Reginald, Gladys, Maureen, John Carter

Story

Returning to a post-war England on rations, after serving in the Royal Air Force in Burma and India, my father found it difficult to settle. In June 1951 Reg, Glad, Maureen and John Carter sailed for Australia from England on the P&O liner Maloja, arriving in Sydney on 4 July 1951. I was 7 and John 3. We were transferred to the Bathurst Migrant camp but soon moved to a new house in Nangwarry, South Australia, where Dad worked at the Nangwarry Timber Mills.

Life as post-war migrants was challenging. No footpaths or sealed roads, only summer dust and winter mud. Hot water was from a chip heater over the bath. We shared a dry toilet outside with spiders and flies, blissfully unaware of the deadly redback. Dad, a carpenter, made our furniture in evenings and on weekends.

I attended the local primary school. John discovered Australian wildlife – kangaroos and kookaburras. He would often run inside crying, asking Mum why ‘that bird\’ was laughing at him. At Christmas Mum adorned the tree with chocolate decorations, which were melted blobs on the floor by morning.

Dad got a job with the then E&WS Department in Adelaide, which came with a prefabricated house in Camden Park. Driving the laden Citroen jalopy to Adelaide he was greeted by red ants when trying to ‘sleep rough’. We followed by bus.

Dad usually worked on open building sites miles away, sometimes in 40+ degree heat. With no nearby corner shop, if Dad forgot his lunch Mum took it on her bicycle. Roads were narrow strips of potholes or mud.

Later Dad and his mate, Bill Rew, a house painter, worked for themselves doing ‘earthquake repairs\’. Bill had migrated from Bristol with his wife Henrietta, son Rodney and daughter Gillian. We two families eventually obtained brick Housing Trust homes in Morphettville and Mitchell Park respectively.

My parents decided I would be a secretary. I went to Muirden Business College, in King William Street, where I obtained the Intermediate Certificate. I joined the Repatriation Department as a shorthand-typist. John achieved the Leaving Certificate at Marion High School and became a draftsman.

In the mid-fifties Dad started a caravan-manufacturing factory. His team, with Mum making the soft furnishings after work, built 11 caravans a week. In the days of boiling engines in hot summers he twice towed a van to the Sydney Show to find an agent. After succeeding in their business venture the credit squeeze of the late 1950s took its toll and the business closed.

My parents often reminisced about England. In 1962 when I was 18 and John 13, we returned to England on the Chandris Line RHMS Bretagne where we were greeted by the worst winter in ten years. My parents booked a return fare within a fortnight, much to the relief of John and I. John embraced surfing like a true Aussie. A girlfriend and I departed on RHMS Ellinis for England in 1965. I lived and worked in London for four years and traveled extensively throughout Europe during that time, returning to Australia by road through the Khyber Pass.

On their return from England, Dad worked as a house painter and carpenter, often on metal roofs in 40+ degrees. Mum worked in a fruit and vegetable shop, then opened her own shop in Morphettville. One day Dad fell off a roof fracturing the tip of his coccyx, requiring a spine fusion. Following lengthy recuperation, unable to earn a living with his trades, loss of income ensued. Taxi driving and grave digging (much to Mum\’s horror) were unsuccessful due to back and neck pain.

My parents then took on the role of house parents for non-hearing country children at Townsend House, Brighton. After a few years they left Townsend House and moved into their own home. Dad worked at the Metropolitan Tramways Trust. He retired at 65. Then it was time for my parents to enjoy their home and garden and being grandparents to John\’s children, Samantha, Linda and Amy.

Dad\’s hearing deteriorated badly as a result of explosions during war service, causing great discomfort and stress. He developed vascular dementia and died in 2002, aged 84. Mum was diagnosed with Alzheimer\’s shortly after and is now, at 90, happy in care.

As migrants we had a good life in times of full employment. We had the beach, the bush and the BBQ. We are grateful for and enjoy the advantages Australia offers. We feel privileged and proud to call Australia home. However, I wonder about the toll of migration on my father and whether he would have enjoyed better health in his retirement years had we not migrated.

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