Grant Armstrong

Story

My father; a ships engineer; arrived in British Ceylon in the middle of World War II after his ship was sunk in the Mediterranean by a German U Boat. Dad was scheduled to be sent to the UK to pick up another ship but swapped places with a married deck officer whose family had been injured in the London bombings. Dad was eventually sent on to India and then to British Ceylon, where he met my mother; a Scots/Irish girl, whose parents were stationed in British Ceylon at this time. The family remained in British Ceylon on Temporary Resident Permit (being extended every 6 months) until the advent of Solomon Bandaraniake; elected as Prime Minister in 1956, who decided to change the national language from English to Singalese. At this time, the buddhist Singalese majority were very hostile and aggressive toward anyone with white skin; abuse was frequent not only toward westerners but also toward the descendants of Europeans in the country which was now known as Ceylon. The situation was no different to what occurred and still occurs in Rhodesia (Zimbabwe). My father decided that it was time to leave this country which was wracked with internal turmoil; yes this started to occur way back then as well, as not only were the Singalese people hostile toward Europeans and their descendants but also toward the Tamil people with whom they were constantly at odds – frequent riots and curfews. This time my dad decided to leave an increasingly violent society and rather than go back to the UK; he opted to migrate to Australia. Finally on 12 April, 1961 we boarded the P & O and Orient Line ship RMS “ORONSAY” to commence our journey for what was the best 10 days of my life.

The journey for a young boy of 14 years was awesome. I was now back among my own British people who not only spoke the same language as I did but treated me no differently. No more taunts and abuse about white skin or blue eyes; everyone was treated equally. Many new friendships were made and that still lasts to this very day.

We arrived at Fremantle in the early hours of the morning, and my first view of my new country was the row upon row of cranes that lined the shore. A few hours later, immigration officers arrived on board with medical teams, for our final checks before landing. Later that morning, the family left the ship for a tour of Perth, and my first impression was ‘how beautiful and peaceful’. Four days later, the ship arrived at Station Pier Melbourne on what was a wet cold Sunday morning. We were met by my grandparents who had preceded us to Australia. Dad and I caught an “old red rattler” from Port Melbourne Station to Flinders Street, where we waited over an hour for a train to Bonbeach, which we were to call home for the next 15 years.

In the interim; after a brief stint at Bonbeach High School, at the ripe “old age” of 15, I decided to enlist in the Army as I wished to serve my new country. I lied about my age; back dating my date of birth two years to meet the minimum age of 17 years. I served until 1969. The journey to my new country has been indelibly etched in my mind. Today; 49 years after what was to be a life changing experience for me, I feel totally Australian. My loyalties are to Australia and to the Sovereign to whom I swore an Oath of Allegiance upon joining the armed services. God Bless Australia

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