Next week people around the world will pay their respects to the fallen Anzacs [on Anzac Day we commemorate the soldiers of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps], and so it is a fitting time for reflection upon our war veterans’ experiences on the war fronts, to pay tribute to all their efforts and sacrifices.

With the inevitable passing of time, the dwindling numbers of Australian war veterans from WWII who are still alive and can recount their war experiences, make it of national importance to capture these life stories.

I was fortunate to be introduced to Peter Anastasios Comino who served in the 79 Spitfire Squadron of the Royal Australian Air Force, based on the small island of Morotai of the Netherlands East Indies [a Dutch colony consisting of what is now Indonesia] during the Pacific War.

Both his parents, Anastasios and Stratoula (nee Mavrogeorge) were from the island of Kythera; they settled in the small NSW town between Armidale and Glen Innes of Guyra, where Peter was born and raised. They ran the Red Rose Cafe and were the only Greek family in town.

It was during high school that Peter’s school friends proposed they all join the local Air Training Corps (ATC), which groomed teenagers to eventually join the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF). Their school principal Charles Ebert was in charge of the ATC and local postmaster Mr Jones took night classes and taught them Morse code.

When Peter turned 18, he volunteered to join the RAAF. When he broke the news to his parents, his mother began to cry while his father tried to make a joke of it. Peter remembers the stark contrast between an Australian amily and his when the local young men were farewelling their parents at the railway station before they travelled to Sydney to present themselves.

“At my final leave we were on the platform; there was this Australian soldier with his father and when the train came in the father just shook his soldier son’s hand, said ‘goodbye, son’, and that was it. My parents would not stop hugging me – they did not want to let go – so my farewell was very different to that Australian family’s experience,” recounts Peter.

A RAAF portrait of Peter Comino.

Completing his medical examination at Woolloomooloo in Sydney, he did his six-week general training in Cootamundra, where they did their passing out parade.

Being sent to Melbourne and Adelaide air bases for further training in warplane maintenance, then to Williamtown, he was finally sent to the embarkation depot at Bradfield; as the wharfies were on strike, the government ordered Australian servicemen to load the ships, and Peter found himself loading munitions and supplies onto military transport ships. It was during this time he was posted to the No. 79 Spitfire Squadron, which was stationed on the island of Morotai.

Recounting his journey to the Dutch East Indies, it quickly becomes apparent to Peter how the harsh realities of a battle zone begin to set in upon arrival.

“We were 16 days at sea. As we approached New Guinea and got closer to the war zone, it was too early to feel fear. It was only when I was in Morotai that the Japanese taught me the true meaning of fear,” he says.

“We were on one small side of the island but the rest of the island was still under Japanese control. Nearby Halmahera Island and other surrounding islands were also under Japanese control. So we kept ammunition in our tents because we thought they could come and attack us from any of these islands.”

During the day Peter’s duties included maintaining the warplanes by checking the rudders and wing flaps. Guard duty at night was lonely and frightening, especially during the ‘graveyard’ shift of 12 midnight to 4.00 am.

“It was very dangerous because so much of Morotai was still under the Japanese. The planes were lined up along one side of the airstrip. Because we were short of guards, they had me regularly on the graveyard shift,” he recalls.

“I was by myself. I used to put my back against a Spitfire and have my Tommy gun with the safety off. I was not game enough to shut my eyes during these four-hour shifts. I did get tired and in those early hours of the morning your eyes play tricks on you. For example . . . when palm trees begin to walk off! You sort of hallucinate.
“I was scared. Not long after I was there, there were two guards on the night shift and both were found with their throats cut. So, I was very frightened!”

Peter Comino (R) with his peers in the Royal Australian Air Force.

Life’s vulnerability is often epitomised by war, as servicemen’s lives are taken away so quickly and easily. Soldiers’ peers are alive one moment and in another instant they are gone. Peter recounts the story of a replacement pilot who lost his life after arriving at Morotai.

“A replacement pilot came up to Morotai. The parachute sergeant, myself and another fellow were talking to him. He was an old boy from St Ignatius College in Sydney. Let us say he arrived on Wednesday; on Thursday he flew out and he was strafing a barge in the Halmaheras and crashed into the sea,” he tells.

“James Rodgers published two books on the boys from St Ignatius who fought in World War I and World War II. When I attended the author’s book launch of the book on the latter, there was this replacement pilot’s photograph before me. I went up to James Rodgers and said ‘See that pilot (as I pointed to the replacement pilot’s portrait); I knew him for one day.'”

Like so many of his peers, Peter was relieved when the Pacific War ended.

“I was on Morotai for six months. One soldier claimed six months on Morotai was equivalent to serving six years in the Middle East,” he exclaims.

Returning to Australia, the soldiers’ discharge from the armed services was based on a points system; as Peter was single, with no children and responsibilities, he was discharged in 1946.

Returning to Guyra was an emotional, joyous experience. He recalls “going into our shop in Guyra, I was still wearing my khaki greens. Everyone in Guyra called my father Jack. I [walked in to his butchery and] asked my father ‘Jack, can I have a dozen ‘starvers’ (saveloys)?’ and he bent over to get them. When he got up again I said ‘Don’t you know me, Dad?’

“When he realised it was me, he leapt over the counter and embraced me. My brother George and sister Judy were just kids. As I was going into the kitchen to see my mother I picked up George with one arm and Judy with the other.”

In 1953 Peter married Matina Moulos. Together with her brother Jack Moulos they ran the Niagara Cafe in Singleton. Matina and Peter stayed on in Singleton for 18 years, and their children were all born there.

Peter Comino (C) with his nephew Leo Comino (L) and historian Vasilis Vasilas (R).

For more information about the No. 79 Squadron see awm.gov.au/collection/U59417

* Vasilis Vasilas would like to thank Leo Comino for organising the interview and Paul Comino and Kerry Corkill for all his support throughout the interview process.