by Peter Watt
Michael left the office wondering why he had made such an unexpected decision. Maybe meeting Mila had changed his outlook on life. In her company he found a strange and gentle peace, despite the turbulence of their first few days together. Maybe it was time to come home and seek out a new life.
TWENTY-SIX
The heat was starting to go out of the air in the early autumn of 1968 in Australia’s political capital, Canberra. But not in the chamber of the lower house, where the honourable David Macintosh could hardly believe his ears as Angus Markham addressed both sides of the house. Angus Markham had virtually inherited the Sydney seat when his father resigned from politics. It was a safe seat for Markham’s party and he had not had to work hard to persuade the electorate to vote for him.
‘I would like to ask the member from our rural north if it is true that he is the father of an illegitimate child, who is now a grown man our honourable member has refused to acknowledge.’
A hush fell over the chamber and David sat red-faced, wondering how he could reply to the accusation. How in hell had Angus Markham discovered Michael?
David rose, standing silent for a moment. All eyes from both sides of the house were on him, including those of the leader of his party, the Prime Minister.
‘That is a personal matter and I do not think it is of concern to the running of this great nation of ours. I do not deny I fathered a son during the war, but the matter is only of concern to the boy’s mother and me.’
David resumed his seat, still stunned by the revelation deliberately aimed to attack his character.
‘Have you ever been man enough to contact your son?’ Markham continued, and David was relieved to hear the speaker of the house intercede. Markham persisted, pointing out that all members should be above reproach, and the rumblings of ‘Hear, hear’ rose from the members of the opposition.
David could feel his anger rising. Here was a man who had deserted his men in the heat of battle when they needed him most. Now he was using his parliamentary privilege to besmirch David’s character and no doubt the accusation would be headlines in tomorrow’s papers. Gail knew about Michael, of course, but in his conservative rural electorate the news would no doubt cast him in a bad light, as Markham intended.
The speaker banged his gavel, insisting that Markham desist from any further slur against David’s character. Markham sat down with a smirk on his face and was patted on the back by fellow members of his party sitting beside him. David was aware that many eyes were still on him and guessed that he would be receiving a call from his party leader after the house closed for the day.
Sure enough, when the house rose, he felt a tap on his shoulder and made his way to the Prime Minister’s office. It felt like being back in school again and being summoned by the headmaster.
David knocked and went in. The Prime Minister was sitting behind his desk, and the deputy stood by the window. David closed the door behind him.
‘Why didn’t you tell us about your illegitimate son?’ the deputy asked.
‘Because it is of no concern to you. It has no bearing on how I represent my electorate,’ David replied.
‘Every bloody thing about your personal life is of concern to us,’ the Prime Minister said. ‘You have been a solid member of the party – despite your personal views on our involvement in Vietnam – and this matter will no doubt be headline news in the morning.’
‘My son is due to return to Vietnam, and despite what Markham said in there I have followed his whole life from the sidelines. He is my flesh and blood, but even if I had no son I would still have grave concerns about backing the Yanks in a war we can’t win. As you know I was on a fact-finding tour to South Vietnam last year, and my military experience tells me that our American cousins are trying to fight a counterinsurgency with conventional tactics. It won’t work. Since the battle of Long Tan we have stamped our mark indelibly on Phuoc Tuy Province, and I am satisfied our boys are doing an excellent job. But it is only one of many provinces in the country. From my discussions with Westmoreland’s staff, I get the impression they are not interested in our experience of winning a counterinsurgency war against the Communist Chinese in Malaya.’
‘We are getting off the subject,’ said the Prime Minister, rubbing his face in frustration. ‘You know news of your son will get back to your electorate.’
‘I know that,’ David said. ‘It will be big news – until something else comes along and then it will be forgotten.’
‘Let us hope so,’ the deputy said with a sigh. ‘I think you should return to your electorate for a while and avoid the Canberra press.’
David knew that he was now persona non grata with his party, and he left the Prime Minister’s office under a dark cloud.
He walked to the car park and heard a voice behind him yell, ‘Hey, Macintosh, have you ever spoken to your bastard son?’
David swung around to see Markham in the company of two of his fellow party members. The sun was setting over the nation’s capital, and years of rage welled up in David at the man he should have reported for cowardice. He could hear Markham sniggering to his two companions.David strode with a limp across the car park towards him. The smirk on Markham’s face evaporated when David drew close and Markham could see the deadly anger in his eyes.
Markham took a couple of steps back. ‘I wouldn’t do anything rash,’ he said uncertainly. ‘I have two witnesses if you attempt to assault me.’
‘That bastard – as you refer to him – is currently serving in the Australian Army and is about to return to Vietnam for a second tour of duty. It takes extreme courage to volunteer for that, courage you failed to demonstrate back in New Guinea when you ran away and left your platoon leaderless. I should have had you court-martialled then, and I have regretted not doing so ever since.’
David turned on his heel to walk away and felt the crashing sting of an object to the back of his head. He swivelled to see the briefcase drop to the ground. Without hesitating, David swung a right hook to Markham’s face.
Markham staggered back, squealing his protest and holding his hand up to a bleeding nose. ‘You saw that!’ he screamed in a high-pitched voice to his companions. ‘Macintosh struck me without any provocation. Call the police.’
David stepped back with a grim smile. ‘You were lucky, Markham. I am a bit out of condition these days, because my punch should have floored you.’
Markham’s companions stood transfixed as David walked away to his car. He was angry with himself. He had always kept himself fit, exercising on a daily basis, but in the last couple of years he had eased off his tough physical training regime. He obviously needed to get back to it.
The incident in the carpark was hardly worth a second thought to David, until the next day when the police knocked on the door of his Canberra flat. They informed him that he would be questioned on a matter of assault occasioning actual bodily harm to one Angus Markham, member of parliament.
David went with the two plainclothes officers to a nearby police station and answered all their questions. He did not leave anything out, and was left alone in the interview room while the investigating officers went away to discuss the evidence they had gathered. Eventually the two officers returned with grim expressions.
‘Mr Macintosh, I am afraid you will be summonsed to attend court. Two independent witnesses have corroborated Mr Markham’s account of what happened and we are bound to carry out the law.’
David sighed. He knew the two fellow party members had lied and said the assault was unprovoked. He was as good as sunk. David was allowed to leave, and the next day awoke to see the headlines: COWARDLY ATTACK ON WAR HERO POLITICIAN IN THE PARLIAMENT CARPARK.
‘Bloody hell!’ David swore to himself. They were even calling Markham a war hero! The article went on to say that Mr Macintosh had been enraged by Markham’s revelation that he had fathered a child out of wedlock and he had a
ttacked Mr Markham without provocation. David groaned at the exaggerated report intended to titillate readers rather than report the facts. The telephone began to ring off the hook, and David decided to take leave to be with Gail. He drove away from his flat to the popping of many newspaper cameras and the staring eye of a television camera capturing the flight of the political thug for the evening news across Australia.
*
Sean Duffy read the papers and watched on the evening news as David pushed his way through the mob of journalists outside his Canberra flat. Sean was furious and launched himself from the big leather armchair with its magnificent view through the great glass doors to the mansion’s balcony overlooking Sydney Harbour.
‘Bastards!’ he swore at the top of his voice. It was time to return to his old office and prepare a brief for the best barrister he knew. If David was to attend court to defend himself, he would need Sean in his corner.
‘Did you call out to me?’ Rose asked, carrying an expensive silver tray with a pot of tea and cups on it into the sunroom. Marriage had been good for both of them and their love grew deeper with every waking day.
‘No, I was just venting my anger against those vultures in the press,’ Sean said, accepting the cup Rose passed to him and sitting back down.
‘It’s about David, isn’t it?’ Rose said, settling onto a couch. ‘It’s been all over the papers and TV, and I know how much he means to you.’
‘David is as close as I will ever have to a son, and a father does not desert his son.’
‘So it appears I will be a widow again while you take on David’s case,’ Rose smiled.
Sean put down his cup and stood, gripping his walking cane. He walked to his wife and kissed her gently on the cheek. ‘Thank you for being so understanding,’ he said.
‘You have always been a man of action,’ Rose said. ‘I have been concerned that retirement might kill you with boredom. If anyone is capable of getting David off, it will be you.’
Although Sean did not have the facts before him, he wondered whether he still had the skills of the reputed best criminal solicitor in Sydney, and whether he would manage without his old friend, Harry Griffiths, beside him. No matter his concerns, he knew that this would be the most important case he had ever handled in his many years of law practice.
*
The ocean was still warm, and David Macintosh was able to swim for a good kilometre before returning to the beach below his old house. The macadamias still grew in their orderly lines but, now unattended, most of the nuts just fell on the ground. He and Gail had purchased a nice house in town within walking distance of his office in the main street. Sometimes, though, David had a need to be alone, and Gail understood. He would return to the old house and sit on the edge of the cliff that overlooked the tiny beach below.
It was funny, David thought as he stood amongst the big waves rolling in, how things had changed since he had first starting coming to this beach. In the distance he could see three young men with long blond hair riding surfboards, catching the late-afternoon waves.
Salty water ran off his body as he waded through the hissing surf at the edge of the beach. He walked towards his towel and noticed a man sitting beside it. The sun was in David’s eyes, so it was only when he was a few feet away that he recognised Michael Macintosh – his son.
‘I see that the press is giving you a hard time over me,’ Michael said.
David shrugged and sank to his knees on the sand. ‘How did you know I was here?’
‘Your wife told me,’ Michael said. ‘I have a little leave left, so I thought it was time to meet with you. My dad told me on his deathbed that you agreed your real identity would remain a secret while he was still alive. He also told me that it was you who was able to track me down in Africa and organise my discharge so I could travel back to Australia to be with him. So, that time back at Glen View for Christmas I thought I was shaking the hand of my mother’s cousin – not my father.’
David gave his son an appraising look. Michael looked very much like he had at that age. There could be no mistaking that they were father and son.
‘I suppose you’ve come here to tell me what a real bastard I was for not recognising you when you were born,’ David said, and noticed the flicker of hurt in his son’s face.
‘To be honest, I am not sure why I wanted to see you,’ Michael said. ‘Maybe out of curiosity, or maybe because I have read what the papers are saying about you and I figured you might need a bit of fire support.’
‘I am not going to apologise for not recognising you as my son when I was first told by your mother,’ David said. ‘It is kind of complicated when it comes to matters concerning your mother.’
‘Because I know my mother for what she is,’ Michael said, ‘I can understand how complicated it is. I was lucky to have such a great dad in Charles, that it doesn’t matter you were not around. I guess, at best, I see you more in the light of an uncle in my life. You know what is scary, though?’ Michael continued. ‘How similar our choices in life have been. You chose to fight as a mercenary in the Spanish Civil War and I chose the Congo. You returned to fight for Australia in the army during World War II, and now I am a soldier in the same army, serving in Vietnam. I can see I have taken after you in looks, and maybe even in some mannerisms. What’s that old saying – you can’t pick your parents, only your friends.’
‘Maybe you and I could be friends,’ David said, and Michael gazed at him for a long moment before answering.
‘I think we could be friends,’ he agreed. ‘For the moment you are a stranger to me, but we seem to have a lot in common. Certainly our fists have got us both into trouble recently.’
‘Let’s head up to the shack then and continue this chat over a cold beer,’ David said.
Both men walked up a sandy track to the little house, where David retrieved the cold bottles of beer. They went to the edge of the cliff to watch night descend on the east coast of Australia.
They sat side by side drinking, and before long they found themselves laughing as they swapped stories of their military life in faraway places. David confessed that he was opposed to the war, partly because he knew Michael was in the thick of it and partly because he thought it was unwinnable. He was virtually alone in his opinion and his views were not for public knowledge.
That night David opened cans of bully beef and baked beans. They ate and continued drinking until the early hours of the morning, when they both fell asleep on camp stretchers in the shack, listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.
The following day Michael was due to catch the train back to Sydney and David drove him to the railway station. Both men stood on the platform awaiting the train’s arrival. The rural station was deserted and peaceful, with pot plants of ferns hanging along the platform awning. The sound of rainbow lorikeets squawking in the rainforest trees on the opposite side of the platform was the only noise in the calm air.
‘If you need a character witness at your court hearing, you can always call me,’ Michael said. ‘Just send a message to SAS Hill, Nui Dat, Phuoc Tuy Province, South Vietnam.’
‘I went to Nui Dat last year on a fact-finding tour,’ David said. ‘When I made discreet enquiries I was told that you were out in the bush on an op. After the Tet Offensive I believe our task force will be deployed between the retreating enemy from Saigon and the Ho Chi Minh trail. I have a bad feeling about that, so be bloody careful when you go back in.’
The sound of the train broke any further discussion on the war. Michael hefted his kitbag and David was reminded of the times he had stood waiting for a train to take him to war. Michael turned to face his father and was suddenly aware that he was in his embrace.
‘Take care, son,’ David said. ‘I am very proud of you. I always have been.’
Michael pulled away, seeing the shine of tears in his father’s eyes. This Michael h
ad not expected.
‘Just remember to contact me if you need that character reference,’ Michael said, attempting to put on a cheerful face as the train pulled into the station.
Without another word, Michael walked to the doorway of the carriage and boarded without looking back at the man who, a mere twenty-four hours earlier, had been a stranger to him. He did not want David to see the tears in his own eyes as there was no certainty they would ever see each other again.
The train pulled away and Michael could see the solitary figure of David Macintosh standing almost to attention on the empty platform.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The towering scale model of the multistorey building rose up between lesser buildings on the wooden board at the centre of Jessica Duffy’s boardroom. Around it milled potential investors and members of Jessica’s project team. Jessica stood by a great plate-glass window, gazing at the Sydney skyline. She could see the vacant block of land that had been cleared at great cost for the building’s construction.
Jessica held a glass of vintage champagne in one hand and reflected on how her father’s dream had progressed from captured diamonds in the Great War to a financial empire spanning many industries. With good financial guidance, Jessica had rolled over profits into even bigger ventures and her companies had gone public on the stock market. She was reputed to be one of the richest women in Australia, and already she was looking towards Asia for future investment opportunities.
The thought of Asia overwhelmed her. Bryce was currently in Vietnam and she was counting the days until his return. Her son had assured her that, as a gunner, he was not exactly in the frontlines of combat, as his role was to provide fire support to the foot-slogging grunts out in the scrub; but the recent Tet Offensive across South Vietnam had made Jessica afraid for his safety. She knew a lot about combat; she had been awarded decorations from both the Australian and American governments for her service in the Pacific War. She also knew that fire-support bases were a prime target of the enemy. After all, many of the big battles the Americans fought in this war were over the North Vietnamese Army destroying isolated fire-support bases.
