From a post-war refugee to a world leader in metallurgy, Prof Nick Standish’s life is an extraordinary story of random accidents and chance meetings – some threatening, others fortuitous. DAVID TURNBULL continues his series of profiles of Canberrans with a story. 

Nick Standish has an image burnt into his memory he can never erase.

It is the sight of a German Luftwaffe commandant telling him in 1944: “You are guilty of sabotaging German planes. You will be shot.”

Nick was 12 at the time, and the commandant emphasised his threat by cutting his hand across his throat.

When Nick contacted me suggesting a story on his life, he told me jokingly: “I’ve used up eight of my lives. I’ve only got one left, so you better be quick.” 

Even at 93, he says the recollection of the commandant’s threat is as vivid as it was in 1945.

Are you haunted by that image, I ask.

“No, he replies, but I will never forget it.”

In some ways, how that terrible threat came about, and how Nick survived is comical.

He says he and two other cadets had cut a tree down for Christmas and with childlike naivety had thought they could get some lights for the tree out of a plane’s control panel.

They were caught by security guards and the commandant did not believe the innocence of their explanation.

They were jailed but five weeks later, released for a few days not to upset a visiting general. Before being returned to jail Nick’s unit was transferred to another town called Gmund. 

There he was told by the local commandant that he would remain under house arrest. With the allies approaching, though, the base descended into chaos and he was forgotten.

“He had much bigger things to worry about.”

Random accidents, chance meetings

Nick’s life is an extraordinary story of random accidents, chance meetings – some threatening, others fortuitous.

He was born in 1932 in Yugoslavia, of Russian ancestry.

His father had a doctorate in law and held a senior position in the public service.

When the war came Nick, and his older brother, Serge, his seriously ill mother, and his father “lived like gypsies moving from place to place” as the German occupation spread”.

Eventually, Nick’s father joined a white Russian unit of the German Army and Nick and his brother were sent to a Russian Military School in Yugoslavia and two years later conscripted into the Luftwaffenhelfer – the German Air Force assistants corps.

All the teenage boys across Germany were recruited into this corps in 1942, but two years later sent to the front and their places filled by teenage boys like Nick from other countries. 

He spent most of the war at an airfield in Eger, Sudetenland, luckily avoiding direct bombing raids, until the last days.

The father he had not seen in two years

In March1945, he left Gmund with all the other cadets bound for Munich.

But in transit one night, in Salzburg, Austria, he found himself in trouble when he couldn’t pay for a coffee because his wallet had been stolen.

As the café owner got aggressive, Nick met eyes with a man sitting with a group of German officers and recognised the father he had not seen in two years.

Even retelling this now, his eyes water with emotion.

Nick’s mother died during the war, and with Europe in ruins after the armistice Nick spent four years moving around Austria from one “displaced persons’ camp” to another. 

“We came to Australia as refugees and spent a few weeks at Bonegilla Immigration camp near Albury.

“No money, no language. Nothing.”

“My father had been one of the leading legal, high hot-shots in Yugoslavia, but to be accepted in Australia he needed a manual skill.

“He got a certificate to milk cows.” 

Like all “New Australians” Nick was desperate for employment and said “yes” to any offer.

“My first job was as a translator for the NSW Railways.

“I guess they thought that because I came from Europe I could help them with all the people they were hiring.

“Problem was, I could hardly speak English.”

Nick had finished high school just before migrating to Australia in 1949 and had a natural talent for mathematics.

He ended up doing metallurgy at the old Sydney Technical College at Ultimo.

Again, simply by saying “yes” when asked if he wanted to go into the Railways Engineering Shop.

“I had no idea what I was agreeing to, and the people asking the questions knew about as much as me.” 

Working by day and studying at night

Nick completed a diploma in metallurgy at tech. With poor English, he failed the first year, then excelled, and was invited to run the metallurgy lab at what was then the NSW University of Technology.

Working by day and studying at night, by 1959 he’d gained his Bachelor of Science and in 1961 Master of Science degrees.

With the same committed work routine, he took a teaching job at the University of Otago, in NZ, and completed a PhD focused on blast furnace aerodynamics.

In December 1965 he was appointed to run the metal production department at the new Wollongong University.

With the Port Kembla steel plant nearby, Wollongong University embraced the challenge of providing BHP with the highly qualified steel makers they needed, and Nick Standish was the driving force behind the partnership.

World renowned and in demand

As the years passed, and his papers and books were published he became world renowned, and was in demand as a consultant in Indonesia, China, Germany, Luxembourg and Canada.

Here’s just one example of his impact.

The four blast furnaces that Prof Standish worked on with Thyssen-Krupp in Germany now produce roughly 11.4 million tonnes of hot metal a year and have outlasted all industry standards. 

The jewel in his crown of international achievements, though, is a University of Wollongong co-operative program with PT Krakatau Steel and the Universitas Tirtayasa in Cilegon, Indonesia. 

This project commenced in 1992 and was the first major sortie of the University into international teaching and research. In all, he helped 34 students attain PhDs.

“You ask me what my motivation was?

“I don’t know really, so much of what has happened in my life has been pure accident.

“But it is true the hardships I experienced in the war gave me determination. Resilience.

“I think I just always wanted to be better than my father.

“He was a doctor of law, a big shot, and I became a professor and a bigger shot than him!”

Journalist David Turnbull is writing a series of profiles about interesting Canberrans. Do you know someone we’ve never heard of? Share the name in an email to David via editor@citynews.com.au