Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

Born Albert George King but known as "George" to all who knew him was the second eldest child of Silas William King & Lavina May King. George had and older brother Adin and 3 younger sisters Ada, Una & Elsie. George attended the local school which was known as Homeville before having it's named changed to Telarah post WW2, Homeville itself was just a small community in those days and the school was only just up the street from where they lived in 59 Station st ( later renamed Brook st). George worked for his father as a Farrier/ Blacksmith until hard time hit in the depression and he was forced to find alternate work mustering cattle in outback NSW. I recall his horse's name was Filly and was still alive even when I was a small child and his saddle was still hanging on the back verandah wall right up until my Grandparents passed. Everyone who knew George never had a bad word to say about him, he was just a good all round bloke.
Once George was conscripted and moved away to North Qld I understand that he found a lady friend up there and said to his sisters that after the war he would return to Qld and marry her but that was not to be as he killed in action on the Sanananda Track on 19 th December 1942. His father took his death badly and it affected him for years, apparently. My mother, Aunty and Grandmother would talk of George as if he were still with us and vividly remember his Photo with him in uniform hanging above the mantle piece over the fireplace. I was fortunate enough to be given that same portrait and it now hangs with great pride in my house along with his service medals. Fortunately I have been able to visit George's resting place in Bomana War Cemetery twice . It is such a beautiful well maintained place and the people who work there do an amazing job. I was also able to visit the battlefields of the Northern Beaches and got pretty close to where George was killed...the jungle there was horrific and nothing like you see in movies. Mosquito infested swampy jungle with twisted gnarled roots intertwined with each othe that give you no level footing let alone dry footing. People only a few metres away from me but I could only hear them, not see them , I imagined the sheer horror of what these troops had to endure day in and day out, night after night. Even the natives say that they rarely go there. I hope anyone reading this will not only remember George but all of his mates that are still up there.
Graeme...George's nephew