When we reached a point off Rockhampton, we ran into a fairly rough sea with a heavy south-easterly swell, and the ship began to pound fore and aft, much to the barely concealed anxiety of the captain and the crew. However, we wallowed on, and just as we had almost reached the haven of Moreton Bay, a signal order was received from Brisbane that the ship was to proceed eastward of the 500 fathom line and discard all ready to fire (fused) ammunition. The war was over, and peacetime regulations were back in force! The captain's reaction was lurid—but disciplined. We bumped out roughly, and the captain said 'I'll show the b......'s!'. When we reached the mark, he gave the order to load all guns, and fire the ammunition, instead of merely dumping it overboard. It was some fireworks display indeed! Within a few minutes, RAAF aircraft were overhead, requesting the vessel to identify itself.

At long last, on the tenth day, we limped into a mooring at Pinkenba dock in the Brisbane River—and so weathered a remarkable voyage. I proceeded to the Repatriation General Hospital at Concord, NSW, where I spent two weeks resting, eating, and sleeping very well. Thence I went on leave for a week, after which I returned to Sydney to be discharged from the RAAF in March 1946—four years and nine months after my enlistment. Some time later, I received a letter from the chief engineer of the ship on which I had returned to Australia. When the vessel was dry-docked in Brisbane, not only was the bow shattered, but also a great crack extended from the hole for some forty feet back towards the stern. 'Thank God—and you—for the good weather we had for most of the voyage!' he wrote. The joke about my control of the elements had lived on!

Bureau of Meteorology