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Chapter 2

Australia (1939-1947)

My family boarded one of the ships of the Union Castle Line in Southampton during July, 1939 and steamed into the Atlantic. My parents decided we should take a short vacation in Madeira, and disembarked for ten days. I recall the high relief of this volcanic island with lush tropical vegetation. I also pushed open a glass door at the hotel with my hand, shattering the glass, cutting one of my arteries, and ending up in a hospital emergency room. Once treated, we stayed a few more days and then boarded the S.S. Arundel Castle bound for Australia.

En route, we stopped in Cape Town, South Africa. I still remember steaming into the harbor and seeing Table Mountain. We visited onshore, and then proceeded to Durban, South Africa. It was my first introduction to human diversity as I saw my first black people, or Afro-Africans (Native Africans?) to use a politically correct modern term.

We then sailed into the Indian Ocean, stopped at Perth for a shore visit, and continued onto Melbourne. While in the Great Australian Bight on September 1, 1939, we received news that Germany invaded Poland and World War II began. We arrived and disembarked in Sydney a week later.

The city of Sydney was founded by the British colonial government in 1788 to house a penal colony for those committing minor offenses. British losses during the American Revolution required a new location and Sydney was as far away as they could send them. Long after I left Australia, the original settlement was restored as a tourist attraction. During my life in Australia, this historical origin was only mentioned rarely in hushed tones.

My parents found an apartment in Neutral Bay with an outstanding view of Sydney Harbor. During my spare time, I watched all the ships, ferry boats, and tug boats sailing back and forth. As World War II intensified, the Queen Mary, the Queen Elizabeth and other flagships of allied steam ship companies came to Sydney to pick up Australian troops to fight all over the globe.

Shortly after moving into the apartment, my parents enrolled my sister at the Redlands Ladies College. It also had a co-ed kindergarten. I was enrolled there, but because I was considered a ‘big kid’ for my age, my parents were told to enroll me in first grade in a state–supported school at the end of the term. Next term, I enrolled in Neutral Bay Elementary School.

Both Sydney and Australia were unquestionably provincial in 1939. Sydney only had one decent restaurant, ‘Princes’. Because the war had started, xenophobia was evident. During the seven years I lived there, the most popular song was “Buy British Buy”. When people talked about “Going Home”, they meant returning to the UK, even though they were third or fourth generation Australians who had never gone back. Being a ‘foreigner’ meant high visibility and I suffered my share of slurs, epithets, and bullying by older boys in school.

Some of it I brought on myself. My first year at Neutral Bay Elementary School, my class decided to play cricket, and not knowing a thing about the game, I ended up captain of one of the teams. They picked me because I was a ‘big kid.’ That was a major error. It became obvious when I delivered the first pitch not from the wicket at one end, but from the middle of the pitch. I never played the game again. Cricket was a very boring game and I never understood it.

My father established an import-export business and did moderately well. We bought a car, and drove all over the Sydney area and into the Blue Mountains to the west.

The Dutch ex-pat community in Sydney was very small. My parents became very good friends with the Dutch Consul, Kai Van Der Mandele and his wife, Dora. Kai later became the first Netherlands ambassador to the UN, and in 1960, ambassador to Denmark, where he hosted me in 1963 at their chancery. Their second good friend was a business man named “Appy” Van Roijen who had contacts with every key player in Sydney. He proved to be a valuable resource person for our family.

During the 1940-41 Australian summer, my parents decided it might be a good experience if my mother, sister, and I took a vacation on an Australian version of a “Dude Ranch” located in Porepunka, NSW. We travelled there first on an express train to a certain city (can’t remember it) and transferred to the ‘Porepunka local’ for a 25 mile trip. It consisted of several freight cars with a passenger car at the end. It was hot and there was no air-conditioning. Every time we came to a village, the train stopped, a rail car or two was offloaded or added or both. The train then proceeded to the next town to repeat the process. It involved a lot of shunting back and forth. As I recall, it took almost a half-day to travel the 25 miles to Porepunka, and the same was true on the way back.

At the ranch, I learned horse-back riding, played tennis and quoits, and experienced Australian rural culture. I also witnessed sheep shearing, and one day, they demonstrated how they slaughtered a sheep with a machete. I enjoyed horse-back riding the most.

We received word from the US consulate in Sydney that we were approved to immigrate to America in January, 1942. The Pearl Harbor attack delayed us. Soon after Pearl Harbor, the Netherlands East Indies (now Indonesia) was occupied by the Japanese and the remnants of the Netherlands East Indies Army retreated to Australia. My father sold his business and volunteered to serve with them. He reported for basic training at their Air Force base in Canberra, ACT. Meanwhile, my sister and I were sent to boarding schools in Orange, NSW. I attended Wolaroi College in Orange (now the Kinross-Wolaroi College) for seven months and it was a most unhappy experience. It was run by the Methodist Church and was far too strict for my taste.

During a vacation visiting with my mother in Sydney, we were woken one night by a loud explosion. The entrance to Sydney Harbor was protected by a series of nets which were opened to let shipping in and out. Apparently that night while a ship left, three Japanese kamikaze subs entered the harbor and one torpedoed a ferry boat, waking up the city. The subs were captured and put on display in a local park. We discovered that the submarines couldn’t have been more than 12 feet long, and were operated by one person.

After my dad completed basic training, he was given a special assignment in the Dutch East Indies Army headquartered in Melbourne. Although an enlisted man, he was put in charge of their entire financial and business operations, literally telling generals how to spend money. The Netherlands armed forces in Australia completed an analysis of all personnel and because my father was the only person who ran a business, he got picked for this plum assignment.

However, it became obvious to the Dutch East Indies Army officer corps this arrangement had its drawbacks. Whenever meeting with their counterparts from other allied armed forces, it was awkward for a buck private to discuss finances on behalf of officers. Consequently, within a year, he got promoted fast to corporal, a week later to Sergeant and then to Lieutenant. It improved the business negotiating position of the Netherlands East Indies Army in exile.

Knowing we would be in Melbourne for several years, my parents bought a newly-constructed ranch house on the city’s edge. It was a unique experience because during the summer, the paddock across the street was occupied by sheep herds. Some strayed into our front yard and left their ‘calling card’. When the sheep left in the fall, the paddock sprouted a large number of mushrooms, fertilized of course by sheep droppings. We harvested a lot of mushroom during those years.

My sister enrolled at the Geelong Grammar Ladies College in Geelong, Victoria, an Anglican (Episcopal) girl’s school. She was quite happy to be sent to boarding school and did well. During her final year (equivalent to the US Senior year in High School), she was elected a prefect, a student leader. That made her more stuck up and it stayed with her for her whole life.

My mother took me to visit three ‘public’ (private) schools, Melbourne Grammar (Anglican), Wesley College (Methodist) and Scotch College (Presbyterian). I did not like Melbourne Grammar and they did not like me. I liked Wesley College the best but they were over-enrolled and turned me down. Scotch College, the largest private prep school in the Southern Hemisphere, accepted me. The School was founded by the Presbyterian Church in 1851 and moved to a new campus during the 1920’s. I enrolled in their junior (elementary) School in 1943.

I did above average, learned Australian Rules Football and boxing, excelled in geography and history, did very poorly in penmanship, and made it through English, science, and math. Discipline was strict, reinforced by ‘six of the best’, namely caning one’s rump.

I was promoted to the Senior School in 1946 and completed the standard college prep first-year courses, but not at a distinguished level. The school was sports crazy. In 1946, Scotch College won the “head of the river” a rowing race with five other private schools of comparable size and when the opportunity came to try out for the “crew” I did. I was rejected during my physical because of an undisclosed heart condition.

I watched cricket (boring), Australian Rules football (really interesting), enjoyed the annual rival football game with Melbourne Grammar, and the annual public schools track meet. They also taught students boxing during gym classes. This skill helped me later.

Perhaps the most unusual event I recall occurred when Scotch College played Xavier College (Catholic) on their home turf. In 1946, Xavier fielded a team that literally wiped all the other schools off the floor. During previous years, they usually ended up last place. What changed?

Before the game started, we sat in the visitor’s stands while the Scotch College team warmed up. Suddenly church bells pealed from the Xavier Chapel on a hill behind the stadium. The Xavier football team in uniform charged out of the chapel running down the hill and onto what is now known as Chapel Field. They outweighed the Scotch College players by at least 20 lbs, and were clearly about 3 inches taller. The Xavier players were mostly Eastern European and Italian immigrants who survived Nazi concentration camps or in other ways during World War II. They clearly were older. To say they kicked the stuffing out of Scotch College that day is an understatement. They won the Public School Championship that year to no one’s surprise.

Their team achievement was just as much a credit to the Xavier coaches. They organized a team of people who were still learning English, came from several cultures, learning the rules of a new game, and develop the necessary skills to communicate and achieve their success.

While at Scotch, I was involved with scouting and participated in scout camp outs, learning some survival skills that came in handy later in life as a geologist. I remember one winter weekend going on a family trip to the Dandinong Ranges where it snowed. I used those skills to start a fire and a few other details.

On weekends, I enjoyed horseback riding. A nearby stable rented a horse for 5 shillings (about $1.00 equivalent) for an afternoon and I rode with a group of riders. The group stopped after about one-and-a-half hours, watered the horses at a creek, let the horses graze, and enjoyed billy tea made by one of the stable’s staff. We then rode back. It was a great way to spend an afternoon in the out-of-doors.

While at Scotch College, I enjoyed singing in the school choir. That interest and enjoyment stayed with me throughout my life. I sang in choirs in the USA until 1960. I still enjoy choral music today.

My parents socialized with the officers of the Dutch East Indies Army in exile while living in Melbourne. Some made it out but left their families behind. Their separation placed a heavy burden on these officers. One, Colonel Wim Kniestedt, was a family favorite. He introduced us to the Dutch art of making a fruit preserve soaked in gin. He also told us numerous stories of his experiences growing up in The Netherlands and being posted to the East Indies (now Indonesia). When the war ended, he reunited with his family who joined him in Melbourne.

The Netherlands East Army contingent in Melbourne formed a “Dutch Club”. They rented a social club on Saturdays and served “Rijstafel”, the national dish of the East Indies. We went every Saturday, met the other officers and their families (who had managed to escape) and generally had a good time. The food was clearly the best in Melbourne and made up for the dreary fare at the Scotch College ‘tuck shop.’ They also ran a Dutch language school for the children of Dutch service men. I attended, but it did not stay with me.

I made my share of friends, but after leaving Australia, I lost contact. My good friend Gerry Kuecher put it well about growing up in a house of 13 brothers and sisters who moved on into the world: “Time has a way of estranging us from our loves” ¹. The same applies to people we walk with through life at some time, but as we move away and move on, we become estranged from them too.

World War II ended in Europe in May, 1945 and in the Pacific in September, 1945. My father was promoted now to the rank of Captain, and in March, 1946, he was promoted to the rank of Major. He mustered out in July, 1946 and prepared to go to the USA.

My father planned ahead to renew his business activities and printed special announcement cards. He mailed them to all his business contacts in Europe stating that he was moving to the USA to reestablish his business, and wanted to renew his relationship with them. He also asked if there was anything in the way of food and clothing or other items that they needed so we could ship it to them. I helped him by stuffing addressed envelopes with these cards and putting stamps and airmail stickers on them. Together, we mailed them at the post office.

He started receiving replies after five weeks. Half of the envelopes were returned because people moved or died during the war. It was a sober reminder of how transitory life can be. The remaining responses expressed interest in hearing from my dad, doing business with him again, and provided lists of things they needed for their families.

My mother then went to work. She always kept both my sister’s and my outgrown clothes including school uniforms. Suddenly, these clothes started disappearing to Europe. She either added some of her and my dad’s clothing or bought some. Then she bought canned coffee, canned milk, canned meat, canned vegetables and first aid items. These were packed into boxes, labeled and sent.

When my father started his business in New York, it was very clear these people were only too happy to do business with him again and their gratitude stayed until he passed away.

It was a valuable and unforgettable lesson. It taught me the importance of networking, maintaining a network, and being willing to do kind things for other people. It always pays. In my case, I mentored geologists laid off by large oil companies and completed my share of volunteer professional society committee work. It all started with helping my Dad stuff those envelopes immediately after World War II.

My father left for the USA in August, 1946. He obtained a berth on a former unconverted troop ship, but it was the quickest way to get there. He went to San Francisco and boarded a train to New York. He established a new import/export business, starting over for the third time in his life.

That too was a valuable lesson for me: never be afraid to start over, regardless of one’s age. I implemented this lesson several times during my life including opening up my present geological consulting business at age 63.

My mother stayed behind, sold our home, and packed and shipped our belongings to New York. She booked passage for the three of us to travel to the USA in late January, 1947. That departure ended another phase of my life, this time in Australia.

LESSONS LEARNED:

1. When undertaking business networking, remember the business associates one meets are human and under certain circumstances may have critical needs. Be prepared to reach out and help them.

The incident involving my father’s announcement cards to former business associates illustrates this well. Once he was open for business in New York, who do you suppose the people in Europe who received food and clothing from our family wanted to do business with?

2. Never be afraid to start over, whether after a setback, a change in career, or a change in circumstances. But when doing so, stay with what you know.