I WORKED FOR THE 5TH AIR FORCE

MAY, 1943 to MAY, 1944

by Dorothy Toten

Nov. 1996

At the time of my appointment to the Awards and Decorations Section many air crew passing through our office on the way to General Kenney were veterans who'd been stationed in the Philippines. The General pinned on their medals the day before they departed for the U.S.A. All these boys were his heroes and they deserved to be. The Coral Sea Battle awards were still being granted when I joined the staff so I was able to read many stories of heroism. It saddened me to discover that the Americans reported MISSING airmen who had been shot down over the sea with no hope of survival. Under similar circumstances the Australian authorities would have reported MISSING BELIEVED KILLED.

At first, we were housed in the old Courier Building, the site now occupied by the Commonwealth Bank on the corner of Queen and Edward Streets. This old building had an awning over Queen Street footpath which served as a viewing platform whenever there was a march down Queen Street. I remember watching a march (or stroll?) of American sailors from this vantage point, only to retire when I saw a few of their comrades sitting atop Ascot Chambers diagonally opposite, dangling feet over the side and bending forward. This was too much for anyone who suffered from acrophobia. The basement of this building was the site of the PX where we could buy a coke, hot doughnuts and other small items. Prince's nightclub occupied the lower ground floor with an entrance from Queen Street. It certainly was not fashionable and I remember the cracked cups which were common in Wartime. However, it had a good dance floor. Liquor was not allowed.

The officer in charge of our section was Major Joseph P. Sullivan M.A. (Harvard) who was 38 years of age at the time. I know this because he often said that he was allowed to retire from his civilian position in 12 years, counting the time he was serving in the Air Force. In civilian life, he was Head Master of a school for delinquent boys in New York State. The Major was kind and tolerant, quite the best boss I can remember in my many years of employment. He was proud of his wife, Viv, and their eighteen-months old son, Johnny, whose small shoe reposed on his desk. His mate, Major Eugene Swartzling (who he referred to as Gene) was in charge of the Personnel section and he was Major Sullivan's constant companion. It took me a while to realise that he was not meeting a girl named Jean in Anzac Square during lunch hours. Just prior to my appointment, Adrian Quist's wife worked at this office and I saw a snap showing the koala she had given to Johnny. (Adrian Quist was a leading Australian tennis player of the time.) Unfortunately, Major Sullivan left after some months to join the Inspector General's Department.

Warrant Officer Shinske was quite a character. He was not a Jew but had been away so long he said he regularly received Jewish mail. He told us he combed his hair each morning, sleeked it back, and it remained tidy for the rest of the day. In his football days this amazed his fellow clubmates. His phone rang at 11 a.m. sharp every day. All he said was "OK" and away he went to the Colony Club in Edward Street for coffee. Sometimes we followed him, preferring good coffee to the very strong coke served at the PX. Shinske had been a member of the permanent Air Force since 1925 and proudly proved it by placing an old group photograph in a prominent position on his desk. One day a Lieutenant of the same class arrived at the office and put his hat on Shinske's table. They had us in fits of laughter talking about the old days and particularly their reference to parachuting. (One stood on the left wing and the other on the right. Looking at one another, they both said "jump" and away they went.) When leaving the office, the lieutenant took Shinske's cap from behind the door. This prevented Shinske from going out to lunch as he couldn't be seen wearing an officer's cap. Later his friend returned to end his worries. One of his funniest tales was about getting caught up in a beer session at the old Grand Central Hotel in Queen Street. He was walking past when the doors opened and Aussie servicemen, who had been standing on the edge of the footpath, rushed forward carrying him to the front of the bar counter. As they passed full glasses of beer over his shoulder, they spilt some of the contents over him, adding to his dry-cleaning bill, but he took it all in good part.

Sergeant Richard Mangold, our hard-working member, was from Pittsburgh. Over Saturday lunch at Rowe's cafe, he used to show me pictures of his city, referring to the benefactors who had been responsible for the many attractive buildings donated by them. He shared my interest in music and recalled family musical evenings at home. His hobby was his collection of fine china which was expanded by articles he found in Brisbane's second-hand shops. I liked his quiet sense of humour and greatly appreciated his support. He handled citations after they had been confirmed for awards by General Kenney's office.

Then there was Corporal Charles Bowers from Gadsden, Alabama. He handled .... destruction of aircraft. His slow drawl was fascinating and his pleasant smile endeared him to all in the office. The Major used to ask him his name just for the fun of hearing him answer "B-ah-rs". When the Major said "That's Bars", Charles would reply "That's what I said."

Charles and I shared company for the evening meal on the occasions when I was on my way to singing lessons in King House. The American dining rooms for servicemen were located in the old Town Hall Arcade (now part of Lennons
Hotel) .

When I first joined the staff, Corporal Malmquist had the job of condensing stories for awards, also handling application for Officers Candidate School. His Swedish upbringing was reflected in his tidiness of person and desk. He admitted he had no respect for anyone under the rank of Colonel, a position held by his father in the regular army. I believe he was brought up in military surroundings. He had a great love of bananas which he demonstrated by eating a bagful one evening while we were working overtime. I thought of him as coldly calculating and was not surprised to learn he'd adopted a friendly attitude towards other candidates while at Officers' Candidate School until they'd all voted on one another. When he knew he'd been voted an officer, he immediately became cold towards the other class members. I heard he'd been appointed an aide to a high-ranking officer, so he'd got what he wanted.

Mrs Heath, from Adelaide, was employed in the office when the section was housed in the old Courier building. She and her friends occupied a house at Doomben where she held parties when her husband, a member of the A.I.F., was on leave from Burleigh. Those invited were from different parts of the World - British, American and Australian who appreciated the chance to hear about other cultures. One of Mrs Heath's fellow tenants, Joy (This was Joyce Irene Ackroyd), was employed to translate Japanese diaries captured up north on the battlefields. After a University course in Japanese, she had undertaken an eighteen-months military course in Japanese which was enough to earn her a position overseas, but she preferred Brisbane.

There was a Flight Officer attached to our office - his name escapes me - but I do remember he owned a department store in Chatanooga (sic Chattanooga) so felt competent enough in his field to chastise me for wearing stripes 'running down' when he considered I was too tall to have vertical stripes. As a glider pilot, he expected to join his fellow pilots when they were transferred north, but was very disappointed when held in Brisbane because of his administrative abilities. He made a prophetic comment to me on reading of the sad death of a serviceman in a Brisbane accident. He said "Wouldn't it be terrible to die here and not see service in the War." Shortly afterwards, he fell down a flight of stairs here while attending a party to farewell his fellow glider pilots and he died as a result. The Major had the distressing job of contacting his next-of-kin and arranging the return of his effects.

The basement of the old Courier Building housed the PX where Coca-Cola was sold - a more potent brew than the current popular drink. Hot doughnuts were available and other small items of sweets etc. Some of us preferred the excellent coffee brewed by the Colony Club, a popular restaurant in Edward Street. This place always fascinated me as it had customers from all over the World. I just loved to sit there and look at them. One uniformed-American had the unusual name of Bede (His real name was Brydon Taves) ---- on his briefcase. Later I read where he'd married one of our leading actresses, Diana Parnham (see link below – They married in St. John’s Cathedral, Brisbane in May 1943). He was a newspaper correspondent who was later killed in New Guinea (Killed on 26 Dec 1943).

We were moved to the third floor of AMP Building. After I'd been in the job a few months, entering from Edward Street and using the lifts to the right of the entrance, except for the one nearer the door which was used by General MacArthur. I saw him once only when he walked out with his head down, looking neither to right nor left. A box in the centre of the foyer was occupied by the building's receptionist, a well-known Australian socialite whose Chanel No. 5 perfume provided a bit of glamour. She later received an appointment as Captain in the W.A.A.C.'s (sic WACs). Another appointee with the rank of Lieutenant was General Kenney's secretary, Mrs Stevenson, a highly-competent officer.

General Kenney's office on the fourth floor was the scene each afternoon of the very important ceremony of the pinning on of Air-crews' medals by the General himself prior to their departure home to the States. Mrs Stevenson checked all recommendations for Awards with Intelligence Section to ensure authenticity. She had a good sense of humour. Sergeant Mangold showed me one citation which had been presented three times. Air Crew had submitted it the first and second times before leaving Australia and had later embellished the story and sent it from Fort Worth for a final try for Awards. Mrs Stevenson wrote at the foot of this recommendation:-

"In the words of your famous General Forrest 'I tol' ya twice - Goddamit no!'"

When we moved to the AMP I tried to get a window position, but our new officer-in-charge, Lieutenant Wood from Texas, had the three windows set aside for the Warrant Officer, the Sergeant and himself. Later I was glad I missed out. The smoking chimney of a restaurant opposite in Edward Street gave the Lieutenant a long drycleaning bill.

Our staff was joined by Sergeant McNeilly who wrote stories of casualties. My Christmas with the Air Force was saddened by the sight of lovingly-prepared parcels meant for men killed at that time. Sergeant McNeilly had stored a few of them under his desk.

Another newcomer to our group was Kay O'Neill who worked with me, typing information in connection with Awards. We used blue cards from the officers' section and pale yellow cards from the enlisted mens' section. Kay had been reared in U.S. and later married a U.S. serviceman, returning to Oregon at the end of the war.

After Malmquist left for Officers' Candidate School, I was given his job of condensing stories for Awards, length depending on the rating of the Award. An Air Medal story occupied a few lines, a D.F.C. warranted a longer paragraph while a Silver Star Award occupied more space. I can remember one Congressional Medal of Honour (highest award) being awarded posthumously to a Major who lost his life over Rabaul when he attracted the fire of Japanese warships in order to allow his fellow pilots to return to base.

Lieutenant Wood, successor to Major Sullivan, usually checked stories I had condensed for General Orders but failed on one occasion to notice my use of the word "whilst" until it was published. He asked me what it meant. I said "the same as while." Sergeant Mangold was asked to read the meaning given in their gospel, the Webster Dictionary. It gave "whilst - the same as while, generally used by the British." It caused much amusement but I don't think Wood appreciated the joke. He was later promoted to Captain.

Another regular task allotted to me was the typing of twelve copies (a ribbon and eleven carbon copies) of a cable listing the ten leading Fighter Pilots for each week. Names disappeared and others moved up the list from week to week but one name remained high up - Richard Item (sic Ira) Bong. He was the leading Fighter Pilot credited with shooting down forty enemy planes. We were very excited when he appeared in our office at the conclusion of his service in this theatre. Wearing a plain leather jacket with his name embossed on it, he was inconspicuous among his fellow air crew and fighter pilots who arrived that day. I'm sure General Kenney was proud to pin his many decorations on his jacket as he had earned many oak-leaf clusters to Air Medals and D.F.C.s as well as higher, awards. I had heard that he would not marry his fiancee until the completion of his tour of duty. Also heard that he was killed test-piloting a plane in the U.S. (Richard Ira Bong was killed on 6 Aug 1945).

Other names I can remember were Major Lynch and Colonel Kearby. I heard the Major was killed when he parachuted from one hundred feet but the Colonel had a chance of survival when he landed the plane in front of Japanese headquarters.

I can't remember the name of the friendly sergeant from the Personnel section who handled our pay but I remember meeting him in Queen Street after his tour of duty in New Guinea. He told me that Wood, the Captain in charge of our office, had bucked McNeilly to private. That was not surprising news as McNeilly was the cleverer of the two. I was also sad to hear that Sergeant Mangold was affected by conditions in New Guinea.

Regular visitors to our office were from the Officers' and Enlisted Men's sections who were looking for index cards which we had to get up to date before returning Airmen were decorated by General Kenney.

Tommy and W.O. Whipple were frequent visitors from the Officers' section. Whipple came on Saturday mornings (usually with a mournful expression on his face) to pay our Captain when he lost bets on the Friday night fights held at the old Stadium. Tommy brought news of the day from the various offices.

The enlisted men's section was located near our office in a larger room. Several 16 year old girls were employed there as file clerks. Their conversation often betrayed their interest in American sailors.

We worked six days a week from 8.30 till 5.30 p.m. I was offered either Christmas Day or New Year's Day as my special day off. No one had heard of Boxing Day. They asked me whether it meant boxing bouts were held then. (Very few Australians would have known it was the day on which Christmas boxes were supposed to arrive.)

My two sisters worked for the U.S. Army. Eunice was secretary to Colonel Crehan who was in charge of U.S.S.O.S. located at Somerville House. The Entertainment Units passed through here. Eunice said the girls were thrilled to see Gary Cooper whom they judged better looking off the screen than on it. Helen Hayes was another name she mentioned.

My younger sister, Flo, worked for the Medical Section in the old Courier Building.

Both my sisters died in their forties.