Department of Veterans' Affairs
Transcript
Joining the forces
I joined up in Alstonville, because at that period of time, I was 19, and I had a hell of a job to persuade my dear mother to sign the papers for me, because she, being the eldest of the family, she was very dependent on me in that respect. I had five sisters next to me, and being the eldest of the family, of course, a lot depended on me to be able to look after them as well as transportation and what have you. When all my school mates, of course, went around me, we all wanted to join up together and that was all there was to it.
I realised the seriousness of the situation, because at that particular time, you can recall from history that the Japanese were raiding Sydney Harbour. We were losing ships along the coastline here at Byron Bay, and it was at that period of time when Sister Savage was ... survived off the Centaur. It was all too close to us to be able to turn your back on it. I think every man and his dog was quite happy to see themselves in uniform.
I was always petrified of water, in terms of a watery grave, but I knew a lot of my friends were navy men, but I had no love to be involved in sea life, I promise you, because at that particular time we did four trips to and from New Guinea, and we were getting boat drill every night and morning, because the submarines were chasing coastal shipping, and we were under threat all the time.
Training in Bathurst - older soldiers
The elderly officers about us were very determined old gentlemen for us young fellows, because in that period of time, you can imagine the intake that I went in with were all young fellows. There was no senior members. You had to be very particular. They wouldn't release me to go on an early campaign, because my age. They were very stringent about that.
The old officers were a bit hard to bear on the young fellows, because they were First World War men, most of them. It was the making of a lot of young fellows, because a lot of the city boys had not been brought up as the country lads were, and I suppose they were all a bit cheeky, but ... like all young fellows. There again, the old officers had you under the thumb all the time, and of course, if you did the wrong thing, you paid.
Fighting with Americans
Huge numbers of Americans and our fellows, of course, being old timers, got into no end of strife with them. There was a lot of unpleasantness there, even among the officers. Big punch ups.
To be truthful, it was something that a lot of us always avoided. If they went into town and started drinking, well, it wasn't everyone's aim to do that, and the younger fellows were a bit weary of this, and although it was a period of two weeks there, they did get into a lot of trouble. I realised that, because fellows were coming back to camp after a blue in town.
Life in Port Moresby
Port Moresby was pretty uncomfortable at that stage because right in the middle of the port, a ship had been sunk, which meant that we had to be taken off our ship onto pontoons and taken ashore.
At that period of time, we were housed right in Port Moresby till we were transferred up into a camp, up into the hillsides. Small camps that they established to receive the reinforcements, and those fellows coming back from hospital were sent to there until the time we were picked up and brought back to Townsville or to Brisbane.
We were all doing our share in long hikes. A terrible lot of route marches there at that time. They were through open country and highways, down the country roads. It was a pretty tough period of time there because we were all young and had little experience in terms of, after having left Bathurst, a terribly cold place for fellows that left the coast and went down there. It was a bitterly cold winter.
Port Moresby plane crash - Moving to Nadzab
Well, it was a misfortune in our respect, because we were parked at the end of a runway in a convoy of trucks ... transport trucks. We were there, sitting in the trucks, with everything on as we were in there; ammunition, rifles, and every form of weaponry.
Nobody ever expected such a tragedy. To think that 11 men on that aircraft took off from the airstrip, little be known to us, and just came crashing through the trees, on top of the transporter. Sadly, we lost 62 men in the flash, and the officers then, in their wisdom, called up what was left of us, because each one, in turn, was going around looking for a mate. That destroyed everyone.
The officers then called us up and we boarded another small plane to go up into an American camp, some distance up in the hills. A little place called Silly Silly. It was written down there. Silly Silly was an American base. We'd only spent a night or two there because it was ... being an American camp, the bombers were looking for it. They were not very particular about lights, these people up there, and they were all new Americans. Hadn't seen any action. The planes kept coming over, so the next day or two, we were moved on to go on patrol at Nadzab.
Nadzab brother-in-law
The first afternoon we were there, these Japanese fellows had come within reach of us and they had a small mountain gu which was firing fairly big shells, and, overhead into the trees, they had our complete distance because of their ability to be able to track down where we were.
We were forewarned that night, on guard duty, which was pretty nerve-racking, be careful if you heard the voice say, "Jack". You'd say, "Yes" and Jack would duck back to tell all his mates. Of course, the next thing was we were under heavy fire. But that didn't happen, though. We got on top of our fellows. We were very well educated in that department, and they went out round them. Needless to say, my wife later, when I came home, my wife, her brother was with me, Joe Buckley. He was a member of the battalion, and bugger me, I saw him get shot in the leg as well. There was a lot of firing this afternoon.
We were coming out of a situation where we were being withdrawn and the Nips were dug into the heavy undergrowth and Joe got knocked off. He went to his grave with the shrapnel in his back from a Japanese mine that ... while he was in the Owen Stanleys. He had been in the Middle East too, Joe Buckley.
No titles for officers
Of course, once you went into action, the officers were never known as, sir. It was always just like Bernie and Jack, or Bernie and whatever. We were never allowed to make a nameplate. The only such thing you ... spoke to them as one because the other fellows were always within ear reach, you might say, to be able to pick them off, and if any of the spotters or those who were under protection, they're always looking for someone out in front who is a leader.
Reunions, relationships, Anzac marching
Having organised these reunions, those that were coming from South Australia to Lismore, Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane, Pat and I would do the bookings at the motels and then canvas the RSL Club for a luncheon and have that all organized, and they'd spend a couple of days in Lismore with us around the place before they'd head back to their respective areas.
It was a lifetime relationship, those. They just petered out at the end of the 33rd year. They were unfit to travel, these fellows. They were all older men, whereas we were still active. Our fellows, particularly. The local lads. But today, there's none left. Not one in Lismore area, Grafton ... Those areas are well skinned out. Have passed on."
Speaker 2: Not one left?
Brisbane is very thin with a few members up there. I noticed in Sydney march this time, most of the families have joined behind the battalion now, to fill the vacancies of their parents, and they march with the banner. Second 33rd.
Camp life
Infantrymen they never had a very stylish set up in terms of camp life was concerned. What little time we ever spent in a camp, because half the time when you're out training or out in action, on patrols, you were living under a cover of trees. They'd have an oven there with someone to prepare food for you, which was pretty much canned. There was never very fancy food, that was sure, but you didn't expect it.
The fellows who were there, they didn't expect anything to be flash about it, because you were toughened up to this life, and for that reason, I think that each one, in turn, accepted what they got, although it was mainly pretty straight cooking, whatever they'd heat up for you. Now there was nothing about it in that department. You camped out with a groundsheet under you, a cover over you, and nothing more.
Malaria
Well, that was one of the big pitfalls of the battalion, malaria. Although you wanted treatment for it, it was always a risk of someone getting ... even those that were on treatment were still going down with it. I had a relapse of a recurrent variety of BT malaria.
I came home on leave at one period, and I did two trips to Lismore Base Hospital. The only base hospital at Lismore was the government. It had a government officer there to treat you, but it was something that took a long time to get out of the system.
Smoking
We all learned to smoke, pretty much, there, and one of the jokes there were that, for some reason or other, that the department issued us with condoms. A packet of condoms. But of course, all the condoms were used for was to put your tobacco and matches in to keep, because half the time we were crossing rivers and creeks, and in wet conditions, the only thing you could do to keep the tobacco and matches dry was use a condom.
Scrub typhus hospital admission
You always had a groundsheet to give you some protection, but that wasn't everything, though. There were times when you would be wet to the hide. Socks and boots full of water, that sort of thing, because it was never time to take your boots off to cross a river or a creek.
You plowed in the way you were, on a rope across. Someone would go to get a rope across to safeguard the other fellows. Scrub typhus was a thing that was very prolific among the ... It's the lice off rats. When you're sleeping out on the grass at night, there were rat-infested areas there, and the lice off the rats would get into you, bite you, and you developed out of that, scrub typhus.
I was admitted to hospital with scrub typhus and malaria, and my friend, from Casino, passed away in the bed alongside me. He was very ill. We were both taken back to Dobodura to the 2/8th AGH, and there were mainly women there, and some of the Victorian nurses were very helpful there to us because we hadn't seen much of nurses in the time we were there.
Now, I well remember as far as being seriously ill there with it, it was something that people ... the fellows in the ward were taking bets to when you went into isolation, who would come out and who wouldn't. You'd be on that list very quickly.
Trading with New Guinea locals
Aboriginals or the islander of New Guinea, of course, they were very keen on us fellows, because we could exchange a packet of tobacco or cigarettes for them, while they'd deal in something like fruit for us.
They'd have well-maintained camps. They'd have pawpaws and fruit that we would delight to get our hands on, that the cooks couldn't give you. We'd be exchanging cigarettes for those type of fruit.
Night camp raids
Yes, there was a number of aircraft shot down around us. Of course, anyone of a night that lit a cigarette, you had to do it under a blanket or under something, because from an aircraft, they'd say to you, the sight of a match would be the size of that frame there and, of course, that gave the whole show away.
They'd delight in coming round of a night. Not so much of day travel, but night, you were always on the alert. A number of times there, they would raid a camp, but it would be a bit short of the camp direct hit, though, or something like that, and destroy a vehicle of some description. It was certainly always on your mind to be able to ... Of course, we began to get very alert then, to the sound of different aircraft.
Recovering soldiers' bodies
You were just lucky to get away with life there because once they were there, dug in, I weren't ...
Something I never forgot was the first morning we went into action, this gentleman was with me, the officer, he said, "Come with me." He called me, Shorty. I was Shorty, and the other fellow from Lismore was Stumpy. Stumpy Slade and I was Shorty. He said, "Come with me, Shorty."
We went up to a huge log, so high, and there were two men of the 25th Battalion. They were part of our Battalion, both shot there. When we looked around the Nips had dug under this log, and there they were, under the log, waiting for us to come up. I remember the officer cutting the tags off their neck and put them in his pocket to take them with him to report them.
It was the first morning of action and I learnt the hard way. It wasn't a very welcome sight, I promise you. Those sort of things I find, today, although I can talk about it now, tend to stick in your mind. They're fresh as if it was happening this morning, but you get over a lot of that nowadays.
Coming home, mother's death, court martial
An unfortunate experience there. I hadn't been home for 18 months, and when I came home I was advised then that my mother was in the Mater Hospital, in Brisbane, with cancer, but the doctors had advised her never to tell me because of the situation I was in.
The next day or so, I went straight to Brisbane with my family, and Dr Lars was treating Mum in Brisbane, and he said to me, "I don't want you to leave Australia. You'll only hasten your mother's death." I said, "Well, what's the next move?" He said, "You'll have to apply immediately to get help to help your father on the property."
I went through six months of trying to get it done, through a gentleman at Lismore, who was a sergeant at Lismore, Bede Clarke. He was trying his damnedest to get results for me and nothing happened.
My mother was still in the hospital in Brisbane and, of course, it broke the family up altogether. My sisters were all ... some of them were still at school. I went ack-willy. I didn't go back, and then I went to the local police and told him what I was doing, and he said, "Bern, something I admit we never do, but I'll give you a letter of reference because of your behaviour, and knowing your family so well." Bill Botterill. He was the Sergeant in Alstonville.
I waited at home until either someone of authority notified them that I was absent without leave, and two of the officers came out one night, in a van, and my dad brought them in and sat them down to have a coffee or some veal, and they said to me, "Go and get your gear, mate. No funny business." I said, "No." I had to go to the shed to get my rifle and my gear, my clothing, get dressed up and went off with them. I went to Lismore.
From there we went back to Brisbane the next year. There was four or five that were picked up at the same time. Five had been ack-willy for some time. I had to go for a court-martial then, because of the time, and the officer I had who defended for me, said nothing. He was a very ... he could have told a lot ... helped get me out of the problem, but I got three months then, to go into a training establishment at Beaudesert, I think it was. Somewhere like that. Anyhow, the old officer turned to me, "Bernie, you're leaving here today. You're a good soldier. I don't want to see you again."
Well, bugger me, I only got back to camp and they said to me, "There's no ... " I was getting RTU, return to unit, and they were just in the last thralls of Moratai Island, and they said to me, "There's a message that here that no more reinforcements are to go to ... the battalion's finished. It's all over." I had to wait then, to process of getting discharged. Just the normal.
Came back to Lismore on the train that night, or the next morning, and I walked away from it all. It was a disappointment, though for the ... The family were not concerned about it because they knew the situation that I was in, and the death of my mother ... pending death. The family were just over the moon that I was home.
Effects of war back home
The situation then was that every many and his dog, like mum, dad, and the kids, were all deeply involved with the war effort. Country people particularly, and city people were all working because there was such a shortage of manpower.
The number of fellows that were lost during the war years, like those airmen I knew, still never found. Their plane's down there somewhere. They never found it again, but ... For most of those young people, they were all family orientated.
Country folk. Broke a lot of homes, there's no doubt. The war had made some men and broke others. I saw fellows in Central Railway Station, country blokes, who were just going from one to the other, fighting people for money that they'd spend on the booze and that sort of thing. Never sober. They just drank day and night. Those country fellows really did it the hard way, there's no doubt. You couldn't help them.
Neighbour a former POW
There again, I had neighbours of mine, who were former POWs, and I said to one of the girls there sitting at the table. I pushed the rice off the table one night, we were having dinner together, him and I, and he said to me, "Don't you like rice?" I said, "No, Joe." "It kept me alive for three bloody years," he said, "You'd better stick to it." I realized then just how much it meant to him compared to me. He was a very good neighbour, that particular one bloke, anyhow.
