My early recollections of ANZAC day centre on the trip to Melbourne.  My father would go to the march assembly point, while my mother would take me up to the road leading to the Shrine.

We would wait until the march came by and listen to the many bands that would play as the men and women marched.  As my father’s unit approached, I would run out and join him to march the last one hundred metres or so, up to the Shrine forecourt.  In those days many of the children marched with their parents for the last section leading up to the Shrine of Remembrance. In later years my father attended the ANZAC Day march in nearby Epping, with a much shorter march and only the returned servicemen and women participating.

I did not serve in the military.  My birth date fell outside the National Service ballot. I did however, have a number of friends and work colleagues who served in Vietnam. I became very disillusioned with the way the majority of the population were influenced by a noisy minority, resulting in the disgraceful treatment of our men and women when they returned from Vietnam. Fortunately, in later years, the rhetoric from this noisy minority has been ignored, and the younger generations are now showing respect for the past and current returned military service personnel.

My father and his two brothers all served during the Second World War.  My mother had a brother and sister who also served. Whilst my mother did not serve in the military, she did work at the munitions factory at Maribyrnong during the war.  Fortunately all returned home safely, but the later years would reveal that whilst they did not have any significant physical scars, they all had mental scars of varying degrees, which for the most part went untreated.

During ANZAC day I like to take some quiet time to sit and reflect on what these service people did for our country. Yes, in many cases they fought battles on distant soils, but the process that they went through ensured that we enjoy the freedoms we have today. I also like to sit and reflect on what the families of the service people who did not return went through. I think about the wives, the mothers and fathers, the grandparents who dreaded the knock on the door from the postman or the telegram boy.

I think about the anguish that the family went through when they realised that there was now a void in their family that will never be refilled. I think about how shattered wives with young children must have been, to learn that their husband had been killed and will possibly be buried in a distant land, away from a family farewell.

I think about the mothers, who in some cases not only lost their husband, but also their sons. I think about the father whose succession plan for the family was snuffed out by the death of his son or daughter in a distant land.

I also think about how the families coped with the issues that the returning ex-service men and women tried to grapple with, largely unassisted. The manner in which these returning people were left largely to their own devices was very disappointing. The impacts will be felt for generations.
​

LEST WE FORGET
​
​Barry O’Connor.
Benalla U3A.
April 2020.

I am not normally a person who ‘makes waves’, however when I see injustice, particularly where volunteers are concerned, I feel the need to expose any wrong doing and correct the processes involved.

Samaria Fire Brigade had a very busy period from 5pm on 15th December, until later on 16th December 2014.
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Later in the evening of 15th December, Samaria tanker was nominated to remain on-scene overnight, at the fourth of the fires already attended that day. We were to work on containment and blacking out. (The terrain at this location was difficult and experienced crew and suitable vehicles were needed to complete the task).  After refilling the tanker with water later that evening, we stopped at the control point to check on progress of the possibility of a replacement crew. At that time we were told that they had been unable to locate any replacement crew from Samaria. I then went back to the tanker and had a discussion with all of the crew, regarding availability to remain and/or the need to return home. At that point two crew members had commitments the following day. Myself and the other two crew, agreed to remain on the tanker overnight.  I took the crew down to the property homestead to get the crew something to eat and await transport for the two crew requiring transfer back to Samaria. It was 2am on 16th December at this point. Following the release of the two crew members, the remaining three Samaria crew went back up to the fire ground to continue to patrol and black-out.

At 3am on 16th December we had located two small logs burning inside the fence and stopped to deal with them. I was at the rear of the tanker when one of the crew rolled past me on the ground at the side of the tanker. I went over to check on him. I asked what had happened and he said that as he stepped down from the tanker rear deck, he missed the hand rail and fell. The crew member was carefully loaded back onto the tanker. From the tanker location, we reversed back down the hill a short distance where we were able to reverse turn the tanker whilst remaining on reasonably smooth ground and avoided rocks etc. We radioed ahead to the control point advising them that we had a suspected broken leg. Upon arrival it was assessed that due to pain levels, it was possibly only a sprain, however we continued to treat it as a possible fracture, despite the fact that the crew member was still able to wiggle his toes and move his foot without increasing the pain.  He was very carefully lifted from the tanker to the back seat of a car for transfer to Benalla Hospital.

Later in the morning, after refilling the tanker with water, the transport car returned just as we approached the control point. The time was around 4.30am on Tuesday 16th December. I went over to the driver and asked about the crew member’s condition. The driver did not wait for the full assessment, but according to Benalla Hospital emergency staff members, he would be kept for observation and released at 10am that morning. From this report I deduced that the staff had also assessed that the injury was possibly a sprain, rather than a fracture.
 
For most of the early morning the crews just monitored the fire ground situation until earthmoving equipment arrived at around 7.30am to make the area safe for crews to enter and extinguish the fire. Just as the area was made safe, a strike team arrived to relieve us. Following a briefing session with the strike team crews, Samaria tanker was released from the scene at 9.00am on Tuesday 16th December. At this point we still had no update on the condition of our crew member.

On arrival back at the station around 10.00am the tanker was refilled with water, cleaned, wet hoses removed and the drinks cooler restocked in anticipation of being deployed during the day. Prior to leaving, we checked again with the hospital, who advised they were still waiting on x-rays.

Both the driver and myself were exhausted after being awake continuously for around 28 hours and operational for almost 17hours of this time. We both headed home to bed. I arrived home at approx. 10.45am to be briefed by my wife following a phone call just received. The X-rays had confirmed that our crew member did have a fractured leg and he would be taken to Wangaratta for an operation to have the leg pinned. The crew member was eventually released from hospital some days later and returned home, but was unable to return to work.

This is when I started to ‘make waves’. The Kennett Government had passed legislation stating that loss of income compensation would not be paid to ‘workers’ over 65 years of age, because at that age they should be on either superannuation, or a pension. Our volunteer was over 70 and had regular seasonal work.

The CFA initially refused to pay ‘loss of income’ compensation. Following consultation with the volunteer representative body, Volunteer Fire Brigades Victoria, I compiled a report, and with a little assistance from a retired County Court Judge, a submission was made to the CFA pointing out that their policies were in breach of at least two Federal Government laws. Compensation was paid, and the CFA amended their policy. They confirmed this to all brigades in written form, in September 2016. Loss of income is now paid to all CFA volunteers, irrespective of their age.
​
Whilst I believe that the Victorian Act has still not been amended, the response from the CFA has set a precedent for all organisations in Victoria with a volunteer component.


Barry O’Connor.
22nd March 2020.

Barry has contributed an article written some time ago under the heading ‘Komatsu Jackets are Multipurpose’ which he and Pamela sent to a former employer for inclusion in their news magazine.
 
Staff members will recall that Pamela O’Connor, former Komatsu Warranty Manager and her husband, Barry a former Southern Region Parts Manager for Komatsu, retired to a property in North East Victoria.  In recent times the weather has been very cold and this represents some real problems when you have cows calving for the first time.
 
The date was the 25th June and very wet and cold in Samaria. At around 5.30pm it was dark, pouring rain and cold, so one of the cows decided to start calving.  She was having trouble, so Barry, true to a parts man’s motto, we deliver anything, anytime, anywhere, stepped in to assist.  
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A heifer calf was delivered in pouring rain and then left to bond with the mother.  
 
Barry returned to the house stepped out of his very wet and muddy clothes and into the shower. Later that evening he went to check on the calf and all appeared well.  At daybreak the next morning, Barry again went to check on the calf.  Given that the calf was a heifer, red head and very tough to have survived the extremely wet and cold night she was named Julia, after our first female Prime Minister who had only been appointed the day before.  
 
The first week went very well and Julia was seen running around the paddock.  A cold snap hit and Julia developed a tummy problem.  She needed supplementary electrolytes to rehydrate her, and she also needed to be kept warm.  Given that the mother was a first timer, Barry was reluctant to confine her to a wet and muddy yard.  
 
What do we do? I t was decided that both Julia and her mother would be better in a small paddock near the house where there were plenty of trees under which they could shelter.  The electrolytes had to be given twice per day in two litres of warm water.  
 
But how do we ensure that the calf stays warm?  Simple, get one waterproof, Thinsulate Komatsu jacket out of the wardrobe.  
 
Mother and daughter are doing well.

This is an unusual story that may cover both of the suggested subjects for August, one being the above and the other an encounter with the supernatural.
 
In 2000 Sydney hosted the Olympic Games.  Both my wife and myself were living and working in Sydney at the time.  During the games security was very tight and there were a number of exclusions zones set up to restrict traffic movement in and around the event sites.  The result of this was that both myself and my wife would have double the commute time to work.  After some discussion we decided to apply for extended leave and to plan a trip around the world.  We would be away for a little over six weeks and travel to North America, Canada, England, Ireland, Germany and South Africa.
 
Just two weeks prior to departure I received a phone call from my brother who had just been to visit an Uncle who was in hospital in Melbourne.  Martin McLoughlin, or Uncle Pat as he was known to all, was an Irishman who had served in the Merchant Marine as an engineer during WW2.  After the war he came to Australia and married my father’s sister.  They were unable to have children, and myself and my brother spent a lot of time with them during school holidays.
 
The content of the conversation that my brother had with Uncle Pat, was that he revealed we had a cousin living in Canada. It transpired that during the war, Uncle Pat had a relationship with a native Canadian women and this liaison had resulted in a son.  I was somewhat flabbergasted as I had never heard of this cousin, despite the fact that Uncle Pat had financially supported him for most of his life.  I received contact details and made some initial phone calls to advise details of our plans whilst in Vancouver.   Our initial advice was that the son, also called Martin Mc Loughlin, was a Professor of Urology at University of British Columbia and was in fact a celebrity in Canada.  He was often promoted as an example of how native Indians could succeed in the world. 
 
In Vancouver we made arrangements to meet for dinner. Upon arrival we introduced ourselves and went to bar for a pre-dinner drink.   I was absolutely astounded by Martin’s actions and speech.  Bearing in mind that he had never met his father, his gestures, certain speech and his mannerisms, were exactly like his father. We sat down for dinner and shortly after Martin left the table to go to the toilet. I explained to his wife that the meeting was freaking me out as Martin was so much like his father in many ways. The next day we said our goodbye’s as we were off on the Rocky Mountaineer train trip.
 
Sometime after our return to Australia, Uncle Pat’s grandson came to Australia to visit him. This was without my brother’s, or my knowledge, and the meeting did not go well, despite us requesting that one of us be present at the meeting.  The grandson left Australia without contacting my brother or myself.  In an ironical twist Uncle Pat died of the disease that his son specialised in.
 
Barry O’Connor.
August 2016.

Definition: counsel; notification. In your formative years you are usually receiving it from your parents, grandparents and older aunts and uncles, and in your later years, giving it.
 
Some of the gems from my mother were “Make sure you have clean underpants on in case you get hit by a bus”! Not worried about her son being killed by a bus, but the impression that the ambulance drivers would gain when they discovered that you had dirty underpants. Experience would suggest that of you were hit by a bus, your underpants would almost certainly be soiled!! 
 
“Take that look off your face. If the wind changes you will stay like that”.  Isn’t this how Botox works today??
 
“Make sure you have a clean handkerchief”. No problem Mum, but the sleeve works just as well!!
 
In my later years I found that I was giving my children and grandchildren the usual fatherly advice, but much of it seemed to fall on deaf ears. Children seem to gain most of their ‘experience’ from social media these days. Unfortunately they seem to accept this without question. Are we creating a world of media manipulated morons?
 
One of my best pieces of advice was received from a customer when I was working in the bank. This person was a prominent solicitor in the suburb of Moonee Ponds. Like the suburb’s most famous Dame, he was a very shrewd businessman. Not only was he much sought after for legal counsel, he was actively involved in asset accrual.  He had amassed a considerable property portfolio and had numerous shares, bonds and deposits. One of his business ventures was with a group of his clients. They were involved in venture capital. This is funding that is provided, at a premium, to inventors and other business ventures that would not normally attract funding from traditional lending sources. Some of the funding was provided on a traditional loan basis and some on a profit sharing basis. His group was very successful and a lot of their funds were lodged with the bank on short term deposits, so they could be deployed at short notice, should an investment opportunity arise.
 
I was looking at restructuring some of his investments one day, and during our discussions, I asked him what advice would he give me as a general principle for successful wealth generation. His advice was “Never owe money on a depreciating asset”. He explained, that not only are you paying interest on your loan, but the asset is depreciating, so you are disadvantaged on both fronts. Owing money on an appreciating asset has the advantage of having the capital gain to offset the interest charge, and in some cases may actually offset the interest charge completely.
 
To this day I have never owed money on motor vehicles, furniture or other depreciating items. I have only ever paid interest on loans connected with property purchase.
 
Barry O’Connor
July 2016

​​The year that made me was 1964.  I had just finished secondary school in 1963 and was looking forward to attending Preston Technical College to undertake a diploma course in either mechanical or aeronautical engineering.  These plans were somewhat shattered, when my father informed me that his building business had hit a slow period and that I would need to get a job. 
 
Well, there was no opportunity to secure an apprenticeship in my chosen field, so I looked for other job opportunities that might be available.  The Commonwealth Bank was hiring staff and at reasonable rates of pay.  (As I later found out, almost all of my former class mates also joined banks or insurance companies).  I was initially assigned to Preston branch.  Preston branch was one of the larger ones in the northern suburbs and at that time was fully mechanised with ledger machines.  My initial duties were fairly basic, usually looking after the rubbish, counting money boxes, ensuring the all of the public space was neat and tidy, and filled with adequate stationary and working pens, as well as general dog’s body duties. 

​I enjoyed my time at Preston and it was not long before I was transferred to East Preston.  This was a small branch with only three staff and a manager.  A major culture shock was encountered at East Preston.  Having learnt the processes with the latest ledger machines, every record at East Preston was hand recorded.   Passbooks, ledger cards and balance sheets were all hand recorded and added.  My training saw me elevated to teller and I enjoyed the interaction with the customers.  I was apparently so good at customer relations, that I was asked to call on some of the older clients who had fallen behind in the mortgage payments.  This was usually done on the way home after work, as I had, by this time purchased a car.  I was subsequently transferred to Preston South which was a similar sized branch but with additional staff, as the branch handled the banking and payroll for a number of large manufacturing and wholesale businesses, including PANCH hospital. 
 
I enjoyed my time at Preston South and somebody obviously saw my ability to adapt to job changes at short notice.  I was transferred to Relieving Staff.  This involved travel to all parts of the state to cover staff shortages due to illness or annual leave.  I was later seconded to Staff Training section where I was again involved in travel all over the state to teach staff the new computer systems.  During this time I married, and the bank transferred me to my nearest branch, Moonee Ponds.  After a period as Lending Officer, I was transferred to Glenroy, where I was promoted to Officer in Charge of Meadow Fair sub-branch at the age of 24. 
 
I would have to say that 1964 was most certainly the year that formed the foundation for my future business and corporate career.
 
Barry O’Connor.
June 2016.
 

The books that I usually cannot put down are publications associated with vintage veteran motor vehicles. I rarely pick up a book and read until finished in one session. There is one exception however. Searching for information about my old school I came across a book published by Moira Scollay entitled ‘Lalor’.  The book was only available from the UNSW bookshop and was duly ordered on-line.

The book was written on the history of the suburb Lalor in the northern suburbs of Melbourne.

My connection with the suburb is that I was born there.  My father and Uncle Frank were the primary builders on the project.  The suburb’s beginnings come from a co-operative established amongst a number of people, mostly returned servicemen, who came together to assist the building of each other’s houses. Reading through the book brought back a flood of childhood memories.  Many, many names jolted my memory as I turned the pages.  I also learnt a lot of facts about the people and the project that my parents had not spoken about.

The building co-operative and the suburb derived their name from Peter Lalor of Eureka Stockade and later Victorian Parliamentary fame. The co-operative  was the brain child of Frank Purcell.

Other names that leapt off the pages: Dr. Harry Jenkins will be a name familiar to most Australians.  The Harry Jenkins that I knew was our local GP. The later Harry Jenkins, his son, was the become the speaker of the house in Federal Parliament.

Les Batten was a friend of my parents and often called on us, or we visited. Known to me as Uncle Les, I had no idea that not only was he associated with hunt clubs, equestrian events and agricultural societies, but was the person who donated the land on which Preston & Northcote Community Hospital was built.

My father Alan Murray ‘Bill’ O’Connor was one of the original builders of Lalor. The Lalor men later became actively involved with the Epping RSL.  My father was the driving force in building new clubrooms, an infant welfare centre and later the Epping Memorial Hall. Feats he never spoke to me about.

Pronunciation is sometimes challenged. From my recollections it was always pronounced ‘La(w)lor’ using the Irish pronunciation. Later residents pronounce it ‘La(y)lor.


Barry O’Connor,
May 2016

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Editor's Note:  Your interest and active involvement in the Swanpool Community Development Association and many other community activities was almost certainly shaped by the childhood memories you have written about here, Barry.  
​

I had always had an interest in motor sport, but always as a spectator. In 1996 I was transferred by my employer to take over a senior executive position in the Sydney head office. I was soon approached to join a local club. The club was the Southern Sporting Car Club based in the southern suburbs of Sydney.

My early involvement was as support crew for other members, however I soon decided to get more involved. I purchased a MK2 Escort four door sedan from a family whose father had decided to hand in his licence.  Whilst it was an older vehicle it was basically sound and did not take a lot of restoration to bring it up to competition standard. The car was very quick and in the early days was still road registered and could be driven to events. In later years modifications meant that it could no longer be registered and it had to be trailered. In one event at Amaroo Park, whilst at full speed, the rear axle broke and inconveniently released one of the rear wheels. The car rolled seven times and was extensively damaged, except for the passenger side rear door, which was unmarked. I escaped with only minor bruising from the harness, but the car was a write-off.

Given that the mechanical components were all still in good working order, the search commenced for a donor shell. A two door shell was located and the process of transferring and restoring the mechanical components commenced. During the rebuild a 5 speed Sierra gearbox was fitted which lifted the top speed from 147kph to around 160kph.  The engine was 2litres which had been modified, however still within standard regulations.​

​I competed in many events including 6 Hour Relay events in NSW in 1998 and 1999 and at Winton in 1998 . I received a number of awards during my amateur racing career. In 1997 I was awarded the Club Encouragement Award and ran second for the Club Circuit Championship. In 1999 I won the Club Circuit Championship and also the Race Series Award. Also in 1999 I won the Driver Performance Award during the Six Hour Relay in Sydney. This award was won from over 240 drivers who competed in this event. The Six Hour Relays are the largest participant events in Australia, even bigger than Bathurst. The Escort is still in the club and on its fourth owner and still winning events and championships.

I branched out into tarmac rally events, but not with the Escort. A Falcon GT replica was located and converted into a very competitive tarmac rally car. We competed in the Indycar Rally in 1998, 1999 and 2000, when the event ceased due to regulations and insurance problems. We were placed in class in two of these events.

​My CAMS driver’s licence lapsed in 2004, but I still hold a CAMS Official’s licence.
 
Not many people would believe that I once swapped my business suit for a race suit on weekends.
 
Barry O’Connor.
April 2016.

Easter is traditionally a time for the clash between Christianity and crass commercialism. For me it brings back memories of days past when Easter was school holiday time. Both of my parents come from good Mallee stock and whilst my Father’s family had long left agricultural pursuits, my Mother’s family were still very much involved.
 
For most school holidays I was taken, or sent, to my uncle’s properties at Banyan, a dot on the road between Woomelang and Berriwillock in north western Victoria.  When I was old enough, I was sent on the train by myself, to be collected at Woomelang by one of my three uncles. The journey commenced at Spencer Street on the Overlander. Upon reaching Ballarat it was a transfer to the Mildura line. This to me was the motor train, however the correct title is a rail motor, or diesel railcar. It was a smaller train which comprised two carriages, one for first class and one for second, with the diesel powered propulsion unit in the middle. It carried up to ninety four passengers and a crew of two.
 
The train stopped at numerous stations to exchange passengers, with one of my favourite stops being St. Arnaud, where the cafeteria would be open to provided refreshments for the arriving and departing passengers.
 
On one trip, following a stop at Birchip, I noticed that I was the only passenger left in Second Class. A short time later the Conductor came down and invited me up to sit with he and the driver, as I was in fact the only passenger on the train. Upgrade to First Class, and a view of the track ahead from the front seat. Upon arrival at Woomelang, my uncle was somewhat surprised to see me seated in First Class.
 
School holidays were always a busy time on the farm and Easter was no exception. Depending on the weather there could be shearing, sowing crops, harvesting the last of the fruit and vegetables from the garden for preserving prior to winter and numerous other jobs. There were the regular chores of collecting the eggs, feeding the chooks and the dogs, and making sure that all had clean water.
 
Sometimes I was assigned tasks such as weed eradication along the channel and dam banks. This was always done by hand with a hoe, as my uncles were very reluctant to use chemicals on the farm, except for animal welfare.  Walking along the channel watching for snakes and weeds, you could often hear the chirping of the Budgerigars in the tree hollows, some just at eye level. There was also the constant screech of the Galahs, signing out the anthem of the Mallee.
 
At holiday end it was back on the train, unfortunately at 2am, to return to Melbourne. I was always given a small gratuity by my uncles in appreciation of my assistance during my stay.
 
Easter, to me a time to worship in natures’ cathedral.