by Bill Marsh
But Papunya was probably one of the main places where the Department of Native Affairs brought the Aborigines into. And I’ll get a little off the track here and reminisce on a bit and tell you a little story about chance, one that started at Papunya.
We flew into Papunya one time and there was a pregnant nursing sister who worked out there whose name was Marie. Anyway, while the doctor and the nurse were jabbing the Aborigines and recording their names and so forth, I went and had a cup of tea with this Marie. Then a couple of days after I’d flown the doctor and nurse back to Alice Springs, I said to the doctor, ‘Gees, I’m itchy.’
‘Let’s have a look,’ he said.
And he just took one look at me and he said, ‘You’ve got German measles. We’ll have to go back to Papunya and give an injection of gamma-globulin to all the pregnant women out there, then hope you haven’t caused any problems.’
So we went back out to Papunya and, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen it or not, but the gamma-globulin needle is this great, big, long needle which they jab into the rump. It’s like a length of number eight fencing wire. Anyway, Marie said to me, ‘I’m never having another bloody cup of tea with you ever again.’
Unfortunately, in Marie’s case she miscarried. She lost the baby.
Then a few years later I got married and at the wedding I was introduced to the in-laws for the first time and my newly acquired sister-in-law looked vaguely familiar. So I said, ‘Haven’t I seen you before?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘I know you from somewhere, too.’
I said, ‘What’s your name?’
‘Marie,’ she said.
And it turned out that this Marie was the same Marie who was the nursing sister out at Papunya, and I was the bloke who caused her to lose her baby because I had German measles. And I’d just married her husband’s sister, which made me her brother-inlaw. So what’s the chances of that happening? About one in a trillion, I’d say.
Pilatus PC 12
I don’t think that by me being a female pilot, it changes the way the plane is being flown. In my case it is more working for the Royal Flying Doctor Service that makes an interesting difference to the way I sometimes fly. For an example, it must’ve been about four or five months ago we were sent to Cook, out on the Nullarbor Plain, for a patient that got sick on the Indian Pacific train. It was a high priority and when we landed the doctor came along and he said, ‘Oh, you will have to taxi into town because the patient is too sick to be transported out to the airport.’
Well, the airport was probably about 500 metres or 600 metres from the town but here you go: safety first. Off the airport I went, onto the track and taxi into town and I park the plane under a shady tree. And that’s just one of those things you would never come across anywhere else. It was sort of like a special pickup and it was because, as I said, it was of a very high priority.
It’s the same in Tarcoola, which is also out on the Transcontinental Railway Line. When we go there for medical clinics with the GPs, the first time I came there I asked, ‘Where do we go?’
And they said, ‘Well, you follow the track and you park the aeroplane behind the hospital.’
So those kinds of experiences, of course, are very different to anywhere else with flying, and also much more so because these are usually all-dirt runways.
Another thing that is different is that we all work as a team in the Flying Doctor Service. We all try to help each other. Like what we had in the bush once at William Creek, in the north of South Australia. There was a car roll over after they’d had a heavy night of partying, I think, and we got called out in the very early hours of the morning. But when we got there, to William Creek, we couldn’t get the lights to go on, on the airstrip.
But some of the station crew were already out there, because they knew of the emergency and they switched on, manually, the lights of the strip. So you land the aeroplane on the dirt strip and then you help put a stretcher in the back of the good old ‘Aussie’ ute, jump in the ute, with the nurse and the doctor, drive to where the person is injured and be of any help you possibly can while they get him stabilised and they assess him and things like that. Then you help get him on the stretcher and put the stretcher again in the back of the ute and you drive back to the strip where we then put him on the aircraft and then you take off. So, you know, those are the real stories of accidents in the bush that you can have happen.
One of the first experiences that I had of a night-time flight was with the flares. For those, the RFDS send out forms to all the different stations to show them how to set the flares out and what the procedure is. They give enough light out, but not a whole lot. And with flares, you don’t see them until you are only a few miles out from them. So anyway, this time we had to go to Clifton Hills, which is a station property up on the Birdsville Track. It was a pitch black night. There was no moon out, nothing. I was at about 20 000 feet or something and half an hour out from our destination I could look anywhere and I could just not see a single light outside, anywhere. That’s how black it was. And I thought, ‘Oh well, this is definitely descending into a black hole.’
Anyhow, they set up the flares and then they have a car with the lights that point to where the wind comes from so that you’re flying into the wind when you land. So, yeah, that was quite an experience to do that the first time.
But especially when it is totally moonless and you don’t have a horizon or anything to look at, because it’s just pitch black, then you’ve really got to be on the ball to do that, because you are virtually just flying by the instruments. Because sometimes you do often hear of that ‘black hole’ thing — that is when some people can easily lose their direction and also they lose how high they are off the ground, and even whether they’re flying upside down or not. So you’ve got to trust your instruments, because in a situation like that what the instruments say can be the opposite to what are our own perceptions. For instance, if you accelerate then your body sensation will say, ‘Oh, you’re accelerating, so you must be going down.’
That is the feeling you get. Your ears will tell you something different than what your instruments do. It is hard but it’s something that you just have to learn — to trust your instruments. So, yeah, black holes can be very dangerous.
But we are very lucky with the Pilatus PC 12 aeroplanes. They’ve got, for instance, the EGPWS. That stands for Enhanced Ground Proximity Warning System, so that if you’re going in on a too-steep approach it will give you little things to warn you that you are too steep. Or when the ground comes up towards you, or you don’t have your gear down and your flaps out, and there is a runway, it will go off and say, ‘Pull up. Pull up. Terrain. Terrain.’
We also have a multi-function display unit which, at night time, we can use to read the ground, so that we can see where any high areas are. You can sort of see outside, but you can’t, if you understand what I mean. But all that works on the display unit, with radar and satellite. So all that instrumentation is of an enormous value to us, especially since we are a single pilot operation.
So the Pilatus PC 12 is a most wonderful aeroplane. In fact, the Flying Doctor Service was one of the first major organisations to use the PC 12s. It is a Swiss-built plane that has got a military background. So they’re very well built. But also, I believe the PC 12 was a radical move away from normal thinking because while the King Airs have a twin turbo prop (propeller), the PC 12s have a single-engine turbo prop. Of course, with having a single engine, they’re a cheaper plane to operate and also they have a shorter landing and take-off length than our King Airs did.
But they are very, very expensive to buy and fit out. I think that I’ve heard a quote of about $6 million for each aeroplane. That is with all the medical equipment in them, of course. But they’ve been a great success, and they suit, very much, our type of work. And I think that now the RFDS, especially in the South Australian or Central Section, has got the highest flight time of PC 12s anywhere in the world.
; Preordained Destiny
I was reading your last book of Flying Doctor stories — More Great Australian Flying Doctor Stories — and I was particularly taken with a story in there called ‘In the Footsteps of Flynn’. In part it describes how Fred McKay’s destiny was set out very early on in his life. If you recall, that happened when he was a little boy and he was very ill and he remembered looking up from his sick bed and seeing his mother saying, in silent prayer, ‘Lord, if you make my little boy well, I’ll make him a minister.’
Of course, we all know now that that’s what happened. Fred became a minister and, then, following John Flynn’s death, he took over as Superintendent of the Australian Inland Mission. So Fred’s destiny was set from a very early age.
Now, I’m not sure if you know but Fred’s wife, Meg, also had a very interesting occurrence of preordained destiny. As you know, Meg became such an integral part of Fred’s life, not only as his wife but also with the work they both did within the organisation of the AIM. And, well, as it’s turned out, I’ve discovered that that strong connection had its beginnings long before Fred even came along. But putting it all together from my memory is a little hard and of course there’s been so much written about both Fred and Meg that it’s probably best if you just read about it in a book. It’d be more accurate that way. I mean, as in this case, that’s where I came across this particular story about Meg and her destiny. I found it in a very interesting book that was written by Maisie McKenzie. It’s called Outback Achiever: Fred McKay — Successor to Flynn of the Inland. And this is where a lot of this information comes from, so my apologies to Maisie, but I just want to get it right.
Now, just a bit of background first. Meg was a Robertson, and her father, Hubert Robertson, had been a Presbyterian minister in Scotland. He and his wife were then invited by the Presbyterian Church to come out to Australia; Hubert as an evangelist. That was in 1913. So they settled in Australia and their first daughter, Betty, ended up attending university at the same time Fred was there. I’m not sure just how good friends they were but they knew each other well enough that Fred got to know the Robertson family through his contact with Betty.
Meg was the second daughter. Her given name was Margaret Mary McLeod Robertson or, as she became more commonly known, Meg. Then, later on, when she was at a Presbyterian-Methodist College for girls, that’s when she got to know Fred, through his connection with Betty. Now apparently Meg was quite struck by Fred, even back then. But she wasn’t sure about Fred’s feelings towards her so it came as a real surprise when Fred asked her to accompany him to an Inter-College Boat Race on the Brisbane River. I believe Fred was at Queensland University at Emmanuel College at that stage, studying Arts and Theology. Now Meg was about eight years younger than Fred so she would’ve only been, I don’t know, about sixteen or seventeen or something. She was still a schoolgirl anyway, and apparently she went off to this boating regatta, along with Fred, all dressed out in the Emmanuel College colours. So she must’ve been determined to make some sort of an impression.
And that’s when they first began to really get to know each other. But at that stage in time they were both so busy, what with Fred and his studies and then, after Meg had finished school, she went to Brisbane to begin her nursing training at the Brisbane Hospital. But her father, Hubert Robertson, had long held a fascination with the work that John Flynn was doing within the AIM, to such an extent that he had then become Chairman of the Queensland Council of the Australian Inland Mission.
Anyway, as the story goes, at one point he had to submit a report to the State Assembly in Brisbane. Meg also attended that State Assembly, along with her family, and she just happened to sit in front of Fred and a group of his college mates. Now, in Maisie McKenzie’s book, it says how Fred must’ve apparently spent more time looking at Meg than he did listening to the Church Fathers, because somewhere during the proceedings he tapped Meg on the shoulder and asked, ‘Who’s taking you home tonight?’
And, as quick as a flash, Meg replied, ‘You are.’
That’s when they really first formed their bond because, according to Maisie McKenzie, Fred kissed Meg when they parted that night and I quote: ‘that marked the beginning of a life-long commitment to each other — one that was to last through the years and lead them on unexpected paths’.
From then on they sort of developed their relationship over the years. I mean, they went to the boat regatta when Meg was about seventeen and they married when she was twenty-two or something like that so they had a reasonably long courtship. That’s if you could call it a courtship because they were apart so often. But apparently the kiss sealed it, and from then on they were committed to each other.
Later on, after Fred had graduated, he was appointed to a Home Mission at Southport, on the Gold Coast. The Gold Coast’s about 100 kilometres south of Brisbane. The place suited him well because he liked swimming in the sea and he liked the people. So he was pretty excited about his appointment and he thought he’d settle in there, at Southport, for the next few years. After that his plan was to go overseas to Edinburgh, Scotland, where he wanted to continue with his theological studies.
But while Fred was at Southport, that’s when John Flynn came along and asked him to consider becoming a Patrol Padre, with the AIM. As you’ve said in your book, Flynn had long been eyeing off Fred as a likely candidate to take over the running of the AIM, after his departure. That part of the story is quite well written about in the story ‘In the Footsteps of Flynn’, from your book of More Great Australian Flying Doctor Stories. You know, with Flynn running some sand through his fingers and saying to Fred, ‘The sands of Birdsville are far finer than the sands of Southport’ then with Fred following Flynn off the beach and walking in his footsteps as they went.
So that was Fred and his destiny. And now, as I said right at the beginning, there’s perhaps an even more interesting story of destiny, hidden in there, within the overall story, and it’s about Meg and her long-time connection to the Australian Inland Mission; one that happened long before she met Fred. Now I’d like to quote directly from Maisie McKenzie’s book, if I may, because it relates that story far better than what I can tell it.
Okay, so this happened soon after John Flynn had his meeting with Fred on the beach at Southport, with the proposal of him joining the AIM and becoming a Patrol Padre, out in western Queensland. And I now quote:
And was it in the best interests of the Church and of himself to sacrifice the Edinburgh goal? And what about Margaret Robertson? How would she react? They knew their future was bound together, but Margaret was little more than half-way through her nursing training. He simply had to see her.
He met her at the hospital and they walked in the park, while he told her of the extraordinary experience with John Flynn, who had asked him to be a boundary rider for the Australian Inland Mission and to travel throughout western Queensland. He half expected her to protest that perhaps he was being carried away, or some such thing, but, to his utter astonishment, Margaret unfolded a remarkable story.
She told him that, when her father, Hubert Robertson, had first come out from Scotland as an evangelist, in 1913, the Australian Inland Mission was in its infancy, having started only the year before. But Hubert and his wife read about it and this fascinating, adventurous work in outback Australia captured their imaginations. They found out all they could and, just before Margaret was born in May 1915, they agreed to dedicate the baby, whatever the sex, to the splendid work being carried out by John Flynn and his Australian Inland Mission.
So, even before she was born, Fred’s future wife was invisibly bound to the Australian Inland Mission. Six months after her birth, John Flynn, himself, was staying in their [the Robertsons’] Manse. In his usual style he talked late into the night with the eagerly listening Hubert Robertson, telling of his dreams for the future. In the morning he was holding baby Margaret on his lap. Mr Robertson came up to them and placed a one pound note in the baby’s hand. ‘Now you are a member
of the AIM Inland Legion,’ he said.
This [the Inland Legion] was an army of voluntary workers in the capital cities, parcelling up literature for the print-hungry people of the inland. A one pound donation gave membership to the Legion. Years after, when Margaret was a grown woman, Flynn told her he had the utmost difficulty in prising that pound note from her tightly clenched fist. She wanted to keep it.
As she [Meg] spoke, Fred could hardly believe his ears. What an amazing coincidence. Or was it? Margaret’s story and her enthusiasm clinched it for him, and that was when he made up his mind that he would offer to be Flynn’s boundary rider up there in the North, if the AIM wanted him. He says now that he felt as if “the very Spirit of the Lord was speaking, but that this was no still small voice. Rather it sounded like a hammering in my heart”.
“But that would mean coming to Birdsville with me when you finish your training,” he said.
Margaret, his Meg, a woman in love, replied, “Yes, Birdsville or Edinburgh or Timbuctoo.”
I mean, isn’t that amazing? And so later on they were married in December 1938. By then Fred was already ‘boundary riding’ for John Flynn as one of his Patrol Padres. Then, after they married, Meg started going out on patrol with Fred. Basically, their house was a truck, and they camped out together and stayed at various remote station properties throughout the west of Queensland. And not only did Meg’s nursing training come in very handy in that sort of work but she was also given the extra jobs of having to pull teeth out and so forth. Actually, I think she might’ve even done some sort of a crash course in dentistry because all her old dental instruments have been given to the Fred McKay Museum, there in Alice Springs. So Meg travelled with Fred until their first child, Margaret, was born and so that would’ve been for another year or year and a half.