A Fortunate Life

by Albert B. Facey

When they arrived at Narrogin the sick man wouldn’t go to the doctor until he had seen an agent named Watts who represented a firm, Elder Shenton and Company, which had sent him a letter about an account he hadn’t paid. He wanted to tell Watts what he thought of him and the firm, in case he died.

Hell yeah brother

‘Don’t worry. You will be able to go to Perth by yourself all right. When you get to Narrogin you go to the railway station and wait for the train. There is a waiting-room there and you can get a sandwich and a cup of tea anytime you like.’

When I got off the boat I spread my travelling rug on the ground under a big shrub and lay there for over an hour before I felt well enough to bother about finding somewhere to stop.

Travelling rugs seem like a genuinely useful tool

The Ganger turned on me again and said, ‘Well, what are you going to do? What are you going to make of it?’ I said (and I was scared stiff of this giant of a man), ‘If you won’t withdraw what you said I’m prepared to test you with your king-hitting business. You can’t say that about my mother.’

Them’s fighting words

I got a job as a linesman with a surveying firm, Goyder and Davis, surveying land throughout the outer wheat-belt of West Australia. The Head Office was on a farm at Corrigin.

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The instructors didn’t allow for a man from the bush not being acquainted with any kind of army drill or discipline, and there were many country men that had been very keen to answer their country’s call. All that was required was a little patience. Non-commissioned English instructors wishing to assert their authority in a bullying way were no good to the man who had been used to going his way and go-as-you-please freedom. (Probably this worked under conscription conditions in England but not in Australia.) So it was a common sight at Blackboy Hill the first few days, to see a sergeant or a corporal get a punch on the nose or his nose pulled.

When he put the phone back on the hook he told us to go back to our camp and that he felt sure our troubles would be over that afternoon. We both stood up and saluted him and I thanked him. He replied that it was a pleasure and that he was glad to be able to do a service for one of England’s dominions.

The guide showed us a large candle that was burning near the entrance to the tombs. He explained that it had been burning for over one thousand years and had never been allowed to go out. One of the soldiers who was with me became very interested. He asked the guide (he was a little worse for liquor), ‘What about when the candle is burnt down to the end. What do you do?’ The guide said, ‘We light another before it goes out and stand it alongside, so that when the first is spent the other keeps on burning.’ With that, to the surprise of us all, my mate gave a puff and out went the candle. ‘There, it is out now,’ he said. The guide went crazy and grabbed him and started to shake him. My other mate struck a match and lit the candle again. I grabbed the guide and made him let go. I said, ‘There you are, it is alight again.’ He was too upset to listen. He went down onto his knees and prayed to Allah. When he got up he said in English that he would not guide us any longer.

There were also a few times when I ran into larrikins who would jeer and sling off at me for going to the war, but I soon sorted them out. I would clout them quick and lively – they would all show a fight until then, but a good straight left would fix them.

Three weeks later we had a lucky break. An employer of the Tramways, who was going wheat and sheep farming, offered to sell us his small four-roomed house in Victoria Park at very easy terms. The price was four hundred and fifty pounds – no deposit – to be paid off at a pound a week free of interest. The house was built of timber and iron and was on a two acre block. This was considered a bargain so we gladly accepted.

The Government of the day was opposed to the worker in every way. It was called a National Party Government, the worst kind of Government a worker had to put up with. They were, in my view, complete dictators and there was nothing democratic about them.

One of the favourites was Lasseter’s Last Ride by Ion Idriess.

We did have one very pleasing thing happen at this time. The state of Western Australia had a baby competition. The state was divided into districts for this purpose. Our baby at the time was our youngest daughter, Matilda Shirley, who was about four months old at the time of the judging. Several places were clubbed together to make a district. Our daughter was entered in the Great Southern District, which included Wickepin. There were twenty-six districts. Our daughter won the first prize for our District and was selected to go to the final judging. The winner of this final judging would be declared Western Australian Champion. Our baby came fourth and the judges told my wife she was placed fourth because she had a small birthmark on her arm, otherwise she was the most perfect baby in Western Australia. This was one of the proudest days of our lives.

On arriving back in the city we rented a house in a suburb north of Perth. It was February sixteenth 1934. My work was twenty-six miles north of Perth at Wanneroo and I had to camp there as there weren’t any houses at the job. In fact the nearest house was seven miles away.

My experience in the First World War and now the Second World War changed my outlook on things. It is hard to believe that there is a God. I feel that the Bible is a book that was written by man, not for the good of man but for the purpose of preying on a person’s conscience, and to confuse him. Anyone who has taken part in a fierce bayonet charge (and I have), and who has managed to retain his proper senses, must doubt the truth of the Bible and the powers of God, if one exists. And considering the many hundreds of different religions that there are in this world of ours, and the fact that many religions have caused terrible wars and hatreds throughout the world, and the many religions that have hoarded terrific wealth and property while people inside and outside of the religion are starving, it is difficult to remain a believer. No sir, there is no God, it is only a myth.

They said that if I wasn’t a teetotaller I would have died long ago. I was glad that I had always kept my promise to Grandma and that I was strong enough to resist the encouragement of others. They would always say, ‘Come on, be a man’, but I’d say, ‘No thanks, I’d rather be a larrikin.’