The people

Growing up, sisters Amelia and Barbara had a very happy childhood. Their house was never empty, with their two brothers and numerous cousins, aunts and uncles always around.

Amelia remembers having water fights during the summer that would leave the front passageway of their Port Melbourne home covered with water. Despite this, 'mum was never mad', she recalls. Barbara remembers going to school with jam sandwiches for lunch, while other kids had meat. 'We didn't have a lot', she reflects, 'but we didn’t go without'.

When the war started, the sisters were students at Nott Street Primary School. The war wasn't spoken about in their home, despite the fact that Amelia and Barbara's father, Robert Currie, enlisted alongside his two brothers.

Amelia remembers the rationing that came into effect during the war years, and how fast the ration book would run out in their house. She recalls her mother used to go to the South Melbourne Market late to get the bargains at the end of the day and would make use of the local 'black market' on occasion, when supplies were low. The local community looked out for each other.

As the war progressed, fear began to grow that Australia might be invaded or bombed by Japan. Amelia remembers air raid shelters were dug in Raglan Street close to their house, but they were warned not to go near them.

"When they thought the Japanese were coming, we weren't allowed to have any light at night. We covered the windows with paper because we were close to the Port. My sister and I slept together in a big bed and we were scared of the dark."

The children were sent to live with their grandmother in Mount Evelyn when it was thought that invasion was imminent. They took the train there and stayed for a few months, even attending school locally for a short time. Their mother stayed behind in Port Melbourne, but Amelia recalls that their father came to visit.

"But he was AWOL [absent without leave] at the time, and he was arrested and taken back to the camp by his brother, our uncle Frank, who was in the military police. I have a photograph of us kids and grandma, and someone has added a picture of Father into the back of it."

The girls returned home to Port Melbourne and the war soon ended. Their uncles returned, but their father did not.

"We weren't told he was killed until later. I wasn't told until I was about 16 that he was killed in New Guinea. As children we weren't thinking about it because we had a lot of people around us. I can remember Mum crying and we would give her cuddles, and she'd just tell us she would be okay and to go and play."

Elva was born in 1927 and had almost finished school when war was declared in 1939. She was the youngest of six, with four older sisters and a brother two years older than her.

Elva had an adventurous childhood. Her brother took her to all sorts of secret places around the local area, including Fishermans Bend, which they knew as 'the Bend'. They would try to catch rabbits, forage for birds' eggs, explore under Station Pier, and spend hours on the beach in summer.

Elva's parents didn’t talk about the war at home and she knew nothing about the bombing of Darwin or the submarines in Sydney Harbour. But the realities of war did affect her life. Elva still has the identity card she was given during this time.

All Australian civilians were issued with an identity card and required to carry it with them whenever they left their homes. This system was designed to monitor the movement of 'aliens' (non-citizen residents).

Elva remembers the air raid wardens coming to check that windows were properly blacked out, and the air raid shelters that were dug along the local railway line.

There were many foods and goods in short supply during the war. As well as rationing, Elva remembers people would shop at the South Melbourne Market late on Friday nights or at the end of the day on Sundays, in search of bargains. She has very fond memories of the meals her mother cooked with cheap cuts of meat including, offal, lamb's fry, tripe, kidneys, and ox tail. "It was delicious, and probably what has helped me live so long."

People were resourceful during the war years, and you could always find something you needed on the local 'black market', where Elva sourced blankets for her wedding trousseau.

Elva's family were lucky. They owned their small house in Montague and a holiday home in Belgrave. When there was talk of women and children being sent away to the country as the threat of Japanese invasion intensified, Elva's mother said she would take them all to Belgrave. But thankfully, that never happened.

As the war continued, Elva finished school and joined the workforce. At fourteen years old she got a job at Manton's department store on Bourke Street. One year later, Elva was old enough to work in a factory, so she joined a friend on the staff at J. Kitchen and Sons candle factory in Port Melbourne.

American troops were a familiar site in the local area after 1942. Elva recalls, 'The Americans were such a novelty to see, so beautifully turned out and well dressed'. With their impressive uniforms, money, and access to luxury items like chocolate and Coca-Cola, the American soldiers caught the attention of many young women. Elva remembers hearing about fights breaking out between Australian and American soldiers, especially around Flinders Street Station.

The local dance halls were popular among the Americans, and Elva recalls they taught locals the jitterbug dance.

When the war ended, Elva, like many young people, hurried into the city to celebrate. "I remember we rushed up to get the bus into the city. It was absolute chaos. People were very happy, running around, dancing and singing."

Janet was just four years old when the war started. She has an excellent recall of her early childhood, growing up in a small two-bedroom cottage in Chusan Street, St Kilda.

Janet attended the St Kilda and Balaclava Free Kindergarten before starting school at Brighton Road Primary School. When American troops took over Mac.Robertson Girls' High School during the war, the students from Mac.Robertson's moved to Brighton Road, and Janet and her classmates were moved to different schools. Janet was placed in Caulfield North for the remainder of the conflict.

Rationing and the restriction on certain materials meant that many children had to improvise for toys and games.

"There were shortages in rubber during the war, so we didn't have tennis balls or footballs, but we still played sports. We used to roll up newspaper into a ball and tie strings around it. We would wet it and the paper would expand into a make-shift football."

Janet's father enlisted in 1942, and while he stayed in Australia, he served up and down the east coast. The threat of Japanese invasion after the bombing of Darwin intensified. Janet recalls, "I can remember my mum and aunty talking about it, and wondering what they would do if the Japanese invaded with all the men in the neighbourhood gone."

As well as the picking up on the anxiety her mother felt, Janet was well aware of the general sense of fear that was in Australia, because she was an avid reader of the newspaper.

"I can remember being very scared of the Japanese invading. My cousin and I made a plan to run away if they did. We loaded up our toys and dolls into a cart with socks and shoes, although we didn't pack any food!"

Towards the end of the war, Janet's father spent some time at the Heidelberg Repatriation Hospital. Janet remembers going to visit him with her mother.

"I remember walking through the wards and seeing all these men doing strange things. Mum would say to me 'don't stare, they can't help it'. There was one man who was always fishing in a bucket of water. My dad would ask him 'have you caught any fish yet?' and he'd reply, 'they're biting but nothing yet'."

Janet missed the bus to school the day that the war finally ended. She was waiting at the tram stop when she saw men dancing around in the garage across the road, yelling out that the war was over. She went to school, only to be sent home singing and dancing with her classmates. "We expected everyone [serving overseas] to come home the next day of course," she recalls, "but most of them didn't come home for ages."

When Judy was eight years old, her father enlisted and left to join the war effort.

In 1940, her mother moved the family, which included Judy and her two older brothers, from their home in Malvern to a flat in Elwood to be closer to her best friend.

Her two older brothers eventually left for boarding school and later enlisted themselves. Being the youngest and still at school, Judy remained in Elwood with her mother until the end of the war. Judy remembers spending lots of time entertaining herself.

"I used to ride my bike everywhere and head down to the water quite often. I particularly recall spending lots of time hitting a tennis ball against the wall in the courtyard of our building."

Judy's mother was heavily involved in the war effort and spent lots of time volunteering.

"I recall helping my mother with her First Aid and Home Nursing course, and winding bandages in the living room and even being a volunteer patient during training days, lying on the ground while Mother demonstrated bandaging techniques."

Judy saw her father once during the war, when he came back for a short visit, but he wrote to both her and her mother regularly. Judy particularly recalls her father constantly writing about how much he was looking forward to hearing her play a particular piece of music on the piano.

"I was really worried he would be disappointed if I couldn't play it, but I was much more interested in playing hockey than playing the piano!"

Food shortages and rationing affected everyone during the war years. Judy remembers her mother grew silverbeet in amongst the flowers around their flat.

At school Judy practised drills in the muddy, mosquito-filled trenches dug all around the hockey ground. She can remember one particular day when the whole school marched with backpacks on to the train station, preparing in the event that they might have to be evacuated. When talk of evacuating children to the countryside came up, Judy's aunt in Heidelberg offered to have Judy stay with her and her family. "I really didn't want to go", Judy recalls, "because my aunt made her kids do their homework on Saturday mornings!"

While she has no memory of being scared of a Japanese invasion, Judy definitely recalls being fearful of the American soldiers stationed in Albert Park after the brutal murders committed by the 'brownout strangler' Edward Leonski. "I remember walking home in the dark after hockey practice, waving my hockey stick around me."

The biggest scare that year, however, was not from an American solider but from her brother.

"I remember coming home from school one day and going into my room as normal, but suddenly I saw a pair of feet sticking out from under my bed. I ran screaming from the room, only to learn it was my brother home on leave playing a trick on me."

There was still fun to be had during the war years. Judy's mother had a car and Judy can remember on special occasions, such as birthdays, travelling with her aunts and grandmother to spend the day out in the bush. During the summer, Judy and her mother would often spend a few weeks with family friends on the Mornington Peninsula. Judy also recalls once, on a very special occasion, going out to dinner at a hotel in St Kilda with her mother and a family friend who was in the navy.

By the time the war ended, Judy was 14 years old.

"I remember that day. I was at school when the news came and we finished early, and my friends and I all caught the tram into the city to join the celebrations. Everyone was so excited and the city was crowded with people singing and cheering."

Kay has lived on the same Port Melbourne street her entire life, despite moving house three times. Her father was born in South Melbourne and worked almost his whole career at Olympic Tyres.

Her parents were married at St Luke's Church in South Melbourne on 31 May 1941. The Sun News Pictorial published a photograph of the happy couple alongside another marriage that took place in London on the same day.

The headline – Blitz and Bliss Wedding – highlighted the extreme juxtaposition of the two couples, one standing outside the bombed ruins of a London church.

Kay was born a year later, and while she was too young to remember the war years herself, she has a strong recollection of family stories from the time.

Her father tried to join the war effort, first the air force and then the army, but he was rejected from both on account of his health. Undeterred, her father became a voluntary air raid warden, in charge of inspecting houses to ensure windows were properly blacked out, watching the skies and practicing air raid and fire drills in the event of an attack. Kay remembers seeing the gas mask and tin hat he used in the back of a cupboard growing up.

As the threat of an invasion from the Japanese grew, Kay's father decided he wanted to dig a shelter in his backyard to protect his family. Living in a tiny, typical four-room cottage in Port Melbourne at the time, the shelter was going to take up most of the backyard. Her father began digging while one of Kay's cousins was watching.

"My cousin kept trying to interrupt my dad and finally managed to get his attention just as he was about to put his pickaxe through the sewage pipe!"

Despite the near miss, Kay's father was determined to keep going. But upon seeing what he was doing, Kay's mother said she absolutely refused to use that shelter, even if bombs were dropping from the sky because it seemed so unsafe. After that, Kay's father gave up on the idea.

Kay had a cousin who was an artist. During the war, she went to work at the aircraft factory in Port Melbourne in the technical drawing department because of her artistic skill.

When the war was over, Kay recalls "seeing many returned servicemen with missing limbs around South Melbourne, probably because the prosthetics manufacturer was in Sturt Street, South Melbourne."

Kay had two uncles that served in the war, but like many men at the time they refused to discuss it when the returned. One had been a prisoner of war at Changi in Singapore.

Margaret grew up in St Kilda Junction where she lived with her parents and her nine siblings.

Her parents ran a confectionary store on Wellington Street and her family lived at the back of the store. The shop was across the road from the St Kilda football ground and, during the war, Margaret can remember trenches dug along the edge of the football ground.

These wide, deep, open air raid trenches were a feature of the landscape and remained there for some years after the end of the war.

Margaret was four years old when the war began, but like many children during this time, she grew up quickly.

Margaret can remember hearing about the Japanese submarine in Sydney Harbour. "That really scared us all."

With her family's shop located so close to the Albert Park barracks, it became popular with the American soldiers stationed there. Sometimes she would see search lights from the barracks criss-cross the sky at night looking out for enemy aircraft.

Margaret remembers her father was particularly concerned when the Americans arrived in St Kilda, thinking they might bring with them the infectious disease smallpox. She can recall getting a smallpox vaccine along with her sister, and she had the scar left on her upper arm for many years.

With such a large family to feed, life must have been challenging for Margaret's parents, but Margaret recalls, "mother always managed and made do. We had rationing of course, I remember tea and butter being rationed. I can also recall times when we had trouble with the supply of gas, and my mother having to do the washing outside at night time."

One of Margaret's jobs was to walk to Rubenstein's grocery store and purchase tinned fruit, a special treat that was in short supply during the war. She would take the pram with her youngest sibling along with her. Sunday nights the family would all gather around the kitchen table and listen to stories or plays on the radio. "That was real togetherness, a real treat."

On Saturday afternoons Margaret and her siblings would often go to the local Astor or Windsor Theatre to watch a matinee. She recalls sometimes seeing news about the war in the newsreels that would play before the feature. She has specific memories of seeing the Andrews Sisters in some of the features dressed in war-time uniforms. It was a memory that stuck with her because unlike most of her friends, Margaret really did not care for their singing!

Margaret attended St Mary's Primary School in St Kilda East.

"I can remember the day we were told the war was finished. We were let out to play and I remember jumping and running around the playground so happy."

Marlene was six years old when war was declared. She lived in Montague, South Melbourne with her mother, father, younger sister and grandparents.

Marlene's father worked at the Dunlop rubber factory and was unable to enlist in the army due to an injury he sustained as a child.

Marlene's mother was a weaver at Laconia Woollen Mills before she was married. When the war began, she was asked to return to work to make blankets for the war effort.

Like many families, Marlene's didn’t talk about the war at home. She and her sister remained blissfully ignorant of many of the dangers and horrors of the war.

Marlene attended Nott Street State School, and remembers knitting scarves for the war effort and taking part in practise drills for possible air raids, marching across to the trench behind the school.

While there were food shortages and rationing, Marlene's family were lucky to have an American uncle who brought them tins of chocolate, butter and Coca-Cola every now and then. But Marlene also recalls that there was lots of offal and lamb's fry on the menu at home.

She remembers when American troops first arrived in the area:

"I went up to Bay Street at lunchtime, from school, and I remember seeing all the American troops marching down Bay Street towards the Port Melbourne football ground. They were yelling out to the women on the street, 'Where are we?' because they had no idea where they had arrived!"

Almost all of the local Montague boys who were old enough enlisted in the armed forces. Marlene's uncle followed his friends and joined up, but quickly realised the war was not for him. He went AWOL (absent without leave) and was caught by the military police, spending the remainder of the war in a military prison.

When the local enlistees were leaving for the war, many took a train from Montague Station to Station Pier. Marlene remembers waving them off with her mother, as they threw down letters and notes from the train for their loved ones. She caught one and delivered it to the woman in South Melbourne it was addressed to.

One night in 1942, Marlene's father came home from a late shift. He told his wife not to turn on any lights and to follow him outside.

"Standing beneath the streetlight and looking up, I can remember seeing a plane fly over with a big red sun on the side. It flew over Dunlops and over the railway station, right over our house towards St Kilda. My father said, 'Don't tell anyone about this at school tomorrow'. Later we heard gun shots.

"It was not spoken about at the time, but a Japanese plane flew over Melbourne one night in 1942 and shots were fired at it from a rifle range in Altona."

Marlene did not find out about the bombing of Darwin or the attack on Sydney Harbour until years later. However, she has a distinct memory of going with her school to see a Japanese midget submarine on display at The Palms in Alexandra Avenue, Melbourne.

There was no time during the war years that Marlene felt scared or anxious. Her parents and grandparents worked hard to give her and her sister a carefree childhood. After the war ended, Marlene remembers going to the cinema and seeing a short newsreel that showed the evacuation of concentration camps in Europe. "It was just horrifying," she recalls, "the whole cinema was silent. We just had no idea what had been happening."

Mary was born in Albert Park in 1928, in a private hospital in Kerford Street. Her parents both came from outside the area but were married in Middle Park before moving to Albert Park.

Her father was the original curator of the South Melbourne tip, but he suffered from tuberculosis and died shortly after the war began in 1941.

Mary's mother worked as a tailoress. Mary was 11 years when the war started and grew up quickly. Her mother was very reliant on her, especially after her father died.

Mary attended the Brigidine Convent School in Albert Park and finished school in 1943. It was a rather abrupt ending. Mary recalls arriving at school one day and being told by the teacher that she had a job interview that afternoon.

"I went home and got changed, then caught the tram into Melbourne."

Mary was hired as a junior for a firm in Flinders Lane and began her working career at 15 years of age.

"I had to learn the job in a week because so many of the other staff members were going off to enlist in the air force and join the war effort."

Every Friday, Mary and her work colleagues would go and watch the soldiers marching along Swanston Street heading off to join the war. "We had little Australian flags we made to wave and cheer them along. It was quite exciting."

But there were challenges during the war years too. Rationing of tea, butter and sugar as well as fabric and clothing. Mary was lucky having a mother who was a tailoress. "She made all of my clothes, and during the war years, Mum would cut Dad's old socks down and sew them into new socks for me."

Whenever the air raid sirens went off, residents had to get off the streets and follow the orders of the air raid warden. "We had air raid shelters around the streets, but we never had to go into them." Mary remembers hearing about the murder in Albert Park and the rumours that it was committed by an American soldier. She also recalls when the Japanese bombed Darwin.

Mary caught the tram to and from work during the war years, but the day the war ended she walked all the way home from the city to Albert Park. "There were so many people dancing in front of Flinders Street Station that there were no trams in sight. I remember having to fight my way through the crowds to get home."

Mary's connection to war continued years later, when she met and married her husband Bob. Bob served in the war and spent time in Borneo, but Mary knows little of his experiences because he never talked with her about the war.

Pat Zangiacomi grew-up in Elwood with her mother, father and grandmother.

She was an only child and while her mother worked long hours in their family milk bar business, Pat was looked after by her grandmother.

Life in Elwood was much different then and there were corner shops on almost every street.

"I remember – growing up – seeing those shops, the milk bars, delis and grocers. Packages were packed in paper bags or tied up with string, and I can recall the delicious smells of ham, cheese and bread."

Pat also has fond memories of the draft horse and cart that would come by to collect the rubbish, and of Clarrie the baker and his horse and cart delivering fresh bread.

Pat's dog Paddy, an Irish terrier, would jump up into the cart, and sit behind the horse and ride along with the baker.

Attending the local picture theatre on a Saturday afternoon was very popular with the local children. Pat remembers the Saturday matinees at the Broadway Theatre in Elwood.

Pat was still a small child when World War Two began and her father went to work in Darwin as a carpenter, part of the civil engineering corps. He was there when Darwin was bombed in February 1942 and came home the following year very badly affected.

While she was told little of the events of the war, Pat still picked up on the tensions and anxieties of the adults around her. "I was very scared as a young child. I can remember hearing the drone of planes overhead and Mum saying it was only the seagulls. But I knew that it wasn't."

Like many families, the impacts of the war continued on in Pat's family, long after the last shot was fired.

Pat recalls trips with her grandmother and other family members to Western Port, where they explored the beaches still scarred with remnants of the war years, such as half buried barbed wire and exposed trenches. "I remember birds used to lay eggs in those trenches, blue eggs."

Pat was also given a memento of the war by a returned soldier, a Japanese silk handkerchief with a geisha on it.

Reg Macey was born in 1936 and was not quite three years old when World War Two began, but he still has a vivid memory of the day war was declared.

My parents and I were at Flinders Street Station. Paper boys were calling out 'Special Edition, Special Edition: war has been declared on Germany!' I was sitting on my dad's shoulders and dad said, 'oh not again.'

From then on, I was conscious of wireless broadcasts mentioning war.

Unlike many other young children who grew up during the war years, Reg's parents, and in particular his mother, discussed the war openly with him.

"When I asked my mother questions about what I had heard, she would get a Sun News Pictorial and try to connect that day's news with what I had just heard on the radio. Maps and photos were shown to me."

Reg's father worked as a fire protection engineer before the war, and once war was declared, he became the local air raid warden (ARW) for Montague. Reg has some very clear memories of his father demonstrating how to handle fires in their Montague neighbourhood.

"The demonstration was in the middle of the road in Buckhurst Street. It was a Sunday, late afternoon. My dad walked along the street with his warden's hat on and his ARW armband, blowing his special ARW whistle. A small fire was set in the street and Reg's father demonstrated how to put it out using buckets of sand and a special double action stirrup pump with water.

The day that victory was declared in the Pacific – VP Day – Reg remembers hearing all the sirens in Fishermans Bend going off, and cars, trucks and buses hooting their horns. He and his parents went into Melbourne by bus that evening and joined the enormous crowds of people singing and celebrating.

Back at school after VP Day, Reg remembers his teacher commenting that one day soon the only uniformed men they would see in the streets would be police or train and tram conductors. "To us as children, up until that point uniforms had seemed to always be everywhere."

Terry has lived most of his life in Port Melbourne. Born in 1933, he was just six years old when World War Two started, and yet still remembers a great deal about what life was like then.

Terry’s father worked at the Dunlop tyre factory in Montague, which was considered an essential occupation during the war. Terry’s mother took him aside one day and explained that his dad couldn’t enlist because of his job.

Terry remembers seeing searchlights in the sky at night, looking for enemy aircrafts. He and his friends enjoyed playing in the local air raid shelters, which were large, open-air trenches with wooden sides, at Crichton Reserve on the corner of Princes and Liardet streets. Terry’s father also dug a shelter in their backyard.

Terry never felt threatened or scared because of the war, but he does recall an overwhelming sense that the war was never going to end. At one stage, there was a possibility that he might be sent to the country to stay with another family. One day at school, Terry recalls, all the children were lined up and given a sack to take home to fill with clothes and toys, so they would be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

There were soldiers everywhere on the streets. Terry particularly remembers the American soldiers who occupied the Port Melbourne cricket ground. These larger-than-life men stuck in Terry's mind because he had previously only even seen Americans in films. The American soldiers always had chewing gum and Coca-Cola, and would often share these treats with the curious local kids.

Terry particularly remembers ration coupons and the shortages of certain foods.

"Being the eldest child, I was given the responsibility of running the messages. I would go to the shops to buy butter, bread and so forth. There were no supermarkets then, but lots of little corner shops.

"I've got a very strong memory of being sent to stay with my aunt, who was married to a fisherman in Queenscliff. I distinctly remember being embarrassed by the fact that my mother never sent any coupons with me. They were grumbling that I had no ration coupons. I still remember that."

Terry had two uncles that served in the war. One of them, Billy, lived with Terry and his parents. One day, when Billy was on leave but due to report back to camp, Terry was playing with his identity tags – sometimes known as dog tags – in the backyard.

"I was twirling them around and then I lost them over the fence next door. The next morning I was suddenly woken up to mayhem because my uncle couldn't find the dog tags. I was lying there scared because I had lost them, and I was afraid to admit it. Eventually, however, I knew I had to own up, and told him what had happened."

While Terry has no memory of the end of the war, he has a very clear memory of VE Day (Victory in Europe) the day that Germany surrendered, and war ended in Europe.

"I can remember climbing on the roof of the house and chalking V for Victory and being surprised that my Dad didn't stop me. There was a lot of joy and partying. But the war with Japan was still going, so it was just the end for Europe."

Thelma was born in 1926. As a young girl, she lived with her grandparents for a few years, who owned the Acland Laundry on Acland Street. Living with them above the shop, Thelma spent much of her childhood in St Kilda.

She remembers attending the opening of the St Kilda Sea Baths in 1931 and going to Luna Park to celebrate the 25th anniversary of its opening in 1937.

When World War Two started, Thelma was in her last years of school. Her father enlisted and went to serve in the Middle East, while Thelma and her stepmother remained in Malvern.

At the end of 1940, on the day that Australia declared it was at war with Japan, Thelma fell in love.

She was on the Weeroona paddle steamer crossing Port Phillip Bay from Sorrento to Queenscliff with her stepmother and a family friend she'd known for many years, Jack Aimers. Jack was 20 and training as an engineer at Point Nepean.

"I remember that day. We were crossing Port Phillip Bay, Jack was with us, having come from training grounds at Point Nepean. The band that was playing on the paddle steamer suddenly stopped and the captain announced that Australia was at war with Japan. That was the day we fell in love."

As it did to so many lives, the war interrupted the beginning of Thelma and Jack's life together. After the bombing of Pearl Harbour, Jack enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force (AIF) and served as a commander until the end of the war.

Thelma finished school and began working at the Victoria Barracks for the army typing pool in 1942. Thelma was just 15 when she started work. While there was a lot of demand for workers during the war, getting a job in the army was competitive. At Victoria Barracks Thelma worked on various assignments. From there she moved to a building on Queens Road where she worked in the war records unit adding captions to photographs.

When the army took over Wesley College she moved there to work. It was while Thelma was working at Wesley College that three women were murdered in Melbourne by a man the newspapers called the 'brownout strangler'.

"The thought of a Japanese invasion was a vague concept and hard to really think about. But knowing there was a murderer killing women in Albert Park and near where I lived, was very real and I was very uneasy about that. Because we worked long hours and would often leave after dark, the army would organise cars or taxis to take us home during that time."

Thelma moved into a house just off St Kilda Junction and spent a lot of her social time with friends in Fitzroy Street or at the West St Kilda Life Saving Club, where there was a dance every Saturday night. St Kilda was a popular entertainment area during the war with St Moritz ice skating rink, the Palais Theatre, Luna Park, the Palais de Danse and the Galleon coffee lounge.

Whenever she was invited to dinner parties during the war years, Thelma was always happy to take along one of her meat ration coupons for the host. "I didn't much like meat, so I was always happy to be able to share my meat ration coupons."

Thelma and Jack wrote letters to each other during the war and when he went missing in action, Thelma remembers going around to his parents' home and comforting his mother. Jack, luckily, was found.

Growing up in Montague during the 1930s and 1940s was a time of community and of neighbourhood solidarity. Thelma Edgar (nee Nixon) was one of seven sisters who grew up in Gladstone Street at this time. All the Nixon girls went to Nott Street Primary School, like many of the children in the area, and then to J. H. Boyd Domestic College.

Despite the fact that her parents and the other adults in the community tried not to talk about the war much in front of children, Thelma and her sisters knew what was going on. "You heard people talking, they thought you weren't listening, but you knew. Sometimes we didn't understand it all and we'd get frightened."

The community of Montague stuck together and supported each other. Thelma remembers that, even though residents weren't supposed to know when the troop trains were leaving Melbourne for Port Melbourne, the Montague community always knew and would put a log on the tracks to delay the train if there were local men on board. This was so they had a chance to say one last goodbye to their loved ones.

There were lots of local men from Montague who enlisted. "There was always a party put on for those who were leaving", recalls Thelma.

"We would sing soldiers' songs, It's a Long Way to Tipperary, songs like that. Sometimes someone would pretend they were leaving so they could have an excuse for a party! They were sad times, but a bit of fun as well."

Thelma's mother would put on a pot of pea soup every Sunday and any of the local men who came home from the training camp at Puckapunyal would drop by and visit. Thelma remembers her mother also regularly took packages of food and other comforts to the camps.

By 1942, all the children at Nott Street Primary School were given a haversack and advised to pack a change of clothes, toiletries and pyjamas, so they would be ready in case they were evacuated to the country at a moment's notice. Fortunately, things never reached that stage. But it was still hard living through the war years.

Thelma remembers, "when you saw the telegram boy coming down the road, you knew it was bad news." Many of the young men from Montague who left to fight in the war never returned home. "I can't forget the war years and what it was like for me as a child. It's always on my mind."