To the Green Fields of Kastina

To the Green Fields of Kastina

TABLE OF CONTENTS Dedication i Foreword ii Introduction iii 1914 – 1930 1 Pre-War Years 1931 – 1939 6 The War Years 1939 22 1940 32 1941 53 1942 82 1943 113 1944 142 1945 161 The Post War Years 1946 – 1950 177 Kastina 1951 – 1983 192 Epilogue – 1997 212 Afterword (Written in 1997), Family Tree and Family Photos 217 Dedication I dedicate this book, first and foremost, to the loving memory of my beautiful wife, Win To my four sons and daughter and their families To my great mates of 6 Div. Cav. and 2/10 Cmd. Sqn., in particular No 3 Troop, No 5 Troop and Pioneer Section Osie Stafford i Foreword As far as I knew, my father never enjoyed writing very much. As a child and young adult, I always remember my mother taking care of all the family correspondence. So it was to my great surprise that, when I asked my father, at the age of 75, to jot down his memories and experiences of World War 2, he actually began to record and write in detail. And not only of his war years! But also of his childhood farm days during the early 1900's; of his life as a soldier settler and farmer and a dedicated, respected and loving family man. Within these covers lies the end result of his many hours of hard work and memory searching - some painful and most inspirational. This is a true story written with love, compassion and honesty. It dates from an era of strong patriotism and belief in the duty to serve and protect one's country and loved ones; through war years filled with hardship and battles, with heartache and loss; to a period of pride, achievement, comradeship and everlasting friendships. This story is written from life as a returned serviceman who toiled and dedicated himself to the task of settling, creating and managing his own masterpiece - a farm which would support his wife and family over many years. The motto of my father's regiment reads - "Through the mud and blood to the green fields beyond", so it seems appropriate that in reading "To the Green Fields of Kastina", we not only gain an insight into one man's life, but we gain a richer and more personal understanding of what it was really like for Australian families during the first three quarters of this century. We can also see from where many of our great Australian values and qualities originate and we can be proud of our past heritage and culture. For all of this, and for the standards and values you have passed on to our family, I thank you Dad, for a most truly precious gift which I shall always treasure. Susan McLaughlin ii Introduction `To the Green Fields of Kastina‟ is the story of my life. In 1989, six years after the death of my darling wife, Winifred, my daughter, Susan, suggested that I might fill the many empty moments and lonely hours writing an account of my life. She asked me to record those special highlights (those moments that your memory allows you to recall) and to bring to life a small diary I had kept during my service in the army during the war years (1939 - 1945). The war events and memories contained in this diary had been laid to rest on my return home from the war and were certainly never considered appropriate conversation to share with one's children. Is it any wonder they became more curious as they got older? Now seems an appropriate time to answer many of their unanswered questions and allow them to know a part of their father's life, previously unspoken. The greater part of this book details the events and memories of the years I spent in the army with the 6th Division Cavalry and the 2/10 Commando Squadron from 3rd November 1939 to 23rd June 1945. But the story would be incomplete without briefly telling you about my boyhood years and those wonderful years after the war when Win and I set out, with such humble beginnings, to start a life together farming in the Western Districts of Victoria. Here we prospered both financially and personally as we built our first home together, developed a most productive farm and raised five healthy, strong children. When I joined the 2nd Australian Imperial Forces, after eight years with the 20th Light Horse Regiment, I did so with the firm conviction it was my duty to do so. I was always patriotic to my King and my Country. A madman by the name of Hitler was trying to conquer the world. He had to be stopped. I am sure that most of the young men who joined with me had this same view. Undoubtably, some were there for the adventure of a lifetime, not considering the possible outcomes - invincible in their own eyes. They came from all walks of life, handsome young men with a common purpose. Nowhere would you have seen such a fine body of men. Most were from the country and the Light Horse Regiments, and so the Cavalry Regiment was formed as a Mechanised Reconnaissance Regiment for the 6th Division. While we may not have had it quite as tough as some of the Infantry Battalions, our Regiment did its share and earnt itself a reputation second to none. I was very proud to have served in this great Regiment. We had our tough times and easy ones and also some monotonous ones. We lost some good mates. However, through it all a great bond of mateship developed. This bond of mateship has been carried on down the years when we meet at Reunions and on Anzac Day. This is not a time to dwell on what was or what might have been. It is a time you pay homage to those who did not return with us, to support those men and families who are still suffering physically and mentally from the war, and to be touched just a little more by that bond of mateship that became such a precious commodity in a war that offered very few bonuses. This book is not intended to be an historical account of the War Years. It is my own personal account of events and how they affected me. Much is forgotten, but one thing stands out loud and clear, the love and support of one's family. Mail day during the war was always a happy day that brought stories and messages from home and, though we could be many thousands of miles away, we knew we were never alone or far from the thoughts of those who loved us. iii I was lucky to be born into a strong, loving family. My father and mother had a strong Christian out-look on life. They taught me at all times to be thoroughly honest in everything I did. Their love and support was always there for me, my brother and three sisters, throughout our lives. And I was lucky again to join another fine family, when I married Win, in the Stephens family. The love and support of a strong family is a wonderful thing to have and can never be underestimated especially at a time of war. And now, in the eventide of my life, I have the love and support of my children and their fine families. I thank God for the good life I have lived and the wonderful family Win and I reared together. I hope my children and their families will enjoy reading this book in the years ahead. The most wonderful thing in the world Is to have and to hold, The love of a strong family For all the days of one's life. Osie Stafford iv 1914-1930 I was born in Clarence Street, Elsternwick, Melbourne on November 4th 1914. I was the fourth child of Hugh Erwin Stafford and Gracing Emily (nee Worcester). My great grandfather Worcester was born in England in 1810, his wife was also born in England. He and his wife and two small daughters immigrated to Australia on the ship "Westminster", arriving in Melbourne on December 13th, 1839. He was a house decorator and set up a paint store on the site of the present Southern Cross Hotel in Bourke Street. Three sons and a daughter were born in Melbourne. One of these sons was George Worcester, my grandfather, born in 1845. He died in 1929. I remember him when I was a teenager. My grandfather Stafford (Tom) was born in Northern Ireland and his wife in Scotland. I was baptised in St. Catherine's Church of England, Caulfield on February 15th, 1915. My sister Elsie on June 2nd, 1907, my sister Marjorie on February 14th, 1909, and my brother Erwin on October 2nd 1910, and my sister Ruth was born on October 10th, 1918. When I was about four, the family moved to Oakleigh. At the age of five I attended the Clayton State School. Oakleigh and Clayton in these years were on the outer fringe of Melbourne. It was nearly all farming land; orchards or market gardens. My father was a carpenter by trade. He taught at the Deaf and Dumb Institute two days a week, teaching the boys carpentry. My father and mother were keen to get out into the country. When I was six they bought a small ten acre farm between Dandenong and Hallam where they milked some cows. My father continued with his carpentry and I attended the Hallam State School.

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