Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

VICTOR PERRY BERTHELSEN SOME FURTHER MEMORIES OF MY LIFE. I left the Prickly Pear Commission in 1940 and came back to Toowoomba. We lived with my mother for a time and then rented a house in Avoca Street. I went out to Kingaroy with my step father, Jack Ford, well boring. I did not like it as it was too boring, long hours and not much money. I returned home. At the time my wife and I decided to try and get a house of our own. We saw an agent about land. He showed us a block on the corner of Ruthven and Long Streets but they wanted a hundred pound for it. As we did not have much money we could no buy it. We eventually bought where we are now at Roberts Street for 25 pound. The seller, Ken Garrett, originally wanted 30 pound for it. We used to come out over the weekends and clean up the rubbish as there were stacks of it. It took a long time to tidy up. When we were out cleaning up Ken's wife, Mary, used to give us smoko hot scones and tea. The agent then arranged with a Building Society to build us a house at the cost of 450 pounds. We paid it off at 10 shillings a week. The Rates were 7 pound a year. When we shifted into the house it was unpainted inside and the floors were bare. It remained this way for a long time. My wife used to do 2 days a week washing and ironing for 3 shillings a day. She used to walk about 2 miles to and from work. One of my neighbours, Joe Armstrong, worked for the Toowoomba City Council. He was third in charge of the water and sewerage gang. He got me relief work on the council cutting and clearing the grass etc. along the water pipe line from Cooby Creek Dam to Toowoomba a distance of approximately 17 miles. When that was finished he got me another job on the council. The oil companies were getting scared about their fuel tanks on account of the war. We had to lay water mains in and around the fuel tanks. This job lasted sometime. My job was a good clean one. I came to work clean and came home clean. Around about this time my brother, Cecil, and I used to do casual work for a chap by the name of, Dave Olive, who had the shop opposite the Empire Theatre. This was Interval time at the movies on Wednesday and Saturday nights. Interval lasted about 20 minutes and we were flat out selling lollies, chocolates, ice creams and soft drinks. It was while I was there working that I heard that the chap who supplied Dave Oliver with soft drinks was looking for a man. His name was, Syd Fagan, from Goggin’s Cordial Factory. I had an interview with him and got the job. He had his brother-in-law, Terry Wilkes with him. I don't mind telling you that between the two of them they made it very hard for me in a strange job. I was like a duck out of water. The more they bored it into me the more determined I got. I think as time went on I showed them a trick or two. It was while I was there that I got my boilers license. Normal starting time was 8 am but I used to start at 7 am and have a steam up when they were ready to start work. I think I can truthfully say that the more you do for bosses the less thanks you get. I worked for Sid Fagan for 17 years. The reason I left him was one afternoon just before knock off time my daughter June who was in the YCW wanted an order delivered to their club rooms that afternoon. Usually when Syd was making drinks he would give you a sample in a measuring glass and ask you to try it. I don't know why but I think everything is planned out for you. I don't know why but on this particular evening I felt like a drink and used a measuring glass. Syd was nearby when I finished my drink. I rinsed the glass and put it on the shelf. He said to me to wash it in caustic soda which I did. I always went to work clean and tidy. His remarks stirred me up. I slept on it over the weekend. I knew I could get a job at McNamara’s Cordial Factory as they were after me for years so on Monday morning when I went to work I gave him a weeks’ notice. He didn't say anything other than that’s okay. Friday afternoon came and he asked me if I had changed my mind. I said no. He rang the Transport Workers Secretary who told him he was a bloody fool. I stayed another two weeks until he got another driver and did not ask him for my long service leave for 18 months. That was the end of my career there in which I did more than my fair share of the work. I was with Syd Fagan when I was conscripted into the army for about 3 ½ years. I entered the Army and obtained my transport license at Grovely. I did my rookie training at Glen Innes and my jungle training at Killarney, Qld, in the Queen Mary Falls area. I took the good with the bad and made the best of it. When we were at Killarney where we were training was one mass of jungle you could not see the sun it was so thick and as the yarn goes you could not open a pocket knife in it. They would bring the food out from Warwick for us in big tin Dixies. WE would have tea at night then dig fox holes to sleep in. We would be all settled down for the night and about 10 pm an order would come through to shift positions and make no noise. The order would have just the opposite effect. We made so much noise it would wake the dead. We nearly drove the officers and instructors mad. After I did my Jungle training I was held at an army centre or holding camp at Warwick. It was while I was there I had 3 months in the Army General Hospital. They put on a Battalion Parade which lasted about 2 hours and I broke down in the knee. While I was in this holding camp they called for volunteers for the 1st Army Prove Company. About six of us fell out and didn't the C O abuse us, but his remarks fell on deaf ears. I reported to the Provo Headquarters at the Toowoomba Showgrounds. I was there for a while and transferred to Ipswich. After a stint there I was sent to Tenterfield. It was winter time and we had to check the trains every morning at 6 am. The frost used to be white on the ground and we were almost frozen stiff. After sometime there I was selected to go to a Provo School at Bacchus Marsh about 30 miles out of Melbourne. Darley was the name of the camp site. During my time at Darley discipline was very strict and as I said before it was in the middle of winter; one minute it was raining next the sun would be out or cloudy or blowing a gale. We had to attend lectures at night with no heating. When I went to bed at night the only thing I did not wear was my boots. I used to go to bed in my service dress and great coat. It was certainly cold there. They called the role at 6 am. It was pitch dark and we used hurricane lanterns. We had to dress as if going on leave. Some mornings it may not have been too cold and we would leave our great coats off. We would receive a bellow get those great coats on. Next morning would be the reverse get them off. All this had to be done at the double. We had very interesting courses such as First Aid, Map Reading, Military Law, Gas Drill and a lot of other subjects. WE had to march to the mess hut for meals, 32 to a table. A pound of butter was converted to 32 pieces as was the bread and a bottle of tomato sauce. The chaps would march in sit down. There would be all mates on one side of the table and the other side would not get much tucker. I stood it for a while then one morning as the ringleader started his act I lost my Irish Paddy and clocked him on the jaw. Afterwards we all had our fair share. I fully expected to be put on the crime sheet, but nothing ever happened. When the school was completed I was transferred to Mareeba for a while then to Rabaul and Jacquinot Bay in Bougainville. Our company did all guard and patrol work around the hospital, wharves, buildings and cemetery. If you were patrolling alone at night it used to get very aerie along the beaches. We had to make contact with other patrols at certain hours. When I went to McNamara’s after working for Syd Fagan, it was a case of jumping from the frying pan into the fire. I did not know there were a couple of extremists working there. But once again the bosses always look after themselves. Nevertheless I always had the habit of give and take. After a while I settled in at McNamara’s. They had a good business and there was never a shortage of hard work. While there I had the key to the factory. Unfortunately this enabled my boss, Miss McNamara, to my sorrow, to call me at any tick of the clock. I remember one Saturday night I was having a bath when I had to dash down to the White Horse Hotel with a tube of gas. My time was never my own. I gave the truck driving away after a number of years and was employed as a presales man and hotel canvasser and we had the run of the majority of hotels. I finally gave the game way when Bell my wife became sick. This ended a career of about 40 years in the soft drink trade. About Berthelsen, Victor Perry
MEMORIES OF VICTOR and Bell BERTHELSEN BY their DAUGHTER JUNE SKELLY.
One of Dad's most frequent and favourite remarks were 'I was reading a piece in the paper the other day'. Even though he was 94 years old he could still read the paper without his glasses. Dad read the paper from cover to cover and what's more could remember everything that was in it. In contrast when I went to ring Dad on a Sunday afternoon I'd ask Des what he had read in the Sunday Mail and he invariably said to me ' I can't remember!'
I always tried to read the paper myself. It was something my boss, Edward William Cleary, a prominent Toowoomba Solicitor, encouraged his staff to do. One morning I was able to tell Mr. Cleary something he had missed in the Chronicle - the death of a well- known Dalby Solicitor. I finally had one up on my boss. Likewise with Dad, if I could tell him something he's missed in the paper I felt I had scored a point. Dad follows politics and current affairs closely. He knows exactly what is going on. In more recent times when he was in Brisbane, he still keeps up with the Toowoomba news through reading the Toowoomba Chronicle, which Kevin sends down to him. Dad has a very high opinion of the Chronicle.. He reckons it is great little paper.
Dad was educated at St Saviour's Convent, St Mary's Christian Brothers and the Charlton State School, not far from Gowrie Junction on the Downs where many Irish people settled, including his mother's Horrigan family. His father was Danish and had no relatives in Australia. His father was a Tailor by profession and in Dad's words - a good one. I never knew him, but looking at the large photo of Niels Anton Peter Berthelsen we have at home in his World War 1 uniform, he is the grandfather I would love to have known. I have no doubt I will meet him in heaven and he will know me and I will know him.
Dad's father fought in World War 1 in France, but when he returned from that terrible conflict he was unable to settle down and cope with everyday life. Nobody realised in those days the terrible trauma these men suffered in the war. These days, with the advent of Radio and TV, I think that people have a better understanding of the horrors of war.
Dad was born in Brisbane, but lived most of his life in Toowoomba except for a period of time between his late teens and early twenties he worked in and around the Moree district of NSW. I'll always remember what he said when they lowered Mum's coffin down into the grave - ' there goes the girl I met by the windmill'. I believe this was at Jim Scott's bore not far from Terry Hi Hi where Dad was carting water for their camp at the time. Mum was one of 13 children of Thomas and Mary Anne Charter, Nee Stewart. Mum and Dad were married at St Francis' Church, in Moree, NSW, on 31st January 1931. That day the mustard seed began to grow as Mum and Dad were united in marriage. It has grown and blossomed in great proportions and will continue to grow long after we all have left this earth.
The Monday after the wedding they returned to Luna Warra Station where Dad was working for the Prickly Pear Destruction Commission. Things were fairly basic. They lived in a tin hut, no stove or furniture except for two camp stretchers and six pine kerosene cases. They cooked on an open fire outside and did the washing in Myall Creek. Dad recalled that sometime after this he met a chap at Biniguy who wanted to sell his T model Ford for 7 pound. Dad said, ' I looked at the 7 pound as it was 700 pound, but finally bought the car.' Dad said it was the best 7 pound he ever spent. Mum and Dad spent the first years of their married life in and around Moree, Pallamallawa, Biniguy, Wubbera and other places with equally colourful names.
Their daughters, myself - June Skelly of Moorooka and Colleen Kimmins of Corinda, were born at Moree. Although born New South Wales women, we are now proud Queenslanders. I couldn't let this day go without reflecting on some of our childhood memories. Many things come to mind, but I remember especially Mum teaching Colleen and I how to pray as toddlers and Dad coming home after being away in the bush with the Prickly Pear Commission. I also recall Dad taking Colleen and I to the local Stock and Station Agent, Hong Yuen, who sold anything and everything. It was a virtual Aladdin's cave for us.
With the Depression continuing, Mum and Dad decided to return to Toowoomba where they hoped Dad would pick up some casual work. At the same time Mum walked miles in hot and freezing weather to earn a few shillings from washing and ironing. Dad bought a block of land in Bruntnell Street, the same street where Kevin's home is today, for the princely sum of 10/- [a dollar in today's language]. They then borrowed 250 pound at 5 interest and built their first home. When Dad got a permanent job again he eventually sold the home to his brother Cecil and Cecil and Eve also made it their first home when they married. The house still stands there today.
Mum and Dad then purchased a block of land off Mr Ken Garrett at 2 Roberts Street for 25 pounds and, after a period in a rented home at Avoca Street, built a house there. They lived quietly there watching with great pride the arrival of grandchildren. They then saw their grandchildren grow up and marry and give them their lovely great-grandchildren. You can see how the mustard seed grew up over the years since their humble marriage and will continue to grow as the years roll by and long after we are gone. Somehow, through good times and bad, Dad and Mum managed to pay for their Roberts Streets home and eventually lived there for 50 years.
In the early 1940's, not long after building their new home at Roberts Street, the Second World War began in Europe and the Pacific and Dad volunteered for the Army, but was knocked back as being medically unfit, but as the conflict to our north worsened he was subsequently called up, like so many others, and passed medically A1. Because he was so tall and a relatively big man he was posted to the Military Police or Provost Corp. Dad saw service in various parts of Australia and finally in Bougainville, New Guinea, where the fight with the Japanese invaders was raging.
Just before Dad was called up he went up to St Saviour's Convent, where Colleen and I were educated, to help dig our air raid shelter. No one would believe us today if I said we used to have air raid drill. I remember Sister Mary Conception, who was as Irish as Paddy's Pigs, saying to me when I misbehaved - how could you be naughty when you had such a wonderful father? Many years later when I became engaged to Des, Sister Mary Conception gave us an afternoon tea at Holy Name Convent and gave her seal of approval of Des - for after all, was he not a nephew of Father Joe Skelly who was then the Administrator of St Patrick's Cathedral?
When Dad went off to war, Mum kept the home fires burning by doing such things as mowing a very large kikuyu lawn and being both Mum and Dad to Colleen and I. I remember Mum saving our sugar coupons in the days of rationing for the St Saviour's Fete and making toffees. When the war finally ended Dad returned home. He soon obtained work as a delivery driver with Goggin’s Cordial Factory owned by Sid Fagan. He remained with them for many years and then just after Des and I married in 1957 left there and began work once again as a delivery driver with McNamara’s Cordial Factory. He became a well-known and well-loved figure amongst the small shops and hotels throughout Toowoomba. Dad was a tremendous and dedicated worker - he always went the extra mile - he gave completely of himself. I am sure he had the work ethic engrained in him from his mother, Gran. Our husbands, Stephen and Des reckon, of course, we are both chips off the old block!
Eventually after the war, Kevin, Stephen and Len arrived on the scene and what a rude awakening that was for Colleen and I. As each of the boys arrived, Dad passed the remark that he wouldn't have minded if they were all girls as he was a bit partial to girls. Having said, that he welcomed his new sons and soon got into the swing of raising three boys - a slightly different scene from raising Colleen and I. Nevertheless we all survived the growing up of the boys and Colleen and I took them with us when we had dates with Stephen and Des. No doubt Stephen very well remembers the first time he came to 2 Roberts street. On Des's first visit he discovered I wasn't home - I had the boys at the pictures. Mum entertained him with George Lovejoy's commentary on the greatest game of all, Rugby League, and a sampling of her delicious cow yard cakes. When Des and I married I also recall Dad showing Des how to light the fire under the outdoor copper of those days. There was a funny episode, which happened with Dad too. Des' car broke down and Dad tied a rope on to it and slowly towed the car down Water Street to the garage near McNamara’s. The only problem was, that unknown to Dad, along the way the towrope broke, but he chugged along at low speed finally arriving at the garage and discovered to his astonishment he had no car behind him.
After 50 eventful years in 2 Roberts Street, Mum and Dad, reluctantly left their beloved home and bought a unit at the Drayton Villas Retirement Village. They could no longer keep up with the meticulous mowing of the big yard and general maintenance required of the home. They made the best of the rather big change of lifestyle and soon got into their new routine. Having already reached the milestone of 50 years of marriage in 1881, Mum and Dad celebrated their 60th Wedding Anniversary in 1991 with a para-liturgy and a champagne breakfast at our home at Moorooka in Brisbane. Unfortunately, their 62nd Wedding Anniversary, in 1993 at Colleen and Stephen's Corinda home, was tinged with sadness. Mum had not been well and had been hospitalised in Toowoomba before being transferred to the Mater Private here in Brisbane. Mum came out of hospital for the celebrations, but, obviously, was very ill. On her return to the Mater her health took a turn for the worse and the lung cancer took her from us not many days after. She died peacefully in the Mater Private on the 4th February with Dad and family around her. It was a big blow for Dad who had shared with her all the ups and downs of a long life together. He had to face the future alone. Dad battled on at the Villas for a number of years and managed to cook for himself and his brother Cecil who also had a unit in the complex.
Finally, with cooking and housework becoming more and more difficult, particularly with his bad leg, Dad made the decision to move on. He decided to move to Brisbane to the RSL Cazna Gardens, Sunnybank Hills, where he was in Hostel accommodation and near to Colleen and I. It was a huge decision for Dad, because he loved Toowoomba where he had spent so much of his life and it was a big wrench for him to leave his brother Cecil who had lived next to him for so long. I have never known two brothers to be as close as were Dad and Cecil. Theirs was a remarkable relationship. Dad soon settled into the routine of Cazna Gardens and filled in his time, as ever, with a close reading of the of the papers and the Toowoomba Chronicle, which Kevin sent down to him from time to time.
I would like to mention here with gratitude those who gave such dedicated and loving pastoral care to Dad over the years. When he was at Drayton Villas, Presentation Sister Conleth was ever welcome at his door with her lovely Irish humour and he looked forward each week to the visit of Josephine Sister Pat Hallam with Holy Communion. Interestingly Sister Patas Sister Dolour Rosa taught both Mary-Ann and Madonna, our daughters, at Mary Immaculate Primary School. The late Father Tom Sweeney and Father Peter Dorfield were faithful pastors at Toowoomba, as was Irish Father Dooley of Acacia Ridge Parish, which services Cazna Gardens.
Unfortunately, some years ago Dad had the misfortune to fall and break his hip. We worried how he would cope in his 90's learning to walk again, but Dad was determined to get back on his feet and persevered with the training at the Rehabilitation Centre at Greenslopes. With the aid of a walker he was soon getting around again and was able to return to his room at Cazna Gardens. Over the years Dad has had countless visits to Greenslopes Hospital, mainly for skin problems as well as his eyes. He always reckoned he must have shares in the hospital he was there so often. In more recent times, his heart began to falter, so after several falls, it was decided that he needed a pacemaker.
Dad has lived a long and fruitful life and was blessed with a marvellous memory. He can take us back to the olden days in a few minutes. Dad is surely the epitome of the good and faithful servant of the bible. He has given wholly of himself to his family, to his work and to his faith. Now, in the words of St Paul, he has fought the good fight. He has run the race. There now remains for him the reward of the eternal home in heaven. I am very proud of my parents.