Johann “Hans” Rath 13.6.1925 ~ 15.2.2012
From Twelve Songs, by W. H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Johann (Hans) Rath
13th June 1925 – 15th February 2012
There are three words which come to mind when I think about our father and the life he experienced; ‘commitment’, ‘courage’ and ‘loyalty’.
As a child growing up in his home country Austria he put commitment to his parents and two sisters first. Getting up hours before sunrise to pick berries with his mother to earn extra income for the family was just one of the ways he told us of this. Those early years set the scene for a life rich in both the giving of himself and in his mischievous exploration of his world.
At 16 years of age he joined the German army at the beginning of the Second World War, an adventure which saw him battling the Allies in German-occupied Italy. Dad was always a gentle man and his role during combat was not to fight but to retrieve the killed and wounded from the field. However this did not make his role less dangerous than a combat soldier as he took shrapnel, which later had to be removed in hospital.
One story he recounted with a wry grin was coming face to face with an American soldier while on a lone reconnaissance mission. They both eyed each other up, neither wanting to make the first move. Dad simply informed the American soldier that he would turn around and leave. When he looked back over his shoulder the American was gone and Dad always believed the other soldier never gave him or his unit away.
In 1943 Dad’s unit found themselves in an impossible situation and gave themselves up to the Americans. There followed two years of being a prisoner of war in Africa and then in the USA. When the end of the war was finally announced it took another year before he returned to his hometown, Aschach, on his 21st birthday. In those six years his courage, commitment and loyalty were put to the test as he experienced a world none of us would wish on anyone.
Soon after Dad turned 30 he made a courageous commitment to a new life abroad, with four countries in his sights: the USA, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. Australia got lucky – or at least their paperwork came through first! I like to believe the first and Dad found himself here in 1956 with thousands of other European migrants starting new adventures for themselves.
In his first year here Dad worked in Bonegilla, Wodonga, Glenelg and finally Tanunda where he met our Mum and, to use his words, ‘I got caught!’
Together the two of them worked hard and played hard, with Dad becoming very involved in the Barossa Angling Club and pursuing his love of fishing and butterfly collecting, while Mum pursued her netball. Eventually Dad decided the only way to drag Mum away from the netball was a trip back to Austria where they married in 1960. They then spent the following three years back in Australia working hard in preparation to immigrate back to Austria in 1963. Back in Austria again, the two of them built with their own hands a new home in Dad’s original hometown, Aschach.
I was born in Aschach and my sister Christine was conceived there, but we were never to be raised Austrian as Mum and Dad returned to Australia to care for Mum’s ailing mother back here in Tanunda.
That was then the end of Dad’s travels as soon my brother David appeared on the scene and the commitment and demands of raising a family became the priority.
Perhaps the need for courage was over for a while, but Dad’s commitment and loyalty to his family was never more evident that the years of 7am workday starts, breakfast in bed for Mum every morning and family holidays at Parham with plenty of fishing.
Our Dad worked very hard his entire life to ensure that we had more opportunities in our lives than he did. He was unstoppable, still doing the odd bit of building work for people into his seventies.
Dad’s last years with us really demonstrated that the courage he had needed early in his life was just as strong as ever. His gritty determination in learning to walk again after losing his right leg was as courageous as it comes, and that mischievous twinkle in his eyes was wonderful as he showed off and played up how quickly he overcame each obstacle.
Dad’s legacy to us is not just having given us a life of wonderful opportunities. It is also being privileged to know his amazing life’s story, his gritty courage and the commitment and loyalty to us, his family. Thank you Dad for these wonderful gifts, we are blessed to be your family.
May you rest in peace and be remembered with love.
