Be grateful for history

IT WAS a dirt car park, no markings, not much room, and in the rain plenty of mud.

Saturdays it was always full, as this glorious northern town was a hive of fun and shopping in a magnificent tropical mall with fountains, colour and plenty of shade.

It was a real family day. Saturday morn in Flinders Mall was a true joy. I would do Saturday mornings in our radio station and park in this old carpark early, and pay my parking afterwards at noon.

Loved Saturday mornings, incredibly busy, and then walking out into the tropical feeling of the mall was magic. Then a stroll through the Northern Permanent, or Metway arcade as it became, past the Coffee Spot and Pet Sounds and off to get the car and then head of to the pu … er … park for a run. Fun days, but this day was different, very different.

I told this story to you a few years back, but I thought I’d share it again, because this Sunday will be very special at our military museum, Jezzine.

Through the arcade towards the car park, a man ran up to me yelling “Pricey, they’ve belted the old man and robbed him”.

I ran out into the carpark and there lying covered in blood was my dear ol’ mate.

He lifted himself up slowly, held on to me – he was a mess – and the first thing he said was: “They’ve taken the money for the kids at the Lutheran Church.”

His thoughts were not for himself, but for the needy kids looked after by the church. You see, he would work every Saturday for six hours or so, and the carpark money would go to charity.

I went to hospital with him after the ambulance arrived, and the tough ol’ bugger came out OK, but the kids had certainly given him a hiding. Simply heart breaking.

But what these kids didn’t know, maybe didn’t care, was who the man was that they had violated. This little man was a hero, in my mind, though he’s gone, always will be. He worked the guns at our Kissing Point, he was a prisoner in the dreaded Changi after he saw the fall of Singapore. Jeff also helped build the Burma Railway and, taken in chains to Japan, he even saw the atomic bomb at Nagasaki.

So this little fella, who had seen all this, was robbed and attacked by kids for a pile of coins.

This man of course is Jeff Caddies. I saw Jeff often, and was proud to call him a mate.

While in Changi he made a ukulele out of coconuts and played it for his fellow prisoners, who at that time had little hope of survival.

When we had the Battle of the Coral Sea Commemoration, and VP 50, Jeff was our city’s mascot, you might say, pride of place at every function, and on most occasions he would bring the ukulele. What a story!

Well this Sunday his family is donating the ukulele and medals to our wonderful military museum at Kissing Point.

This is great history, a wonderful story of joy in the face of absolute torment.

Thanks to Jeff’s family for this lovely thought. I reckon Jeff would be very, very proud. Thank you from a grateful city.

Happy days.