December 1971 would be a special time for our family as my husband, Noel, would be returning home from a tour of duty with the Australian Army in Vietnam. He had served at the first Australian Field Hospital in Vung Tau.

Around November each year in the far northern part of Australia begins what is known as the wet season - 30 degrees Celsius, torrential rains and often cyclones. We had been living in this part of the country for just more than three years, having moved from our island home on Tasmania in 1968 when Noel joined the army. The extremes of temperature and humidity which we encountered in the north were difficult to cope with at first, but this December would be wonderful no matter what the weather brought.Our four children, ages 10-14, were very excited at the prospect of having Dad home again, especially in time for Christmas. The great evening arrived and we were out at the airport along with many other army families to greet our loved ones and welcome them home. It was just one week before Christmas day.

The following week was oppressively hot and humid and around Dec. 22, we were made aware that a cyclone was forming off the north east coast of Queensland, in the Coral Sea.

By Christmas Eve, the cyclone warning center was broadcasting notices that Cyclone Althea was northeast of Townsville and was expected to cross the coast around Christmas Day. It was heading directly for us. By this time, yards had been cleared of debris. Water was collected. Windows were taped to prevent or minimize broken glass. Roofs were checked and made as secure as possible. Those of us who had been wise enough to have a food storage were grateful that we had heeded the Lord's admonition.

When a cyclone is imminent, the radio stations give warning announcements every 15 minutes. These were heralded by what became, for me at least, the most terrifying whooping siren sound. Amidst this terror, all of Townsville heard the calming, reassuring voice of Graham Golding, a radio announcer who was also a member of the Church. Brother Golding's voice almost became a lifeline in those few terrifying hours before the cyclone struck, and certainly was for many days afterwards.

After an almost sleepless night, early morning found us as prepared as possible under the circumstances. We went to the strongest part of the house, the passageway, and surrounded ourselves with mattresses from the beds. We had a supply of water and the scriptures and we had placed ourselves in the hands of the Lord. There the children and I sat as Noel held the windows open on the far side of the house away from the direction of the winds. This was a precaution to alleviate the pressure of air that builds up inside a building. The piercing agonizing screams of wind, and the noise of the roof of the house next to ours, tearing from its moorings and blowing across our house and yard, are noises that live with me still. That roof damaged the five houses next to ours, piercing through walls, damaging roofs and fences, but caused no problems for us.

Finally the winds stopped, and a strange eerie silence surrounded the city. We mistakenly thought this was the "eye" of the storm, but it was actually the end. The wind speed gauge in the city had disintegrated at around 230 kph. Devastation was everywhere, houses blown to pieces, roofs gone from some, other homes lying limply where they had been uprooted, windows blown out, and curtains hanging wanly, as if in shock. Huge tropical palms uprooted and thrown like match sticks across roadways, cars crushed, and some flung in abandonment against or under buildings. The roadway to the army hospital where Noel worked was plowed up and flung into the sea by the mighty hand of nature.

People emerged from their houses to inspect their homes, and those of their near neighbors. Our neighbors, who had lost their roof, had sheltered for a time in a built-in wardrobe. The family of four came to shelter at our home as soon as the winds began to abate. Shock at the devastation showed in the faces of each person we saw. Church members gathered at the local chapel which was later used for a time as a shelter for some people left without homes. The only real damage done to any member's property was the roof of the branch president's photography studio. As Relief Society president, I contacted every family I could. There was no electricity, and telephone lines were down for some time. It would be almost a week before power was restored to the majority of the homes. Many were left with no means of cooking Christmas supplies. Roads south were cut and the airport became the city's lifeline.

Our home was in the suburb called Vincent. It was one of two suburbs built specifically for army personnel. Some homes depended entirely on electricity for their power supply while others had electric lighting with gas stoves and hot water systems. Ours was in an area serviced by gas and so we were able to cook, and cook we did, all of Christmas day and into the next week. People shared what supplies they had with those less-prepared. Some members worked on repairing roofs. One sister with five children of her own, worked for almost six weeks helping repair roofs. We shared clothing, food, homes, transport; everything we had we shared. The army personnel were wonderful. Members, organized into work parties, were assigned to all parts of the city and worked on clearing and cleaning Townsville.

No time before or since has our family experienced anything like that Christmas. Some things we wouldn't want to share again, but the sharing of gifts and blessings gave us an insight into what the spirit of Christmas is all about. We will never forget our best Christmas ever.

- Pam Bye is the gospel doctrine teacher in the Burnie Branch, Devonport Australia Stake. She also serves as a teacher in Relief Society, family history consultant with her husband and family history assistant librarian.