by Patrick Ford
The Sydney University Regiment has a long and proud history, numbering a Victoria Cross winner amongst its former members. An honour guard from the Regiment was there for him, and the Regiment’s Pipes and Drums provided the music.
The Chief of the Defence Force was there to present Jack with his Military Cross. There was a military attaché from the US Embassy, for the Americans had awarded him the Silver Star. Finally, an official from the South Vietnamese Government pinned the Vietnam Gallantry Cross to his breast. The Military Cross is a beautiful decoration. The purple and white ribbon, the silver cross, was the best a junior officer could do, short of the Victoria Cross, Australia’s highest award for gallantry.
After the ceremony, he met with his old company commander. Colonel McIntosh was effusive in his praise. “Will we see you back in Armidale?” he said.
“For a short time only, sir. I have to go home for a while and then on to the United States. I intend to marry soon. I will have to apply for leave for quite a long period.”
“Before you go, Captain, I have a proposition to put to you.”
Jack gave him a quizzical look.
“I suppose you will be leaving the Regiment since you are no longer one of our students. I know you will be busy at home and that you will not be able to devote the time to military matters as you have done in the past.”
Jack said, “Yes sir, I will have a family and property to run now. What did you have in mind?”
“There is a new unit being formed to handle the increase in enlistments due to the National Service Act. This unit is to cater for those who live and work a long way from our current regiments. The unit will be officially the Thirty-Seventh Battalion, Royal Australian Infantry Corps, and has adopted the nickname of The Bushmen’s Rifles. They will meet once a year only, for recruit and other training. They need an experienced officer to design and run their advanced courses, and to act as battalion intelligence officer. It will mean a promotion to Major. Can you spare three weeks a year?”
Jack said, “I’d like that sir, but I’ll have to consult my family. If they concur, then I will accept the appointment.” McIntosh gave him a wide smile. “Well, then, Captain, I will make the appropriate recommendations. Good luck to you.”
There was a reception to follow, where Jack met numerous important people. The Chief of the Defence Force was an Admiral. “I don’t know much about land operations, Captain. Tell me, how are things going up there? Are we doing any good or is the enemy winning?”
Jack hesitated, but then he decided to be frank. He did not have a regular army career to jeopardise. “With respect, sir, that is a question requiring several answers. Firstly, our troops are doing a very good job. Secondly, I believe the Americans are not performing very well. Their troops are sloppy in the field, and their large numbers of draftees do not want to be there. They do not grasp the fact that their poor performance is putting their own lives at further risk. Thirdly, I think the present government of South Vietnam is a lost cause. They are corrupt and their people know it. Desertion from the ARVN is rife.”
“Well,” said the Admiral, “that’s not what we are hearing from our American friends. Those longhaired demonstrators may have a point after all. Thank you for your frankness, Captain. Good luck in your career. I think you might go a long way.”
In Australia, as in America, the public mood, at first in favour of the war, was changing to opposition. The demonstrations had become more frequent and violent. In Sydney, members of his Regiment had been attacked physically, an unwise act as the attackers soon discovered to their discomfort. In Armidale, there was opposition, too. However, the large number of rural, conservative students balanced this out. They had even organised a demonstration supporting the war. As a soldier, Jack had no public opinion either way, but privately he had some doubts about the of the country’s leaders who had committed them to the war.
Jack enjoyed the reception, but was anxious to be on his way. He hadn’t been to Ballinrobe for some time, and he was looking forward to America more than anything else in his life.
Goondiwindi, Queensland, Australia—1967
In early December, Ballinrobe was looking spectacular. There had been good early summer rains, and everywhere it was clothed in soft waving grass. The cattle were shiny and sleek. The wheat was tall, approaching harvest. Jack reckoned it would be ripe before he came back. No worry, his men could handle the harvest. There were about three hundred cows now, and the sheep had vanished. Jack had not dismissed them entirely. He had fond memories from his boyhood of the smell of the shearing shed, of raw wool, jute bales, sheep dung, redolent with ammonia. Soon, he thought, they might play a part again.
He drove around the property in his old Land Rover as always. Sam had welcomed him home in a frenzy of barking and leaping. Ollie told him about her vigils at the thinking place. She had ceased these, Ollie said, about three weeks ago, about the time Jack had landed back at Seventh Cavalry Headquarters.
He was pleased to see his Land Rover still immaculately maintained. They had even given it a fresh coat of paint and new seat cushions. As he drove, he noted the straight, taut fences, neat water points. Thank God for Ollie and Mick, he thought. They had been a product of Paddy’s man management skills. Paddy would not have recognised the term, but he had had it in spades. There was no master-servant relationship on Ballinrobe. His men had been his ‘mates’. He had treated them fairly and with respect, and this had brought out the best in them.
Jack had done the same with the men he commanded. That’s why he’d been so successful as a platoon commander. That was the reason his platoon was so upset when he had to leave them. Eventually, he came to the thinking place. He sat for a long time on the grass where he and Susan had made love, where they had given the spirit of their unborn child to the land. He felt the spirit of the land settle on him like a blanket. His heart filled with joy. Soon all three of them would be here, spirits as one with the land.
Sam looked very pleased with herself, as she ran backwards and forwards around the fireplace. Somehow, she knew things were back to normal. A large flock of noisy miners settled in the trees around him, and, to him, their riotous chatter was a song of pure joy. Four lovebirds landed on the water trough. They regarded him gravely, and squawked their welcome.
Chapter 10
Forever and Ever
Logan International Airport, Boston, Massachusetts, USA—1967
Susan had waited so long for this moment. What will he look like? What had the war done to him? Now that he was really coming, she was filled with nervous energy. Will he still want her? Will he like Jacqui? Thousands of questions filled her head. Oh, God, she thought, how can I wait another moment?
She had borrowed Sarah’s car and driven the fifty miles to Boston early in the morning. She knew his flight wouldn’t land until the afternoon, but she couldn’t wait to go. She had bundled Jacqui up in her warm coat and gloves, with a fur cap over her pretty dark hair, and set off directly after breakfast.
They were lucky. The weather was clear; it hadn’t snowed for three days, and the ploughed roads were free of ice. She had booked a suite in a downtown hotel. She checked in and wandered for a while in the overheated department stores. The Christmas rush was on. There were lights, and reindeers and Santa Clauses everywhere. Carols filled the air. It was a magical time, and Jacqui was mesmerised by it all.
Oh, she thought, how wonderful this Christmas is going to be.
* * * *
Jack felt as if he was flying in the slowest aircraft ever made. Nothing was fast enough to get him to Susan. He had flown the Pacific via Hawaii to Los Angles, taken the red eye flight to Chicago, and then this morning he’d boarded a flight to Boston. He had left Brisbane so anxious to be here.
Two weeks ago, Denni had given birth to another little girl. They had named her Grace Helen. They would be home for Christmas. It would be the first proper Ballinrobe Christmas for three years! He had been less nervous facing the Viet Cong
. What will she look like? Will she still want him? What will Jacqui be like? Will she accept him? Thousands of questions filled his head. Oh God, he thought, how can I wait another moment?
At last, the plane began its long curving descent into Logan. He could see the city below, sun glittering on snow, looking like a Christmas card.
Oh, he thought, how wonderful this Christmas is going to be.
* * * *
She saw him as he came through the gate—lean, upright, dark-haired, wearing a Burberry trench coat. Her heart leapt, a lump rose in her throat, and then she was weeping for the three lost years.
He saw her almost immediately; then he was running to sweep her up in his arms, a huge bear hug. She clung to him. Their lips met. Oh, God, she thought, the taste of him, the scent of him. Tears coursed down her face. “Oh, Jack,” she cried, “My Jack, my love!”
He looked down at the beautiful child beside her. “Jacqui?” he said. She looked at him, frowning slightly, seeing his green eyes, his dark hair. “Daddy,” she said, “Daddy?”
Jack almost broke down as he looked into another pair of beautiful brown eyes. He sobbed, he gathered her up in his arms. She buried her head in his neck. “Daddy,” she said, “Daddy.” He lifted his daughter onto his shoulders and strode with his family to the airport doors.
* * * *
The Madison Hotel is in a central position near too many of Boston’s attractions. Both Jack and Susan wanted nothing more than to be alone, but a little presence prevented that. They went shopping, they walked in the sunshine, bundled against the cold, they drank hot chocolate, they ate; and, all the while, they loved each other with their eyes. Those wonderful eyes, he thought, how deep, how wide, how enchanting, how enticing. I fell in love with those eyes before I fell in love with the rest of her. Now I can drown in them for the rest of my life.
Late in the afternoon, they returned to their hotel. Jacqui was fighting her sleepiness. It had been a long day for a little girl. She didn’t fully understand the concept of a Daddy; but she knew her Mommy loved this new man, and that was good enough for her. I will tell Ollie about Daddy, she thought. Ollie will like him too. Ollie was her soft teddy bear, named for the present manager of Ballinrobe. Ollie the Teddy was one of the many little things that Susan had used to forge links to Jack and his family.
Jacqui hugged and kissed her Mommy and slipped into her bed with Ollie. “Don’t you want to kiss Daddy?” said Susan.
“Yes,” she said, “but not until tomorrow.” She was sure Ollie would tell her more about daddies tonight. In minutes, she was asleep.
Jack looked down on her sweet face. “Susan,” he said, “she’s so beautiful. How I have longed to see her, to hold her. She will be our precious baby now for as long as we live. Thank you for Jacqui. I cannot imagine how hard it has been for you, but we’re together now and always will be.”
She leant over and kissed Jacqui on the cheek. “Good night my little one,” she whispered. She straightened and turned to him. How handsome he is, she thought, how beautiful. He looked the same, but older now, the innocence gone, his face leaner, harder somehow. Oh, my darling, she thought, what sadness, what horrors, what troubles you have seen. She resolved to make the rest of his life a heaven on earth.
He stood watching his daughter sleep. How wonderful, he thought, a precious life, brought into being by our love. Could there be anything sweeter?
“Come my love, be mine.”
Susan took his hand and the old electricity surged through him. She is so beautiful, he thought, motherhood has made her even more so. She is a mature woman now, more desirable than ever. How she has suffered on my account, what pain, what longing, what dreadful things she has seen in her own home. He resolved to make the rest of her life a heaven on earth.
* * * *
It was like the first time over again. She led him into the bedroom. They stood in silence, drinking in the sight of each other, almost afraid to touch. It has been so long, she thought, all those long, lonely nights, will he still love me as he did before? Oh, God, he thought, it has been so long. How I have ached for her all those long, lonely nights, will she still love me as she did before?
They touched. Both gasped at the energy there, at the realisation that even the slightest touch could do that to them. She moved to him, placing her arms around his neck, beginning to kiss him with such pent-up passion. Their tongues sought out each other. Slowly they undressed each other, taking their time, gazing at each other’s bodies as the clothes fell away.
She touched his scars. The results of surgery in the field were never pretty. There was a long puckered line of stitches along his ribs, several smaller ones on his back. My darling, she thought, you could have been killed.
He moved behind her, his hands cupping her lovely breasts, nuzzling her neck, her ears, smelling her hair. She leant back into him, murmuring little sounds of pleasure. Soon they faced each other. “Jack,” she whispered, “It has been so long. Love me as never before, make me yours forever.”
They touched; they kissed, hungrily. Jack marveled at her beauty, at her taut, proud breasts, her smooth skin. He kissed her, drew his tongue down to her navel, to her soft triangle, found her sweet spot, that amazing pleasure centre. She moaned, forcing his head between her legs, writhing as he pleasured her, climaxing with cries of joy. “Oh… Oh…Oh God…Oh, Jack, love me, love me, love me, love me forever!” He looked into those beautiful eyes. I have drowned, he thought, and what a lovely way to die. And he had died, the old Jack. Now they were truly one, together forever.
He lay alongside her. She looked down into his eyes, those green eyes that enchanted her so. She kissed him with a new fervour, following his lean, hard body with her tongue, gently kissing his scar, finding his erection, taking him in her mouth, gently working her lips and tongue until he almost screamed with pleasure. It was too much for him. He slipped between those silken legs and entered that sweet warm place he had missed for so long. They were joined again, truly joined again. They kissed as they began to move together, faster, frantically now. Then Jack’s orgasm burst like a sky rocket, Susan’s a moment later, as they both cried out words of love for each other.
They loved long into the night, until, sated, they fell into a dreamless sleep. Around seven, the thump of a tiny body on their bed woke them. “Mommy, Mommy, I’m hungry… Mommy, where are your clothes…Mommy, why is Daddy in your bed?”
Susan held her and kissed her eyes. “Good morning, Poppins,” she said. “Daddy will always be in my bed now. He is going to take us home to Ballinrobe, to our thinking place. It will be warm there for it never snows. Won’t that be lovely?”
“Mommy, Ollie told me he likes Daddy. I think I would like to kiss him now.” She said this gravely, as if she were delivering the final verdict of great deliberations. Jack almost choked on his tears; then he held out his arms to her. She scuttled across the bed to him and he held her tight as she kissed his cheek. “Daddy,” she said, “Where are your clothes?”
They showered, dressed, and went down to the restaurant for breakfast. They smelt the coffee as they were shown to a table, and realised they were very hungry. “I’m famished,” said Jack.
“Daddy is famsed; I want to be too,” said Jacqui, with an excited smile, “I like Daddy.”
They ate huge piles of eggs and bacon and toast, drank half a gallon of coffee.
“What now?” said Jack.
Susan smiled. “Now we go to Worcester to see your mother-in-law!”
Chapter 11
Bearding the Lioness
Worcester, Massachusetts, USA—1967
They checked into a hotel. Susan was determined to put space between them and her old life. They went to return Sarah’s car and talk to her and Marci. They found a different house and a changed occupant. Marci met them at the door. She looked at Jack deferentially, almost humbly. Sarah was so happy to see him; he brought back to her those happy days in Armidale. She hugged him fiercely, wanting to know ev
erything she had missed in three years. “You must take your little boys back there,” said Jack. “They would love the climate.”
“Please come in and sit down,” said Marci. “I have something say to you all.”
“Off you go and play, Jacqui,” said Susan, “You have to tell all your dollies about your Daddy.” Jacqui ran from the room.
There was a nervous hiatus. Marci looked as if she didn’t know what to say. Finally, she looked up at them, tears streaking her face. “I’ve made some terrible mistakes,” she said. “I have treated you all very badly. I lied to you, Susan. I lied to Jack’s mother. I drove John from your life, Sarah, and from that of his boys. I do not know if you will ever forgive me. I was so frightened after Jimmy died. I was lonely; I wanted you to come home with me so much. I thought I would lose you, I thought I was protecting you; instead, I was denying you love. When you all began to hate me for destroying so much of what you loved, I couldn’t face it. Then one day I saw this.” She passed a copy of Time magazine across the table. In it was a small article entitled, Bien Long— A Survivor’s Story.
Jack looked at it. There was a photograph of the young helicopter pilot and his story of what had happened. He recounted the crash, how he had come to in the ruins of a church, how eleven men had defied more than 200 NVA troops, and had routed them. He told how this Australian officer, on secondment to the 7th Cavalry, had risked his life to save him from the wreck and who later carried his door gunner to safety under enemy fire, being thrice wounded in the process. He described how this officer had rallied the men and how his coolness under fire and the swift decisions he had made had resulted in such a remarkable victory. The pilot said he had been semi-conscious and badly wounded at the time. He quoted S/Sgt Bell and Corporal Riley as his sources for this story. The Australian officer was awarded the Silver Star.
“When I saw this I realised what risks you took to save my son, and how grateful I will be to you for the rest of my life, and then you walked through my door and I saw in your eyes how much you loved my daughter. I am so sorry for the trouble and heartache I’ve caused you. Go with your husband, Susan, with my blessings, and please forgive me.”
