From May 1944 to December 1945, Sergeant Frank Walsh
served alongside frontline forces in the Pacific,
not as a soldier or pilot, but as a medical orderly
at the RAAF.
I found his diaries in the letters so revealing
about what was going on.
Seeing I was a small child during the turmoil
of World War II.
My parents met at Bridgewater on Lodden.
Dad was a relieving teacher in little bush schools.
And he came into the cafe run by my mum's family,
the O'Shannessys, and voila, he met
my mother who was this pretty girl with butter
on her fingers, making sandwiches.
After being engaged a year, they married.
On the 9th of February I enlisted in the Royal
Australian Air Force as a technical trainee
and was stationed at the exhibition
buildings in Melbourne.
Reen and our dear Paula boarded opposite
at Royal Terrace, 62 Nicholson Street.
It was wonderful that dad had contact with me
while he was stationed here, because we lived opposite
in the Blue Stone Terrace.
And his mates would call out present
when there was a roll call and he would go AWOL
and come over and babysit me.
And he writes in his diary, "I don't know how long
I've got to hold my baby."
So I tear up now when I read that again.
I had hoped to become an aircraft ,
electrician but I found the course too difficult.
So I chose to become a medical orderly.
On the 8th of May 1943, Frank departs Townsville by sea
for number five medical receiving station
Goodenough Island, via Milne Bay in New Guinea.
With large air strips, Goodenough Island
was used by the RAAF and US Air Force
to mount strikes against Japanese positions
throughout the Pacific.
Third of August, it's Paula's second birthday tomorrow.
How I wish I could be home for it.
I'm just living for the day when I
should see my two dears again.
We're now packing to go to Biak in Dutch New Guinea, which
the Yanks have just taken.
It's about 1,000 miles from here.
Tuesday 11th of September, arrived Biak 10:30 AM.
Can see where the bombs and shells have
cut the vegetation to bits.
Much evidence of Japanese occupation, dead bodies
and equipment everywhere.
Still plenty of live ones about.
They often come down to give themselves up.
Frank's diary entries ceased from October 1944
until he began writing again in early 1945.
We soon had 100 patients with only five orderlies
to look after them day and night.
We practically ran ourselves to a standstill.
Made acting corporal on tenth of January.
He probably felt that was not as important,
the medical orderly role, as a bomber pilot or a soldier
who had to go out and kill.
Wednesday 14th of February, reached Mauriti.
We are jammed in North, South, East and West.
A real Australian and Japanese sandwich.
The perimeter is only four miles away.
You can hear the sounds of guns quite clearly.
Just two days after arriving at Mauriti Island,
Frank is injured in a vehicle accident
and he's lucky to survive.
Quite a lot has happened since the last entry.
Germany has surrendered.
Mussolini, Hitler, Goebbels, and Goering are all dead.
I've applied for my discharge, but doubt that I shall get it.
On the 20th of June, Frank is posted to Labuan Island
off the coast of Borneo.
Once a Japanese stronghold, it's now
part of the final push towards victory.
He disembarks just days after Australian forces wrestled
control from the Japanese.
Looks to be just a mass of ruins, the whole foreshore
is terribly battered.
Overwhelmed with work, Frank once again neglects his diary.
By October 1945, Frank is back in hospital,
this time with acute appendicitis,
but it's not all bad news.
He learned that his discharge has been approved
and that he will be medically evacuated within days.
Maybe a sevy by next Sunday.
Spent two days making bracelets and a necklace
from shells for Paula and Reen.
I can't imagine what it would be like to sleep within four walls
again and not have to worry about the rain coming in
or the tent blowing down.
On Sunday, October 21, Frank touched down in Melbourne.
He was reunited with his wife and daughter the next day.
These men were jumping off the train
and running towards their families.
And this man ran towards my mum and gave her a huge kiss
and took me out of her arms and I was so frightened.
I didn't know my dad.
He was discharged from the RAAF on December the 15, 1945.
He didn't talk a lot about the war.
One day, he wanted to come and walk
outside the Royal Exhibition buildings to remember
those days, of those wonderful young men and women
donating their lives, literally, for our country.