Every Tuesday, Aunty Phyllis came for the day and got me 'back on track' with the washing, ironing, cleaning and shopping. After the evening meal, Henry and I would go out to the little church at Coopers Plains for the weekly Bible Study and Prayer meeting leaving our 'littlelies' to the loving care of Aunty Phyllis 'with her towels'. One Tuesday night, Sybil Baskerville burst into the church saying, "There's a big fire in the joinery behind your home at Wooloowin; Howard and Ron have gone over to help!" We had driven out in the Holden which Dad had just given us and I had not had opportunity to get familiar with the new gears on the steering column and other new-fangled items. Henry immediately said that he would stay at the meeting and pray and that left me to drive by myself an unknown 'new' car across the City and back to Wooloowin hardly knowing what awaited me there. The fire was enormous. The joinery behind our home was totally alight with flames everywhere reaching, it seemed, right up to the sky. And a huge crowd of spectators had gathered. I parked the Holden where I could but it was almost impossible to get through the dense crowd. A policeman came up after seeing my increasingly desperate jostlings and told me not to try to get anywhere closer. "But, that's my home", I said, "And my children are in that house!" With that, he manoeuvred me through the crowd and I saw my home with, it seemed, two huge and gigantic flaming hands cupped around and over the back of it. Somehow I found little Peter and Thomas each being lovingly cared for by complete strangers; each with his Teddy- bear under one arm and a large cardboard text which had hung over their respective beds firmly grasped under the other. Peter's text ran "All Scripture is given by inspiration of God" and Tommy's said, "Kept by the Power of God." Later, when the crisis had passed and the firemen were damping down the smouldering embers and the crowd had dispersed, I found Howard and Ron and Aunty Phyllis together with Margaret and Helen who were each clutching one of my handbags thinking that they contained my valuables. We were let back into the house. The back wall was scorched and all the paint blistered and the back windows were cracked. David and Aunty Phyllis, at great risk, had entered the bird cage at the beginning of the fire with a sheet and had rescued the birds, carrying them up to the bathroom where, in a great state of shock the budgies, released from the sheet, flew up to the rail on top of the curtain that enclosed the bath and began to 'poop' everywhere. Next day an Insurance Assessor, complete in a three - piece suit, with felt hat and a furled umbrella came to assess the damage. When he had finished, he asked for the bathroom. I had forgotten that the birds and their droppings and the filthy sheet were still there. All that I heard as he entered the bathroom were his querulous words, "Where can I wash my hands?"
See also related story by [Tom] [Sam]

A lot of women I know (and you know too) seem to be often pre-occupied with a threatening rival. In the 1940's it might have been the red-haired Rita Hayworth or the slinky blonde on the bus or the bar-maid at the local pub. Today, some see 'Footy' as their rival; some- just a small white golf ball. But for me, in 1944/45, I have a sneaking suspicion that it was that 'grand lady of the skies'-the Lancaster, and, in particular, one named "O" Oboe from 460 squadron at Binbrook, Linconshire. The nearest we get here in OZ to the feeling of a 'Lanc' is when we see one at close hand such as 'G' George by name in Canberra. We have a look inside and wonder how, in that long interior of the aircraft frame, crammed with instruments, with guns, wireless, radar, bomb-sights etc., anyone in a clumsy padded flying-suit could move about at all. Nevertheless, it is a recorded fact that over 50,000 young men, most of them in their early twenties, lived out their last days and died in such surroundings. All of them who flew knew and accepted that their chances of survival were slim. Two in every three were lost in the early days and one in every three towards the end. One wonders what it was that stimulated and drove them on and made them get into these huge bombers several times a week (while the weather held) as Bomber Command continued to choose targets for attack. Could it have been an on-going love affair with this 'lady of the skies'? Perhaps not altogether! But, if they had to go in the line of duty, there was no better loved nor more trustworthy companion to carry them on their mission than their own special Lancaster. As World War 2 drew to a close in Europe, Lancaster bombers were engaged for a while in dropping food to starving people in Holland and, after Germany's surrender, in bringing back to England released prisoners of war from Germany and Italy. Did I ever get really close to my rival? Yes! I did! One morning, whilst I was still at Binbrook, the home of 460 Squadron RAAF, the WAAF Intelligence Officer named Val came into my bedroom early and said, "Would you like a trip over Europe in a Lanc?" I got dressed in a moment, forgot about breakfast, and ran with her to the dispersal where Squadron Leader Frank Lawrence was readying his machine for take-off. When we climbed on board through the back side door and clambered forward to the pilot's compartment past the Wireless Operator and the Navigator, both already seated in their respective compartments. we came upon Frank and the Flight Engineer about to start the engines. Val took up a standing position beside the Flight Engineer and I squeezed in behind Frank's pilot's seat. We taxied out and took off down the long runway. What excitement to hear the roar of the four Merlin engines and to feel the surge of power as the plane gathered speed and then lifted off and soared over the fence at the end of the runway. Still climbing, Frank turned on course for Germany across the North Sea and levelled out at about 1000 to 1500 feet. We flew across Holland, down the Rhine and into the Ruhr, the 'Happy Valley' as it was called by the Bomber crews because of the strength of its defences. Southwards we flew, down its whole length and on as far as Wiesbaden and, as I looked out through the perspex windows, I saw the utter devastation of the Ruhr cities and towns. Human beings were moving about like ants amongst the rubble of shattered buildings. Here and there the outer walls of a building would be still standing but none had roofs and all the interior was gutted. Thankfully, for these German survivors it was summer and not winter. Many people since have condemned the British and American Bomber forces for the destruction that they caused, but I had seen for myself what the German bombers had done earlier in the war to parts of London, Portsmouth and Canterbury-not to mention the frightful tragedy of Coventry. It was the Germans who sowed the wind and they reaped the whirlwind. By now it was nearly mid-day and I was starting to feel peckish. I said to Frank, "What's for lunch?" and he handed me a small Fry's chocolate bar. Hardly a satisfying lunch for someone who had had no breakfast. I was also beginning to tire after standing up for hours behind the pilot. Behind me was a soft curtain and protruding from it a small ledge just at the right height for my bottom to comfortably rest on. It was nicely warm and got very warm towards the end of the trip. I discovered later that it was the Navigators H2S radar equipment and I was somewhat mortified to learn this as I was a Signals Officer and supposed to be fully aware of the delicate, top secret, highly sophisticated radar equipment that the bombers now carried. After Wiesbaden we turned westward and came back over France. Here there was no sign of bombing-just beautiful countryside, green trees and peaceful crops everywhere-such a dramatic contrast to the picture we had left behind. We landed at Binbrook in the mid-afternoon and I went straight to bed, thrilled but exhausted. Apart from Val, I have never met another WAAF who was granted such an opportunity to fly over Europe in a Lancaster. This was my introduction to this 'gracious lady of the skies', a very personal and close-up meeting with a companion of my life-long rival-that other Lancaster named "O" Oboe.

This is Mum's response: To Sam, Gwen & Family, Your "Email" of 15 December received from Phil and so very much appreciated. It took me back to our days at The Gap when we were all much younger and life was very full and all our efforts and talents were being used. One of my "special talents" of course, was filling six huge pillow-cases! Balloons were a good choice, a lot of them, colourful and cheap! But nobody, but nobody ever in the Baskerville household hung up a "stocking". It was always the largest pillow-case that could be found. I can still recall our bed-room on Christmas morning, with kids everywhere, covering the sheets, the blankets, the pillows, and the simple fun of it all. . . . "Just what I always wanted!" Even if it wasn't! We are told the boy is the father of the man and that remains true for everyone of us (even for the girls?HB). And I think that "the boy" is largely due to his heritage in a family and the understanding that we are loved unconditionally. Later on in life, of course, we come to realise that this is how God loves us also;(Now she is preaching but it's good stuff HB) Daphne is so excited about your return to Brisbane and, of course, for us too it is wonderful. I am so proud of you and your family - so much a part of our family team. Regarding my ankles: they were badly damaged in the fall. One was stitched; it looked a bit like spider's web originally. But the other was like a large "slice" which they couldn't stitch and there was some "tut-tutting" medically (it's a new form of treatment. HB) But, it too has started yo heal and we are both hoping and believing that this will continue. I have to sit or lie down all the time with my two legs raised, so Dad has become expert at housework and even at cooking. I only go out to see the Doctor. (not the whole truth! I took he out for the day yesterday to visit an old friend from immediate post-war days, Bill Redmond. He lost his wife just twelve months ago. We knew them both very well.HB) Most of the family are now at Straddie (that is, if David and Helen constitute both!HB) but we hope to see something of you at Christmas. (probably not a big get-together but in smaller and more intimate occasions.HB) Love always, Mum. [Sam]