Town Talk | The Dunera

Last week I mentioned having received a copy of Lurline and Arthur Knee’s book Marched in and wondered how it had got to me. This week I have a full explanation; no angelic interference, simply good people looking after our assets.

I continue to enjoy this remarkable and important book — or most of it, at any rate. I have never enjoyed the ‘Dunera story’ and never will. However, I found quite a bit of information about the end of the story; in other words, what happened to the Jewish people when they arrived in Australia. And this part warms my heart.

In England

It seems that, in 1940, in our ‘mother country’, people in power had concerns about the Jews. Were some of them working for the Nazis? And, if so, how could they tell the good guys from the ‘Nazi sympathisers’?

So, problem solved! Send the Jews to Australia aboard the Dunera.

The journey

The sufferings of those aboard the Dunera have been well documented — and some of the guards responsible tried in a court of law in Britain. It is difficult to read, or write, about these horrors; these unnecessarily cruel treatments inflicted by British sailors on their Jewish passengers.

Australia

However, from the time the ship docked in Fremantle, things began to change.

“A party of Australian officers came on board and carried out a detailed inspection of the prisoners and their quarters. Their faces clearly showed disgust and disbelief at the conditions we had to endure. They registered their disapproval with the commanding officer of the guards, who was later to face a court martial.” This quote from Voyage of an alien — Vittorio Tolaini.

Were these British sailors afraid? I hope they were! I hope they looked at the servicemen of our young nation and recognised humanity.

Marco Gazzi remembered: “When we reached Fremantle the Australian authorities came on board, they got rid of the barbed wire, no more ill treatment, and we were treated like human beings. When we arrived at Station Pier (Melbourne), we were put on the train and we were classified ‘Fifth columnists’ i.e. spies and saboteurs, and none of us knew the meaning of the words. We were put on the train and our compartment had a soldier and sergeant looking after us. The sergeant came into our compartment and spoke to us and we all answered in English. ‘Ohrr — you speak better English than we do.’ We were all Italian, but we all spoke with a different accent — Welsh, Scottish, London — and he said to us ‘Do you all smoke?’ and he went off and bought a packet of Woodbine cigarettes, and gave us all one. I said ‘You can give mine to one of the others — I don’t smoke’. And off he went and bought me a two ounce block of Nestlé’s chocolate. And my thought was ‘If an army sergeant can do that for me, it must be a wonderful country’.

“At Seymour the train stopped, and the same thing happened. All the soldiers, all the sergeants bought us each a cup of tea and two slices of fruit cake and the same thought went through my mind — ‘Good God, this is God’s own country, no other country would do this for the enemy’.”

There is a strong possibility that the purchases of food and drinks were made by the government — as a report from the Garrison Battalion mentions:

“A large number of plain clothes police were on the pier, and they proceeded by car to Seymour, where the train was halted. A packet of sandwiches and hot tea was served to the internees and guards on the train.”

But it doesn’t matter, does it? It certainly didn’t matter to passengers of the Dunera. They were simply grateful for the signs of humanity, the gestures of kindness, something normal in an abnormal world.

This Australia

Some of you may be surprised to know that when the Dunera arrived in Australia, I was yet to be born. However, this Australia is recognisable to me; this is our country as I first knew it. Were we different to the rest of the world? And could that be because of our distance from the centre of the conflict? If it were possible to measure fear, in 1940, in different countries, I’m thinking that the fear levels would be very different in London than in our valley. Were we, perhaps, a little naïve — or did we just believe in giving others a fair go? ‘He hasn’t done anything to me, mate.’

There is a small story in this thought-provoking book about a guard on one of the trains. He was bored with standing, holding his gun, and he wanted a smoke — so he handed his weapon to one of the prisoners and took a break. My first thought was that this guard must have been a young lad until I remembered that the battalion looking after the early camps consisted of World War I veterans.

The camps, in our region, eventually housed more than 8000 people — from all over the world — plus the 2700 guards, medical personnel, admin staff and others. And yet, over those years, we appear to have made more friends than enemies; even when the Japanese threatened, and our fear levels rose. Could that be said of other countries?

All of this has kept my mind busy. Does this country remain, fundamentally, the same — or have we changed? I’d love your opinion. Perhaps we could revisit this question together at some point?

Under the clock

Mother’s heroism — August 29, 1910

An act of bravery which ought to be brought before the Humane Society happened near Mr A. McPhee’s house ‘Arcadia’, on Monday the 15th. Three of his children were out at a creek which runs quite close to the house, when one of the boys — a lad of three years — who was showing the others the depth with a wooden stick, overbalanced and fell into the water. The eldest boy ran home to tell his mother, while the other stayed and watched, so as to be able to tell them where he was. The mother came running out, but had the presence of mind to grasp the buggy reins, and tied one end around her waist, while her son and daughter fastened the other end round a sapling. Then she jumped in, telling them to hold on to the reins. They had great work dragging mother and son up the steep bank. When they did get them up, the mother was quite exhausted, and the daughter — a girl of 10 years — got to work on the boy. The mother said to her ‘It’s no use; he’s dead’. The girl replied ‘Mr Bradshaw says you have to work at them for two hours’ and after keeping at him for over an hour, the child showed signs of life; and he is doing well. The head teacher here, Mr Bradshaw, deserves great credit for the way he instructs the children in the first aid to the drowning. The child was in very deep water and was in fully a quarter of an hour before he was pulled out by his mother.

That’s it for this week. I hope your footy team is still in the race. I’m about to attend a meeting, which will be my first outing for five weeks. Please take care everyone; if you hear the word ‘virus’, run!

And may it be easy, my friends

Marnie

Email: towntalk@sheppnews.com.au

Letter: Town Talk. Shepparton News. P.O. Box 204. Shepparton 3631.

Phone: Send a text on 0418 962 507. (Note: text only. I will call you back, if you wish.)