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.
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 yesterday1Most likely Mindil Beach. 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.
Barber’s Shop In A Forward Area
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 6d & his unit comforts fund 6d. 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 1944Barber ShopBarber ShopReading and writing letters whilst waiting for a haircutReading and writing letters whilst waiting for a haircutReading and writing letters whilst waiting for a haircutReading and writing letters whilst waiting for a haircut
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 –
Farewell again. Relapse has hold of me – Pray for my liver my sweet. Tell King2King Watson I got his little note. Is Cyril3Cyril Pearl happy? Are you minding Tony4Tony Pearl & 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.
Arrived here after a very long & rather exhausting trip which seemed to last for days. Most of it was spent sprawled precariously over piles of sharp edged boxes and bloody hard crates of gear for some of the posts. We left early Monday morning long before the roosters started their daily work. I am somewhat vague as to the cans and cannots of communications. All mail is censored.
Although I had no idea of what to expect in the way of habitation and country around here – none of it is even remotely like my nebulous preconceived notions. Trees are laid on with lavish profusion & colour. The climate is really balmy. Typical summer days with mild & temperate nights which are really perfection at the moment. Booful big moon plenty of stars & gentle Dotty Lamour breezes. Everybody says it’s just perfect weather for the little yellow men to make a raid. I’ve got my tin hat ready & the receptive trench eyed off. Surprisingly enough there does not seem to have been much damage done – that is from what is visible now. They do say as ‘ow they ‘ave cleaned it all up like. Noticed a few big holes you could put half a house in but no one seems to have bothered to do so. All so much useless spade work on the part of the nips. Ninety-nine & then some percent of the houses (of which there are quite a lot) are made of fibro. These are now nicely aired – cellstexed with irregular holes of varying shapes and sizes.
War Correspondents’ Mess, Darwin; July 1943. View looking east from the main street.War Correspondents’ Mess, Darwin; July 1943. View looking northeast from the main street.
I was sure staggered to see my present living quarters. A tin hut or hessian hut with rude bush carpentered beds and furniture was my dream. Imagine my dismay in having to pig it in a two storied airy fibro cottage of very recent vintage and extremely pleasant design. A large right angled room twice as big as our lounge occupies the centre of the building & from off lead a kitchenette, a tiled bathroom with shower recess & W.C. & 5 bedrooms. It is all extremely airy – half of the walls are built on a pattern of venetian blinds – you may open or close them as is necessary. About 11 of us sit down to meals – or to mess as is said. The major of public relations sits at the head. The good little boys are ranged down either side. Food is pretty good – a new whole ham provided last night with tomatoes, lettuce and cucumber. Sherry before dinner. Australian whiskey on arrival & beer late last night. It is hardly necessary to add that this grog was in moderate doses. The ration is one bottle of beer a week. I haven’t yet found out about the other alcohols.
Trotted off to an open air picture show last night – you take your own seat. This is no trouble as 2 cars & 1 truck are at the disposal of the poor correspondents.
Believed to be the mobile concert stage of the 3rd Australian Division Concert Party held July 13, 1943 at Noonamar, NT. for the troops of No. 14 Lines of Communication Sub Area and RAAF Squadron
A team of American entertainers provided the first half of the show – they were really excellent. Hard lines for the local lads that they were all men. It is reported that down south 8 glamour girls were on the show too but higher ups decided such a show of limbs & breast might set in a rot among the troops, most of whom haven’t seen a dame for at least 6 months. Comments when women appear on the screen are a trifle ribald. I suppose real tarts would render them speechless. It’s a rare sight to see the dags yelling out for Myrna Loy to hurry up & die (in the picture “The Rains Came”).
The distances between the various camps in this area are staggering. I’ve been all day in a blasted car & seen about a dozen. Christ only knows how I’m going to get around to the time needed to paint If I have to spend most of the day riding to & from the bloody joints. I haven’t started yet. It’ll take me a week to find the lay of the land. It’s plenty hot. Address your reply to W.E. Pidgeon – if you add a Mr. It will cost you 1 ½ d extra. Airmail comes to me otherwise for 4d. Let me hear from you soon – am beginning to miss you – There’s no privacy & I don’t care much for a couple of these blokes. Lots of love to you my sweetie-pie.
Heh-heh – love from
Bill.
[The actual location of the Correspondents Mess remains to be confirmed. However based on Wep’s sketches and other views as well as RAAF aerial photography of 19 May 1945,1Australian Institute of Cartographers Northern Territory Division & Alford, R. N. ([199-]). Darwin – WWII RAAF aerial photography Saturday 19th of May 1945 it is possible that the War Correspondent’s Mess was situated on the eastern side of the present-day Stuart Highway near the corner of Queen Street (No. 34 Stuart Highway, Stuart Park, NT)]
Mon 26-Nov-56: Got train to Harwich, boat to Holland
Tue 27-Nov-56: Down the Rhine by Lorelei Express, arrived Zurich about 9pm
Wed 28-Nov-56: Roamed around Zurich & caught plane at 7:30 back to Aust.
Thu 29-Nov-56: Landed Instanbul about 1am. Passed by the mountains near Mt Aararat. Landed Basra – Karachi.
Fri 30-Nov-56: Calcutta about 1am, Singapore 11am. Stayed Raffles – saw dress rehersal of show.
Sat 1-Dec-56: Left Singapore 10:15am direct to Darwin – arrived 8:45pm. Took off for Sydney about 11pm.
Sun 2-Dec-56: Arrived Mascot 7am. Met by Dorothy, Graham & Trellie – John Boyce in at dinner in evening.
Mon 3-Dec-56: Quiet day & loafed around – few drinks.
Northwood NSW 2066, Australia
Airport Dr, Sydney NSW 2020, Australia
Australia
Singapore
West Bengal, India
Pakistan
Iraq
Iğdır Province, Turkey
Turkey
Switzerland
Essex, UK
London EC2M, UK
Zurich, Switzerland; 28 November 1956Zurich, Switzerland; 28 November 1956Ganymed Statue, Bürkliplatz, Zürich, Switzerland; 28 November 1956Bürkliplatz, Zürich, Switzerland; 28 November 1956Uraniastrasse Bridge, Zurich, Switzerland; 28 November 195647.371648,8.542234Basrah Airport, Iraq; 29 November 1956Singapore; 30 November 1956Singapore; 30 November 1956Looking across towards the Fullerton Building, Singapore; 30 November 1956The Fullerton Building (now a hotel) with the Fullerton Road bridge in front, Singapore; 30 November 1956Singapore; 30 November 1956Cavenagh Bridge, Singapore; 30 November 1956Raffles Hotel, Singapore; 30 November 1956
Sat 22-Sep-56: Left Sydney 10:30pm – slept most of the way to Darwin. Plane very empty.
Sun 23-Sep-56: Took off 8:05am. Arrived at Singapore 3:55pm. Saw Ian Hamilton and had fun at ‘Happy World’. Slept at Raffles Hotel. Cashed £5
[Berrimah, Northern Territory]
7am Sunday
[23 September 1956]
Dear Mugs,
Had a magnificently smooth trip up and landed about 5:30am in the blinking dark. They seem to have the clocks too fast up here because it was about 6:30am local time before we had the dawn. It is very hot and the birds make different noises outside in the scrub. They caw and gurgle, and the ensemble has a liquid, gurgling note. Not sharp & gay, as in the antiquary No. 85.
I’m dying for a long cold beer but suppose I’ll have to wait till I get back on the plane. We are at a dump in the never-never called Berrimah. Qantas have a comfortable sort of motel looking establishment here. Bedrooms sprawled in lines round a swimming pool, dining room, etc. Unfortunately we don’t go anywhere near Darwin town. I’d like to have seen it – It was Sep 1945 when I last came through.
