Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

(an echoing from Norman's voice) Born in Goulburn on the 3rd of June 1925, and for as long as I can remember, I wanted to serve. It wasn’t something anyone pushed me toward. It was just there inside me, a feeling that I should be doing my part.

By sixteen, that feeling had grown into something I couldn’t ignore. The war was everywhere and I felt like I was standing still while the world moved around me, even my brother was serving. I was tall for my age and was confident I could pass for older, so on the 1st of January 1942, I walked into the enlistment office in Sydney and joined the Army.

I didn’t put Mum or Dad down as next of kin. I knew they’d stop me before I even got through the door. Instead, I listed a family friend Percy Andrews. Percy wasn’t thrilled, but he didn’t try to talk me out of it either. That was the kind of friend he was.

For twenty‑eight days, I trained, marched, and tried to blend in with men who had lived more life than I had. But the Army eventually figured out the truth. On the 29th of January, they discharged me for “irregular enlistment.” I wasn’t ashamed. I was just disappointed. I’d tried, and that mattered to me.

Two years later, in August 1944, I finally had the age to match the determination. I enlisted properly in the Royal Australian Air Force, and this time I listed my Dad, (William James), as next of kin.

My brother was already in the Air Force, and well, the Army wouldn’t have me back, which was sad, because I was following my dad. He’d served before me, and stepping into that uniform felt like walking a path he understood. He didn’t say much about it, but I knew he was proud.

My time in the Air Force lasted until August 1945. It wasn’t long, but it was honest service, and I’d earned it the right way.

Still, something in me wasn’t finished.

On the 7th of February 1946, I enlisted again, this time in the Royal Australian Navy. I put Mum, down as next of kin. She worried, of course, but she also knew this was who I was. The Navy suited me in a way the others hadn’t. The sea, the routine, the mateship, the sense of purpose. I served until the 13th of May 1957, more than eleven years that shaped me into the man I became.

Looking back, it might seem like three separate careers:

a boy trying too early, a young man finding his footing, and a sailor who finally found where he belonged. But to me, it was one journey. One long attempt to serve my country in whatever way I could.

I didn’t always get in the first time, and I didn’t always get it right, but I kept showing up. That’s the part of my story that matters most.