August 15, 1945. The day Peace broke out.

The 75^th anniversary of VJ Day, Victory in the Pacific, brought forth a lot of reminiscing on TV, radio and in the newspapers. Here are some of my memories of that wonderful day, as recounted in an excerpt from my book about my early years titled, “LEON, A backward glance at boyhood”.                                                                                                                                                                           LEON was published in August, 2005. I referred to myself as LEON as I wrote in the Third Person and I was not happy constantly writing “Noel did this…” and “Noel did that…” so I set myself free by calling myself  Leon which seems a suitable name for a boy named Noel taking a backward glance at his boyhood.

Yes, a lot of Australian history was being made when Leon and his mates in Seventh Avenue were going to the pictures or playing their make-believe games in the bush. It was a good time to be alive. The war was over and we had won it. It was 15 August, 1945 – what a day that was for Leon. He was seven years old and in Grade Two at school at Sacred Heart, Highgate. There was no school that day because it was a religious holiday – The Feast of the Assumption of Our Lady – and Leon and his family had gone to 7.30 am mass at All Hallows Church in Central Avenue. When the family came out of the church, all of the state school mates were riding their bikes up and down the streets and yelling and screaming that the war was over.

“Why aren’t you at school?” Leon called out.

“There’s no school today. The war is over! The war is over! It’s peacetime!”

Yes, peace had broken out. A time of delicious happiness. A time of great celebrations. Later on Leon joined the state school kids. They had ribbons and streamers in their bike wheels and had tied on empty kerosene tins that made a tremendous din as they dragged them along the bitumen road. It was a day to remember!

A few days later there was the big Peace Parade in Perth and all the trams were packed with happy, laughing joyful people. Everyone was kissing each other and there were coloured streamers everywhere. Leon waited near the Eighth Avenue tram stop in Beaufort Street. When the crowded trams returned from the big Peace Parade he would rush up to anyone wearing a military uniform and say, “Thanks for winning the war!”

“That’s OK, sonny,” they would smile. Sometimes they called him Tiger or Snowy or Sunny Jim. Leon felt really proud if they called him mate. Somehow, “mate” made him more a part of the war effort.

In his small way Leon had been part of the war effort. With the other boys in the street, he had collected bottle tops, old cutlery, old car tyres and old clothes which he had been told would be turned into bullets, uniforms and bandages for the soldiers. Leon attended Sacred Heart Junior School in Harold Street, Highgate. He was an Air Raid Warden for his junior primary class. In the playground a large slit trench had been made with timber planks to hold the earth firm. The trench was about six feet deep (182 centimetres). This was too deep for the children to jump straight into, so at one end of the trench someone had placed a small table. Leon’s job was to jump on to the table and then help the rest of the class as they clambered first on to the table and then stepped down to the bottom of the trench. His teacher, the smiling faced nun, Sister Francis, showed Leon how to do his job and she made sure the children stood in straight and orderly lines before their turn came to jump in.

They used to have practise drills each week. Sometimes the local air raid siren would start up its fearful wail and the children would move outside in their orderly way, but each little heart would be beating fast. Was it a drill or were the Japanese about to attack? In the shelter everyone would crouch down, huddled together. The sirens would stop wailing and there would be a terrible silence as everyone waited for the bombs to come raining down. Sister Francis would tell the children to say Hail Marys while they were waiting so that the Mother of God would save them from peril.

At last the silence would be shattered by the air raid siren, sounding a long blast to signal the “All Clear”. Leon once more leapt to the table and assisted his classmates back inside where Sister Francis would ask everyone to say one Our Father, one Hail Mary and one Glory Be to thank God and his mother, Mary, for saving them from harm. Leon always knew we would win the war. God was on our side. Not only that, the beautiful Sister Francis was on our side too! And she was praying hard.

Leon could also remember air raids sounding when he was asleep at night. Everyone would get up and huddle under the big table in the lounge room. All the windows were blacked out with black paper and Jack would use a small torch to help everyone get settled. In the darkness they would talk in whispers and listen every now and then for the engines of the enemy’s bombers. Later on would come the “All Clear” siren.

One day, Leon walked into his backyard and was surprised to see that Jack was digging a huge hole in the lawn between the house and the fenced off yard where he kept his chooks and ducks. One of the neighbours was leaning over the side fence and Jack was explaining that he was building an air raid shelter. Jack enlisted in the army when war broke out. He was 35 years old and the Foreman at the Perth  Modelling Works in East Perth, which produced fibrous plaster goods to the building industry. He passed his physical test for the army but was Manpowered by the government who said he was required to stay working in the vital building trade.

“I always said if Singapore falls I’ll build a shelter,” grunted Jack as he heaved another shovelful of sand out of the hole. Over a couple of weekends Jack put some cement slabs on the bottom of the hole and placed some old carpet over them. Then he sank some wooden posts around the shelter and nailed corrugated iron sheets to them to make the walls. After that he nailed some planks across the top, put some more sheeting over that and then put some sand over the tin and down the sides. On top of all this he replaced the blocks of lawn that he had removed to dig the hole. He put a couple of wire beds and some old mattresses up one end of the shelter and a small card table and two wooden stools at the other. Near the table was a large metal traveller’s trunk.

Of great interest to Leon were the packages of dried food and tinned goods that Jack placed in this trunk. He noted especially, the packets of Minties, New World Chocolates and Hoadley’s Violet Crumble Bars that went in. Also in the trunk were a couple of dozen eggs that Jack had collected from his chook yard. He had covered these with a greasy cream called Ke-Peg and then individually wrapped them in newspaper. Jack said this would keep the eggs fresh for at least six months. Leon certainly hoped so because he had once broken a rotten egg and the stench was unbearable. He imagined the stench from two dozen rotten eggs would take everyone’s mind off the war and keep the Japanese invaders a long way upwind, somewhere north of Broome. 

Every few months Jack would replace the eggs with freshly Ke-Peged ones. The eggs taken from the air raid shelter would be placed in a bucket of water. Jack said that any eggs that rose to the top were no good and full of rotten egg gas. These were carefully buried in a deep hole right down the backyard. Another interesting item in the trunk was a packet of blue tipped wax matches that would light up even if wet. There were also some candles and a white First Aid case with a red cross on it.

Next to the trunk were two large metal containers filled with water and some bottles of kerosene and methylated spirits.  On one of the wooden beams Jack put a hook from which he dangled an old hurricane lamp. He sawed some wooden planks to make three steps leading into the shelter and a door was attached to the two thick wooden uprights. When he had finished, the air raid shelter was completely covered with lawn except for the slope that led down to the doorway. Finally, he put a big padlock on the door and showed everybody where he had hung the key on a small hook on the back verandah.

During the war, confectionery was almost non-existent. So, on the day when everyone was celebrating the end of the war, Leon was quick to ask Jack to open up the metal trunk and give him a Hoadley’s Violet Crumble Bar. With great pleasure Leon rode his Swansea bike up and down the street, beribboned wheels whirling, an empty kerosene tin trailing noisily behind him as he triumphantly waved a Hoadley’s Violet Crumble Bar for his envious mates to see. Ah, yes, peace had broken out and lollies would soon be back in the shops. Let the good times roll!

After the excitement of the end of the war and the victory parades, there was still more joy to come as some of the Seventh Avenue fathers returned from the war. Len Wiltshire, Ray Burnett, Bertie Muir, Keith and Jim Stockford all welcomed their fathers home. But not Mrs Garrett who lived at the end of Seventh Avenue.  Leon had often seen her walk past the house with her young son. She was a very pretty blonde-haired lady but she was always dressed in black and seemed to walk very fast as if she was desperate to be somewhere else.                                                                                                             Leon’s mother told him that Mrs Garrett’s  husband had been killed “in the islands”. Leon had no idea where those islands were.

Lest we forget!