WHEN John O’Reilly went farming with his father in 1937 times were tough.
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Things looked up by 1939 when they cut 100 tonnes of hay, but all that changed once the Second World War broke out.
After a girlfriend’s brother who was a Spitfire pilot was shot down, John asked to join the airforce and his parents reluctantly agreed as they thought it was better than the army.
He turned 19 while training at Richmond airbase, then studied fitting and turning before completing a course in aircraft instruments.
“I wanted to be a pilot, but was knocked back, but I was thankful for that after seeing their problems and often, their early deaths,” he said.
A stint working on planes at the No 2 Air Navigators School, Cootamundra, increased John’s practical experience, but he worried when he saw how old the equipment was.
“We were ‘sitting ducks’ for an enemy,” he said.
John had two weeks leave before the bombing of Pearl Harbour delayed his departure to the Middle East.
He married Grace Murray during this time.
When John boarded the troopship “Dilwarra” in Adelaide in April, 1942, the predominantly Indian crew was his first contact with Islam.
He remembers the stench of sea sickness and the constant threat of being torpedoed.
The first land they sighted was Colombo, still partially burning from Japanese air raids.
It was a shock to see girls locked in cages and being forced into prostitution and to see Arab women bringing the coal to power the ship in baskets on their heads.
“We threw bread down to them, they weren’t treated much better than cattle,” John said.
After landing, the journey across Egypt to the Western Desert by train and truck began.
“Most of us had ‘Gypo Guts’, severe diarrhoea caused by the bad water, but there were no toilets and we couldn’t get off the train in case of mines so we held each other out the windows to relieve ourselves.”
They arrived during a khamaseen (Egyptian for sandstorm) with only a few days to learn the ropes from the soldiers they were replacing and they slept in trenches just 30 kilometres from the frontline that night.
John maintained the instruments on the American Kittyhawk Fighter bombers, the oxygen supplies for the pilots and checked for sabotage and helped direct pilots for take off.
The cooks did the best they could, but the food was ordinary with some refusing it before hunger changed their minds.
Comfort parcels were well received and pooled for a “party” in the mess tent.
The Battle of El Alamein in late 1942 was a major turning point for the Allies.
John’s Squadron crossed the desert where it met the Americans coming from Algiers and spent its first Christmas away from home near Benghasi.
When they landed in Sicily in 1943, conditions improved with leave, plenty of water and regular mail.
The locals were friendly, hosting dances where the mothers kept a close eye on their daughters, but John alludes to still managing to steal a kiss or two!
In late 1944 Mustang fighter bombers replaced the Kittyhawks.
German Field Marshall Jold surrendered in April, 1945, bringing an end to the Italian campaign, yet despite the celebrations, it was a bit of an anti-climax and the men felt “let down”.
The new aircraft didn’t need much maintenance so the men spent half of their time on leave or went AWOL (Absent With Out Leave).
“The officers turned a ‘blind eye’ and we ‘covered’ for each other, our mateship was very strong.”
One of John’s fondest memories is seeing Madame Butterfly in Milan with his impression of the upperclass Italian audience surpassed by the 90 piece orchestra’s performance.
John still has the program in his diary today.
The men celebrated Japan’s surrender in August 1945 with one last dance.
Number 3 Squadron left for Verona where the men played cards and waited for trains to transport home.
Despite not knowing it at the time, it was an eerie feeling travelling on the trains like those which transported countless Jewish women and children to their deaths just months before.
While they waited for a ship at Taranto English RAAF police booked John for not wearing his tie and for having his sleeves rolled up, but his Commanding Officer tore the charge up.
“The English police did find us ‘Colonials’ (sic) rather frustrating, but they were never seen near the front line,” John jokes.
On September 7, they boarded a ship only to land in Egypt for
“a final taste of tent life in the sands, flies and filth of Ancient Egypt”.
John bought a few cartons of English cigarettes after hearing there was “a chronic shortage” in Australia.
The journey home aboard the overcrowded “Stratheden” was long but welcome.
“My first sight of Australia was Rotnest Island.
“The cheering brought a lump to my throat, remembering how in the worst days, I’d sometimes wondered if I’d ever see home again.”
Despite docking in Melbourne, John wasn’t allowed to disembark for a party being thrown for his 24th birthday.
When he finally reached Sydney, his wife was there and they travelled to Lake Cargelligo where John was taken aback by how much his father had aged.
He was discharged in March, 1946, but Grace was pregnant and unwilling to move to the farm so John did odd jobs and eventually spent 11 years with NSW Railways.
“It was difficult for people to understand how servicemen struggled to adapt to what they hoped would be a ‘normal’ life,” he said softly.
“There wasn’t any counselling , just a daily visit to the pub, which gave temporary relief, but eventually added to the problems.”
In 1960, John and Grace divorced and John returned to Lake Cargelligo and farming.
He met Sydney nurse, Louise Cantor, at the local show dance in 1961 and they married and have two children, Paul and Jackie.
They still live in Lake Cargelligo where John is involved with the RSL, goes to the gym and rides his bike.
He has few regrets and is grateful to his wife and four children.
“I’m an old bloke, I’m still too fond of women,” he said drawing a laugh from Louise who shakes her head at him.
“I made some great mates in the airforce.”
John has few photos of his early days which makes his war photos even more poignant.
“To have them to help remember those times is special; there’s not many of us now.”
John and Louise spent Anzac Day with their granddaughter, Brisbane journalist Jennifer O’Reilly, in Lake Cargelligo.
