Remembrance Day: Dorothy’s story

MY mum, Dorothy Smith, was born on 14 December 1919 in a small mining settlement in outback Queensland called Kuridala.

She had three brothers – one older and two younger.

Her father was a mine manager, and the family lived there several years before moving to Papua New Guinea when Mum was two.

The family stayed in Papua New Guinea until she turned seven and then returned to Sydney so Mum could get an education.

She was in her early 20s at the start of WWII and worked in a typing pool.

Ian, her eldest brother, joined the army in 1940 and died at Al Alamein in 1942.

Keith, one of her younger brothers, enlisted in 1941 and was lost at sea in 1943 when the Sunderland bomber he served on never returned to England.

Dorothy’s mother found it hard to cope with the loss of her two sons and spent time recuperating in Ryde Psychiatric Hospital.

Meanwhile, Mum continued to work to support her youngest brother, Dermer, while he studied medicine.

Dermer was tall for his age and too young to serve in the war, and one day he was handed a white feather when walking along a street in Sydney.

Around the end of 1943, Mum caught a train from Sydney to Perth to enlist in Australia Women’s Army Service (AWAS). She was accepted for overseas deployment in the Australian Army Women’s Medical Service (AAWMS).

She became known as “Smithy” and embarked on the Taroona in 1944, which set sail for Rabaul PNG.

Her arrival in Rabaul was delayed due to the Americans carpet bombing the Japanese soldiers entrenched around the harbour and by the time she disembarked there was nothing left.

At Rabaul, Mum was assigned to the dysentery ward and her daily routine involved clearing out snakes from her bed before going to sleep at night and keeping an eye out for prisoners of war as there was no lockup.

It’s hard to imagine the impact this had on her.

I think she never really recovered and suffered major depression every couple of years; when this occurred, she would spend time recuperating in Concord Repatriation Hospital.

Mum always had trouble sleeping and was regularly up at 3.00am keeping the fuel stove going, knitting, writing letters and always had a cup of tea at the ready.

On a moonlit night, you may even have seen her tending the veggie patch which was about 30 feet down the yard next to the dunny.

I would like to acknowledge, pay my respects, and thank the women that suffered all their lives not knowing, the women that lost someone dear, the women that worked in a host of different roles to support Australia and the women that served overseas.

To all the women that got on with their lives even though it must have been hard.

By Colin HUTTON, Thora