Five Ways to Remember: Jack’s Loves

L-R: Thirza Pidgeon (nee White), Bill Pidgeon, Isabella Paterson (nee White) and Jack Pidgeon, c.1919

Come to think of it my brother Jack had the makings of a great lover.  Great lovers and Jack had this in common, that something or other, they were irresistible to females.  Mostly, I suppose to females of Homo Sapiens species, because I do not remember any errant or rubbish behaviour on the part of the lady hippopotami or rhesus femonks when he confronted them at Moore Park Zoo which we used to visit with our grandparents before they turned it over to the boys & girls of Sydney High.

Most important about the old zoo and in the recollections of that august tea drinking safari were the lions mangily skulking over the lack of knacker’s meat.  It was practically impossible to throw yourself into their jaws because of the Bessemer steel bars which inhibited such spontaneous gestures.  The Moore Park lions never had laissez-faire of the Taronga Park or Perth Zoological Garden cousins, or were, properly descendants, who have the facilities to eat up any Christian in the mood for martyrdom and a paragraph in the chatterbox columns of the daily press.

But at that earliest age I cannot remember whether he had any real charm for all females.  Nobody had stuffed him through the bars of the lioness’ cage or tried him on a lady panther.  All I remember was him sitting under a palm tree wolfing the sandwiches and lolly-water of which I never got my just share.  So, to be quite truthful I really can’t say much about Jack as a lady killer of all species.

Down in the old buggy house the steps had been trodden on and the dust scuffled. In a way this was very upgrading.  I had been put to making love in the bran bin and always smelt of chook.  For now on we all sat is state in the back of the buggy in the dark and leaking shed.  We weren’t niggardly – the neighbours and their girls – all of us sitting up in state, riding darkly nowhere at all, but living in a past grown-up land alive with ghostly liverymen and pale proud trotters.

Somehow Jack’s loves seem to have been sidetracked.  It is a habit of mine to get off the beam.  But that is at it maybe.  Jack’s loves were innocent enough but the grand parents used to worry about him helping the help.  When she fed the fowls he was missing.  If you ask me he was in the bran bin rising out of the unexpected pollard with a barouche on his tongue.

I was sad when brother took the help out one evening.  It must have been every bit of nine o’clock before be returned after having been in God knows how many back lanes.  The backdoor and side gate had long since been bolted, screwed down and nailed up against all intruders.  Even the broken fence back of the barouche shed had been fastened to.  Nine o’clock was no time to tug at the great puller beside the front door which spung off the angry bells into the corridors and kitchen, I only heard about it next day.

But as a latter-day destroyer of domestic help he was the terror of Duxford St.

Now domestic help in those days was available and cheap. It was expendable too.  The great problem was not so much a matter of kow-towing to the staff – of bribing them with hot soup and cast-off dresses – as of keeping them moral and careful of the dignity of established righteous family life.

There comes a time in all young men’s lives when they are conscious of the mysterious amalgam of M and F.  I was fully conscious of this fruitful synthesis of the opposites by the time I had matured in Paddingtonianisms at the age of eight.  Brother never discussed the mysteries with me but I gather that he understood what it all added up to.

We had an old barouche or town-wagon or cabriolet or some family whatnot – down in the back shed at Grandpa’s place.  It was a wonderful thing, and although the varnish was a dim grey it had a genuine craquelle finish.  It had a high driver’s seat with a footbrake and a sometime silverplated receptacle like a narrow guttered epergne to hold the whip which had long since gone the way of the horses which had not warmed the shafts for many years.  Behind the box set (the driver’s) was a sort of miniature pub lounge with the seats surrounding U-like and terminating in the up and down folding steps.  This ensemble was preserved under a Puritanical layer of tell-tale dust.  That is – until the new help came.

Jack was in disgrace and the help unhelpen.  Sad.  Because I liked her too.  She left next day.  We won’t go into Jack’s other loves for he kept them outside the borders.

There was no possibility of any further unhappy family romance in “Trelawny” (Grandpa’s place). Out next useful was a swarthy Amazon with the shoulders of a Strangler Lewis and the bosom of a robin.  She had a moustache and beard as vigorous as Archbishop Makarios’ and was as tough as a Cypriot as one could meet in any dark corner of Nicosia.  Aunty Bella has picked her out and smugly aware that there would be no hanky-panky between her and brother.  I was sure too – I could not foresee the slightest disgrace darkening the now sunlit portals which overlooked the vistas of Rushcutters Bay.  I thought that this help a veritable horror – and to all believers in the reasonable workings of natural genetics, she was at that.  There would be more chance of winning yourself three lotteries running than envisaging scandal hand in hand with this Frankenstein Aunty Bella had cooked up.

Jack naturally behaved like a gentleman and was highly regarded by the family.  But I – being supposedly too young to know what went on, and yet being blessed with an observant eye – was vastly intrigued by the amount of time our help and an equally uncouth tradesman used to spend in the cupboard under the first floor flight of stairs.  Having been dutifully drummed into the adage of being seen and not heard, I kept my peace and was not unduly scandalised when I heard that the lady wrestler had taken the count with the tradesmen in the room on the first floor back.

I don’t know how he got in to stay the night- but I do know the lady wrestler left and possibly took the makings of another with her.

After that Aunty Bella did all the work. We had no more trouble.

[W.E. Pidgeon]

Five Ways to Remember: Hoddle Street

Hoddle Street never had much aesthetically. Apart from Alma Gahan and the bamboos in Sharkey’s place there was nothing of such stuff as men’s dreams are made on.

Bamboos and palms are good for young Robinson Crusoes and Fridays in the fun and games of tropical islands but children cannot be aloft all the time and finally we would wearily settle for the asphalt comfort of footpaths and gutter.

Out of this scruffy little street you could at any drop of the hat rake out the three rough diamonds set cluster-wise in the hollows. Billy Stoddard, Billy Gallagher and Cyril McCaffery. Anytime was trouble time when all were allowed out to play. The asphalt jungle was beset with terrors, catapults, pea-shooters and the garbage missile to say nothing of an occasional air-rifle loaded with spud-shot. Fearsome it was!

Yet, in dinkum retrospect I suppose Hoddle Street was the best around. An abundance of children could play happily along its buggy less fairway.  A short, pleasant fairway which any amateur with a No 7 iron, would have sliced from Glenmore Road to Goodhope Street in one.

We would play for hours at cricket, tip-cat, hop-scotch, marbles, tops and all that was fun without expense.  The only traffic apart from the residents was the evening lamp-lighter and the occasional perve, who we could smell a mile off.

Our back lane ran into Hoddle Street, so we were sort of part-owners of it anyway – inversely we were part of it.  Years later when I looked over the deed of 290, I found that our ground was a section of an 1833 grant of eight acres to one Robert Hoddle.

Mr Hoddle was quite something in the way of being a surveyor.  He charted the Bell’s Line of Road over the Blue Mountains, he surveyed the sites of Berrima, Goulburn, Brisbane and Melbourne where he finally settled.

Surveyor-General of NSW T.L. Mitchell snobbishly fobbed him off as a character who couldn’t spell and who should have stuck to his links and chains.  With a name like Hoddle who would want to take an interest in high-falutin’ English anyway? After a mis-spelt life he died in Melbourne on 24 October 1881 leaving a crumby £500,000 behind.

[W.E. Pidgeon]

War Letters – New Guinea: 10 Feb 1944, Townsville; Killing time waiting

W.E. Pidgeon
C/o P.R. Unit
7 Murray St.
Stanton Hill
Townsville

Thurs. 10th
[10 February 1944]

Darling,

As you can see by the letter head I am back on the mainland, killing time while I wait for transport up to Cairns.1Permission had been granted for Wep to travel to the Atherton Tableland where he would make some sketches of several recipients of the Military Medal  In all probability I shall be home in a week’s time.  Have a nice steak in the house – and a cold bottle of course.

Will you please send me a page, or about 20 clothing coupons.  Do not send the book as the Officer’s shop will accept loose coupons.  I want to buy a pair of shoes they are very good and only 25/-.  Post them as soon as you get this letter for I shall only be about 3 or 4 days up north.  Shall then try and get home on the flying boat which gets to Sydney about 5 o’clock which, I hope, will just give us time to dash off a quick one at Coy’s.2Harold and Bassie Coy ran the Hotel Hunters Hill, a favoured drinking spot of Wep and Jess.

How are all the parlour geese there?  Can Molly3Molly Turton get through the swing doors now?  Got any home brew?

Had a fine trip down from the island.  Left at four on a slightly cloudy but moonlight morning and arrived here at 7.30 am.  That’s good going.  The dawn was really magnificent coming on while we were flying above the great cumulus clouds.  The effect was brilliantly violent.  It was a Superman sunrise.

Have struck Bill Marien4Bill Marien was a former colleague of Wep’s at the Daily Telegraph and was now an Official War Correspondent working for the ABC., who, by the way, is married to that girl and has a kid about 18 month’s old.  We had dinner at the Officer’s Club5Hotel Seaview on The Strand and a quantity to drink.  It affected me poorly and I am now happily feeling the retirement of the ragged hangover that accompanied my awakening.  The rest of my time has been spent dismally sitting on my bum and gloomily reading old Lifes, Reader’s Digests, Mans and other sundry publications.

Have just heard that I will be moving off tomorrow.

If you happen to be going to town will you pop into Moore’s Bookshop next the Criterion Hotel and ask if they have a copy of the cheap edition of Laurence’s (sic)6T.E. Lawrence Seven Pillars of Wisdom.  Also can you get me, at any bookstore a copy of Cleanliness and Godliness by Reginald Reynolds?

Have only had one letter from you so that if you have happened to send others I must presume their demise in the Jungle Hells of NG.

Nothing else of interest at the moment.  So accept my utmost adoration.  Your devoted willie.

 

[It is most probable that Bill visited the Atherton Tablelands on Saturday, February 12 where he sketched several men who had recently been awarded the Military Medal. They were Sgt Wyatt, Sgt. Marney and Pte. N. Blundell.7Details of the incidents that earned these men the MM are available from James Parker’s site, Teller of Yarns – William Edwin Pidgeon: Sketching Battles of WWII. (2024, January 19). Retrieved from https://www.tellerofyarns.com/post/william-edwin-pidgeon-sketching-battles-of-wwii Afterwards Wep hitched a ride with Major C.H. Cheong, editor of the Army newspaper ‘Table Tops’ who drove him to Cairns. It is estimated that he made it home by Thursday, 17 February 1944.]

Sgt. Arthur James Wyatt, MM
Sgt. Ray McDonald Marney, MM
Pte. Neville Blundell, MM

Notes:

  • 1
    Permission had been granted for Wep to travel to the Atherton Tableland where he would make some sketches of several recipients of the Military Medal
  • 2
    Harold and Bassie Coy ran the Hotel Hunters Hill, a favoured drinking spot of Wep and Jess.
  • 3
    Molly Turton
  • 4
    Bill Marien was a former colleague of Wep’s at the Daily Telegraph and was now an Official War Correspondent working for the ABC.
  • 5
    Hotel Seaview on The Strand
  • 6
    T.E. Lawrence
  • 7
    Details of the incidents that earned these men the MM are available from James Parker’s site, Teller of Yarns – William Edwin Pidgeon: Sketching Battles of WWII. (2024, January 19). Retrieved from https://www.tellerofyarns.com/post/william-edwin-pidgeon-sketching-battles-of-wwii

War Letters – New Guinea: 7 Feb 1944, Port Moresby; Picnic at Rouna Falls

W.E. Pidgeon
C/O PR Unit
N. G. Forces
Moresby

6th Feb Mon 10 am
[7 Feb 1944]

Darling,

Am back in Moresby and will soon (in a couple of days) be on my way back to the mainland where I am afraid I shall have to put in a week or so on the Tablelands.  In any case it is certain that I shall be home within three weeks – maybe two.

14

Tommy [O’Dea] called into this unit on Sunday afternoon after five minutes after I had arrived back from the local air strip.  Had only a few words with him but may go round to his living quarters tonight.  Previously I couldn’t locate him as he is stationed away from the Navy proper.  He drove off in a jeep.  Christ, he looked funny!  Quite a bleaming blade.  Just as well he didn’t have a nurse or Amwas or something with him because on such occasions travel is accompanied by screams, cat calls and yahoos by all and sundry.

He looks well enough & quite happy.  Said he flew up from Brisbane with only the slightest of brain flappings.

Bill Marien ex-Telegraph man (you will remember him up at the Castlereagh – big dark fattish chap with a girl wif lovely teef from Rockdale way) has gone back to mainland.  I shall have a few drinks with him at the Officers Club where I last wrote you from.

Don’t write me any more letters here – or anywhere for that matter as I probably won’t get them.  I received one from you while staying in the Ramu Valley.  Sorry to hear you are so lonely  – it won’t be so long now darling,

Hawkeye Hawkesley is the big noise around here.  The life & soul of the party so to speak.  Must get Tommy to take me down to the American Officer’s club as I would like to get myself some few things.  Everybody at St Percy’s (as this school for boys is fondly known) has managed to get something or other.

Sunday saw a great organised picnic in the hills at a joint called Rouna Falls.  Really very pleasant & falls quite impressive.  The celibates managed to collect 5 nurses to take along.  No Helens of Troy amongst them.  5 nurses to 12 men is a super abundance of feminity in these perfumeless parts.

Haven’t contracted as far as I know any scrofs, plagues or poxes.  Have lost my pot belly and most of the other superfluous fats.  Found it necessary to drag the belt in 4 holes.  Sweated quite a bit in my time up here.

W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) at work in New Guinea near Rouna Falls, Port
W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) at work in New Guinea near Rouna Falls, Port Morseby
W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) at work in New Guinea near Rouna Falls, Port
W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) at work in New Guinea near Rouna Falls, Port Morseby
W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) at work in New Guinea near Rouna Falls, Port
W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) at work in New Guinea near Rouna Falls, Port Morseby
2 New Guinea - 10 Port Moresby Area-5
W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) at work in New Guinea near Rouna Falls, Port Morseby

Had a few snaps taken of myself.  They are not of much consequence.

Nothing doing here, so there will be no more news from me until after I get away.

Saw “Stage door canteen” at the pictures Sat night. Just a show.

Hope you are feeling well & are not getting too bats for public circulation.  Be good until you see me again.  Shall probably arrive at Martin Place about 4.30 pm one bright day.  Bring the Ponty in & we’ll give Coys a slight break.  [Harold and Bassie Coy ran the Hotel Hunters Hill, a favoured drinking spot of Wep and Jess.]  Haven’t missed the grog up here.  If it’s not about you don’t need it.  Lots of love dear.

Bill.

Unidentified War Correspondent, possibly a photographer, at Roun
Unidentified War Correspondent, possibly a photographer, at Rouna Falls, near Port Moresby, New Guinea
A native Fuzzy Wuzzy at Rouna Falls, near Port Moresby, New Guin
A native Fuzzy Wuzzy at Rouna Falls, near Port Moresby, New Guinea

War Letters – New Guinea: 1-2 Feb 1944; Ramu Valley, Guy’s Post & Shaggy Ridge

Australian Red Cross Society letterhead
W.E. Pidgeon
c/o P.R. Unit
N. G. Force
Moresby

Tues 1 Feb [1944]

Sweetheart,

Advanced Dressing Station, Guy’s Post, New Guinea

Am writing from an Advanced Dressing Station i.e. a base where surgeons work closest to the front line.  Fortunately for the troops there is only one wounded casualty here at the moment, and from all information on the state of the war up here there are not likely to be any more.  The Jap is definitely on the way out.

W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) at work in the Upper Ramu Valley, Papua New Guinea – Published in The Australian Women’s Weekly, 18 March 1944, p9 – The watercolour sketch appears to be the preliminary layout for Evacuating Wounded – Ramu Valley

I’m somewhat limp after an afternoon stroll (?) up a mountain 200 ft higher than the spot where I now sit.  All in all that damned ridge is about 4000 ft above sea level.  God knows how the soldiers carried their packs (and the boongs the supplies for them) up these exhausting peaks.  They must have been superhuman – it was all I could do to cart myself up.

Study for Evacuating wounded-Ramu Valley

The scenery round here is really magnificent.  There’s nothing like it in Australia.  Clouds encircling the mountains half way and passing fogs crown the peaks up to 4000 ft.  The hills are treeless except for dark writhing tangles which follow the eroded creek beds slashing down the sides.  Imagine the hills of Picton much more precipitous, higher & sharp edged on top – so sharp are some that only one man could cross the saddle at one time – as green or greener than those I painted.

W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) takes time for a cuppa on a ridge line in the Upper Ramu Valley, Papua New Guinea

After struggling to the top of this bloody mountain I came across some of the lads coming down.  We sat & had a cigarette – they said they were Pioneers.  I asked about Lloyd Martin1Pvt. Harold Lloyd Martin known as Lloyd, Service Number – NX96972, 2/2nd Aust. Pioneer Bn and blow me down if he didn’t come round the track.  I introduced myself.  He was camped right on the top and all around were the most magnificent views.  We had a cuppa which seemed to help me along.  Then down the hill in practically a straight line & at a 45º angle.  God! Did my legs wobble at the bottom.  Unbelievable that I should really come across anyone in such a casual fashion in such a hell of an area as N. Guinea.  However, it happened.  He said that he had had a letter but two days before from his sister2Mrs Joyce Elizabeth Farrar (nee Martin), Flat 1, 103 Northwood Road, Northwood saying that I was on my way.  The family resemblance is unmistakeable.

Unidentified War Correspondent, possibly a photographer, joins Wep in a a cuppa on a ridge line in the Upper Ramu Valley, Papua New Guinea

Tomorrow I am on my way up an even higher mount to a Ridge that has been well in the news.  Heaven help me, even though I shall have a boong3Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels were native Papua New Guineans who assisted the Australian war effort. They carried stretchers, stores and sometimes wounded diggers directly on their shoulders over some of the toughest terrain in the world. – Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels. (2024, January 17). Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fuzzy_Wuzzy_Angels to carry my paint box.

15

That’s a picture to delight your heart. “Squire Pidgeon and Boong ascend the Hairy Mount.”  The password for tomorrow is “Excelsior”.  I’m definitely & most positively NOT looking forward to it.  But the show must go on – albeit over my wracked & blistered body.

A native Fuzzy Wuzzy in the Upper Ramu Valley, Papua New Guinea

By the way, I am not the least less on the nose!  The ground is wet with my honest sweat.

I think this hurricane lamp I’m using is about to give up the ghost any tick of the clock!

Will soon retire to my stretcher.  I’m sleeping under native built grass roof in the malarial ward.  I am not a patient.  It is merely that I have been offered the hospitality of the base.  The food here is the best that I have had in N.G.  The cook was a chef at Scott’s of Melbourne so I guess he knows how to put even tinned meat & vegetables together.  And have I had beans?  Am not really eating well – don’t seem to be able to muster up any enthusiasm for the same damned stuff.  Had alleged fresh meat the other day.  Tasted (which word is an euphemism for it) like well worn saddle leather.  I just couldn’t make the grade.

Have been taking my prophylactic daily dose of anti-malaria pills.  In time they dye the old bod a fine shade of tangerine with the exception of the finger nails which appear to become whiter.  Generally, a very smart effect, especially on persons of sallow complexion which acquires a rare old mahogany hue.  I am approaching a very delicate pale primrose on the hands.  Perhaps I’ll give you some real colour on my return.  The boys say it has the same effects on the old doings as quinine.  But what do I care – I aint goin’ no place.

I do hope you are really looking after yourself – eating, drinking moderately & keeping the old clods up on a chair or something, or anything that does for something.

Hope the family are still pottering along alright.

Regards to the Hunter Hillbillys [friends from Hunters Hill – King Watson and other drinking partners].  Even a schooner of Tooheys would cause a riot up here.  N.G. is absolutely dry.  I haven’t had a drink since Townsville.  The boys at Moresby took a dim view of my alcoholless arrival.

Lots of love darling, Bill

P.S. The tea guzzling up here is staggering – every few minutes someone is making tea – if you’re not in the camp drinking the fairly lousy stuff you’re drinking it at a Salvation Army or YMCA inn along the road somewhere.

More love XXX

Evacuating Wounded-Ramu Valley, New Guinea
W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) at work in the Upper Ramu Valley, Papua New Guinea
W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) at work in the Upper Ramu Valley, Papua New Guinea

Wed.  Feb 2 6.30 pm.

Jaysus! Do I feel sick!  Have just done a very rough and very wobbly sketch of a fellow having his knee opened up by two field surgeons.  Do they cut ‘em up!

Knee operation at an Advanced Dressing Station at Guy’s Post in the upper Ramu Valley, New Guinea

I’ve seen all the operations I want to for many a day.  It was touch and go whether I would make a ninny of myself by throwing up on the spot!  The day was saved by my extra rapid scrawl and an attempted wise look indicating the completion of my sketch.  Phew!  I bet I dream about it.

All that on top of tea which made me belch like hell & a slight sickness of exhaustion.

Shaggy Ridge, Ramu Valley, Papua New Guinea

I’ve been up and own the blasted mountains today my love.  Started at 8.30 am & didn’t return to the camp till nearly 5 pm.  Felt completely buggered and far from home.  My knees are like jelly – my heels are sore from the thumping I gave them on the way down the mount.  Banged all the nails through into my anything but calloused heels (incidentally it’s dammed cold at the moment – and raining too –a perfect setting for a first class whinge).

Study – On Shaggy Ridge, looking across to the Pimple, 5600 feet above sea level, dominating the Ramu Valley, New Guinea

Well I have at least seen Shaggy Ridge and what a hell of a place it is. Heaven only knows how the boys took it over from the Jap.  On either side of a track only wide enough for one.  The earth face walls near sheer nearly 200 or 300 ft & the top of it was riddled with fox holes.  It is all beyond me I’ll have to get hold of one of the crowd that did  it to tell me all about it.

Study for Ascending the Pimple

Don’t think I’ll write anything more tonight darling.  Am feeling too depressingly tired.  Keep a couple of gals4Gallons of petrol for picking me up at Martin Place.  I aim to be home this month via Flying Boat.

Hope you are OK.

I might get a letter in a few days – hope so.
Lots of love –from

Plugga Pidge
the boy wit de wobbly knees.

13

I really think my mountaineering days are over.

Moderation is the keyword for today.

love XX

Bill

Squire Wep and faithful 'boongs' ascend Shaggy Ridge; reproduced
Squire Wep and faithful ‘boongs’ ascend Shaggy Ridge; reproduced The Australian Women’s Weekly, 18 March 1944, p9.
On Shaggy Ridge – Reproduced, The Australian Women’s Weekly, June 10, 1944, p40
Ascending the Pimple – Reproduced, The Australian Women’s Weekly, June 10, 1944, p40

Notes:

  • 1
    Pvt. Harold Lloyd Martin known as Lloyd, Service Number – NX96972, 2/2nd Aust. Pioneer Bn
  • 2
    Mrs Joyce Elizabeth Farrar (nee Martin), Flat 1, 103 Northwood Road, Northwood
  • 3
    Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels were native Papua New Guineans who assisted the Australian war effort. They carried stretchers, stores and sometimes wounded diggers directly on their shoulders over some of the toughest terrain in the world. – Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels. (2024, January 17). Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fuzzy_Wuzzy_Angels
  • 4
    Gallons of petrol

War Letters – New Guinea: 31 Jan 1944; Moved out to the upper Ramu Valley

W.E. Pidgeon
C/O Public Relations
N. G. Forces
Moresby

Mon 31st [Jan 1944]

Darling,

Am settled down in a permanent base at last.  Although I shall probably be in the mountains north of here most of the time I can at least have any letters you have written forwarded to me this area.

Yesterday I hitch-hiked out of Finschhafen, managing a jeep ride through prodigious jungle to an airstrip.  After coming out of the really dense but only moderately high jungle around the areas in which  I was these enormous tree were singularly impressive.  Some seemed at least 200 ft high the trunks barely discernible beneath the profusion of  parasitic vines orchids lichens and stag horns. The trunks thrusting like spears towards the light above – not much foliage in the dank darkness beneath the high green canopy.  It’s a damn sight more satisfactory to see the country by road than it is either by air or sea.  The details, the small and the undergrowth noise of birds and insects provide an intimacy quite lacking in those other forms of transport.

Lae looked no better to me on a second visit.  Everything seems dry and blasted as well it might be after the pounding it received.  Flying up the Ramu valley is everything Tommy1Frederick Thomas O’Dea said it was – a hell of a lot more into the bargain.  Now that was a trip to be seen from a plane.  The most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.  The brilliant green kunai grass along the flats edging the Ramu River makes its way up the treeless & knife edged foot hills to the bases of two colossal mountain ranges which enclosed the valley.  The clouds wind the depressions between peaks & plume off the highest points in great dramatic forms.  The unbelievable blues & greens below edge off into the sombre silhouettes of mountains like Mt Helwig which is 10,000 ft.  The fading light throughs the clouds into the starkness of black & white.  Small grey thatched native villages appear at irregular intervals and I leapt from window to window of the plane with the alacrity of a flea.

US Army Douglas C47 transport plane, 3 Sep 1942 – PASSED BY CENSOR. PHOTO NO. 13170. ISSUED BY DEPARTMENT OF INFORMATION COMMONWEALTH OF AUSTRALIA. TROOPS IN NEW GUINEA PLACE CONSIDERABLE RELIANCE UPON THE AIR TRANSPORT SERVICE FROM THE MAINLAND WHICH PLAYS A BIG PART IN KEEPING THEM SUPPLIED WITH NECESSARY STORES. AIRCRAFT OF A TYPE USED ON COMMERCIAL ROUTES IN AMERICA ARE EMPLOYED IN THESE NEW GUINEA OPERATIONS, AND PILOTS ARE DRAWN FROM U.S. ARMY AND R.A.A.F. PERSONNEL. STORES ARE TRANSPORTED FROM THE MAINLAND. A transport aircraft arriving from the mainland at one of the New Guinea bases. The arrival of these aircraft is the occasion of much excitement among the local natives. See also https://www.awm.gov.au/collection/C32644

There were only 3 passengers in the plane (a big Douglas transport job loaded to the plimsoll with tins of dehydrated potatoes, soup, ration tins & what have you).    It seemed a long time getting off the ground – the tail did not appear to lift any too well.  My stomach anxiously awaited the disappearance of the strip beneath.  Next thing I know is that my guts are trying to get on the other side of my backbone – we had gone into a steep climb.  Next we are over the grassy foothills so low that the bloody stuff seemed to be whizzing past the windows.  Cripes I’ll bet the pilot cleared the ridges by only 4 feet.  Then the grass on the plains would appear suspiciously close.  I would think we were losing height because of the weight of cargo – then up and back the guts would go again.  If it hadn’t been for the scenery the trip would have been an anxious misery.

Found on landing that we had been brought up by a Yank known as the Mad Major.  He tosses these Douglas’s round like fighters.  He has been seen doing loops and slow rolls with them.  Too much bloody exuberance.  Strangely enough he was no chicken although a big wildly laughing guy.  I am told he was grounded for recklessness whilst with a Lightning fighter squadron. Ah me!

If you see Mrs Farrow or Farrar, the dame down the road2Mrs Joyce Elizabeth Farrar (nee Martin), Flat 1, 103 Northwood Road, Northwood, you can tell her that I have nearly met her brother.3Pvt. Harold Lloyd Martin known as Lloyd, Service Number – NX96972, 2/2nd Aust. Pioneer Bn  I found the 2/2nd Pioneer Battalion but he wasn’t in the particular company I came across.  I may meet him tomorrow.  This beautiful country belies its looks – it’s lousy with all the worst tropical plagues, itches – and worse things.

This is by far the best camp I have stayed in.   Good food – fairly cool – plenty of birds decent tents & native built huts – and amicable company.  The press advance headquarters are here and 2 P.R. officers to look after us.  4 or 5 correspondents are here at the moment.  So its just like living in the Journalists’ Club except that there is no tasty ale.

While I think of it, will you ring Syd King, police roundsman at the office & ask him how much my betting debt is.  Then post him a check.  Thankyou, my pet.

Nothing else at the moment.  Have not been able to get a letter from you yet but hope to receive some from Moresby when I come out of them there hills.  I have two days march in front of me after leaving the jeep track head.  Boy will I be weak.  May have a boong carrier to help me along.

Hope you are looking after yourself. Lots of love darling.

Bill

18

Native huts near a field hospital at Guy’s Post in the Ramu Valley, New Guinea
Native huts near a field hospital at Guy’s Post in the Ramu Valley, New Guinea

Notes:

  • 1
    Frederick Thomas O’Dea
  • 2
    Mrs Joyce Elizabeth Farrar (nee Martin), Flat 1, 103 Northwood Road, Northwood
  • 3
    Pvt. Harold Lloyd Martin known as Lloyd, Service Number – NX96972, 2/2nd Aust. Pioneer Bn

War Letters – New Guinea: 29 Jan 1944, Finschhafen; Scarlet Beach, Field hospital

W.E. Pidgeon
C/O PR Unit
N. G. Force
Moresby

Sat 29th [Jan 1944]

Dear Jesso,

Have just returned to our Canvas Palace after an arty evening under the stars, vines, clouds and fire flies listening to highbrow music as dispensed by some amiable sergeant for the benefit of the boys.  It was very pleasant – cool too, for a change.  We’re not asleep I bent my wandering brain to appreciation of the note.

12

We returned with the help of fireflies to where Hodgkinson promptly lies down “dreaming my love of thee,” The bastard’s bats!

Am moving out tomorrow on my way to the upper end of Ramu Valley.  Should be able to get the best of possible stuff up there.  Seems a year since I left home – all recollections of the lawn mowing week are vague and almost remote. I’ve packed so much into my popping eyes in the last fortnight.  Roy will be staying on down here completing his magnus opus.  I shall probably meet Dargie1Captain William Dargie. (2024, January 16). Retrieved from https://www.awm.gov.au/collection/P65046 up there.  Which reminds me I saw a par. in “Guinea Gold” (the soldiers’ paper) that there has been a wonderful stink about the Archibald Prize award.  Nothing like a lively bout between artists.2The 1944 prize was awarded to William Dobell with a portrait of Joshua Smith which was being challenged in court as not a portrait but a caricature. The award to Dobell was eventually upheld. Wep made a famous cartoon of the court scene during the trial.

Casualty Clearing Station at Heldsbach Mission near Scarlet Beach in the Finshhafen area, New Guinea

Went over to a field hospital3Believed to be the 2/3rd Casualty Clearing Station situated at the Heldsbach Mission about 1 mile from Scarlet Beach today but didn’t get much out of it – most of those places are all the same.

Dental examination at a Field Hospital near Scarlet Beach in the Finschhafen area, New Guinea

Managed to make a note of the dental corner.  A picture of a soldier getting his teeth drilled may strike a sympathetic chord in the Weekly’s readers.  Undoubtedly the most momentous occasion of the day was the decent shower I had up there.  It was the first time I have had a proper wash since arriving in this area – Boy!  Was it good. – For ½ hour anyway.  After that I was as sweaty as ever.

I may be able to settle down to a better letter when I have this Tower of Babble.  In the other areas I shall probably be alone.

Will write you in a couple of days – all my love darling.

Not too much hops, mark you and feet up.  Regards to all More love from Willie

(written on side)

Enclosed petals look like hibiscus but are off a tree nothing like.  It was apricot colour when I picked it.  There’s a brilliant blue butterfly floating round dis ‘ere camp.

Medical inspection tent, near Finschhafen, New Guinea
Medical Inspection, Finschhafen, New Guinea
Casualty Clearing Station at Heldsbach Mission near Scarlet Beach in the Finshhafen area, New Guinea

Casualty Clearing Station at Heldsbach Mission near Scarlet Beach in the Finshhafen area, New Guinea

 

 

Notes:

  • 1
    Captain William Dargie. (2024, January 16). Retrieved from https://www.awm.gov.au/collection/P65046
  • 2
    The 1944 prize was awarded to William Dobell with a portrait of Joshua Smith which was being challenged in court as not a portrait but a caricature. The award to Dobell was eventually upheld. Wep made a famous cartoon of the court scene during the trial.
  • 3
    Believed to be the 2/3rd Casualty Clearing Station situated at the Heldsbach Mission about 1 mile from Scarlet Beach

War Letters – New Guinea: 28 Jan 1944, Finschhafen; Scarlet Beach, on the nose

W.E. Pidgeon
C/O P.R. Unit
N. G. Forces
Moresby

28th Frid
[28 Jan 1944]

Darling,

We have another lamp – scrounged from the same poor simple soul from whom we borrowed the remains of last night’s signal lamp.

Roy sits opposite writing his new sweetie (brunette & beautiful and with husband in internment camp) and punctuating the oppressing stillness of the night with requests regarding the correctitude of his spelling.  The old garrulity with less physical actions.  He writes like he talks – it pours out of him, pages flash past on the blink of an eye.

I haven’t had a clean shirt on since I hit Finschhafen.  The one I wear at present has the odour & appearance of a tarpaulin from one of Gearin O’Riordan’s trucks.  The other is still wet from its rinsing in a creek down by the beach.  Although I am as pleasant a little nosegay as one would find in many a week.  A European Gorgonzola would walk away from me with a peg on its snout.

19

Now that the lamp is here I find myself regretting not having brought that New Testament with me as with its kindly simplicity I could have killed a few hours before sealing myself up in the meat safe up yonder bank.

You have guessed, I hope my uninspiring letters are due to the overwhelming enervation of the tropics plus the lack of comfort in the tent.  I’m sitting on an oil drum with grinds of flesh off my behind, my eyes are full of coral dust – I’m due to start turning yellow from surfeit of Atabrin tablets (to suppress malarial infection) from neglect of taking salt tablets which they say are necessary to counteract the excessive loss of bodily salt in sweat, and God knows what else. The half if me that is alive is tolerably happy.

I don’t know particularly what to draw as under the present conditions camp life is practically synonymous with that in the N.T. Make it all green & the jobs done.

Went about 8 miles down the Road this afternoon1Most likely this was to Sattelburg where Wep sketched VC winner, Sgt, Tom (Diver) Derrick who won his VC at the Battle of Sattelburg. Battle of Sattelberg. (2024, January 16). Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Sattelberg – hitch hiked in half a dozen different trucks.  May just have well flown as I was in the air at least half the time.

4

Sgt. T.C. (Diver) Derrick, V.C., D.C.M. – From a sketch made at Scarlet Beach, New Guinea by our artist, W.E. Pidgeon; The Australian Women’s Weekly, 13 May 1944, p1

I forgot to give you a rough idea of what I look like in jungle green & American garters.  Of course the Japs just flee squealing for the son of Heaven at such an apparition.

5

In front of me is a picture reconstruction of a beach landing for official War Artist Cpt R C Hodgkinson Military History Section.

6

The light is going out for want of kerosene.  Bugger me – this is the sort of thing that slays one!  I can just see you now.  Everything is going black – it’s quite black now.

Later – we have managed to get some more kerosene, whacko the diddle-o!  I’m not smelling any better – even the skunks are moving out.  I don’t’ mind that so much but I seem to be bringing in the flies.  Soon I shall thwart them in my little meat safe.

7

Am putting off going to the blarsted hammock.  12 hours of posing in various uncomfortable postures is much too much of a good thing even for a body like mine – “booful hunk of a man! These are the basic positions.

8

Notes:

  • 1
    Most likely this was to Sattelburg where Wep sketched VC winner, Sgt, Tom (Diver) Derrick who won his VC at the Battle of Sattelburg. Battle of Sattelberg. (2024, January 16). Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Sattelberg

War Letters – New Guinea: 27 Jan 1944, Finschhafen; Scarlet Beach and an afternoon swim

W.E. Pidgeon
C/O P.R. Unit
N. G. Forces
Moresby

Thurs 27th Jan [1944]

Darling,

Am writing by a 1 candle power lamp which as the mood suits the letter may be changed to cast either red, green or white light.  Green is the color called for but unfortunately its illuminative qualities are quite on the blink.

Red is not helpful.

Roy H is under his mosquito net growling about things in general and about the job he is on in particular.  He has to reconstruct a beach landing made here a couple of months ago. Not the best of jobs in the world with the extremely limited facilities available.  He has just yelled out his regards to you.  Alice comes in for a lit of cracks – appears she had all sorts of affairs.  Roy laughs a lot about it all.  Says she is stinking to the girl he now takes out.

Today is about the first time I have felt human since I arrived.  Possibly because I have done a bit of modest work and am settled down for a few days.  Am going round to the Casualty Clearing Station to see if there is anything of interest for the Weekly.  Should be because the nurses there are closer to the front lines than any others.  Did I tell you I travelled from Moresby in the plane with them?  Fifteen there were, and no beauties amongst them.  After that off to the Ramu Valley.

Sketch study for ‘Barges and Swimmers’ depicting Australian troops sun bathing and swimming off two wrecked Japanese barges at Scarlet Beach near Finschhafen, New Guinea

We had a swim this afternoon – it was delightful.  Crystal water – cool, refreshing.  Bombers going Japwards overhead.  Lots of lads in the water & on the beach. We’re getting pretty sick of the sight of bare bums & privates.

Barges and Swimmers – Depicting Australian troops sun bathing and swimming off two wrecked Japanese barges at Scarlet Beach near Finschhafen, New Guinea
Censorship Pass Expires 2/12/43.
Passed by Operational Censor.
Photo No. 16063. Issued by Department of Information, Commonwealth of Australia.
New Guinea. Finschhafen Area. 37 dead Japanese were counted in these two wrecked barges at Scarlet Beach.

Friday morning [28 Jan 1944]

Disaster overtook this letter last night.  Roy had borrowed this lamp I spoke of above from the Signallers – they implored him to look after it.  At the above stage of my letter the bloody thing caught fire & I couldn’t for the life of me blow it out.  All my puffing & blowing served to feed the flames turning the whole gazaboo into the finest of blow lamps.  The solder melted reflector and handle fell off – flaming kerosene spilled on Roy’s drawing board – he was in a panic for his work – I was busy shovelling sand (rather mud) over the blaze.

The lamps was a sorry sight.  We laughed ourselves sick.  Must have done me good for I slept till 6am.

Lots of love darling – Taking it easy?

Bill.

War Letters – New Guinea: 26 Jan 1944, Finschhafen; Scarlet Beach, snug as a bug

W.E. Pidgeon
C/o P R Unit
N. G. Forces
Moresby

Wed 25th 26th or 27th
[26 Jan 1944]

Darling,

How would you be feeling this morning?  Taking it easy on the verandah?  Keeping the mosquitoes off?  I am managing that quite well now that I have commandeered a decent American hammock from the P. Relations.

Hammock with built in mosquito net and rain roof, Scarlet Beach Camp near Finschhafen, New Guinea

A legitimate transaction I hasten to add it’s a very flash doover – a hammock with waterproof roof and walls of mosquito net joined together with zippers.  In I hops & does myself up like a ruddy meat safe while the anoppeles wave frustrated stingers without.

Hammock with built in mosquito net and rain roof, Scarlet Beach Camp near Finschhafen, New Guinea

Am in another camp again.  Have pitched tent with Roy Hodgkinson & another fellow.  I’m praising the place when I say it’s a pretty dreary joint.  I’m told it is typical of a forward site.  No lights, so these letters are written hastily after tea.  I haven’t done a drawing in your letters yet because I’ve been too b- sour.  Last night I slept or rather attempted to, on a bed of coral covered with a ground sheet and a blanket.

Trucks coming & going all night & 3 air raid alerts.  I suppose I managed a couple of hours shuteye before my hip bone wore through the skin like a hole in the heel of a sock. That’s 2 nights out of 4 I have been awake since I arrived on the northern coast of N. Guinea.  Haven’t done much work so far for the simple reason I have not been able to settle down. On two occasions the camps have shifted their sites the day after I arrived.  The humidity is terrific.  I wish they’d have this show on down near the pole or someplace like.  My brain’s like a soggy lump of porridge.

After about 4 or 5 days here I’ll move off to the Ramu Valley, spend maybe a week or more & start back for the Mainland where I shall have to go on to the tablelands for a week.  Then back – I hope.  The rush has got me something rattled.  However I have about 5 pictures lined up already – should have any amount by the time I get through.

Thurs Morning [27 Jan 1944] – Not much sleep again last night – seem to be taking your complaint over.  First rain last night.  Came down in sheets.  My sweet little hammock kept it off.

Hope you are eating well.

How did that brew turn out?

My regards to junior.

Lots of love

Bill

error: Content is protected !!