Dawn on October 21, 1944, off Leyte Island in the South Pacific. Nineteen-year-old Warwick Johanson, the pride of his working class Kangaroo Flat family, is at his signalman’s post high and just aft of the bridge on the pride of his nation’s navy, its flagship HMAS Australia. It is part of the US 7th landings in the Philippines and will confront most of the Japanese navy, concentrated in a last-ditch attempt to prevent the advance of the allies.

Soon an attacking Japanese Aichi dive-bomber is hit by anti-aircraft fire and turns, seemingly deliberately lining up the Australia. Its wing root ploughs into the foremast, ripping it from the deck and sending it toppling forward, before the plane’s fuselage smashes into the bridge spraying fire and oil. The collision and fire will kill seven officers and 23 sailors, and injure 61 more. 

In an interview six decades later, survivor Johanson describes a “red-letter day” for the Australian Navy; the day its flagship suffers what some describe as the war’s first kamikaze attack. The Australia is to be hit five times more by suicide dive-bombers, limping through the war but proudly flying young Johanson’s flags until its victorious end. 

That date, 21 October, means little to most of us, but it was to define a life surely as well led as by any Bendigonian before him. 

It was not, though, his birth date. Warwick Niven Johanson was born in Echuca on December 28, 1924 - the son of Violet and Percy, a Kangaroo Flat-born coach-builder who might have chosen a better profession given the ascension of the motor car in the Twenties. With the Great Depression looming, the family moved in search of work, first to Echuca then to Melbourne before coming home to the ‘Flat. 

Showing an ingenuity inspired by need, Percy Johanson turned his coach-building skills to the motor age by building a bus that was to become the first vehicle in a soon-to-be-burgeoning Kangaroo Flat Bus Lines business. 

His straitened upbringing was to define young Warwick’s character – work hard, be frugal, cherish family and friends, be accountable and be thankful. "I had an ideal childhood," he would always maintain. "I was born into a close, loving family."

His independence and business nous were apparent from a young age. Rabbits were plentiful and a godsend for a young bloke looking for pocket money. Weekend hauls would be hawked around the neighbourhood for a shilling a pair and Warwick fondly recalled an organised rabbit drive that netted 996 victims in one paddock. (Must have been a big paddock.)

One of only two ‘Flat Primary boys to go on to high school, Warwick obtained his leaving in 1940, successfully sitting the public service exam before ditching the security of that post at age 17 to join the navy in the early threatening days of World War II. 

At home on leave one day he met Yvonne Friswell, accepting her dad’s offer of a ride back to Melbourne and his ship. Three days later, "Miss Friswell" received a letter asking if she might attend the pictures with Warwick when next he was ashore. "Mum can’t even recollect dad talking to her for the whole car trip," recalls son Dennis. Nevertheless, that letter was to spark a romance that culminated in a 67-year marriage that embodied the Christian ideals of love and commitment.

Returning from the war, Warwick started a new life at Bendigo’s Ordnance Factory, studying accountancy at night. On graduating, he joined in partnership with Reg Ham to form the antecedent firm of today’s Richmond Sinnott Delahunty. 

But it was his life beyond the firm that was to define Warwick Johanson in the eyes of two generations of his townsfolk. A simple list of his community engagement and service is impressive enough, and should be recorded, but it was the character he brought to those roles that was to make more of an impression on those whose paths he crossed.

• As Chairman of Sandhurst Trustees he was instrumental in its merger with Bendigo Building Society.

• As a director of that Society, he oversaw its transition to Bendigo Bank.

• President Bendigo Rotary Club.

• A visionary Chairman of St Laurence Court, he was instrumental in the building of the complexes at Cal Gully and Kangaroo Flat where a wing bears his name.

• Secretary, Kangaroo Flat Fire Brigade.

• Treasurer, Kangaroo Flat Football Club.

• Councillor, Anglican Parish of Kangaroo Flat.

• Adviser Anglican Diocese of Bendigo.

• Treasurer Kangaroo Flat RSL.

At his funeral at his home church of St Mary’s Anglican, Kangaroo Flat, this week a packed congregation was itself a tribute. "Dad used to say the older you get the smaller the funeral," son Dennis recalled. 

The service was conducted by Bishop Ron Stone, Canon Bryn Jones and the Very Rev. John Roundhill. Unable to attend, Bishop Andrew Curnow nonetheless ensured his own tribute was present. In a day of superlatives about a man’s character and contribution, it perhaps best summed up a remarkable life: "One of the true statesmen of Bendigo in the 20th community and leadership of Sandhurst Trustees, and his association with other organisations was outstanding." 

Sons Robert – himself chairman of Bendigo and Adelaide Bank – and Dennis spoke warmly and entertainingly of their dad’s life, before daughter Annette’s scripture reading. Granddaughter Michelle Bowman recalled a ‘parps’ well qualified – "an expert on so many subjects" – to provide life lessons like manners, courtesy and humility. All of Warwick’s seven grandchildren and five great grandchildren were present. 

Bishop Stone trumped the public praises showered on Warwick Johanson this past week with three of his own that found nodding heads throughout the congregation – "a man of integrity; generous; self-effacing".

Best of all, the service heard from the man himself in an engrossing video interview about his wartime service and a life he considered "fortunate".

Warwick Niven Johanson died around dawn on the morning of October 21 – that date again – almost to the minute exactly 70 years after his near-death experience aboard the Australia. It happens to be a date deeply etched in a sailor’s mind – Trafalgar Day, the commemoration of that greatest of all naval victories in 1805.

The Japanese hit on young Johanson’s vessel was one of the earliest strikes in a battle that has seemingly faded from public memory but which remains the mightiest sea battle ever fought, the Battle of Leyte Gulf. Such was the damage inflicted on Japan’s navy over those few October days that it never again threatened the free world. 

So, October 21: two great victories, and one seaman’s death 70 years on that at first blush looks like life’s greatest defeat. But as wife Yvonne noted, if he is with his family and his mates from the navy, is it not a victory too?