Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and his heart skipped a beat. She was beautiful with her cloud of dark curly hair and her laughing red lips. She ran into his arms and he hugged her, lifting her from the ground and swinging her around, ignorant of the passing crowd. He’d written her a poem and “The Bulletin” had published it, declaring his love to the world.

It was January 1942 and he’d proposed to her on the bridge which spanned the railway line at Stanmore. Then he was posted to Darwin with the 14th Ack Ack to help defend Australia’s ‘front door’ against invasion.

She wrote regularly, sending him her copies of the ‘Women’s Weekly’ and he waited anxiously for every delivery. At the post office, parcel in hand, he chatted to the postmaster and it was then he heard the approaching storm. Several people ran in from the street crying out in terror that the planes were shooting at them. He hurried outside intending to return to his base.

There were planes overhead, guns firing at the houses and people, and bombs were exploding all over the place. As he reached the street, a bomb fell on the post office, destroying the building and killing all the ten people who had sought refuge in the bunker. The blast punched the wind out of him and hurled him across the street, sending agonising pain through his back, as it slammed him to the ground.

Having never been under fire, he and his contemporaries were ill prepared when the Japanese attacked. The same force which hit Pearl Harbour just two months before, had decimated the small coastal town of Darwin.

They were married that same year on 19th September whilst he was on leave and she became pregnant immediately. His immediate feeling was one of euphoria and it gave him a sense of belonging which he’d not experienced before.

By Margaret Irwin

During the early 1950’s, life with Nanna and Pop at Narrabeen was wonderful. My cousin, Johnny, and I were as free as birds so long as we were home for tea.

Wearing our swimming costumes, we ran the beach from Narrabeen to Collaroy and back again, going in for a swim when we were hot and getting sunburnt in the process A rock face near Johnny’s home was a great place to test our climbing skills and we made like mountain goats, often coming home with an armful of freesias for Nana.

How we climbed down with the freesias whilst needing both hands for the difficult descent, I can’t remember, but I know it was a daily event during the holidays. At 15 I went back for a visit and decided to climb the cliff, but it was suddenly a lot scarier than I remembered!

Johnny’s father, Uncle Harold, was running the Putsey Carrier business and a man gave him a horse and bridle in payment of a debt. We had a wonderful time with Skipper, even without a saddle, and I got to ride him all over North Narrabeen.

Johnny and his mates quickly decided that it was easier to ride on bikes rather than bareback on the horse, so he was mine to ride. We were 11 years old, and I very quickly learned to hang on with my legs and feet. He pigrooted when he’d had too many oats, but he never managed to throw me off. We lined him up at the fence so I could climb on.

Flying across the country on Skipper gave me an exhilarating sense of freedom that I’d never experienced, and I was a bit put out when Uncle Harold found a buyer for him.

Narrabeen Lake was opposite Nana’s house, and this also was our playground. On a low tide, we could walk right across it. It was a great time to be alive, as nobody worried about us and there were few restrictions. It was quite safe to roam around the countryside and beaches and we, in turn, obeyed what rules there were and caused no problems. We always had something to do and never felt the need to look for mischief. It was a wonderful time to be alive as we had a great deal more freedom than the children of today.

By Margaret Irwin

We’re enjoying a billy, Sherly and me

By the side of the dam under a kurrajong tree.

Cockatoos screeching and dropping down bits

As they flap and they feed in the eucalypts.

Sherly points at a movement nearby

A train of echidnas trundle merrily by.

Then a shriek jolts us both to our feet

Over the noise of the cockatoos’ feast.

As we race to Matt’s house on the edge of town,

Sherly pulls his stockman’s hat down.

‘Ah! Sherly! Watto! There you are!

I was making some jam, but ran out of jars.

Ducked out to get some, came back to this mess-

Jam on the floor and the house full of pests.

What’ll I do?’ he cried in despair

“The missus home soon and ants everywhere!”

We follow him in to check out the digs

It looks like it’s been lived in by pigs.

Saucepans, utensils all over the floor

Ants on the table and benches and more.

I reach up to a cupboard over the hob

But as I shut it my hand sticks to the knob.

I take a cloth and wipe it all clear

“Didn’t think you had sheep; why are these bottle teats here?”

Before he responds, Sherly gives up a shout

“That’s it, Watto! I’ve figured it out!”

He’s standing in the hallway towards the back

With a draught blowing through that near knocks off his hat.

“Tell me, Matt, you ever bottle-fed a roo?

Yes? Then, you know what happened, don’t you?”

Matt and I exchange a bewildered gaze.

Sherly sighs and elucidates.

“Looks like you’ve been doing some washing in here;

Opened the door to let it all air?

Your joey- now grown up a little bit,

Saw the laundry door open and thought

he’d visit.

Jumped up on the bench where his old bottles were,

But on the way he bumped your preserve.

Must’ve given him a fright, he jumped all around-

Eh Watto? that’s the sticky prints you found-

Crashed into some things along the way,

Leaving your kitchen in this disarray.

Then out the back the way he came.

It’s simple, he shrugs as he explains.

“Well, Sherl, that’s great, but- one more thing!

I need the ants gone ‘fore the missus gets in!”

‘Ah, now you just leave it to us.’

And with a tip of his stockman’s, he dashed out the house.

I followed him down to where we’d began

“Sherly, what are we doing back here by the dam?”

But he doesn’t answer, just searches around

Past the cockies throwing gumnuts onto the ground.

‘Til, finally, he reaches a spot in the grass

“Ah, here they are, Watto! Found ‘em at last.”

The echidna train is still lumbering on

With careful steps, we guide them along.

‘Til they reach the teeming ant-filled house

Wind round the legs of the anxious spouse.

We watch for a while, as they snuffle inside

“There you go, mate.” Sherly puffs up with pride.

I turn to face him, and punch his arm

“Look at that teamwork. Worked like a charm.

Maybe we could make something of this sleuthing thing

“Consultant detectives- give us a ring.”

A silver car starts to come up the road

We suddenly decide it’s time to go.

We race to the dam as it turns in the gate.

“’Nother cuppa, Sherly?” “Love one, mate.”

 

By Jay and Wendy Richards