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As I was still in High School when the war ended, my memories are probably more of a shallow level. Like the Black-out every night at six o clock,my Stepmother always forgetting to have the Kerosene lamp filled and ready and the air raid siren being tested every Sunday at one o’ clock. Goodness knows what would have happened if we’d ever had an air raid at that time.
We dug air raid shelters in the back yard, which immediately filled with water and so were useless anyway. There was the food and clothing coupons. My Stepmother used to pay three pence for a butter coupon if she could find someone to sell her one. And, as a child had to be five feet two inches in order to get extra clothing coupons, she told me to make sure, that I tried to stretch that extra little bit when we were measured at school. I did. I still have a few coupons left, they are in my photo album.
I remember the Yanks coming to town. It was great gossip if someone saw one of the teachers out with a Yank. tch, tch! I think my father brought a few home for a meal and I seem to remember them being very polite and with beautiful teeth.
I think my greatest memory is of the food parcels we used to send to England. My father’s sister lived in York and we sent many parcels to her and her family. My Stepmother used to pack these awkward shaped items together and wrap them in Hessian. They were sewn carefully together, with the name and address written on a square of calico in indelible pencil. This was also neatly stitched onto it. She would then take it to the Post Office only to find that it was half and ounce overweight. She would then have to bring it home, rip it apart with much muttering and grumbling, take something out and start all over again.
I still have an original letter written by my Aunt in 1949, so we were apparently still sending parcels four years after the war had ended. In it, she lists the contents.

Tinned Meat, dripping, custard powder, fruit pudding mixture, a tweed suit and a blue dress.
She says, that she couldn’t have wished for anything better, than what had been sent, especially the dripping. It was the most precious item. With plenty of dripping on hand, there was so much she could make it.
Then came the day when the Japanese shelled Newcastle harbour from their miniature submarines, (I was born and raised in Newcastle, New South Wales), after doing the same to Sydney the previous night. We felt that the war was really on our doorstep now. Not much damage was done but it was frightening all the same, as we felt they were getting closer.
Nowadays, the Americans are sometimes reviled because of some of their policies, but I have never forgotten that if they had not come to our rescue under the direction of General McArthur, and fought the Battle of the Coral Sea, this country would have been overrun by the Japanese. It was only the great distances to the main cities from the Islands and the lack of long distance air power, that saved us from more attacks.
Nowadays, the Japanese have bought up many resorts and businesses here and their tourists seem to find us interesting, which is as it should be. The younger generations shouldn’t be taught to hate but there are still many ex Prisoners of War still alive, who will never forgive, or forget. How ridiculous war is.
I realise that we did not have the utter devastation and misery suffered by England during those years, but we did suffer the anxiety of knowing what our relatives in England were going through. There was also the worry of what was happening to our boys ‘over there’. It was a very trying time. We could have been invaded during the latter years of the war. (an ever present fear at the time) I still think of my life in terms of before and after the war.
My father was born in Newcastle upon Tyne and came to Australia before the first war. He settled in Newcastle and joined the Australian Army. He went back to Europe where he was wounded and had a leg amputated. I have dim memories of him saying that he was wounded in France, but my son in law recently suggested that it may have been at Gallipoli - which I’m sure you know - looms large in Australian war history. I have had his medals framed and have written a brief note on the back, so future generations will know what they are about.
I have recently returned from a three week visit to Newcastle. I need to visit there every three years of so, to recharge my batteries and catch up with old friends, and my few remaining relatives. Whilst I was there, the 50th anniversary of V.J. Day or V.P. day, as we know it, was being celebrated. My friend and I spent all day glued to the tv. We watched the various ceremonies then later we attended, an ‘Australia Remembers’ concert which was very, very nostalgic. I may forget what I did yesterday, but I can still sing along - word for word - to all the songs of the war years.

Mary Everett.
Adelaide. South Australia

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