From the Land Down Under to the Rising Sun

Mary:

This post flashes back to the mid-1940s when Milton became involved in running camps for high school kids in the Sydney area. In one of the very first blog posts, the story was told about how Milton and June met while she volunteered at a youth camp that he was running. This is the story of how those camps got started even before they met. It is a great backstory to give more context to upcoming posts about June and Milton’s work in Japan with young people.

At the time of this story in this post, Milton is working as an electrician but also getting very much involved in his church.

Milton:

I had been thinking about starting a street preaching mission for my denomination. (Whenever I saw others doing some special Christian work I always got the feeling we could do it better. I think at the time I felt my group was more enlightened than the others) I saw an advertisement for an old van. There was strict gasoline rationing in those days, but I purchased the van and was granted a very large ration for my Sunday school and Street ministry services.

Then the government awarded tradesmen annual holidays. I didn’t know what to do with my two weeks, but Jim (his Christian co-worker) told me about a country evangelist, so I visited him for a few days. Then Clem Doutty, the engineer who remodeled my van, and I took a trip into the Blue Mountains.

I had heard of a youth camp being held at Mt. Victoria and suggested we go for two days. It never occurred to me that I was being disgustingly brash walking into the middle of a well-organized camping program, but the leaders were most gracious and gladly accepted us for the two days. What I saw rocketed me into a new orbit. The leader was fabulous. He could make the kids laugh, cry and go silent all in an exciting twenty minutes. Boys were deeply impressed, and some were converted. The leaders suggested we join them in the future, but my mind could only imagine our denomination running our own and doing it even better. Clem and I left and stopped by the Jenolan Caves but all I could think of was the future Youth Camps that would put our church into the soul-saving business.

At the next Young Peoples committee meeting, I announced, “I want to start running Youth camps.” Some of the local churches had organized their own holiday camps but no one had put together a structured camping program.  I was given the go-ahead to announce the idea at the next Rally and from then on, my phone ran hot.
Campsite, catering, cooking, programming, one after another volunteers and experts called in. Half the services they offered; I had not even dreamed of. We ran the first camp three months after the first announcement with 50 boys. After that, I took the plunge to have a senior and junior camp for both boys and girls each holiday. Boys’ and girls’ camps were separated back then.

I had to find separate campsites and staff and all the necessary equipment for four camps every three or four months. My old van chugged up and down mountains and along rivers for as long as the gas held out. In between trips I used the van as the mobile church for street meetings.

It was the tail end of World War II and people hadn’t been able to take vacations for a long time. Sometimes we were able to help. On one survey trip, we saw a mansion overlooking a pretty valley on a lonely forest area in the Blue Mountains. We called in and found two gentle ladies living there. We told them of our work, and they thought it was delightful for young folk to be able to get away for a holiday.
“Why,” one of them said, “we haven’t been away for ages.”
“Would you like to go?” my companion  asked.
“Oh, we would, but who travels these days…finances won’t allow it.”
We offered to send them to any place they liked and pay their hotel bills if they would let us use their home for 10 days. They jumped at the offer, and we jammed 40 girls into that home for a thrilling heaven-bell-ringing camp.

One night back in Sydney a very well-dressed gentleman stayed behind after the street meeting was over. I knew him as a respected member of the Brethren but had no idea what he did for a living. “Milt”, he addressed me quietly, “I admire the camp work very much. I want to help. I would gladly cut the firewood. Could you use me in any way?”

Men were rare animals on school holidays, so I was glad for him to join us. It turned out Will Griffith was a near-genius. He never had time to chop wood. He could have if we allowed him to, he was a born camper and mountaineer. He was a top Hansard reporter for the Parliament, so he had holidays as often as the politicians. He became my closest companion in the hunt for everything that would keep our organization functioning.

(Mary – quick note -if like me, you didn’t go to school in Australia and had never seen the word Hansard before – yes I googled it – something to do with official reports of the goings on in Parliament. I’m sure a very important job in the pre-digital age)

God began to open doors for us to get our own equipment. When the war finished the army had surplus equipment to get rid of. The professionals were buying it up as fast as they could at the Military auction sales. I went to one and outbid everyone for hundreds of spoons, forks, and knives. Then one morning Will met me in the city. He was carrying the morning paper.

“Look at this” he laughed. The army was offering mattresses to any charitable organization. Will insisted we were as charitable as anyone else. He wanted me to call the army because we had a big need for the next camp which promised to be big. I called.
“How many can you use?” the officer asked.
I cupped my hand over the receiver and turned to Will.
“How many?” I whispered.
“One hundred” he deadpanned
I repeated that into the phone, and the officer simply said to pick them up the next day. I hung up the phone in a daze. My van could carry about four of those heavy mattresses. I imagined myself driving back and forth to the army base for days.
“He said OK, what do we do now?” I asked.
Will smiled: “I know a man with a furniture truck. Let’s go and have a cup of coffee.”

The spring holidays were coming up fast, Will and I traveled up and down the mountains looking at three places that didn’t quite work. When we got down to the plains by the winding Nepean River, I got a hunch that our place was along that stream. We drove to where a well-known Dude Ranch operated but as we drove by it,  it seemed like it would be too much to expect them to suspend operations for a week.

We then saw a little one-man-run holiday ranch. I think this man catered to about ten people each weekend. So we drove in and introduces ourselves.  We asked him how much did he take in a week.
“About ten quid” (pounds) he replied. That was a nice week’s wage in those days.
“But you have to work for that,” Will commented. We could give you that price and you won’t have to do anything.”

The man was a jovial-looking character and Will’s remark made his lazy eyes shine.

I explained that we wanted to take over the whole place, bring in dozens of boys and feed them for a week. He could relax in his room with the money. He agreed and we drove off.

Over 70 boys applied. We bought tents and shipped the army mattresses out.

God provided for every need. Before that camp began, we leaders moved in a day ahead of the boys to prepare the place. I drove back and forth from town bringing in supplies. On one such trip, I noticed a man in army uniform walking along the road hitchhiking. I stopped. We were only going a few kilometers further along but at least I could offer that much help. I explained we were only going as far as a youth camp. He replied that he was looking for the Christian Youth Camp.

“That’s us.” I laughed “I’m Milt”

“I’m Ray Stoodley. Just discharged and someone told me I ought to help you.”

Ray was an expert on hygiene right from the jungles of New Guinea. He looked at our two toilets and told us that with 80 people this was not going to work. 

“I’ll build you jungle latrines,” he said and started digging. It was a lifesaver. 

A lady volunteered to cook. There was one wood-burning stove yet she produced meals for up to 80 people on that little thing. One night she nearly flipped as we weren’t keeping up with the supply of wood for the stove and she was losing heat. Will smoothed over the situation with his diplomacy. Later I noticed him laughing to himself. He came over to me and said,

“You know, it is all quite funny Because we have wood troubles, toilet troubles, cooking troubles, and boy troubles but in a very natural way the days will pass, and we will get over it all. I think that’s the funny side of life.”

I let that remark sit in my head. In later years it came back to me and pulled me through a lot of troubles: the ‘it will come to pass’ philosophy.