When you start talking about the village of Woomera, most people on the planet will ask a very appropriate question, “Where’s that?”
And, that’s the question I asked back in late 1989 when the US Air Force dropped a set of orders on my desk saying, “Report to Woomera.”
The Air Force gave the old “good news/bad news” routine.
“We got some good news for you – you’re going to Australia.”
Boy was I excited. I had visions of getting off the airplane in Sydney and being greeted by Olivia Newton John.
But, before I could get too carried away the Air Force hit me with the bad news, “You’re going to Woomera. An outback village of about 2,000 people in the middle of the South Australian outback. The nearest civilization is a small town called Port Augusta and it’s 169 km away; the nearest major city is Adelaide and it’s 500 km south.
But, I’m glad I had the opportunity to live in Woomera. It was a magical time and a magical place where adventure seemed to lurk around every corner; I never knew what exciting thing was going to happen next.
This past February, I had the opportunity to visit Woomera and it brought back many fond memories. As soon as we drove into town the memories came gushing back. Just driving down the main street – Banool Avenue – gave me a flashback to the very first day I entered the village back in February 1990, virtually 25 years ago to the day. I remember thinking at the time, “What have I gotten mystelf into? Where are all the people? This place is deserted?” I started re-reading my military orders to see if there was some sort of mistake; is there an escape clause? It seems funny to me know.
I remembered the beautiful evenings walking around the village, saying “G’day” to folks as they fired up the “Barbie” and filled the evening air with the most beautiful aroma of cooking lamb chops, steaks and of course those Aussie favorites “snags.”
Another place that brought forth a rush of fond memories was the Pimba Flats. This was the single officers quarters where I lived. I walked past my old flat and could almost see myself on the porch having my usual rice and vegetables evening meal, looking out over the sunset donga, while swatting away large condor size insects scavenging at my plate.
Then there’s St Michael’s Church where my wife and I were married. And, Breen Park where we held our reception. I visited both places and the memories jumped out as if I was reliving the events.
My visit to Woomera felt somewhat more intensified and hard hitting since I’m putting the finishing touches on my second book called Yanks in the Outback: A story of Woomera, South Australia, the Joint Defense Facility Nurrungar (JDFN) and the First Gulf War.
Can’t wait to read this. I remember you and your beautiful wife Marietta, I worked with her in the hair salon, I also remember your wedding at St Michaels. There were so many people there to wish you both well, that they were spilling out the doors. Say hello to her for me. Xx
Hello Tracy! Thanks for your encouraging words. Hope all is well with you. I remember our wedding too; especially the long bus ride to Adelaide that night! It was the first leg of our honeymoon trip to Cairns; way back in Nov 1991. I will let Marieta know you said “G’day.”
Thanks for the read Dave. I was born in that town in 1957, I was pulled kicking and screaming from that town as I turned 13 years old to take up residence in Adelaide, over 5 hours drive away. Woomera was the most important town in my life – a town where I met and also lost my father, my closest friends now are those friends I made during those 12 years in Woomera, many in my first years in kindergarten. We left before the American’s started arriving but I met many in my few visits there for the July 14th celebrations. I taught in China for a year and took photos with me of that beautiful red dirt and donga to remind me of home and although I still live in Adelaide and have since 1970, home is still that little mile square town in the middle of nowhere where life was happy and free, where kids grew up on the outside playing in the open air, and where mother’s got angry when the dust storms of that red dirt came in after the housework was done and the wet washing was hanging on the lines. A magical place that gave me the best grounding in childhood I could have wished for.
Thanks Elaine for your inspiring words about growing up in Woomera. Sorry to hear about your father, but glad you made lifelong friends during your time in Woomera.
Lived in this town from February ’82 til November ’93. My dad ran MWR and helped organise the DOD SHOWS..Softball..Baseball..Bowling…Football..Cricket..Golf (yes people we have a golf course 500 kms north of Adelaide in the middle of the donga…our greens wernt exactly green…actually they are black..and fot tee off its a square of astro turf..but thats outback golf and even now real grass golf courses seem strange yet I’ve been back in suburbia of Adelaide for 22 years).
I lived in the houses near these flats and as a kid growing up there..it was the best place to be. Freedom of the whole town as your playground. .. only going home by the streetlights. .yet knowing that every adult in the town were looking out for your welfare too. The thing is… we say Woomera now… and literally its talking about…well HOME. I think rge hardest thing of this town for a kid…wasn’t the remoteness …the hardest thing was every 6 months saying goodbye to yet another lot of really close friends as they too were shipped either back to The States… or to another far off Country. Because really..we weren’t actually saying goodbye to friends… we were saying SEE YOU to family.
Thanks Rosemary for your great Woomera insights. Yes, saying goodbye to good friends was a regular occurrence in Woomera, yet it brought with it a side benefit … you have friends just about everywhere on the planet!
i love this! It was just as insane for us Aussies!
That’s right Lisa … Woomera was just as tough, remote, exotic, adventurous (add your favorite adjective here!) for the Aussies! At least that’s the feedback I received from my Aussie friends.