Carefree War Page 2

  Anthony Healy remembers a time in 1942, his dad was in the army and his mother was a cleaner:

  We lived in Wilson St. Redfern opposite the Eveleigh Workshops an enemy target if ever there was one. We had a boarder who had spent a considerable time in the bush. I am not quite sure of the relationship between him and my parents but they seemed close. At some stage he must have suggested to my mother that it might be a good idea to take my brother and me to the bush. I cannot recall the events of our departure but I’m sure it had to be by train to Orange. How we got from Orange to our Bark Hut on the Ophir Road, I cannot recall. Yes, it was a bark hut with a dirt floor. I cannot recall any building of the hut so I assume it was already there when we arrived. Possibly something our boarder James Lawrence (Grandad) knew about.

  The beds were made of four ‘Y’ posts, with the sides being two poles with a hessian bag threaded on them to provide a mattress. We were located slightly off the road, but on the other side was a house and land owned by a Mr and Mrs Freeman. A river ran through the back of their property. They had a rather belligerent goat that had me completely bluffed, some sheep and I remember lambs being de-tailed and castrated. And there were beehive boxes on the land. Mrs Freeman had a baby while we were there. I was seven at the time and my brother John had his sixth birthday there. Mum came up for a visit and it may have been for John’s birthday.

  We set traps for possums and I was on a kangaroo hunt with Mr Freeman and his two dogs. We had kangaroo tail soup that night. I did go back some years ago to view the place but the hut was gone and mum said it had burnt down. Things were much smaller than I remember. Down the road from us was a waterfall that may have only been a set of rapids. Nearby was another hut whose occupant was a Mr Ferguson, known as ‘Old Fergie’. At one stage Mr Freeman was making coke using a large iron container which sat on the side of the road.

  Mr Freeman organised with a man to move his beehives into Orange. The night before the move, the mouth of the hives were stuffed with bags so the bees couldn’t get out the next morning. Jim Lawrence was helping Mr Freeman move the hives on to his truck or dray. I was watching from a distance when all of a sudden Jim Lawrence dropped the hive he was carrying and ran off. In carrying the hive he had worked the bag out of the mouth and the bees came storming out. He referred to the bees as those ‘black Italian buggers’.

  I do remember coming back from a trip in a buggy and the arms of the buggy came out of the harness and it tipped up and sat us in a puddle of water. We lost a year of schooling and when we came back were a year behind what we would have been had we stayed. During the time away was when the Japanese submarines were in the Harbour. Mum slept through the siren and woke up at the ‘All Clear!’

  John Squires recalls his experience in Muswellbrook:

  In January 1942, as a ten and half year-old boy I was dispatched from Paddington, with my six year-old brother, by mother to remote Muswellbrook, less than 80 miles from the coast. My great-uncle worked for the PMG and we lived with him where he boarded in Scott Street. We spent three months there, went to school, played in the Hunter River (which was not flowing), climbed peppermint trees and generally had a good time. As the Japs didn’t invade, we came back home after three months in time to survive the shelling, such as it was, of the Eastern Suburbs later in 1942.

  I recall when I was eight years old the special night edition on the declaration of war against Germany in September 1939, which mainly dealt with the sizes of the competing armies and navies. My point here is there was fear and concern by 1942 as we didn’t know what would happen to us here in ‘far away’ Australia, since we had been fairly mercilessly bombed in Darwin and Broome in February of that year. And, though properly censored, the newspapers and radio still gave us sufficient news to unsettle. I never asked my mother, a single parent, why she had sent us away. It was on reflection a most unusual action as she sent her sons but kept her 15 year-old-daughter home. This was possibly because she had left school and was earning some wages and perhaps just because she was a girl.

  My brother and I went to Muswelbrook in late January 1942, before the Darwin bombings, so there must have been powerful reasons for this action. Of course Pearl Harbour and the sinking of the Prince of Wales and Repulse in December 1941 were reported in all their horror by early 1942. Was my mother’s action an opportunity to use her uncle’s presence at work in Muswellbrook, or merely an opportunity to show her concern to protect her boys?

  In respect to my time in Muswellbrook, I recall the first day our landlady asked us if we liked egg sandwiches. As we did, we got them for the whole three months and after returning to Sydney, I foreswore them for many years.

  As I learned later my future wife, (then a nine year old), was equipped to travel to Gunning with overalls, a packed bag, and a rubber around her neck for shellshock, but her mother couldn’t bear to part with her (until her daughter and I married in the fifties).

  Charmaine Williams:

  My parents and I had lived at Maroubra since 1939. From 1941 and into 1942 the Japanese were patrolling the east coast, and we were often woken at night by loud explosions, the sky criss-crossed by searchlights. The Japanese were trying to destroy Bunnerong Power Station and General Motors Holden, which was producing aeroplane parts, guns and twenty-five pounders. Older children were out early mornings trying to find the long strips of silver foil, dropped from RAAF planes overnight. It interfered with radar being sent from the Japanese ships - the radar signals bounced back instead of honing in on a particular target. The beaches were strung with wicked looking barbed-wire and all the steps along the beachfront had been destroyed to stop the Japanese having easy access to the city. Street signs were removed. Yet life went on.

  ‘Dad’s Army’ was out in force every evening to patrol the streets, making sure not a chink of light escaped from behind the blackout screens. They carried red buckets of sand to put out any spot fires. As the shelling increased, it was decided I should be sent away to family friends who lived at Werombi, about 26 kilometres from Camden. I was an only child, nearly five, and it was not till I was older I realised my parents must have been heartbroken at having to send me away not knowing what the future would hold. As a city child, I was absolutely in seventh heaven on the farm, a wonderful freedom which was not possible in Maroubra. Orderly rows of orange trees with their sweet smelling blossoms were fun to run between. I collected warm brown eggs which the hens laid in odd places, (they were free range), and it was wonderful to see warm milk spurting into the pail from the two cows, Strawberry and Violet. All lovely warm animal smells.

  ‘Auntie Doll’ and ‘Uncle Oliver’ had cleared their 40 acre block by hand, lived in a tent ‘till their home was built, then planted groves of oranges, mandarins, quinces and plums. Auntie Doll was an excellent cook and preserver. The cranky old fuel stove produced all sorts of goodies. It must have been very hot for her in the summer heat. The churned butter tasted quite different from the small pats of butter we received on our ration cards. The pantry shelves were lined with clear Fowler jars of fruits and vegetables for out of season eating. Uncle Oliver was a small hard working man, and I followed him everywhere, bringing his morning tea down into the bottom paddock where we shared warm sultana cakes. I even walked with the stump jump plough which the beautiful Clydesdale horse, Bonnie, pulled through the rich brown earth. Monkey Creek ran through the property, and it was fun to have a swim in the crystal clear water on a hot day.

  After some months when things settled down, I returned home to my loving parents. However I will never forget that amazing time at Werombi, and afterwards I spent many happy school holidays at the farm.

  Don McKern:

  We were at the farm over winter 1942 and it was very cold at times. One of my morning jobs was to climb the tank stand, and break the ice on top, so the water would run. One morning as I climbed back down the ladder, there on the blanket where my dear little sister was sunning herself on, was a small brown snake curled up beside her.
Without any thought I flattened its head with the hammer I had just used to break the ice! Later I was told it was a death adder.

  Anthony Euwer:

  We lived two doors from the Mayfield Monastery. They had a large, undeveloped paddock which was little boy’s heaven, with bushes, trees, pathways and a quarry. The night the Japanese minisubmarine shelled Newcastle, the only damage I was aware of was to one of my climbing trees over the quarry in the Monastery less than a hundred feet away! A shell had hit the base of the tree and demolished it without exploding. I have since discovered that most of the shells failed to explode. I gather the raid was meant to demoralise more than damage, but it failed on all counts. We stayed in Mayfield for a few weeks, but eventually went back to Denman, just in case. We needn’t have bothered.

  Following is an example of an advertisement for evacuees from the 1940s. Not all were as stylish as this one from Armidale:

  * * *

  SUITABLE FOR EVACUEES TO COUNTRY

  Excellent New England Freehold Property, 124 acres, together with fine large Gentleman’s Residence, of hardwood weatherboard, on outer rim of town of Armidale, comprising 8 rooms and long verandahs. Tennis court. Electric light, telephone, water laid on. Stables, sheds, man’s room, garages, and large orchard. All wirenetted and subdivided. On main road. University and good schools in this fine country town. Price £2,500.

  * * *

  To evacuees going inland, life was a holiday and the majority of those with a story remember the time away with pleasure. More than one evacuee has said to me, ‘It was the best time of my life!’

  Chapter 2

  Cherry Blossom Land

  There was a picture in the Sydney Morning Herald from the 30s, we found under the lino when we were changing the floor covering, of a Japanese cruiser, the Shintoka Maru, sailing up the Harbour. All the sailors lined the deck with cameras. My parents said they were ‘checking the lay of the land’.

  – Meryl (Johnstone) Hanford

  It would be fair to say that suspicions of Japanese intentions were exacerbated due to most Australians never having seen a Japanese person, and few Australians having visited Japan. Australians had a picture postcard image of Japan, however Japanese tourists were reported to police as spies by nervous civilians, as they photographed everything and bought maps which was seen as early evidence of Japan’s growing desire to colonise.

  In 1935, there were 88,176 Japanese pearl divers, gardeners, traders, merchant navy officers, and government officials living in the Asia-Pacific region, but few lived in Australia and intermarriage was rare. In May 1942, the Melbourne Argus said, ‘If the Japanese had wings instead of arms, or fishtails instead of legs, it might be easier to understand them. In observing people who read newspapers, smoke cigarettes, and go to the ‘pictures’, we naturally think they are like us. And we are quite baffled when we realise they are quite different underneath. It is failure to consider these differences which has made so many of our ‘experts’ views about the present war with Japan hopelessly inaccurate. Inside Japan itself there is depressing evidence that the people, few of whom know why the war is being fought, simply accept it as they have always accepted earth-quakes, typhoons, poverty, and other evils of life.’ The Australian perception of Japan in the Press changed drastically over the war period. The following newspaper articles spanning 21 years begin and end with the theme of cherry blossom, as they tell a story.

  The Daily Telegraph, Launceston, 5 December, 1925 asked coyly ‘Would you live in a land of paper kites, cherry blossoms, and festivals? Of such is the land of Japan. In Japan, charm of manner is the keynote to character, and everyone you meet is most beautifully polite. Grace and dignity of bearing are cultivated from babyhood … There are gay festivals, lanterns lit, and the boys’ festival, when every boy, from babies to old men, fly their paper kites. Living in Japan is like living in a coloured picture book that never has an end!’

  By 1935, the tone begins to change and criticisms of the Japanese way of life begin to creep into news reports. The Albury Banner of 15 February, reports Japan as ‘Topsy Turvey Land’, ‘…67 million of them, “virile, happy, family loving, athletic, profound, Emperor Worshippers”, and yet…’

  By 1942, James R Young, an American journalist imprisoned by the Japanese for ‘spreading false news and rumours’, wrote a blistering article for the Sunday Times, Perth, 5 April, about what army fanatics had done to the people of Japan. ‘The war with China had cut one eighth of an inch from matches, as wood was a war material, there were scarcities of food … no bright floral kimonos or make-up for women, hardly any private vehicles on the road and 260 forbidden imports. Steel gramophone needles were banned, dance halls closed and the radio played military music constantly. The radio announcers attacked Chinese, British and Americans as being warlike and aggressive, forcing Japan to defend itself by invading China. Resident foreigners resigned themselves to be constantly spied on and cherry blossom tourism had almost entirely disappeared.’

  Towards the end of the war, pilots of the Cherry Blossom Squadrons were trained to guide ohka rocket-powered glider bombs into American ships (ohka means ‘cherry blossom’ in Japanese), and each ohka weapon, containing 2,800 pounds of explosives, had cherry blossom painted on its nose.

  Post war, Peter V Russo in The Argus, Melbourne, 23 February, 1946 was pleading for fraternisation, although he knew people had suffered the brutality of Japanese captors: ‘It is well to remember that Australia’s aloofness from the outside world, particularly in the Asiatic sphere, was responsible for our alarming state of unpreparedness a few years ago.’

  By 1946, marriages between servicemen and Japanese women were being celebrated and the tourists were admiring the cherry blossom.

  The accepted view of Japan’s emergence as a modern power is from the second arrival of Commodore Perry and the twelve black ships, ending the isolation of Japan when, observing guns firing at the emperor’s palace, the Japanese realised their regression from 200 years of isolation. Despite isolation, their idea of an Empire started before the scramble to industrialisation. In the 1880s, the Japanese government allowed labourers to work in their colonies and some western countries, to become useful contacts. Due to the White Australia Policy only a limited number arrived in Australia. Thousands of impoverished rural girls saw their chance to escape poverty, but only as prostitutes. Mostly dead before the age of thirty, they were tricked, kept indebted and given drugs; the usual sad story. The Japanese government objected to these women seeking work, as it reflected badly on Japan, and introduced fines and imprisonment for the girls and people trading in them.

  An interesting view concerning these women is the government statement, ‘If Imperial Japan aims to be a supreme power in the East, a wealthy and militarily strong country, and furthermore, to spread its righteousness to the four corners of the world, the presence of many young Japanese girls living in conditions worse than slavery, will stain the Japanese flag for a long time’, as quoted by Bill Mihalopoulos in his book Sex in Japan’s Globalization 1870 to 1930.

  The real impetus to expand as distinct from the desire, came with Japan’s modern economy emerging in 1853, after kaikin, a policy of limited trade and diplomatic relations, had given a long period of peace. Japan had developed busy cities, thriving agriculture, domestic trade, wage labour instead of peasantry, increasing literacy and a print culture, laying a strong base for a modern economy. Numbers of Germans moved into influential positions to achieve this. To fuel this economy, Japan, with few natural resources, needed coal, oil, iron, copper, lead, tin, zinc, rubber and rice.

  Other nations, like Britain, had built empires to secure natural resources for prosperity and the Japanese copied them. When they became the first Asian nation to defeat a European country, in the Russo-Japanese war of 1904-05 (utilising German military advice and new technology), the slogan ‘Asia for the Asians’ was coined. Their government became increasingly dominated by the powerful army and navy (there was no separ
ate air force). Modernisation did not challenge subjugation to their emperor, as someone to obey as a god destined to rule the world, but reinforced it.

  The stage was set for expansionism. Factions within the armed forces struggled for power. The Imperial Japanese Navy made its own decision to invade Germany’s territories of the Marianas, Carolinas, Palau and Marshall Islands in 1914. Japan justified expanding its fleet and doubling the army budget, after securing South Pacific and Indian Ocean sea lanes from 1914 to 1918. She now emerged as an international power.

  However, despite the success of its light industry, Japan had a debtor-nation status, resented by the population. Japan was also aggrieved at the little she received from the peace settlements. In an attempt at slowing military build up in the interests of peace, the Washington Naval Agreement of 1922 only allowed Japan one ship to Britain’s five, causing resentment. Japan later withdrew from the London Naval Treaty, another peace attempt. Planning started on the giant battleships of the Yamato class.

  Tensions in society between the Japanese government, forces and civilians were eased during the twenties when, as in the fragile Weimar Republic in Germany, urban architecture, literature, fashion, popular music and film blossomed. As East met West in Tokyo and Yokohama, women with bobbed hair congregated in cafes enjoying western jazz. Jascha Heifetz, the violinist, played to huge audiences. The Japanese, greedy for outside culture, proudly developed versions of their own. Glittering patrons attended ‘Nippon Modern films’, now competing with highly capitalised foreign film companies. Then the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923 and the following tsunami swept away this vibrant community, when about 140,000 died, buildings were ruined and artworks lost. With reconstruction, militarism flourished on discontent. Dissidents were silenced as happened in Germany, some for good. Women wore kimonos decorated with tanks and children played war games. War was in the air.