​​     In 1953 I became a telephone lineman with the Victorian Railways, which has its own telephone lines.  When I first joined, we were in the process of erecting a new pole line from Dandenong to Traralgon.  We moved quite often in our eating and sleeping mobile accommodation, old butter trucks converted into what became known as ‘Bug Huts’.
 
     To get to our work site we travelled in what was known as ‘Casey’.  To give it its correct title, it was a ‘Casey Jones’ motorised gangers trolley, called after a Railway Hero in the USA.  A rough description of a ‘Casey’ or Kasey 'K' Model gangers trolley – it was a 4 wheeled, belt driven and water-cooled motorised trolley which we generally pushed to start.  It had a wooden frame over the motor where the five gang members sat.  On either side were wooden platforms where our ladders, tools, tucker bags and feet rested.

     The ‘Casey’ trolleys were made at Spotswood Workshops.  We shared the track with trains and usually had an idea of where they were.  At this time the railway was changing from Steam to Diesel, and we would take our motor off track to let a train go by. 
 
     Our boss at the time was a bit of a lout.  He would wait until he saw the smoke, but the Diesel trains didn’t smoke! 
 
     One day we were camped at Pakenham and wished to motor to our worksite at Tynong which was two stations away.  The normal practice was to follow the morning passenger train, but this morning he directed one of the gang members to hold on to the rear of the train and we zoomed off.  The little wheels on the motor were really fizzing!  We got to Nar Nar Goon, drifting in behind the train.  A lecture from the train’s guard was to no avail, as we hung on to Tynong, our work site.  I should imagine we were doing at least 80 kmh.
 
     On another occasion, it was near knock off time and we wanted to go from Hernes Oak to Moe.  Our boss, a big Polish bloke, was ringing the Moe signal box on the trackside phone and, getting no answer, was getting wilder by the minute.  So, we put our motor on the tracks and headed to Moe.  This area is called the Haunted Hills.  It has lots of curves and rock faces.  The afternoon train was coming towards us. It was already late, almost into Moe.  Fortunately, it was a steam train, we saw the smoke and got our motor off the track.
 
When I left the gangs, I became a Section Lineman and had to maintain the lines and attend faults.  We had 2-man motors driven by a Villiers motor.  These had an outrigger, a box to put our tools and room for a ladder.
 
One nice sunny day we got to a location called ‘The Fig Trees’, between Barnawartha and Wodonga.  We rang the signal box at Wodonga, were told there was nothing around, so headed to Wodonga.   Almost there, I looked over my shoulder to see a train following us!  We scrambled the motor off the track and the train went past.  We went to see the signalman, who said “You didn’t have to take your motor off as the signal wasn’t off”.  He added, “I forgot about that train”.
 
Quite often we would be waiting at a crossing for a passenger train to go past.  They travelled at 130 kmh.  Think to yourself, what would happen if that hit you?
 
I don’t know how I survived, really!
 
 
Max Tilbury
October 2024

There's a Ganger Rail Trolleys of Australia Facebook Page...

In February 2008 there were extreme bushfires over many areas of Victoria.  In these fires, 209 people lost their lives.  The closest fire to us was at Beechworth, where two people died.

Soon after these fires, two members of the Benalla Uniting Church formed a bushfire fencing team to which I volunteered.  These two people were Allan Stafford and Don Gill.  They needed a tractor, leasing one from Koneig's of Shepparton at a reasonable rate; got donations and had equipment to erect fences.

Allan and Don first went to Kilmore to work with Blaze Aid, but found the place over run with volunteers, so went out on their own.  They never had a depot as such, so would leave their gear at the farm they were fencing.  A rough idea of where they operated was on the Midland Highway from Taggerty; Buxton towards Healesville, the back road to Marysville and other areas.

When they first started, the owners of some of the farms they worked on had lost friends and relatives in the fire.  When they arrived at one farm, one chap was sad and withdrawn.  They tried to cheer him up, with limited success, so got on with erecting his boundary fence.  When he saw what they had done his attitude changed, and was probably the start of his recovery.

A lady who lived near the Midland Highway came back to find the only sign that there had been a home and shed was her dog's kennel.  The dog was with her in a safe area.  In this area the heat must have been severe as trees had exploded.

How did the bush fire fencers operate?  Before the fencers could start, the materials had to be purchased and collected from a stock and land agents.  Volunteers from local groups such as sporting teams and schools would clear the old fences from the fence line.  The land owner would specify the type of fence they wanted.

The volunteers were great.  I worked with a lot from our local area and a group from the Goulburn Valley, who did any welding and cutting needed.  One of these worked at Bunnings and used to bring us small gifts.  One day we were in a shed having our lunch. It was too wet to work and one bloke had a loose rope around his neck, prompting the subject "If I was a dog, what sort of dog would I be?"  Big Al asked what he would be, and was jokingly told "A mongrel"!

A lot of volunteers spent a lot of time a lot of time doing a lot of good fencing, sometimes living with the person they were fencing for.  I used to travelover for the day with a good friend, Mal MacDonald.  On my 13th trip we met Allan, who had stayed overnight.  He had a bad cold which I caught and I took ill.  After six weeks I was diagnosed with an infection in the heart. 

Mal had many more trips however, and Allan was seldom home.  They attended many properties after the fires had been through - from the Goorambat area to the Western District.  Their last fire was in the Cudgewa Corryong area, where they were short on volunteers.

The last couple of years have been fire free.  If there is a fire, they will probably be there to erect the fences.  

Max Tilbury
September 2024

​'Community'   'Causes'

In the mid 1930's my parents made good friends of three families - the Gallenti's, the Southwell's and the Law's.  It was the time of the depression, also the big flood of 1934. 

​Over time these families moved, while we went to Longwarry to be nearer Mum's family.

The first of these family friends were Jim and Jean Gallenti, who had a later connection to us with son Des living in Benalla.  His younger brother Vince played footy with Benalla until he had a bad accident and died sometime after.

The Gallenti family moved to Emerald and grew potatoes in a property above the Emerald Lake, only separated by the Puffing Billy rail line.  I was lucky to see the original train with goods trucks up the front and at back, passenger carriages in the middle, many with passengers hanging their legs out.

The Gallenti's were great hosts.  At Sunday lunch there might be up to 20 people, including local Italian friends.  The usual way way we got there was by train to Dandenong, where they picked us up.  One time, when it was time for us to go home, it was suggested we could get a ride to the Nar Nar Goon Railway Station and catch a train from there.  A friend of our hosts was taking a truck of potatoes to Nar Nar Goon.  Mum and sister Rita sat in the Cabin while my elder brother Sid and I sat on top of the load.  We had a nervous trip on narrow winding road, worrying that low tree branches might knock us off the load, then had to wait forever for a train.

It was decided that son their Des would visit us, so his father took him to catch the train at Dandenong for Longwarry.  A strange thing happened.  It was Dandenong market day, where the Gallenti's bought all the goodies for their Sunday lunch.  Somehow or other the cases got mixed up.  Des had no spare clothes and we had a ball.

During the war we visited friends living at Kinglake West, Jessie and Win Southwell.  Before the war the Southwell's grew flowers to sell at the Victoria Market, mainly Gladys.  There were still some remnants of these.  With the war effort they grew vegetables and with the labour shortages at the time used the Italian prisoners of war from their nearby camp.  These prisoners had very few restrictions and wandered around at free will, unsupervised, the main restriction was that they had to be back at their camp at Sundown.  They wore a soldiers uniform dyed a deep purple.  After the war a lot of these Italian prisoners of war came back, sponsored by the local farmers they had worked for.

The third family was called Law.  The mother was a little old lady we called Nanna.  Her four big sons were great fun.  They lived at Rythdale out from Pakenham.  There were only two houses, one of which included the Post Office.  The other feature was their football club ground - the dressing area was a clump of ti trees.  They played in the West Gippsland League.  On 'away' games they were always late getting there, so the game often finished in the dark..  Their best quarter was the last - this was put down to them growing carrots.

One time we went to see our friends on their football truck.  They sang and and talked all the way home.  Many years later we received a visit from a couple of the Law brothers and the ex-policeman from Koo Wee Rup days, Bob Mills, in his T Model Ford.  

They were budget holidays.  I doubt if any mother was offered or accepted, perhaps the visitor might buy some groceries.  

They were good days.


Max Tilbury
August 2024

​‘The Treasures of Dad’s Kit Bags’

In 1942 my dad, Arthur John Tilbury, joined the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF).  This is not remarkable in itself, but he had a wife and three children aged 11, 9 and me, aged 7, and was 37 when he joined.

After doing his initial training and being camped at both Caulfield Racecourse and the Melbourne Cricket Ground, he was sent to Townsville.  From here he was sent to New Guinea where he was attached to an American Airfield Construction Unit.  I don’t know if he worked on the actual Airfields, which the Americans called strips.

His position was more of a camp orderly.  His assistants were the local natives. He was very friendly and often spoke about one of his native assistants.  Their main task was to stop the jungle from taking over the camps.

The first time he came home he hitched a ride home on a Dutch plane to Brisbane, arriving in the middle of the night.  Among the treasures in his kit bag were mother of pearl shells, small shell bracelets, native grass skirts, heavy hair combs made of wood, Japanese sniper boots and a Jap mortar shell that had been disarmed, which we used as a door stop.

Other things were chewing gum, tropical chocolate which melted at a higher temperature.  We looked forward to the tins of peanuts (we saw), but these turned out to be tins of 50 cigarettes. 

He had plenty of cigarettes when he came home at the end of the war, a kitbag full, soon half the town was smoking American cigarettes.  He also had Japanese cigarettes and the wax matches needed to light them as the heads fell off ordinary matches.  Cigarettes were rationed at this time and almost impossible to get.

Dad returned to Australia for an operation on a crook knee.  He went back for another tour and was there when the war ended.   The military over ran the enemy and the strip reconstruction unit followed behind, sometimes picking up a straggler.

Dad would send Mum letters which were sometimes mutilated by the censor, Dad divulging sensitive information.  His unit was always on the move.   Places we got letters from included Madang, Lae, Aitape, Finchaven, Wewak, Goodenough Island, Rabaul, and there were others.

When the war ended and the troops were waiting to get home, they had plenty of time to play cards.  I don’t know how good a card player my father was, but he must have been better than the Americans as brought home several watches that didn’t work long account of rusting out, signet rings made using aluminium and material from windscreens from crashed planes, His second tour to the Islands, as they were commonly called, was 20 months.

Getting back to the treasures he brought home, he had two kit bags, one entirely full of American cigarettes, the other containing his clothes, everything marked with his number, 56884.  He had Japanese post cards generally showing cherry blossoms, Japanese money, and “invasion money” intended for use for when they invaded Australia.

The Americans gave their troops post cards of scantily dressed girls, sexy for that time, but with a message, “Don’t Forget to Take Your Atabrin”, which was to counter Malaria.  It worked for my father, as he never suffered from malaria, not like some poor souls.  Atabrin had a tendency, if taken on a regular basis, to cause the skin colour to turn yellow.

Dad brought home many photographs.  One that stood out to me at the time was of a head-hunter.  The photo was taken on the edge of the jungle and showed a severed head hanging from a belt made of human hair.

I have gleaned this information from memory, from over 80 years ago, but please don’t ask me what I had for breakfast.
​
 
Max Tilbury,
July 2024

“I Have Harnessed my Mind”
 
Over the years my mind has found ways to control me, but now I have found a way to control it.  I will not go into detail about how this was done.
 
My first request was that my mind make me tall, dark and handsome, with a moustache, and make me a ‘wow’ with the ladies.  Unfortunately, this was found to be too hard.  I remain myself, not tall, what hair I have is grey, I have no teeth and have hearing aids, dentures and glasses.  No ‘wow’ to the ladies, I still haven’t a moustache.
 
I have always wanted to be a good athlete, and with the help of my mind, took up athletics.  My best effort was to jump a bit over 8 feet.  Only last week I broke the 3-minute mile.  As the Olympics only come around every 4 years, I may not still have this ability, so did not go on with my athletic career.
 
The next on my list was my football skills.  Able to kick goals from centre half-back I haven’t missed so far this year.  The AFL were not impressed with this.  They may be required to lengthen grounds, which could affect attendances.
 
Having been given the cold shoulder by the footballers, I received a better reception from the cricket people.  I always wanted to be an all-rounder but was disappointed with my batting, as I was twice out for less than 100.  I found my forte as an overarm bowler, the hat-trick became old hat, and we are looking for names for the 4th, 5th and 6th wickets.
 
While I was telling the people at Benalla U3A of my new exploits, my mind took over and I could see that they were getting uneasy.  One uncouth person said, “He is out of his mind”, and they actually booed me.
 
So, now I am back thinking about what could have been.
​
 
Max Tilbury,
July 2024

​Many years ago, when people realised the benefits of recycling, what were known as charity bins appeared everywhere.  Some of those who took them, once the novelty wore off, didn’t service their bins, which led to them being told to remove them. The Benalla Uniting Church had two bins, one was located at the old Coles in Sydney Road, the other was sent out to Swanpool Store for the Swanpool community and was well looked after by Gordon and Beverly.

How did we operate? Our bin, located near the entrance to the old Coles, was cleared most days, the goods brought to a shed behind the church. On Thursday mornings we would bag the items and, when we had sufficient, I would ring up “Rocky” of Uniting Care Broadmeadows to send a truck up and clear the shed. “Rocky” was the only contact we had, he was a remarkable fellow, a great employee and couldn’t do enough for us.

Mal, Phil, and I emptied the bin, sometimes giving visitors or family members a job.  We all had regular tasks. Rod with his sausage like fingers looked after anything that was small and intricate, such as jewellery, and could replace batteries in watches. Mal and Phil did most of packing. Vaughan sorted, he would always find something funny or queer for Phil to take home to his wife Dawn. Because there was a lot of rubbish we had a skip, but Peter would bring most of it back if he got a chance, just like an anxious bitch bringing her pups home.

One of the things we tried to do, if a daughter whose mother had died brought her mother’s clothes in, was to send the clothes off to Melbourne, as she would not want to see someone wearing her Mum’s best dress walking down the main street. This dress may well have appeared on a lady in Uganda. We broke our own rule at least once.  One day a wedding dress appeared. We decided that we would take it to the Ballendella shop. They put it on display in their front window and sold it for $50.

When the shed was full, we would ring “Rocky” to send a truck up.  One of these drivers stood out, a real ‘Ocker Aussie’ called Joe.  When told he had to go to Benalla, he probably needed the GPS to find us and wondered what these ‘Churchies’ did - maybe a prayer before we started loading, and grace before morning tea?  When he found us to be near normal, he entered in the conversation and Benalla became his favourite job. He lived at Glenroy, took an empty truck home Wednesday night, had early breakfast Thursday morning, and drove up to Benalla. We would load him in an hour, he’d get home for a late lunch and take the loaded truck into the depot Friday morning.

When we were told not to send down any more goods, we found we had an empty Big Blue Bin.  Using our imaginations, we began to fill it up with memories of all the fun we had working on it.  We never heard a complaint; it was a bit the other way.  We made sure everybody got involved, we made new friends and got to know friends better. We filled our empty bin up with good memories.

A notice was put on the bin to say we were no longer in business, we were taking it away. We let people know that the bin wouldn’t be there anymore, which worked, as nothing was left there afterwards, not even a sock.
​
A final word - we sold our Big Blue Bin for $100 at one of our Uniting Church Fetes.
 
 
Max Tilbury
June 2024

I joined the Victorian Railways at aged 18 in 1953, working mainly in the Gippsland area as a telephone lineman with the Signal and Telegraph Division.  Our job was erecting a Telegraph line from Dandenong to Traralgon.

In 1960 I became what was known as Section Lineman at Wangaratta, my job maintenance and faults on the telephone lines.  The Wangaratta depot was staffed by six people, an Electrical Fitter and mate; a Signal Adjuster and assistant, and a Lineman and mate. We covered the main line from Benalla to Wodonga and the Branch Lines that ran off this.  The Cudgewa line branched off from Wodonga, a distance of about 100 kilometres. 

​The Cudgewa line was considered the most challenging in the Victorian System. 

It is decided that the Signal Adjusters will show me the ropes.  We put our mode of transport in the Guard’s Van at the rear of the train.  The train leaves Wodonga.  It is flat and easy going, the only thing of note the big causeway spanning an arm of the Hume Dam near Tallangatta.  The train we are travelling in is behind a “K” Steam Locomotive.

We leave Tallangatta and as the Dam is low we can see the outline of old Tallangatta as we pass by.  Before long we get into hilly, short curves, going steadily uphill to the top.  The train stops, then the handbrakes applied as we proceed downhill to help slow the train.  When we get to the bottom of the hill the brakes are taken off.  We continue this process further along.

It is very nerve-wrecking, as the train takes off until the brakes are applied to slow it down. 

The curves are that tight you can hear a steady ‘squark’ which tends to wear the rails away, so at different locations what are known as ‘greasers’ squirt grease as the train passes over them.  A highlight of the trip is crossing the high trestle bridges which span the ravines, the later part of the journey is flat.

​After the steam locomotives were fazed out, “T” class Diesels were used, with startling results.  Twice on frosty mornings these bolted and derailed.  One was recorded going at 80 kilometres an hour round a curve where it should have been travelling at no more than 25 kmh.  The other broke into two sections, the driver in the front section taken to Corryong Hospital, the guard to Tallangatta Hospital.
​
At this time the line was very busy as it was the Victorian railhead for the Snowy scheme, plus special bridge gangs working on the bridges.

I grew up during the war years and was 10 when the second world war finished.  During the latter part of the war, I came into contact with two first word war veterans, Karl Steenholdt and Charlie Johnson.  One lived over the road and the other over the paddock in the small town of Longwarry. ​

The first, Karl Steenholdt, was a first generation Australian of German descent.  I did not know the war records of either Karl or Charlie, but Karl would have been content to be led.  I don’t know how he would have got on, if he had become a prisoner of the Germans.

Karl lived with his sister, a tyrant, who I became very irate about swimming in a nearby dam, topless men that is.  They made a living on a small farm of about 30 hectares, with cows, pigs, a draught horse and a bull, to whom we used to take our cow Basil (yes, a cow named Basil), when the time was right.  Basil was named after a previous owner, Basil Davies. 

During the second world war, Karl would ride his bike to Bunyip where he trained with the Australian Defence Corp, an early version of Dad’s Army.

Karl would ride his bike into town and go to the pub to have a few drinks with other returned first world war veterans on a Sunday morning.  If we visited in the afternoon, we had to be very quiet as he rested.  He would take me ferreting and fishing.  He gave me 2 shillings (20 cents) to spend at the 1948 Melbourne Show.  The only thing he told me about the first world war was that the troops were suffering from severe constipation on the ship bringing them home.   I was with Karl when news came through that the Americans had dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima.  I can’t remember his reaction.

Charlie Johnson was a leader and probably had some rank.  Tough as nails and very outgoing, Charlie was the complete opposite of Karl.  I used to help him, or thought that I did.  He would go to the local pub on Saturday afternoons where he would play cards with other old soldiers, Dinny McIvor and Pop Gurney.  As the day went on, they got louder and louder. 

We never knew their war stories, or the wounds Karl or Charlie may have sustained.  I feel honoured to have met them.

They could have been Anzacs.
 

​Max Tilbury
April 2024