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War Memorial
Australia

31284 Captain William Sherriff – A Short History

William “Bill” Sherriff joined the Army in 1945 when he turned 18. After recruitment, he was sent to New Guinea. He had volunteered as a photographer for Timor, but, as often happened with postings, the opposite occurred. Instead, he found himself offloaded from a DC-3 “biscuit bomber” aircraft in Lae, New Guinea, in the pouring rain. He had been posted to a War Graves Unit.

Bill became an apprentice undertaker, exhuming bodies in various jungle locations and having them interred in the three permanent cemeteries at Bomana (Papua), Bitapaka (New Britain), and Lae (New Guinea). He also carried out various photographic duties during this time.

After serving with the War Graves Unit, Bill was posted to “special duties” with the War Crimes Unit in Rabaul (New Britain), where he photographed Japanese war criminals, documented death sentences, and recorded the subsequent execution of those sentences.

From Papua New Guinea, he was sent to Japan with the British Commonwealth Occupation Forces (BCOF), where he served as Chief Clerk of the Administration Branch at Occupation Force Headquarters. His clerical position was absorbed into the Royal Australian Army Service Corps (RAASC). Bill remained in Japan for five and a half years, and in 1952 he met and married his Japanese wife, Pat.

Upon returning to Australia, Bill continued his career in the Regular Army, including a lengthy posting to Brigade Headquarters at Puckapunyal. He completed two tours of duty in Vietnam—in 1967 and 1971. The first was with the Australian Task Force at Nui Dat, and the second was with the Logistics Support Group at Vung Tau.

His postings included:
DET 5 ASCO UNIT: 23 Aug 1967 – 26 Feb 1968
DET 2 AFCU: 27 Feb 1968 – 26 Nov 1968
DET 2 AFCU: 12 May 1971 – 23 Dec 1971

Following a year in Darwin, the remainder of Bill’s service was spent in Victoria at HQ Logistics Command as a Staff Officer.

Bill retired from the Regular Army in 1980 after 35 years of service.

Following his retirement, Bill remained an active member of the veteran community, attending reunions and writing extensively about his experiences. He won several prizes for his photography and short stories about his time in the Army.

Bill was also a prolific letter writer and corresponded regularly with several Prime Ministers and Heads of Defence.

I was very fortunate to have been a close friend of Bill’s for 25 years. Bill and my grandfather, John, had worked together in the Australian Canteens Services Organisation during the 1960s and 1970s.

He was a wonderful man, with a love of people and conversation, and he had the rare ability to quietly engage any group with an extensive catalogue of stories from his time in the Army and overseas.
 

John Baker 21 June 2025

“Remembering” by 31284 Captain Bill Sherriff.
 
47 Haldane Road
Niddrie VIC 3042
 
 
Subject title as advised: REMEMBERING
 
 
“It was during World War 2 that a Routine Order on the battalion notice board sought a photographer for Timor, so being game enough to try anything I volunteered, one of the few occasions in my 35-year Army career when the task proved to be far more than just interesting.
 
I produced the required set of photographs for the unit Adjutant the went about my business, eventually forgetting about the job applied for as I had other things to occupy my mind, besides, if you volunteer for anything in the Army you generally miss out, or get the direct opposite; volunteer for Ordnance and you end up in the infantry! It humours the perverse minds of authorities.
 
However my application was accepted, and after cooling my heels for another week or so, I was moved “Priority One” by aircraft, a category usually reserved for traveling brass.
 
After touching down as various airfields in the trusty DC3 “biscuit bomber” I was finally of-loaded, many hours later, in the rain on an airfield by the sea which I assumed to be somewhere in Timor.
 
But alas in was Lae (New Guinea): I had been shanghaied into War Graves!
 
Being duly indoctrinated into the duties applicable to a War Graves Unit by Lt Dave Frame (whose father was the Managing Director of Burns Philp in Port Moresby), I was then airlifted to Rabaul (New Britain) where my first job was to take charge of a party Japanese prisoners-of-war to excavate a cave at a point on the coast in an effort to recover the body of an Australian Army major, thought to be still inside when the area was bombarded by Japanese ships and aircraft. One of the prisoners had been a wool buyer in Sydney before the war and spoke perfect English, so I had an interesting conversation with hm on Japan, a place I knew nothing about. The following day a prisoner had taken the Own sub-machine gun from the Australian guard and shot him, so it was highly recommended to remain alert.
 
 Jobs lie this kept me occupied until I moved to Wewak (New Guinea) to begin full-time photographic duties with the 29 Australian War graves Unit, and also help with the unit newspaper, “Mat Mat Mutter” (Cemetery Speaks), some months later to assist in the lifting of the cemetery on Cape Moem for movement by Army Vessel 2050 and interment in the permanent cemetery at Lae. Of the other permanent cemeteries in the area, one was a short distance from Rabaul, and the other at Bomana near Port Moresby (Papua).
 
By now it was nearly 1947 with the strains of “One Meat Ball” and “Drinking Coca Cola” by the Andrews Sisters being provided by Shirley Dean of Badio Australia who not only played music for the troops overseas, but also mentioned their names when replying letter. She was a very popular announcer.
 
Our camp food consisted of sweet potato, pumpkin, banana and paw paw grown in the unit garden, cases of canned peaches, M&V (meat and vegetables), and corned “bully” beef which could be cooked in many different way, but still retain its flavour. The native boys would catch flying fores and barbecue them on the hot plate of an old IXL stove, but this didn’t attract me too much as a substitute meal.
 
The only decent part we had in Wewak was after Captain Jack Burnett returned from Rabaul with good food, American cigarettes, and twelve cases of Australian beer – eleven from the Carlton Brewery, and one from Richmond. At that time four glasses was just about enough to put us on our ear for w had not touched alcohol in ages. During that evening, the Captain asked me to give the electricity a boost on the 25 KVA I was operating, but I bumped up the cycles too much by mistake and blew ever bulb in the camp. That made me quite popular, but didn’t affect the party as we had plenty of candles foe emergencies such as this!
 
One man who really needed a drink was the Captain who managed to get ringworm on his scrotum. All we had in the way of medicine was full strength iodine, and after applying tis yow oud practically see the skin peeling off as he frantically fanned the area with a towel. I was luck just getting ringworm on the neck.
 
A trip by launch up the swift Sepik River in serac of a pilot who had crashed his aircraft attracted a number of Sepik head-hunters on the April River junction, about 100 miles up, but hey became discouraged when the Owen guns were turned on their outrigger canoes, sinking a couple.
 
The aircraft was located, but not the pilot, and being in a swamp it was assumed the crocodiles had taken him, or even the head-hunters who were partial to human flesh and wouldn’t be too concerned with the nationality.
 
Lifting the cemetery at Cape Moem was not a job for those weak in the stomach, however this task was eventually completed with those not completely decomposed travelling in 44-gallon drums sealed with a black cement-like mixture, and the others in individual sugar bags.
 
While enjoying our last meal in camp, a Police boy came rushing into the unit lines explaining that a young soldier had blown himself up at the Wom jetty, a short distance from Wewak Point. We occasionally went fishing at this jetty using a quarter, sometimes half a stick of gelignite which would stun the fish, giving us time to thread them on a line. A hand grenade would have the same effect, however in both cases it was not wise to be in the water close the explosion because of the shock wave.
 
On one occasion I was busy threading stunned fish on a line relying on two native boys on the jetty with their six foot spears to watch for sharks, when suddenly a Grey Nurse tore the line of fish from my grasp. There were two sharks, not big but plenty big enough, and if anybody could win a prize jumping out of water fifteen feet deep, it would have been me.
 
My so-called protectors had been preoccupied with making cigarettes from black tobacco called “boong twist” and newspaper, so they received a well-deserved ear bashing.
 
At the accident scene we discovered the soldier was from the Security Company and had recently arrived in Wewak. His remains were scattered around the jetty, which was also badly damaged. Preliminary enquiries revealed that the lad had used a pound slab of TNT instead of gelignite, and for some unknown reason thought the short blue fuse had gone out, so he brought it back to the cigarette in his mouth. Death would have been instantaneous, and a violent way for a 20-year old soldier to die.
 
All we could do is collect the remains and wrap them in Army blankets, calling on the local priest from Wirui Mission, Father Saiko, the perform a burial ceremony utilising a recently vacated grave, after which he was loaded onto the vessel in a 44-gallon drum. We had to catch the tide, so time was of the essence, and we had also been warned of an approaching storm.
 
The priest had earlier experienced a thrill, courtesy the Army, when the bomb disposal chaps detonated a 500 pound unexploded bomb we had discovered on the side of the hill close to his mission when hunting large blue butterflies to preserve, using formaldehyde from unit stocks.
 
During the trip to Lae we struck the tail-end of a typhoon, the sea pouring int both ends of the ship, however the ship weathered this with relative ease and we called in to Magnum Island , an active volcano half way to Madang, to buy fresh vegetables from the natives, have a swim, and do some repair work on the supposedly sealed 44-gallon drum containing the young soldier as it was exuding a very nasty smell from the decomposing body.
 
Having survived ringworm, the usual insect bites, a couple of doses of malaria and one of dengue fever, I was in for yet another surprise in Lae. During a morning tea break I was given a “bully beef” sandwich containing a number of yellow atebrin (anti-malaria) tablets, a joke that literally remained a lousy taste in my mouth for some days.
 
One day when painting the native boys’ gums that were badly affected fro chewing too much betel nut, orders were received from Rabaul to search for the body of a Japanese general in a location many miles from Finschhafen, and on this occasion I took unit signwriter Corporal “Tich” Bondy for company. A couple of years later he was crushed to death between the skips in a coal mine in Newcastle.
 
Travelling by Dragon Rapide Aircraft from Lae, we were billeted with the American War Graves Registration Unit in Finschhafen on “North First Street”, and it was there that I tasted ice-cream for the first time since leaving Australia. Not only did the Yanks have ice-cream, but also canned weenies (sausages), canned steak and egg, whole chickens in a can, and Chiclet chewing gum – all the goodies any hungry soldier would enjoy, especially us, for our rations consisted of “bully beef”, M&V, and a few cans of emergency rations thrown in for good measure. The only complaint from the Yanks, apart from wanting to get the hell out of New Guinea, was not having fresh milk. They had to make their ice-cream from milk powder flown in from Manila.
 
Swapping some “bully” (which they enjoyed) for their weenies, we set off with much lighter American carbines, and a few native boys on the long walk, utilising our American hammocks strung between trees for protection from snakes and scorpions when we stayed overnight at local villages.
 
On reaching the search area we discovered the river had changed course, not unlike the Markham which occasionally did so in the wet season, and the map reference appeared to be in the centre of the new stream, nevertheless we dug up the surrounding area for a day or two, and then began our journey back to the American camp after already using up six days.
 
During the walk back our remaining cans of M&V had blown, so we eat rice and python with the boys, they cooking the tree python with mango in banana leaves, and it tasted delicious. Our “bully” had long ago been eaten.
 
Back at “North First Street” the Yanks suggested we go with them to Butawang Creek, also called Paradise Falls, for a swim, and this was great, being free of sea wasps and other nasty creatures normally in the sea at Lae. I still had vivid memories of a banded sea snake for me on the beach at Wewak, and the experience with the sharks, so appreciated a decent pool where I didn’t have to concentrate too much on any nasties!
 
The Yanks were a friendly crowd, but a few months later they moved their cemetery of around twelve thousand bodies back to the United States and that was the last we saw of them.
 
Many interesting things happened in Lae. One day a bunch of us were swimming I the water hole at Malahang and noticed a very attractive blonde European girls on the beach. The only way to meet her was to attend the services at the Lutheran Church, her father being the pastor, but we didn’t get to see her alone because her mother was too strict, or way ahead of us! On another occasion I had a dose of prickly heat, and was processing film in the hot galvanised iron darkroom one evening when the daughter of the Hotel Cecil publican walked in for a chat, but after accidentally brushing against me when looking at the film I was developing, she hurriedly left, probably thinking discretion was the safest bet for that evening. I was processing the film in the nude!
 
Then there was the excitement when a few of the RAAF and Army fellows became involved in a fight on the dance floor of the hotel. It was the services versus the Civilians, and all the women rushed down one end of the hall while the fellows hammered into one another. I can’t even remember what it was over, but we were later banned from the small township area because we were considered disruptive and uncouth by the civil administration people who had filtered back from Australia. Not all the civvies were bad news though!
 
During this time the remaining RAAF the remaining RAAF numbered about ten, and the army at the cemetery about seven. We couldn’t get liquor, but they could get gin, so they would make up a brew consisting of six bottles of gin, six pounds of sugar, and the peel from one orange. It was then buried in the ground in an earthware container for about a week, and was like “sulphuric acid” when uncorked! Another brew we had was to tip half the milk from a coconut  and replace it with Aqua Velva After Shave lotion (for the alcohol), a little sugar and some dried fruit. After a few days it was an equally happy brew, although not as strong.
 
Eventually I returned to Rabaul where my job was photographing Japanese war criminals, in fact a few of my photographs were published in “The Australian” (18 July 81) when they included a story on Lt Hideo Katayama who executed four Australian airmen in August 1944. He was himself executed in Rabaul on 23rd October 1947 by a Military firing squad. Some war criminals were shot, but most were hanged, a dishonourable death for a Japanese soldier. One of the last hanged was Lieutenant‑General Masao Baba at 0800 on 7th August 1947. He was Supreme Commander of the death march from Sandakan to Ranau in May 1945.
 
Films of war criminals and the promulgation of death sentences were processed by the photographer in t unit dark room, however those of hangings and executions were taken away and processed elsewhere, the results no doubt being in the archives somewhere.
 
One form of entertainment away from my unenviable job was playing baseball with the Yanks who would come down from Manus Island to best the Australians, and they invariably did. Or to change pace, I would put on a demonstration colouring enlargements so the troops would see how their photographs could be improved. The native boys were particularly interested in this form of art. An enlargement of one of them who had dyed his hair white with peroxide I painted red, and this sent him into fits of laughter.
 
Towards the end of 1947 at the Bomana War Cemetery, I officially handed over cemeteries in Papua, New Guinea and New Britain to representatives of the Imperial War Graves Commission, and then moved to Japan after some leave. My 5 ½ years in the British Commonwealth Occupation Forces was equally memorable, but more of a gentle nature.
 
The punishment in Japan most feared by the troops if the stepped out of line was being returned to Australia, consequently the majority of servicemen behaved themselves, probably the reason why the Japanese thought the Australians weren’t a bad bunch, and would not eat them after all, as some young girls had been told when the war had finished, and the country was close to becoming occupied by foreigners for the first time in its two thousand year history.
 
But that’s another story…."
 
Written by 31284 Captain William Sherriff in 1980.
 

Victorian Police Motorsports Club (VPMSC).
 
William (Bill) Sherriff.
 
Born: 1927 – Life Member No.8.
Profession: Retired Army Captain.
Cars/ Bikes: Datsun 1600v (268,989 miles) now a Nissan Pulsar with power steering.
Best Results: Presentation of Life Membership in the club which was totally unexpected and a privilege to join such illustrious company.
Most Memorable Moments: Putting Road & Rally stencils into the rubbish bin by mistake and having to start the issue all over again.
 
It was during the Presidency of Arthur Mason in the early 60s that Bill Sherriff was asked if he would assist in the production of “Road & Rally”, the publication for the Victorian Police Motor Sports Club (VPMSC). Having already known Peter “Bridges” Britnell, Bill agreed, and the material was duly delivered to his Army office in St Kilda Road by Paul Burgoyne. Bill became official editor in July 1976, and produced the magazine at home, apart from a year in Darwin and two tours of duty in Vietnam. He retired from the army in 1980.
 
Some of the Niddrie locals thought Bill was a man to avoid, because every month, outside his home was a police motorcycle, a police car or a bus full of police members! One of his many surprises, and a scoop for the Club, was his arrival at the “End of Event” function in 1980, at the airport. He had 100 copies of the latest “Road & Rally” under his arm and calmly announced that the majority of the official results were printed on page 9 of the 20-page issue, two hours after the results had been posted on the notice board at the Travelodge, Tullamarine.
 
Bill’s statement floored everyone, even the advertising manager and all others at the official table. Every month he would return from Mildura (or some other place) to produce the magazine, and every month, to the dismay of his late bride, Pat, it would be spread over most of the lounge room floor.
 
Over the years Bill received many items of appreciation and the first was the Arthur Mason memorial trophy which was presented to him in 1984. He had been invited to become an Associate Member of the VPMSC in 1964 and was made Life Member No. 8 in March 1980.
 
Bill won the Arthur Mason memorial trophy in the first year of its existence, and just to prove it was no fluke, won the trophy twice more in a row – the real ‘trifecta’. After being connected to Road & Rally for so many years, he decided to have a rest after producing his final issue of 64 pages in July 1988, run off his trusty Roneo machine, now lying idle with nowhere to go.
 
Of the numerous letters he received, one was from Bob Degg, Secretary of the Victorian Police Amateur Sports and Welfare Society, which said in part, “The Victorian Police Motor Sports Club has long been recognised as one of the most active, innovative and well-run police clubs. The integral part of achieving such success is an effective means of communication, and this is exactly what you have achieved. If only some of the other clubs would follow example, life would be easier for one and all. God knows where some of your jokes came from Bill, but I think I’ll miss them. Well, most of the time, and I expect you will still find a grapevine to hang them on in the future”.
 
Our Bill sometimes goes under the handle or non-de-plume of “Wilgeosher” and has been know on many occasions to write letters to the editors of various newspapers around the country. Bill’s 15inch manual typewriter is still in use, if his fingers that are pointing in all directions with knuckles of steel and any indication! A read of the Road & Rally excerpts (all picked by “Wilgeosher”) as typed by him on the trusty 15inch carriage typewriter is well worth the time. Bill’s sense of humour is the only dry thing about him, as those that know him well will testify. To illustrate our point, unbeknown to young Bill (he is closer to 100 than he is to 50) we photographed his typical midday meal. He puts Paul Hogan to shame, only because Paul talks in the singular, “throw another shrimp on the barbie”. Without comment, we will allow you to see a picture of Bill’s typical feast.
 
Another little-known fact about our Bill is he is an honorary Captain in the “Carabinieri”, which is the Italian equivalent of the FBI in the United States. On an annual basis, the President of the Carabinieri, (whoever he might be) visits Australia for the various state divisions’ annual dinners. Our former CCP, Sinclair Imrie (Mick) Miller, is the patron of the Victorian Branch, and as you would expect of our Bill, a picture tells a thousand stories.
 
Bill’s favourite joke:
 
“An elderly man consulted his physician and said he was deeply troubled. “What’s your problem?” asked the doctor.
 
“Well doc, after the first I’m very tired. After the second, I feel all in. After the third, my heart begins to pound. After the fourth, I break out in a cold sweat, and after the fifth, I’m so exhausted I feel I could die!”
 
Utterly amazed, the doctor looks at him and asks, “how old are you?”
 
“Seventy-six” the old man replies.
 
“Well, at seventy-six don’t you think you should stop at the first?”
 
“But doc, how can I stop after the first; I live on the fifth.”
 
 
 

William George Sherriff’s Marriage to Chizu Patricia Katayama

Warrant Officer Class 2 Bill Sherriff met his wife, Chizu, when she was working as an interpreter at the British Commonwealth Occupation Force Headquarters, where he served as Chief Clerk.

They were married on 7 October 1952 in Japan.

When Australian soldiers began marrying Japanese women during the occupation, it caused considerable concern within the Australian Army and among politicians. This led the Australian Government to develop a detailed policy on the matter.

By 27 March 1952, the Australian Government had authorised the admission of Japanese wives of Australian servicemen and ex-servicemen into Australia, provided they were approved by the Australian Embassy in Japan.
The Kure Municipal Police screened all women to ensure they were not:
·       communists
·       prostitutes
·       holders of a criminal record
·       from a family with signs of hereditary insanity

In addition, they were required to undergo a thorough medical examination, including a full x-ray and blood test. If tuberculosis or any other serious illness was detected, entry was denied until the woman was deemed completely fit.

These examinations and investigations were more stringent than those required for any other migrants.

The average age of the wives was 22. Only 49 of the 150 couples had, or were expecting, children. In 22 of the 150 cases, both of the bride’s parents were deceased. Of the remainder, only 14 sets of parents objected to the marriage. In just one case did the Japanese police request non-approval of a marriage, due to strong parental opposition.

"Whether Australia should ban the admission of Japanese wives is a matter for eventual discussion, but until that decision is made, those wives who do come to Australia — lawfully and at the invitation of their Australian husbands — should be treated decently, with a special effort on the part of returned men to make them feel comfortable. If only to offset the inevitable hostility from that small section of the community who, in addition to not having travelled beyond their own shores, have a way of attacking any person who does not conform to their own pattern and way of life."
— Adapted from Returned Services League, Mufti, December 1952