After all, Junie Wallace was a smart girl.
Acknowledgements
I am a very fortunate woman in that I have a colourful, extensive family to draw inspiration from for story-telling, as evident in my first novel Gallipoli Street. In Worth Fighting For I was able to include the first-hand experience of my parents, as well as my twenty-one aunts and uncles, in order to paint a picture of Australia during WWII and I’d like to share a few facts behind the fiction with you here.
To me they are forever the ‘the Golden Generation’. I suppose this is in part due to the fact that they were youthful during the Golden Years of Hollywood, an era that produced many of my favourite movies, but it is also a fitting title because they all shone somehow. Each and every one – in unique and extraordinary ways.
The character of Junie is completely fictional however I wanted my heroine to have a strong name so I chose my auntie June’s uncommon, special one for the role. I must humbly thank her husband, my Uncle John, for giving his kind permission to do so.
The story of Michael Riley is inspired by my Uncle Jack Clancy, who passed away in December 2014 at the age of ninety-one. He too tried to join up under-age and was caught out, then sent to train with other young would-be soldiers at Liverpool under the instruction of his father, my ‘Da’ James Clancy. Jack’s face always lit up when he talked about that training period – a merry old time spent with his dad and his mates. As the months wore on the self-named ‘Elite’ grew as tight as brothers and by the time they left a strong bond had been formed, the kind of bond I imagine only soldiers leaving for war truly understand.
They formed part of the 2/31st Battalion and experienced harrowing months of combat against an aggressive enemy in some of the places mentioned in this novel, including the Markham Valley and Lae. By then Jack had become great mates with a soldier called Hughie Kilpatrick who was quite a bit older than the others, possibly even in his thirties. One day they were walking along a road that the Japanese had mined with booby traps and a bomb ignited, killing many of Jack’s mates. He and Hughie survived – although Jack was lucky to do so. He was the closest one to the bomb which apparently exploded upwards then out, sparing his life, although he was injured.
Jack Clancy, 1941
The Elite, circa 1942. (Jack Clancy far left.)
By the time Jack made it back the war was drawing to a close and his mate Hughie was involved in one of the last patrols the battalion would ever make. They were approaching some other Australians in the dead of night, and accidentally surprised a soldier on duty who had fallen asleep. The terrified man opened fire and Jack’s mate Hughie was killed.
The war ended not long after and I know Jack found that a painful irony to live with – to lose Hughie to friendly fire only weeks before the whole nightmare came to a close. All I know is Hughie Kilpatrick must have been an awesome person to have been our Jack’s best mate. You can’t help but wonder what life he could have led if it wasn’t cut so cruelly short in a foreign jungle.
Even though Jack had to live with the grief of losing Hughie and many of his brothers in the Elite you wouldn’t have known, for a kinder, more cheerful soul you’d never meet. For the record, Jack did get to marry his sweetheart, Beryl, and had many children and grandchildren to bless him through life.
Marlon’s character is also fictional, although the exploration of the Shangri-La Valley in New Guinea is part of my family history. Mum’s other adored brother, Des Clancy, was an adventurous soul who played a pivotal role in the region’s discovery and exploration. A pilot during the war, he went to New Guinea afterwards and became a patrol officer. There he soon gained the reputation as a brave explorer, often leading patrols into crocodile-ridden, uncharted territory, including Shangri-La, where real-life cannibals came face-to-face with their first Caucasian/westerner – my uncle. And yes, they did call him ‘ghost’.
I always think of the expression ‘larger than life’ when I remember Uncle Des. He was a wonderful gentleman and a celebrated humanitarian who became the much-revered District Commissioner of the Southern Highlands.
A former kiap who worked under Des, Peter Barber of Melbourne, wrote these words for his eulogy: ‘The indigenous people of the Southern Highlands respected him, indeed loved him. (Des) ensured that their new world was harmonious, progressive and the least traumatic he could programme. He built significant relationships with the Southern Highland leaders; he was a bridge across the cultures.’
I grew up hearing his fascinating tales and New Guinea was a place much discussed in my family. I hope I have managed to capture some of Uncle Des’s compassion for native peoples in Marlon and have given readers a glimpse into the wondrous Shangri-La Valley, one of the last, lost pieces of paradise on earth.
Des Clancy, Papua New Guinea, early 1950’s
Dorn Riley is inspired by my gentle mother who in her small role herein reminds us that education is a wonderful privilege and not to be taken lightly if you have the opportunity to gain it. She had to leave school at the age of fourteen and always ached to learn once more, and so she did in her fifties, earning her degree at Sydney University beneath those wonderful Gothic spires. There is much of my mother Dorn’s compassion and understanding in this character and I thank her for being such a beautiful influence in my life.
Beryl is so-named for yet another Clancy sister – my fabulous, fun Aunty Beryl Colgan. I also named Dr John Colgan after the real-life Beryl’s husband who wasn’t a doctor at all (but was smart enough to be one if he’d cared to). Uncle John was very dear to me and I’m glad I’ve been able to include his full name in the novel. Beryl and John were part of the gang that holidayed down in the ‘Fibro Majestic’ at Burning Palms, a real-life shack that sat at the bottom of a rugged, thickly vegetated hill. Many of the Clancy sisters and their friends frequented the shack and fun dress-up parties and fishing were part of the agenda. I always loved hearing about Burning Palms and hope I captured some of its magic here.
Kevin Best (my father) and Beryl Colgan (my aunt) dressing up at one of many parties with the Burning Palms crowd
My father’s brother Jim and his darling sisters have also been an inspiration, especially when it came to fashion with the girls. It wasn’t hard to paint images of the Trocadero with these fabulous women in mind.
I have managed to include all twenty-one of my aunts’ and uncles’ first names in the novel as a kind of thank you/tribute to them for all they gave me in life; all the memories, advice, love and oh-so-much laughter. You are a precious generation to all of us and I never want to let any of you go, but I guess I’m not really. I’m holding you right here, in little black sentences, for as long as people read my work.
I would also like to make mention of a final name inclusion, not part of this generation; not even a relative, but a young man who was very special to many, many people: Jake Loadsman.
Jake was the adored nephew of my close friend Zoe, and, as such, was like a nephew to me too. Like the fictional Jake in the novel he was witty, funny, loving and an incredibly loyal person. And he loved his country. In fact, he had just been accepted into the army when he passed away tragically one week after his twenty-first birthday. I was writing about loss in the novel at the time and some of that grief is reflected here.
I thank his mother Sarah for allowing me to include her son’s precious name for my very Australian character. A truly ‘good bloke’ and mate; a kind and generous young man.
And finally just a few more thank yous before I go:
To my friends and family who always so patiently support me and read my endless drafts I thank you so very much, especially Mum, Gen, Linda, Benison, Thuy and Theresa. And to my neighbours with whom I spent one particular, most hilarious night on ‘research’. You have forever enriched my knowledge of colourful Australian colloquialisms, even beyond my father’s wealth of sayings. Well played Chris Naysmith, in particular. My notebook remains full.
To my wonderful editor Jo Mackay and the team at H
arlequin, I can’t thank you enough for your wonderful company and hard work. You always put in above and beyond the call of duty and your expertise continues to inform my writing. Thank you for believing in me.
To my husband Anthony who makes this journey with me with much humour and good grace and my sons who have complete belief in their mum – bless their beautiful hearts. And to my adorable dog Saxon, the inspiration behind ‘Digger’. Humanity can learn a great deal about love from our precious canine friends.
To the people of Australia during World war II who fought so hard to protect our way of life under terrifying circumstances and the Americans and Allies who fought alongside: we have everything to thank you for. I only hope we can strive to do your sacrifice justice and remain compassionate – above all things. Always.
And finally to my beautiful dad Kevin Best, always with me. I’m following that star for you, as promised. Rest in golden peace.
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GALLIPOLI
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First Published 2016
ISBN 978 148921055 5
WORTH FIGHTING FOR
© 2016 by Mary-Anne O’Connor
Australian Copyright 2016
New Zealand Copyright 2016
Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Worth Fighting For Page 37
