by A B Facey
My work was very hard with long hours, and my pay was four pounds per week. I had to load seven tons of lime onto a truck three times a day, then drive it to the railway yard in the city and load it onto a railway truck to be consigned to purchasers in the Goldfields. The lime was ninety-eight percent pure and if it got onto my skin it would burn and large blisters would come up. The dust from it was very damaging to my hair – in fact, after a few weeks the hair fell off all over my body and head. I went quite bald. I stuck to this job for five months before becoming ill, and was again ordered to hospital.
I was there for six weeks and was advised by my repatriation doctor to leave the job. So we shifted back to the city. Barney also left the kilns and managed to get a job in a market garden. He loved that kind of work and got along well with the boss – in fact he was liked by everyone who got to know him.
There were thousands of men out of work and I was unable to find a job for quite a while. It was terrible. People were very upset about not being able to find work. They cursed Australia and the state it was in. Returned soldiers particularly were upset that things weren’t better for them. They didn’t fight a war for this. If anything they should have cursed the Government. It was shocking – the McLarty Government – they didn’t do much to help anyone. There were little groups of people, political groups, who attacked the Government but most of the people didn’t direct their anger and hostility in any constructive way towards doing something about the situation.
I was better off than most because I was getting a pension – a pound a week – for my war injury. At least it was something. A lot didn’t have a shilling. They had to go around to try and cadge food and money just to stop their families from starving. It was terrible, so many people not having enough to eat.
Finally I got a job with the Perth Roads Board with a surveyor, as his assistant. This was an easy job but it only lasted for three months before it ran out.
It was now the middle of November 1934. Before the job finished with the surveyor, I got a half day off and went to see my old boss Mr Shillington, the Superintendent of the Perth Tramways. After explaining to him my plight of having to find light work owing to my war disabilities, he said that the Department was thinking of putting on a few men in a week or two. He asked me my address and promised to let me know when they wanted men – he also said he would try his best to get me back. He said that if I got back I would be breaking a record so far as the Tramways were concerned, as it would be the first time someone had been employed for the third time.
So the day I finished with the surveyor I got a message from the Superintendent to the effect that some men were to be employed the next day, and be sure to be at the office before nine o’clock.
The next morning I arrived at the Tramways office at eight forty-five and what a shock I got. There were over one hundred men waiting to be interviewed – they were all lined up from the office door, along the passage, then out into the street. Each one joined the line at the back as he arrived, some having been there since before eight o’clock.
The Superintendent arrived just before nine o’clock and on the dot of nine he started to interview the candidates for the job. It was after ten before my turn came. As I went through his office door he called to me in a really loud voice, ‘Shut that door.’ I did this and he said to me, ‘Where in the hell have you been?’ I told him that I arrived well before nine o’clock and I had had to wait my turn, ‘There must have been close to a hundred here when I arrived.’ He said, ‘Yes, yes I know things are bad but never mind, I think that they will improve. I like you, are you still a non-drinker?’ I replied yes, and that I always would be. Then to my surprise he said, ‘Here’ (handing me a piece of paper), ‘that is a note to the traffic clerk – you can start straight away. Now go out the back way, we only want two more.’ So out of one hundred and twenty-seven applicants there were only three employed.
Mr Shillington had a heart of gold. In fact he was the most understanding man and the best boss I had ever had, and this fact was well known to at least ninety-five percent of his employees. The clerk gave me an order to get a cap from the uniform storeman and to put in the rest of the day travelling all over the Tramway system, especially over the new lines that had been put down since I left in 1921. He told me to have a good look over these lines because I would be booked on a run the next day as a motorman. I was a motorman before I left some twelve or thirteen years before. While I was travelling over the new tramways, some of the motormen let me drive to get my hand in before I started next day. After the first few minutes it became quite natural to me.
When I told my wife the good news she was delighted. We had rented a small house about five miles from the city and I had a push-cycle to travel to work and back again. The work on the trams as a motorman was a clean and permanent job.
Early in 1935 I applied for a position as a trolley-bus driver and was accepted. I had to attend a school twice weekly in my own time to learn about trolley-buses and their workings. Then I had to have a written test, and after passing that test I had several driving tests and I finally got my licence to drive trolleybuses. This was much easier than driving trams as it was done in a sitting position and this suited me better on account of my war disabilities. And I also got more money.
Just before taking on trolley-bus driving Evelyn and I purchased a four-roomed house and four acres of land in Tuart Hill, a suburb north of Perth, on very easy terms – one hundred pounds down, then one pound per week, free of interest, and the total purchase price was five hundred pounds. This place was six miles away from the depot so I was still able to ride my push-cycle to work.
We settled into our new home. It was only four-roomed, but by enclosing the front verandah we managed to find enough sleeping space for the eight of us. We were able to grow our own vegetables and the man that we bought the property from had quite a quantity of fowls which were sold to us with the property, so we had our own eggs. This helped us quite a lot as my wages averaged four pounds per week and our budget was very tight. My wife managed quite well and I often wondered how, but I always got plenty to eat and the children were all well looked after and content. Evelyn was wonderful – she knew all the things required for making good palatable meals, and what she knew about making children’s clothes was something you would have to see to believe.
Barney was still working for the market gardener in Wanneroo. He had settled in well and was not living at home now. He had grown into a very fine specimen, very tall, over six feet.
All our children were helpful and good. Our third son, Joseph, was an extraordinary boy. We used to give those that were old enough to go to the pictures on Saturday nights, a shilling each. That was sixpence to pay their way in to the pictures and threepence to buy an icecream at the interval. Many times Joseph would bring the threepence change home and give it back to his mother.
One thing that we all used to get a lot of fun out of was playing cricket. We used to play in the side-road next to the house – there wasn’t a lot of traffic about in those days – and all the neighbouring children would join in. I would pick two sides and we would have a real game of cricket. We used to look forward to this as it was a family affair – with Evelyn, our children, the neighbouring children and I all joining in the excitement.
My job was very interesting, quite a mixed experience. The shifts were not all trolley-bus driving – some of the shifts were half on the trams and half on the trolleys. The trolley-bus was the best kind of public transport of all I think. Very fast, no noise, no smell, no pollution, ideal for large densely-populated cities and they were beautiful to ride in. I was in much better health now and enjoyed life.
We were always a little short of money. My pay was now averaging five pounds a week, sometimes a little more, and out of this five pounds came one pound for the payment on the house, Roads Board rates and insurance, and then there were the usual school books, clothes, boots and many small expenses. My wife was truly a genius
when it came to making money stretch to cover all our needs. We were a close-knit family, each member helping the other. To help us with finance our second son George and our third son Joseph, who we all called Joe, used to go caddying at a golf-course about a mile away from our place and they always used to bring home a few shillings. This happened at weekends and on holidays when the golf matches were on. Evelyn taught the girls to sew their own dresses and so most of our clothes were home-made. This was quite a saving for us.
On returning to the Tramways I became involved again with the Union and its general running. I got back onto the Committee and spent a lot of my spare time on Union business, and by 1937 I had become the Vice-President of the Tramways Union. I enjoyed this work very much. There was always something going on. We had a long battle with the Government of the day to improve the general working conditions – it was a hard fight, but we slowly wore them down.
The biggest problem I had was with trouble-makers and agitators within the Union. There was always an element who wanted to be causing trouble and who would stir the men up, complaining about everything and always wanting to strike first and talk later. I always believed that if there was a problem that it was better to talk things out – I was always good at this, both with the men within the Union and the Government representatives. I was able to get on well with everyone, even those I disagreed with. I was forever talking to them. If you just kept talking you could slowly win them around. I was able to get a lot done this way and things were improved. I even got things improved by the Liberals, and got on well with them, although I had no time at all for them – they’d fight the working man all the way.
It was difficult work, and there were always problems, but it was something I enjoyed.
Early in 1939 we got the shock of our lives. Our youngest child, Shirley, was now seven years old, and one day Evelyn quietly informed me that she was going to have another baby, and sure enough, it arrived on September twenty-first – a son, Eric – and what a time Evelyn had bringing him into the world. We nearly lost her. I haven’t ever seen so much suffering and pain, as the doctor wouldn’t help her. He didn’t believe in giving anything to ease the pain. He insisted that she should go through the thing in agony. What a doctor! After that confinement and after Evelyn had recovered from the ordeal I took no time in getting rid of that quack, that so-called doctor. Our son, luckily, was fine – he was a lovely child.
I must tell a secret that Evelyn and I had during the last month of her pregnancy. Several times I heard the baby crying, quite loudly at times. I told the doctor and he said that it could happen.
66
ANOTHER WAR
A few days before Eric was born World War Two broke out – our eldest son Barney was twenty now – and our worries commenced again. At first the Federal Government called for volunteers for the three armed services. Our son volunteered and joined the Second Fourth Machine Battalion, Western Australia. He was training for several months, and then his unit finally sailed to Singapore and Malaya. They, with other units, were sent to try and stop the Japanese who were moving down through Asia to capture Singapore.
I tried to join up again but was rejected, so I attended an air-raid wardens’ school and got an air warden’s certificate. I was appointed as an air-raid warden in charge of the Tramways Depot. I was also a St John’s Ambulance man. I had many years of service as an ambulance attendant and for long periods used to voluntarily assist once a fortnight with casualties at the Perth Public Hospital. I received much knowledge in the handling and care for the injured. I also attended a Home Nursing class and obtained a Home Nurse’s Certificate.
Our second son George also volunteered and went into training. After their initial training there was some considerable delay before his unit went overseas. George, a wild boy, ever in a hurry, couldn’t stand it and so he stowed away with a couple of mates on a troopship taking another unit to Britain. When they were discovered they were brought back, punished, and eventually sailed with their own unit to New Guinea.
It was difficult to see our boys go off, knowing what they would be going through. I said to my wife when the war broke out, ‘What do you think?’ and she said, ‘Well, I suppose they will want to go.’ I went to the first war with my brothers without a second thought so I knew that they would want to do what they felt like. I said to Evelyn that whatever they wanted to do they should do. ‘If they want to go they should go, if they don’t, that’s fine, but it is up to them.’ We agreed on that.
They all came to me and said, ‘Dad, what would you do?’ and I said, ‘Well, when I was your age I was stuck into it – that’s what I thought then and so that’s what I did. You should do what you think.’ I didn’t try to stop them at all. I didn’t put anything in their way. I’d told them all about the war many, many times – I had explained the whole business, so they knew, as much as they could, what to expect.
When they did go I felt very sad, and so did Evelyn. But we knew that they had to do what they wanted. And it was terrible while they were away – we would always be looking for every bit of news we could get. We would ask people we knew that had boys away if they had heard anything. We would read all the papers. Anything that might give us an idea of what might be happening. Every morning the paper would have lists of dead, missing and wounded, and that was always the first part of the paper we would read. It was a terrible time for us.
It was during the years of the Second World War that my wife went through a change of life. It was a very bad time for her. When Singapore fell Barney was reported missing and we didn’t hear anything of him until just before the war ended – nearly four years. It was a terrible strain, with Barney missing and George in New Guinea. Then just before the war ended Joseph had joined up. All this added up to my wife having what they called a slight stroke. One side of her face fell and the feelings on the other side of her body weren’t functioning properly.
I don’t know how we got through the four years that Barney was missing. We used to be hungry for news – if we overheard anyone saying anything which sounded interesting we’d listen in and ask them questions. We would have given anything just to find out something.
Evelyn was beside herself with worry. I felt bad but I had expected it. I knew casualties would happen because I had seen so many at Gallipoli. I knew that they would be lucky if they got through it. I used to tell her, ‘Look, what’s going to happen will happen – it happened to me – just when you least expect it.’ I told her that we could receive news any day and I think that helped her. We knew then, from the start, that the chances were that something would happen and one of them might be killed.
Evelyn would sit down at the kitchen table to write to Barney while he was missing and tears would run down her face onto the paper while she was writing – not knowing if the letter would ever reach him. It was a very trying time for the whole family.
We were all involved in the war. We spent our time helping to raise money for the Comforts Fund to send things to the men in the battle areas. Dances were held and popular girl competitions organised to raise money. Barbara joined the Land Army which was made up of girls who were willing to go and work on the farms in place of the men who had enlisted. She went to a dairy farm in Capel in the south-west of the state. She met her husband there and married in January 1945 and went to live in Bunbury. Olive had already married in January 1943 and had left home. During the last years of the war only Shirley and Eric were at home. It was a lonely, sad time.
Then on May twenty-third 1945, whilst I was at work, I received word that Barney had been killed on February fifteenth 1942 during the fall of Singapore to the Japanese. He was driving a truck when it was bombed in an air attack. It received a direct hit, killing Barney and four others. He was twenty-three.
Although I had expected this news I was devastated. I didn’t know what to do. It was Evelyn’s birthday that same day and I had organised a small surprise party for her and bought a present. I also arranged for
a birthday call to be made on the radio – something to brighten her day and lift a bit of the sadness. I decided, after a lot of thought, that it would be best not to tell her and go through with the party. I thought it best for her to have the little bit of happiness because once she knew about Barney it would be a long time before she would be able to be happy again.
It was very hard carrying on and keeping it to myself and late that night after the party I told her. It was the worst time of our life. She collapsed, it was too much for her. It was terrible, and I didn’t give my beautiful wife and life’s mate much hope of getting over this shock. But she did.
Our youngest child, Eric, was now nearly six years old. He was such a bright, lovely little boy and his lovely, cheerful little ways and winning smiles helped his mother to recover. Evelyn treated all the children alike – she thought that the sun shone through them.
On August fifteenth 1945 the war ended. We were overjoyed and relieved. George and Joseph came through all right. Evelyn was on top of the world when the boys came home.
By 1946 all the Australians who had managed to live through the war and the prison camps were home. Although they had tasted victory and were very proud, their thoughts seemed sad. They were all down in the dumps, especially those who had had the misfortune of being a prisoner-of-war. They had had a very raw deal from their enemy, the Japanese. They were starved and badly treated.
People do terrible things in wars, in the name of their country and beliefs. It is something that I find very sad and frightening.
My experience in the First World War and now the Second World War changed my outlook on things. It is hard to believe that there is a God. I feel that the Bible is a book that was written by man, not for the good of man but for the purpose of preying on a person’s conscience, and to confuse him. Anyone who has taken part in a fierce bayonet charge (and I have), and who has managed to retain his proper senses, must doubt the truth of the Bible and the powers of God, if one exists. And considering the many hundreds of different religions that there are in this world of ours, and the fact that many religions have caused terrible wars and hatreds throughout the world, and the many religions that have hoarded terrific wealth and property while people inside and outside of the religion are starving, it is difficult to remain a believer. No sir, there is no God, it is only a myth.
