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11 December 1942.

Dear Jack,

It’s been some seven months since you left home to join up with the army. I hope the training isn’t too hard. I hear the Japanese have taken Taipei. I expect you’ll get to see some of the action soon enough. Mum and all the family send their good wishes. We’ve made some fruit mince pies for Christmas which I know are your favourite treat. Hope to see you soon.

Your cousin, Tom.

“Finish the letters you are writing please.”

I looked up to see my teacher Mrs. Parker walking around the classroom peering over her spectacles handing out envelopes to the class.

“Place your letters in the envelope please children and I’ll arrange for them to be posted,” Mrs. Parker said.

Today’s lesson was writing a Christmas letter to our family or friends. I decided to write to my cousin Jack. Since Jack left home I’ve written to him every few weeks just to make sure he doesn’t forget us. Although Jack is six years older, he says that I am the closest to him of all our family especially as he has no brothers or sisters. We always play football and cricket together and he has taught me how to fast bowl. I guess we are a little alike in character and being older he looks out for me and sometimes orders me about, but it is only ever in fun, unlike my brothers. He’s now based at the army training camp a few hours train ride north of town where like other new recruits Jack is having basic training before setting off overseas. I wish I could fight in the war too. I have to wait a few more years before I can join up unless I lie about my age, even though I do look more grown up than most of my school friends.

I remember the day Jack told me he was planning to enlist. It was just a month after we had heard about the enemy attacks at Darwin and Broome. Jack was playing street cricket with his mates after work and I had called at his house to see if he wanted to go the beach the next day.

“Hi, Jack.”

I walked up to greet him and his friends who were using an old battered wooden pallet as the wickets which were painted with red stripes down its front.

“Hello, Tom.”

Jack greeted me as he turned to face his friend who was getting ready to send a ball towards the new batsman.

“Will you act as bowler for us, Tom? Larry here has a date tonight and needs to have a long wash to clean up his face.”

Jack’s mates laughed as Larry, not waiting for Jack to position himself with the bat, quickly tossed one ball down the street and straight through the center wicket. Larry was jumping with glee like he was playing for Australia against England for the Ashes.

“I’m off now.” Larry picked up his hat slouched against a nearby letterbox. “As you say Jack, I’ve got to look my best for my date with Gloria tonight. I’ll be having a lovely time with my girl,” Larry called back to his other two mates, “while you chaps will be still playing cricket with Jack and young Tom.”

Larry waved us a good night and headed off home for his date.

“Come on Tom, bowl me one of your fast balls.” Jack gave me a smile as he threw the ball to me.

“It’s time to get serious now fellas.” I looked to the fieldsmen Rueben and Barry as I prepared the ball.

“Bowl it fast and straight down the middle wicket, Tom.” Rueben was giving me clear instruction.

“Jack’s batting is hopeless when anyone bowls a fast ball Tom,” Barry said.

They both were trying to get Jack annoyed so that he would falter. With my two fieldsmen watching on I fast bowled Jack out.

The sun had set and the early evening sky was covered in a pink shade which meant tomorrow would be a sailor’s delight in bringing forth fair weather. We had played at least four innings each so it was now time to go home. Rueben and Barry shook my hand before leaving. Rueben spoke first.

“It was good seeing you again, Tom. You’re a good cricketer and who knows one day you may play for Australia, so keep practicing.”

“I sure will,” I said.

Barry was grinning at me. “Well Tom, with me and my mates leaving home soon and going overseas in the not too distant future, by the time we get back you may have become a damn good bowler.”

“I’ll do my best,” I told him.

I watched Rueben and Barry walk down the street together, one holding the cricket bat and the other the ball. I turned back to see Jack standing by his front gate watching his mates in the distance. I repeated Barry’s words in my head. Going overseas, Barry said, he and his mates he said. I had to find out if this included Jack.

“Jack, I suppose you are heading off overseas with your mates too?”

I was a little annoyed as to why he had not told me himself.

“Yes,” said Jack. “Come and sit down Tom, and let’s have a chat.”

Jack sounded just like my Mum and Dad when they wanted to tell me something serious or important. I followed Jack to sit next to him on the top step of his front porch.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked him.

“I only told Mum and Dad a few days ago,” Jack said.

“What did they say?”

I knew that my Aunty and Uncle would not have welcomed the news.

“Mum cried a little and gave me a hug and Dad told me he was proud of me and wished he could go in my place. I’m nineteen now and just like my mates Larry, Rueben and Barry we want to enlist and do our part for the war effort, Tom.”

“Aren’t you too young to enlist? I thought you had to be at least twenty-one.”

“That was the case at the outbreak of the war in ’39, Tom. What with the war going on and our soldiers in the Middle East now being recalled to Australia to fight the Japanese, the army needs younger and fitter men to support them and so the call up age was lowered and Dad has given his consent for me to join up.”

With Jack heading off to war I was worried for him already and he hadn’t even left for training yet.

“I believe there is a likely chance that the Japanese will try to invade Jack, don’t you think so too?”

I imagined that if this was the case then the army may direct its new troops to remain on home soil to offer defence rather than heading overseas to fight a battle in Japanese occupied territory. At least for Jack, he would be closer to home and family.

Jack put his hand on my arm as if to reassure me.

“Our coasts are heavily protected in recent days Tom, in light of what happened at Darwin and Broome and other towns up north, so I don’t think they will dare to come down the coast to Fremantle.”

“When do you leave to go overseas? I hope it isn’t too soon.”

“There is some training to undertake first, Tom. I’ll be leaving in a few weeks for the training camp at Northam and then my mates and I will hopefully join one of the returning infantry battalions and head off to the north of Australia and beyond.”

“That’s not long to wait then.”

I was disappointed that he would be leaving so soon. Jack sensed I was feeling unhappy about his news and so as he often did before, he would joke with me to make me feel better.

“There is still plenty of time to help perfect your batting, Tom.”

I laughed at that as my batting was no near as good as my bowling.

“Yeah, I think I may need some more practice cousin,” I said cheerfully. I recalled what Rueben had said about my future cricket playing. “Who knows, I may even play for Australia someday.”

“And I’ll be back sooner than you think to see it,” Jack said, sounding ever so sure.

The night sky was almost total darkness now and I guessed it must be quite late.

“Mum probably wants to know where I got to, so I’ll see you later, Jack.”

“Be seeing you too, Tom.” Jack smiled and gave me a token salute.

In all the news I had forgotten to ask Jack to go the beach tomorrow. I understood that he now had more important things on his mind than swimming. Walking home that night I realised that the war had never been as close as it is now and we all have to make an effort to keep Germany and Japan out of Australia’s lands, water and skies. Its Jack’s turn now but if the war continues it will be my brothers, my mates, and mine too.

***

Australia being close to the Pacific war all the young lads are eager to get involved and sign up as soon as they finish school. As for me, I’m thirteen years old and finishing Sixth grade at the district State School. I’m not really good at schooling and have had problems with math and reading of which my Mum reminds me each time she asks me to read out loud from her favourite story books. The same can’t be said for my sports, as I am the school’s football and cricket team’s vice-captain, a loyal fan of Don Bradman, and a good fast bowler as my cousin Jack and his mates can vouch for.

Since the bombings of Darwin and Broome we have had many air raid drills at school even when it rains. Mr. Heinrich our sports teacher and all the school boys built the air raid trenches earlier this year. Not much to it really, we dug out very long trenches which were deep enough so that we can all stand but still be below the ground level. It is kind of fun as we get out of class and into the air raid shelters near the oval. It’s always the same routine as the teachers tell us to line up outside the classrooms and walk quickly to the air raid trenches without any talking. We sit there trying to be quiet but with so many school children the teachers have a difficult time with us all especially my friends and me. The teachers make us keep small bags at our desks with biscuits, water and bandages inside just in case we have to be in the shelters a long time, but more often than not I eat the biscuits during class. While at school we all carry identification cards that have your family name just in case the worst should happen.

Our lessons at school these days focus on learning about aircraft and how to identify them and at assembly the teachers ask us to sing songs about the names and look of airplanes both our own R.A.A.F. and those of the Japanese so we would remember the different types of aircraft. We had the Volunteer Corps home guard come to visit us a few months ago and they taught us how to make camouflage nets and prepare our school and home should there be an enemy attack.

Today is the last day of school for the year and I am looking forward to the summer holidays. Just then I hear the school bell ring to tell me that school is out. Hooray!

“Goodbye children.” Mrs. Parker was waving and smiling to the class. “Enjoy your Christmas holidays.”

“Bye Mrs. Parker, see you next year,” I said.

With my school bag in tow, I followed the others out of the classroom.

“Thomas Simms.” Mrs. Parker came to speak to me. “I hope you take time to study your math and reading during the holidays, otherwise you may have another unfavourable school report card next year. I am sure your parents will not be happy with these results.” Mrs. Parker was standing there at the doorway holding my end of year report card.

“Yes ma’am,” I said.

I took the report card and hid it away in my pant pocket. As if I would have time to study on my summer holidays! Grabbing my empty lunchbox that I had left on the desk, I said my goodbyes to Mrs. Parker again and then ran down the front path towards the school gate where I spotted my mates waiting for me.

Ray Nettle and Ronny Snook are my closest buddies. Ronny is small, tubby with red hair and freckles. He’s the goofy type tripping over his feet all the time. Ray is tall and lanky with straw like hair and reminds me of Dorothy’s scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz and behaving always slightly cocky. But all in all he is still my mate.

Ray, Ronny and I have been mates since the Fourth grade. That’s when I came to the school from the bush and I didn’t know anyone.

At the school assembly on my first day I sat next to them both and they were already little rascals sitting behind a girl with pony tails and Ray was tying the ribbons on both her tails together. When the girl Rosemary cried out, ‘ouch, that hurts,’ all three of us laughed. Our teacher Mr. Farley frowned at us and quickly grabbed us by the cuff of our shirts and took us to his office for a chat and a smack by the teacher’s ruler. As the story goes we’ve been mates ever since, having shared a smacking or two.

“Hey Ray, hey Ronny, do you want to go the beach?” I called out to them.

“Nah,” said Ronny. “I have to look after the youngsters at home since Mum is working in the Freemason’s bar tonight. Mr. Tapsall, the Hotel Manager was kind enough to let Mum help out while Dad is still recovering – he should be on the mend soon.”

Ronny’s Dad was convalescing after a bout of influenza.

“Me neither,” said Ray. “I start my summer job tomorrow selling the afternoon newspaper in town so Mum wants me to help with chores today.”

We started to walk down the path in front of the school together.

“Ok then, do you both want to come over to my house on Sunday afternoon and we can plan out how we will spend our summer holidays?” I asked.

“Yes, sure Tom.” They both waved goodbye and turned the next corner.

It is hot today, I thought to myself, as I continued walking down the street to the main road. I looked up to see a clear blue sky. The Fremantle Doctor, it’s what we call the sea breeze, had not arrived so I thought I would head off to the beach for a quick swim. The walk to the beach from school was long and tiring. I couldn’t afford the cost of a tram ride so I decided to sneak on at the back of the next tram that passed by the tram stop while the conductor wasn’t looking. There were some other boys jumping on and off at each stop without the conductor knowing. I guess he did really but just let us on anyway. South Beach was my stop. It’s a two-tram ride to the beach but it saves me walking in the hot afternoon sun. I jumped off and walked towards the shore. The water looks so cool and I am ready for just a splash or two.

After a quick swim I sat on the beach looking at the sea thinking that even though the war is faraway with our allies fighting the battle, there is still a chance that at any time some Japanese submarine or even a German U boat could come into Fremantle Harbour unseen or sit at the back of both Rottnest and Garden Islands waiting to sneak in shore. Luckily though, there are small look outs with mesh screens camouflaged in the sand dunes at some of the local beaches with guns ready should the enemy land anywhere along the coast.

Across the beach looking out to the west horizon is Gage Roads; it’s where the ships stay until they come into the Harbour, like a holding place with its deep sea channel and protected waters as it lies on the inside passage of the Indian Ocean. Gage Roads and the Harbour are full these days with a large number of allied naval vessels on active service. Battleships, troop transports, hospital ships and support vessels, including many passenger ships that have been seconded into the war effort.

Earlier this year the ocean liner R.M.S Queen Elizabeth, now a troop carrier, left our shores carrying Australian soldiers. Uncle Glenn told me that because of its large size, the ship couldn’t enter the Harbour, and instead anchored in Gage Roads. Uncle Glenn is Dad’s younger brother and Jack’s Dad who lives a few streets away from our house. He is in the Lumpers Union and works at Fremantle Harbour loading and offloading from the container ships that dock in the Harbour.

After the fall of Singapore and Malaya earlier this year, many ships have come to call Fremantle home. Since that time Fremantle has become a large submarine naval base and there are submarines from the British and Dutch navies and also the American navy who relocated to Fremantle and Albany with its Asiatic submarine fleet from the Philippines. My Uncle says that he counted at least fifteen submarines as they arrived over a period of a few weeks. I remember that Dad and Uncle Glenn were in town one afternoon when they saw a scuffle break out between two servicemen, one American and the other British and it went from the hotel into the street with a hit and miss on each side. The military police “MPs” brought the row to a quick end with the men shaking hands and each then setting off with their dates. Dad and Uncle Glenn didn’t get involved luckily otherwise they may have been hurt. ‘Not so good for building future allied relations,’ Dad had said retelling the story when he got home that night.

“Hello Tom, what are you about sitting here in the hot sun? Does your Mum know you are here?”

The voice that spoke brought me back to the present day. I looked up to see Uncle Glenn standing over me.

I grinned cheekily and said, “No she doesn’t. What are you doing here, Uncle Glenn?”

“I thought I’d take a swim after my shift.” Uncle Glenn was shuffling his feet across the sand in front of me.

“The water is cool and helps take the sting out of the sun.” I stood up to go back in the water. “Come on Uncle Glenn; let’s have a race to the jetty and back. You know that I am the best swimmer in the family and I bet I can thrash you.”

“You’re on, Tom.”

My Uncle Glenn and I would sometimes have swim races as we each had good skill and stamina. Even though my Uncle was younger than my Dad and very fit, he was getting on in age these days so it was becoming too easy to beat him. It was all over in a few minutes, of course. I won the swimming race jumping up in the water as we neared shore.

“You almost beat me that time, Uncle Glenn.”

My Uncle let loose a hearty laugh. “Yes Tom, you are a very good swimmer but if I had my youth again I would give you some real competition. Come on young scallywag, I’ll give you a lift home.”

After a quick drive Uncle Glenn dropped me off at our street corner.

“Say hi to your Mum and Dad for me, Tom.”

“Yes, will do, Uncle Glenn.” I waved goodbye as he drove further up the hill.

***

My house is Number Three Smith Street. Looking at the house it isn’t anything special; a small timber frame with corrugated iron roof, with a wash outhouse, a small kitchen and sitting room, some bedrooms and a dunnie in the back yard. But it is home for me. Most people in our neighbourhood are ‘working class’ as Mum calls it and have to make ends meet, which means that sometimes we go without what other families may have at home.

As far as families go, mine is just like everyone else’s I suppose. My family is large in number, there’s my Mum, my Dad, Bert as Mum calls him; older sister Christine, who is named after my Mum and she is seventeen; an older brother Sidney, who thinks he is grown up as he is almost sixteen now and a younger brother Harry, whom my brother Sid and I nicknamed Twit, and he will turn eleven next month. We call him Twit because he’s always chasing birds in the tree in our front yard, crying out ‘tweet, tweet’ for a lark. He started this as a small child and the nickname has stuck with him ever since. Then there are my younger sisters Olive, who is six and Marjorie, or Margie for short, who just turned three a few weeks ago. I did have a younger brother called Kenny, god bless him, but he died when I was four, he fell off the tree swing as a baby and hit his head and never recovered. Kenny would be nine now if he had lived. It’s been tough for us all, especially my Mum and Dad.

I walked through the kitchen door to the outhouse where Mum was preparing the washing.

“Hi Mum, I’m home.”

“How was school today, Tom?”

“Not bad, said my goodbyes to Mrs. Parker.” I was eating an apple I had picked up from the kitchen table watching Mum work. “We were asked to write a Christmas letter so I wrote to Jack. I hope he will come home for Christmas before he sets off. I haven’t seen him since he enlisted in May.”

“Well Tom, let’s wait and see what happens.”

Mum was doing the washing with the old scrubbing board. Lifting her hand up to wipe her wet brow she looked tired and worn-out.

“Do you need a hand?” I asked her.

Mum nodded and handed me the sheets to put on the clothes line.

“Thanks son,” Mum said smiling at me. “Are you happy that school is over for another year, Tom?”

“You bet, Mum. No school for seven weeks. I can sleep in later and go to bed later, go swimming, fishing, play cricket and go out with Ray and Ronny every other day.”

I was starting to make a list of things to do for the holidays. Mum was listening to me while she worked.

“Ah, huh, I see. That sounds like fun. You will have time to play with your brother Harry and little sisters too, won’t you, Tom? Also, you and Harry can help me out in the house with some chores that need doing before Christmas like cleaning the floors, washing the windows and some dusting as well.”

My holidays didn’t sound too enjoyable at all now. I looked up to see Mum wink at me. It’s a joke. I took her meaning and I was relieved.

“No joke, son.” Mum sounded serious as she walked back to the outhouse to collect some more washing.

***

My Mum was being her usual funny self but she is special to me and is always there when I need her. Mum is about forty years old and having ever so an English rose complexion and a loving temperament. Both Mum and Dad emigrated from Birmingham, England in the summer of 1924. They came out on the Orcades passenger ship. Recalling her trip to Australia one day, Mum told me that it was one hundred and five degrees in the shade the day they stepped off the ship. Mum always said that if she knew it was going to be so hot she would have jumped right back on the ship to head back home to England.

People like my Mum and Dad are known as ‘Ten Pound Poms’ who came to Australia to work as farmers. Like other English families they settled at the Peel Estate to the south of Fremantle and found it tough going. They stayed only five years before heading to the northern and eastern countryside to work for a few years and finally putting down roots in Fremantle. Dad had trained as a silver smith just like his Father before. Mum worked as a sales assistant in a jeweler shop before getting married to Dad.

During the early depression Dad didn’t work much as there weren’t many jobs to be had and there was no need for a silversmith. Instead he found work on the Railways as a fettler, that’s a name for a railroad worker who lays and maintains railroad tracks. He worked the northern rail line to the country town of Geraldton. Afterwards he started work as a labourer with the Harvey Water Diversion scheme in 1933 and worked on the building of the Canning Dam in 1936. It was at this time that we packed up our clothes and supplies and joined Dad while the dam was being built.

We lived in tents there until late 1939 and not having any electricity at our camp there was no wireless to listen to and so we had to entertain ourselves playing charades or other children games. Much like other families living and working at the dam, we got our food and other supplies delivered from the nearby town once a week so we didn’t know about the approaching war until a few days after it had begun. With Australia being so far away from Europe it did not feel real to my brothers and sisters and me what was happening on those distant shores.

I really enjoyed the camp life, as did my brothers, especially running wildly around the bush pretending to be early pioneers and eating bush berries and seeking out kangaroo tracks, snakes and lizards in the scrub. The only problem was that Mum insisted that we continue our schooling with Mrs. Grange, a teacher who had accompanied her husband to the camp as he was an Engineer overseeing the dam’s construction. Mrs. Grange took great pride in being able to teach her new students in a rough and ready classroom built by the workers as there were some twenty five children living at the camp in need of education she said. It was here that I got sick with pneumonia for several months at a time and only attended school occasionally when my condition improved. This accounts for me being a grade or two behind at school now.

Mum had all her children baptised together by a passing Salvation Army chaplain sitting on an old tree stump near a watering hole in the summer of 1938. We learnt hymns each time the Salvation Army came to our place but the time between each visit would be long so my brothers and sisters could not remember the words of each hymn. When we moved to Fremantle, Dad had a new job working as a naval dockyard policeman down near South Beach, where there are naval supplies of oil tanks that need to be guarded and another job working as a watchman at the wireless station at Thompson Lake. He works two jobs to help his large family and do his bit towards the war effort. While it doesn’t pay much, it’s enough to help Mum to look after us children.

For two years now there have been changes with rationing of petrol to support the war effort overseas and the buying of Government victory bonds and certificates to help our troops. Mum saves her ration coupons to buy luxuries like sugar and tea, and we get by on the bare necessities but Dad says he misses his smokes and beer which he craves mostly each day.

With all the children in the house Mum is able to feed and clothe us, and still have time to teach us how to sing and dance. I love to sing and have a knack for impersonating my favourite American singer Bing Crosby. Mum tells me that my theatrical and singing skills comes from her side of the family. Dancing on the other hand is not a practical skill for us boys mind you, but Mum always says: ‘when you’re older you’ll get all the girls at the dances as every girl loves a man who can dance’. Ugh! Girls are no fun. I’ll never fancy a girl the way Mum says I will not for all the tea in china!

***

After helping Mum put the rest of the washing on the line I went into the house to find something else to eat. Swimming always makes me hungry but Mum complains that I eat too much and reminds me about the rationing of food and making sure not to waste anything. Walking out of the kitchen I heard voices from the front room and knew my brothers and sisters were there. Sid had arrived home from work early and was in the sitting room playing with little Margie but keeping an eye on Twit who was teaching Olive to play a new card game.

“Come on Olive, put down the next card, you have to play this game quickly and keep an eye out for the matching card.”

“Don’t rush me, Harry,” Olive told him. She was planning her next card drop.

“You’ve won the last three games Harry, so you have to let me win sometime.” Olive dropped her card.

“Snap!” Both Twit and Olive had called ‘snap’ together for a win of the card game. Sid was watching more closely than me and he called it a draw.

“No way Sid, my hand snapped the cards first.”

Twit was not happy and decided that he had won the game and told Olive that it was not a draw at all.

“It’s only a game brother; let your little sister win sometime won’t you?”

Sid appealed to Twit as he walked over to join Olive who was now pretending to shed some tears. We all knew this was her way to get Twit into trouble should our Mum hear her cries.

Sid sat down with Olive and after gathering up all the cards he said, “Now watch the old card master Olive, to see how it is done.”

Rubbing his hands together and stretching them out, he was getting ready to do battle with Twit whom he challenged for the next game. Olive was watching Sid closely as he and Twit played a card each and then again.

“Snap!” Sid called out loudly. Then a few moments later, came ‘snap’ from Sid again and then again. My younger brother looked grumpy and annoyed as he wasn’t the best sport when it came to not winning games. Twit gave up and threw all his cards in the air and walked off to sit in the lounge chair.

“Snap that you old card master,” he said to Sid.

“That’s no way to talk to the card champion.”

Sid was relishing his moment of glory. Olive didn’t like to see Twit upset and went to sit next to him.

“Don’t worry Harry; I’ll let you win at cards. I promise.” Olive was now pulling Twit out of his chair. “Come on Harry; let you and me play ‘Go Fish’ instead. I know you are the card master of that game!”

They both sat down on the floor to begin the game. Sid and I laughed as Olive called out ‘Go Fish’ to win her first game. Twit just sat there with his arms crossed over his crossed legs looking grumpy.

“Bah Humbug,” he said, sounding like that Mr. Scrooge character Mum read to us last Christmas.