On November 29, 1954, I flew the Minister assisting the Prime Minister, Mr Reg Swartz, to Marina Plains where we stayed overnight with Vic Cummings.

Vic had recently married and I called on his wife, who lived in Cairns, before we took off, offering to take anything she wanted to send to her husband. She wrote a letter there and then and made up a parcel of biscuits, cakes and jams she had made. They had not long been married and I knew they were missing one another very much.

Once pleasantries were over I handed Vic the letter and parcel which he quickly pounced upon, remarking that this was the first letter he had had from her in three months. I sensed Vic wanted to be alone to read his letter, so I took Reg Swartz by the arm, saying we would visit Willy and Lena Webb, an old Aboriginal couple of whom I had become very fond.

“Is that correct, Bob,” said Reg, as we headed towards Willy’s camp. “Has this poor beggar had no mail for three months?” “Yes, that would be correct,” I replied. “Is there no mail service to Marina Plains?” “Yes, there is. Micky Feinn comes through once a fortnight with the packhorse mail, heading for Coen from Laura, by way of all stations in between, but for the last three months he has been held up at Laura with floods, unable to move.”

“Do you mean to say that none of the stations between Laura and Coen have had any mail for three months?” “Yes, I do — and all the stations beyond Coen as well.”

I could see Reg had something on his mind. “Why don’t you do the mail run Bob, by plane?”