OXLADE FAMILY HISTORY

"Dwellers in the Valley of the Oaks"

MILITARY SERVICE – AUSTRALIA

Noel Munro Oxlade QX 5487

1916 – 1957

Leaving Australia

7 Division Cavalry Regiment – 1940

Extracts from And All That NX20964 Fred Oughton

Preparing to Embark

While Cowra slept, with the station lights piercing the chilly country starry night, we boarded our troop train and departed for Sydney. We arrived at Darling Harbour before first light next morning and to our surprise the train took us right onto the wharf. Doors flew open, we spilled out, a great unwieldy mob of us, kit bags over shoulders, and congealed into ranks.

I stared in awe at what was going on around me, the magnitude of the situation, the drama and finality of it. Suddenly it was real! The early morning chill after the warmth of our journey was biting at our noses and cheeks. Every nerve ending in my body was tingling and I tasted mouthfuls of sharp salt sea air as I took in great gulps of it in my excitement.

The ranks were quiet and still, as fascinated as I by the efficiency of the NCOs and Officers, so practised in their task as they were at moving such a mob. The tip of the sun was moving above the horizon now, as a golden dusk-like glow was dispersing the chill of the night and bringing colour and life to the Harbour and the long rows of men waiting on the wharf.

We were loaded onto barges to be ferried out to the transports and as we cleared Darling Harbour and passed under the Bridge, I saw her!

As the light firmed for the day her bulk, her beauty, her majesty got every head turned towards her! The sun hit her portholes, and as she caught it the Harbour seemed to shrink around her! She was enormous!

"It’s the Mary!" Swept along the lines. "We’re leaving on the Mary!"

She was at that time the biggest, fastest, most luxurious liner in the world! From where we stood she blocked out North Head as she sat mid-stream waiting for us . . . .

Leaving Australia

Later, at sea, from the stern of the Mary we watched our convoy plowing the ocean behind us. What a stirring, spectacular sight! The HMAS SYDNEY, HMAS CANBERRA and HMNZ LEANDER, were part of it and how beautiful and regal they looked, their bow waves and stern wash cutting through the dark blue water of our Great Australian Bight.

We also had with us the AQUITANIA, the MAURITANIA, the DOMINION MONARCH, and the AWATEA. The AQUITANIA was the ‘Grannie’ of the fleet so the convoy had to come down to her speed of 17 knots . . .

Fremantle was a sad disappointment to the troops on the Mary because we couldn’t go ashore. We missed out leave but the local people were very kind to us. They came out to us in all sorts of craft, circling around us and offering to post letters for us . . . We scribbled hurried notes and threw them overboard in tins, jars, anything . . .

And that’s how we left Aussie., with all those little boats bobbing around us, shouting their goodbyes and goodwill messages . . .

At Sea on the Mary

So this was the Indian Ocean! A deeper blue it seemed than the Pacific with giant manta rays sunning themselves on top of the water, flying fishes making dashes over the waves. It was almost impossible to believe that the world was a war except for our convoy of ships surrounding us in perfect formation.

One ship ahead of us, one each side of us, one well astern. We were following a zig-zag course, 25 degrees to Starboard then back 15-30 degrees to Port, a practice designed to confuse submarine packs lurking in the vicinity.

We were lulled by perfect weather and the beauty of the Indian Ocean until halfway between the Cocos Islands and the Chargos Arch. Suddenly the Mary, after a sudden turn to Starboard, increased speed to 30 knots, left the convoy and headed off on her own.

She was much safer alone as she could outrun any submarine pack, for it was a sub alert that caused all the excitement.

That sudden sharp turn to Starboard had frightened hell out of us and almost threw us off our feet. This mighty vessel was suddenly leaning like a yacht, the whole 80,700 tons of her!

It took her three or four miles to get back onto an even keel and point herself at Ceylon. She had quite her zigzagging now, knowing she could outrun any sub-surface vessel due to her amazing speed.

And she got us there, our Mary, her fancy skirts swishing behind her as if the ocean was a dance floor or a stage, her big broad beautiful bottom with nary a wiggle to it.

But we knew she would! I’d have bet my last quid on it!

Noel Oxlade told a story of their Mascot on this trip, a joey (young kangaroo), which they had smuggled aboard, against regulation. The poor creature soon ate all the supplies which the men had brought with them, so they asked a civilian crew member, who happened to be French for help.

In no time the man returned with a silver tray and cover which he removed with a flourish sayning " I know what the Anglaise like to eat for breakfast" and revealed a soft boiled egg in a silver egg cup with thin slices of buttered bread beside it. Fortunately for the joey he also managed to find some greens when the men explained what it ate.

Noel Oxlade had boxed at school ("Churchie – Church of England Grammar School) where it was considered character building and won the Welter Weight Boxing Title on the "Queen Mary". He was awarded a silver pen knife which he always carried with him. He didn't mind boxing but told of how the best boxer in his school hated it and was beaten with a cane each time he refused to box.

The Tripoli Washerwoman

7th Division Cavalry Regiment Tripoli Syria 1941 PH

We had returned from Cyprus via the British destroyers, Decoy and Havoc landing at Haifa, and then proceeded up the coast and into Lebanon, at times dodging around pollution and the rubbish of the vicious and double-faced Vichy French. We camped in an olive grove above Tripoli.

Syria had been a French mandate and many of the young locals (mostly girls) had been brought up in French schools and convents. Next morning some of them were permitted into camp to collect washing. They were very good at it and we certainly needed our clobber washed and ironed.

"Butch" Oxlade was on his groundsheet, head on his haversack and a groundsheet covering him from his feet to over his head, just like a long grey cocoon. One of the women asked me; "Has he any washing?" I said, Yes."

She tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Do your washing, George?" No reply or movement. We were stepping back by then, as no one like waking old "Butch". The rebuff could be hard on the ears if "Butch" was out of sorts.

The woman pulled the groundsheet off his head, then patted him on the face and said, "Can I do your washing, George?" "Butch" never stirred, just looked and could see black shoes, black sox, black skirt – black everything – and growled, "J---- Ch----, piss off!

Instead of being shocked, the woman beamed and called to the others, "Look, look, he Roman Catholic like me, he knows Jesus Christ".

This story was completely out of character for Noel Oxlade who treated women with great courtesy and respect. Perhaps he was still suffering from the effects of Black Water Fever (a tropical disease caused by malarial infection, which led to his death sixteen years later) as he had recently spent some time in hospital.

While there a young French woman visited him daily, had his washing done and did whatever she could to bring him comfort. After he was released he wanted to repay her kindness and asked if she would like to go to a Yehudi Menuhin Concert, as she was a violinist in an orchestra.

He was amazed when she said no thank you, what she would really like was a pair of Australian Army boots in her size. He managed to have a pair of boots made for her in oxblood coloured leather and also to take her to the Concert.

Waiting to Leave Australia (Extracts)

7 Division Cavalry Regiment – 1942 QX13515

The 7 Div and others had been expecting to go away for some time. At the same time, they all expected that they would get home leave before they embarked. As a matter of fact, they considered that it was promised and had faith in this supposed promise. Suddenly, there was movement and the division was going onto ships. The Cav and its vehicles were used to transport troops and equipment to the wharves. Many of the troops were very bitter at not getting home leave and our drivers brought home some hair raising tales of what they said of their leaders.

One afternoon, General Blamey came to the wharf to farewell his boys and to cheer them on their way. Blamey’s tubby figure was well known to everyone and he was heartily booed by his departing boys. In a short silence a soldier, loaded down like a mule, yelled from the top deck, "What about our home leave, you fat old brothel bashing bastard?" He was strongly supported by the troops on board and the send off relieved their feelings . . . .

. . . Half the Cav had not been so isolated from their wives or families as other units. A and B Squadrons were enlisted largely within Queensland and most came from within one hundred and fifty miles of Brisbane. Even my father managed to get leave from his unit for a very happy reunion.

With petrol rationing the further out families found it difficult to save enough petrol to visit us. Many had attached gas producer units to their cars to get about and some just to visit their sons in the forces while they could. I remember a young woman driving a big car into the camp towing a huge gas producer. She stepped out of the car and walked around to inspect the producer which immediately blew a cloud of charcoal dust and soot over her very attractive floral frock which must have used up many clothing coupons. At a time like that, no girl should have to go through such an experience.

It was probably a happy time for the young couples, as the wives seemed to manage to find accommodation close to us wherever we moved. Still they had the dread of a sudden separation hanging over them. While their husbands had this dread too and the rest were enjoying the closeness to people they were at home with, they had no wish to avoid their obligation to the war effort, which was now a very personal one. It was with mixed feelings they looked on the near future.

They were dreading the separation, but were also apprehensive that we might be isolated from the division, as we were in the Cyprus episode, and thus be irrelevant. Some didn’t want to miss the great adventure. Sad though the parting was, it was a relief to be taken to the wharf and put on the Katoomba . . . .

Brisbane to Moresby

The Katoomba was an Australian ship, crewed by Australians, with an army troop commander who we thought was very old, very likeable and had the job each of us envied. His dry humour was that of an old WWI digger and very much appreciated by the troops. As an example, one morning when he had all the troops paraded to give them a situation report, he started off by saying, "You are now two and a half miles from land." Everyone looked out and there was no land to be seen anywhere. After a suitable pause he said, "Directly below you".

The ship was a dry ship, the food was fair and we had been together for a long time with few changes in personnel; had shared so many things material and emotional that we were more like a huge family than a unit. Individual idiosyncrasies were accepted as expressions of character rather than faults, though this was hard at times.

Of course, we trained and I was both unarmed combat and PT instructor. One morning during PT, about 100 men were jumping up and down and flinging their arms out sideways all the time. Out in front of the squad, I thought this looked pretty good when a furious ship's officer confronted me.

"Stop this immediately" he said. Being startled I said, "Why?" While the hundred bodies kept jumping up and down like automatons. Normally an officer’s command would have an immediate response. Perhaps I was slow because he wasn’t wearing an army uniform.

"I gave the order to halt at once. You’re shaking the bloody ship apart," he said.

He was an engineer and had rushed up from the engine room to save the ship. After that there was no synchronised exercises that might damage the ship. We respected her age.

It is unlikely that Noel Oxlade was on this voyage as he had gone AWOL for 3 days in order to get married. He had gone to school with the Priest who married he and Gloria Ryan so that the legal formalities were dispended with, however Gloria and her mother spent the day scouring Brisbane to find something suitable for her to marry in. They met with great kindness as shop assistants who had put away precious items towards their own wedding day, gave them up.

This included, most precious of all, a pair of silk stockings, instead of pan cake make-up applied to the legs and with the aid of an assistant a line drawn up the back to simulate a stocking seam.

Mary Lucy Ryan was a great semptstress and had she had time would no doubt done as many other mothers had done during the war and turned white damask table cloths and napkins into a wedding dress. The very lucky girls had connections who could obtain an American silk parachute which were turned into beautiful wedding gowns.

Noel was given time in the Stockade near Caboolture (where two of his daughters now live) for being AWOL and was sent on Forced Marches with full pack as part of the punishment. Hot going even in a Queensland Winter! His younger brother Lionel drove through the area one day and there was Noel, walking along having a cigarette, while the soldier who was supposed to be guarding him carried both rifles (one unloaded) and the very heavy pack. The soldier probably went to school with Noel, or played football with him or boxed or Noel had perhaps shared his letters with him in the Middle East or some other connection which he made so easily and kept all his life.

He made acquaintance with his first born, Susan, when she was twelve months old. He had been very ill and was given leave, delivered home in an unwashed cattle truck, such were the times. Susan can remember sitting up in a high chair, being fed by her mother in the hallway of her grandmother's home and looking out through the latticed verandah doors to see her father jump out of the back of a truck.

She recognised him instantly as the maiden ladies next door, the misses Peacock, used to show her his photo every day and coach her to say "Dada." Her mother was stunned to see that it was indeed Noel as no information was given about troop movement of any sort and she had no idea that he was even in Australia.

Noel's life was sadly cut short, when he died aged 40, due to illness caused by his War Service, in Port Moresby, PNG 1 June 1957.

Source: Site http://www.minerva.com.au/austwardiary/warriors/warriors.htm and personal recollections of his daughter Susan.

Last changed: 2711/2006, 15:45:00