by Alan Tucker
Wouldn’t it be funny if Superman really existed and could help win battles? He could be used to drop bombs because he can fly high and is even strong enough to carry the world’s biggest bomb. But really, he wouldn’t need to drop bombs. He could use his X-ray vision—SIZZLE—to melt the enemy’s headquarters and big weapons. That’d be better. Mum would approve of that because no innocent people would be killed and lots of lives and people’s houses would be saved.
Sunday, 6 September
The drawing I did last night looks really good. It shows Superman bending the barrel of a North Korean tank just as it’s fired. The shell hits a cliff—SMASH—which causes a landslide and buries all the enemy tanks driving behind. I copied the comic drawing exactly. Superman’s right in the middle. The police can hardly accuse me of drawing Top Secret weapons this time, unless Superman really does exist and has been kept Top Secret. Hollywood made a film about him last year. If it ever comes to Australia I’m going to see it.
Mum liked the film she saw last night. She said it was a beautiful love story. I wonder what Dad thought of it. I can’t believe he even went. He hates films like that.
It’s the last day of the holidays. Dave and I haven’t got any real plans. We’re just going to muck around on the bikes. I now use his dad’s. Dave fixed it up for me. It’s a 28 inch. It was a bit big for me when we first moved here, but now that I’ve grown taller I can sit on the seat quite easily.
8.00 pm
Rusty caught his first rabbit this afternoon. It didn’t duck down the burrow quickly enough. Rusty thought he was a big deal even though it was only a baby. He carried it around in his mouth and wouldn’t let us take it from him. He killed it instantly. Terriers do that. They chomp and shake anything they catch. He’s good at killing rats and mice. He doesn’t eat them though. He usually leaves them on the back doormat. Mum hates that. Dad does too if he treads on one—SQUELCH—in the dark as he heads off to work.
I’ve packed my bag for school tomorrow. One more term and I’ll be in fourth year. Mum said after I’ve passed my Intermediate exams next year I can leave school and get a job. I’ll be old enough to join the Army soon, but I wouldn’t get in because of my legs.
I wonder what sort of job I’ll get. I’d like to draw cartoons for a newspaper, but I don’t think I’d be able to think up the funny words that go with them. I can write ordinary things like a diary, but not clever things.
Mum wants me to work in a bank, but I hate maths. Dad wants me to work with cars and trucks. He says that motor vehicles are the future and it won’t be long before every family has a car. I don’t think he’s right about that. And anyway, I don’t like grease or mechanical things. Dave does. He wants to be an Army mechanic like his father. He’s really fit so he’ll pass the medical and get in.
I know a lot about hospitals. I could be a doctor, but I’m not brainy enough. I wouldn’t mind being a nurse, but boys can’t be nurses. The reason I’d like to do that job is so that I could be kind to sick kids. I wouldn’t boss them and make them cry.
Monday, 7 September
I survived the first day back at school. Everyone was friendlier than at the end of last term. Even Jonathon spoke to me. He’s still not supposed to, so he didn’t talk long. He told me he didn’t believe I was a spy. He’s not allowed to play with me in the schoolyard or visit me at home, but he said we could still be friends and wanted to know if I was going to cricket practice. His parents can’t stop us talking there.
The first cricket practice is after school Thursday. I want to go but I have to get Mum’s permission. That could be tricky.
Kenny came home with Dad. He stayed for dinner. When Mum asked him why he’s in Woomera he said he’s on leave. ‘My work’s finished. We handed Emu over to the scientists yesterday. It’s all theirs now to do with what they will.’
When I asked him what was at Emu he said there’s nothing but a big flat claypan. ‘The flattest part of the flattest country in the world. It’s so flat out there, Anthony, that even an ant hill looks like a New York skyscraper from a distance.’
He said the men working out there deserve their leave. They’ve been hard at it for seven months, working ten hours a day, seven days a week for most of that time. ‘Everyone was happy to hand it over to the scientists. And they’re happy, like I am, to go some place where you can have a proper shower. If you think the water supply here is limited, you should be out there.
‘I get used to blokes being pongy after a while, but it must be one hell of a shock for the boffins fresh off the plane from England. Fancy flying 12,000 miles and landing at Emu. You’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s flaming hot, the flies outnumber the people and everyone pongs to high heaven.’
Mum pointed out that they didn’t have to come to Australia. They could stay in England and test their atomic bombs there. Kenny hadn’t mentioned the atomic bombs. He’s an Army man and not allowed to talk about stuff like that. Mum knew that.
Dad interrupted. ‘We’re part of the British Empire, Beryl, you know that. And as a loyal member it’s our duty to help develop the atomic bomb to make the world a safer place. If we have to blow up a claypan or two to do that, then it’s our duty to do so.’
Mum and Dad glared at each other. Kenny changed the subject and I disappeared into my bedroom. I don’t know why Mum gets so upset. It’s only a bomb and no-one’s going to get hurt. I’d love to be there when it explodes. Kenny’s going back to watch it go off when his leave’s over. He’s so lucky.
Tuesday, 8 September
We’re in the news again today. Mr Menzies, the Prime Minister, mentioned Woomera in another speech. He said exactly what I thought. No lives will be lost in the atomic bomb tests. Maybe Mum will believe him and stop being so worried.
The boys at school are all very excited about the bomb tests. No-one knows exactly when they’ll take place. Some of them claim they do, but say they can’t tell us because it’s Top Secret. One boy said his father knows someone who knows someone who’s been told the date. I don’t believe him.
It can’t be far away, though, if the British scientists have taken over the site. Dave says they won’t want to hang around too long out in the desert without some action. They’ll want to get back to their big houses and servants in England.
Jonathon overheard and spoke up. ‘That’s most unfair, David. Mother and Father have made many personal sacrifices for the advancement of the Empire. They had to let our servants go so we could move to Australia. One of them had been with the family since before I was born and was most distressed.’
Dave was amazed. ‘You had servants?’
‘Only two’, he told us. ‘A secretary to type up the data from father’s experiments and a cook to help mother. We used to have a nanny too, until I left to board at school.’
Dave couldn’t believe anyone was so rich. Jonathon said it was quite common to have ‘help’ around the house. His father also had a chauffeur, but he was paid for by the military.
‘Mother learned to drive an automobile because her family didn’t have a chauffeur.’
Dave thinks women shouldn’t be allowed to drive. It was all right during the war, but now they should stay home and look after the house and kids. Dad agrees. He didn’t want Mum to keep working after they got married. ‘I saw how hard my old lady worked on the station, Beryl, especially in the drought years. I don’t want my wife working her fingers to the bone. While I’m in the Army earning a decent quid we should be able to get by quite comfortably on one wage.’
I wonder if Mum was a good nurse. She can be a bit bossy. Maybe all nurses are like that.
Wednesday, 9 September
Mum was in a good mood after school when I brought home a new parcel of library books. I bit the bullet and asked if I could go to cricket practice.
‘Mr Noblett’s heard I know how to score. He wants me to attend practice on Thursday so I can show him one of my old test cricket scorebooks.’
She thought about it f
or a while before she agreed. I was so happy.
‘But you’re not to play, Anthony. Is that clear?’
I’m actually quite nervous about being the scorer. When I keep score while listening to the wireless commentary it doesn’t matter if I make a few mistakes. I can’t afford to do that in a real game.
Thursday, 10 September
I arrived early at cricket practice and showed Mr Noblett my best scorebook. He had a look at it and told me I’ve definitely got the job. He said that’s one less thing he has to worry about on Saturdays. Our first game is in three weeks’ time.
Once everyone was there he asked each player to say what part they wanted to play in the team. Dave told him he was a fast bowler. Mr Noblett said he thought Dave was rather small for a fast bowler, so Dave showed him his style. He took a long run-up, ran in really fast and bowled. The ball was quite fast, but very wide. His second bowl was even wider and his third ball bounced twice before it got to the stumps.
Mr Noblett wrote something in his memo book then asked the next boy to show his best skill. Robert is a wicketkeeper. He’s good. He hardly let any byes go past him for the whole practice, and he wasn’t even wearing pads. I’d never do that. If I ever have batting practice I’ll wear all the protection I can: gloves, pads and a box. If I was Superman I wouldn’t need any of that protection. I wouldn’t even need a bat. I could use my super-breath to blow the ball to any part of the field. I’ve seen Superman blow out huge forest fires.
Jonathon said he was an all-rounder, which means he can bat and bowl. Mr Noblett was impressed and threw him the ball. He’s not fast, but he’s very accurate. When he batted he played with a straight bat and didn’t go for any big shots. Mr Noblett told him he had an excellent defensive technique and wouldn’t easily lose his wicket.
Now that I’ve been to my first practice I really want to have a go at bowling. I don’t think I’m any worse than some of the other bowlers. If I can practise a little bit at home then I might ask Mr Noblett if I can have a bowl at practice. That’d be fun.
I’m not sure where I can practise, though. Mum’s nearly always home, so I can’t do it in the backyard. When I was sick I used to lie in bed and practise various grips for spinning the ball using an apple or orange. I found pictures in cricket books and copied where to put my fingers. The trouble was, when I was younger my fingers weren’t long enough to grip the ball properly, and it’s impossible to bowl spinners if you can’t get a good grip.
I wonder if my fingers have grown longer. The rest of me definitely has.
Saturday, 12 September
I told Robert I can bowl spinners a bit but needed to practise. He wanted to practise wicketkeeping to a spin bowler so we got Dave and walked to the oval. I bowled all right. The ball didn’t spin much, but it did land on the pitch and go close to the stumps. Dave batted and Rusty was the fielder. His slobber made the ball slippery after a while and hard to grip. I did my best. When we finished Robert told me I was good enough to bowl at practice. I felt proud.
After lunch we rode to The Grave. Rusty started digging around the headstone. He was probably after a lizard, but we made out he was trying to dig up the ghost of John Henry Davies.
‘What do you think Johnny-boy looked like?’ Dave asked. ‘I think he was a red-headed bloke with a bushy beard and a tattoo on his arm.’
Robert asked how he died.
‘He drowned.’
‘Drowned? Out here in the desert?’
‘Sure. He hung onto his horse’s tail as they swam across a creek in a flash flood, but he got tangled up in a tree branch that was swept downstream, and that’s the last anyone saw of John Henry.’
Dave was really funny. He made up an answer to every question Robert and I asked him. I didn’t know Dave could be that imaginative. When Robert pointed out that John Henry wasn’t likely to have drowned out here in the desert, Dave said he was sure he did, he could feel it in his bones. There had to be a dry creek bed somewhere nearby.
What’s weird is, even though Dave made the story up, we did find a dry creek bed nearby. We couldn’t ride our bikes along it because it was too sandy, so we walked. In one section it wound through a rocky ridge and in that gap we found Aboriginal paintings on the rocks. Some shapes we couldn’t work out but there was definitely a goanna and an emu.
I wondered how they knew about those animals. I haven’t seen them around here. Robert reminded me that the site where the atomic bomb is going to be tested is called Emu, so there must be emus fairly close by.
Dave joked that soon the only emus left there will be barbecued ones. He also told us that you mustn’t stand still if goannas are nearby, because if they’re spooked, they’ll think you’re a tree and run up onto your head for safety. That’s a typical Dave story. I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not.
Robert suggested we look around on the ground. He said if there are paintings then Aborigines must have camped nearby. We wandered around looking down. It’s funny, when you look down you see all sorts of tracks, especially in a sandy creek bed. Robert found something and called out. He asked if we thought it was a spear tip. We weren’t sure. It looked like one, but maybe that was just the natural shape of the stone.
We looked around close to where he found that stone and found other pointy ones. Dave said they’re definitely spear tips. I think they are too. I brought one home to show Kenny next time he visits. He’ll know, because he’s met Aboriginal people out in the desert.
Monday, 14 September
Yesterday started peacefully enough. Kenny called in. He’s been down to Salisbury and back since last weekend. Salisbury’s near Adelaide and it’s where most of the boffins and Big Brass work. Dad regularly drives to Salisbury to bring supplies and equipment back to Woomera. A lot of stuff here comes from England. The big things come by ship to Port Adelaide, but small bits and pieces are flown out. It’s amazing how little time it takes to fly from England to Adelaide—only one week. Superman, of course, could do it much faster. ZIP!
I showed Kenny my stone spear tips and he agreed that’s what they are. The marks on the sides were made by chipping away the edges to make them sharp. He said to chip off the edges the Aborigines must have used a sharp implement. But where did they get the very first sharp stone to chip away and make all of the rest? If he knows, he didn’t tell me.
After lunch Kenny got ready to drive back to Emu. Mum asked him if that meant the tests were ready to start. He smiled and said he couldn’t say.
As soon as Kenny’s Land Rover drove off Dad cut crook at Mum. He criticised her for embarrassing Kenny. ‘You know he’s sworn to secrecy, Beryl. Can’t you let up on this bomb stuff when we’ve got visitors?’
‘No, I can’t let up when the British Government is about to test an atomic bomb in our backyard. A bomb that’s capable of ripping the heart out of any city in the world. Don’t fool yourself, Frank. They’re testing it on sand and mulga this time but if they use it in a future war it will be people’s flesh that’s melted, not desert sands. The British Government needs to talk to the Russian Government, not threaten them with weapons of mass destruction. If we target them, they’ll do the same to us. Do you really want Australia to be a nuclear target?’
The argument went on and on. They both brought up all the same points they made the other night. I couldn’t stand it. I went to my room but I could still hear everything. It was terrible. When they started slamming doors I packed my diary, a blanket and a torch and ran away.
I don’t know what time it is. It’s been light for a while but the sun hasn’t come up yet. I didn’t sleep much. I was cold and I kept thinking about the argument. Mum used to be so quiet, and still is most of the time, but since we shifted here she’s changed.
I’ve never heard them argue like that. Mum wouldn’t stop. She’s really against the bomb. I don’t know why. It hasn’t even been tested yet. All the information she’s got only comes out of books and newspapers so she doesn’t know for sure that the
bomb will be bad. What harm can a few tests do?
Later
I’m starving and I’m thirsty. I didn’t have time to pack any food or drink before I ran away. Rusty’s with me. He was so warm to cuddle up to last night. I wish he was bigger so he could keep even more of me warm.
I slept in the creek bed last night, where the sand was soft. Now I’m camped up near the rock paintings in the gully. There’s shade here. I’m not sure what to do. I guess I’ll have to go home but I’m scared to. I don’t want Mum yelling at me for running away.
Rusty found some water. He dug a hole in the sand at the base of the cliff. It was a big hole. I didn’t know why he was digging until he came back all wet. He was really pleased with himself. I slid down into the hole and tasted the water. It was gritty. Now I’ve got sand stuck in my mouth and I’m still thirsty. I’m glad it’s not summer.
I guess I’ll have to go home tomorrow. I’m getting really hungry. In some ways, though, I like it here. It’s peaceful.
Sunset
A few minutes ago I heard a noise and guess what I saw? A goanna. True. They still live here, just like the Aborigines drew on the rock. It went down into Rusty’s hole and had a drink. It must have an amazing sense of smell to know the water was there. I guess Rusty has too. He must have known the water was underground.
The goanna was lucky Rusty had wandered off, or he would have attacked it. Rusty’s a good fighter, but I’m not sure who would have won. The goanna was pretty big.
Rusty’s digging gave me an idea. I’ve dug a trench and I’m going to snuggle down into it tonight and scoop sand over me. That should keep me warmer than last night.
