On April 15, the Moruya couple really had something to celebrate – 70 years of love and marriage.

Their story begins in 1943, in a café in Henty.

Percy Gartner took one look at Betty Piltz, who was about 15 or 16, and four letters lit up.

“Love,” he said. “I fell instantly in love.”

Miss Piltz’s thoughts on Percy were slightly more tempered.

“I didn’t think anything,” she said.

“I was thinking about what my mother would say.”

Percy then pursued his beloved with serious courting, with great results.

“Percy took me to Wagga Wagga on the train to buy an engagement ring,” Betty said.

In reference to Percy’s irrepressible character and cheeky streak, she said he was a “blond-haired blue-eyed devil”.

Two weeks before Betty’s 18th birthday, dressed in a beautiful cream satin gown, she met Percy, 23, at the altar of St John’s Presbyterian Church in Henty. The date was April 15, 1944.

Her gown and veil were purchased with wartime clothing coupons (Betty still has a collection of food and clothing coupons) and her grandmother embroidered the veil, which was worn by Betty’s daughter Wendy at her wedding.

After a two-week honeymoon in Victoria, Betty went home to her mother and Percy to a Royal Australian Air Force base in Mt Gambier.

Both were born in Henty and had “very happy years” of childhood, despite the Depression.

When Percy’s dad died, the 12-year-old became the breadwinner for his mother and three sisters.

After working on a farm in Pleasant Hills for two years, his mother told him “you’ve got to learn a trade – go and see the baker”.

“He gave me a job and I learned the trade,” Percy said.

Betty’s father was among the many Australian casualties of the heavy fighting in Crete, in about 1941.

Instead of going to work, Betty stayed at home to help her mother, who also had four sons.

Later, she worked as a nanny.

After Percy’s two attempts to enlist in the Air Force failed, on the grounds that a baker provided “an essential service”, he decided to tell a “fib”.

The “unemployed” baker was accepted, but as a cook.

“I wanted to learn a trade and after I walked out they said I could enlist as a mechanic.”

Based at Mt Gambier, he repaired training aircraft, and there was an incentive to do a thorough job.

“Every time you fixed a plane, you had to go on the first flight up with the pilot,” he said.

In peacetime, Betty and Percy moved to Pleasant Hills, where he took over the bakery, which had a wood-fired oven.

“I never went to bed on a Friday night for 10 years,” he said.

For Betty, life was hard work, too.

Without electricity, washing day was a ritual. She lit the copper boiler, carted water to fill it and boiled the washing.

She ironed with an iron heated on the fuel stove, though her first try with a petrol iron nearly ended in disaster.

The iron exploded and Betty’s clothing caught alight.

As a flaming Betty ran down the hallway, Percy caught her at the back door.

“Luckily, I was working in the bakery at the time (the house and bakery were under the same roof),” he said.

He wrapped her in a blanket and rolled her in the dirt backyard.

To fuel the bakery oven and the household, Percy chopped about five tonnes of wood a week.

“It was the best bread ever made,” Percy said.

Twice a week – “that’s how good the bread was” – Percy set out on a 100-mile (160km) farm delivery round.

It wasn’t just for the bread they clamoured, it was also for his cinnamon rolls.

“My own secret recipe; people travelled to Henty to buy them.”

When asked for the recipe, Percy said it would be impossible to make them now because the quality of cinnamon is “not what it used to be”.

Betty served in the shop, cared for daughters Wendy and Jenny, who sadly passed away at a young age, tended to about 100 chooks, a large vegetable garden and orchard, and preserved the produce.

They “relaxed” by running balls and dances to raise money for the School of Arts, the church and the P&C.

“That was enough with all the other work we had to do,” Betty said.

After 10 years in Pleasant Hills they lived another 10 near Cootamundra, where son Philip was born and “life was different”.

In 1970, they settled in Moruya and retired, but not for long.

For the next 17 years, “Percy the Postie” delivered the Queen’s mail, first on a bicycle and then, after an inspector complained about his overtime, on a motorbike on the entire Moruya run.

With an injured back, Percy retired in 1987.

“Percy had always played sport,” Betty said.

“He told me he wanted to play bowls and that he wouldn’t unless I did, too,” she said.

“How I ever became a bowler, I don’t know.”

Betty wasn’t just a good bowler, she was outstanding.

At Moruya Women’s Bowling Club, she won championships in singles and doubles, and, with Percy, in mixed doubles.

“I became the Patron, which is an honour,” she said.

Over at Moruya Men’s, Percy was also a champion but “Betty has more badges than me”, he said.

They now live a quieter life, and are blessed with four adoring grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

“We are very fortunate that we were able to see Jason and Ben and David and Kylie grow up,” Betty said.

“We are very proud of them.”

On Sunday, daughter Wendy and son-in-law Norm Eyles hosted a small celebratory lunch for Percy and Betty and their close-knit family.

The secret to staying together for 70 years is simple.

“We still have each other,” Betty said. “He’s been a very good husband, which is everything.” 

“It’s love,” Percy said.

“I wouldn’t want to be with any other person. I’m looking forward to another 20 years.”