We are rounding past the halfway point of our Australian experience and have spent a few days in Sydney, shopping, touring from the top of a double-decker bus, enjoying the city. When we arrived from Melbourne, Roger took off his business shirt and put on one of his Hawaiian summer shirts, declaring: “I am officially on vacation!”

The topper of this interlude was our evening with Rob and Cathy Cowley at a great seafood restaurant in Manley. Rob is the son of Alf Cowley, the pilot who flew with my father-in-law, Ron Warburton, in the RAF during World War II. Ron was the Flight Engineer of a Lancaster bomber. His job was basically everything. The Flight Engineer has been replaced by computerization today. During the war, the pilot (that was Alf) flew the plane, and the flight engineer (that was Ron) planned, corrected, rescued, helped to navigate, and did the trouble-shooting. The pilot and the flight engineer were trained together as partners, so Alf and Ron were buddied on 23-plus missions over Germany and the Netherlands during 44-45. Only a third of Bomber Command guys survived, so these two were the elite. There are only 3 of their squadron left alive today.

Ron and Alf (who came home to Australia after the war) stayed in touch. When Roger’s dad, Ron, wrote a book about his experiences a few years back, and Roger published it, Alf supplied his logbooks, photographs, and memories. The two have had more contact since then and Rog has often had email exchanges with Rob Cowley, the son.

So it was pretty astounding to hop on the Manly Ferry from Circular Quay, cross Sydney Harbor to Manly Bay, and walk up the Curso to meet Rob and his wife, Cathy. Even more to feel immediately at ease, as though with old friends. We walked around the beach and dined at the superb Fish Café—oysters, prawns, and Barramundi (local and wonderful). Driving back to the hotel in their car, Rob placed a phone call to Alf, who lives in a nursing home (he’s 94). And there he was! Asking about Ron and Margaret, glad to talk to us, and so pleased that we’d all met up. Small world. But if not for those guys, none of us, nor our children, would be here.