BILL DEFOE ~ THE TRAINING FARM ~ ©

At around 12 O’clock on the 23rd of April, the Big Brother Movement sent a large, single-decker coach to pick up all of us boys with the exception of Liverpool Bob who did not want to be sent out to the Bush to work. It was decided that he would work in Sydney as a mechanic so the Big Brother Movement could keep a good eye on him until he reached the age of 18. After 18 the BBM would no longer assume responsibility for any of us boys. I never really saw any of the BBM Directors so it felt like we were on our own, after they found us our first job in the Bush.

All of our suitcases were loaded on the coach and the drivers headed out for the Suburbs to a small place called Cabramatta. On the outskirts of Cabramatta was a Dairy Farm which the BBM owned. That was to be our new home until we were able to get our first Bush job. The training farm was a very beautiful place which was surrounded by lush green fields. The large coach drove through a big double gate and up a dirt track road to the large Nissan hut where our quarters were. A couple of big Australian men were waiting to help us out with our cases and gear as the coach came to a halt.

Once everyones’ gear was in the large barrack-type hut, I layed down on a wire-framed bed and took a bit of a breather. I had not been layed down very long before a big, booming voice rang out,
“All right you pommy bastards, get off those bunks and lets see what type of fucking rabble they’ve sent me this time. Line up at the bottom of ya’ beds! My name is Bill Defoe.”, he said as he strode down the hut.
He stopped in front of one boy and said,“Jesus fucking christ, you sure are an ugly little bastard, son. What’s your fucking handle?”
“Mi names Morris.”, said the boy.
“Is your father an ugly little bastard like you?”
“Mi father’s dead.”, said Morris.
“Just as fucking well!”, said Defoe. “He’d have had a fucking heart attack looking at you, sunshine.”
Walking down the line he stopped at another boy.
“What’s your fucking handle?”
“Dave.”
“Can you work, Dave?”
“I’ve been working for two years.”, said Dave.
“I’ll bet you wouldn’t work in an iron lung, ya big pufta! Who curls ya fucking hair now ya sisters not around?”
“No one, It’s natural.”, said Dave.
When Defoe got level with were I was standing he took one look at me and said,
“Gawd love a fucking duck! You should be still at home on your mothers tits. Who the fucking hell sent a little fucking worm like you out here!”
“The BBM.”, I said.
“Do you know how to wank yourself off yet, lad?”
“Yes.”, I said as mi face went bright red and all the boys started to laugh.
“Does spunk fly out of the end of your dick or are you still pumping air?”
Everyone had a good laugh at that one.
I declined to answer that question and he said, “OK you pommy, fucking bastards, follow me and I’ll show you around the place.”

We all followed Defoe out of the hut and across the field to where the dairy parlour was. He showed us how everything worked, and as he went along, he attached jobs to every one. I was the only boy who never got a job and on the way back to the Nissen Hut he said to me, “Come here ya scrawny-assed little fucker. D’ya know what that building is?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s the cook house. You can helps Mrs. Blackwell to serve the meals and do the dishes .
“Alright.”
You can take some rest now and make fucking sure you’re all ready for work in the morning. Breakfast will be at 6 O’clock sharp! If you’re not out a’fucking bed, you’ll be in deep shit.”
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when Defoe strode off across the paddock to the Administration building.
“Let’s go a get some rest before that big ugly bastard changes his mind!” said Dave.
We lay on our beds and tried to get a bit of rest because, for sure, Bill Defoe was going to make it quite hard for all of us. Most of the boys were asleep but I found it very difficult to rest. I decided to go for a walk, over to the milking parlour. When I walked out into the back yard it looked like it had never been cleaned out for months. There was cow shit 6 inches deep all over it.
Just then a voice said to me, ‘This yard looks very much like Spencers’ yard, but Spencer would never have a dirty yard like this one. Why don’t you grab that shovel and clean it all out.’
‘What a good idea.’, I thought. ‘It sounds as though I’m going to have a hard life over here so I’d might as well get started right now.”
I worked real hard, non-stop, till the whole yard had been shoveled clean. It took me four hours to do it. As soon as all the shit had been stacked on the old shit pile I hosed the yard down with water. By the time I had finished there were blisters on mi hands and fingers. When I looked around the yard it was as clean as a whistle.
I felt a great sense of accomplishment so I went back over to the Nisson hut and took a well-deserved lay down.
‘Now I can rest.’, I thought. ‘I’ve earned one!