Does anybody remember the Moyston rattle-trap? This wonderful contraption actually drove down Swanston Street during the Melbourne Moomba procession around 1961 or 62.
Moyston (population 600) is a speck on the map about 240 km north west of Melbourne. Its two claims to fame have been lending its name to a very acceptable red wine and, as the cognoscenti all know, Moyston was the home of the Annual National Rabbit Skinning Championships for many years.
This old bomb was an absolute crowd-winner as it clattered along in the Moomba parade with its propellors whirling, smoke billowing, silliness.
One for the contraptionistas!
PS: It’s fate?  It quietly rusted away in a Moyston paddock.

Reg and Eileen Clarke bought a Skoda Octavia in 1952. The purchase was something of a compromise because Reg had planned to buy an English car but the waiting list was three months long. That was the way it was in 1952, wartime production had wound down, new car production had just started.

The Czech-made Skoda was a strong little car, made we were told, from German Army scrap metal hauled in from the Pripyet Marshes battlefield in the Ukraine. The Skoda had independent suspension all round, a wind-out front windscreen that leaked and the rear seats folded down giving access to the boot. It had a revolutionary lubrication system. An additional pedal was pressed every 1000 miles to lubricate all ball joints.

Reg and Eileen, my parents, had four children and the Skoda seemed to carry all of us and tow a caravanette with little effort. As an eight year old I could find only two design faults in the car. It had a radiator blind designed for cold European winters that I wound up over the radiator one warm Melbourne day. The engine and my father came to the boil very quickly. The other shortcoming was the tail light switch. It was a toggle switch beside the rear tail light. I could jump out of the car at traffic lights, turn on the tail light and be back inside before the lights turned green.

I recall we picked up our new Royal Blue Skoda from the dealer in LaTrobe St, Melbourne one exciting Friday night. In those days cars were imported in large pine boxes. Dad asked the dealer if he could have the box. No problem. That box became the car’s garage at our home. Recycling? Not exactly. In those days you never threw anything away.

And now Skodas are back. I must check to see if they’ve ironed out those design faults.

A romance is developing between George Townsend and Una Jones. It began on the evening train from Flinders St Melbourne to the suburb of Hawthorn (see George’s earlier correspondence posted under “Letters”).  In this letter George almost dares to tell Una what he thinks of her. Such politeness, such shyness.

28th October 1914

P.S. On looking at your letter I am more & more ashamed of my scawl, but cannot help it. “The Reasonable Boy in Brown” (I like that).
P.S.S. I have fond memories of “a Pretty Little Girl in Blue” (That is also part of a colour scheme)
P.P.S.S. Do you know what you reminded me of on Saturday morning.  The picture on the front of a book by Myrtle Reed called “Lavender and Old Lace” of a sweetly pretty girl in a flounced light blue frock (Don’t be annoyed please).

This is the story of a navigator who flew with 30 Squadron RAAF as a Navigator Air Gunner.

Both Australian and British built aircraft served with 30 Squadron in the South West Pacific theatre of war.

This account covers part of the Battle of Bismark Sea where an invasion force some 6,800 Japanese was reduced to just 600 survivors in a battle known as a turning point in the Pacific War.

Battle of Bismark Sea

I suppose if you’re talking about my time in 30 squadron, probably the most significant thing we ever did, which we believe and so did McArthur. It was a turning point in the war was the battle of the Bismarck Sea, when 12 Beaufighters took the brunt of attacking those 18 altogether, there were 12 transports and 6 destroyers and only two destroyers came out of it, but of course we had Liberators and Fortresses upstairs dropping bombs while we’re strafing, it was a bit dicey I tell you, you’d be strafing a transport or even a destroyer and a big shoot would go beside you and a bomb would be dropped by a Liberator.  The B25’s had also learnt the art of skip bombing and they followed us behind us and dropped skip bombs and on one particular run we were making, I looked over the starboard side and believe it or not, at the same height as us and traveling at the same speed as us was a 500 pound bomb heading for the same target.  Things like that you never forget. 

Dicing with Zeros

We could get away from the Zeros providing we could get away towards the sea.  The top speed of a Beaufighter was about 330 miles an hour, which was about the top speed of a Zero down there, but once we got in the air we were very vulnerable. The higher we went the less manoeuvrable and less power we had.  Our maximum boost was at sea level and that’s the way we were rated, but when we did get jumped by Zeros they could normally only get one pass maybe two at the most because if they come from diving down and you’re going…they would only get one dive at you, up the other side and another dive, by that time we’ve gone further. I’ve seen Zeros formating on us about 50 yards on either side just looking at us, they can’t go any faster, we can’t go any faster and if they turn towards you they can’t get a shot in.

I can remember one time when we were coming back from Rabaul, which was probably one of the most heavily defended aerodromes in the Southwest Pacific, because it was the headquarters for the Japanese, it was of course the destination of those ships that we got rid of in the Bismarck Sea battle and that’s when we got jumped. 

In the Beaufighter you had a steel door between you and the pilot, some people used to close them, but we never did, because we liked to see each other and anyhow, there’s these two Zeros zooming up around  the back of us and I said: “For Pete’s sake get this bloody thing going!” and he said: “What do you think I’m trying to do?” And he had his foot up, the throttle’s on the left and he had his foot up like this and he said: “I’m bending the bloody throttle, I can’t go any faster” Of course there was no armour at the back, but I used to carry a bag full of coloured paper, lolly paper, magazines, I’d rip them up and I’d throw them down the chute for the flares, as it might take their attention away from us, or I used to put the red cover on the Aldis lamp and I’d flick it at them.  Whether it had any effect I don’t know, but it gave me something to do as a navigator sitting up there in the middle of the fuselage. You know you’re like a shooting gallery, you thought you were for show, and we did get shot at quite a lot and later on we carried two 500 pound bombs, one on each wing, we used to drop those, but mainly four canons and 6 machine guns which was a hell of a lot of bloody fire power and when you’d shot up a barge or lugger it would just disintegrate. 

You know there were some great times in Beaufighters and some tragic times.  The first bloke I ever flew with got killed on his first operation and took my course mate with him.  Life is luck, absolute luck.  As a navigator I was asked to fly with a fellah because his own navigator was ill, but we always carried a spare one or somebody… when this other bloke said he’d fly, they didn’t come back, so its just luck.