Perhaps it was inevitable given the fact I was born during World War II, the child of a serving RAAF ground crew member and the nephew of a very young signalman in the RAAF who served in some of the war’s worst actions in the New Guinea campaign, after whom I was named. Flying and aircraft did tend to be mentioned. That little boy in 1945 in the side bar now over sixty years later recalls the sight of RAAF uniforms, and the planes that sometimes appeared in the sky over Auburn Street Sutherland. As for the uniforms: I apparently addressed anyone wearing one as “Daddy”, which I am told led to at least one embarrassing moment for a young RAAF man in the city in the company of a young woman.
My father worked on these in Port Moresby: