Joe knew I would be leaving him when we got to Aramac. It was now
1937. I was handing him over to his daughter Eileen Storch.
Joe White was finally hanging up his riding boots and staying put
in Aramac .
CHAPTER 46
At Aramac we camped on the river. Just over from our camp
there was a man camped on an island with two horses that were
hobbled out on the green grassy knob. His pack saddle and saddle
were in his camp in the middle of the river on the eastern side of
the old road. Although it wasn't raining the river came up over
night and was rising very fast a couple of feet every fifteen
minutes. I said to my Grandfather,
"That man on the Island is going to be washed away." He said
" Yes, take Tiger ride him bareback. He's a good game horse, put
him into the river a quarter mile upstream, and steer him towards
the Island." Before doing so I called to the man on the Island.
" Can you swim?" He yelled a reply " No I can't swim!" So I swam
Tiger downstream to a tree branch on the Island and left Tiger tied
to the branch swimming in the river. I went onto the island and put
a bridle on the horse. Meanwhile the river was still rising fast,
too fast to saddle up. I said to the man " Grab hold of the mane
and hang on whatever you do." I led the horse into the river with
one hand and grabbed Tiger with the other he was still swimming.
The man turned out a woman and she clung to her saddle horse's
mane as we started swimming the horses towards the bank. Her other
horse followed his mate into the raging torrent. The water was
completely over the Island now and several feet deep. It took us
three hundred yards swimming before we escaped from the water.
I led her back to the camp. My Grandfather had put the billy on and
had made curry and rice in the campoven, for supper.
The " Man " I'd rescued was shivering cold, but the old man had a
good Gidgee fire burning hotly, that soon warmed her up.
As she started to dry her shirt shrunk. By her breasts, we could
see she was a woman. I had been using bad language and felt bad
about it, but I wasn't to know she was a lady. We asked her what
her name was and she said, "I'm Ellen Barry from Bollon, the
Bullock Team driver." I asked her where her bullocks were now and
she showed me her hands and said.
"I sold them all," She had twenty big gold wedding ring, bands on
her hands one on every finger and thumb. One for each bullock it's
name inscribed. The nearside leader was "Cocky" and the offside
leader was "Yullow" the pole bullocks "Knobley" and "Chump." So she
wore her bullocks on her fingers in gold displayed. I had no
alternative but to take this woman over to the Police station and
left her in the care of the Sergeants wife. The police officer's
wife said "I'll ring the "Q.C.W.A" to see if they can find her a
position somewhere?"
She eventually got a job as housemaid, making beds at the Marathon
hotel Aramac, on the last occasion that I saw her. Ellen Barry was
a bullocky in a mans profession, as was her father and brother.
These three drove three bullock teams for many years carting wool
in the back country.
What became of the menfolk is a bit of a mystery, both father and
brother disappeared it seems? Years later a Kangaroo Shooter Don
Aims, he found a bullock team setup, no bullocks, but Yokes and
Braces and the chains, hooks and coupling rings, plus the whole
camping outfit, eating utensils, hurricane lights, and the
campoven. Don found it in the scrub on the western side of Mulga
Downs. It may have been the Barry's camp.
After visitiing Toowoomba to see my sick mother and having a look
at the city life. I returned by train to Cubbie Station at
Dirranbandi and found work there.
POISON!
I was coming up from Tamworth,
riding on a tired horse.
Past Barraba we wandered north,
on a slow and dusty course.
Near Barraba I drew short rein,
and paused to watch a sight.
A boy was thrown off again,
a black horse who'd buck and fight.
It's there I made an offer grim,
to the farmer and his son.
Swop you horses and i'll ride him,
with this bastard i'll have fun.
I mounted and he bucked away,
I spurred and drove him on.
I was the winner on the day,
cantered off and I was gone.
He was a black and evil thing,
he wouldn't give me half a chance.
He'd bite and kick like lightning,
surely buck and root and prance.
Saturday morning in Moree,
saw Aunt Mona at the pub.
She said "get a paper for me",
said "I'll get it for you love."
Dirty Shirt Molloy got a paper for me,
for I couldn't leave the horse.
Black Poison rooted like a flea,
reefed his head up, used some force.
An Irish cop he grabbed the reins,
and held them in his hand.
Arrested us we had no brains,
he'd jail us both quite grand.
My spurs they gouged him proper,
the black lurched down the street.
He bucked and kicked the copper,
clean bowled him off his feet.
We galloped for the border,
through a sea of clinging mud.
Coppers chased us in flivver,
to a river choked by flood.
So I dived him in the Gwyder,
off a steep sharp falling bank.
Then we surfaced horse and rider,
wet as shags from nose to flank.
Ride round the coppers came the order,
and bypass all the towns.
Swam the river at the border,
dodged the police we'd lost those clowns.
by D H Johnson.
CHAPTER 47
I was on a trip away from Cubbie visiting some of my relations
in New South Wales. I was riding a creamy horse who was a bit
played out. I had got him off Galloping Jones, the creamy horse had
been in his plant on a cattle drive from the Northern Territory. So
there I was riding north from Tamworth on a slow pony. We arrived
at Barraba and on the outskirts of the town there was a desperate
battle going on. In a plowed paddock there were a man and a boy and
a black horse. The farmer would hold the black while the boy got
back into the saddle.
The horse could buck and the boy tried to stay with him, but the
horse was too good every time. While he was being thrown three more
times. I was comparing mounts mine and his. His would do nicely
though a dangerous buckjumper. I said to the farmer "I can ride him
mate!"
The farmer spoke with scorn in his voice saying,
"I've seen you smart lads before, all mouth that's all!"
"Ok" I offered "I'll put my saddle on the black, and if I can ride
him we will swop horses, hows that suit you?"
The farmer laughed and thought to see some fun. I was to be the
butt of the joke. He shook hands on the deal. So now I saddled the
black. Once on board with my feet firmly in the irons, I said
"let him go mate." The black tested me immediately and we bucked
all over the plowed field for fifteen minutes or so and then he
started to ease up a bit just pigrooting now. The farmer stood
there with his mouth open shaking his head. So I said "See you
later!" Then I cantered him away through the hills towards
Cobbadah. I eventually arrived on a saturday morning in the town of
Moree. The black and I had done battle every so often and he was
still waiting to throw me. I rode up to the Hotel where my Aunt
Mona worked and called out hello to her. She asked me to go down
to the betting shop for a paper for her. Dirty Shirt Molloy came
walking by and I asked him to hold my horse while I got a paper. He
agreed and was about to catch the bridle when the black reared and
struck at him, so he got me a paper instead.
A piece of paper blew across the street and the horse started
bucking again. A crowd gathered to watch the free show and as soon
as the black eased back. A police Sergeant grabbed the reins of my
horse and took them off me. He started to lead me towards the
police station saying in his Irish brogue.
" For riding a horse endangering the public I'm arresting you both
my lad!" I spurred the black horse in the shoulders with my goose
neck spurs and he reared and bucked over the Sergeant, kicking him
as we left. I cantered up to the hotel and threw the paper to my
Aunt Mona, called "Good bye mate" I jumped him into a gallop and
we left Moree in an awfull hurry. I was making heavy going out in
the mud and several police cars gave chase but they had to keep to
the road. At the Gwyder river bridge the police waited for me to
cross, so I jumped the black into the river. It was flood time and
the river was running a banker. We crossed ok, washed downstream
some further distance from the police. They followed my progress in
their old Fords and at Ashliegh they were still after me so I
stayed wide of them out in the mud. So I bypassed all the towns
between me and the Queensland border, Garah, Mungindi, etc. Back in
Queensland again I even bypassed Dirranbandi and went back to
Cubbie station. The oldtimers still talk about the black
buckjumper, his game rider and the Sergeant who tried to arrest
them in Moree town, over a beer at the local pub. My Brother-in-
law to be Bill Brummel wanted the black and offered me twenty
pigsnouts for him. Eventually I said "Yes, but don't drive him in
the sulky! He'll kick it to bits." I returned to the station on
the following monday morning. Bill had harnessed up the black and
put him in sulky and the black had kicked the sulky to bits. There
were pieces of sulky scattered all over the horse paddock at
Cubbie.
So I gave him back the pig snouts for the dangerous black horse.
Many years later, after the war, a cattle drover took him to the
territory and back in his plant. The black was mustered running
with other horses that the drover owned and went. After the trip
that took many months. I met this drover on the stock route. I
looked at his horses and saw the black among them, he stood out.
The others were weary from being ridden hundreds of miles but the
Black was pretty fresh looking. Obviously they couldn't ride him.
I claimed the black and said to them "You couldn't ride him eh!"
They laughed it off saying "You can't ride him either mate!" So I
put my saddle on him and he bucked around the flat, then I rode him
back to town. Charley Brummell my father-in-law to be, said to me
"Don I've never asked you to do anything for me, promise me never
to ride this terrible horse again." So I gave the black his
freedom forever.
When you as the new man arrived on a station to start work,
you got 'tried out' by the old timers or the boss. They'd say,
" Can you ride boy?" It didn't pay to skite or you would get the
worst horses to ride. Bad horses that had been taught to be the
master, by some useless man that couldn't ride a hobby horse.
Horses learn very quickly to use their learned bad habits against
you. When asked I'd say " I've been on horses before." That is all.
The new boy usually saddled and mounted some vicious brute,
generally thought to be unrideable, and got tested as an
equestrian. I had ridden horses with my mother as a baby they were
my play toys. With a set of gooseneck spurs strapped to your high
heeled riding boots. Whenever the horse bucked or fought he got
chastised, and when he came your way he was patted on the neck.
Always this show of softness with these calloused brutes had
brought on more buckjumping, so you rode to win to beat the horse
into submission. So then you might start the days work to the
amazement of the onlookers. These horses that I rode were never
ridden again by other men, for some moorangs had beaten too many
men in the past. Only a very determined rider could stay on some
of these brutes. It was in the blood you see, my mother 'Tuppy' she
rode a circus horse when still a teenager.
This horse was a buckjumper in a tent show and it had never been
ridden bareback in the show's history. The prize offered was five
pounds. Our Tuppy was different she put her bare feet under the
horse's front legs where they joined the horse's body and it
couldn't throw her. She did not get the prize though she'd earned
it. They reneged on paying, the deck was stacked against her, but
she still rode the horse, on the day.
CHAPTER 48
As a boy I used to read the newspapers, of how a man called
Adolph Hitler had in Germany a mighty Army. I would continuously
see in the papers how he developed their Airforce, Naval Fleet, U-
boats and Tanks. Read of how men were being inducted into this huge
Army. Later when wireless came to us, we were to learn more, such
as the Youth Army. How He purged the whole of Germany. During this
purge, it seemed most of the German people backed Hitler's war
machine, and any opposition was interned.
It was very evident to us bushmen that Hitler would finally declare
War, and try to dominate the rest of the world. Although I know
this happened during the worst depression world wide, known to man.
The German Armies were large and strong, and the time was right for
Adolph Hitler to pounce on the rest of the world. While they were
at starvation point and on their knees. While the rest of the world
sat back, the nations that were to become our allies, did nothing
in preparation to meet this awful onslaught. We knew it was coming.
So I state here and now that our politicians and leaders weren't
worth the salt they ate. Otherwise things may have been different.
Perhaps in their weakness, they thought the problem would go away.
After the fall of France and the evacuation of Dunkirk, I joined
the A.I.F.
( Australian Infantry Force ) as a volunteer to be used wherever
they sent me, to fight for King and Country, for freedom of
movement and speech. Some called it Democracy. Some troops called
it Hypocrisy. It amounted to about the same to me and still does
for our privileges have been whittled away by Governments just as
weak.
CHAPTER 49
After joining the Army with the 2/25 Battalion starting as a
recruit in Brisbane at Enoggera. I'm very proud I'm able to say
that I was with a crack Battalion of officers and men. That this
world will never see men like them again. For these men were of my
kind.
I had earlier signed up with the army in Warwick, I had some
trouble escaping from my job but I had resigned and joined the
Army. From Warwick I went to Enoggera. We had been through a full
medical at Warwick. The night I got to Warwick I got drunk a
celebration on joining up. Later six of us ended up in a double
bed. The old darling who owned the Pub. She had two daughters with
her, and she got a few of the army recruits in the lounge for a
party. We had to shout in turn for the others. If you put a pound
note on the plate and ordered drinks all round you should have had
some change. Drinks were five pence or sixpence then, a shilling
the dearest. They had music going, and whatever you put on the
plate you got no change. I noticed no change from any banknote had
returned. They were all getting a bit tipsy by now, bar me. I was
watching what was going on. These two young women were leading on
the men, and ripping them off for their change.
When I walked down the gravel path to the outside toilet.
It was dark and about midnight and I heard a bloke sneaking down
the footpath behind me. So I thought 'Is this is the bludger?'
He'd be waiting behind the corrugated iron wing of the toilet with
a bottle or a lump of wood to rob me.
To give me a tap on the head and rob me and drag me round the back.
So when I came walking out, I walked out crouched down low. As I
cleared the wing, he swung over the top with a beer bottle.
Expecting it, I punched up from his cods to his chin, using a
whistling uppercut. I had laid him out instead.
So I robbed him, emptied his pockets out, he was a bludger. I knew
what to expect, from my time in the Sydney slums, for me I'd seen
the ways of men. He would have been very sore when he woke up, for
I had given him a pounding. This place it seems was a brothel at
the time. When I arrived by train in Brisbane and got to the Camp
at Ennogera, I fell in with a few men peeling spuds and pumpkin.
After we had been cutting up the vegetables. Then the camp doctor
decided to have a short arm parade, to check for venereal disease.
CHAPTER 50
One night while on leave I was making for Anzac square at
almost midnight, to catch a train. Between Queen st and Adeliade
they had a lane, Isle Love and co lane. It was dark in there, while
I was walking through. Suddenly two thugs came at me out of the
shadows, one from the right and one from the left. I uppercutted
one with the right hand hit the other one with the left hand, and
swinging the right again I hit a brick wall. I got them by the
hocks and dragged them out on to the footpath, in front of Anzac
square. The police men those day's weren't lazy, they used to walk
the streets on their rounds.
A police man blew his whistle and came running up, he said, "what
have you got there soldier, what's your name?" I said
"I don't have a name." I shoved the two thugs towards him and said,
" Take them with you, you ought to be happy with that lot." He
said, " Thank you Soldier."
So I strolled to the station and caught the train back to Grovely
and the camp. In about one week later my hand was about three
inches thick, blue, purple and green. The medic sent me to the
general hospital. They put me under anaesthetic using chloroform
and they cut my hand open, tubed it and fixed me up. When I came
out of the chloroform the doctor said "Is there anything else we
can do for you?" I said " yes I'd like a feed." He gave me a chit
for the kitchen so I went down and I ate three fowls. When I came
back he asked, "how did you get on down
there?" I said " pretty good I ate three fowls." He said " You'd be
joking?" I said " no I'm not joking, I was hungry." "Well" he
said, " after that chloroform that you had, most of them would be
spewing their hearts out, for a couple of hours later." "I've got
a strong constitution." I said with a smile, " I'm different I'm a
bushman." I had these two tubes hanging out of my hand draining the
damaged area, the yellow pus was running out of it for about a
week.
CHAPTER 51
In the tent I was in at Grovely, if you had ten bob or a quid
you were pretty lucky. Sometimes you had just five bob or four
shillings to a tent. Sometimes there would be no money in the
pockets it would just disappear. So I got a ten bob note and put
red crosses on both sides. I took it down to the canteen and showed
it to the fellows who worked at the canteen. I said to them,
"I want to know the name of the man who cashes this ten shilling
note!"
A few days later I went down to the canteen and the note was there,
they had his name and description and where he came from. He was
out of our tent. So I went to him I had the note back again. I said
" Here it is, you took it out of my pocket."
I knocked him down and in a short time I was paraded before the
C.O. The C.O. Major Taylor had no ears the Germans had cut them off
in the first world war. He was a little bloke with a bald head, and
a bit of a moustache. He said "You knocked that man out and nearly
killed him with one punch, why did you do it?"
"Well" I said "Sir, I did it because he is a thief, and when he
comes out of hospital if you don't transfer him, I'll transfer him
somewhere myself." He said "Good on you son, you wont have to
transfer him. I'll transfer him to another unit, one that is going
overseas immediately. We'll see how he likes that transfer, he'll
be gone tomorrow." I was ambidextrous and enjoyed a fight and I
became an instructor at bayonet fighting. Most of our instructors
were First World War veterans, mostly over forty and a bit jaded.
I fell in with these old instructors and learned every trick in the
bag. I was good at it and keen to help them out, so I taught
hundreds of new soldiers the art of thrust and parry, and the butt
slap. How to take the rifle off your enemy and to kill him with it.
Part of the job entailed walking men through gas chambers wearing
gas masks. Then stopping inside and getting them to lift the mask
flap long enough to identify the different gases including Mustard
Gas.
So they'd be aware of it from exposure. Because of these regular
tours I developed a bad chest condition. At Redbank and Grovely
Camps I was leading them through every day for months. I was in the
Enoggera hospital twice and I broke out in rashes and other
conditions caused by the gases. I had a final bout with Pneumonia
on the Queen Mary enroute to the Middle East that nearly killed me.
CHAPTER 52
I was in a beer garden in town with a mate we had a dozen
bottles of beer on a table, and my mate he went to the toilet.
He said "You hold the fort." I was sitting in the corner where I
was always told to sit because it was the safest place. A man came
up and used Clarry's glass. The stranger poured himself a full
glass of beer and drank it. He was pouring out the second one, when
I said, "Please help yourself," this sort of stirred him up a bit.
I was sitting behind this round table and he jammed me up in the
corner with it. He reached for a bottler of gin off another table,
that hadn't been opened. Then he held the bottle over the top of my
head and was going to bring it crashing down on me. I was pinned
and couldn't escape.
Being in the corner was alright but being pinned in there by the
table was a different matter. A stranger came walking in, it was
Clarry coming back from the toilet. Clarry was a big tall bloke
about six foot six. He sneaked up behind this bloke and held the
bottle of gin, and when my attacker turned.
Clarry slammed him across the point of his chin and he fell like a
bag of spuds. He was out cold and I said to Clarry "You got back
just in time old mate." He said "It was rather nasty wasn't it." I
said "We'll put him in the corner where I was, he likes grog, other
peoples grog." By this time the beer garden was cleared out and
shortly the fellow Clarry knocked out came round in the corner. I
said to him "You like other peoples grog don't you, well we are
going to give you a few drinks." So we fed him on beer and gin. I
gave him a full glass of gin and said "Slurp that into you. I've
got you in the corner now and there is two of us, drop it down
quick or I'll give the rest of the bottle on the top of your head."
He drank it, so Clarry gave him a couple of beers and we gave him
another glass of gin pretty quick. I told him "Drink it down quick
son or you'll die in the corner."
Within five minutes he was unconscious in the corner, so we finally
left him.
My battalion left Sydney harbour in 1941 aboard the Queen Mary
a fast British passenger ship, bound for the middle east.
We were repoted sunk by the Axis powers but at 30 knots she was
a bit hard to catch napping. This ship was later to bring
thousands of American troops to Britian for the invasion of Europe.
