seandc | Entries tagged with dad

Today is ANZAC Day, so I thought I'd post some more pictures of the soldiers in the family I posted last year.

These three pictures are of course Dad. These would've been taken around 1983 at our house in South Perth; he's a Lieutenant in the Australian Army by now, and is the Officer in Charge of the Wesley Cadet Unit - it can't be seen in this copy (I've seen the limitations of the home copier now) but the badge on his hat is the school crest.

( John Banks )

These are pictures of Grandpa - Captain H. Berwick Hanton. He was a training officer in WWII, and was instrumental in setting up the cadet unit at Wesley (the same one Dad would be the last OIC of).

The first two pictures show 44 Battalion, on parade through the streets of Perth in 1939. Berwick is in the centre of the line, and can be seen giving the "eyes right" in the second picture. Appropriate they should get the picture in front of the Bank of New South Wales, that's the bank his father worked for, and he himself worked for them for a brief time in the '20s.

The next picture shows an inspection of the cadet troupe, unfortunately I don't know who the VIPs are. This picture or one very much like it appear in the Wesley history. And a couple showing off different uniforms.

( Berwick Hanton )

These are more of Jack - Flight Sergeant John Stubbs. These would've been the rough test pictures people took home to decide which prints they wanted blown up as their "proper" photographs - one even has the store's stamp across it still (although dark ink on dark photo doesn't exactly copy and scan well). These were probably taken just before he left Australia.

( Jack Stubbs )
The small picture of Jack and two mates would probably also be from this time. One of the men is Reg Stokes, from a town called Northampton north of Geraldton. Berwick knew him before the war since he'd gone to Wesley as well. When he'd heard Jack was leaving the Cameron Highlanders and joining the RAAF, and that he'd be training at the same place as Reg, he wondered if he should introduce them. Replies Dorothy "No, Jack's as mad as a wheel, so's Reg, and he's got money so they'll only spend everything on some wild scheme." So, no introductions were made. Cue Jack's first letter "I've met this bonza bloke called Reg Stokes and he comes from Geraldton too!" The two became fast friends, out to have a good time while they could.

One time Berwick had to travel up to Geraldton on Army business or something like that. On the train he got talking to an RAAF chappie in his compartment. Berwick asked what this chap did, and he turned out to be one of the instructors at the RAAF camp in Geraldton. Enquires Berwick "I know this is a silly thing to say, but I've got a young brother-in-law who's just joined up, presumably he'll be in your class..." to which he replies wearily "Thousands pass through my hands, thousands, I can't remember their names." "I know it was a silly question, his name's Jack Stubbs..." "OH great heavens, I know them all right! Stubbs and Stokes, the bane of my existance!" The mission to have a good time was a great success, it seems!

I have to wonder if a certain note on Jack's record once he reached England has a coinciding comment in Reg's... anyway, the two were best friends basically for the rest of their lives - Jack died in 1942, Reg just over a year later.

Last year someone kindly offered to visit the war cemetery in Doullens, France when he was in that part of the world, these are a couple of pictures of Maurice Stubbs' (my great-great-uncle's) grave, after he died of wounds during the German Spring Offensive of 1918.
( Maurice Stubbs )

Oops, I know it's been a while - I'll post this now since I'd always planned to do this as a separate post, and catch up the rest of the month later.

So, last week the letter from Karrakatta came - the plaques have arrived from the engravers, and have been installed.

I met up with Mum at the little cafe at the main gates just after ten on Wednesday (I caught an earlier train since there's only so long I can be aimless in the city, even if I did go looking for a few dvds she needs). Our first stop was to visit Veronica's grave - last time we were up there the masonry had yet to be done and just had a wooden cross with her name in permanent marker. Now everything's complete, and looking much better, with a rather-informative-for-a tombstone, and little white stone chips across the top.

Then it was time to double back and find our plaques in the Columbarium - Veronica's grave is pretty much in the last section before you leave the cemetery so it was a fair walk, with a large flock of galahs expressing their approval of the kinds of trees planted, and their disapproval of some loud noises from construction crews. It's interesting what you may see though - one of the graves with an Army plaque added to it listed the man as being part of my Grandpa's battallion, although possibly from WWI.

Anyway, the plaques are in the corner of two of the inwards facing walls, with a garden bed in the top, so they're shaded by a liquidambar tree - just not as big as the one we had in the house's backyard back when we lived on Trinity College's playing fields.

( Dad's plaque here )

Sorry Dad, I know you would have said you didn't want a plaque or anything that I'd have to pay for, but you don't get to slip away like that!
Notice the border? Closest to a grape vine they had in the selection, wink wink...
Thankfully I thought to take a couple of shots without using the flash. I took a shot with the medals too, and they turned out quite nicely without the flash.

This plaque is for my great-great-grandparents, after their headstone was removed last year:

( Stubbs )

The words are adapted from what was written on the headstone.
The border on this one is the plainest one, for something my grandmother once said. When Grandma and her sisters were young, they often went to stay with their grandma. At the time, the fashion for girls was many ribbons and sashes etc. Elizabeth didn't hold with any of this. By all accounts, she was an elegant lady, but without any of those trappings, and so when the girls went to stay with her, she'd remove the ribbons and have them not wear the sashes - as the saying goes, vanity vanity all is vanity.

Wednesday was Dad's funeral. I'll edit in the "script" the celebrant used when I get a copy of it, I just have my own script for now.

I'll rewind a bit. As usual, I got into town somewhat earlier than needs be - I'm hopeless at just waiting around at home. Anyway, I had shopping and still-not-getting-text-messaging-right to do. I bought a new black shirt with long sleeves (all of mine have short sleeves), and needed new trousers and belt anyway. To finish this off, I bought a tie in the Ross tartan (for Dad's mother - and I asked but they were sold out of Fraser - his grandmother's family).

I toddled along to my Aunts' place - only to be picked up just as I got off the bus by my Aunt on the way to pick up Mum! Anyway, trip there and back made, a leisurely lunch (including introducing everyone there to a drink called Irn Bru) and a quick run-down and edit of the eulogy, and it was time to change and go.

Met up with the other mourners at the gates of Karrakatta - we arrived in the nearest carpark just as my two bosses arrived. We waited for another funeral's procession to leave, then our party followed the hearse up to our chapel. Well, except for the pallbearers - Alan Deverel, Jochen Rudiger, Bill Whitney and myself - who kept pace with the car (I was told later that everyone behind had trouble keeping up at normal walking pace).

I took the right foot of the casket, and we walked in after the rest of the party had entered the chapel, to the closing bars of Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon. After we set the casket down, the service was begun by our celebrant, a friend of Mum's Irene Oram, who had volunteered her services.

Even if I could recall everything verbatim, I'd wait until I had a copy of the script before writing it. Anyway, the service was started, then we launched into a singing of the Wings song Mull of Kintyre. After that it was time for my eulogy, below.

( Eulogy )

Yeah, I got through it just fine (was repeatedly told afterwards I did great). No voice catching or crying or anything. It was while I was up at the lecturn that I got to get a proper look at the gathering. We estimate about forty people turned up, Dench Chapel has seating for twentyfive. I think it was more fitting that we had people standing, but still standing relatively close, as opposed to booking a larger chapel and have it be partially empty.

The service resumed with an address by Alan Deverel of the Returned and Services League of Australia giving a brief run-down of Dad's time in the British and Australian Armies (although it's a pity I didn't get a chance to give some of the details Dad told me a year ago, like being in Libya the week before Colonel Gaddafi took over), and the laying of poppies on the casket, after which The Last Post was played with the minute's silence after, then the Reveille.

The last few prayers were said, then the piobreachd lament The Dark Island was played as the coffin was lowered into the pedestal and out of sight. At which point the service was brought to an end, and the lounge opened for refreshments and meeting and greeting the family for the next half-hour. Simple biscuits with tea/coffee/cordial, but effective. At the end of it when Mum was able to get free for a few minutes the funeral directors gave her the mourners cards, and an audiotape of the service so we can send a copy overseas. One of the cards had been attached to the flowers on the coffin - we didn't pay for any flowers at the service, it was only once we'd gotten home that we managed to find that card, and luckily it was from Dad's sisters and brother, they'd managed to get the orders delivered in time (we weren't sure, since it was placed less than a day before the funeral).

I found out a couple of things at the post-service do, like one of his friends from Beverley had been on the same Hill in Borneo as him at the same time. Dad was with the British Army at the time, his mate was with the Australian Army, there were only about 120 of them out there at the time, and years later they meet in the pub in a small country town. Also heard how he met "Auntie Kim and Uncle Jochen" - just after they'd come out from Germany some people in the pub (probably the Windsor at the time) were giving them grief for being German, so Dad went up and put them in their place, then turned and introduced himself to Kim and Jochen, welcomed them to the area, and the rest is history.

Anyway, we saw the rest of the people on their way back to work, or home, or in the case of some of Mum's cousins to visit family graves then onwards for a drink and a meal, we went back to my Aunts' place for dinner and to pick up our stuff, and was dropped home just after nine o'clock, feeling somewhat exhausted. I stayed up for a little while, until a massive headache sent me to bed until lunchtime the next day, out like the proverbial light. Another bunch of flowers was delivered the next day from work, and I had my own bottle of Irn Bru to drink for Dad's birthday.

Thank you everyone for your condolences and hugs and prayers over the weekend. :)

I hope you'll forgive me if I reply here instead of to each comment. I do feel the need to write, but at the same time I just can't handle too much writing of it, you know? I'm still finding the emails to some old army mates hard to do, and I can't face the Family Tree Maker program...

Ok, where to start... Dad had already been started on the morphine by the time we got there, and the dose was increased as time went on. He wouldn't have realised that he couldn't cough anything up normally and had to have his mouth swabbed/suctioned every so often (that's what happened to make them call). He was only in pain once the first day when he was being turned and a pump had stopped working, after that he was just settled further and further.

Saturday morning I had wanted to go and freshen up a bit (having been in the hospital over a day), but the nurses said I mightn't want to even take the time having a quick wash, that's how close and settled they saw him as being. By this time they'd taken him off the oxygen, which wasn't helping anymore. A couple of hours later they came in to give him a quick clean up and turn him. Mum and I went out to the lounge to give them some space. A few minutes later they came to get us, and we held his hands as he took his last breaths. Yes, it was hard to watch, but I can't imagine not having been there. I don't think I could've forgiven myself if I hadn't been.

It's strange. All this time we were given estimates - two months, two weeks, and so on. Last week whenever I heard Mum talk about Dad's condition on the phone, I thought maybe we should bring the family get-together forward a few days (especially since the 21st is actually his birthday). I would have liked him to make it that long, but once we got to the hospital and saw his condition there, I just wanted him to let go. He was alive for all that time (from the fact we were called in early-morning, I was surprised he made it to sunrise at first), but it wasn't really life for him. He was a soldier, independent. The most he wanted people to do for him was to get him a cup of coffee, I can't imagine what he'd think of the level of care needed at the end. Indeed, he was still insisting he could manage to clean up himself when he was at home, and still trying to talk rather than write.

So, the funeral is tomorrow - managed to find a director for about half the price of the company that Grandpa used (he pre-paid his). No frills, but Dad was specific about getting as cheap as possible - if he'd had the strength, he would've probably gone down to WA Salvage, bought some wood, and built the casket himself. We can use some of the money saved towards a plaque at Karrakatta. Of course, I won't actually see the eulogy I'm meant to be giving until about three hours beforehand. :lol: Not to mention adding my own notes to it, and anything Dad's sisters might phone through. So, big and long day tomorrow.

Oh, and I got to a scanner yesterday (had to go in to work to put in the leave paperwork, change over the computer stuff and clear desk-stuff and all), so I've edited in a photo to the last entry like I said I would.

John James Banks
21 December 1944 - 16 December 2006

Edit: picture of Dad in 1983 added - that's a darts trophy, probably still from the Windsor Hotel at that point.

Thank you to everyone who commented on the previous entry.

Current Location: Bethesda Hospital, Claremont W.A.

At 2.15 this morning I was woken up by some strange racket going on next to me. The time was all wrong for the alarm, and it wasn't the radio going. It took a few seconds to wake up enough to realise it was the mobile phone ringing and vibrating on the table next to me (and this is the first night I'd kept it switched on). I didn't recognise the number of the just-missed call, and was thinking about going back to sleep when I thought I'd look up the number in the phone book (once I found the right one).

Bethesda Hospital.

I called back, and it was the call that wasn't meant to come for a couple of weeks - Dad had detoriorated considerably during the night shift nurse's time, and it was time to come in.

On somewhere in the region of around 1.5 hours sleep, I was running just on adrenaline when I called the cab. One fun little $50 trip to Claremont later (since neither me or the driver had been here before), and I met up with Mum at the front doors waiting to be let in. We were told what's happening and then led through to Dad's room, so for the last coming-up-on-thirteen hours we've been sitting with him, waiting for the end. He showed some response to Mum and I talking in the early hours, I think, but now he doesn't even respond to the nurses helping him out.

I just had to get out for a little while since there's nothing I can do but wait, and find something I can do, which is type. I tried calling my holidaying aunts in Sydney, but nothing so far. One of Mum's cousins dropped in though.

But yeah, just a matter of waiting now, though I think he's hung on longer than was expected.

Current Location: Bathesda Hospital, Claremont W.A.

So, it's been a busy week for me.

Bosslady came back on Monday, so I'm no longer in charge of the library, just trying to catch up with stuff, and do little things like decorating - started Monday arvo, finished it Tuesday morning - has to be me since I'm the only one who has a chance of reaching the ceiling to hook stuff in there - and that's with a ruler-with-carved-notch for lifting the hooks up. Anyway, the front ceiling is strung with lengths of tinsel, many dangling over the walkways with hanging things just in tempt-people-to-bat-them positions (it works too, even if I don't dare anyone :lol:)

Anyway, that's it for the year, I'm on leave now, so hopefully when I go back there'll have been certain changes made and morale will be much better - it's been the lowest anyone can remember, even I've had to play counsellor after certain people have made instant decisions with no consultation.

I was originally just going to take yesterday and tomorrow off - tomorrow I'd planned for a while, and yesterday was to go and talk to Mum about a funeral director. I went up to my parents' place as planned (with some extra, like a chair tall and sturdy enough for me and a tree). Looked in on Dad when I got there. The last time I saw him in the hospital a few months ago he was thin, even for him - he's never been an especially big man. Now he's skeletal, that's the only word for it. He can't really talk anymore, since he needs the machines to help him breathe for any more than a minute or so, so for him to talk he needs to basically hold his breath and shout to be heard at all. Anyway, during the day between visits from various people from Silver Chain I gave him some messages from his old unit, and he showed me stuff about his mobile phone - I've taken that so I can be called immediately when the time comes. He didn't think much about writing the instructions though, he still tried to vocalise them.

Anyway, he's gone back into the hospice for a few days to a - give Mum a break, and b - escape the weekend's heat. The Silver Chain nurse says that the doctors there are only giving him two weeks now. So, I decided to take the rest of the year off at least, to be able to visit Dad or at least help Mum (who's getting a bit narked at well meaning questions). As long as I got the doctor's certificate, I have plenty of various types of leave. Did really get the stuff done we meant to, what with counsellors and carers dropping in.

Today I went back up there - everything managed to connect nice and easily, and I got the right train to Bassendean (along with some early risers among the Barmy Army) to get the first 62 instead of waiting for a cab. I was glad of this, since it means I was able to pop my head in and see Dad before the transfer-ambulance showed up to take him to the hospice. Dad said that he'll just go in for a few days (I'd say at least until Wednesday because the start of the week is going to be a stinker). Mum says she doesn't think he's ever coming home. Our family plans for Christmas were to meet up there on the 23rd - I suggested we should pull that back to the 21st - his birthday, and hopefully he'll be home for that at least. So, Mum and I made further plans, asked another funeral company for a quote, and are now just waiting for some word on who do a good job before arranging the deposit (since even the deposit is near $2000), and then went on a big food shopping trip (so I could pay for the food, and cabs there and back - I'm sure Dad would be horrified that I'd done that and would try to pay me back). Went home after putting Mum in the cab (I live in a totally different part of the city), and took a nap, rather tired out after the last couple of days (not to mention the holiday crowds in Galleria).

Tomorrow, I go in to work for a short while just to change the computers over and hand in the doctor's note for my leave, then out for a long-planned day out. I think a day of fun is just what the doctor ordered right now, there'll be precious little opportunity much later.

As you might remember, my Dad's been diagnosed with lung cancer that's teamed up with bronchitis, so the two treatments cancel eachother out.

So, two weeks ago Dad was back in hospital. A while back in a previous trip in, I asked Dad if he wanted something like a portable DVD player to keep him occupied in hospital since he'd seen everything the hospital-tv could offer. He refused of course (this is Dad, he didn't want me spending the money on him). This time he rang up, to say he'd reconsidered this, is it possible to get it now? I took the morning of Wednesday the 16th off to meet up with Mum, and buy the player and some TV seasons so she could take them to Dad (I had a cold at the time, not a good idea to go see someone with pneumonia/bronchitis).

I bought a nice little 9" model for $200, some stuff like Minder and MacGyver, Spooks and JAG to keep him busy, and went as far as the lift - even if I had been feeling entirely better, Royal Perth doesn't exactly have a lot of room on the wards for a visitor, let alone two. Anyway, he was happy with that, even though he went home the day after getting the player :lol:. Says that the picture is very good, and at a lot closer to his eyes than the ceiling TVs are it should be.

That was two-and-a-half weeks ago.

Friday I got a call from Mum - ok, from my Aunt, to call Mum after she got back from taking Dad to a hospice (but not to panic).

Anyway. Called Mum. This weekend has been the start of Summer here. Dad won't see Autumn. He'll be in the hospice for just a couple of days so they can try and get his breathing controlled, then he'll be back home about Wednesday. But yeah, two months...

So now we're starting to make plans, get in touch with people. Dad's brother just might be coming out here soon (Mum told Aunt June today), and I'll tell Dad's old regiment. I'll also ring Karrakatta tomorrow to see what their basic services are, and Mum will see what Veterans Affairs can do.

You'd better shape up pretty darn toot suite, you hear?

Monday was pretty high on the annoyance scale - just one of those days that the Foul-Up Fairy decided to stick around for the times when people weren't just adding more and more to my plate (which I couldn't handball as I was on my lonesome).

Tuesday opens with a letter to the bus driver: if there's a lane you can go in that will save 20 minutes off the trip in construction and wet weather traffic, USE IT!! Our crowded bus was overtaken by the next two of our bus, and three of the ones I wanted to transfer to. Thanks mate, let me know how futile it is trying to get in at a decent time.

As I get in, my phone starts ringing the moment I approach. It's Mum, to tell me that Dad's in Royal Perth Hospital. He's doing better than he said from how he described when he got in last night. I went in after work to get him a few papers (luckily the little newsagent had a couple of the UK papers, although I'd already printed out the football scores, Dad likes to hear about what's happening back home) and to set up his phone/tv stuff. Anyway, he's getting treatment now and can't wait to build up his strength again - I won't say what he's in for, but he needs to get some appetite back to build up some energy again.

So yeah. This week has done little to recommend itself, and needs to copy some of the awesome bits of last week pronto!

So last night

calliopes_pen and I were talking and the subject of where our Dads had gone in their Army days came up. Since they'd both been in Germany, but not entirely sure when, I thought I'd go to the source, and ask Dad. And this is what he said.

Regiment: 40th Field Regiment, Royal Artillery
Battery: 129 (Dragon) Battery

( Kind of organised timeline under here )