Douglas (Doug) Hitchon

Ship name / Flight number: SS Iberia

Arrival Date: 05/05/1961

I was born a couple of months after World War II in Honeysuckle Lane, Middlesex, London. I recently discovered that all the government offices were bombed, as well as my family home, which is why I didn’t have a birth certificate until about 1953. As kids, we used to play in the bombed-out buildings. We’d build things from the rubble. Looking back, it was a dangerous thing to do but as long as I was home before dark, my parents didn’t really care.

I have an older sister, Molly, and a younger sister, Joyce. I have two much older brothers from my father’s first marriage. One of them, Peter, migrated to Australia and I lived with him when I first came to Australia with the BBM.

My Mum died suddenly of leukemia when I was nearly ten years old. It really altered my life, and that of my younger sister. My father worked in the army and he couldn’t get home in time to look after us, so he re-married someone who was about 15 years younger than him with the expectation that she would look after us. I fell out with Margaret immediately, because she asked us to call her ‘mum’. I was still grieving for my real mother, and I didn’t want some interloper replacing her. I can see now that I was a complete and utter ratbag. I did some dreadful things to Margaret, like stealing money from her purse and putting it in my dad’s coat pocket to try and make my father turn against her.

My stubborn hostility to her presence in our home resulted in me being sent to a boarding school for maladjusted children in Dorset. There were lots of children from broken homes there. On my very first day, I had a choice of initiation rites: I could either have my head flushed down a toilet or eat a raw pigeon egg. I choose the raw pigeon egg but someone slapped my chin as soon as I put it in my mouth which forced me to swallow it, shell and all. Unfortunately, it was a fertilised egg, and the thought that I’d swallowed a pigeon foetus left me with an awful feeling in my stomach, as well as the indigestion that came with the egg!

My new school felt more like an army camp. We marched here, there and everywhere, including two miles to church and back on Sundays. It was freezing in the winter in our uniform of short trousers and leather shoes, which would get soaking wet in the snow.

My Dad only came to visit me twice in the three years I was there. The first time was because he’d heard that I’d won a long distance running race and he wanted to see for himself. I came second in the next race. The next time was when he drove me back to school after my third attempt at running away.

I never sat for any exams because the emphasis was on authoritarian discipline, not scholastic achievement. I was introduced to cigarettes at school, and the third time I was caught smoking, I was kicked out at the age of 14 years and 10 months. However, it made me who I am today, because I had to learn to stand up for myself.

Doug Hitchon in 1961

I went to live with my father and step-mother who had moved to Broadstairs in Kent. It was a very pretty place on the coast. They had opened a palliative care home for people who were about to die. For a 15 year old like me, and my 12 year old sister, it was a dreadful place to live, because people whom you saw in the morning weren’t necessarily there in the afternoon.

I worked in a grocery shop in Broadstairs for about 8-9 months and fell out with my stepmother again. This probably contributed to my father’s decision to send me to Australia with the BBM. The first time I knew of this plan was when he took me to Australia House for a medical examination. I was so naïve, that I mistook Australia for Austria!

My father saw me board the SS Iberia in 1961, gave me his duffle coat, waved when he saw me on deck, then turned his back on me and walked back up the slope from the dock. I didn’t see him again until 1977 when I came back to visit London. He hadn’t changed. Even thought I was now 32 years old, if I wasn’t home by 10pm he’d lock me out. I had to stay with the kind lady across the road a couple of times.

I seemed to get into trouble without trying. I was beaten up on the SS Iberia by one of the Scottish passengers and spent a couple of days in sick bay recovering. In Colombo, I caught a taxi to a lookout with three other Little Brothers. The taxi driver told us to get out and enjoy the view, and then drove off because we’d already paid our fare back to the port. We would have missed the boat if some other sightseers hadn’t come to our rescue.

I remember that an entrepreneurial salesman paddled up to our boat and offered to dry clean our suits for a small price. This sounded like a good idea but they wanted payment up-front. I handed over my suit and my cash and saw neither again. When I arrived in Australia, I only had short trousers and a shirt!

When we sailed into Sydney, I was disappointed because there were no kangaroos. My older brother, Peter, came to meet me and took me back to his house in Telopea, which was then on the outskirts of north-west Sydney. In 1961, the great western highway was a dirt road with one lane each way!

Peter got me a job at Flemings, a grocery chain that was bought by Woolworths. This led to a close encounter with the police. Unbeknown to me, the groceries that I loaded into my manager’s car every Saturday were not being delivered to other customers as he told me, but were being stolen! I was lucky that I wasn’t charged with aiding and abetting a crime. The new manager sacked every one at the store and with no other options I went to the BBM training farm.

It was savage getting up at 4am to collect the cows and then milk them. I wasn’t familiar with using a copper to wash my clothes and accidentally let the water boil dry. When I came back to them, they were ruined. I only had the clothes I was wearing and one other shirt. I was so naïve and not prepared for the adult world.

After three weeks at the training farm, I was called into the office with another Little Brother and we were told that one of us could go to a farm near Condobolin and the other to Dirnaseer. I had no idea where either place was, so I let him choose first. I got lucky and went to Dirnaseer, which is only 17 miles (42 Kilometres) south-east of Temora in the NSW Riverina. When I arrived at Temora station, I was collected by an old lady in a horse and sulky! Elsie McRae drove us over bone-shaking, corrugated dirt roads to the ‘Westfalls’ farmhouse. When we eventually arrived, I was shown my room in an asbestos shack.

Elsie made sure I was up at 5am every morning. On my first day, I went into the shearing shed and I was told to skirt the wool. I had no idea what that meant! I soon learnt to collect the fleeces, throw them onto the table and pull out all the burrs and grass seeds around the outside of the wool. I was also the tar boy, which was an awful, awful job. If a sheep was cut by the shearers, I had to string them up by their back legs and sew up the wound and then put hot tar on the wound to seal it. The sheep hated it – they would buck and cry out in pain. I cried and I cried and I cried, but I still had to do it.

I earnt two shillings and sixpence every week plus my board. I was well fed, with lamp chops or bacon and eggs for breakfast every morning. It was good food, but it still got boring.

One day I accidentally knocked over a drum of oil and Elsie docked me three months’ pay. It felt harsh, but there was nothing to spend my money on anyway! We went to town once a month on a Wednesday. I’d get my hair cut and buy a milkshake.

I spent three weeks in a 300 acre paddock with a hoe and a horse and sulky cutting out the Bathurst Burrs. By the time I got to the end, the burrs had started growing again where I’d started. In the evenings, I’d plough the fields in a tractor. It was hard work for a 15 year old.

Elsie, or ‘Ol’ Ma McRae’ as we called her, was the hardest working woman I have ever known. One day, when she was drenching the sheep, a ram came running through the gates and tore her dress off with its horns. She was left in her bloomers and humungous bra but continued working and did another 80 sheep to fill the truck before going inside to get dressed.

I found out later that her husband had been gassed in the first World War and she had been given a soldier settlement block of around 1000 acres. She was farming it herself, with about 500 sheep, wheat, oats. Perhaps that’s partly why she was so ruthless.

I remember the day her daughter came to visit with her 7 year old son. I offered the little boy a baby rabbit that had escaped from its burrow when all the other rabbits had been poisoned. When Ol’ Ma McRae heard about this, I had to hand over the wee bunny that I was keeping warm inside my jumper, and instead of giving it to her grandson, she took it by its back legs and smashed its head against the gatepost in front of all of us. It destroyed me again. It was a hard life.       

Every week, I’d go to the letterbox to collect the mail, hoping there would be a letter for me. The first letter that arrived was from my stepmother. My father didn’t write. For the first few months I was lonely, really lonely. There were no kids my age. My brother Peter came to visit me once, but only because he was a rep. for Carnation Milk and he happened to be in Temora for work.

After I’d been working on her farm for 12 months, Elsie put my breakfast on the table one morning and told me that she could no longer afford to keep me and that she would be taking me to the station today. She gave me 15 shillings in holiday pay but when I went to give her a hug goodbye, she turned away. I had no idea where I was going to live or what I was going to do.

It would cost me eight shillings to buy a train ticket back to Sydney. I didn’t want to go back to Peter’s place because he had three daughters now. I thought it might be better to save the fare and try and find some work locally. The station master turfed me out when he locked up at the end of the day, and I wandered down the main street. I noticed that the Anglican church was open so I decided I’d sleep on a pew. There was an organ in the church, and I tried to play it. This roused the deacon, who came to see who was creating all the noise. When he heard that I didn’t have a home to go to, he took me in.

That guy was my saviour. He let me stay with his family, bought me some clothes from the second hand shop, some shoes that were too big for me, and got me a job at a BMC dealership cleaning the floor. The British Motor Corporation dealer sold Morris and Austin cars and spare parts as well as American Chryslers and a French car called Simca.  I learnt how cars are put together by watching the mechanics. I progressed to selling spare parts, and then I was allowed to do a mechanics course.

I met my first wife at a general store that I went to often. When we started going out, I learnt that she was in a cult, where women were treated as a lesser person, or at least that was my understanding. She wanted to get out, which motivated her to marry me. I was lonely, and I wanted a family. Everybody else in Temora lived with their families and I wanted that too.

Doug Hitchon, 1963.

I didn’t earn much money at BMC and I was sliding into debt because I couldn’t afford to pay my rent and basic living expenses I got a job on the railways, first as a call boy waking drivers so they were not late for work, then as an engine stoker (fireman), then as acting driver where I earnt £14/fortnight. I managed to pay off my £600 debt and save some money for a house deposit. We bought an acre of land outside Temora with an asbestos barn on it and had our first two children there. I often worked night shift on the railways, but my wife didn’t like being at home by herself overnight in an isolated location, so I quit and went back to BMC.

I managed to pay our mortgage off before the BMC dealership was shut down. My next job was with Waltons, based in Griffith. They had a large catalogue with all manner of goods and groceries and I was a door-to-door salesman. After 12 months, I won the best salesman in NSW! I didn’t do anything special, but most of my customers had paid for their orders. I won a week’s holiday for my family in Queensland. It was the first time I had been patted on the back and rewarded. It felt good.

When I returned from my holiday, Waltons wanted me to move to Blacktown. I didn’t know where it was, except it was in the city. We found a place to rent, but it was full of fleas. We got bitten every night. My area was a large swathe of western Sydney out to Windsor and St Marys. There was lots of new council houses in the area and everyone wanted to buy new carpets and curtains from the Waltons catalogue. I won another holiday! However, when it came time to collect their payments, very few people paid up. I was called into the office and sacked.

I contacted my brother, Peter, and he knew a bloke who worked at the Peek Frean Biscuit factory in Ashfield. I got a job selling biscuits to corner stores in western Sydney and once again, I topped the sales list. When Arnotts bought them out in 1975 and I lost my job.

Once again, my brother came to the rescue. He’d met a bloke on the Manly ferry who was looking for a mechanic. He told him I was a mechanic, which wasn’t true. Despite this, I went to Reg Day’s place in Wentworthville and passed his test of taking the brakes off a car and putting them back on again. He gave me a job and started giving me more complicated engine repairs, which I taught myself to do, but I was too slow, because I was learning as I went.

Luckily, his garage was behind a BP service station and I picked up casual work filling cars with petrol, which led to a full-time job. One night, I was locking up at midnight and about 20 members of the Hells Angels Motorcycle group pulled into the garage. I was terrified. They helped themselves to petrol, icecreams, and cigarettes. I was wondering how I was going to explain this to the boss if I survived. I got the shock of my life when they all lined up at the counter, told me what they’d taken and paid up.

Diagonally across the road from the service station was another BMC dealer. The owner asked me to come and sell cars with him on the weekend, and then I started working for him full-time. I was back in sales, which I was good at.

I was earning some real money now, and I bought my first home at McGrath’s Hill, near Windsor. I remember the flood of 1977. I couldn’t get home to my wife and my (now) three children. After sleeping in my car for three days, I decided that I’d wade home. The water at the river crossing came up to my neck. I had underestimated the force of the rapidly flowing water, so I was relieved when I was thrown against a submerged road sign that I could use as an anchor. I was not so happy to discover that a snake had the same idea and was wrapping itself around my waist! I managed to pull it off without getting bitten and make it home.

We decided to move out of the flood zone, but the real estate agent advised us to wait a few years until people’s memories of the flood had faded. This was good advice, and when we did sell at a profit, we were able to afford to build a house in Winmalee in the lower Blue Mountains. After the birth of our twin boys, I had five children to provide for. I was now the manager of a second-hand car business, and earning good money, but also working weekends and away from my family a lot. This put a strain on our marriage and we ended up getting divorced. Even though we’d agreed on an equal split of assets and that I would continue to provide financially for our children, the judge said we should have a 60:40 split in my ex-wife’s favour.

I couldn’t afford to buy a house with my share of our divorce settlement, which turned out to be fortuitous. I met my second wife at a newsagency and after going out for a while, we decided to rent together. She had three children from her first marriage and they were very accepting of me. I didn’t ask them to call me ‘dad’, because I knew what that was like.

It was a very busy time for me with two families to support and a business to run. I tried to see my children as often as I could but I don’t think it was enough. The kids have all grown up now and they’re doing very well, considering.

I borrowed $250,000 in 1990 to set up my used-car business in Penrith. I remember buying 38 cars in one day at an auction, then cleaning them up for sale. Over the next ten years, I built my business and was able to employ some staff to help me. When I became unwell and was told it was cancer, I decided it was time to sell the business. Unfortunately, nobody wanted to buy it and I lost a lot of money.

My wife and I owned a house at Kiama, but nothing else. I borrowed money against our house to start a security business, but was quickly bought out by a competitor. This led to a job with Armaguard driving bullet-proof tucks around to fill up ATMs. I worked for them for about 8 or 9 years before the cancer came back.

I decided that if my days were numbered, that it was time to retire. We bought 25 acres at Hartley – it was the best thing I ever did. The house was rubbish, but I renovated it and added bedrooms and bathrooms and enjoyed the expansive views of the valley. I lived there for ten years until the maintenance of the property became too much for me. I had to spend four hours every week on a ride-on mower and look after about 150 hazelnut trees. I was tired. We sold up and moved to a tiny place on the water at Sussex Inlet. I renovated this place too, but I only had a small block of land to maintain.

About five years ago, I met someone that I had known when I was 14 years old. She was a student from East Germany who had boarded with my parents in Broadstairs. I was besotted with her – she was my first girlfriend. When my dad arranged for me to go to Australia with the BBM, I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I always felt bad about this and I’m sure she must have had difficulty understanding why I just disappeared.

Once I tracked her down, I really wanted to see her again. I decided that I would fly to London to see my sister and then visit her in Germany. My wife didn’t like the idea of me re-connecting with her. She wanted me to leave the past behind, but I really wanted to see her again. I didn’t want to rekindle our relationship but it felt like we had not parted well.

Doug Hitchon, 2026

When I met her again, she told me that she was sexually molested at her English school. Hearing her terrible story brought back memories that I had suppressed for over 60 years. I remembered that at my boarding school for maladjusted children, I had to spend half an hour each month with someone who was a psychiatrist or psychologist, and he sexually-molested me for three years. I was 11 years old when it started. I’m still having nightmares. I wake up in sweats at night. I feel like I’m back in his room and I can see the door-handle but I don’t get up and open it. I don’t understand why I didn’t walk out of that room. The things that bloke did to me – I am so ashamed. He’s dead. I can’t do anything about it. I did try and run away from the school three times, but each time, the adult I went to for help took me back to the school. I’m glad I didn’t remember this earlier in my life, because it’s had such an effect on me now.

When I came back to Australia, my wife was really hurt by my actions and because I’d betrayed her trust, we parted. It was all my fault. I did love my wife but then I was the one to cause all the problems. I couldn’t apologise to her enough for going to Germany to see this lady. I regret hurting her. We sold our house and went our separate ways.

I decided to buy a place in Tahmoor to be closer to some of my children who live in the southern highlands. After I’d been here for three months, my wife whom I was separated from said that she missed my company and decided to buy her own place in the same housing estate in Tahmoor. We go to the movies and have dinner together and see each other a few times a week or when the children stop by.

I arrived in Australia with 10 shillings in 1961, and now I own my home and a couple of European cars. I have the family I wanted and it keeps growing! I have 20 grandchildren, 2 great-grandchildren, and another on the way. There’s not a month goes by without several birthdays!

It’s been a helter-skelter ride and I haven’t sat down. Australia is the best country in the world. I’ve been as happy as I’ve ever been, except for the thing that’s choking me.