War Letters Archives - Page 4 of 8

August 5, 2023August 1, 2023

War Letters – NW Australia: 5 Aug 1943, Livingstone Airfield; With the boys of a Spitfire squadron

W.E. Pidgeon
C/O DPR Unit
Army Post Office
Darwin

Wednesday
[4 Aug 1943]

Dear Jess,

Been quite an exhausting day. Plenty hot and plenty weak. However I pulled my gizzard up & got stuck into the work of drawing some fighter planes.

Clive (Killer) Caldwell’s Spitfire, CR-C, A58-484; Aug 1943

They’re sleek jobs and surprisingly small. You don’t get much idea of their performance when seen on duty flights around this district. Rarely are they flown flat out except in combat. After seeing them on the ground dirty dented & camouflaged you’d think they weren’t worth a plateful of cold tapioca pudding. But the boys like them.

The pilots are all hellishly young. The average age being about 22. The Squadron leader looks youngest of all like a bit of a school kid.

Believed to be Squadron Leader Ken James, commander of RAAF 457 Squadron

They have all had English experience & are a good bright lot. I get along very well with them as they are friendly & informal. The binge last night served well in breaking the ice. Almost all were as full as bulls. Incidently none of the crowd seem to like the journalists much. Being an artist makes everything so much easier. Tell Tommy there is a bit of a hoon up here – name of Pilot Officer Larry Alderson – says he knew him well in N.G. Gloria’s husband Flight Loot Newton isn’t a bad sort of bloke – Looks after me well. I still haven’t managed to buy anyone a drink. One is not allowed to – they insist on my being a guest.

Members of RAAF 457 Squadron join each other at the mess near Livingstone
L-R: FLTLT John Sefton Newton of Beaufort Vic., FLTLT E.S. Hall of Quirindi NSW, SQNLDR K.E. James of Frankston Vic., FLGOFF I.S. Mackenzie of Orange NSW, FLTLT D. Maclean of Rabaul and barman LAC Fred Storey. (Photo: Harold George Dick, 11 Aug 1943, Department of Information Official Photographer)

A big crowd of bomber pilots were also down last night. The film was fast & furious.

There’s some blasted thing I should tell you but for the life of me I can’t remember it. Guess it’ll come later.

Yes! I’ve got it! Do you recollect the air force medical officers at that party of Tilly’s² at which Bill Brindle³ & his wife were present. One of the crowd from up the road turned out to be one of them. He is now a Wing Commander. He was then a Fl. Lieutenant so he’s managed to step up very nicely.

Flash – last night two of the pilots after a sufficient steeping in the fiery juices set off on journey back to tent. One – hopelessly lost curled up on the floor of a brother officers tent. The other made the grade & work about an hour later with the tent in flames around him. Much hilarity whilst domicile was razed to the ground.

May be off to see “In which we serve”⁴ tonight – that is – if I don’t get sucked into the alcoholic vortex which is apparently about to swirl any tick of the clock.

I’m still not 100%.

It doesn’t look as if I’ll be down by the 24^th.⁵ You will probably forgive me but it would be best for me not to dash down without properly doing the place over. I’d love to be there. However have a good dinner. Get that or the other casserole or what ever you like – go to £20. With love from your devoted, Willie.

Thursday [5 Aug 1943]

Bad show I didn’t mail the above pages this morning. I went up to the strip with a crowd of pilots at 6.30am and arrived by at 4pm. Consequently missed the bus, I mean the mail.

This blarsted country is full of things wot bite. Between the heat & the wogs I’m as knobbly as a mills bomb.

All day the fighter lads lounge about inside their dispersal hut (near the ‘drome) in attitudes crooked but horizontal.

There they remain, with but slight variation waiting for the call to arms. One morning early at least 4 of them were asleep when an alert came over. Like trains through a station they were off & in the air. Fortunately the aircraft responsible for the alarm was identified as friendly.

The weather seems to be getting hotter. Myself more enervated. Sweat rolls off me – thirsty ants swim up my cascading body & quaff the salty juices. Beaut-O!

There’s been quite a lot of feeling that it’s near time the yellow men come over. They sunk a ship a few days ago & have been fairly active. A couple of months have passed since they did anything and the fighter lads are anxious to have a crack at them to relieve the boredom.

Hope Harold Coy has been behaving.⁶ Also the damned old Ponty.⁷ You poor darling I dare say Jane⁸ has been giving you the real works. Is Tommy⁹ up north indefinitely?

Hope Dossie’s little girl doesn’t have 6 tits – it’ll be awful hard to find a beau with 6 hands.

Some bear bandit or other has got down on my bottle whilst Iwas away. That’s the sort of thing that leads to lynching in this h’yar country. You can as King from me – Where is the Ethics Committee of the A.J.A?¹⁰ What are they doing about it all? When are they going to send a missionary up here?

That there smudge is sweat.

Which reminds me you mentioned Turkish Baths. Haven’t you had any? Why don’t you go away somewhere for a couple of weeks? It’s getting right hot, mu chickadee. I’m afraid this climate would suit you down to the ground. I can’t see how one could stay very flat what with all this here perspiring going on.

Don’t get too morbid, honey. It won’t be long before I’m home. How’s the houses for sale? Why don’t you go around and have a look at a few just to get an idea of value, etc.¹¹ I can’t think of anything for the flairs.

When its winter
Way down yonder
It’s a pint’er
Beer I ponder
And a bit er bread
An’ butter an’ a sponge

Which reminds me how’s frige behaving?

Lots of love from yours meltingly,

Willie.

[On top of 1^st page is a note written by another person]

Hello Jess you beautiful thing I love you despite all absences(?).

Yours

(?) x [indecipherable]

That goes for me too

Willie

Believed to be members of RAAF 457 Squadron, Livingstone Airfield

Dispersal room at a fighter squadron, Livingstone Airfield

Snooze in the sun for a weary pilot, The Australian Women’s Weekly, 20 Nov 1943, p9

Notes:

1
Wep must have obtained a print of this photo with F/L Newton in it taken by official photographer Harold Dick a week after Wep’s visit. It is also reproduced in Darwin Spitfires; the real battle for Australia by Anthony Cooper 2022, pp132-133
2
Australian Women’s Weekly journalist Adele ‘Tilly’ Shelton-Smith was the first woman to travel from Australia in 1941 to report from an overseas military theatre in Malaya.
3
William Brindle was a Daily Telegraph photographer
4
In Which We Serve (1942) starring Noel Coward starring
5
Wep and Jess 10th wedding anniversary
6
Harold and Bassie Coy ran the Hotel Hunters Hill, a favoured drinking spot of Wep and Jess
7
Wep’s 1935 Pontiac 8
8
Mary Jane Graham (nee Wray), Jess’s mother
9
Tommy O’Dea was the former General Manager of Guinea Air in Papua New Guinea. He joined the air force but following a major crash in New Guinea he transfered to the Royal Australian Navy as a Coast Watcher
10
Australian Journalists’ Association
11
Wep and Jess moved to 85 Northwood Road, Northwood in mid 1940. They were initially renting the property and ultimately purchased it in August 1944 from Harry Charles Allan, Assistant Secretary of the Department of the Navy

August 4, 2023August 11, 2023

War Letters – NW Australia: 4 Aug 1943, Livingstone Airfield; Arrived at the Fighter strip

W.E. Pidgeon
C/O DPR
A.P.O. Darwin

Wed.
[4 Aug 1943]

Sweetheart,

A hurried line to tell you I’ve arrived at the fighter strip. Tuesday being beer issue night was willing. I will write you details tonight as I’m just scribbling this to make sure you get a letter a day (to keep admirers away). Am feeling queer. – What again! – They’re a fine bunch of kids down here.

Will write you at length this evening. So be content with reciprocated love & hugs & kisses

from poor

Willie.

August 3, 2023August 16, 2023

War Letters – NW Australia: 3 Aug 1943, Darwin; Reviewing the N.W. Navy

W.E. Pidgeon
C/O DPR Unit
Army Post Office
Darwin

Monday night
[2 Aug 1943]

Dear Jesso,

I may as well carry on with the news concluded by the letter I posted you by today’s mail. As I’m going down the road tomorrow I won’t be writing. This letter will serve that day’s purpose as it won’t get away from here until then. This week I am staying with a fighter squadron under the command of Caldwell¹ – shall probably meet Flutter eye Gloria’s husband – I believe he is with the same bunch.²

Thanks for thinking about my lack of amenities. I’m running somewhat short – only 24 large packets left.

I hope Tommy³ got as much out of his drawing as he hoped for. Selina is dopey alright. Are you still getting plenty of steak over there?

The thing has started off again – Gawd help us! Tap-tap-tap-BLOODY TAP! This will be damn short – I get into such a helluva bate (?). It’s worse than being in a machine gun nest with all guns firing and hailstones beating on my tin hat. I’m not deaf enough to take it – Tap – tap – taP – tAP – TAP TAPTAP! – and so on.

I’ll write you tomorrow some time – or else wait till the bastards go to bed. Up’em!

[3 Aug 1943]

Next morning – Much quieter – I am by far the earliest bird up here, all of which doesn’t help catch the non existent worms, but it’s plumb peaceful like. Inside, spines are slowly being zipped into action, razors being flapped, and kidneys drained in preparation for a general exodus down the road in the wake of the Governor-General who has begun his tour of inspection.

Aboard HMAS Kookaburra during the steam past of all the naval vessels in the area

Yesterday he reviewed the N.W. navy such as it was.⁴ We got out onto the flagship⁵ & under panicky directions of some naval lieut. allowed ourselves to be hid behind pipes, vents, doors, etc so that the G.G.’s august vision would not be defiled by the sight of the lowly non-combatant press correspondents. It was wretched farce – the boys have wiped the navy or so they say. Seems more like to me the navy doesn’t care about the press. The review of passing ships was catastrophic. Some of the old tubs couldn’t make any speed against the out-running tide, with the unhappy consequent cancellation of part of the programme.

The tide, by the way, has a rise & fall of 20 ft and as the approaches to the land here are very shallow the water when it gets a move on races like one thing. In the harbour I believe it does about 5-6 knots and in the creeks about 10. I’ve seen it coming in on the creeks – it moves alright. The harbour is a big one with an average width & foreshores much like Botany Bay. Because of its lack of depth the water is quite green. Here and there the side of a sunken ship rises up. Somewhere else the masts & funnel of another stick forlornly & ridiculously out to provide parking stations for the few sea birds to be seen in these parts.

Will have to leave now – have had breakfast the all are ready for the trip.

Mail came in & I have just got another of your letters – you beaut. Haven’t read it yet – lots of love honey – look after yourself for Willie.

Notes:

1
Clive Robert (Killer) Caldwell was Acting Wing Commander in charge of RAAF No. 1 (Fighter) Wing which consisted of RAAF 452 Sqn based at Strauss Airfield, RAAF 457 Sqn based at Livingstone Airfield and RAF No 54 Sqn based at RAAF Station Darwin
2
John Sefton Newton and Gloria Olga Newton (nee Metchkoff Larsen, m 1943. F/L John Sefton Newton was a Stock and Station Agent. He enlisted in October 1940. Following service overseas he married Gloria in January 1943 and was was posted to NW area with 457 Sqn in mid January 1943. At the time of Wep’s visit, 457 Squadron was based at Livingstone Airfield.
3
Frederick Thomas O’Dea (1894-1975)
4
On 2 August 1943, several smaller RAN vessels steamed past, in review order, the boom defence vessel HMAS Kookaburra, which had the Governor-General of Australia, The Right Honourable Lord Gowrie, VC, PC, GCMG, CB, DSO and Bar and Lady Gowrie aboard. Lord Gowrie (Governor-General during 1938-44) was on an inspection tour of defences in northern Australia commencing with a review of the Navy in Darwin Harbour.
5
HMAS Kookaburra

August 2, 2023August 11, 2023

War Letters – NW Australia: 2 Aug 1943, Darwin; Barber’s shop in a forward area

W.E.Pidgeon
C/O DPR Unit
Army Post Office
Darwin

Monday Aug. 1 or something
[2 Aug 1943]

Darling,

Sorry I growled about there being no letters from you. Very little mail arrived for anyone last week. Must have been some hitch. Happily I received two this morning and was thereby much delighted.

What - No Letters Blokes

You seem pretty lonely poor darling – it is obviously sickening to have to either stay home alone or still see the same faces & the same chatter. It’s lonely here as a rule when I’m not working. That is why I like to get out each week to some camp down the road and settle in to steady effort. There is a great deal round about here I want to get on to, moreover the general atmosphere of this mess is slow. At the moment all the correspondents are spine bashing. Apparently there is bugger all for them to find in the way of news with the exception of raids. Now that would be exciting if I didn’t catch a bomb. And the food up here is bloody awful. Margarine, dried eggs, macaroni pudding, stewed tea & leathered meat. That wouldn’t be so bad if the cook thought of something besides going on leave. Believe you me, I’ve been criminally spoilt.

On the beach again yesterday¹. Water really wonderful – the sunshine and Freds bountiful. I’m losing the lolly pink – changing chameleon like into tiger stripes owing to a little semi spine bashing of my own the other day. Curled up in a deck chair & came to with pink bands across my belly skin where the creases between folds of fat had been retained it lily white line. Got sunburnt on the flat yesterday – result – pink & brown now instead of original barber’s pole style. Nerves not much better – worry a bit about the job as I don’t know how I can remember all the different colour & tones of the scenes I have ideas of portraying. Most of the stuff I want to get down is of the rapid impression type –Much too quick even to get the drawing let alone tone, etc. The only painting I do is to note down appropriate backgrounds & incidentals to the job. Have written these blue lines while waiting for a haircut in a military camp.

He’s a hell of a little barber about as short & thick as a fart. An ex-ladies’ hairdresser from Farmers, or, some say Borrowmans – anyway he cuts a pretty hair. The charge is 1/- of which he gets 6^d & his unit comforts fund 6^d. You sit on a sawn off log in a parlour of the most delicate hessian. Whilst outside in the ante-room grim faced & spare witted troops purse lips and pen handle heads in the agonising concentration of writing the dear ones at home. I draw. Somebody asks how to spell Americans. I oblige.

Have returned to Happy Messy. This mail is due to go off in 10 minutes. So lots of love dear & keep on writing even if it kills you. Won’t be very long before I see you again. Thanks for the lipstick – tasted good. Love

Bill.

The Australian Women’s Weekly, 29 July 1944

Reading and writing letters whilst waiting for a haircut

Notes:

1
Most likely Mindil Beach

July 31, 2023August 11, 2023

War Letters – NW Australia: 31 Jul 1943, Darwin; Under dive bombing attack by a Mosquito squadron

W.E. Pidgeon
C/O DPR Unit
APO DARWIN

Sat. night
[31 Jul 1943]

Darling,

You’re an awful nice kid to write me long letters. I likes ‘em fine and appreciate in a big way your doing so well what with the quiet life you seem to be living. Keep it up honey – it’s a great help to hear about the poor old civilians back home. It’s great for the morale of our intrepid war correspondent. That’s the kind of battling (with bores & loud speakers) which really shakes the soul. To see you standing up to it gives me fresh heart and a sterner eye. I think you are a darling. Looks as though this short separation helps somehow. Makes us think more about each other & how to be nicer in both large and tiny ways. Wish you were here for me to give a big hug & kiss. (platonic like?)

The mosquito craft are zooming about in token formations, manoeuvring into position. I’ve already received a few direct hits but retaliating have got 4 destroyed, 6 probable, and 32 near misses. There is no thought of my evacuating – I shall carry on in glory, in honor, and in love. It must in all fairness be reported that had the enemy be backed by squadrons of sand flies retreat would have been both rapid and inevitable. I have never seen a sandfly. They must have some sort of radio direction finding equipment especially tuned to my wave length. They never miss. The inverted craters scaring my beyootiful body bear ample witness to the efficiency of their aiming. I am not in the hunt.

A constant drone of war reminiscences slithers round the corner of the mess but, thank God, no tap-tapping blasts the sub-tropic heaviness of the night. In fact it appears highly probable that there will be no rude & hearty interruptions to my pleasant solitude. It’s a hell of a problem to be alone in any sort of comfort. And I could do with a spot of nice cold weather – Cripes – think of all that snow going to waste!

2 more of the enemy crashed screaming to their doom. 6 more near misses. Am becoming quite an ace – what?

Have just applied methylated spirits to my sand fly bites.

Have also practically recovered from the correspondents’ occupational disease – motor car arse and/or crumpled coccyx.

George Finey¹ wrote me too, the old villain, a very nice note telling me not to bust the poor old boiler. Tomorrow I’ll settle down to a field day of letter writing. Whilst you are shivering (and maybe drinking sherry) or even eating, ½ an hour’s mean time before me, I’ll be lolling near naked in the sunshine sopping up all sorts of light rays and vitamins. Occasionally I shall put pen to paper.

Have been to a lousy picture tonight. One could hope to escape the uncivilizing influence of Wallace Beery² at this local show – but no.

Shall put up one more ack-ack barrage before I turn in.

Anopheles, where art thou?

Time Sunday morning

Scene In the backyard young old Wep is discovered lounging in lounge – He is bare to the waist & under bright sunshine is simmering nicely giving forth sweet fleshy odors more fragrant than myrrh and sandalwood. Centre background is wire meshed kitchen. In right back is seen dimly as through a black blanc-mange a man and a bike. This man is a solid straight forward type not the sort who would make lewd use of a bike. In the foreground a grease trap & a pool covered with sludgy fat. 2 Dogs, Mim and D’ouevre sniff at pool and posteriors. As the curtain rises wep is again discovered writing to his beloved wife – anon and anon he brushes fat green ants off his bronzed gladiatorial form. A young lad, a press correspondents’ driver, enters scratching his poll.

WEP: G’day!

DRIVER: G’day!

WEP: Have a good day yesterday?

DRIVER: Upta f—ing putty! The f—ing f—ers f—– round all f—ing day & f—-ing night. And wadda the f—ing f—ers f—ing well get. F— all!

(Driver exits back centre, scratching crutch & slavering at cook house).

(CURTAIN)

Notes:

1
George Finey, caricaturist and artist was a lifetime long close friend and associate of Wep’s for around 60 years
2
Wallace Beery – American film and stage actor

July 31, 2023August 11, 2023

War Letters – NW Australia: 31 Jul 1943, Adelaide River; Formal mess at the field hospital

W.E.Pidgeon
C/O DPR
APO Darwin

Sat. morning
[31 Jul 1943]

Darling,

I wish you were here to smother me. I’m not so damn hot this, for others, gay & cheerful morning. Some wild men from the hospital fixed me up last night. My dearest wish is that they suffer with me.

After being about the hospital grounds for three days I was invited to attend their formal mess. On these occasions there is supposed to be a little ceremony attached to the business of eating. In this case it was pretty free the only formality being the smart (but not from me) standing to attention & drinking the King’s health. The port was passed – somehow or other – due either to the shortage of decanters or the shape of the table – the grog was passed the wrong way round. Previous to going over the beer ration arrived & rather than pass it by I downed the bottle with great expediency (you wouldn’t know him). Vic Bitter it were & booful cold. Had a coupla gins before dinner, then the port & back to gin after the meal. Managed to do myself up fairly nicely with 3 majors. I repeat, I am not so hot. Hangovers in hot weather are not recommended.

Am going back to the home town today. It will be a hellova treat to get some clean clothes & a spot of spine-bashing. (Why lying down on bed is called spine-bashing is beyond me.) Darling, I love you. Our old friends from Admiralty House are due up here any tick of the clock. I will not be calling on them. May leave my card though. I don’t seem to be getting through the work very rapidly. Hope to start on the air force next week. Miss you a lot. Am working diligently when hangovers are not on deck. It is bloody hot work standing at an easel during the day. I should imagine I have lost quite a bit of weight what with the sweating & lousy sleeping.

Big wedding on at Darwin this afternoon. One of the doctors going off with a sister.

Am looking forward to your letters. Quite an event to return to Correspondents’ mess & receive my mail. Forgive me, dear, not writing more at the moment. I really am very faint. The old blood pressure wouldn’t squash a fly. – Plenty of love to you darling from little Willie.

Love to Mum & Dad. Hope they got my telegram on the right day.¹

Notes:

1
Jess’s father, George Alexander Graham celebrated his 79th birthday on Sunday, August 1, 1943

July 29, 2023August 11, 2023

War Letters – NW Australia: 29 Jul 1943, Adelaide River; At a Field Hospital

C/O DPR Unit
A.P.O. Darwin

Thursday 7am
[29 Jul 1943]

Dear,

Too tired to write you last night as I’d had a strenuous day. Started about 8.30am at the Field hospital¹ – launched off 3 paintings. The sun was blazing. Sweat just rolled off me. Knocked off about 5. A heavy day. Am getting quite used to over the shoulder lookers-on. Shall be able to paint with even the Pearl², Carey, Lahm³ gang anywhere.

One of the Sisters came over & said “You’re not Wep are you?” Said she thought she recognised my face. Met me at Romanos⁴. Remember the night Arthur Mailey⁵ introduced us to a table full of Captains etc & nurses back from the Middle East. He & I were drawing.

Sorry this letter is so short. Breakfast is now ready & I’m off in a car at 8.15 back to the Hospital.

Lots & lots of love.

Bill.

The Australian Women’s Weekly, 15 January 1944, p12

Notes:

1
119 AGH at Adelaide River
2
Cyril Pearl
3
Hottie Lahm
4
Romano’s Restaurant in Sydney was frequented by Bill and Jess throughout the 1930s and 1940
5
Arthur Mailey was an Australian test cricketeer, cartoonist and journalist. Wep’s portrait of him was a finalist in the 1951 Archibald Prize.

July 27, 2023August 11, 2023

War Letters – NW Australia: 27 Jul 1943, Adelaide River; Visited a transit camp and a field hospital

C/O DPR Unit
Army Post Office
Darwin

Tuesday night
(I haven’t the foggiest idea of the date)
[27 Jul 1943]

Darling,

Didn’t have time to write you yesterday. Arrived down south¹ fairly late, about 3.30pm tired & dirty. Showered & rested. Fed – then off to pictures (what again!) where “Mrs Miniver”² was showing. It exhibited all the usual American glamorisation of sentiment & emotion. Just a show. By making this trip I have missed “In which we Serve”³ so if you haven’t seen it by this hold your horses until I return.

Probably I find myself as lonely as you do, although I can manage to submerge myself to a great extent in work. The nights all seem somehow short and useless. There is practically no ground of common contact with the people I meet. This is no doubt to be expected – Army people talk shop as much as others do.

You’d love to be here with me in the tent I am at present occupying. – A bloody bobby dazzler. Usually its function is to accommodate high officials & big wigs. Because the earth round about gets mighty soggy during the wet season the floor is built some 2 ft above the ground. To have a real wooden floor (even though made of packing cases) is dinkum Point Piper up here. Edging the floor & meeting the tent sides is a ducky wooden fence. Alongside the entrance steps one may tread lightly down to the sun deck furnished with deck chair. Tent flaps are open wide & sensuously warm breezes wiggle over the old bod. There’s room for twin beds how’s about? Just the cool summer night touch. All just too too.

I had my best sleep since being up here. The bed is good and I have been honoured with 2 SHEETS. Christ, this is a grim & arduous front line. Pay up for a couple of Hail Marys and pater nosters for me, my sweet. I’m battling through on fresh eggs, Gorgonzola, Scotch Whiskey and Van der Hum (imported). Keeping a stiff upper lip, that’s me. The only ointment on the fly is the dust, that’s lovely, just like wading through a foot of talcum powder.

Have walked about 6 miles today. In the morning down to a transit camp alongside a river⁴ in which one of the troops caught, while I was there, a swordfish of all things – about 2’6” long. Spent the afternoon at a field hospital⁵ – i.e. one in which the patients are under canvas.

All very picturesque, the large and calming masses of white & salmon tinted tents slashed and emphasised by the waving greens of paw paws & bananas. A good spot to paint – but time is too limited. From the newspaper point of view I should restrict myself more to close-ups of patients & to merely suggest the pleasantries of the scene. Will spend about two days over it.

Had to go down a slit trench tonight.⁶ I took it arse up – nose first. This is not the accepted technique, but I had no time for indulging the niceties of descent. I fell in. next time I walk around after dark the torch goes with me. Gave myself a fearful thump – winded me for a few minutes – However am all right except for some cutie saucer shaped bruises on the hip.

About time I got to bed – I’m losing my grip – mosquito dive bombing is most demoralising.

Lots of love to you my darling.

Willie

Hope mum got my telegram on the right day.⁷ You have to send them early here – they say it takes about 2 days. Glad to hear dad is still up & doing.

More affection to you from me.

Nightie.

Notes:

1
Adelaide River Camp
2
Mrs Minniver (1942) starring Greer Garson and Walter Pidgeon- see also Wikipedia
3
In Which We Serve (1942) starring Noel Coward. See also Wikipedia
4
Adelaide River
5
119th Australian General Hospital
6
There is no official record of any Japanese air raids that night. Was probably a practice drill or Wep simply fell into the trench by accident.
7
Wep sent a Telegram to Jess’s mother, Mary Jane Graham (nee Wray 1868-1953) for her birthday the previous day, July 26.

July 24, 2023August 16, 2023

War Letters – NW Australia: 24 Jul 1943, Darwin; Material for Women’s Weekly, daily diet & journo’s gossip

C/O DPR Unit,
Army Post Office,
Darwin,

Saturday night
[24 Jul 1943]

Darling,

I was enormously pleased to get your letter, sweetheart – it did me a lot of good – picked the old soul up no end. Forgive me if my last letter sounded somewhat morbid. “Troppo” madness sets in early and I was too tired & weak to attempt good cheer. However you will overlook it – yes?

Letters do help – one has to be away to realize that. Poor Ivan – he must eat his heart out waiting for them.

I’m sitting down to work – have been fairly busy although my painting is not of any class as yet, it being overwhelmingly amateurish. Obviously I need much more practice. It’s mostly rough notes that I am compiling for a more or less free use when I come home to my cuddly snugglepot. Judging from the material I have gathered in less than two weeks it will take me at least 2 months back in Sydney working flat out to cover the space necessary for any sort of decent display. That’s good news, heh?

They’re still discussing this & that. It’s U.S. and Jap strategy now & I cannot help but listen. Destroys my thoughts.

A great call comes through for us to eat supper sandwiches. And at present that’s nothing to look forward to. We are on “tropical spread” a bloody margarine substitute – tastes like blasted coconut oil. Should be butter any time now. We have only had to bear the burden for a couple of days.

The poor old pate is sight to behold, huge shivers of burnt up skin float slowly off its tarnished dome. My face is a dried apricot with pimples on it. The bank roll is still well – I’ve only spent a tenner so far. You must apologise to the boys for me and explain that to date it is next door to impossible to buy anything up here. My only expenses are household – you can’t spend any on grog at other camps as each officer only gets so much ration & none is really left over for visitors to buy for them. I’ve just bought 18 large packets of Capstans. They seem to be all you can get. Also I let the office buy me a real kangaroo skin tobacco pouch for 10/-. Incidently (sic) I haven’t heard from them yet – touch wood.

You’d better go in and price that casserole doings as it’s a moral I won’t be home to consummate our tenth anniversary. Get it if you like & give a dinner to the Watso’s¹ & O’Deas² out of it. Do me in style and don’t forget to leave an empty setting at table for me – don’t neglect my drinks either. Telepath me lots of lurv.

It’s no secret about McNulty³. I knew in Brisbane. No doubt King⁴ & Cyril⁵ resented his queer behaviour. Perhaps he didn’t like to let Cyril know that the estimable Brian⁶ was to be his superior. The set-up has violent possibilities. Cyril will object to Penton’s policies & the daily night work. Pretty ‘orrid what!

We don’t do our own washing. Every day we change and one of the poor unfortunates chores for us all. Ironing is done as well. We do nothing but eat. None of these blokes are what you could call drinking men. Although there is at least 5 bottles Corio – 3 gin & 5 port, 1 hock, 1 advocat & 2 beer no one wants a drink. I’ll be glad to get out again. Am going down the road tomorrow – shall be away about 4 days finishing up at the last camp I stayed at. They’re having a do on Thursday 29^th. Ray Stehr & Tom Izzard, prominent Sydney footballers, also 4 other leading Sydney Rugby players are in the unit. To my great despair I won’t see any of your letters until I come back, my pet. I’ll forward you letters from where ever I am.

All the gang have been on the beach this afternoon. It seems incredible that the water should be so warm and the weather so glorious. Dozens of soldiers turn out for a dip it’s all very gay and nude – the probeing & squealing is reminiscent of a schoolboys water carnival. An amazing assortment of Freds strike the eye. I retire with modesty – grander and stouter are encountered with every flick of the eye.⁷

Cards on a northern beach – The Australian Women’s Weekly, 26 February 1944, p1 The scene is Mindil Beach, Darwin

Playing cards, Mindil Beach, Darwin, July 1943

Sunset, Darwin area most likely near Mindil Beach, July 1943

W.E. Pidgeon (WEP) at work

Yesterday I spent some time painting the delightful freshwater pool I wrote you of some time back. To my great satisfaction I had the spot alone for close on 1½ hours when 20 or there about soldiers came roaring down like wolves on the fold. I fled soon after. On the way back saw dozens of wallabies. The poor creatures suffer the fate of rabbits down south – dazzled by car lights they are struck & killed.

The blarsted typing has started again. So farewell for the nonce my love. It’s going to be a great thrill when we meet.

Lot & lots

Bill

Notes:

1
King and Eleanor Watson
2
Tommy O’Dea
3
Clarence Sydney McNulty was Editor in Chief at the Telegraph. He was arrested in early 1943 in an embarrassing situation and gave Police a false name
4
King Watson
5
Cyril Pearl
6
Brian Penton
7
The scene at Mindil Beach provided an influence for several paintings by Pidgeon throughout the 1950s including The Sun Bathers, which was a finalist in the Sir John Sulman Prize in 1956 and again with The Bathers in 1957. Other versions in the later 1950s introducing the female form based on new wife, Dorothy following Jess’s death in 1953 of a brain tumour), adorned the walls of Wep’s home

July 23, 2023August 15, 2023

War Letters – NW Australia: 23 July 1943, Darwin; Back to base and noisy correspondents

W.E.Pidgeon
C/O DPR Unit
Army Post Office
Darwin

Friday
[23 Jul 1943]

Darling,

Am back again to the old home comforts. There are only 4 correspondents here at the moment, thank heavens. But those at present here are damned voluble – voceriferously arguing the toss on world social system. I’m too weak to join in. The mob down the road had a formal mess last night (as they go once a week) this seemed – or rather did – get away on us all. After beer and sherry – we settled down to some steady gin drinking. Unfortunately liquor has immediate and body shattering effect. Hangovers are pretty shaking in this here territory.

Last two nights have been plenty cold. To my sorry I had taken only 2 blankets with me. One to sleep on & the other to cover me. Not enough – your sweet hubby was always glad to see the dawn as most of the night I just lay and shivered.

This is a bugger of a place to write letters. One cannot continue a line of thought. Willy nilly the conversation about obtrudes.

Haven’t had any letters from you yet. What gibes? Too much social life? Am anticipating one tomorrow. I’ll break down & cry or go plumb “Troppo”.

Sorry to say that I’m too tired to write much tonight. I’d like to be home at the moment lying in my beauto bed reading a thriller-diller. Or just lying, yes? Are you being my good little sweet model wifie? Has Tommy gone north yet?

Lots of love and special juicy kisses. Save ‘em all up for me. No giving any away –

Goodnight sweet heart –

Bill

5 minutes later

I cannot leave you so. How’s Ellie? Hours? My new nephew? Has Sally conceived? Noticed in our local daily paper (printed by the army) that another Telegraph correspondent Osmar White has stopped it¹.

Farewell again. Relapse has hold of me – Pray for my liver my sweet. Tell King² I got his little note. Is Cyril³ happy? Are you minding Tony⁴ & Pussy yet?

Spose I’d better write to the boys.

Am back in D.

no letters!!!!!
in a week!!!!

naughty Jessie

Later edition.

Things have quietened down. One still smashes the noise box, another silently struggles with a game of patience.

James (Jimmy) Frederick Smyth represented Sydney’s Daily Mirror and Truth; William (Bill) Caldbeck-Moore was feature writer for Sydney’s Daily Telegraph; Frank Tierney was correspondent for the Sydney Morning Herald; Noel Adams for the Advertiser (Adelaide) see also; Noel Ottaway for Sydney’s Sun newspaper

(This is all very rough I’m saving myself up for the grand effort I on at present here.)

After next week I start on the air force – then may be something on the navy.

Blarsted sandflies are like pneumatic suckers & the mosquitos like blarsted bombers.

More love

Bill

(am feeling plenty sunburnt right now!)

Bill.

Have lost cig. lighter twice.
Have found cig. lighter twice after lapse of two days.

No grilled steak here.

Tea like stewed treacle.

Out of the mouths of babes & sucklings we had large helpings of prunes today.

Love again

Bill.

Notes:

1
JAP BOMB WOUNDS WAR REPORTER (1943, July 27). The Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW : 1931 – 1954), p. 4.
2
King Watson
3
Cyril Pearl
4
Tony Pearl