good enough to be, you know, kicked along a bit. But I didn’t get anything under me bloody bat; I had to earn it. No kiddin’ about that. I never had anything for nothin’ in me life,

I don’t think. Don’t remember.

Only lately. Well, they’re no good to me. I couldn’t get anything to help me. Sight wasn’t there, no corneas, no this and that, you know.

I wouldn’t be in that, brrrr. I could manage. It’s funny when I enlisted. I met this bloke in Martin Place so we decided to enlist, 22nd of May 1940. I said, “Well, I’ll go with you so, you know, do this.” I’d just come down

from the sheds in Queensland, I’d been shearin’ and muckin’ about, or learning. And I get hold o’ this when I start talkin’ and I can’t think of his name. Anyhow, we went down and got it tested, then they told us they’d send us a letter. In the meantime, I went to the pictures, seen The Grapes of Wrath. I can remember that.

And this bloke, he finished up in the air force. I don’t know how or what he finished up, this is the part that doesn’t bother me, but he can’t undo what’s done back to that. Gee whiz, I’m gettin’ a bit serious here. I can’t even remember his name.

Anyhow every night I went and seen me father and lost me leg.

In the jeep.

I thought I’d told Shane earlier.

The day I enlisted, I didn’t know that mornin’ I was going to enlist. I went

into a tin shed in Martin Place and instead of a pee house [urinal] it was a bloody, you got signed into something. I still go there cause Martin Place is underground; no more tin sheds. But Uncle Jack or Uncle Jim and Jack are there. I was there a month or so ago. That’s how I got this broken collarbone. Anyhow, that’s changin’ the subject again.

It just happened. No, it just happened. You do things spur of the moment. I thought, well, one o’ me younger brothers, he’d done six years’ army service but he didn’t look like enlisting. I think the sheila kept him, you know, and now they’re both

dead. That’s for them. Now we signed up and go down to Millers Point and, fact I’ve said earlier, which I won’t repeat, with Dad and we drunk what we had in sight, which wasn’t bloody much those days.

Well, he disagreed with

it. Told me how stupid I was in language that I’d never heard him use.

Well, Mum was a pretty gentle old darlin’ and that time she’s married again. Not that that had anything to do with me that way, but we were good mates, lived in the same home. Yeah, she was a good Mum.

Well, she was divorced and she met a bloke and they got along so….

I know all about that. That’s different history. That’s not for everybody.

Had no

idea. I didn’t know, I just enlisted like a bloody lunatic, no, really stupid, spur of the moment, I never had a guess. Millers Point, been there many times since, the Garrison Church. In fact, I’ve carried the flag in a couple o’ years ago, but that’s a different story. But the 1st

Battalion, our brigade, that’s our church, the Garrison Church, and over the road the dear old Waterloo. You ever heard of that? That’s our old bush walkers one. Now we’ve changed the subject again.

I got called up into Greta camp, 2/5th AGH, general duties. I didn’t know

what that meant, didn’t have a clue. See bloke from Moree put me on the track a bit but I didn’t want to be lookin’ after some other bugger at the tables. That’s funny, Bill Morrison, I bumped into him, old bloke or not an old bloke, I met him later on on the Penland going over to Greece and he, oh great. “How ya goin’?” I

still remember him, he looks at me as if I was a ghost, he thought I got killed at Bardia, Bill Morrison. Where these names come from? Action.

Marlene - back to the Arabic – Marlene, bring on the dancing girls. Not you, you’re special.

You heard that

before?

So I can see you smile, that helps a bit.

No, I didn’t try at all; I didn’t have to. I got measles while I was on leave the first weekend

and then when I went back they put me in a bathtub, what’s that purple pinkish stuff? You’ve got to learn some things, darlin’. It’s like musk lolly colour. Anyhow, they bathed me in that. They kept me in that for a

while, I was red raw. Bloody measles all joined up. Thought, “Bugger this.” That’s where Bill Morrison, good boy, and I got a transfer to the AAMC Reinforcements, 6th Division. From then on, carry on with the war.

Training?

You talkin’ about training? Four years in the army, the only trainin’ I done was bloody bayonet fightin’ in Ceylon.

What for? Didn’t need it.

All I had to do was, no, it’s hard to explain. I dunno. No, this is easy, I can laugh. It’s too bloody ridiculous. It’s that easy. AAMC assist all me comrades. They get knocked arse over head, all I had to do was bandage them up if I had the bandages. And a lot a the time I didn’t have

the bloody bandages. But they had their little packet with them, you know. And some o’ them little packets weren’t big enough to cover up the bloody holes that got made. Phil Macindoe, this is at Inimi, after Tobruk between there and Derna, bout the end of January 1941,

and Phil Macindoe, he was our medical officer of this 2/2nd Field Ambulance. I used to teach him how to use his bloody automatic and he’d teach me to do a bloody post-mortem. No, it helped me

later on this way. A bloke gets shot or something, he gets into you, you’ve got to know what might be happenin’ inside before you start to arse about shiftin’ ’em.

Phil Macindoe. Post-mortems.

Definitely none, didn’t have time. We

left the end of April, end of August ’40, Aquitania.

Well I can remember, three other blokes, we shared a cabin, imagine that: Arthur Booth, Bill Boyle, Leo Cleary, the West Aust [Western Australian] one, but the other two, Field Ambulance blokes from Rockdale. We hit it off all right.

No smoking, no drinking. We didn’t know anything about it then, couldn’t afford it.

No, it’s only when you’re on five bob a day or whatever it was.

Had no idea. It was a guessin’ game, darlin’. I’m not

kiddin’. No, I had no idea but done some police work, you know, little bits on the nasty parts, I call it. We never ever, I don’t recollect us. But these two buggers, Arthur Booth, Bill Boyle, Rockdale,

they had the knowledge and I’d listen. We shared the cabin, had nothin’ to do for a week or a month. How long would it take to get from here to Bombay? And as the bloody anchor chain went down, I looked round and here’s a bloke alongside me, Bruce Dobson, no, Bruce, Cessnock bloke,

we’d served our apprenticeship together, yeah. Now then, I’ve seen him first leave I had in Tel Aviv, you got your photo taken, so you’d sign your name and they’d send it to you and his name was in front of mine

and the next time I seen him, on the 20th of October ’40 on the Kokoda Track, and I’m just goin’ down these bloody hills, I can’t stretch that far, couple o’ thousand feet anyway. And here’s this bloke comin’ up the track, whiskers

on. I think he was with the 2/33rd Battalion, part of the 25th Brigade; Eather, Ken Eather’s brigade. And I see this bloke comin’ up, whiskers on, and these eyes. I thought, “Hello, Bruce.” Anyhow, bloody when I was goin’ down to see a bloke

down the bottom of the gully, this is near Templeton’s Crossing the day before, that day actually I took this tin o’ bacon down that I’d had from bloody Ceylon. So we shared breakfast. They had a fire goin’, which I couldn’t make. I could’ve but, you know, and we had the tin o’ bacon. Righto.

How can you forget things like? But here are you buggers stirrin’ up, boom-boom.

Not very nice.

No, I was very fortunate. Back to this, Dad introduced or let know, gee, I nearly had his name then, he was a bloody

decent bloke like Jack Chalmers, Albert Winter, I think. But anyhow, he’s the provost-marshal [commander of the Military Police] but he sent along a bloke, Mortimer, Lieutenant, northwest frontier, was there at me send-off dinner, and what an education. That’s how I finished up with the bloody Gurkhas, out o’ bloody Bombay up at

Deolali.

No, in Deolali.

Like goin’ up to Katoomba from Sydney. They were grand wrestlers. I had bit of a wrestle. I only had a week or so but

they were, what a troop. But they taught me a lot.

Three weeks ago. No, Dad’s birthday was the 30th of November, first I met about a dozen of me mates accidentally in town, we had a few, three blokes attacked me

and I used one o’ the Gurkha little things, I think he’s still in hospital. Now that’s changed the subject. This is now, not then.

Life it was preserving. Like just after

candlelight thing in Wellington last year, candlelight, and I determined to go and see it without havin’ a beer. So I didn’t have a deener [shilling] in me pocket, or two bob [shillings], whatever, and on the way Denise, “Hi. All right? What are you doin’?” and she gives me $20.

I went to the pub, had a couple, then went to the candlelight, and coming home I’ve got me wheelie, like three-wheel thing help you walk about somewhere, and the police, “How ya going? You want a lift home?” I said, “No, I’m right.” I was goin’ round a mate’s place. Anyhow, they took me round to me mate’s place and none of us could find

the bloody way. Now I get mixed up. Anyhow, the police car driver, his uncle I knew in Kokoda with the 39th Battalion. You ever heard of the 39th? Here’s to them, boom-boom. They’re number one, number one,

crikey. No, to have lived and been with them and had ’em and how fortunate we were that when we disbanded the unit, we add ’em to my company in the 2/2nd Infantry up at Wondecla. Gee whiz, I’d better brighten up. You might have a little due. Now what have I done?

I’m buggered if I do

or not. Looks like it.

Marlene, don’t distract me, I’m tryin’ to get me tonsils in order.

What about?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

It rained like buggery. We were in the sports ground or whatever

they had and we had these big biscuits to sleep on and they were two foot under water. Anyhow, gettin’ back to this. Gee, I nearly had his name. Mortimer, Lieutenant, Indian Army, northwest frontier. He’d arranged for me to get picked up in Bombay to go up with the Gurkhas,

wrestling and, you know, bit o’ sport and common sense didn’t do any harm so far, so.

We come back to Bombay and we got the President Dumas over to Suez. That was French motor ship, and on the ship,

Vic Makepeace, another Botany area javelin throwing champion. Anyhow, the bloody Ities [Italians] bombed the bloody ship, near misses, just enough to wet us. The only accident, what, casualty, there’s a provo [Provost – Military Police] bloke out o’ the 2/3rd, but he went down the stairs, silly bastard. He’d be in

more trouble under the ship. Anyhow I get to Suez, then Palestine and…

Mighta been exciting. I forget.

No, no that was the second ship, the first ship from Bombay,

that got us to Suez. Now what’s this second ship?

I finished up gettin’ distributed around and divisional and field ambulances and things.

Like at, like at

Bardia?

Getting’ shot at other than these bloody bombs, the buggers, no. That’s right, the bomber buggers on the Red Sea. No, that was at Bardia,

couple o’ days ago, bout how many, 43 years or 44, buggered if I know. No, I was with the 2/1st Engineers, I was attached to them through Bill Refshauge, 17th Brigade, but still the

2/1st were 16th Brigade. Anyhow, Bangalore torpedoes and the wire. Anyhow, we got through that far. What’s a name, nearly had his name then, he’s a doctor’s name, part similar. Anyhow, Marlene, back to that bit. Solve a problem.

Yeah, nothing real serious, I didn’t have a lot to do.

I dunno. It went too quick. How would you describe a day like that?

Buggered if I can describe it.

It went too quick.

two or three days in Bardia. No, there’s highlights here and there, little bit o’ this and that, bloke get donged and Harry getting skittled, that buggered me a….not, didn’t bugger, bit, not like now I mean.

Course I can,

Harry Hergenhan: cross-country 10,000 metres champion. To see him get skittled and I’d only been havin’ a yarn with him month or so before, Amiriya, before we moved up the desert. Looked him up, he’s in A Company. No, they’re worth remembering,

blokes like that. And I mentioned earlier about…

I couldn’t guess cause I didn’t know.

No. Never got, never mixed with ’em.

Cairo. Four days leave there. What, I got something here to laugh at. Yeah, four days leave, Madi. (UNCLEAR).

Spose I will. You’ll laugh. This ring. We were in a tram goin’ out to Madi. The girls notice it. One had a ring on with a red stone in and we got with ’em in the tram ride. They invited me to their place. Their father frowned about it a bit. They’re twins that he found.

Anyhow.

They invited me.

Oh no, not on that occasion, never stayed there a couple o’ hours. The old bloke, he’s shadowing me a bit, their father I mean.

Nothing serious.

You don’t do it in two minutes. I wasn’t that bloody good. No help.

No, I was fortunate to meet a nice family out at Madi. Anyhow, after Greece and Crete, I went out and visited them and I

stayed and I went back to the New Zealanders and I camped with them, what’s-a-name, Freyberg’s. No, wait on, I got 5th echelon, 5th Battery second echelon, got ’em, artillery.

I seen some in Greece. Good bloke, Nick, Nick, he’s in Christchurch now. We correspond now and again but he’s havin’ a bit o’ heart trouble, about my age, he’s havin’ troubles.

This is before?

Oh, up the desert. It was all good in a way. There wasn’t a lot o’ casualties. I didn’t have a lot to do. I just went along. Tobruk, bout this day, roughly, we start walking from bloody Bardia to Tobruk, that’s where I first met Ivan,

Ivan Dougherty, Sir Ivan now. His father Fred, what a bloke. We had, we didn’t have to but I just went cause I was detailed. He was from Moree. We go up this big gully to reorganise.

I think it was 18 Platoon D Company, 2/4th Battalion, and one of them I think was Vic Makepeace, back to the President Dumas and Botany javelin thrower state. Anyhow, these bloody, the only time I was under shellfire from the Ities, and they didn’t make a mistake about it.

They were playin’ buggery. Anyhow, I got a few rocks together and I said, “I’m gonna camp in here,” and Freeny, he had to get a lot more rocks cause he had a lot bigger bloody hole. That’s when I first met Tomlinson, Paul, good RMO [Regimental Medical Officer] for the 2/4th Battalion, and Ivan Dougherty, he was the

CO [Commanding Officer] there.

Now that was Tobruk, boom-boom. I met a few blokes there, done a bit of patchin’ up as I call it.

More bomb fragments at that time. It

wasn’t direct shots from the enemy.

I wouldn’t remove it, oh no, I just wrapped the buggers up. That was doctor’s job. No talkin’ about that. Phil Macindoe, I didn’t know was at that time, we had a few hours together afterwards but mainly

between Tobruk and Derna, we’d have a swim, he’d ask me questions. I said, well I’d show him how to use his revolver or automatic what he had; I forget what that was. Anyhow, he’d show me how to do post-mortems. Crikey, what an education.

Tri-caste spot valve and all that, you might’ve heard of em. Didn’t Phil laugh? He come from Strathfield, he was a doctor there. These blokes I should look up now but they’re probably, he did, some point of course, he shot through, you know. I shouldn’t talk like that. Gone upski.

No Phil Macindoe he was a...

What’s that?

I didn’t do any carrying, I just looked after ’em. The other blokes would carry ’em. Yeah, I had a little team there. I was only a private but only four blokes if they had to be carried.

Well that’s what I was there for, yeah, patch ’em up for.

Too bloody close.

Accidentally, I went to sleep one night in me sleeping bag, Itie [Italian] ground sheet, and in the mornin’ a truck had run over the foot of it. That’s about the closest call I had. And Qaminis up near Benghazi. The Arabs there, they were wonderful.

“Come in for coffee.” Next thing, I’m underground with the buggers. What people.

I think they’d tunnelled ’em out over the years, a long while. They lived underground.

They spoilt me. I’m crawlin’ along

drinkin’ coffee. I’d like to get some more coffee like that, I’m not kiddin’. And then I finished up at Qaminis. No, Mersa Brega. Mersa Brega, 2/5th Battalion. And Jimmy was there, Jimmy Bale, NWX1750, good mate. Before I went to this bloody Cairo thing in

November, we heard it was gonna happen so we shaved one another’s bloody heads and Jimmy said, “That’s not good enough.” He wanted me to do it again. So I did it again. The next thing, there’s a lot o’ red spots so I put a triangular bandage on him with some of that yellow stuff. Anyhow, Jimmy was there,

he got a DCM [Distinguished Conduct Medal] later. He got shot in the guts, bullet come out his arsehole, DCM, two incidentally. Doc McPherson. That was about early March, I dunno the day, early March ’41.

I got pulled back from there to Mersa Matruh, then Greece and Crete and that. That’s about the desert thing.

Oh no, there’s another nasty one. Shit. I’m sorry. Bloke named Boyd, there’s two brothers in the 2/4th Battalion.

You know, the valley the other side south of Mt Vic [Mt Victoria], there’s a valley.

You know the mountains?

Up the bloody gully here, Megalong, the next one. There’s Jamieson, Megalong and this other

one. Not Kanangra, there’s another one.

Well it’s a bit of a walk down from Mount Vic. One of ’em come from there, a good boxer. One o’ them awkward days. I’ll have to excuse meself. With the,

I’m not sure o’ the other bloke’s name. Anyhow, this is nighttime, Ities are droppin’ some bombs and we seen one with a parachute on and thought, “Oh you beaut.” We thought we had a bloke and it was a bloody bomb and it lands outside the bloody hospital in Benghazi.

I dunno, not sure o’ the date. Anyhow, these two blokes out o’ the 2/4th Battalion were on guard to stop people away from. What ridiculous stupid idiot? No, honestly, I went and had a look but I thought I’d keep me distance and I had me room up – where would I be?

Hospital’s here, road, bomb there, I’m up there, second floor, had me bed, had everything set up. Shit. Have to think. No, don’t have to think, it’s happened.

This bomb disposal bloke come along, done bugger all. Anyhow, it didn’t matter about that because it went off and then the bomb went off and these two blokes (sound effect). One bloke, Boydy, hell of a bloody…that’s the part that hurts now. Couldn’t do anything about it, too bad,

you know.

Like Skinny at Templeton’s, similar way, but I’m there doin’ bugger all, but I had plenty else to do with others, but I’m not gettin’ away from that. Boyd, I can remember his surname, he came from south of Blackheath, you know, the valley,

towards Jenolan, the valley.

Well, Lithgow’s more to the right if you’re goin’ west. Tryin’ to think.

Oh yeah, they copped it. Oh yeah they’d had it. Had about….but I remember Boyd in particular, nearly cut ‘im in half.

No, the only time…. Oh well, Tobruk I helped a couple o’…that’s different, the little people, children.

‘Tween Tobruk and Derna, out on the, little children, they’d been picking up the Itie thermite bombs and bloody hands off and, oh shit.

Bloody idiots! And I mean that. That hurts.

(UNCLEAR) takin’ time between. You beaut. No, but these poor little buggers, only, I dunno, under 10 anyhow. They’d pick up these thermite bombs,

hand grenades, Itie, and (sound effect) lose their hands. Anyhow, I had a couple o’ days, I wouldn’t say a couple o’ days, spare. This is how it happened. There was an empty place there down near the wharf or whatever it was. I made a nice little room and I’d bathe ’em, you know, and get ’em

comfortable. I often wonder, they’d be picked up by older Arabs and used as beggars, I s’pose.

It was the simple things that, it isn’t fair. Poor buggers, excuse me, it’s the poor little beggars,

and only 60 years ago. Stop laughin’. I don’t mean that. No, I’m not goin’ far from that, I don’t mean that. I often wonder…they wouldn’t exist any more. Gaddafi and these other buggers are fuckin’ no-hopers. Talkin’ bout….

That’s a different story.

What’s that?

I’m not hearin’ you properly. What is it?

Too many. Templeton’s Crossing. Skinny, Skinny and George Steele and what’s a… shit, oh shit…Desmond Gidley King. How’s that sound?

This sergeant, I think it’s D Company, might a been 12th, and he’s well forward, Aub had been skittled, this bloke had been skittled, Reg Blow had been skittled. Anyhow, I went to pick this bugger up. He’s on his feet,

real fair bloke, Desmond Gidley King. Had the blood and guts blown inside and out of him. (UNCLEAR) did that.

This sergeant, Vince, Vince O’Day, no, I done what I could, but I went over, the medical officer had been trained, but I picked

up Des and he looked like a likely customer as I called ’em. Old Archie, one under the bloody hat…names. Bastard of a day. It was a bastard of a day. Awful Saturday mornin’.

Templeton’s Crossing. I better have a drink, I’m getting stupid.

OK, yeah. I jumped the gun a little bit didn’t I?

What sent me off on the wrong track there?

A whole lot of fun while we were on leave, three days’ leave, Beirut. Mighta been four without the one in Cairo, that’s another one.

Oh, the Beirut one. Yeah, I enjoyed that. I had seventeen pound Australian to spend and I went up to the,

they had an Australian Club up here at Beirut, and I’d looked after him somewhere in the desert, I’m not sure whether the 6th or 7th Battalion, out o’ the 17th Brigade. Anyhow, o’ course he looked after me a bit. Anyhow, they get down the town have a drink or two, met a young naval bloke, we palled up.

Next thing, without goin’ into detail about what was on the ship, I’m on this bloody sub [submarine] chaser. That’s what he was on. He was gonna give me, this is not that long after Crete, they give me a lift back to Crete so I could find some more o’ me mates. After a

while, the lieutenant commander or whoever was in charge noticed, and this is the silly fucker. “Oh dear, where’s he gone?” Laughing. I dive into torpedo tube to escape from ’em cause they had to return the ship into Beirut, get the provos out and tidy

up, and you never heard anything about it.

Well, I think at the time when I look back now, I was thinking only yesterday, mighta been the day before, I still had me army medical colour patches on, they wouldn’t know who I belonged to. But I was on leave

with a pass from the 2/2nd Infantry, no doubt about that cause before that pass I was lookin after P A, you heard o’ him, P A Cullen, major general? Same bloke. We weren’t supposed to walk around without our shoes on and he had a thorn in his bloody foot and he

comes to me to get it out and I was havin’ bloody trouble, couldn’t see too good, and this bloke comes along, three days’ leave to Beirut. ‘Chooong’, I was shot back. Coincidence. Influences.

Other than bein’ on this torpedo tube? Oh no, the sub chaser.

I never had time, wouldn’t even trust ’em. That old dollar o’ mine was pretty precious. Back to Bill what’s-your-name. I mentioned him earlier didn’t I? 5th AGH, Bill,

mentioned him earlier didn’t I?

I’m tryin’ to think. He kept me in this bloody pink bath after the measles thing. I just went all raw. Oh shit, I said.

Bill Morrison. Got it, got it, got it.

I had a look but that was enough, you’re not kiddin’. Blokes were mad.

Madness. No, you gotta have a bit o’, I dunno, self-control present. I remember when Dad was at Kogarah, he’d just gone back to

uniform. Trevor Vicks or something this bloke, special army bloke, and they shared part of a place and he reckoned I never had a bit o’ niggle while I was in the Middle East, but he hadn’t been there after all, oh no bloody fear, bugger. No, I’d seen too much o’ that and in Cairo,

in Trincomalee. I had a beer with students before that with the Sydney University, this is durin’ me apprenticeship, I went over to Sydney University, I had to do a bit of lookin’ for things with dead bodies, following a sciatic nerve or

some bloody thing. How that had anything to do with my training at that time, buggered if I know. You getting’ a pretty fair picture of my stupidity or accidents that happen?

What’s the good about goin’ over that ground? Can’t undo it, they’re dead, they’re dead, blokes I know. Yeah, Derna, Bardia, Benina. All the names.

Didn’t notice it. No I mean that.

Well, they didn’t hit me, how would I bloody know they were there? No, sounds silly, way I tell it. You got to ignore some things.

It’ll be like tomorrow; if I don’t die, I won’t know. I don’t mean that severely but I’m not in a bloody hurry. In fact, I got a block down here at Curra Creek when I’m not in a hurry to hop in the hole.

Be gettin’ near the end of March. Penland, I went over in the Penland, Bill Morrison, and I bumped into him in a passageway underneath and he, “Oh

Christ.” No, we were good pals. He’d heard that I had got killed at Bardia and he really went white, no kiddin’. I never seen a bloke go white with shock. Bill Morrison, 2/5th AGH.

Well I…

this got anything else in it?

That sounds serious doesn’t it? Pick it up, right. Oh no, we had no idea at all. I went over with the 2/2nd Field Ambulance as a contingent on the Penland. We got a

lift up near Larisa, near a train, after half a day’s leave in Alexandria, half a day’s leave in Athens. The only two half days’ leave I’d had from when I first started in action about the 7th of December ’40 until I got out the end of

May 1941. Six months. Not bad. No holes in me.

Lovely. Wonderful people. Fact I got a friend here in Wellington, he’s one of the islanders. Like I got some things in the fridge I’m gonna take down – you like zucchinis?

My Mum used to but. Gee, I nearly gonna put on a table, wasn’t there. No, in the back fridge there are three zucchinis, you would think they were cuttin’ off an elephant’s dick. No, you’re welcome and takin’ one down to Steve the

Greeko. If you like ’em, more welcome, and the little girl might like one. Is she laughin’ at me? Where is she?

You what?

Back to Greeko.

Half a day, half a day.

I got friendly with the locals.

I got a couple o’ empty onion bags I put over me head to keep the flies away. Where’s that little girl hidin’?

Marlene. That’s the front door corner.

I got ya.

Larisa, and then I was detached to go up to the Bulgarian border.

I don’t think they were in it by that time, I’m not sure what date it was. Anyhow, they had better weapons than I had.

Now what could I…as simple and simple as every bugger. Every bloke there, he had the same experience.

I was in a little bit of action up the other side of Brallos Gorge or some bloody name, oh Kozani, Kozani, Dhomokos. That’ll be interesting.

Lot o’ people laying around havin’ troubles. Max

Vries, 2/2nd Field Ambulance, A Company, another little bloke, he’s batman or whatever. At Dhomokos, we got a train going, engine, railway and we got it fuelled up, got some passengers on. One damn PO,

whatcha-ma-call-it and then we get so far and New Zealanders take the train off us, boom-boom. So that wasn’t serious, was it?

Well, we thought we were on the way home, where there’s a bloody ocean on the way,

train and so. No, we got the train going and moved a lot a people. I still don’t know what happened with that.

Whether the Germans finished up pickin’ em up.

Cut that word out, withdrawing.

I go with the apology. No retreat, that’d be the day.

No, I nearly heard that.

Yeah. I was well out in front.

No, no one told me anything but I thought, “Some bastard’s shifting away from behind me, I better keep kicking.” Up near the Bulgarian border, oh Jesus, I walked, it don’t matter how long, I finished up at Kalamata anyhow.

I got a lift here and

there, not much, but you get a lift and then them bloody bombers – what do you call em? – Stukas, they’d knock the bloody trucks off the road. And it was no good stayin’ in the vehicle; you’d get shot again.

One bloke in particular, Hughie, Hughie,

he’s 2nd, I think he was the RMO of the 2/1st Engineers. I don’t know how he got arse over head, but in the vehicle, anyhow he got skittled, couldn’t do anything about it. That was that other side of Lamia, now. Hughie, he

was, I think he was a Victorian, he was pretty strong with amateur athletics, not sure, but long while. Bloke worth remembering. I’m talking too much.

Things are crook, Tallarook. No work in Bourke.

Bugger all, here and there. The water bag is empty, the tucker bag has gone dry. And if in Crete, the air force be, but where the bloody hell were we? No, I think I’ve been drinking a bit.

Bout who?

Oh, wonderful people.

Are you gonna record it?

There goes King Farouk, pay your board (UNCLEAR) you and there goes Queen, right around the border like rider. (UNCLEAR). Boom-boom. How’s that?

Sounds awful.

Not worth singing about.

I don’t remember talkin’ about that.

Anyhow, I got it right. Harry the Bagman, 2/2nd Field Ambulance, fooshikoosh, that’s his nickname, he’s a gynaecologist. No, they, oh dear, Momma Russell, I think he had the 2/1st

Field Ambulance and OK at the 2/5th AGH. Gee, I oughta remember this bloke that put me through the chiropody thing. Anyhow, I used to tell him a lot o’ things, you know. Now where were we up to? What…?

I didn’t know this happened til years later.

No, no I’ll go into a bit o’ personal detail. I got involved with the Masonic Lodge so I was in the wrong bloody religious group but I didn’t give a bugger cause whoever God is, he’s on my side.

How’s that fix it? You an Allah job [Muslim]?

Are you an Allah job?

Allah.

You believe in what?

I got no religion. I just want to be left as I am and be there later. I got a book there,

the religion of the universe. Bang-bang, shoom-shoom. Don’t stop, love. I can see you smiling at me. No, but these blokes, religion and Father Freen was fair dinkum. I told you about him earlier didn’t I?

Near Tobruk. Oh,

Marlene, back to Arabic. Can understand Arabic a little bit. Marlene. ‘Ana muskin marfish fraloosh’. Run out o’ whisky, run out o’ beer. Jiggy, jiggy, jiggy, jig. Now, that’s not a way to talk in the company of women.

Might offend the young man.

‘Run out o’ whisky. Run out o’ beer. Jiggy jig jiggy jig cost a dear. Well, black bastard, we’ll with other King. Intercourse cost ya dear. Mongary bardin. Negro Queen’s fried, how the boys’d like a ride, and that old King Farouk with his balls

up on hook.’ Can you remember that?

Ya got the bloody thing recorded, have ya? Oh shit.

I’m gonna listen to this recording in my (UNCLEAR).

In Cairo? That was end o’ November 1940, the other day, her father order us, I didn’t have a chance.

How do you mean?

Four days from the pub, The Victoria Hotel.

Yeah, the bloody military police were draggin’ the River Nile for me. You ought ‘a’ seen ’em, I’d gone to other pubs, this is before I’d even got into action.

I just appeared at the pub and

there’s a photo here, me, that a bloke took. No, it’s not there, Marlene. This bloke showed her me photo and they thought I was a big husky Aussie instead o’ a tiny little no-hoper bloke. No, I got a photo that was taken then in that period, those days

I wasn’t missin’, I was quite happy, I was learnin’ to know the country.

Everything good to see in Cairo.

It was really interesting. I dunno, there’d be…how would I know?

Anyhow it was interesting, how’s that? Bloke named Carroll; he was supposed to be in charge of the leave part of it. Anyhow, we never seen him in action. He was a First War bloke, nice reliable fella. Cairo, November 1940 would ‘a’ been.

I sent a photo home to Mum, might be here somewhere.

Wonderful, then we had New Year’s Day 1941 up on, at Damascus overlooking

Damascus from the, you know. Then on the New Year’s Day we had gymkhana and I had me four cases of beer, bottles. And then I’m snowed in, then I had to get out and look after these fellas that had frostbitten feet and I didn’t know anything about bloody frostbitten feet.

I just got on with it, looked after ’em.

How would I bloody know, Marlene?

I had bugger all to bandage them up with. All I had to thaw their feet out, take their time and tell their company

commanders, “Leave em there.” That’s funny. Rishworth, he’s captain, and this bloody stupid bastard went for him with ‘is…anyhow, I better change now. It’s not good history; it’s history that you don’t have from the battalion.

I couldn’t. There’s nothin’ there to warm them with.

Massage, yeah, ankles down, and make sure the black went. It was only 40 of ’em or 60 of ’em, buggered if I know. No, funny when you look back, how it is that it just happened.

What’s that?

Fergie, I. B. Ferguson, good bloke, I. B.,

things named after him at, down ‘ere. Yeah. Well, you done what you did. I think I mighta done the washing earlier.

Oh we were just overlooking Damascus. Nothing serious.

No, no. We were havin’ a quiet period.

That’s the year before 1940.

Bug-bug. Bug-bug.

You heard that?

The Indians in the brigade or division when the Ities attacked into Egypt about that time. Shit, I gotta think back a bit. I wasn’t

involved in this, but the Indians coming in under Messervy. I’m tryin’ to think o’ the general bloke’s name. Not a bad bloke. Met him later and I had a couple o’ beers with him, but gettin’ away from that. Messervy, Indian Army, 6th Div I think, I’m not sure.

Yeah, they shifted the Ities out o’ the desert a bit then we followed them up, tidyin’ up. This bog-bug-bug-bug. Bog-bog. Bug-bug. Other side of Mersa Matruh. Have you heard of Mersa Matruh?

City browning. Bug-bug. Anyhow, there’s a lot o’ dead Ities about, so it’s gettin’ near Christmas Day, this is our job, havin’ tins o’ bully beef for Christmas, buryin’ the bloody dead Ities.

How would I know

what day it was?

Tell ya something. No, you do these things. Bug-bug. Bug-bug. Lot o’ dead Ities about. One bloke, major, I think, Italian army, we buried him and another bloody fella, bastard I mean, that Victorian,

he dug him up to take the rings off his finger so I hit him on the bloody head. Now, don’t do that to your own army do ya, but I did. He was only a corporal. You don’t do things like that. When you’re dead, you’re dead; you’ve left. What have I done here?

Yeah, I have a bit of trouble.

MacArthur, I think his name. Anyhow, Bill Lempriere caught up with him doin’ that so he give him field punishment. Dig a square hole, square three by six was it? Anyhow, some blokes you can forget.

No, you don’t desecrate the dead. You bury ’em or else.

Yeah. I got something here for you. Can I get it out of here?

You can go and get it.

No, you’re not tied up. I’m tied up or what. (interruption)

Yeah. That what you want to know about?

No, no, leave them there. I can see the buggers from ‘ere so you don’t knock ’em off.

Different parts of Libya. This is between January and February 1941. Boom-boom. Souvenirs.

That’s machine

gun.

Italian army. This is a different one. I dunno what it is either.

Buggered if I can remember.

No, I can only remember some things. I’m quite honest about that.

I can only remember some things.

Yeah, they’re like they wear our colour patches or distinguishing badges on their uniform.

Well they might be shoulders, I dunno.

How would I remember?

Well, I was fortunate enough to send them home to me mother in a little packet and I’ve still got them.

How would I bloody know? What do you do when you pick up

souvenirs?

That’d be the day. No I got them; they’re laying around but not in the desert, not by the Arabs. Might not be anywhere, but they were there and I sent them home to me mother as a bundle. It was about the only… And after gettin’ sunk at sea, which happened,

bushfires, burglaries, thieves breaking in and cleaning home up, that’s about the only, other than this ring, that’s all I got bloody left.

Never heard o’ luck, darlin’. I’d rather be fortunate, bugger luck. Which would you

rather?

You beaut. I like; we’ll get along.

I hope this isn’t buggered cause it’s tingling.

From near the

Bulgarian border.

That’s right.

Strafed.

Not bombed, just strafed in them Stuka things. They were weak; they were buggers.

They were pretty sincere; they definitely weren’t on our side.

Only one, one in Crete, he took me prisoner.

Then I told him in German that me father come from Drachhausen. Funny, and I said to Alf,

“Alf, I was gonna shift this bloke over in the shade,” young paratrooper bloke, he come from Drachhausen. No, he knew of…

Yeah, paratrooper.

No, he caught us.

Hey?

He’d taken us prisoners. Him and out on the edge of the Nile. He let us know – here or what’s your fellow? – Creties or some bloody thing. I forget what it meant.

No, I can’t. Paratrooper. We were liftin’ a bloke out, got donged leg thing, Bruce something. Now Alf, he’d whistle. He could hear it

and I could hear it but no-one else could hear it. Then the bloody Germans could hear us so they sent us company. So they, “Hold it,” boom-boom. No, it wasn’t as easy as that. Alf, anyhow, we were POWs [Prisoners of War] for five minutes.

No, I was just talkin’ to this young German fellow about Drachhausen.

Drachhausen, where me grandfather was born.

Southeast of Berlin.

Well, I might have a what’s-a-name, beer from one o’ these. Where’s that? In here. Me grandfather’s what’s-a-name might be. Anyhow, bloody Alf, the bugger. We’re gettin’ there and the young

fella, I said, “Hey look here, Alf, this is no good. They’re sitting out in the sun.” Bruce somebody on the stretcher, “We’ll shift you over in the shade.” And Bruce, I seen him in Tel Aviv two months later, he got there before us, and Alf got pinched again, died POW too.

Alfie, good mate.

Hegarty, he got pinched again. Now he’s a bit, you know, all good things not to be.

Now, you gotta get this right. The young bloke that pinched us, I interrogated him instead of interrogatin’ me as a POW. And I said to Alf, “We’ll shift this bloke over in the shade on the stretcher.”

And we kept bloody goin’. What a silly war.

I just left the bastard alone. He had nothin’ to do with me any more.

He give me reason to shift the bloke in the shade and we just kept going, the, bloody Bruce, the bloke on the stretcher. I seen him in Beirut, we had a beer later, couple o’ months. What a circus.

There was a bit of a lift on a – what do you call it? – them little ships they had. You hear of ’em?

Bigger than that. Eubbea

or something. You hear of ’em?

Euro, no, no, I mustn’t get emphatic. No, the ships. Iraklion? No that was in Crete. Buggered if I…I gotta think now. Getting out of there they give us a lift.

No, there was a couple o’ ships, little tiny ships.

You beaut. You beaut. What’s the name of them?

Heroine was one. Another one, H, I think it was H.

Anyhow they put us on the Costa Rica, you heard o’ them?

It got sunk. And then …

Not when it got sunk, just when it got hit. Bugger stone, I wouldn’t ‘a’ sunk. It’s no good for you.

What have I got here? Something here I had, just a while ago. There’s a bit o’ (UNCLEAR).

No, this is very serious.

I’m buggered if I know. I got to have a look. I got that much. What’s a name would know where it is. No,

something like that. It doesn’t matter, might matter.

Marlene. Goodness.

You don’t understand everything, do you? Oh dear,

laugh, I’m havin’ problems here, darlin’.

Isn’t it nice to be able to take your time.

That’s what Arthur, if all you say take your time and win. I’ll think o’ them other blokes’ name. This is in the ‘20s that I know

these buggers.

How long ago was that, 80, 90 years?

Arthur Ford. He’s worth remembering.

’24 to ’28 Games, Olympics, bantamweight, boom-boom. My instructor, boom-boom. Only let him down once,

Marlene. No, that’s cause of the Arabic, you know. Now what are you gonna tell me about?

The [HMS] Defender picked us up off Costa Rica. That’s what I was lookin’ for. There’s a photo here of it I’ll get,

I think I’ve got it.

Only for a minute.

I ought to bring the Horrie the Wog Dog. You heard of him?

No, no, I don’t have to go and empty that whatcha-ma-call-it.

No, I wanted to bring Horrie in.

Horrie the Wog Dog.

That’s little Horrie.

That’ll do.

19 what? 27th of March,

once upon a time.

Horrie’s the one.

No, it’s worth reading. If you’d like to read it, you’re allowed to borrow it as long as you do not fart arse about and not return it.

When you get time. You don’t get much time.

That’s what a

job’s about, you know.

See that?

That’s the best Mediterranean goin’ past. We were on the destroyer. We were winning.

No. Yeah, yeah, after Costa Rica.

To Crete.

That was later on. Took about another three weeks or so.

Nothing.

Now I had to find somewhere

where I could camp and that’s where I first, second time I seen Ivan. Heard of Ivan?

Ivan the old Dougherty, wonderful. I’d met him in this gully with the priest bloke, you know,

I mentioned earlier. I’m no better keep. But Ivan, he was in my opinion the man among men.

Cause he’s a good pal. Major-general in charge, never let you down,

wonderful man, and Lady Dorothy. Oh dear. I ring her up and say, “I can’t do anything about it, darlin.” 4 Leumeah Street, Cronulla, or something. Nothin’ to do with it. That’d be worth something in what you’re doing. You got that far?

A lady’s part of it is way in the background, in the background. I didn’t mean to, no, but Ivan’s widow now. That’d be worth followin’ up wouldn’t it, her story?

We only had about a half an hour together, first night, 2/4th Battalion, he was the CO, battalion commander. There’s a bloke lookin’

for me, “Tilly, where are ya?” I used to have a nickname I think, Tilly Devine. And this bloke from Orange he said, “You know Norm?” I said, “Of course I do, he’s your brother.” Anyhow, Ivan put up his big valise to give us a bit o’ room so we could all sleep together.

Now it was a bit cool there in those days, you know, but Ivan, Leadville, he come from, that’s up the track. There’re worse blokes. They were blokes worth knowing.

Made major-general, done a good job, done things he didn’t want to do.

Brigadier from Darwin up the Kokoda Track and, what do we call the other part on the north side?

No, no, pretty serious. Got to be right you know.

No, Ivan. Ivan,

a man among men, how’s that?

No, bloody hell, I’ve never heard o’ the bloody places.

Back to business.

Mates o’ mine, got mates so you have a nickname.

When I first joined the 2/2nd Field Ambulance, was a bloke a bit cheeky who was snack time, Bob Cross, good bloke, Victorian or…

“Who are you?” I said, “I’m Bill.” He said, “You’re gonna be Tilly Devine cause we’re expectin’ ya.” I hadn’t been in with them before but you get involved with another unit, they got to designate you so everybody knows ya.

That happened to you?

Anyhow, Bob Cross, still a good mate. He’s over South Oz [Australia] somewhere. No, I made a mistake West Oz. Yeah, I’m missing old…

no, Bob Cross, not a bad bloke, so.

What happened then?

After Ivan I had to sort meself out a bit.

Actually I was fortunate that the brigadier at that time, Vasey, George, ‘Bloody George’ give you a lift. Now I got a lift up to Neonkorian in Crete, half way, the middle.

Good old Bloody George. What a bloody nickname that, for a general. Anyhow, I met him there and then later on that day, before I got wounded at Oivi, he’s there with ‘is red cap on. I said, “Piss off, ya bastard,” I said. He give my position away,

wouldn’t ya reckon? Anyhow 24 hours later we were standing, they dropped a mortar bomb that got me. Bugger him.

In Oivi, outside New Guinea.

How come?

What’d I done in bloody Greece? Bugger all.

Bugger all. In Crete? Jimmy, old Jimmy, oh yes. Jimmy Hay, without the details of gettin’ there but

funny.

She may …

We were at Menzies one night when Jimmy was there. I’m not sure whether Ivan mentioned something. Oh, it was the night

what’s his, who’s the Governor? Roden, Roden [Sir Roden Cutler]. He’s a bit late getting there for our dinner, yeah. It is funny in a way. I got a group together about the end a May, Jimmy had some, and

I dunno how he got the word, can’t recollect that too good, I had nothin’ to do but what do you call em? They’re good blokes.

Well, it was all interesting just bein’ there. You hear funny one. I was with Matt Abbott. I go on with that first?

Matt Abbott, South Australian, and Albert Gerard, Jack Gerard. Gee that sounds like nearly the same surname. Yeah, well we had bugger all except nothin’. They clustered round me, “Let me have a sleep. Keep me

warm,” or dry or whatever. Anyway, I’d wake up and I’d get out without disturbin’ them, come back with some turkey eggs and somethin’ in a mug, bigger than the mug I had, and I’d make egg flip. Used to make em sick, they’d retch.

Albert, he’s a good mate Albert, Matt Abbott, extra good, comes from Adelaide in South Oz.

That’s where I got tied up

with bein’ a corporal for a – what do you call it? – do with the medical or army, then I got detached to the 2/2nd Infantry in El Arish and I was with them and they

were pretty good. I looked after them and they looked after me.

The Ities bombed the bloody railway bridge that we had there. Bloody Ities, a bit of a pest you know.

Individually they were decent people, like the Yanks [Americans] in, decent people, poor English lead. Better not go into details, they might hear me. No, they were common sense.

He won’t exist. We took 30 or 60,000 prisoners. No, too ridiculous when you count back. With what they had, Mussolini, and better have a drink while I think meself out. Might be with the common sense side of

it that part of it, too ridiculous.

How long after what?

End o’ May. End o’ May.

El Arish, yeah.

Then we went up to Cassa.

And then Syria near Qatana

near Damascus.

Bugger all.

No action, no. But we had a lot to do.

To prepare.

Defence works. There’s all heavy rock stuff was what, waste

o’ time, couldn’t dig in.

I had nothin’ to do with it. I’m just one o’ the silly buggers up in battalion headquarters. That’s when Fergie took me over.

He just wanted me to be battalion company stretcher-bearer.

Yeah, I. B. Ferguson. You heard o’ him? No you haven’t? You bugger, you have. He was somebody.

What could I tell you? Wonderful man. Sergeant, I think, at Bardia. Wonderful. I think he’s with the I [Intelligence] people. That’s how I

first met him. Somehow I got tangled up with, between 17th Brigade, Bill Refshauge, Fergie and who the bloody hell else? Some bugger, I can’t think of him. Burston, headquarters. He was a general or major general of brigade, brigadier something. No,

Fergie I. B. Ian Bruce Ferguson. Name’s worthwhile. Wonderful man. Common sense fella.

I can remember meetin’ a

Russian bloke and we had a bit of a yarn about – what do you call it? – I dunno. Oh Tim, that’s where I first met Tim, Tim Donohue, 2/3rd Battalion, MM [Military Medal]. Anyhow, we had a couple a drinks. Thought, ‘Righto,’ this and that and we exchanged viewpoints about

bugger all without being involved and. I liked Tim, he was a goody. He, later on was out o’ the 2/3rd Battalion, he was commissioned, Military Medal and he didn’t go back to the unit at that time so he come over to us and got a Military

Cross. He’s one o’ me specials, I mean that. Tim Donohue.

Yeah, in bloody Damascus, yeah.

Not other than he was Russian and we’re Aussie and we’re exchanging viewpoints

of what’s in a industry called sate, how’s that sound? Oh yeah, I can remember somethin’ about him. Years later, Paddington, I was with Pat Marshall-Cormack, no, he had a bit o’ rank.

Lieutenant corporal, how’s that sound? Lieutenant, no not lieutenant, no, Pat, good bloke, artillery, been with the, in Malaya. Pat Marshall-Cormack. Guy Patrick Marshall-Cormack.

Lieutenant colonel, good bloke, but we were mates, without bein’ stupid you know. Now where was I up to?

Oh Qatana, that was different then, he had nothin’ to do with that. No, Pat had nothin’ to do with up there, Qatana.

3rd Battalion, couple o’ other blokes and Military Cross winners too. Hutchie Hutchison and the other little bugger, he was a cheeky bastard, oh shit. He made, I think they both made bloody – what do you call it? –

bit o’ rank. I remember one night out at Glenwood, they just got the university going and we were invited, 2/1st Battalion. Oh Frank, Frank Brown, he was president, just after I got burnt out. Now that’d have to be ’68. I turn up,

seven major-generals, “Hello Billy.” Oh shit. No, it gives ya a kick, blokes like that to, “Hello little Billy.” No, sometimes it gives you a bit of a kick to think you wasn’t a stupid bugger all the time.

There’s seven of the buggers, major- generals I mean. Kenny Eather in particular, I liked him. He’s me relative in a way, incidentally, too. I’m rattling off a bit from what you mentioned.

Up in

Qatana, yeah, yeah, yeah.

I had a bit o’ responsibility.

It didn’t worry me. I was just one o’ the boys. But right the back, “Hello, there’s that little bugger.”

No, they’re good crowd. I had no trouble with rank or anything like that.

Lookin’ after people, number one, makin’ sure they could still march, pretty serious business for infantry blokes.

Well they treated me like them and we got along and no fart arsin’ about. I didn’t have to stand over any bastard and that was something. No, I had no problem with rank, no trouble at all. The only trouble,

in Ceylon, oh shit, we’d been at a funeral and I’m in charge of the detail and Boss Edgar, he was our CO at that time, I didn’t see him cause o’ the ranks around me, I didn’t salute him and he never said a word. Bluey what’s-a-name, Victorian fella.

Here’s only little incidents that didn’t happen but they could’ve provoked men’s stupidity cause you didn’t follow the rules, you know. Another time in Ceylon I think they caught up with me. I had a bit o’ gear,

something like this in here. Nothin’ serious. You seen in there?

You know, little collections, I picked up a lot a gear.

Stuff that I’d left at,

gee, the city, in the city, something. ‘Fore we went up the desert and there was gear in it and they returned it to me, in Ceylon I think. Charlie Gregg. You heard o’ Charlie? He was, missed somethin’. He finished with a career.

Charlie, Charles, C H Gregg.

I gotta get this out.

Now what is it?

In eylon?

Yeah. It didn’t catch up with me till I was up at bloody, where was I? I was there and I didn’t bother. They caught up with me when I was up with, Charlie was actin’ CO up in Wondecla. Bloody war was nearly over but not quite.

Anyhow, I had a spare uniform in it and you wasn’t supposed to have a set and bloody what’s-a-name, he was a good bloke but he was a silly bugger cause he’d be suspicious, but he was me CO or 2IC [Second in Command] in the battalion.

He’s the bloke introduced me to Bob Carr. We got out here of a Sunday, have a few drinks, Maroubra Club. I gotta think o’ his bloody name. Oh shit. Ernie, Ernie I like, that pale

bloke, he’s 2IC a the battalion and I’d just rubbish him, I wouldn’t take any notice o’ him. I’m the corporal, he’s the 2IC and I just, I dunno why, I never had any reason to dislike him, Ernie, I’ll think o’ his name a minute.

Anyhow, he won’t be goin’ to my funeral cause it’s too bloody late, he been there first. No, gee, I nearly got his name then. In the, I think, second reinforcements in the Kokoda anyway.

Marlene. No, I gotta connect it up so I’ll

get all in order sometimes. Anyhow this ‘as ‘ad it.

Marlene, I better got quiet.

Yeah, yeah.

We thought we were goin’ up the Andaman Islands or some bloody thing. No, that was Churchill’s idea, not ours.

Good, good. Now I get to know blokes there

and that’s how I met the battalion in a different way and Fergie. I’d had dengue fever or some bloody thing, get out o’ hospital and I’m sort o’ lost, no bastard wants me. I’d lost me platoon. I’d had a corporal in the 16 Platoon in D Company. Angura

Atota, how’s that? Hey. Cup o’ tea out the back. No, anyhow I get back to the battalion, I’m not sure how long it was, he come over, Fergie, I B, he asked me, he asked me, he didn’t approach me, no known regimental, no nonsense would I

be prepared to take over his company as stretcher-bearer corporal. And I’ve said to the bloody tent, I had a bit of a tent or something, he said, “I got a crook wrist.” I said, “You remind me of a bastard I knew, had a bloody crook wrist up in his shearin’ shed over here and wanted to be feedin’ by

me hand.” He looked at me and I thought, “Hello.” I said, “Nothing wrong with you.” Now he accepted me as his corporal stretcher-bearer in the B Company, made my life. I’m not kiddin’ about that. He gave me a reason. Officially not

havin’ a section, lost, then I got transferred out o’ the AMC [Army Medical Corps] into the battalion. Nothing wrong with the 2/2nd, oh shit no. But I B, oh crikey. No, we got along, common sense without fart arsin’ about, as I call it.

But I dunno, something wrong with this, bloody thing’s getting empty. Is there anything about here?

Wouldn’t be. Hello I…(interruption). That’s all right. I did it different to what his idea was. I separated blokes who could hurt one another or be….

Like it did happen. So at Oivi when Bobby Allen and Bruce Lindsay both got donged… Anyhow, that’s a different story. That’s a bit later on.

No, I wasn’t a stretcher-bearer; I was just in charge of

them.

Fergie and I? Couldn’t go wrong, he’s like me father, good mate. No fart arsin’ about. New Zealander I think. Married a Christchurch girl, New Zealand. No, Fergie, he finished

up, after Charlie Green, CO in Korea got skittled, he took over from him because he was 2IC. No, they’re the sort of blokes you have respect for cause you know ’em without fart arsin’ about, know what I mean? Fergie. They named a library after him, I think, at Ingleburn. I don’t know

what else they did. He’d do me. Now anybody does me, they’re on my side. Here’s to the game. No, I know it’s a silly sayin’ I got, but if they’ll do me, they’ll do. Like me little dog, if she’ll do me, boom-boom. Reliable.

From about Easter until end o’ July or something like that or end of June or whatever.

Oh yeah. No, no ’42.

You got to be within reason. That’s where I first met the (UNCLEAR) Costa. He’s a

bloody character.

I’m buggered if I know. There’s something going on with the GRs at, somebody else in charge of bloody New Guinea, in, what do you call it?

Then. Well the Japs had been messin’ about and

the navy done a terrific job, terrific job. Tryin’ to think, I got to, mustn’t get mixed up on some things, the other day again.

Well after I got with the GRs we’d do little patrolling things and go

lookin’ for trouble and nothin’ serious. I think some of it might still be off the record.

Not that’d be incidental as far as helpin’ us here. Now and again I gotta say it, that’s enough, see.

We got on the ship.

City of Liverpool, and we were hanging round there for a couple o’ days, then we take off. Then there was a bit o’ trouble, I think it was some

nurses or mattresses, something in the forward hold caught alight, our ship caught alight so the convoy told us to piss off. We were down near the South Pole, as if that’d help.

It wasn’t. It was a….

Funny when you look back. The convoy give us away and put a bloody mile here. Anyhow, we got back to Melbourne, that’s the main thing.

Well, there were enough of us to contain it but it was a bit awkward and you’re out in the middle of the bloody Southern Ocean with the bloody light with the

ship and that sort a buggers you up a bit. No, you, the City of Liverpool, that’s the ship.

We got to Melbourne.

Then the bloody wharfies wouldn’t unload us.

So we, you know.

They didn’t like to use our ammunition in Melbourne. Anyhow we has our leave. In Brisbane something happened there too.

They wouldn’t load it then and Uncle Darcy, he’s on the, part o’ the game with,

oh gee, what’s-a-name, good old runner. Anyhow, we got things movin’ and he had a little bit o’ control and told ’em to get on with it. Darcy, he was a lovely old man, good old foot runner. His times hasn’t been beaten yet over 40 yards.

I’m enjoyin’ this. That must be this bloody what’s-a-name I had with me snack. I think I might have a bit of a nibble at that, nothin’ serious. Marlene’s goin’ I’ll change. Names don’t matter much.

No, I had me leave in Sydney.

I had me fortnight.

And I got the news there about Jack bein’ skittled, which I’d known, but it buggered me up a bit to come and see. Des had arranged a party for me at Reardon’s, Curly’s mother’s

and he was out o’ the 2/1st Battalion. He was the – what are them throw-up things? Curly Reardon, he was an original out o’ the 2/1st, one o’ the original of Kenny. Kenny, Kenny [Eather],

finished up major general bloke. I get all this right but I gotta think. It’s the other day. Curly Reardon. Anyhow, his mother and my Dad were mates and she give me a bit of a welcome home and Dad in the police had to be notified about certain things and

I get the drill that something happened at home, like Jack bein’ skittled on the Canny [Canberra]. Of course, I knew. You’re not supposed to know this all at the time. Jack Strahan. Here’s to Jack.

Canberra.

Canberra. You get skittled and if you’re, a first four. No, he shouldn’t ‘a’ been in the bloody thing. But yeah, he was a good pal, Mum’s husband and good mate to me. I was fortunate, had two fathers. Imagine having two good

buggers. I had two goodies. No, I mustn’t get too emphatic about that but I gotta be.

Yeah, that’s early August ’42.

What’s that?

Not really. I just carried on, family, and then I put in for Brisbane leave. So when I’d finished mine I went up to Brisbane to Uncle Jack and I get out to Breakfast Creek, Uncle Jack said, “How ya goin’? You

holdin’?” I said, “I’m right.” “You got 20 quid?” I said, “Here it is.” He put it on Auction [racehorse], four to one. And there’s a few other mates on the upper north coast, we had another fortnight’s leave.

Well I finished up with 10 quid over the Owen Stanleys. The bloody hell would you

want money for over there? Bugger all. But you don’t plan this. I go on leave in Beirut with 17 quid, finish up with sixpence. Go on leave in Sydney with 127 pounds, finish up winnin’ a hundred through Uncle, mentioned, with Auction.

Couldn’t lose. What’s the good o’ carrying it over the bloody track? Sounds bloody stupid doesn’t it? No, but he’s a good uncle, so getting’ back to him. Arthur Postle, that’s the bloke I couldn’t think of before, good old foot runner, Arthur Postle. Jack Donaldson, Uncle Jack. Alden.

They’d knocked around South Island before the First War and they’d just run around gettin’ equipped and winning, New Zealand too. No, but they were blokes. And Uncle Darcy, he’s the youngest. He won the Stawell Gift, 1911.

No, I’m proud of my family. They were a lot o’ fun and they helped me and I think they were pleased with my progress now and again. I better go quiet about that.

We had a few mates,

we spent another fortnight in Brisbane then took off on the John Steel to Moresby. I think they all got skittled, I’m buggered, can’t recollect there’s anyone left, you know.

OK.

Serious business.

How do I do that?

…as soon as he seen the coppers off into the track. He’s still on the beat. That’s how it’s done.

I was on the ship and we got issued with pyjamas, I dunno what for. Blokes. Now we get up to New Guinea and then we kept goin’.

Mighta passed

through. There’s a little place up in a bit of a hill. Anyhow, we get up to Koitaki, heard o’ it? Oh good. Anyhow, we sent patrols out from there and couple o’ days later we started walkin’ over the track.

We knew it couldn’t be done but it had been done but not by a bloody mob of blokes.

What’s a name from Kokoda? Bert Kienzle, he’d done it as a couple of natives had

done it and previous to us part of it had been done by the 21st Brigade, they got pushed back a bit, Potts’s mob. You heard of him?

Oh good. Good bloke, 21st Brigade, 3 Battalion, he had guts.

We didn’t have to worry, some bugger had done it. There’s a bit of rough track, bit slippery and wet and troublesome but we got there.

Up the shit, it rained all the time.

(UNCLEAR) . Should happen every day without the sleep.

What do I got to do? Be in action? OK.

That was the beginning of a few days. Yeah. Lot o’ blokes were right

foot sore and I couldn’t say, “Well, you’re gonna stay there” or take ’em. Damn awkward to not leave blokes. Not wounded but just, they’re just hurt or footsore or some bloody thing. And old Rex, I remember him, he had a hell of a bloody crook foot. I

dosed him up with M and B, oh gee. Years later he let me know, he’s the bloke that had to write about me citation, Boggabri bloke, small world how things happen, small world.

I was there to make sure they were right.

You couldn’t take their boots off so you just got em goin’, awkward one.

No, it was the army’s fault, boots didn’t fit, this and that. After a couple o’ days bloody boots fitted. How’s that?

They didn’t do what I told ’em cause I

told ’em this in the Middle East, that if you don’t have the right sized boots or this or that and proper socks your feet have trouble. And for marchin’ men or walking men, you don’t do it on your guts you do it on your feet.

No, I know, I know. No I get a bit emphatic about that. I used to put that down. Gee, I nearly had what’s-a-name’s name then, he’s a good old bugger. He taught me, orthopaedic surgeon, he taught me how to take a leg off.

2/1st AGH, Middle East. In the jungle or wherever we had the troubles, you didn’t take blokes’ legs off, you tried to leave ’em with ’em. George Campbell, he’d done a leg anyhow. What’s a name? Bloody name. I remember the day

they walked through the…Briggs. Briggs. Now I been neglected, I left me brandy. It’s too sure, I’m over here. No Tensing, it’s funny. His legs are in a mess, both of

’em.

Anyhow, I seen him in a tram just after the war about, somewhere about anyhow, and he goin’ crook at me cause his legs were crook. I didn’t go crook, I didn’t order him a drink, I said, “Bugger ya.” You know.

There’s a few bullet wounds and a big smash crash. To get ya bloody legs nearly knocked off after a bullet goes through ya into there sort o’ breaks you up a bit.

I couldn’t have done,

I had no equipment, had bugger all. I should’ve done cause they lost, one George Campbell lost his leg anyhow. But it is only because he was left that long when he was wounded till he was attended to. No, there’s a lot o’ neglect or

not preparation. These bloody Australian bloody politicians. Anyhow, here’s to 39th Battalion. Ever heard of em?

Hey?

Oh you beaut, you beaut. I got a bit o’ gear on ’em. Wonderful. Little boys bout 17, 18 year old.

I was a bloody old man, about 18, oh well, 25. It excites me now. I get messages from them now and again from down in Vic and they’re all old men in their 80s. How the bloody hell I can recognise ’em? No, it gives me a bit of a kick,

that’s what Christmas is all about. That’s lovely, that’s lovely.

The least the better. Half a blanket, half a this, half a that, couple o’ days’ rations. We made it.

I had an extra pack on me side with a bit a gear in it.

Well, anything that could help some poor bugger there. It was never enough. You had your little packets with your uniform that you had to look after yourself. Anyhow, I had a bit, a little extra.

Sulphanilamide, morphine, nasty things. I didn’t have to use the nasty things.

You can see that wouldn’t last a day and night so boom-boom. Bugger, bugger, bugger.

They tried to get the wounded about 11 o’clock, a couple o’ days later I still had ’em, couldn’t evacuate ’em, it was terrible. (UNCLEAR) These sick blokes I was lookin’

after. You supposed to evacuate ’em to (UNCLEAR) but you couldn’t. Excuse me being Marlene.

Marlene. Marlene. Those blokes were worthwhile,

one of ours. Doesn’t matter bout what it was, this young…60 years ago again.

(BREAK)

(BREAK)

(BREAK)

We overcome the difficulties.

They were all good as chums. You might see something up there on the wall.

Under the photo, you read the citation.

I was lookin’ in a book there, I got a bloke says, “Thanks Tilly for savin’ our lives.” That’s something.

Blokes?

Wonderful men; wonderful men.

How would I know? I just did it and that’s all about it then. I couldn’t make any specific incidents about this or that.

They were worthwhile. They

were worthwhile. They were there to get picked up so that was the part o’ the, over the shoulder. They’re wonderful blokes. How the battalion, my Battalion, 2/2nd Infantry, grrrr.

Anybody mentioned Tom Blamey, I’d wreck the bloody place. He was somebody. He was a good bloke. Can’t undo those deeds that were done and these blokes did it.

That Kokoda Track, I don’t think that could happen again. It wouldn’t be possible. I’m fortunate I mighta been part of a bit…. That 39th Battalion, good on them.

Could

Australia be that stupid? They were that neglected then in 1942. The Japs helped ’emselves to the north coast and nearly walked through to Moresby. Don’t tell me Cossie…

Do you know him?

Lovely man. In charge now of everything.

He’s a nice enough bloke. He’s over there.

No, you don’t waste those

opportunities. Yeah, Peter Cosgrove that the bloke?

How, thanks for that. Now you’re nearly alert aren’t you?

The nasty bit.

How could I explain it? B Company blokes. We’re that close,

I can’t understand, no, I didn’t mean that. But we, Japs had them what’s-a-name guns and they cut ya in half, the bastards.

They didn’t attack us, we attacked them. We come down the gully, two gullies and if we got close enough they started shooting,

so we had to shoot back. That means we lost, we lost 80 men that day, worst day for the battalion.

(BREAK)

It was the other day anyway.

Not a bad idea. Good anticipation. You beaut.

Different days I can get it, three days today,

we’ll manage it somehow. Put it over here, I’ll steady what’s-‘im-a-call-it. Good girl. Geez, I’m getting’ a bit clumsy.

No, Templeton’s Crossing, it was a bugger. Bugger. Skinny, his uncle, although it was his brother I thought it was his uncle, up at Oivi, not Oivi. Down near where I’m camped.

(UNCLEAR) he was cut in half. It was a bastard, I couldn’t do much to help him. And then that was Skinny and old what’s-a-name? In under the hat,

a couple o’ other buggers, boom-boom, boom-boom, and what’s-a-name, fair-headed fella, shot him up, the blood’s drainin’ out o’ him, oh shit.

Gidley, Gidley King, Desmond Gidley King. They’re there, they’re still there. You gotta have…good soldiers. But they were there, boom, boom, boom, boom.

I had an assistant, Steve, he got a mention in dispatches.

Up to 80.

It’s a bit rough but the Japs were awkward, they wouldn’t allow us out.

Pigs bloody arse they stopped firin’. And Bob Innes, years later

we’re havin’ a drink, pub in Sydney, he’s been smoochin’ to the girl, anyhow, they got involved so he makes me his best man. And here’s a bloke at that time the Japs were shootin’ the shit out o’ me and he

got the bloke in the tree that was doing it. You can be fortunate…mates for that.

Well, he give me a bit of assistance. No, I can laugh but he kept things going. Old Bob, Bob Innes. He’s a brickie up Marlene, Marlene,

nice to see some blokes that said who was there.

What for?

No, I was too busy

lookin’ after me own people. That’s a good point. I don’t remember killin’ anybody.

I had a different job to do. I was

preserving life. There’s a bit hard to differentiate in that, honestly it is a pretty awful one. I wouldn’t know sometime whether I did or not. But no, not on that occasion at Templeton’s Crossing, I never skittled any bugger.

144th Japanese Regiment, I got that so far. Oh dear. Three days before, two days, they’d been cuttin’ bits off our blokes to eat.

Why would you cut a bit o’ meat off a bastard’s hip for?

Well they were starvin’. I’ve never been that hungry but I’ve often wondered if I had to come (UNCLEAR)

Oh, shit yeah. And they were that bloody (UNCLEAR), oh Christ, they were wicked. I had bits off me own mates. War crimes, oh Jesus.

I got a…no, if you’re hungry and starvin’, what would you do? Get on with it. Terrible, isn’t it?

No, what was that?

After a couple o’ days we buried a few. I, well you didn’t leave everybody about, you know. I gotta think hard to say that. No, but I know, I know what

happened. Here’s to (UNCLEAR) mates.

Oh no, I was with

’em. I had to keep ’em goin’. They had little problems. Some bloke would have something or so but they were up the track but the rest o’ them keep goin’, I’d get ’em up, boom-boom.

How would I bloody remember? “We’ll get going. We got a job to do.”

This is in 1942. You heard of it?

Bout 10 minutes in there.

Well we started walkin’ on the 4th and we got to Templeton’s about the 18th or 19th, then we were in action, boom-boom. This is the worst day in the battalion’s history, 80 men killed or wounded.

Oh no, I was only with B Company, there’s other people with A and C Company.

What was that?

That did happen.

For that time.

Just doin’ me job. Just for doin’ me job. I was awarded it

in, it would o’ been March the next year. The awards come out in the paper and Dad, I was at home or we’d ‘a’ been out and he rang me up and told me that I’d been (UNCLEAR). The next morning we went down to Parliament House and Bill Currie VC [Victoria Cross] MM, First War, pinned it on, threepence worth o’ medal,

threepence worth. No, isn’t that you don’t know what happens, darlin’. You just do what you do. You can’t undo. Got other blokes too.

What do you mean?

Don’t remember. That’s a good one isn’t it? Other blokes are havin’ troubles, I’m still lookin’ after them durin’ the night, getting them ready for the morning. I had occupied days.

I got enough rest. Bugger the sleep. Sleep’s got nothing to do with it. Rest is the main thing. Havin’ enough rest. Thousand men.

Yes, that’s good. Be more careful.

Oh yeah.

Wouldn’t help. George

can’t undo that. I don’t want that, wouldn’t be fair to their people. 144th Battalion, wouldn’t be fair in Japan to get what I

say, wouldn’t be fair. You got that?

You’re talkin’ too quick. You’re talkin’ too quick. What’s that?

What happened? I know what happened. Can’t undo the clock. All good one. Something you don’t wish to repeat.

And the (UNCLEAR). Can’t undo the clock, can’t undo the clock. Some bugger always did, that’s done, whatever they did, done. There were 600 killed…

I was part who done it, that’s at Oivi, lot o’ young fellas like us in a way. Now and again I’m a bit disgusted with meself, was little… All in the country’s good –

what a lot o’ bullo.

Why kill? They’re innocent as I am. Imagine you’re in this, which I was. Now just you kill and

destroy, not my way o’ life.

Kill and destroy. Not necessary for it.

Wonderful.

Well, the ones I met couldn’t ‘a’ had better. They carried me and brought me back from Oivi to Kokoda, then I got thrown out from there.

I got a rough idea, but it’s a bastard over there that’s shot at me and he finally caught up with me and boom-boom.

The bomb landed behind me, boom, boom, down behind me right at the side.

How far’s me letter box? Mighta been closer.

Funny thing, the day before George was up with me, major general [Vasey], and I’m goin’ crook at him cause he had ‘is red cap on. I said, “You’ll give my position away.” And where he’d been standing beside and that’s where the bomb

landed and hit me. But he’s a good bloke, George Vasey.

No, I just said, “I’ve been hurt so I better shoot through.”

I walked back to RAP [Regimental Aid Post]. I said, Jack (UNCLEAR) I seen him the other day.

He still has a joke when he introduces me to people, “This little bastard,” he says. He’s full o’ tricks but he tells ya I’m the only bloke can see through him. Any blood (UNCLEAR) he puts holes over me. That’s (UNCLEAR)

they’re the blokes worth recognisin’ now. (UNCLEAR) Penrith, boom-boom. I was with him the other day havin’ a drink, that was an accident but it did happen. Now what’s next?

She said holes, 16

extra holes. How would you count ’em? The main awkward one was down in me kidneys, there’s a bit of bomb fragments.

The right side.

When they finally had a look and all that, Ken, Ken,

Ken, he cut me in half, he got some of it out but. Anyhow, I said, “Leave the bloody rest there. I don’t want to be cut in half for bloody more,” and Ken tell the doctors that or something.

What?

Pain? I don’t believe it happens. Hurt, different thing. Pain, nothing. I don’t believe in havin’ pain; I’ve been hurt, I get better. Pain, I thought, “I’ll get better (UNCLEAR) it’s a simple thing.”

I walked back to the RAP, to Alan McGuinness.

And I’m spurtin’ blood here and there. He said, “What, did ya skin yourself on a tin a bully beef?” Anyhow, took ’em time and the

Fuzzy-Wuzzies carried me back to the 2/4th, I think.

Back towards Kokoda from Oivi, be on the 10th of November. Now I got that far and in the morning I had a bit o’ trouble

tryin’ to have tea. So they turned me over on this bush stretcher that they…. Me dollar’s hangin’ out through the bottom, anyhow, it didn’t work. Anyhow, I got Kokoda next morning, bout

11 o’clock, thrown out, boom-boom. I was fortunate. You ever been fortunate?

Oh no, we had, no. No, we had no fighting at Kokoda for a

month before. The Japs had vacated it. You got that right?

No, no, we didn’t fight for Kokoda. The 33rd took possession of it. That’s the 25th Brigade.

I seen a bloke there, he helped me, put me in the plane,

out o’ the 33rd Battalion.

No, no. Here’s a funny thing. His sister-in-law’s one o’ me old girlfriends. (UNCLEAR) He’d been there with

33rd, that by-passed mob that went round through South Africa. No, a lot o’, when talkin’ about and gettin’ it right, that’s the main thing. No, that’s the bloke I took down to the bloody,

to that bloody, the bacon, I got it from Ceylon, tin o’ bacon. We had that down there. That was our breakfast on that day. That was the day that Madley, that’s when that bloke come up and

said, “Hello Bruce,” bloody whiskered and everything and his eyes and I’d know. Went for our apprenticeship together, Bruce Bryson, wonderful world. I nearly had the others,

something’s went missin’. Good blokes.

I often wonder…

Can’t undo the clock.

They carried me back to Kokoda, I was

flown back to Moresby. I was there a couple a weeks, then I recovered enough to rejoin the battalion and, bugger ’em.

Only the best. Only the best. Anything in it?

Things are crook.

You got a job to do. Do you mean…? No problem after that. A couple o’ days I started walkin’.

No, they put me in Thorpville

Thorpville, he had a compound…

That’s right, yeah. Funny how I met him up on the mountains, he lived there for a while a couple o’ year ago (UNCLEAR).

Yeah I was talking to a bloke in this con [convalescent] camp.

I just recovered. Went back to battalion, back to Aussie and instructing the young blokes.

Oh at Wondecla. Atherton Tablelands, Wondecla. That was it.

How to protect themself and look after others if they got knocked about, it was bugger all cause I’d done it all before, practical experience. No, it sounds funny,

the only experience I got out of the army was practical experience, doing this and repeating it for others.

Wonderful men. We were fortunate; we absorbed the 39th Battalion,

blokes who’d been at Kokoda.

Well to us, we knew that they knew and they were the ones that held the bloody Japs for six bloody weeks, two companies of the buggers. No, this country was up the shit,

they sacrificed these little boys. Morris didn’t have a clue. He wouldn’t know where the track was. They had no maps, they had bugger all. No, now and again I can think back and say, “If we won the war, it was a fuckin’ fluke.”

It was a fluke, accident.

But anyhow, we made it. Anyhow, better get this into me and sleep on bags, bugger ’em. So what’s next?

Mismanagement; Parliamentarians. Don’t kid me. You’re not kiddin’ yourself, are ya? You’re not thinkin’ we were properly prepared? No. They send these

39th Battalion up there and they held the Japs, two companies against 2,000. No, this is ridiculous. They had no comparison or how or what and McArthur, he might as well put a bolt up his arse. He gets pissed off out a Corregidor.

What’d they put him here for, to manage us? No, I mean that. I’m pretty angry about it. But Tom Blamey will do. But he’s put over Tom Blamey and Tom Blamey’s my old mate. What, here’s to him by the way, he’s a bloke. No, this is too ridiculous

but we managed eventually. Numerically, the Americans come in with a party but it took ’em a couple o’ years didn’t it? I didn’t mind bein’ on me own but I was happier with who I was with. No, I know it’s a silly way to talk. Australia bein’ prepared, and

I got a lot a respect for John Curtin, and he withdrew us from not going to Rangoon. That’s how we finished up in bloody, what do you call it? South of…

Yeah, in Ceylon. That’s right.

Yeah well, we held the fort. We had a bit o’ problems too there. I’m not gonna, I’m not allowed to talk about that. You understand that? That’s part of GR, General Reconnaissance. You ever heard of them? You met any of ’em?

I belonged to ’em.

That’s something. And I wasn’t on me own but I was only a silly little bugger that did, oh Jesus, better have some o’ this.

I’m on the…mighta been 12 months.

I come down to Sydney, marched, and wounds caught up with me and they had to put me in Uralla and boom-boom.

They found out these bomb fragments were givin’ me a bit o’ buggery.

Yeah. What’s his name? Wonderful man. Cut me in ‘arf,

cut me in ‘arf, the bugger, Newcastle bloke. I’ll think of his name. But the young bloke first find it, he’d been on the track, 53rd Battalion RMO, he knew and examined me, and

tryin’ to think o’ his name. Good bloke, what’s-a-name, the doctor. I went and seen a bloke, I thought, “I’m havin’ a bit o’ trouble with this pisser thing, pissin’ blood.” That’s where the doc come in and it had stopped me running, it stopped me doin’ anything.

No, it’s awkward, you just like to be natural. You’re pissin’ blood, fuck that. That’s no good for ya.

I got this little, nearly had his name then, Newcastle bloke, interested in England, great bloke. Anyhow, he chopped me in ‘arf, he got some

of it out, slowed me up a bit, stopped me running. Nearly got his name then. No, they were pretty good. I’ve been fortunate. I don’t be lucky, I’d rather be

fortunate. Adds up.

I think I was in Sydney. What’d I do then? I started gettin’ me business going.

I got discharged ’44.

Well, I was disappointed this way, that I couldn’t do what I wanted to do and they were gonna make me a cut-down soldier, so, ‘up that.’

You understand that? What would you do after four years o’ service fart arsin’ round the bloody showground or something?

I didn’t decide it. I said to this doctor what’s-a-name out o’ the 53rd

Battalion I’d met on the track, “You want to be out o’ the army?” I said, “I might as well be. I’m not going to be a cut-down soldier.” I’m just tryin’ to think of his name. Good bloke. They’re all good blokes otherwise I wouldn’t exist would I? No, I’ve

had a fortunate life. I’m not kiddin’ about, very fortunate.

I couldn’t ‘a’ cared less. I got in the celebrations, Martin Place, where I’d enlisted.

No, it didn’t get me that excited. I should ‘a’ savoured the scent of it. No more fart arsin’ about, thank God. I shouldn’t use that expression. That night, I better not go into details about that night.

I had started workin’ on the waterfront so I went down to have a good snack where I used to go and the provos picked me up and put me in, I was a naughty boy. Anyhow, I told ’em to get stuffed well and truly, course that didn’t help me.

Next morning, I’m up with Bill McKay, Police Commissioner and Dad and I explained what happened. The other two, they got the sack, I didn’t, no, but this is how stupid it was then, they’d pick on anybody. But I s’pose I was bein’ a bit stupid on the

scooter.

Well, I dunno what they wanted to do me. They put me into Phillip Street Police Station and what’s-a-name, Ward, was there. He used to court me wife, no, me mother

‘fore she got married and he didn’t help me a bit. So I’m pretty cranky bout him. Anyhow, he’s fuckin’ dead and I’m not. I shouldn’t talk like that. He made inspector, he’s inspector of police, waterfront, buildings and all that.

That’s funny, you nearly forget things. Now and again I can recollect but what the bloody hell’s there? Shit. Better not rattle the head too hard. No, I’ve enjoyed today.

It done any good?

When?

Bit awkward one. No, that’s awkward, that’s out o’ my reach, honestly. No, it happened, and through the deep,

I don’t think I’d want to be involved in that, cause since then… No, you understand what I mean?

I can’t understand what done be. I’ve not nothing against anybody and it…

For the Japs I had no animosity. Meet ’em man to man and I did meet ’em man to… It was not an experience you’d like to repeat.

Well, I’ve met a few since then and some out o’ the unit that were against us and we manage. The 39th Battalion have a reunion with ’em and that. I’m not encroaching on em; I’m in that. As far as I’m concerned, 144th Battalion

of Japs of that division, we wiped ’em out, or nearly. It’s not nice is it? Now a division of blokes, a division of us would’ve been up to 10,000 blokes and you’d heard that too.

Gotta have a purpose. We did well; we were an expensive item. The Owen Stanleys you mentioned. Oivi. Names don’t matter. They don’t matter. I know some Japs’ names,

a couple at Templeton’s Crossing in particular, and they’re deadski, so deadski, Marlene, boom-boom. Back to Arabic, the girl with the Arabic. Is she listenin’? Have I done something wrong?

I had no problem. I didn’t really have a problem. I settled down in me own business, me trade that I knew, and Mum. Mum was a war widow

at the time. I just kicked along…

and paid off the home that we owned, our own money.

Talkin’ about that, I started an association of our battalion,

the association. There might be a book over there behind you. But I…

Got it going and we had the association and it’s only folded up a year or so ago. No, they were pretty good, our 2/2nd Infantry. You ever heard of it?

The best in the world.

They’re a lot o’ good fellas too.

Still got it, still got it with the Kokoda people. They’re special

people. Couple o’ blokes, Kienzle and Doc Robinson, they were there before, they knew me, I couldn’t do anything wrong. “Don’t matter, Aussie.” But the natives,

I couldn’t go wrong cause they knew they trusted them. Bert Kienzle, Robinson, oh, Doc Vernon. We’ll give him special marks. You heard of him?

First War, Light Horse, Military Cross.

What a bloke. He’s up there in New Guinea. They wanted to piss him off, na, he shook his head worse than I would, and that’s pretty serious. Military Cross. They don’t come easy when you know someone.

Vernon, he give away his blanket to a native so he wouldn’t get cold. Wonderful man. I remember one night on the Kokoda Track, I gotta think,

Victorian bloke, he put the line through, you know, phones from Kokoda to…Jack, Jack, Jack. Jack, Jack, anyhow, got that done.

You holdin’ up? (interruption) No Jack, he’s there. He’s one o’ the blokes in the background, Jack, blokes that you revered and cared for.

Yeah, what happened?

That girl over there?

I was workin’ in me factory, getting’ it going, and Albert, he was the band sergeant,

brings over another bloke. Anyhow, we went over to where his, Albert’s, sister-in-law, somebody, and we helped ’em put the carpet down and me wife, that’s how I met her. How you make an accident. Couple o’ weeks

later she called in, we go and have a quiet drink. Now after about six months, I said, “You got some tiller in ya?” Anyhow, he’s part o’ me family. That’s Emily. That’s Olive.

I like to call me dog. Don’t mean anything. I can’t mean it, too old to be (UNCLEAR).

Mother o’ me children, oh yeah, very important.

Bout 1946. We got married in ’52.

Took me a bit o’ time to wake up to meself. You slow like that? Takes ages, think about it.

Children. She’d had a son.

Now I legally adopted him and

he made little Billy. Then she said she couldn’t have more children. Said, “Why not? Don’t stop me tryin’.” And bugger me, out come Roxanne. That’s funny.

I got a boy and a girl, dinky-di.

Bloody funny thing, the gate here the other day, the dog’s barkin’, I thought, “What the bloody hell’s she barkin’ at?” Eleven people; my grandchildren. Say, now what have I been doing? It makes life worthwhile.

Not what I’m doing now at the place up the back, this was there forever. Whatever, I don’t give bugger but I do. But they’re worthwhile. They’re my little family and… And do you know, this is funny. The other day. I

could mess around and find their for you. I better have a drink in case I forget where I’m havin’. That buggered things up. Good boy. No, but the little people, great, great, grandchildren. I gotta think.

That’s what the home at the other side o’ the fence is for, home for them forever. What do you reckon, good sense?

And you look out the front and you’re lookin’ towards the Goulburn River and bloody Newcastle. I’m imagining things but I know I’m right.

What are you talkin’ about?

Yeah.

Yeah, I been in trouble like that. They even take photos of me over there somewhere.

Now, funny, last year’s, the last year I haven’t

marched. They put me up near the jeep, in a jeep. Boom, boom, boom. I can’t see from here but it might be behind you. I get a bit spoilt.

Not the day as much as the blokes, wonderful men. I was very fortunate to be associated with the Gallipoli blokes; I belonged to the club this and that

and knowin’ the blokes who’d been there at the landing. I was thinkin’ of one today in fact, Snowy. Now what’d I have in me bloody hand that I thought of him for? No, but Snowy, VC, First War,

2/1st.

You done what you done if you’re happy about it.

And I might get a copy of this?

They got plenty o’ time. Good old Aussie.

Choong, choong.

What happens now? It’s a lot o’ wasted time but Cosgrove’s doin’

a good job. See I’ve got a leave it to him. How’s that sound? What do you do other than that, interfere. How can I interfere? Cossie, you know what I mean? He’ll do me. I won’t go into detail about that but.

Years ago he was a bit of a looser something. I said, “He’ll do me,” and now he’s nearly me boss. Not that I’m involved. He’s a good man, he’s a careful bloke, cares for people. He don’t be careless with life, gettin’ scattered about, knocked about.

A big thing isn’t it?