"Hi Mike," the caller's voice said down the telephone.

"It's Dave Ringland here. My daughter Pip bought me your recent history book on Port Stephens called Past Port for Father's Day.

"It reminded me of a lot of things and all about the good times we had up there over the years."

I've known Dave for years. He's a great bloke with an interesting life. A former school teacher and lifesaver, he once had a surfboat named after him while president of Dixon Park Surf Club.

His grandfather managed the famous old Winda Wopper timber mill, at Hawks Nest, and his own dad once also worked there. That was the mill owned by Sir Allen Taylor who twice became Sydney's Lord Mayor - today's Taylor Square, Darlinghurst, is named after the timber merchant.

So, when Dave said he might have a yarn for me, my ears pricked up.

He had an unknown story about the 'Battle of the River Plate' off South America in my book. That's when the German pocket battleship, the 'Admiral Graf Spee' was being hunted by English warships back in December 1939 at the start of World War II.

His interest was in the five streets off Shoal Bay Avenue named after the British force of light cruisers 'Ajax', 'Exeter' and 'Achilles' and its British Commodore (Henry Harwood) and the neutral port of Montevideo where the damaged, but superior, German raider, or panzerschiff, briefly sought shelter.

Once the pride of Hitler's navy, the 'Graf Spee' had sunk nine vessels before being confronted by the British fleet followed by a desperate naval battle. Her raiding range was greatly extended by being supplied with munitions and fuel by two German supply ships, meeting up at secret ocean locations.

Bluffed, however, by reports the Allies were amassing a big fleet to intercept the 'Graf Spee' on leaving its safe harbour of Montevideo, its captain later sailed his ship out slowly.

Then in a surprise move, the mighty 186-metre (610-feet) warship was deliberately scuttled in shallow water offshore by a series of internal explosions. In doing so, the captain saved the lives of 1100 German seamen alone from a looming fatal firefight. Thousands of onlookers watched the spectacular drama unfold from coastal vantage points.

"That's partly why I'm ringing," Dave said. "Many years ago, my wife and I had to travel up to Forster for the weekend to meet her mum's new partner, later her husband.

"He was German and on later meeting him up there, I mentioned casually in conversation I'd noticed a 1956 war movie that was on the telly that arvo," Dave said.

"At that stage I knew nothing about him. I didn't know that he was in the German youth movement or the navy. That all came later. I said this English movie was called The Battle of the River Plate and he replied out of the blue, 'Really? I was there'.

"I couldn't believe what I was hearing. What a massive co-incidence. His name was Egon Robert Tatter, born in Hamburg, Germany, in 1921, and he died probably around 2006. I still have his passport.

"I believe he could have been on the 'Graf Spee', but he said instead he was on one of the two German supply ships - tankers - waiting far away. He said he and other crew were listening to the radio broadcast of what was happening as the battleship left port only for it to be suddenly, deliberately, sunk.

"Tatter said his ship then did a runner down the bottom of South America to escape likely capture by the Allies. They went up the other side of the country to hide somewhere there. They even changed the ship's flag and hid in a port for 12 to 18 months, settling in with the locals, getting used to a more peaceful way of life, rather than a world at war.

"But even here, they were found out by the Allies and Tatter said he and all the rest of the supply ship crew were interned in Canada as POWs. After WWII ended, he went back to Germany and then came out to Australia, was naturalised, and he worked on the Eildon Dam [in the Victorian Alps]."

Dave Ringland also said he had lots of fond memories of holidays once spent with his wife, and earlier with mates, on Fingal Island, also known as the Outer Light at Point Stephens.

His fondest memories were probably from the late 1970s (the coastal light was automated in 1973) and staying in the majestic three-house complex known as the lighthouse keepers' residences. All were in the shadow of the 21-metre tall snowy white light tower dating from 1862.

"These 'cottages' were spacious, built of big, thick sandstone blocks (in 1865) and were magnificent. Ours had big timber roof beams with cedar fitting throughout. It was an idyllic, scenic spot.

"Leased out back then, we stayed in the biggest cottage, at the northern end and spent the time there sunbaking, snorkelling, swimming fast across the Shark Hole, and sightseeing. It was an unforgettable place. Sadly, it's now blackened ruins. It's an absolute crying shame it all burned down [in September 1991]. Vandals were blamed," he said.

Fingal Island is guarded by a treacherous, tidal sand spit. Once solid and grassed, it was all washed away in a cyclone 122 years ago. Between five and 17 people are said to have drowned on this tombolo, called Narrowgut.

"We used to get driven across 'The Spit' at low tide with our gear in an old jalopy, a four-wheel-drive sand buggy, probably unregistered, from Fingal Bay," Dave said.

"And if you ran out of beer - as you do - there was a dinghy moored near the Spit to go back and get fresh supplies at Fingal.

"We were also sunbaking one time when an RAAF jet flew over. I'd earlier met a pilot who knew we were going up to the island and he said he'd drop by and say, 'Hi'. Well, he did! He swooped down only about 100 feet above and buzzed us. WHOOSH! Nearly lifting us off the sand he did!"

For decades, up to 30 head of cattle were driven across the broad sand bridge at low tide to graze. One time though, the isthmus was washed away for three years and the farmer involved couldn't get his cattle back!

"A Frank Jackson leased the island accommodation. I think he also had the supply boat. And one person living there was nicknamed 'Squizzy Taylor". He used to get around the island all the time on a quad bike - in the nude! He also used to go down to the 'Gridhole' [beach] wearing nothing but a towel around his neck.

"He also had this most amazing dog that could smell or hear visitors from miles away, even when a blustery nor' easter was blowing.

"I also later got to know Arthur Murdoch, the bloke who'd lived in an island shack for years during the 1930s Depression and wrote a book about it. He ended up living close to my uncle's place near the Blackbutt Hotel at New Lambton."

But one of Dave's favourite memories of Bay days was as a teacher, bringing a team of schoolboy footballers up for a match at the invitation of a keen Port Stephens teacher.

"We came up, played, won the match and afterwards our host came into our dressing room to congratulate us with a heavy esky," Dave said.

"Uh oh. That's full of beer. Here's trouble, I thought. There are kids here from Year 10. And our host teacher said, 'This is my way of saying thanks for coming. These are all for you. I've been out fishing and have a feed for each of you, all scaled and gutted, but with their heads still on.'.

"Then he produced from his esky, not beer, but plate-sized snapper for everyone. He caught me out. I was just bowled over with his fish gift," said a very relieved Dave Ringland.

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