Max Dunn - Third President of SCA (NSW)

  The sun was just creeping above the eastern horizon and the Australian pilot of the Hawker Hurricane fighter, Z3339, Max Dunn, looked down at the shadowy outline of the French countryside--enemy territory. It was June 16th 1941 and it was three days short of his 25th birthday. He looked right and left, reassuringly seeing the silhouettes of the other five aircraft of “B” Flight of 258th Squadron Royal Air Force (RAF). They were on the lookout for enemy transport and armour, which could be on the move below. Then, without warning, out of the intercom,

                     “Bandits, 11 o’clock!”

    And, in a heartbeat, the world became a whirling, jinking dance with death, as multiple aerial duels broke out.  

   The Hurricanes were heavily outnumbered by the German Messerschmitt fighters and the Flight Leader gave the order to break. Dunn had seen at least two planes spiral out of control, unsure if they were friend or foe. He was too busy trying to find his targets and, at the same time, evade the enemy fighters, which appeared on his tail with all too regular frequency. After one such desperate evasion, Dunn’s fuel indicator showed that he was losing fuel.

                    “Damn! The fuel tank’s been holed.”

    He put the aircraft into a dive and headed for the coast, unsure how fast he was losing fuel. After no more than five minutes, Dunn knew he had next to no chance of getting back to England. He was, by this time, out over the English Channel and knew that he had no alternative but to bail out. With the last of his fuel, he put the aircraft into a steep climb to gain enough height to survive the parachute jump. When he had reached a sufficient altitude, he levelled out and pushed back the canopy; checked his seat belt was off; did a last check of his ‘chute; and disconnected his oxygen and radio. He then rolled the aircraft onto its back and fell out into the 200kmh slipstream, hoping that he would not strike his head on the tail assembly on the way out.

G-HUPW. Hawker Hurricane Mk - Is the only Battle of Britain Hurricane still flying. Image from a photograph by Adrian Pingstone 

   The sea was relatively calm for once as Dunn hit the still freezing water. Fortunately, he was quickly able to disentangle himself from the lines and the shroud, no easy task. He inflated his Mae West lifejacket and felt himself float easily on the surface. He knew he was closer to France than England, but what would the next few hours hold?  Little did he know that for the next 17 hours, he would float in the sea waiting to be picked up and, as the hours dragged on, the question of whether he would be found at all, began to nag at the back of his mind.

   Cold, thirsty and very worried, Max Dunn floated in the English Channel all that day and, as the summer sun was setting, Dunn realised that he faced a dangerous, dark night in the water. But, suddenly, out of the fading light, came the throb of powerful marine engines and a German “E” Boat appeared. Waving for all he was worth, Dunn initially feared that he had not been seen, but, then, the sleek patrol boat altered course towards him. Once they realised he was an enemy airman, would they pick him up or leave him? The boat hove to alongside and willing hands quickly hauled him aboard and the boat pulled away, not wanting to be a sitting target for any aircraft, which might happen by.

   Within 3 days, Dunn was being welcomed to Stalag Luft 111, a German Prisoner of War camp, near Sagan, in occupied Poland. The Commandant greeted him with,

                              “Happy birthday, Flying Officer Dunn.”

    Dunn would spend the next three birthdays at Stalag Luft 111 as a prisoner of war.

   Max Dunn had been amongst the first group of Australian pilots to join the Royal Australian Air Force when World War II began in 1939 and he was one of the first to be shipped overseas in September 1940 to fight as part of the RAF. He fought in the last weeks of the Battle of Britain, a crucial contest which ensured that Britain retained control of the skies and so avoided invasion. For the next eight months Dunn flew countless combat missions over Britain, the Channel and occupied France until his arrival in Stalag Luft 111.

   Stalag Luft 111 was a camp solely for Allied Air Force officers, set up by Hermann Goering, the head of the Luftwaffe and, himself, a World War 1 fighter ace. The camp, in Upper Silesia in Poland, was staffed exclusively by German Luftwaffe (Air Force) personnel, who were either too old for active service or were recovering from serious wounds. The treatment of prisoners proved to be much more humane in this camp than in many others. When Max Dunn arrived in June 1941, it was a relatively small camp, but as the war progressed and the Allied bombing campaign of Germany increased over the next four years, the size of the camp increased exponentially. Stalag Luft 111 went from one small compound to five large ones, grouped around a central administrative and medical hub—a veritable super camp.

   During his captivity, Dunn kept a diary and wrote poetry. The diaries and his poems are still in the proud possession of his family. His diary tells us that he spent time taking classes in psychology and accounting and also participating in a host of different sports competitions, which were a prominent feature of camp life. After the war, Dunn was always eager to tell anyone that he had represented Australia at five sports: rugby; cricket; athletics; tennis; and ice hockey. Dunn was also involved in the constant tunnelling that took place in the camp and, like nearly everyone in the camp, he was involved in getting rid of soil.  These escape tunnels involved hundreds of men, since the tunnels had to be dug long distances; the walls shored up with timber scavenged from dormitories; and, importantly, the soil had to be distributed all over the camp, without alerting the guards. On top of this there were civilian clothes to make and documents to forge, so there were jobs for everyone.

Interior of a hut Stalag Luft III in about 1943 - The identities of the prisoners is unknown. Image SUK11285 Australian War Memorial collection

   Two of the best-known escapes of World War Two occurred at Stalag Luft 111, while Dunn was a prisoner there. The “Wooden Horse” escape, in which three British airmen used a vaulting horse to shield their tunnelling took place in October 1943 and allowed the escapees to successfully reach neutral Sweden and, eventually, home to England. In April 1944, the “Great Escape” took place, in which 76 prisoners managed to liberate themselves through long tunnels under the wire.  Contrary to the Hollywood version, this was an escape solely by British and Commonwealth airmen, but unfortunately, within days, 73 were recaptured and Hitler ordered that 50 of them be executed as an example to other would-be escapees. One of Dunn’s poems is called “To the Fifty” and was written to commemorate the loss of these escapees:

    Throughout the weary years of strife in this war and the last,

    Full many men in prime of life in many ways have passed

    Beyond our ken: We mourn them all.

    Small wonder then

    That we should grieve when we see fall

    Such gallant men as were our comrades.

    They served their country in the air on many a fighting raid

    Until shot down: they did their share

    Gave of their best to aid their cause and win the fight for peace.

    We mourn them all

    And wish them “Happy Landings” without cease

    In Warriors’ Hall, with all our comrades.

   By January 1945, the war was drawing to a close and Russian forces were advancing rapidly from the East. The German guards at Stalag Luft 111, knowing full well what their fate would be if they were to fall into the hands of the Russians, made the decision to abandon the camp. Just before midnight, on 27th January 1945, nearly 12,000 prisoners from Stalag Luft 111 were forced to march 80 kilometres west towards the advancing American forces. The conditions were appalling. A severe blizzard had raged for the week prior; the temperature was below freezing; and it was snowing heavily. Groups of 200 prisoners were rotated throughout the night to clear the road ahead for the main party, and with only one stop during the entire journey, many men dropped out and were left where they fell by the German guards. Dunn had fashioned a walking stick to aid him on this terrible trek and that stick is, today, one of the Dunn family’s most prized possessions. Eventually, most prisoners made it to Spremberg in eastern Germany and, within three days, were moved again, this time by train, to the area around Nuremberg. Max Dunn and his comrades were finally liberated on 29th April 1945 by the United States 14th Armoured Division.

   Soon after arriving back in Australia in September 1945, Max Dunn married Barbara Paton and their marriage lasted more than 50 years. He undertook further studies in accountancy and went to work for the Vacuum Oil Company and, later, for Ericsson Telecoms, where he worked his way up to the position of Managing Director. Dunn retired in 1977 at the age of 60. Finding retirement not to his liking, Dunn explored other business opportunities, including the purchase of a marina in Pittwater and an oyster lease further north. However, he decided that strata management, still very much in its infancy, matched his skill set. One doubts that any AGM could throw up an issue, which would faze a man who had flown countless fighter combat missions and spent four years as a POW. He set up his office in Raine and Horne Real Estate at 284 Victoria Avenue Chatswood in 1978 and called his company, Max Dunn and Associates. Within a year he leased a separate office, upstairs in the same building, and the business started to take off. Incidentally, this office was the registered office of the Institute of Strata Title Management from the late 1980’s until January 1996.

    One of the most prestigious annual awards, which SCA(NSW) can bestow upon one of its members, is the Max Dunn Award. It is awarded to the member whom the Board believes has most contributed to collegiality, friendship and harmony amongst its membership. The award was first proposed to the Board by the long serving Director and first Life Member of ISTM, David Le Page, in 1999. Le Page volunteered to pay for the award himself, which he did for several years. The board unanimously accepted Le Page’s recommendation and kind offer and, so, the Max Dunn Award was created. This award is a fitting legacy to a man, who was not only a stalwart of the strata industry, but also a man who went out of his way to support and befriend his fellow managers and their families.

   Max Dunn was one of the true pioneers of the strata industry and he and his family played a prominent part in the history of that industry in New South Wales. Max Dunn began his strata management business, Max Dunn & Associates, in the late 1970’s and, in February 1981, he was one of the first managers to join the newly established ISTM, as SCA(NSW) was known until 2010. Max Dunn was appointed to the Board of ISTM in July 1981 and was Treasurer for five years and, then, President from 1989 until 1992.

   Max’s son, Alistair, joined the family business after a career with Qantas, and he, too, became a Director of ISTM in 1994, serving as President from 1996 until 1999. Max Dunn’s daughter, Heather Fardy, also worked in the family strata business during the 1980’s and she has the distinction of being the first paid employee of ISTM, being appointed as the Administration Secretary in 1984, for four hours per week at $12 an hour.

Max Dunn was awarded Life Membership of ISTM/SCA(NSW) in 1997 and Alastair in 2012. Norman Maxwell Dunn passed away in 1999 and he should be given the last word. It comes from one of the poems he wrote, whilst in captivity at Stalag Luft 111. The poem is entitled “To My Friends” and it typifies the character and spirit of the man, after whom the award for engendering friendship amongst members of the strata management industry was named.

   Count your blessings, so we’re bidden, add them up–then choose the best,

   Guard it jealously and strongly shield it-never mind the rest.

    So, I count my blessings over, list them all with thoughtful care,

    And the blessing I place highest, is to me, beyond compare.

    Fame and fortune, wealth and honours, these rely on whims of chance,

     But I have one prized possession, staunch throughout life’s crazy dance.

     For provided I act straightly, till this great adventure ends,

     Fate can never rob me of the friendship of my friends.

Max Dunn, according to those who knew him, always acted “straightly” and always cherished his friends.