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There are many things to relate in regard to my side of the Dundon family including stories and events sent to me by family members as well as the ones I remember from my early days. They may not be in chronological order but they happened just the same.
I can recall the Sunday drives in the family car. The first being a 1927 Chevrolet, into which dad used to load all the food and clothing and anything else that would fit onto the running boards of the car, and all  secured by an expandable device fitted to the car. For reasons not known to me we generally ended up at Windsor and walked through the cemetery to see who could find the oldest grave ( Would you believe I still do that but only for family history research?) Sometimes we would drive to Bulli and  would travel down Bulli Pass in low gear with the handbrake half on and come back up in reverse gear with the radiator half empty. How things have changed!
Every now and then we would be taken to Uncle Steve's poultry farm at North Ryde where we would help (or hinder) to stamp the eggs with the Sunrise egg stamp and pack them into wooden boxes.  On special Sundays we visited Aunt Lizzie at Drummoyne for lunch.  They had the biggest kitchen table I've ever seen and lunch was generally held in 2 -3 sittings. You had to be quick in case you missed out. I don't recall ever going hungry at their house.
My Dad had a passion for running over things lying on the road, and I recall one day driving along Victoria Road Ryde at Devlin Street, when he saw a newspaper parcel on the road and immediately steered towards it. Despite a warning from my eldest brother Syd, he hit the parcel and to his dismay and disbelief it contained two empty beer bottles and the impact punctured a tyre. Now my Dad was well versed in the art of profanity but that day I heard words that I have not heard since, about someone who would be silly enough to leave a parcel like that on the road.
During the war years of 1939 - 1945 beer was almost non existent. Some hotels opened for only 2 - 4 hours a day and the last hour was devoted to selling beer only. Dad always carried a chaff bag containing 6 empty quart bottles (with spring seal caps) and a funnel with tube attached. He would order beer at the bar and pour it into the funnel and fill his beloved quarts for the weekend. This was highly illegal as well as dangerous for if discovered you would be banned from the pub and not served again. You would then have to find another pub that would be willing to serve you as they only looked after their own regulars.
Ken Hughes also recalls when my Dad and Uncle Fred took Ken's parents and Ken on a drive past Narrabeen Lakes about 1932. Dad was driving an old Ford when he came across two young ladies riding bicycles. They did not hear him approach and when he was close behind them he sounded his horn. The girls took fright and fell off their bikes amid a tangle of arms and legs, sending Fred and dad  into  fits of laughter, but Ken's Mum, Aunt Teeny, called her two brothers  everything she could lay her tongue to while Ken's Dad covered Ken's ears to stop him hearing the language that nice ladies should not use.
Our next two cars were Buicks, the first a 1928 tourer and the other a silver anniversary model sedan which we kept for many years. During the war years when petrol was rationed, (I think we were allowed about 4 gallons per month,) Dad heard about a mechanic at Pyrmont who could fit shale oil burners to cars and eliminate the need for petrol. The next Saturday morning Dad Syd and myself, who was always first into the car despite the destination, set off for Pyrmont and learnt that the mechanic " was across the road having a quiet beer. "Dad set off to find him and about an hour later Syd went off to find both of them. All three returned about 3.30 the mechanic not fit to start the job and Syd in a similar state, but Dad looked and acted as though he had just arrived on the scene and was cursing that some people just couldn?t handle drink. The device was later fitted by another mechanic.
Dad was helping his brother Fred at his market stall one time and Fred invited him to his home in Bouvadia street Fivedock for tea. After a couple of beers on the way they arrived at Fred?s home to be greeted by his wife Ruby and their dog Sammy. Dad, Fred and the dog settled in front of the fire until Ruby had the meal ready, but when she called them for dinner there was no response and when she looked into the lounge room she found that all three were fast asleep in front of the fire. She walked down to the corner shop and purchased a string of Tom Thumb crackers, took them back, threw them into the fire and disappeared into the kitchen. The dog went hysterical, Fred and Dad cursed and swore, but all was well, Ruby said all she wanted was some company. They all had a good laugh and Ken said even the dog had a grin!!
During this period Dad and my brother Syd worked at The Colonial Sugar refining Company at Pyrmont, both in the engineering trade. My Dad was operating a huge metal planing machine working on tank components while Syd was working mainly on gun barrels. They worked very long hours on shift work and we did not see a lot of them in this period. One of the family would always go and pick one or both of them up in the family car after a late shift, sometimes at midnight or even later. I remember Syd telling me that Dad would often go to the toilet at work and there was one of his workmates who would always sling off at the number of times Dad got the call. He would always say to him as he left the workshop " bring one back for me Mick ". One night he did bring one back, wrapped in newspaper and placed it in this blokes jacket pocket in his locker. The saying was never heard again in that workshop!!
Reg Cuff who had just purchased a Marmon motor car picked Dad up one night after work and driving back through King Street  at St. Peter's station the wheels locked onto the tram tracks and the car became completely unsteerable. As we were fast approaching a stationary tram Reg applied the brakes , but all that happened was a big slide followed by a sickening crunch as the Marmon ploughed into the coupling of the tram. The tram driver who was unaware that he had a Marmon for an exhaust pipe, took off when signalled by the conductor and left us sitting in a huge cloud of steam from the damaged radiator.
Towards the end of the war one of my sisters was going out with a soldier who was camped at Homebush Abattoirs and he was pretty keen on her, and to get himself in the good books with my parents he would always turn up with a tin of butter or jam or other foodstuff and of course it would always have that familiar brand on the containers "DD". Occasionally he would turn up with a roughly dressed sheep in a sugar bag.  Mum would always panic and we would have to eat it very quickly in case we were caught. Mum was cooking one day when an army convoy pulled up outside our house and a great big army truck backed into our yard and dropped a load of firewood, there must have been about 8 tons, and for the rest of the week the kids were kept busy checking to see if the wood had been branded with the dreaded "DD" stamp.
My brother Christopher(Dick) was the only member of our family to serve in the forces during the second world war. My older brother Syd was medically unfit for service and worked in a protected industry making gun barrels as mentioned earlier in this book. Dick served from February 1942 until his discharge in June 1946. He was posted to a motor ambulance convoy as a driver mechanic and served in many areas in New Guinea and the surrounding islands bringing the wounded from the field dressing stations back to the advanced hospital units.(what Americans call MASH units). It took forty years to get information out of him and what I have is very limited. His mode of transport was an American Jeep fitted out with two stretchers across the back. He told me he was stopped by some Papuan Natives one day when one of their tribe had been hit with a Japanese grenade and his rib cage had gone. The natives insisted that the man should be taken to the hospital or else, so against better judgment he loaded the fellow(now dead) on to the jeep and took him in. The officer at the hospital gave Dick the best dressing down of his life and reminded him that military personnel only were to be picked up. He judged that to be the lesser of the two evils as the natives would have killed him if he had not carried out their wish. The officer obviously had not heard of the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels and their deeds.
The Japanese had little respect for the ambulance corps. At night they would cross the river with hand grenades fitted on the end of long sticks and with string attached would place the grenades under the tent flaps of the sleeping men and pull the string to release the grenade pin. Thankfully Japanese technology was not as advanced then as it is today, as many a man woke to find an unwelcome device near his stretcher.
I clearly remember a letter from Dick after the surrender where he stated that the Japs were good prisoners and gave no trouble, in fact he stated he had one prisoner doing his washing for him and even shaving him every morning, Mum sat straight down and wrote back and told him not to trust any of the Japs because they would cut his throat, " so stop letting them shave you."  Of course the letter took a couple of months to reach us and the reply would have taken just as long to get back to Dick.
He sailed from Rabaul on the ship "Westralia" on May 2nd 1946 which was bringing home to Australia one of the last batch of wounded from the islands campaigns. I am not making him out to be the great warrior or anything remotely related, but simply pointing out he did what most other servicemen did, just what had to be done, and it took 40 years to get this much information so I am not wasting it.
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