Table of Contents

Khaki and Green – with the Australian Army At Home and Oversees (1943:118-120)

 ‘Happy’ Hollow

His story is one of fortitude and all that the human spirit can withstand, especially if reinforced by kindness from others, be they friends or strangers.

Allan Read Hollow, a labourer of humble background, had just turned 20 when he was attested for military service and became ‘Private Hollow’. After the common round of training camps and volunteering for anything which sounded interesting, this shy and skinny light weight joined a commando unit, the 2nd Australian Independent Company, which ultimately embarked for Timor, then supposedly neutral. Disembarking at Koepang, near the island’s south–western tip, it became their job to observe and harass the Japanese who landed in Timor in February 1942.

While the company was dispersed over the island, Hollow’s platoon was at Bazaar–Tete. He was one of 18 men engaging 170 Japanese who were intent upon driving the Australians out. While on patrol with four of his mates they were ambushed and shot up, only an hour’s walk from their headquarters. Two were killed outright and the other three were all wounded, Hollow by far the worst. He later described how, on putting his hand to his face, through the pouring blood he could feel his tongue on his neck. The other two wounded men fried to help him in retreat but, convinced that he was at the point of death and reluctant to watch it, left him to his fate.

Hollow refused to die. He continued to struggle on alone and, indeed, had almost made it back to base when he finally collapsed, through loss of blood. Again that was not the end for Hollow. Two Timorese boys, in hiding nearby, had watched the ambush. Recognising Hollow’s plight, they followed him and, when he collapsed, they ran to his aid and dragged him the final distance up the hillside to his base. One of these boys stayed with him, not for a few hours, but for three whole months.[1] Able to speak only in his native tongue, this Timorese lad managed to convey by action and gesture a telling description of what he had witnessed and continued to do so wherever they went, from place to place, as events were to demand during the ensuing weeks, under the most harrowing conditions.

After a few hours at the RAP under one Corporal Luby[2] all the wounded were moved out, Hollow being carried on a stretcher by four Timorese bearers. This trek lasted six days, during which he was carefully and tediously fed by the Timorese boy who kept him alive on goat’s milk, coconut juice and an occasional raw egg, administered with the aid of an eye–dropper and a spoon. He could swallow only with difficulty while lying flat on his back. While in this state, Hollow remembers feeling an itch where his jaw used to be and soon realised his wounds were crawling with maggots. This was not so horrific as it sounds, because maggots have a therapeutic use in cleaning up foul, discharging wounds. The nightmare trek ended at Hatu–Lia where Hollow, for the first time, was seen by a medical officer, Captain Dunkley[3] who carried out some debridement and delayed stitching of his gaping wounds. The party of wounded moved on quickly, minus Hollow, whose poor general condition forbade further journey. For two weeks he remained in a native hut, his survival still dependent upon the continued care of the Timorese who, despite their pose of neutrality, were unstinting in covert support of the Australians, providing food, shelter and transport wherever possible. Their patient was gradually gaining strength when the village was bombed—a reprisal for the help being given to a wounded Australian. To Hollow’s deep concern, two of his native bearers were injured—he saw one lose an arm. He never knew their ultimate fate and still carries an indelible memory.

Kangaroos in frightened flight jettison their young and helpless but, always at the first opportunity and usually at nightfall, they return to gather them up again. So it was with one of Hollow’s mates, who hailed from the same home town in Western Australia, and who returned from the main party of wounded with a borrowed Timorese pony to take Hollow to the next RAP post at Atsabe. After a further three weeks there with other wounded, under the care of Dr Dunkley and ahead of the Japs, Hollow was taken to a makeshift first-aid post at Ainaro, provided by the local area commandant, officially neutral but again always helpful. By this time he was able to feed himself a little. He could now swallow boiled rice, still lying down, but could not yet manage buffalo meat. A further three weeks passed, during which he was beset with problems of malaria, dysentery and piles. One night he wakened conscious of something moving over and around the foot of his makeshift bunk. Believing it to be a snake, he dared not move until daylight came when he discovered, perched on the foot of the bed, a rooster! This, apparently, was the rooster’s normal territory! Soon afterwards, Hollow suffered a fresh affliction—‘crabs’ (Phthiris pubis)—for which he was quite sure ‘that rooster was to blame’.

The next move was on foot—two days’ walk to Hatu–udo, then on a pony to another Portuguese commandant’s aid centre at Sami. A week there, then a march back over the hills to Hatu–udo and a further day’s journey back to Ainaro where, this time, he remained for a fortnight. As the crow flies, this distance may not have been very far, but they were arduous and difficult treks—over mountainous country, slashed with ravines and ridges. Terrified at times of falling down some ravine, he remembers leaning so much to the safe side that he sometimes fell off his mount. Assured that the donkeys were very sure–footed, he thought ‘there’s always a first time!’.

Off again, on a day’s march to Mape, and a few days later to Beco, whence along the beach to a prospective pick–up rendezvous. Sadly, the pick–up did not materialise and after three days’ wait the despondent little party returned once more to Beco. There, they walked the beach by day and slept in the bush. Salvation eventually came when they were picked up by an American Catalina flying boat, which flew them back to Darwin.

Though Hollow’s wounds were mostly healed by this time, there was profuse discharge, constant dribbling of saliva and an occasional separation of loose bone fragments. It was still only possible for him to eat lying flat and swallow his food whole. From the Navy Hospital in Darwin, he came by stages first to Alice Springs and then to Adelaide. After an X-ray check–up, the surgeon said, ‘This man must be sent straight to Major Rank’. Thus, in June 1942, I first met Private Hollow, a debilitated gargoyle who remained under my care for nearly two years. During this time he was submitted to multiple operations involving extensive soft–tissue reconstruction about his chin area and bone crafting, innumerable sessions of intra–oral splint work and attention by my dental colleagues.

Superimposed on this he suffered no end of personal counselling, badgering, reprimanding—and a modicum of fun. Anaesthetic inductions and their aftermath were not then the easy experience enjoyed today. Our anaesthetist was of the old school and his repeated ether administrations were contemplated with dread. Hollow coped with all this, despite renewed bouts of malaria and despite having but half a face. On what remained, there was no doubt about his smile and the impish twinkle in his eye. His good humour and a keen desire to help with the ward chores quickly endeared him both to the nurses and to the other patients—so much so that Private Allan Read Hollow became universally known as ‘Happy’ Hollow.

Hollow was an integral part of the family atmosphere which developed among these long stayers and soon became the hospital agent for the illegal SP bookies (TAB was non–existent then). He made his rounds of the punters with true commando caution, traversing the whole hospital in the early hours of the morning, dodging night supervisors and always returning to the plastic ward laden with titbits and goodies he had charmed from lockers along the way. ‘Happy’ was part and parcel of the high morale of the Plastic Surgery Unit. With his penchant for exaggeration he briefed all the new patients as to what went on, what to expect and what they could never get away with. Meanwhile, his treatment progressed and the day ultimately came when, after much trial and error, he was actually fitted with a lower denture on his reconstructed jaw. This he paraded with due pride and maximum exposure. When finally he was to be discharged to his home State, he came to say goodbye. I asked him, ‘How do you find your new teeth, Happy?’. ‘Beaut!’, he beamed. ‘Of course, I have to take them out when I eat, but that’s nothing!’ He was indeed happy ‘Happy Hollow’.

A few months after his discharge, I received a beautifully mounted wedding portrait of ‘Happy’ himself, resplendent with a carnation in his buttonhole and his bride beside him in full regalia.

On the back was written: ‘It’s a good question which is the better looking!’. His marriage was fruitful and ‘Happy’ is now the father of seven and the grandfather of six. He spends his life in eternal conflict with authority—yet, the people in the bureaucratic departments concerned must find him very easy to forgive.

His return to civilian life was somewhat unsettled. He moved from job to job until he established his own horticultural nursery. He was born to be his ‘own boss’. The business thrived and is now run by one of his sons. ‘Happy’, still smiling, has no realisation that he is the unsung hero of a saga of suffering and determination which no–one of less fortitude could have survived.

Was ‘Happy’ Hollow just an ordinary man, a victim of extraordinary circumstances—or is it that, at a crucial time in his life, he proved himself an extraordinary man?[4]

Rank, Sir Benjamin K. Heads and Hands – an era of plastic surgery (1987:59-65)

Ambon – Koepang – Rabaul – Timor

The commandos had astonishing physical toughness and will to live, well shown by Private Hollow, who was hit by a burst from a machine which took away the whole of his lower jaw. He lost much blood, but he had to be carried through rough country for three days before a doctor could see him. Moved many times to avoid capture and fed with eggs and milk while lying on his back, Hollow was an inspiration to everybody, as his C.O. later recorded. He was evacuated by seaplane on May 24, 1942 with two other seriously wounded men.

Laffin, John ANZACS at war by (1982:148)

Eulogy: Allan Read Hollow

Childhood & Early Life

We are here today to pay tribute to and remember the life of Allan Read Hollow.  I will be giving an overview of a life filled with challenge, bravery and tenacity.

To some who are gathered here today, he was known as husband, father, grandfather, great grandfather and friend.

Allan was born the fifth child of Henry Frederick Hollow and Olive Read in December of 1920.

His mother Olive had an arm infection that needed an operation but out of concern that it could affect Allan decided not to have it.

Sadly she died a week after the birth as a result of that infection.

Over Allan’s life he carried a burden of blame for his mother’s death even though it was in no way associated with his birth.

His father Henry was a cordial maker and Methodist lay–preacher.

I am sure Henry was grieved at the loss of his wife and was unable to look after the family.

Henry died when Allan was just nine years old and Allan never met him.

Allan’s grandfather Thomas (on his father’s side) died of miners disease more than 10 years before Allan was born and at this time it is unknown what became of his grandmother Mary Jane George.

So Allan and the other children were raised by his mother’s parents James and Martha Read

Allan had great affection for the man he called “pop”.

Despite all of the difficulties he experienced as a young child his was an active child and during his early years broke his wrist and also fell into a laundry copper of boiling water and scalded his arm and shoulder.

As a young man he worked in the mines in Kalgoorlie and according to him was a bit of a larrikin.

War Service

The next part of his life was to be the most profound experience for Allan and has been documented in three post WWII books:

1. His thoughts and feelings in Khaki and Green – with the Australian Army At Home and Oversees printed in 1943
2. ANZACS at war by John Laffin printed in 1982
3. Heads and Hands – an era of plastic surgery by Sir Benjamin K. Rank 1987

We can take his story up from page 59 but portions are taken from the others books also:

Allan having “just turned 20 … this shy skinny lightweight voluntarily enlisted in the army and joined a commando unit the 2^nd Australian Independent Company which ultimately embarked for Timor, then supposedly neutral. 

His serial number was WX13013.

Disembarking at Koepang near the island’s south western tip it was the job of his unit to observe and harass the Japanese who had landed in Timor in 1942.

His platoon was in Basaar-Tete and he was one of 18 men engaging 170 Japanese who were intent on driving the Australian out.

While on patrol on a hillside with four of his mates, they were ambushed just an hour’s walk from headquarters.

Two of them were killed outright and the other three were all wounded, Allan by far the worst having his whole lower jaw shot away by the bust of a machine gun by a sniper who got amongst them.

The other two wounded men tried to help him but convinced that he was near to death left him to his fate.

Allan refused to die however and attempted to make it back but collapsed just short of the base from loss of blood.

Thankfully, two Timorese boys hiding nearby watched the ambush.

Together these boys dragged Allan back to base and one of them stayed with him the whole 3 months he was in Timor.

He was carried out by four Timorese bearers a few hours later and over six days Allan was kept alive being fed by the aid of an eyedropper and a spoon.

It was difficult for him to swallow while lying on his back but he managed to survive on a diet of goat’s milk, coconut juice and the occasional raw egg.

He was an inspiration to everybody as recorded by his Commanding Officer.

His was evidenced by account we found out about recently from a surviving army mate that was with him.

Whilst he was being transported on a stretcher up a mountain, he noticed that Japanese soldiers were approaching.

And even though he could hardly speak (because of his injuries) he motioned to this mate to give him a live hand grenade and pull the pin halfway out.

He then held it close to his chest and somehow communicated that if the Japanese got close enough he would pull out the pin.

Thankfully they didn’t and his nightmare stretcher trek ended when he arrived at Hatu-Lia where he at last received some needed medical attention.

He was then evacuated May 24 1942 by American Catalina flying boat to Darwin.

Returning to Australia

Over the next couple of years he had to endure major plastic surgery, with skin taken from his chest and bone taken from his hips to rebuild his shattered jaw using primitive anaesthetic.

He also endured years of Malaria.

And despite all he endured he became universally known in hospital as Happy Hollow.

He received four medals:

1. 1939 to 1945 Star
2. Pacific Star
3. Empire Medal
4. Australian Service Medal 1939 – 1945

He also carried another medal which was the scars on his face.

Home and Family

He then returned home and married Hazel Hollow and had seven children six boys and one girl.

He was employed in a number of jobs such as storeman, nurseryman and to begin with as a bus driver.

He chose to be employed as a bus driver so that he could learn to face the public despite still having a disfigured face.

Allan was provided with a war service block of land and lived in that same house with various combinations of the family until fairly recently.

Early in their married life Allan and Hazel were confronted with a decision on how they would cope with a mentally and physically disabled son Jimmy and unanimously decided to be his primary caregivers.

Together they took care of Jimmy for 50 years.

Allan was a person that had a lot of nervous energy and wanted to keep his mind and hands busy all the time so he seemed to always be doing something from building things to betting on the horse races (and seemed pretty good at it) to looking for ways to help family members.

He had continuing arthritic pain in his hips from the operations that were performed and it was not uncommon to see him up in the middle of the night just sitting.

I am sure in hindsight that his priorities were not always the best for his family but one thing I know is that his heart always was generally in the right place. 

He also had a very strong point of view and would debate it passionately.

He could also be stubborn to the extent that he would not move on certain issue but I am sure that came from the sum total of his life experience.

As family members some of us felt intimidated by him because of his ability to be inflexible and debate issues but over time we all started to see him differently.

I guess there is only so much you give when you split it eight ways especially if there is a high dependency child in the mix.

I am number five of seven and can say of dad that he was many things.

I once asked him why he had so many children and he simply said: “because I love children” that was the one and only time I heard him use the word “love”.

What I will remember can be summed up in part of what his son Kim & family said in tribute:

He knew that you were suffering,

He knew you’d had your share,

He gently closed your weary eyes,

And took you to his care.

This was true of my experience during my teen years at home.  Dad would often come to where I was with friends and (out of the blue) simply ask, “Are you warm enough” if it was cold or “would you like something to eat”.

He was always generous in giving and although not demonstrative in his affection for others he would show empathy and concern for others by giving of his material resources and gifts trying to help where ever he could.

When I served my mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints he helped financially even though he was not a member of the Church.

He also helped local Missionaries with food and other things over the years.

I know that he also made monetary contributions to the people in Timor because of his great affection that they repeatedly showed for Aussie Diggers despite being supposedly neutral position during the WWII.

For those here who have traditions of faith or spirituality, we know that it is indeed the struggles, tests and battles within and without that can help us to develop inner strength, devotion and dedication.

Because dad seemed to have a fear of death, I have taken the opportunity to talk to him about the eternal nature of life and life beyond death on one occasion whilst taking him in a wheelchair for a trip around the block near our old family home.

Having him as a captive audience, I suggested that he should place an each way bet on what is to come – remembering not to be stubborn and when he gets to the next place to go in eyes wide open.

Likewise last Friday just six hours before he past away and when he could only just nod or shake his head in response to us, I asked if he was scared and he shook his head for no (which was unusual for him because he previously feared death) and I also asked if he believed he would be going to another place (better) and he nodded yes.

It was wonderful for all of us (as his immediate family) to say goodbye to him since Easter, last Friday and just the family today at a viewing.

I for one have great happiness in the knowledge that he is in a better place and know he is with loved ones.

For those he has left behind we can say that he has touched our lives in profound ways.

I have observed that as we have learned about service from him—in that three of his sons served in the military following his legacy, one in fulltime missionary service (that would be me) and one who now drives a bus (just like his dad) in service of the public.

His daughter has raised a family and loves to serve others always beyond the call.

We have also learned about good living principles and values with strong and supportive families of our own.

Jimmy Hollow who is now in supportive care followed the example of Allan and Hazel Hollow and was the very best person he could be as witnessed by all those who knew him whilst he lived in Findon for more than 50 years.

The man Allan Read Hollow was not always easy to get along with but I believe he was a very honest and moral man.

I like how Sir Benjamin Rank spoke of him at the beginning of the section on Allan in his book under the heading of Happy Hollow:

“His story is one of fortitude and all that the human spirit can withstand, especially if reinforced by kindness from others, be they friends or strangers.”

Thank you all for attending today as a sign of respect for Allan.

Lest we forget!

Khaki and Green – with the Australian Army At Home and Oversees (1943:118-120) Published for The Australian Military Forces by Australian War Memorial, Canberra ACT

Rank, Sir Benjamin K. Heads and Hands – an era of plastic surgery (1987:59-65) Gower Medical Publishing London 

Laffin, John ANZACS at war by (1982:148) Horwitz Grahame Books Pty Ltd Cammeray NSW