Born in the Wheat-belt of Western Australia in the early 1940’s at the height of World War 2, one of my first memories is of air force pilots in training flying overhead. Sometimes so low over our farm homestead that the wheels would flick leaves off the tall Salmon Gums which grew nearby. The loud noise didn’t bother me at all. Perhaps I had grown used to it as a babe in my pram. Parked outside the house so that I could lay there looking upward into the bright blue summer sky. The pram hood covered with a muslin fly-net to stop the small bush flies landing on my face. Flight training continued in to the 1950’s. Perhaps that’s why aircraft have always held a fascination for me.

Dad was often away on coast patrol with the 10th Light Horse Regiment. Usually between the busy seasons associated with operating a mixed farming enterprise. During these times Mum’s parents would come to stay to help her with the farm chores. Dad’s family lived on the next door farm. One uncle was away in the Middle East with the AIF. The other uncle was under eighteen so he helped his elderly father to run their farm. Dad’s older sister had joined up as an army driver working in Western Australia. Her job was to drive senior officers from place to place. By the time the war ended, she was living and working in South Africa where she stayed for some time. I can still remember the carved wooden copies of exotic wild animals she sent home. They were so life-like!

By the time the war ended, I had been blessed with a baby sister. Farm life began to return to a more relaxed pace. Dad was still using horses to pull the farm implements while some of the neighbours were able to get fuel for their farm tractors which had been ‘mothballed’ due to lack of petroleum based products. My first real concrete memories go back to this period. I was a real farm boy and greatly enjoyed getting out there with the men as they went about their daily tasks. I got to share in their morning and afternoon “smoko’s”. Black billy tea with home made scones. Play with the farm dogs, and help round up the sheep.

There was only one blight on the horizon. That was school. Not too bad the first year because I had to be home-schooled by Mum. She was strict! School started at 9am and when through to mid-day. But there was an upside. If I worked hard and completed the lessons, the afternoon was mine to enjoy outside on the farm. Real school started the following year. Catch the school bus at 7.30am, Ride it to school for an hour, and back home by 4.30pm. Help with the chores, have the evening meal which we used to call tea. Then off to bed. The same old grind five days a week. No wonder I longed for school holidays to come!