I was born in the village of Rubery (Anglo-Saxon, ruh beorg  for rough hill) sitting in the Lickey Hills in what is now the West Midlands. It is built on the site of two Medieval Lost villages, Echery & Gannow. Gannow manor was the family home of Anne Boleyn’s family. The village was still divided at the time of my birth and remains so to this day. The southeastern area is part of the borough of Bromsgrove (in the old county of Worcester), the northwestern area is a suburb of the city of Birmingham (in the old county of Warwick). The area was rural until 1911, other than a few farms there was also granite and sandstone mining & brick making. Other places of interest being the old Roman salt road, Saint Chad’s ( Ceadwealla) holy well, and Whetty Coppice an unmanaged ancient (pre-1600) stand of hazel & oak. At the time of my birth, four months before Britain entered World War Two, our household consisted of me, my mother, father & my paternal grandfather. Eighteen months later my father was serving in the British army, my grandfather had died in the previous Winter, and my mother had died suddenly of a cerebral hemorrhage, and I was placed in temporary care over Christmas 1940 in the Birmingham City orphanage.

In January 1941, at the age of 20 months, I was evacuated to the care of a middle aged, childless couple on a hill farm in Meirionnydd in the mountains of North Wales. I remained there until the war ended. Many people have commented on the conflict  children had leaving their evacuation family and returning to their parents. I didn’t have a conflict, I did not wish to return to a home with no mother, and a father I had no memory of. When I was re-united with my father I spoke very little English, and he no Welsh. It was never to become a close relationship, I felt he resented me but would not agree to me being adopted. and I took every opportunity (all school holidays) to return to my Welsh Taid & Nain, travelling on my own by bus and train from the age of nine. At the age of eleven I won a place in the grammar school.

At the time I finished school the industrial Midlands was extremely short of adult males, which resulted in very few jobs for school leavers. Other than those employed in their own family businesses only 4 of my classmates were employed, an apprentice hairdresser, one to the Royal Navy, and two professional footballers (Aston Villa & Wolverhampton Wanders). Most of my school year emigrated, boys Australia & Africa, girls to Canada & New Zealand. I chose Australia because it was free, and I had no money.

I was to sail on the RMS Otranto from Tilbury. My father and stepmother saw me off at Birmingham’s Snow Hill railway station and then I was on my own. At the time we sailed Suez was being fought over, so we came the long way round, Gran Canaria (Canary Islands), Cape Town & Durban (South Africa) to Fremantle, Adelaide, Melbourne to Sydney. The Otranto went on to Brisbane and then the breaker’s yard.

Two days at Homebush, then out to the farm (at that time said to be at Cecil Plains). I was one of the first to leave, I was given a rail ticket and a voucher for a railway’s pie & a cup of tea. So off to Muswellbrook.

I was expecting to be met, but it was not so, after a couple of hours the Station Master asked who I was and what I was doing, and then left. A short time later two NSW Policemen arrived and asked the same questions.

After learning who my employer was, they informed me I was to report to the police station every Wednesday. Sometime later my employer arrived with a pony & trap and I was taken out to the farm. My accommodation was an unlined tin shed (about 10-foot square), dirt floor, no door, a bed constructed of 6 branches of bush timber and 4 wheat sacks. The only other furniture was another branch wired to the wall that had some 4-inch nails driven into it. There was a water trough outside the door, and a spade to dig my toilet holes with. My meals were to be collected at the kitchen door, as I had to go into Musswelbrook every Wednesday it was deemed to be my Sunday, I was not to leave until after morning milking, and be back before evening milking. I was required to work Saturday afternoon to pay for my food & lodgings. Initially food was good but deteriorated to bread & tomatoes. If I had not been befriended by the family in the next farm, I would never have been able to have a shower or do any laundry. Eventually I gave notice and returned to Sydney.

On reporting to the BBM office I was given the address of a boarding house in Glebe, I said “not Homebush”, and was told “no Mr. Mansell says you are a troublemaker”. Interestingly about 6 months later I found out why I had to report to the Musswelbrook police. An article in the Sydney Morning Herald stated that a Bernardo’s boy had been charged with the attempted murder of my former employer, who it was stated “was well known to police”.

My next placement was to a dairy farm near Nowra, a train to Bomaderry where I was met by my new boss, so out to the farm.

Accommodation was about the same size, but lined, with a door and fully furnished, with attached toilet & shower. Meals were taken in the house. with the family. All was looking very good; I was happy and able to talk about the differences in dairy farming in the UK compared to Australia.

Then one evening when the family were away & I was left to milk on my own, I was scrubbing down the bails when I got a large splinter in the palm of my hand. I was unable to get it out, and as well as hurting it was also bleeding profusely so I hitched into the Nowra hospital where it was cut out, closed with 5 stitches and dressed. On leaving the doctor gave me a letter and said, “Tell your boss, a week’s compo”. I returned to the farm and went to bed. Next morning the boss asked what had happened to my hand, I told him and gave him the letter. His reply shocked me, he said he was not going to feed and pay me for a week doing nothing. He told me to pack, see his wife for pay that was due. I would have been without breakfast if his wife, who was not happy, hadn’t slipped me a sandwich.

Back to Glebe! During the time I was waiting for my next BBM placement I spent time working casually at a tyre retreader in Woolloomooloo. This allowed me to get a bit of money together and buy some new clothes. Then to Camden Park, picked up from Camden by the farm manager, accommodation was OK, ex-Army barrack block, meals taken with other workers provided by farm manager’s wife. No problems until a buff OHMS letter arrived, I was called up for National Service in the Army and was required to report to Ingleburn. I was told the law required that my employer was to hold my job open. Nasho was great, good accommodation, good food and mateship, first time I felt I belonged.

On completion I returned to Camden, and guess what – no job, I had been replaced by a boy from Bernardo’s. So back to Glebe. My last placement with BBM was to a sheep & wheat farm near Gunnedah. I received a rail ticket, and voucher for a railway pie & a cup tea.

I was collected on arrival and taken out to the farm. An unlined tin shed, but at least it had a door, concrete floor, proper furniture, toilet & bucket shower. I was surprised when I was asked where I learned to speak English so well. Meals to be collected from the kitchen door. Instructed not to speak to the two daughters, the eldest was 18 and engaged to a fellow in the RAAF, the younger 16 was still at school. She used to sneak out at night sometimes. I had been there a couple of months and was down to £2 and some small change, so I asked for some pay. I was told BBM had never said I was to be paid by him. Wearing my Army uniform I hitched into town.

At the railway I asked the Station Master how much the cheapest ticket to Sydney was. I had worn my Army uniform in case I had to hitch. The Station Master told me to go to the tearoom and tell them to give me a feed. I travelled to Sydney for free in the guard’s van. At Central I was passed on to a platform attendant who took me to the R T O (Rail Travel Office). After telling a Army Corporal I was looking to enlist for 3 years to enable me to keep my Lance Corporal’s stripe. It was suggested I return the next day and they would take me to the recruiting office at Rushcutter’s Bay. After a railway pie & a night at the YMCA I returned. At Rushcutter’s Bay the Army recruiter was not there, and the Navy CPO persuaded me 9 years in the Navy would be better than 6 years in the RAAF, so up to Victoria Barracks to return all my Army uniform, another night at the YMCA and the next day, together with a dozen or so others, I was off in the Sydney to Melbourne train on route to HMAS Cerberus (Flinder’s Naval Depot) at Crib Point. As my association with BBM in Australia was slightly short of two years, and not the greatest experience. My life after the 3rd of January 1959 is another story.

Below: David wearing his medals, 2018

• National Service medal from Aust Army, the rest from Naval service.
• Navy General Service medal- end of Malay Emergency from action when Singapore separated from Malayasia.
• General Service medal with clasps Malay Peninsular & Borneo, Australian Active Service medal with Malaya & Borneo clasps.
• Viet Nam Logistics & Support medal.
• Australian Service medal with Far East Strategic Reserve clasp
• Long Service Defense medal
• Malayasian Service medal for service in Malayan Confrontation & Indonesia-Malayasia Confrontation.

 

 

 

 

 

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