When she set off in search of her father's war grave, Tina Mowbray had no inkling that the journey would involve a meeting with a king and her own brush with conflict.
Mrs Mowbray grew up in the South Australian south-east town of Millicent without ever knowing her father, Captain Bryan James Hemmings.
By the time Mrs Mowbray was born in 1941, Captain Hemmings had already been deployed with the 2/43rd Battalion to fight in World War II.
He died from wounds on November 5, 1942 at El Alamein in Egypt.
"I was never able to say 'daddy'," said Mrs Mowbray, who was only one at the time of her father's death.
When her mother Molly was informed of the tragic news — which was delivered via telegram by a young boy — she was left "traumatised".
"One friend said she was never the same," Mrs Mowbray recalled.
As a result, Mrs Mowbray was raised mostly by her grandmother.
"Thank God for Granny — she was wonderful," she said.
Since the age of 10, Mrs Mowbray had promised herself she would one day visit her father's grave in El Alamein.
Barely a dozen years later, in 1965, she set out to make that happen.
An audience with a king
At the age of 23, Mrs Mowbray flew to England and then drove with friends from Munich to Jerusalem, where she purchased a cheap ticket to Cairo.
But Mrs Mowbray's husband Melton said it was in Aqaba on the way to Jerusalem that the adventures really began.
"The bus had broken down, and she broke down too. She thought she was going to miss her plane to Cairo," Mr Mowbray said.
"The desert police found the British High Commissioner was there … he said, 'We'll give you a ride in'.
"So they went to Amman … and of course, they had to attend a reception with King Hussein of Jordan."
A short time later, Mrs Mowbray found herself in the presence of royalty.
"The commissioner's wife was about the same size, so she lent Tina a beaded cardigan, and she had in her bag a nice dress," Mr Mowbray said.
"King Hussein was a short fellow, and you're not supposed to be higher than the king in those days, so she had to be sort of crouched down all the time."
Mrs Mowbray then flew to Cairo — but only after the drive to Jerusalem had brought her into a conflict zone.
"On the plane, it was explained to her that it could've been the target," Mr Mowbray said.
But Mrs Mowbray was not one to pale easily.
"That's why the tickets were cheap," she said.
"I had long said, 'What will be will be'."
She was seated next to a major from the Jordanian Army, who spoke English.
Mrs Mowbray said he was "alarmed" by her plans, and insisted on helping by putting her up with friends who lived in the apartment above him.
At 5am the next day, Mrs Mowbray, the major, and his two friends began the 400-kilometre final stretch of the journey to El Alamein.
Finding her father's resting place "was pretty emotional", Mrs Mowbray said.
Surrounded by the graves of other fallen young soldiers, she realised "there were other people like me" who had grown up without fathers.
The encounter helped put an end to the nightmares she had experienced since childhood.
"They stopped after I saw his grave," she said.
Lived a hero, died a hero
Almost 60 years on, the family still keeps Captain Hemmings's trunk, which was delivered back to Australia upon his death.
While there were many things to be found inside — a swagger stick, a belt, buttons and badges – there was one item that was particularly special.
In a letter to Molly, Captain Hemmings had written:
"I bought a new cap the other day and have the latest snap of you and Christina tucked under the celluloid inside. When I am travelling I just take my cap off and place it on my knees and there is Molly and Christina looking up at me."
Two portraits have been commissioned of Captain Hemmings; one still hangs in the house of Mrs Mowbray's son, James.
"When I've been looking for inspiration, my grandfather has always been there," James said.
"He lived the hero, and he died the hero."
Captain Hemmings also inspired his other grandson, Andrew, to serve.
"You hear about what a remarkable man he was … when people choose to do service, it's real," Andrew said.
"It's always surprised me that you can feel the absence of someone you never met."
