Brian Dudley - England to Australia: Success or Failure?

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The 10th of January 1953 was undoubtedly the most important day of my life, as Barbara and I walked down the aisle, both just 21years of age. It not only made me the proudest and happiest man alive, but also I suspect from that day forward, one of the most confident, knowing that all the support and inspiration I ever needed, would forever be right there beside me. Beautiful with brown sparkling eyes, natural wavy curly hair, petite and unassuming, Barbara was not only my wife, she was everything, I was indeed most fortunate.

Most keen to leave school at the first opportunity Barbara commenced her working life as a shop- assistant at the age of 14 years. However, after eighteen months she then decided upon office work and qualified as a copy-typist with the Abbey National Building Society in central London. This change of occupation eventually to lose its appeal, Barbara returned to the world of sales, where she quickly found herself in charge of the bread, cakes and confectionary department of the R.A.C.S. at an incredibly young age. Extremely happy with her working life, Barbara was even happier when she proudly gave birth to our first born son Stephen, in 1954 to become a very loving, devoted, full time Mum. Alan to follow some 22 months later, our family became even more complete with the arrival of Benita in 1960.

In February 1957 with my Royal Navy career thankfully at an end, unfortunately extended by some four months due to the Suez Canal crisis, I happily exchanged my Petty Officer Electricians uniform for one worn by a Constable in Londons Metropolitan Police. An occupation I found altogether refreshing, rewarding and full of excitement, the only downside were those three weeks of continuous night duty every six weeks. Walking the streets alone in the early hours, during the freezing cold of winter, invariably found me thinking of emigrating to somewhere a hell of a lot warmer.

Forever in the public eye, Australias 10 assisted-passage scheme for each adult, with children given a free passage, the glorious lifestyle it promised, merely confirmed exactly what I had been told some years earlier by a former shipmate.

In 1951 whilst serving aboard the aircraft carrier H.M.S. Glory the crew were invited to spend their rest period away from the Korean conflict, visiting the cities of Australia. However, four of us by then having completed the statutory two years with the Far-East Fleet, we suddenly found ourselves given the option of either transferring to another man-of-war at Singapore heading for home, or volunteering to stay onboard for the duration of the forthcoming cruise around Australia, and then being sent home immediately afterwards, prior to the carrier once again returning to Korean waters. Three of us not willing to trust the Navys promise, we asked to be sent home at the earliest opportunity whereas Geordie decided to accept the cruise as promised. A chance meeting with the man some months later revealed, not only had the Navy kept its promise, but so impressed had he been with Australia, and the weather, he had since asked to be transferred into their Navy. Not something I attached too much value to at the time, nevertheless this surely had to be the occasion when the Australian-seed was first planted, albeit unknowingly.

No longer in uniform pounding the streets, but instead an Aide to the Criminal Investigation Department concentrating on crime alone and enjoying the challenge at every level, I was also most fortunate to find myself highly regarded by the more experienced permanent detectives. Nevertheless, despite the wonderful experience, those most favourable reports and some manoeuvring on my behalf by some high ranking officers, clearly suggesting a most promising career could become my ultimate reward. The long, bitterly cold winter of 1962/63 changed everything.

Barbara forever aware I firmly believed a warmer climate would undoubtedly be of benefit, especially to the three children, Stephen nine years and said to be of grammar school potential by his teachers, Alan seven years and Benita just two-and-a-half. She was nonetheless totally bewildered by this latest but more serious suggestion of emigration, calmly announcing that whilst she could understand my reasons some five years earlier, when we had absolutely nothing and virtually penniless. We were now the owners of a beautiful three bed semi fitted with all modern conveniences like a fridge, washing machine, a spin-dryer, central heating and even a family car, just three years old and me with a most promising career in an occupation I absolutely loved. Progress beyond our wildest dreams, both domestically and work-wise, it became a good case for NOT emigrating to Australia, when even the experience of Barbara and Stephen joining me on the Mediterranean island of Malta for five months in 1955 with all that sun sea and sand could persuade her otherwise. Thankfully at long last to at least agree to visit Australia House in London for an overall picture of what we were missing out on, although still far from convinced, Barbara finally decided to rely upon my judgement and enthusiasm instead.

A true honest account of a young familys emigration to Australia in May 1963, and the devastating effect it had as reality replaced the fantasies otherwise presented by Australia House in London when promoting the 10- assisted passage scheme. Unable to finance an immediate return due to the two years domicile penalty clause, after an agonising six weeks we chose to become homeless, rid ourselves of a slum and those demoralising, dilapidated shacks on stilts, otherwise known as the local property market, and head for Adelaide, South Australia, one thousand miles away. The first monumental step of a most traumatic journey it would take over four years to complete, and would include a disastrous encounter with the hostile desert of the Nullarbor Plain, a separation from the family by some 2,700 miles as I struggled for eight months and three days to earn five return tickets to England, amongst the desolate wilderness of the North West Cape, encountering the most hostile human behaviour. It was no wonder our earnings were completely tax free.

Prior to Australia:

My most sincere thanks go to:

Detective Superintendent Fred Bayfield, and Detective Sergeant John Callen, first for the Metropolitan Police Commissioners commendation I received, as well as laying the foundations on my behalf for what was said would become a most promising career as a C.I.D. officer.

In Australia:

The Engineer at Philips for his total support, Alex, my fellow electrician for his encouragement throughout my probation period as a maintenance electrician.

The Commandant at the South Australian Police Academy, the Drill Sergeant for giving me the opportunity, when others had considered age as an absolute disqualification, despite my previous London Met experience.

North West Cape, Western Australia:

The Head Chef and kitchen staff for their continuous support during the strike, as well as that of Little Jocks at the end of it, and of course my room-mate Fred from Fulham.

Wally for his most loyal friendship, his wonderful family and friends for that initial welcome back into civilisation celebration on my behalf.

Bob of H.G.International for his understanding and concern during those final weeks on The Cape.