Week 44 — Sunday 5th November to Saturday 11th November — Day 7

Remembrance Day

Wollongong 1975 — why this pic? That year?

November 11

11 NOV 2008

The 90th anniversary of the end of the War To End All Wars (sic).

Enough said, really.

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Remembrance Day scraps

Posted on  by Neil

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When I was 10.

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October 1944: see also The real Bluey and Curley: Australian images and idioms in the island campaigns.

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I believe the man in the cockpit of the Kittyhawk on the left is my father in Port Moresby. See Temps perdu–Whitfield’s, not Proust’s–1 — 20th century.

And:

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And to be honest I had forgotten! Only to be reminded when I searched for my November 2018 post!

On Melbourne — stray thoughts

Posted on  by Neil

So sad.

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You probably know what that represents. One positive element has been that amazing homeless man who steered a shopping trolley at the terrorist!

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As for the terrorist, this is what we know so far. Some of the responses from various quarters have been helpful, some almost certainly not: see Australian Imams and Muslim groups say Scott Morrison’s speech following Friday’s Bourke St mall knife attack went too far….

In my own case I am reflecting on experiences from 2005, when I was still working at Sydney Boys High, which I often called “The Mine” at the time. The Melbourne terrorist, we are told, was 30, so in fact he was the same age as the Muslim students I had to do with back in 2005. He was therefore 10 years old or less when he arrived in Australia during John Howard’s Prime Ministership, and almost certainly did not arrive by boat.

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That is a gathering in the Great Hall at Sydney Boys High in 2005. See my posts from 2009: Some non-fiction read recently 2b – the personal component  and Some non-fiction read recently 2c – tentative conclusions.

This goes back to 2005 and a particularly interesting if controversial event. On the day I was not there, as I had to attend a meeting of ESL teachers at Erskineville – or was it Arncliffe, one of the last such meetings for me as I retired the following year. But I did know all the participants at The Mine end, and I posted on it at the time and the following year. See Salt Mine and Islamic Students7.30 Report: The Mine and the IslamistsThe Mine and the Islamists: cause for concern?. On Floating Life Apr 06 ~ Nov 07 there is also a major entry from April 2006….

*The video is no longer accessible, but I have my own copy. More reflections on it:

I am really trying not to sound patronising, because I respect idealism and even cling to some to this day, modified as it might be by experience and knowledge, especially of history.

The young, confronted with a world that all will admit is not the best of all possible worlds, may react with cynicism, apathy, or a deep desire to make a difference. Those who desire to make a difference will soon seek out how to make a difference, and therein is some danger, as well, of course, as much of the hope of the world. Those boys at The Mine, just like their confreres in the rather fundamentalist Christian and Jewish or political activist groups in the school, look for people who offer convincing solutions. Now you have to admit that both those speakers in the 2005 seminar (the video linked from the previous post in this series) are quite excellent public speakers. As a former debating coach I wouldn’t mind having them on my team, and it is no accident that one of the two sixteen year old presenters was indeed a valuable member of his age-group’s debating team, as was the brave young lad in cadet uniform who got up to rebut what he had heard. (The body language going on behind him, if you have seen the video, is interesting; it’s almost as if the presenters wish there was a hook in the wings or a trapdoor under the stage.) That lad, by the way, is now one of my Facebook friends.

… the seminar the previous year directly dealt with the issue of terror. The tactic was definitely not recommended….

My point regarding some of what has been said about Melbourne is to note that there would be those who would see thought crimes in some of what was talked about at SBHS back in 2005 — indeed some did, as you will discover if you diligently follow the links above. However, none of the people involved in those discussions back then have committed acts of terror, though one (Wassim Dourehi) has been accused of radicalism and is almost certainly being monitored.

Looking back, I have no doubt, by the way, that the kinds of views espoused in that 2005 Seminar could lead into very dangerous waters indeed, but on the other hand they have much more in common than many would want to admit with Christian bigots I have heard or read….

Update

Having read the usual suspects in today’s Tele, it seems appropriate to add Curtis Cheng’s son calls for end to political ‘scapegoating’ of Muslims.

Alpha Cheng’s father was shot in cold blood by a 15-year-old Muslim boy, Farhard Jabar, outside the NSW police headquarters in Parramatta in 2015. Two others were jailed for planning the attack and supplying the weapon.

But he said that was no reason to victimise a community.

“I am tired of needing to explain to adults that the actions of these individuals cannot be attributed to an entire group of people. If I, of all people, can think this way, then sure as hell our ‘elected’ representatives can think this way too,” Cheng wrote in an opinion piece in Fairfax Media.

He said if anyone were to believe that all terrorists are Muslim, then “that person could, and should, be me”.

“It would be frighteningly easy – and I choose those words deliberately – to keep indulging this train of thought. It is not that hard, really.

“A Muslim killed my father. His parents were Muslims. He was manipulated by other Muslims. They are related to Muslims. They probably came from a Muslim country. It is all their fault, kick them out, keep them out,” he wrote.

But he said this was the narrative “those who wish to divide us” were trying to push to “victimise and persecute an entire group because of their religious/cultural background”….

At the 11th hour on the 11th month the guns fell silent — not only on the Western Front.

As we all know from what is happening right now….

At the end of World War 1 we were in Palestine — we called it that as that was the name of the Roman province from the 1st to the 4th centuries BCE. Today the name and ancestry are controversial to say the least. Then from the Aussie perspective they were all just Arabs or Syrians. The families who in the 1890s were the foundation of Little Lebanon in Surry Hills were classed as “Syrians” in those days. Before the 1890s, Australian census data listed Lebanese Australians as ‘Turks’. Until the 1954 census they were described as ‘Syrians’. And there were worse names….

We were famous for the great cavalry charge at Beersheba.

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In the Cronulla sand hills!

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The Prizegiving at Wollongong High was a bit tense as the guest of honour — Rex Connor, the local Member of Parliament, was missing. He arrived rather dramatically as we were singing the National Anthem.

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And here I am during World War 2

I was born in 1943 just three days after my Uncle Neil’s 19th birthday — but he was “somewhere up north” as the saying went in those days.  That is why I have his name: just in case he didn’t come back. He was in a rough situation then, not long after the first allied defeat of the Japanese at Milne Bay, the Battle for Australia.

That photo (colourised) is 1945 — me front left, Uncle Neil in RAAF uniform in the back. I am the only person there still living. Lest we forget.

The Last Post (Winds of Change) is a new arrangement of the special ceremonial piece, which holds great significance to everyone who has fought for this country, their families, and for Australian citizens. Developed over two years by First Nations arts company Garrijimanha, the new work is performed by Mark Atkins on didgeridoo and James Morrison on bugle with production by Ricky Bloomfield. ‘The Last Post (Winds of Change)’ represents the unity that existed between First Nation and Australian Diggers on the battlefield, and is a healing acknowledgment to inspire a spirit of unity within communities.

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1943 on my mind — he was only 19!

My Uncle Neil

The Uncle Neil after whom I was named was born on 6 July 1924. In 1943 my mother promised her mother that if I was born close to that date I would be called “Neil” also.

My uncle Roy Christison Junior, my grandmother Ada Christison, and my grandfather Roy Christison Senior in Sydney c. 1943-4.

A different world

Witness this American travelogue made in 1943. Interesting but also at times totally cringeworthy! “White civilisation” indeed….

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A world at war

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On 6th July 1943 my Uncle Neil turned 19

Last year I wrote here:

I posted a number of items on Facebook this time last year, prefacing them thus: “I have at this double birthday time — mine and Uncle Neil’s — a strong urge to share what I know of that time c.1943. Neil Christison left us six years ago. I am still here. Quite a few or my cousins, and younger relatives are here. I guess I want to pass on what I know.

“I trust this is not an ominous sign — but late 70s are late 70s after all. And I hope the relevant people enjoy it.

“That photo (colourised) is 1945 — me front left, Uncle Neil in RAAF uniform in the back. I am the only person there still living. Lest we forget.”

I went on to tell the story of my name.

I was born in 1943 just three days after my Uncle Neil’s 19th birthday — but he was “somewhere up north” as the saying went in those days.  That is why I have his name: just in case he didn’t come back. He was in a rough situation then, not long after the first allied defeat of the Japanese at Milne Bay, the Battle for Australia.

Using Rabaul as their main base, in May 1942 the Japanese sought to threaten and isolate Australia by attempting a direct sea-borne landing at Port Moresby in Papua New Guinea. They were turned back by a combined Australian and American naval force in the Battle of the Coral Sea. This battle was the first naval engagement in history where the opposing fleets, using carrier borne aircraft, were never in direct sight of each other.

In their next attempt to capture Port Moresby, the Japanese made a sea-borne landing at Milne Bay on the eastern tip of Papua New Guinea in August 1942. In a fortnight’s hard fighting, the defending Australian troops, supported by RAAF fighters and American forces, inflicted the war’s first land defeat on the Japanese. During this and other campaigns, the Australians were supplied by ships of the Merchant Marine of several nations, the Dutch providing the largest number.

To assist their move against Port Moresby, the Japanese landed troops on the northern coast of Papua New Guinea and advanced over the Owen Stanley Range along the Kokoda Trail. After eight weeks of fighting (July-August 1942), with heavy casualties on both sides, the Japanese attempt was stopped by the Australians a mere 25 kilometers from Port Moresby. Over the next 18 weeks (to January 1943) the Australians began to drive the Japanese back over the Owen Stanley Range and, in conjunction with increasing American forces, to expel the enemy from their beachheads at Gona and Buna on the north coast of Papua. Throughout the battle over the Owen Stanley Range, the support of Papua New Guinea porters and stretcher-bearers, affectionately known as ‘Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels’, was invaluable.

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Uncle Neil liked Harry James.

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And the years rolled by….

Christisons: My mother’s siblings Uncle Neil, Aunt Beth, and Uncle Roy, taken I would guess in the early 2000s. Aunt Beth passed away in September 2007, Uncle Roy in November 2011, and Uncle Neil in May 2014.

Anzac Day

Some fragments for Anzac Day — in lieu of commentary. For reflection.

THE LANDING By a Man of the Tenth

Come on, lads, have a good, hot supper—there’s business doing.” So spoke No. 10 Platoon Sergeant of the 10th Australian Battalion to his men, lying about in all sorts of odd corners aboard the battleship Prince of Wales, in the first hour of the morning of April 25th, 1915. The ship, or her company, had provided a hot stew of bully beef, and the lads set to and took what proved, alas to many, their last real meal together. They laugh and joke as though picnicking. Then a voice: “Fall in!” comes ringing down the ladderway from the deck above. The boys swing on their heavy equipment, grasp their rifles, silently make their way on deck, and stand in grim black masses. All lights are out….

From The Anzac Book — in my Calibre eBook Library

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My father’s cousin Norman Harold Whitfield of (at the time) Wollongong

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Dad in Port Moresby 1945 — in the cockpit of the broken Kittyhawk on the left,

A photo my father took at Hanuabada near Port Moresby, while serving in the RAAF — 1945

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Me in my Air Force “uniform” 1945

The day has dawned

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And in Shellharbour, my father’s birthplace…

My dad’s birthplace in 1911 and where he and my mum married in 1935. See my photo blog archive.

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Kenneth Ross WHITFIELD (b.1897  d. 1967) m 1920 Esma H. EAST (b. 1895 d. 24 Mar. 1971)

That’s my Uncle Ken, whom I remember well.

In 2023 the start of the Shellharbour Dawn Service is a sign of an Australia that is coming to terms with all its histories — of our wars including those at home, of all our peoples, and of our personal stories. See this symbolised so beautifully here!