NEBO IN THE 1940’s - The Day The Best Telegram in the World Came.

NEBO IN THE 1940’s  -  The Day The Best Telegram in the World Came.

A telegram came to the post office that dad and two younger men, Carney and Robin Ney were coming home on leave; they had joined together and were posted to the same company.  It was a wonderful day when dad arrived in his uniform – fully armed with 303rifle with bayonet attached, gas mask, steel helmet and all his webbing; He also had two kit bags and a bulging holdall.  One thing I noticed was that dad and the other soldiers who arrived home had a yellow complexion.  We learned later that this was from the malaria prevention medication all soldiers in New Guinea had to take.

Once home dad unpacked his bags; he had a grass skirt for mum!  For us boys we had the pick of a small outrigger canoe, a Japanese bullet (it was a smaller calibre than a 303 and had a red band near the cartridge case – Dad said it was a tracer).  Also there were tins of concentrated emergency rations – Dad said they would keep small boys alive for a fortnight if lost in the bush.  He also brought necklaces and bangles for mum; these were made of Perspex from crashed aircraft…

Us kids tried on the helmet and gas mask – we soon found out you could suffocate the kid wearing the gas mask by bending the hose to cut off the air supply!  Dad quickly returned it to its bag before one of us had a ‘near death experience’!

Our lighting at home consisted of hurricane lamps and one fancy light made mostly of glass with the only metal parts being the wick holder and four metal pins to hold the glass chimney in place.  From new it had a fault – it would catch fire sometimes at the top of the glass kerosene container and mum would call at least two boys, each one on opposite sides of the lamp to blow it out then it would be OK for as long as it was in use on each occasion. (Sometime it would catch again when newly lit and the same procedure was called for, always with the same success!).  Dad lit it on the first night home and it did it’s old trick of bursting into flame but before mum could call us boys dad hurled it out the kitchen window to smash on the hard ground in a big burst of fire – he was obviously too used to seeing bursts of fire and things blow up.  The same night Chum busted the lamp he cleaned up all the possums that had been raiding the flour bag and sleeping in the rafters.  Next morning we had a hole to dig to bury the possums and broken glass lamp.

Other Nebo soldiers came home at the same time so Nebo Shire put on a day rodeo to be followed by a dance that night.  The ‘musical chairs’ was played by riding horses in a circle around a group of chairs with one chair less each time.  With two riders left and only one chair dad won by being the quickest to dismount and run and claim it.

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The bullock riding was the best ever seen, everyone was cheering for Robin Ney who kept riding until they ran out of bullocks.  Although he was thrown many times he always managed too limp back for more!  The biggest cheer went up on his last ride when he came out of the Shute riding backwards and holding the bullock’s tail for balance!

At the dance all the soldiers were welcomed back on their short ‘Leave Time’ and wished good luck and many prayers were offered for them as they soon would  return to the battlefields on the Pacific Islands.

Colin Kingsbury made everyone laugh by doing his special acts from the Entertainment Unit in the Army.  There were no fights that night and even Dave Mather behaved himself.  Colin used to be a stockman with dad and had joined the Army in 1939.

Next day dad wanted to do some shooting practice as it was only a few days before they would leave for Mackay to catch the Troop Train to go south.  I made a cardboard target for him and dad showed me how to load five bullets into a clip so they could be pushed into the magazine.  We went across the road to the saleyard paddock, I nailed the target to a tree and Chum sighted his rifle in but said it would kick too much for me to use it..  The next few days went very quickly and it was time for Doug Fairburn Snr to pick us up for the trip to Mackay.  We stayed at the Australian Hotel and Chum caught the Troop Train next day.  Hundreds of soldiers were hanging out of the train windows as it came into the station and all happy to see their mates.  As the train left some of he soldiers tried to grab the Station Master’s cap but he was too quick for them – He must have lost a cap before!

Mackay was busy and crowded with American soldiers and Airmen.  Many great little Jeeps were parked in the streets – there were fighter aircraft flying over the city.  The American MPs with their white helmets, belts and gaiters driving around in their jeeps looked formidable and quite impressive (but Chum said MP stood for Mother’s Pet.. – Somehow I didn’t think so!).  The American soldiers and Airmen were good to kids and always had time to talk to you and give you belt buckles and badges.

Roddy McDonald and Vera had left Nebo and were running the Duke of Edinburgh Hotel in Walkerston and invited Mum and us three boys to stay for a few days on the was home to Nebo.  Doug dropped us off in Walkerston and would pick us up later.

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 Next day we met a young soldier from Texas and as good luck would have it he was a cowboy!  He said he could rope any critter alive.  Never boys to miss an opportunity we got him some rope and with a couple of the McDonald kids went to the back of the hotel.  He got his rope ready and quickly lassoed a slow old duck, which we tied up like a poddy calf.  He then threw a loop over a big rooster, which made a terrible row and kept leaping into the air and trying to spike us with his spurs when we were trying to hogtie him.  Someone must have told Vera, or she heard the commotion with all the poultry running around!  She really went crook at us all and said we had upset the hens so badly they wouldn’t lay for at least a week!  Most of the Americans were only about ten years older than us and were great fun to be with whereas most Australian Soldiers wouldn’t be bothered with kids, their questions and the games they wanted to play – I guess it showed how homesick the American boys were.

Whilst in Walkerston we Nebo kids were shown how to put a wallet in the middle of the road with a string attached, long enough to hide behind a bush then quickly pull it in when an unsuspecting driver pulled up.  It wouldn’t work in Nebo as there were hardly any cars and Jackie Arnold would probably come along in his big wagon, see you from his high seat and give the bush you were hiding behind a good crack with his whip! Jackie Arnold with Snowy Burgess helping would be often seen in Nebo delivering water during the dry time to many houses and firewood all year round.  They were especially busy before there droving trips and were very good at making sure everyone had wood and water.  It was a great sight to see that big wagon arrive with four beautiful horses pulling it.  Snowy still has the wagon in his shed at Nebo – it still looks as grand as ever with its big iron shod wooden wheels and high seat.

Our holiday was soon over and Doug pulled up outside in his dusty Diamond T and we all piled in for the hot and bumpy ride back to Nebo.

Marbles were the go at school, every kid has his/her bag of marbles stashed somewhere.  All glass and agate marbles were highly prized and in the tin kerosene pump there was a beautiful little glass marble acting as a valve at the bottom of the pump.  Most mums, including mine, threatened their kids with sure and sudden exposure to violence if you even looked at the bottom of the pump too long!  The only chance to get one of these marbles was to search for an old pump at the dump, that’s if it wasn’t too near the nine stingers who had built more nests in old empty drums.  A dink was a low class marble made of clay but ‘professionally manufactured’ (they had to be fired!) it could be ‘faked’ if you were game enough.  One boy made a few and only sundried them before painting them with his little tin of water paint.

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A big ring was drawn in the dirt and several boys could play; each boy put their marbles or dink in the ring; each player firing from the edge of the ring had to get his marble and the one he was trying to hit out of the ring before he could keep it.  You were allowed to play from any part of the ring.  Marbles or dinks close to the edge were easier to get out without losing your own marble.  The fake dink broke in half when hit with a big tom bowler (an outsize marble) the big boys grabbed him, tipped out his marble bag and took one each of his best marbles.  My fake dinks were from a patch of white clay near the cow yard and baked in Mum’s oven.  I felt confident they wouldn’t break, but it was too big a risk to take especially with the big tom bowlers!

So it was back to school, chores and games to occupy our interests after the wonderful days of having our Nebo soldiers home with their families.  Our dad was gone again and we were left with the increased longing that the war would soon end and he, along with all the others, would return home for good soon…

Ainslie McCall                                                                                                                         

Mackay, April 2011

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NEBO IN THE 1940’s CONTINUES

NEBO IN THE 1940’s CONTINUES

The war was going badly for the Nebo soldiers and airmen.

Francis and Peter Butterworth had been captured in Singapore by the Japanese Army.  Bobby Quinn, dad’s mate, had been killed when his bomber crashed in England; his twin brother, who had joined the army, was killed in North Africa.

At our school Jim, who thought we had done so well digging slit trenches, decided to start a school garden.  First we had to dig a manure pit. Combining this with a geometry lesson, Jim gave us the measurements and we were set to work to figure out and dig a 10ft x 10ft pit 4ft deep: the diagonals had to be the same length to keep each corners 90degees.

At the same time Jim started to teach singing lessons at the schoolhouse with Mrs Collins playing the piano.  I was one of the first boys to be sent to garden digging duties, followed very swiftly by more ‘out of tune’ boys!  After a few months Jim declared the pit correct mathematically and ready to fill with manure, which was to be collected from the surrounding flats.  Every pull-along cart and wheelbarrow was to be brought to school each Friday morning – Friday afternoons the flats were filled with kids picking up cow dung.

Mrs Jessie Burgess told Jim, when all the surrounding flats were clear of manure, we could dig out her goat pens, which had about a foot and a half of solid goat manure and, for good measure, contained a grumpy old billy goat who didn’t care to leave his pen with the rest of the herd – he smelt pretty bad as well!   We got two boys to hold a horn each while our best poddy-calf rider jumped on his back  - he immediately swapped ends in mid-air and slammed the unlucky boy onto the ground.  We all tried to ride him – without success – just ended up smelling as bad as he did, with skin missing and a small amount of blood spilt.  Clabo, Mrs Burgess’ big son, caught us and suggested we get the billygoat cart, which was a sturdy four-wheeler, and he would harness him up if we had a driver.  We picked Brian Collins, Jim’s son, as we didn’t want him to go home smelling as bad as we did. Brian was a gentle boy and we did not want him to get hurt.  Clabo put the harness on and attached the cart, Brian climbed aboard as we convinced him all would be OK, Clabo slapped the goat who took off like a rocket.  The cart went up on two wheels as he raced in a big circle.  Brian had lost the reins and was hanging on to the seat – the billy was in complete control – he shot under a low rail and took Brian straight out of the cart.  Clabo got Brian breathing again and brushed most of the dust from him.  Brian never came to the goat pen again and was given the job of watering the pit when Mert brought a tank of water on Fridays.  We only took another three Fridays to get Mrs Burgess’ pens down to natural ground.  The billy still taunted us a bit but nobody was game to touch him.

By the time we had all the garden beds dug, the water had turned all the manure to black soil.  Jim had us spread it on all the beds and we planted cabbage, lettuce, tomatoes, rosellas, sugar-loaf cabbage, beans, beetroot, watermelons and pumpkins.  There were plenty of worms (which Jim, much to our dismay, frowned upon our using for fishing!).  Our garden was so prolific every kid from the school took home fresh vegetables on Fridays – a small donation towards the school garden from parents allowed Jim to continue buying seeds.

Mrs Copp owned one of the three stores in Nebo; it was situated across the road from the schoolhouse.  She sold all kind of goods and the only shop that sold comics -‘Alley Oop’, ‘Red Ryder’, ‘Hurricane Hawk’ and ‘Buck Rodgers’.  The last two were mine; aeroplanes and spaceships.  Mrs Copp’s community job in wartime Nebo was that of ‘Aeroplane Spotter’.  For this she was allocated a pair of field glasses so she could identify all aircraft overflying Nebo.  (I just knew I could have done Mrs Copp’s job!).  She was also good at working out what was wrong with sick boys and selling their parents a cure!  Any ache near the kidneys we complained of would see mum arrive home with a bottle of De Witts pills – these would make the complaining child pee green with a blue tinge – this was good as it made the other boys wonder if you were a Martian.  Rawleigh’s ointment and Iodine was the answer for all wounds, although old Mert swore that Stockholm Tar fixed everything!

Mum had saved enough money to order a water tank from Mackay; the old tank at the front of our house had many rust holes sealed with wooden plugs and  painted with a tar paint known as samsonite.  The tank had no top so we had to be ever vigilant for dead frogs; it was not uncommon for frog’s legs to pop out on occasions when the tap was turned on… a long stick had been placed inside for them to climb out, but some never made it!

Doug Fairburn was to bring the new tank from Mackay in his Diamond T. truck.  The day finally came for delivery when Doug arrived with the most battered tank you ever saw – the overflow was bent sideways, the tap was hanging loose with the solder split and the lid and strainer could not be found in the bush.  Doug was standing on our verandah explaining to mum how the tank kept escaping from the back of the truck and leaping into the bush and sometimes passing him on the road.  Unbeknown to Doug, he was standing on some very thin floorboards – they broke and he fell through to the ground beneath, standing no taller than I was still explaining what happened to the tank!

Dave Mather came on his three-wheeled bike with his tool kit and had the tank soldered in one day.  I was small enough to go inside with Dave’s hammer and a bit of wood to knock out most of the dents.

Chum was still serving overseas and his letters to mum were heavily censored; there was an art to reading them as they contained many gaps in the paper.  Mum came from a family of  ‘boy soldiers’ and obviously had picked up many tactics to overcome full censorship – I always thought of her as a super-spy!  She and dad had obviously worked out a code as one day she was reading his cut-up letter when she read, ‘Sorry to hear George is sick.’  At this mum said, ‘Quick, light the fire and boil the kettle and bring me your school Atlas.’  With the kettle boiling Mum got the envelope and held the stamp on the letter to the steam; with great care she removed the stamp, underneath which was written ‘Goodenough Island’.  So, with the aid of the Atlas we found where dad was.  Later on the same thing happened and the Island this time was Bougainville where the elite Japanese marines were.  Mum told us she used George’s name, as she didn’t want to use any of ours. (George was my black cat – he had almost been killed as a kitten by a tomcat – He was partly blind and had lost his voice, but a great companion never the less.).

Nebo Creek always had many swimming spots, from the big waterhole near the present showgrounds to ‘The Drop’ opposite the Nebo Hotel, ‘The Plum Tree Hole’ down from the old police station to ‘McFarlane’s Hole’.  One day we were walking along the Nebo side of the creek when three of us were intercepted by three young teenage stockmen who were with Amos Dixon.  The stockmen told us one of us had to fight Amos (they must have been feeling bored!).  Believing that I was as good as Hurricane Hawk I said; “I’ll do it “! They explained that there would be rounds and that we had to shake hands before we fought one another.  I remember shaking hands first then whacking Amos in the stomach for a first hit.  After the first few rounds Luke and Albert said I wasn’t doing too badly because Amos was bigger than me.  The young stockmen stopped the fight after a while never saying who had won.  Luke and Albert took me to ‘The Plum Tree Hole’ and told me to wash the blood off before I went home.  When I dived in and hit the cold water the pain in my face was evidence of how much skin I had lost!  When I got home mum said that I couldn’t go to the school dance looking like that and because I had been fighting - so I stayed home with my cat and kangaroo rat.  (Luke always said, ‘Get that rat away from my dog it will give him marsupial ticks).  I guess he didn’t like it as much as I did – probably not at all, come to think of it!  (Amos Dixon now lives in Brisbane – he plays bowls with my younger brother Don.  He still remembers the Nebo Creek fight and told Don all about it)!

Sergeant Jaenke, forever vigilant of the goings-on in the community, heard about the fight.  He told the young stockmen who organised the fight that he would make them join the army if they had nothing better to do than cause mischief in the town.  He said to mum; ‘Your boys’ dad is fighting ‘Japs’ while these lads obviously have nothing better to do than to cause trouble in town’.  They soon went quickly back to their cattle station because stockmen were exempt from military service.

 

The dances at the Nebo Hall were still good fun but we missed the Bruce boys, Foley, Bill and Murray who had recently joined the military.   They were the best athletes in town; they could outplay anyone on the cricket field or on the tennis court.  Bill used to fix mum’s old radio; an absolute necessity to us – we needed to know what was happening!  It was mostly used at night to listen to the news, ‘Mrs ‘Obbs’, ‘Dad and Dave’ and ‘First Light Fraser’.  The signal it picked up was from Orange NSW, call sign 2GZ – a very long way from Nebo.  During the day mum turned it on near midday to get the correct time.  She would hang a large sheet up for 15 minutes to allow Mrs McDonald to set her clock – eventually everyone in Nebo who could see our house knew what time it was!

The Log Cabin was the best dance to watch as the dancers had to jump from side to side which caused all the dust from between the floorboards to fly out with great effect!  (The Bruce boys were the very best at this).  After this dance, several holes would appear in the floor, then we would have to go outside and break branches off trees to put into the holes so the people in the next dance wouldn’t fall in.

On the other side of the wall where the single ladies sat at the dance, there were rooms for stockmen and swagmen to rent during their sojourns in town.  Sadly, dad’s uncle Martin spent a lot of his time, when he was not working as a stockman, passed out in one of these rooms after binge drinking his pay cheque funds.  

Martin McCall was a light horseman during World War 1; because the Cavalry could not take their horses into the mud of The Somme, all Cavalry Soldiers fought as Infantrymen. Martin was severely wounded when shrapnel from an exploding shell tore into his back.  He said he heard a stretcher-bearer say he was past help; but he eventually crawled back to his trench alone and was evacuated.

When Martin returned from the war in1918, he returned to stockwork.  I would see him ride into Nebo on his grey stockhorse with the perfect seat of a Cavalry Soldier – within a few days he would stagger past our school without shoes or shirt, with dried blood on his body from either fighting or falling down.  The great tragedy was that the kids, and others mocked him and our family for his behaviour.  Martin never married and never talked to anyone about his time ‘at war’.  No one knew the suffering he carried with him from the battlefields of France.  We had our own war going on and were (at that time) totally oblivious to the actual horrors of it.  Thanks to Martin I do not drink, and I think often of the lack of understanding we had for his plight – RIP Martin.

- 3013 Pte McCall Martin                                                                                                           
- 47^th Battalion –Australian Army September 9^th 1916 - July 23^rd 1918

Ainslie McCall                                                                                                                         

November 2010

NEBO IN THE 1940's

NEBO IN THE 1940'S
by Ainslie McCall


Stacked under the schoolhouse were large amounts of tinned food. In the bush was a huge fuel storage area. In the night you could hear the noise as individual 44 gallon drums cooled down in the night air. It was 'War Time'.


Chum and Carol McCall were my mum and dad. Dad was a stockman who joined the Army and would be away for four years, leaving mum, Luke and myself to do the chores on our place. We had a few head of cattle that we had to round up and milk. I used to go out at 6 am to round up the cows and mum did the milking to begin with but I took that over pretty soon after dad left. Gordon was a baby and took up most of mum's time. There were mornings when Billy Butterworth would go pig hunting and he had asked mum if I could go with him to give him a hand to truss the pigs. These mornings meant a 4am start and Archibald, my horse, was always ready for a ride, even though he hated pigs!


Our schoolteacher was Jim Collins. We weren't too afraid of him, but he could and did whack you with his cane, usually well deserved.


During these war years we were always worried about 'the Japs' and Jim had us boys, the few who were at school, dig zig-zag slit trenches. Jim told us he would have to shoot us if we panicked when the first 'Jap' planes came. (This bit of school information upset mum very much when I told her.) When Jim blew a whistle we would all evacuate the school in an orderly manner (trying not to look panicked in case Jim had a pistol!) and pick a part of the trench around the corner where you felt a Zero could not 'line you up'. Jim stopped blowing his whistle when the rain came as it filled up the trench and he knew we would go home to get changed and not come back! After a while, big water rats lived in there so that rather made it obsolete for the time being! Another worry us boys had, the big girls told us 'the japs' would kill all the boys and save the girls! Being eight years old at the time, I thought it would be crazy for 'the Japs' to do that because girls didn't milk cows, ride horses, fish in the creek or do the school garden.


One great ally we had, especially me, was Dave Mather. Dave lived a splendid life in his dirt floored hut with 'Bruiser' his dog and he used to ride a 'to-die-for' three wheeled push bike with a box for Bruiser and a hurricane light for coming home late at night from the Fort Cooper pub. Dave's son was a sniper in the Army and Dave said he was getting three or four 'Japs' every day. Dave was crippled, supposedly, it was rumoured, from a long forgotten wife who gave him either too much or not enough poison! (I did wonder if wives, maybe, were as bad as 'Japs'.)


Dave was an excellent metal worker. He could make anything out of tin, silver, jam tins and old tanks. His hut had no bathroom so Dave didn't waste any water on washing. He always looked a bit brown. He fixed allmanner of pots and pans with his soldering iron. He could even make tin boxes with plaited 4 strand wire for handles. He had a bountiful garden. Dave's speciality was huge red tomatoes that I often took home to give mum until I made the mistake of telling her how he used the garden bed as a toilet to fertilize them. Mum then gave them to the chooks! Dave soon taught cheeky kids not to be personal. I noticed his shirt was stiched up with string so I said, “Dave, do you sew your clothes with string?” His answer was: “Do you use wire?”


A few days a week down in the main street, most of the boys would wait at “Fairburn's Store” in the late afternoon to buy bread and papers (to see where the 'Japs' were). One afternoon Dave came past on his machine and one of the McDonald boys yelled out, “Your back wheel is going around, Dave”. The immediate answer was, “So would you if you had a greasy axle up youre a..e.” That night Dave got into a fight with Mert O'Sullivan, another favourite character of mine. Mert must have got a good hit on Dave as he received a couple of cracked ribs. Dave's dog, Bruiser, stood by his mate and lacerated Mert's ankles a bit in retaliation.


The Postmaster's wife, Mrs Walsh, was a lovely lady. She heard about Dave's predicament a few days after the fight. She called me to her house and gave me a bottle of 'metho' and some liniment to 'doctor' Dave. I found him in his bunk. He was in a bit of pain and didn't smell too good. Bruiser was there wagging his tail in anticipation, obviously something was going on! Under Dave's shirt his body was black! After a few minutes of good 'metho' rubbing his skin turned white, except for a bit of a bruise where Mert got him. Soon I had a big white circle with muddy black edges. Even Bruiser put his two front paws on the bed so he could have a better look.


Dave recovered quickly with not much further help from me but to bring him some Seville oranges. When I asked him a few days later how he liked them he said, “You little pucker, I had to lick my a..e to get the taste out of my mouth...” Mum told me later those oranges were only used for making jam!


Old Sandy Mc was really crook and Dave heard that he was to be taken to hospital in Mackay. He said to get about three or four boys to go to Sandy's place and boil a copper of water. He wanted scrubbing brushes and soap. Dave knew we, having mothers, would be able to acquire such things. He would bring a big bathtub. The plan was to scrub Sandy clean before he was taken to the hospital. This was done (with only a few changes of water!) before he was all pink and clean.


Mrs Walsh was Catholic and loved by all the mothers in Nebo. Mr and Mrs Walsh had no children themselves.


Mum was Presbyterian, however, she had us baptised as Catholics because she admired Mrs Walsh. Dave was Church of England until one day he waited at the end of the line after Service to shake the Parson's hand, shaking a bit as he always did (and probably a bit smelly as well) and he was totally ignored by the Minister, so Dave became a Catholic, much to the delight of Mrs Walsh.


At the time the Catholics had bought the land where an old pub had burned down. The land was still covered in old stumps. Mrs Walsh and us kids were digging them out when Dave arrived and showed us how to use a lever and fulcrum to remove them easily. The church was finally built. Dave made all the silverware and vases and engraved plates for the altar; he taught Mrs Walsh to engrave also. All the soldiers from Nebo had a tree planted at the church. Dad's was near the front steps on the right side from the street.


One day, for the first time, I found Dave crying; his only son, the sniper, had been killed in action. It was sad for me also as Dad was in New Guinea and the 'Japs' were getting closer.  With the church finished, Mrs Walsh needed some altar boys so I ended up in Walkerston learning Latin and living with the nuns in boarding school. For a 'bush boy' it was really hard – no horse or pushbike! Dave grinned a bit when he first saw me in an altar boy's outfit, but liked the way I could hold a candle near Fr
Lyneham's head and heat him up during the Stations of the Cross. “You little pugger,” he said. Another plus, you could see who had big furry tongues when you held the plate during Communion when everyone had to kneel at the altar rails. Dave, Mert and mum used to sit at the back of the church. Some nights during Benediction you could hear them talking. They had never been hit by a nun for doing such a thing and Mrs Walsh never trained them as she did us! Dave, although he was a bit 'bent', did not consider himself to be disabled in any way. I don't think he owned a broom or a duster and he said hygiene was 'a tall Scottish lass'. He loved going to dances at the Fort Cooper hall attached to the pub, facing the creek.


Before the church was built Mrs Walsh hired it for Mass, First Communion and Confession – where you had to try and think what crime you committed, like a bit of poddy dodging after the drovers went past and left a calf behind, or when Mert showed us how to make five scalps out of one dingo by using the four big foot pads, boring two holes for nostrils, then glue some ears on and wait until they were a bit smelly before taking them to the town clerk for one pound each. I never actually did it because I knew what happened to Ned Kelly and I didn't want Sergeant Jaenke after me; but even thinking bout a sin can get a little catholic boy into hell so Mrs Walsh said!


Everyone loved going to the Saturday night dances at the hall, especially Dave, and, of course, everywhere Dave went Bruiser followed!. Dave's favourite entertainment on these occasions was to sit at the right hand side of the door where there were many small holes in the wall. Most of the elderly women sat on this side while the younger girls sat on the opposite side facing the door. All the men were outside and a few of us boys. Dave always carried several pieces of grass. He would squint through a hole in the wall and line up a ladies ear, then he would thread the grass through the hole and tickle. The result was a big scream and a leap into the air by the poor unfortunate lady thinking that some 'Nebo Bug' had got her. This would keep Dave happy for about 30 minutes or so then he would slide a few feet along the stool and select another victim!


One particular night Dave beat his own record for practical jokes. Ted Farragher had a special song he always performed with great gusto. It was a 'somebody done somebody wrong song' about a girl called Laura. Halfway through the song Ted would lean as far back as he could without falling over and with both hands in the air imploringly, he would hold a long note “...speak to me Lauraaaaa....”, when someone on the verandah yelled even lounder, “Speak to the bastard, Laura, and make him shut up.” Ted immediately went to redline, leapt off the stage and hit the floor running. Us boys sat at the end of the hall facing the stage, so we left the hall in Ted's wake as there was sure to be a fight, one not to be missed! Ted went through the men on the verandah and was out in the dusty street 'shadow boxing' and kicking up a lot of dust like a scrub bull, wanting the culprit to come and fight him. I had a quick look around and the only one red in the face and whimpering was Dave. (It was not long after he'd had his ribcage attacked so it still hurt to laugh!) He even stopped shaking a bit while the threat existed. That marked Ted's final stage appearance. He would never sing 'Laura' again!


It is sad to note in this day and age in Australia, Political Correctness has taken over. Mothers would never allow their boys to visit old friends such as we had in their old ramshackle homes and learn how to solder or plait wire, how to stop a poddy calf from dying or wash an old man, dying from cancer, before he was taken to the hospital. No one was afraid of paedophiles or of getting some disease from drinking tea from a big old (used to be white) enamel mug. It just put your immune system on high alert in both Dave and Mert's houses!


My little granddaughter, Sarah, would have fitted in at my age in Nebo. She already knows you don't have to
have a shower every day as it takes 25 hours for the sun's vitamin D to soak into your system before washing it off! Our daughter caught her out not showering for three days. Dave would have been proud of her.


Our days in Nebo were full. There was never time to be bored and the place was full of characters I remember with great regard.


Ainslie McCall
May 2010
Note:
There were no streets named in the 40's. The School house, the Post Office and the Hotel are still in the same place. The Hall was attached to the Hotel in what is now Water Street. Our cattle paddock was the 10 acres that is now Blue Gum Estate. The other 5 Acres was our house block which is now enclosed on three sides by Trimmer St, Lawrence Street and Peak Downs Highway. Daves place was on what is now the corner of Baker and Oxford Streets.
The Catholic Church was on the corner of Oxford and Reynolds Streets which is now parkland. Mert lived in the bush to the north of what is now Cemetry Road.