by Alan Tucker
The slit trenches we dug for protection are, of course, brimming with rainwater. If we are attacked we have to choose between being drowned or blown to bits. A cookhouse has been built and so, for the first time, meals are hot and rations plentiful. We have fresh vegetables, butter and eggs. As a result, everyone’s health has improved.
We’ve been instructed recently on how to clean, assemble and fire a Thompson machine-gun (Stanley might be able to describe one for you—if you’re interested), grenade throwing and how to use gas masks. We expect air raids every day. The Japs can attack at will because we only have four Wirraways to fend them off. My battalion’s been ordered to be ready to move off at a moment’s notice. I’m not sure where we’d go if the Japs landed. Into the mountains I guess. My haversack is stocked with my mess tin, socks, towels, mosquito net, eating utensils, iron rations and water bottle. On top of that I have to carry web equipment, a respirator, waterproof cape, my tin hat, ammo and, last but not least, my rifle.
We become more combat-ready every day. All we lack, which the Jap troops have in abundance, is combat experience. We have staged mock battles using the nearby jungles and swamps. We’ve also had our first casualty, not a death thank goodness, but bad enough. One of our chaps was caught in the shock wave of a Jap bomb and is pretty badly shaken up.
We also have our first Jap prisoner. His Zero was shot down and he ditched into the nearby harbour. Some of the lads fished him out using a canoe. It was a bit of a surprise that he spoke English. We’d been led to believe the Japs are not very smart and that they mindlessly obey orders and go to their deaths. Maybe that’s not wholly true.
Mail arrives here infrequently. Mail delivery is not a high priority for the powers-that-be who control transport. We men love receiving letters though, so please write as often as you can.
Your damp but undaunted son and brother, Des PS We were just informed the Japs have landed on and occupied the north coast of this mozzie-infested island. I guess we’ll soon come face-to-face with our dreaded foes. Wish us good luck because I think we’ll need it.
I become more ready to defend myself every day. Uncle Jim practises arm-holds with me at home and Slim practises with me at lunchtime at school. When we’re aware that Beefy’s watching, Slim pretends to fight me off then allows me to grab and hold him. When I have him face down, he groans in pain and begs to be released. I don’t know whether we’ve convinced Beefy that I’m a good fighter. I hope so.
A letter arrived from Harold this week. It took two months to get here so his news is really old. It confirmed the rumours that his lot, the 7th Division, are returning from Europe but didn’t tell us any more than what the rumours have suggested—that Singapore is their likely destination. I hope not because it’s well and truly in Jap hands now. Mum wishes the government would tell us what’s going on. We hear rumours every day. It’s hard to confirm them because the newspapers and radio stations are heavily censored.
‘The lack of solid information is very worrying,’ Mum said. ‘The government think they’re protecting us by hiding the truth but I feel more vulnerable living on rumours.’
January 1942
Thelma, Arch.
There’s been no official fighting to report on since I last wrote, only more of the same sitting and waiting. Our officers granted us generous amounts of Leave which helped break the boredom. While on Leave in Palestine I managed to get myself arrested and fined for fighting. Sorry Thelma, but I guess that comes as no surprise. The provosts didn’t seem to realise that that’s why we’re here—to fight.
We’ve moved back to Egypt and are housed in barracks near the port. Rumour is we’re being shipped to Singapore to put a stop to the Japs’ advance through south-east Asia. I enlisted to fight Germans but if the Japs want some biffo too I’ll gladly give it to them.
Summer in Syria was hot and dusty like at home but in winter snow blanketed everything and temperatures were freezing. Your hand-knitted scarf and balaclava were much appreciated. I won’t need them in Singapore—if that’s where we’re headed.
Harold
Sunday, 29 March
Auntie Dorothy, with Uncle Jim’s support, has convinced Mum to go to a dance at the US Air Force base. A bus will collect them and drop them home afterwards. Uncle Jim reckons there’ll be fifty men to every woman.
‘You girls will be danced off your feet.’ He laughed. ‘You might need to carry a card so you can keep track of who’s booked to have each dance.’
Mum smiled then frowned. ‘But I don’t have anything decent to wear and with all the rationing and wartime shortages, I’m not likely to find a dress in the shops.’
‘I’ll ask around,’ Auntie Dorothy said. ‘There’ll be half a dozen ladies at the hospital, nurses and patients, who’ll be your size and only too happy to lend you a frock.’
Mum still looked unsure. ‘I haven’t danced with a man since Errol died,’ she said quietly. ‘I feel guilty even thinking about it.’
Auntie Dorothy gave her a hug and told her Errol would want her to get on with her life.
‘His potential was cut short by what the war did to him, honey. He’d want you to live a fulfilled life. Come on, Thelma, take a chance. Archie will be perfectly safe at home with Jim and Stanley.’
She thought for a while then agreed to attend.
‘But only if you can get me a dress I feel good in. I’ve got to feel good on the outside because I sure as eggs won’t feel comfortable on the inside.’
Later, she asked me what I thought about her attending the dance. I told her I’d like to see her all dressed up and looking pretty.
‘I always try to look good, Archie, but it’s been hard because we’ve always been short of money.’
‘You said we’re well off now though, sharing the rent and with b-b-both of us earning money.’
‘We are. But I’ll be even better off when your brothers are safely home.’
We know Harold’s safe because we received a letter from him this week. His battalion disembarked in Adelaide a few days ago. There’s no news from Des or news about what’s happening in New Guinea. There’s nothing in the newspapers about the Japs marching south or of Des’s lot marching north. Maybe both armies are checking out each other’s strengths and weaknesses. The Japs don’t appear to have done much reconnaissance before their previous assaults. They usually plunge in at the deep end and go flat out on the attack. I wonder why they’re hanging back this time.
Beefy is keeping his distance too. I’ve not been bullied once this term. Maybe Slim’s performance has convinced him that I’ve toughened up.
March 1942
Thelma and Arch.
I’m home. We disembarked in Adelaide two days ago. Rumour is (there’s always a rumour or two), we’re not getting Leave to travel home any time soon.
We left Egypt two months ago and since then have wandered around the Indian Ocean like a herd of Mrs Brown’s cows. I hadn’t travelled much before I joined the army nearly 18 months ago—but I sure have now. We think we were Singapore-bound but the Japs got there ahead of us (what a bloody shame that surrender was made!), so we back-peddled to Ceylon, then headed for Burma then turned back and made for Java but were rerouted again because of the Japs. Why can’t they stay still so we can get off this hot flaming tub and fight them man-to-man?
Tempers often flared in the cramped and humid conditions on board ship. There were only two things that saved me from going completely stir-crazy: the boxing tournaments and the nurses. The girls were a sight for sore eyes—but entirely off-limits.
I scored better in the boxing. I’m the division champion, Thelma. No surprise, eh? I bet you never thought I’d be good at anything—except using my fists.
Harold
Friday, 27 March 1942
Dear Mum and Archie,
Thanks for your letter. I’m writing as you requested but have very little to report. We spend much of our time unloading ships, helping pack and transport supplies then unloa
ding trucks. Our other main occupation is repairing the airstrip. The Japs fly over most mornings to strafe us and to bomb the strip which means we have to repair it every afternoon. It’s a bit of a pointless game at the moment.
A funny incident (unless you were one of the US pilots) occurred last week. One morning we were sitting back waiting for the Yanks to land the first squadron of Kittyhawks. We stood and cheered them as they flew low towards the airstrip. But they weren’t Kittyhawks—they were Jap Zeros. They opened fire and we dived for cover. Bert was at the latrine when the attack happened. The sight of him trying to run for cover with his strides around his ankles was hilarious. The lads won’t let him live that down for a long time.
The very next morning at exactly the same time, the planes approached again so we got in the first shots. You guessed it—this time they were the Yanks. The pilots were not happy with us.
I hope life is peaceful for you two back in Australia.
Love, Des
Sunday, 5 April
Mum said she had a lovely time at the dance. She and Auntie Dorothy danced all night.
‘The men were so polite and so appreciative of our company and willingness to dance with them. They miss their wives and girlfriends back in the States so much.’
March 1942
Thelma and Arch.
I’m in southern Queensland after time spent in Adelaide and Melbourne. I cancelled my Leave in Melbourne because I had no family there. My mates came back looking like new men. As much as we enjoy each other’s company, a few days away from the army makes everyone feel better. I’ll try to be on my best behaviour when I visit you so I make a good impression on the rellies. If I don’t have mates with me and don’t know anyone in town, I shouldn’t get up to too much mischief, should I Thelma?
Number One son, Harold
The government has introduced water rationing. Tap water’s only available for a couple of hours each morning and night. Mum, Auntie and Shirley aren’t happy with the restrictions.
‘Fair’s fair,’ Auntie Dorothy complained. ‘We all have to do our bit but why should we locals go without when everyone says the military bases are awash with water.’
‘It’s the same with food,’ Shirley added. ‘You’d be appalled by the waste. Our base kitchen serves up food we civilians can only dream of. And you should see the well-stocked canteen.’
‘If that’s the case, servicemen should be banned from buying items from shops in the main street,’ Auntie Dorothy said. ‘We can’t go into their canteens. And besides, many of them are only support personnel. I don’t begrudge a fighting soldier some extra tucker but support staff should eat what we eat.’
‘What makes it worse,’ Shirley added, ‘is that some US officers have brought their Aussie girlfriends up from Sydney and Melbourne. Those women do nothing for the local community and yet they receive the same rations as we do. And on top of that, they get supplies that their boyfriends bring from the base. I’m happy for the military to stay in town but civilian hangers-on should be put on the first train south.’
I’ve heard similar complaints from the locals who frequent the snooker hall. It’s not so much the shortages that upset them, it’s the inflated prices caused by the Yanks earning so much more than either the locals or the AIF personnel.
‘They’ve more money than sense,’ one complained.
‘They’re all glitz and brashness,’ another whinged.
‘They don’t impress me but they obviously appeal to the women. They flash their money around, wear fancy uniforms and hand out chocolate and silk stockings to any woman who gives them a skerrick of attention.’
‘How can we compete with those big earning, big talking Yanks? We can’t attend their dances because their bases are off-limits to civilians. Our women folk are a different story: they’re bussed in and welcomed with open arms.’
‘They better keep their hands off my girl or they’ll think fighting the Japs is the better option.’
Sunday, 12 April
Beefy waited for a day when Slim was absent (last Thursday) then cornered me in the toilets. I tried to bluff him by acting tough but he laughed at me and said he was going to flush my head down the dunny.
‘You and what ar-army?’ I retorted unconvincingly.
‘You’re the one who needs the help of an army, stutter-boy,’ he said with a sneer.
We eyeballed each other until I pretended to be distracted by someone entering the toilet block.
‘Slim,’ I said. ‘I thought you were ab-absent, today.’
He glanced towards the door and in that split second I grabbed his arm. I gripped him as I’d practised but wasn’t strong enough to turn him around. He forced me to release my grip, grabbed me in a headlock, walked me into a cubicle and flushed my head down the toilet bowl.
‘That’s a taste of what’s to come,’ he said and laughed at his own weak joke.
I spat after him in frustration and anger.
I didn’t tell Uncle Jim what happened but I did talk to Cousin Stanley.
‘Have you ever b-been b-bullied?’
‘During my school years, yes,’ he replied.
‘Did you get hurt?’
‘Often.’
‘How did you stop it?’
‘By refusing to show emotions no matter what anyone did to me. No tears, no shouting, no begging for mercy. I gave them nothing and slowly they lost interest in me.’
‘How long did th-that take?’
‘Years.’ He paused. ‘The worst of them got what was coming to him. He is currently in the hands of merciless men – he is a prisoner of the Japanese.’
The number of US servicemen increases by several hundred every day but the number of students at school drops each week. Increasing rents and food prices make it impossible for some local families to stay in town.
I might be leaving school too—at the end of term, if Mum agrees. Uncle Jim said he’d talk to her. Through a friend of his I’ve been offered a fulltime day job in the ice works. The American troops are used to a higher level of comfort than the Australians and staying cool in the tropical heat is top of their list. Ice sales have gone through the roof since they arrived in town. I like the Americans I’ve met but some of the locals think they’re arrogant because they won’t accept the way we live and want to change it.
The American pool players were very angry earlier this week because thousands of US troops, the last ones opposing the Japanese in the Philippines, have surrendered. The soldiers were critical of General MacArthur for abandoning his men and setting up his headquarters in Australia.
‘He couldn’t get much further from the Japs unless he joined the penguins in Antarctica,’ one man commented bitterly.
Sunday, 19 April
We heard some amazing news today: US planes have bombed Tokyo and three other large Japanese cities. Apparently they took off from an aircraft carrier secretly stationed in the Pacific. We didn’t hear what damage was done to the cities.
‘Who cares,’ Uncle Jim said with a wide smile. ‘It’s a morale boost. It’s like bopping a bully-boy on the nose so he knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end. The Japs have copped some of their own medicine, that’s all I care about. I’ll walk taller today knowing we struck back.’
After he said that I wondered what I should do when next I’m confronted by Beefy. Should I hit back like he’s urging me to do? I obviously can’t ‘hit back’ with words because of my stutter. I’m not strong enough yet to get him in an arm-hold so any hitting back would need to be sneaky. But that’s not my nature. I don’t like to be devious. Mum’s brought me up to be honest. I guess I have no hope of getting back at bullies. I just have to learn to put up with teasing.
That’s always been Mum’s advice. ‘Ignore them and they’ll ignore you.’ But that strategy wouldn’t work with the Japanese. If we don’t fight back, they’ll overrun us and treat us badly as they’ve done to people in other countries.
The Australian Govern
ment gave the Americans permission to commandeer thirty houses in a street on the other side of town. They plan to set up a military hospital and accommodate their doctors and nurses.
‘People aren’t happy,’ Uncle Jim told us at tea time. ‘On one hand the government’s urging locals not to leave town because they need our labour and skills but on the other hand they evict people from their houses.’
Locals had another reason to be unhappy this week. A US army truck knocked down and killed a civilian worker.
‘It was an accident waiting to happen,’ Uncle Jim said sadly. ‘The number of trucks on the roads increases by the day moving men, machinery and supplies from the railway station to the various depots and bases around town. That fact alone means accidents are more likely to happen but throw in the night-time black-out and trucks driven by Americans used to driving on the right-hand side of the road and BANG—someone gets skittled.’
Mum became grim-faced when she heard the news. She still worries that I’m not safe walking home from work in the dark even though I’m always accompanied by an adult.
There’s not only tensions between locals and the Americans— a nasty brawl occurred between black and white Americans.
‘They are supposed to be fighting on the same side,’ Cousin Stanley said, ‘but there is a lot of ill-feeling between the races. The provosts broke the fight up. They brandished loaded guns and fixed bayonets to force the blacks onto trucks and out of town.’
‘I’ve heard US authorities have banned all black soldiers from entering Townsville to avoid any further incidents,’ Shirley added.
‘That seems unfair,’ Mum replied. ‘Why are they any more to blame than the white soldiers?’
‘It’s how the US has always done things, Thelma. They’re a divided nation.’
‘But they’re in Australia now. Shouldn’t they do things our way?’
