by Alan Tucker
He and Mum got on really well too. When he left, he picked her up and swung her around like a little kid. She shrieked and laughed. Des has always been my favourite brother but I like Harold now too. I’m lucky to have two brothers. They sort of make up for not having a father. Before he left Harold woke me up to say goodbye. Like Des, he told me to look after Mum.
‘I’m not very strong,’ I said. ‘If the Japs come I d-don’t think I c-c-can do much to p-protect her.’
‘Don’t worry about the Japs. They’ll only arrive here over my dead body.’
‘D-don’t say that.’
He laughed and put his arm around my shoulder. ‘It’s better my body than yours, Arch.’
‘It’s b-best if it’s neither of us,’ I replied.
Rumours about what happened at Kelso Field Camp continue to be hot gossip around town. The military authorities maintain the official line that nothing happened. Everyone else believes something did happen and most agree on the following facts.
Members of the black American 96th Battalion opened fire with machine-guns on their officers’ tent-line because they were sick and tired of being verbally and physically bullied. One rumour claims the officers dived into a slit trench to avoid being shot: another claims one person died and several were seriously wounded.
‘One bloke I spoke to was adamant he saw nineteen coffins on a truck that had just left the camp,’ Uncle Jim told us.
‘Military authorities would find it difficult to hide that many deaths,’ Cousin Stanley replied.
Monday, 1 June
I’m adding a diary entry because Sydney’s been attacked. Three Japanese mini-submarines entered the harbour and sank a naval training vessel. Twenty-one men are dead. Two of the subs were destroyed but one escaped. I hope the navy tracks it down and blows it up.
Slim visited this afternoon. We hadn’t seen each other since I left school. He said school’s all right and that Beefy’s been almost human.
‘Without you there to pick on he’s had little to say.’
He was keen to hear all about my job. I told him the work was good but I found it hard to wake up in time as the week wore on.
‘Loading, unloading and lugging a couple of hundred blocks of ice every day is tiring.’
‘But it’s made you stronger,’ he replied. ‘You’ve got some little muscles now.’
I lifted my arms and flexed my arm muscles like a weight lifter. He laughed.
Sunday, 7 June
I don’t think the mini-sub has been found but the US Air Force found a powerful Japanese naval fleet in the Midway Sea and has sunk four enemy aircraft carriers. The US lost only one carrier. The US pilots must have enjoyed sending the carriers to a watery grave because they were the same ones used in the attack on Pearl Harbour.
‘Surely the Japanese are running low on aircraft carriers,’ Cousin Stanley said. ‘And without them they will quickly lose control of the seas to the US. Midway is a significant victory,’ he announced pointing to the location on our map.
Uncle Jim agreed. ‘Coming on top of the Coral Sea losses, the Japanese must be starting to think war’s not as much fun as it used to be.’
Locally, the Americans have started building a military hospital.
‘They must be expecting battle casualties,’ Cousin Stanley said, ‘which suggests they are planning troop action, probably in New Guinea. If that is the case they are likely to fight alongside Des’s battalion.’
We heard from Des during the week.
Monday, 1 June 1942
Dear Mum and Archie,
We’re feeling considerably safer these days since the Yanks turned back a Jap invasion fleet bound for Moresby. I’m sure you would have read about it in the local newspaper. We’re better trained now than we were when we arrived but we still have no battle experience so, as much as I look forward to taking on the Japs, I’m also nervous about doing so. I suspect their foot soldiers will be harder to stop than their sailors and pilots.
The Japs continue to target the airstrip on their daily bombing raids. Occasionally they get lucky and pot an aircraft or two. The Yankee aircrews never seem to be worried by the loss of a plane. They have the attitude that there’s plenty more where it came from. Australian forces are never so well resourced.
Our new commander, Brigadier Potts, is experienced working with AIF men not militia. He was apparently shocked by our lack of combat preparedness. He reported that we’re under-manned, under-resourced and under-prepared. He’s demanded changes: tighter discipline for a start. That’s caused a few grumbles in the ranks. He told our officers, who told us, that he plans to transform us into (in his words) ‘a coherent, efficient fighting force’. That would be handy before the Japs arrive. Previous commanders have treated us as more of a labour force than a fighting force so I guess Potts’ greater expectations are for the best.
The threat of the seaward invasion (in the days leading up to the Battle of the Coral Sea) allowed him to put a basic plan into operation. During the Stand To drill half of us were stationed at coastal defences, the others inland as a second line of defence in case the first line had to fall back.
We didn’t perform well. There was confusion on the roads concerning which troops should be transported where—and radio communication broke down. It’s a good thing the Japs were turned back by the Yanks because we certainly weren’t ready for them.
The Japs are obviously not happy that the US spoiled their surprise party and are showing their displeasure. The frequency of air raids has increased. Luckily, we remain casualty-free.
Best wishes to all in Townsville,
Your Digger, Des
PS: We’ve heard on the grapevine that Harold’s division is back on Australian soil. With luck they’ll be shipped up here to reinforce our lot. I’m sure Brigadier Potts would welcome them with open arms. Have you seen Harold? I’m keen to catch up with him. When next he and I meet we’ll be able to swap stories about army life. I’d love to talk to him before we get tangled up with the Japs so I could pick his brains about what to expect in battle. Harold will get on like a house on fire with my mate, Bert. They’re two peas in a pod—which probably makes you shudder, Mum. Is the world ready for two ‘Harolds’?
Monday, 8 June
I’m making another unscheduled entry because Japanese submarines have shelled Sydney and Newcastle. I hope Harold’s lot are sent to New Guinea soon to help drive the Japs further from our shores.
Sunday, 14 June
Late Friday afternoon Mr Jensen and I delivered ice to Beefy’s house. I didn’t know it was his house, of course, until I was carrying a block of ice through to the laundry. I was following Mr Jensen down the passageway when Beefy suddenly stepped out of a doorway and deliberately bumped into me. The ice fell from my grip and crunched onto the lino.
‘You should be more careful, stutter-boy,’ he said sarcastically.
Mr Jensen placed his block in the icebox and told me to return the soiled block to the wagon.
‘I’ll clean up here,’ he said. ‘Be careful when you return. The floor will be slippery.’
As we drove back to the depot I apologised for dropping the ice. Mr Jensen told me it was nothing then asked if I knew the lad at the house.
‘He went to my school.’
‘Were you friends?’
‘D-Definitely not,’ I replied.
‘I thought as much,’ he said then urged Blackie along.
June 1944
Thelma, Arch, Jim, Dorothy, Stanley and Shirley.
That long greeting has just about used up all of my letter writing energy! They’ve worked me (and everyone else) hard since I returned from Leave. There’s a patch of jungle inland from here and they regularly truck us out there to learn the art of jungle warfare—conveniently without the Japs sniping at us. The Nambour locals treat us like long lost sons. They organise regular entertainments and invite busloads of young ladies along to dance with us. I can’t complain about that. Which reminds
me—I was pleased to hear, Thelma, that you’ve been doing soft-shoe shuffles with a bunch of Yankee air force officers. You’re never too old to have a good time. Not that I’m suggesting you’re old. I’ll stop writing before I really put my foot in it.
Harold
Mum goes to the air force dances regularly. For the first time this week she went without Auntie Dorothy.
‘Your first solo flight,’ Uncle Jim joked. ‘Don’t crash-land returning to base.’
‘I’ll wait up for you, Thelma,’ Auntie Dorothy promised.
‘There’s no need. The bus will deliver me to the door.’
‘I know but I’ll wait just the same. I’m your big sister, remember, and what I say goes.’
Mum laughed. The reason Auntie Dorothy made the offer was because Shirley had an unpleasant experience this week. She worked late and missed the bus so she walked home in the dark.
‘I’ve always felt one hundred per cent safe on the streets of Townsville but about half-way home I passed a group of soldiers. They’d been drinking and made several foul-mouthed comments. I smiled but gave them no encouragement and kept walking.
‘Some minutes later, I thought I heard footsteps behind me, so I paused to look and listen. There didn’t appear to be anyone following me so I continued home. I guess my imagination got the better of me.’
‘I’ll be glad when this war’s over,’ Auntie Dorothy replied, ‘and we can turn the street lights back on.’
‘Have any of your friends had problems after dark?’ Uncle Jim asked.
‘They’ve all felt uneasy at times but, like me, think they could be imagining the danger.’
‘That’s easy to do,’ Uncle Jim said. ‘We’re living with a black-out and the threat of a Japanese invasion and on top of that, we have thousands of unfamiliar men on the streets.’
‘I liked it when the soldiers first arrived but there are so many men now that I find it intimidating.’
‘Next time you work late, love,’ Auntie Dorothy told her firmly, ‘telephone home and either Jim will pick you up in the truck or Stanley will come and walk you home.’
I hoped Mum was safe at the dances. After all, I’m supposed to be looking after her. When I asked her, she smiled and said she was well looked after.
Cousin Stanley came home from militia training last night with the news that the American 96th Battalion, the one allegedly involved in the shooting of its officers, has been shipped north to Port Moresby.
‘And to add to the mystery of the alleged mutiny, a US congressman flew into Townsville a week ago to compile a report on what happened at Kelso Field camp. If nothing happened, why would he fly all the way from the US and risk being shot down by the Japanese?’
‘There are so many rumours, it’s hard to know the truth, any more,’ Auntie Dorothy said. ‘I’ll be glad when this war’s over and we can get back to a free press that reports what’s really happened and not just information the government wants us to know.’
Mr Jensen and I hear all sorts of rumours as we do our daily rounds. He tells me to treat most of them with a grain of salt. He’s tough. He could do the job by himself even though he only has one leg. He’d take longer but he’d get it done. He doesn’t normally ask me personal questions so I was surprised when he enquired about Beefy.
‘He’s just a b-boy from school.’
‘Has he accidentally bumped into you before?’
‘Quite a few t-times,’ I replied. ‘Why?’
‘No reason. Just curious.’
He tugged gently on the reins and Blackie stopped so we could make a delivery.
Sunday, 21 June
Tension came to a head in the pool hall yesterday afternoon. Two men (a local and a US soldier), started abusing one another. The boss pushed them outside where fists were thrown. The local fellow was much older than the fit young American but he was too tough for him. The fight was over before the provosts arrived. The American, who had a split lip and bloodied nose, was helped into the toilets. No-one dobbed on either fighter. In fact, after the stoush, men from both sides acted in a much more friendly way to one another and actually played snooker and pool together.
Sunday, 28 June
Mr Jensen and I delivered ice to Beefy’s house late Thursday.
‘This is your friend’s house, isn’t it?’ I nodded. ‘Let’s see if you’re clumsy today.’
I wasn’t sure what he meant so I went about my work. Beefy opened the door for us and Mr Jensen and I carried the blocks down the passageway. He sent me back to the wagon to fetch a third block. On my return trip I heard a yelp and small cry from the back of the house. As I neared the laundry I glimpsed Mr Jensen gripping Beefy’s head with the ice tongs. As I entered the room he released the grip and Beefy dashed past me. I placed the block in the ice box and shut the door.
‘A pleasing day’s work,’ he said then gestured for me to go first as we returned to the wagon. He whistled happily as we approached Darkie.
‘Good boy,’ he said and scratched behind his ears. ‘Keep your head high, old mate. Things are looking up.’
Sunday, 5 July
Mum looked worried when she read Des’s latest letter because his division are in the Japs’ sights.
Sunday, 28 June 1942
Dear Mum and Archie,
Things are hotting up. We’ve suffered our first casualties. A platoon from my company was unloading a ship at the wharf when a warning sounded that Jap bombers were approaching. The Macolhui put to sea and took evasive action but suffered direct hits: six of our blokes were killed. One of them was a close friend of Bert’s. He’s pretty cut up about it and says he’ll get his revenge when he meets the Japs face-to-face.
We don’t have great confidence in our officers. One chap, Captain Templeton, served in the First World War. He’d be about Dad’s age, if Dad had lived. I don’t know if he’ll be able to go the pace if the action hots up, which I’m sure it will. We were relieved, therefore, when some of our officers were replaced with experienced younger men. The lads are excited to serve under them because they’re back from fighting in the Middle East. I asked a couple of them if they knew Harold, but, no luck.
Since the officers arrived we’ve completed several rigorous route marches, been involved in a large number of drills and conducted night patrols through the jungle. It’s hard enough to find your way through the jungle by daylight without throwing pitch blackness into the equation.
There’s a strong rumour that we’ll soon see the Japs up close. If we’re ordered into the mountains I may not be able to write so easily in future. And even if I do, who knows how mail will be collected and sent off.
Whatever happens, Mum, I’ll be thinking of you and Archie.
Love, Des
Mum often gets worried after reading Des’s letters but this one upset her more than others.
‘I hate to think of those young men dying, Archie, especially in such a horrible way and so far from home,’ she said. ‘Imagine how it must affect Des and his friends. He didn’t say so but he’d know every one of them to some degree. Errol’s best friends after the war were the men he served with. He’d do anything for any one of the thousand or more men who served in the 5th Battalion—and they’d do anything for him. And many did. Their daily visits and care made Errol’s final months more meaningful.’
I was worried about Des too but couldn’t let on to Mum. If he’s no longer safe in Port Morseby, he’ll be even less safe fighting in the mountain jungles. I changed the subject.
‘Harold said D-d-dad used to n-nurse me a lot when I was a b-baby.’
‘He was a very caring man,’ she said sadly. ‘But he was a daredevil when we first met,’ she added cheering up a little, ‘and did whatever he wanted when he wanted. That’s what attracted me to him when I was your age. I was younger and he seemed so grown-up and independent.’
‘Was he y-your b-boyfriend when you were at school?’
‘No. Times were very different before the war,
Archie. Relationships were more formal and society more polite which is why Errol stood out.’
‘D-Did you g-get married before he joined the army?’
‘I was too young and he wasn’t ready to settle down. In fact, he probably hardly noticed I was alive. I was aware of him though. He was so handsome.’ She looked sad again.
‘I b-bet you were pretty, Mum.’
‘If I was, I am no longer, Archie. I’ve aged as Errol had when he returned home from France. He was sent home early on a hospital ship. I met him one day down at the shops and hardly recognised him. He was stooped and often struggled for breathe. The gas he inhaled destroyed his lung capacity. But in the few minutes we chatted I knew I still loved him.’
‘D-Did he love you straight away too?’
‘No, dear. The war had hardened him. I think he was scared to show emotion.’
‘B-But you g-got married soon after he returned, d-didn’t you?’
‘Yes. I won his trust and we had a wonderful marriage. A short one, sadly, but a happy one.’
Mum’s become really keen on dancing. She makes Shirley or Auntie Dorothy dance with her most nights so she can practise old and learn new dance steps. She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her. I wish Des was here to see her enjoying herself.
Ilola, Tuesday, 7 July 1942
This was the most miserable day of my life—and I can see there’s worse to come. We spent the best (or worst) part of twelve hours on the Track. My heels are in danger of blistering. I must wear extra socks tomorrow. Some blokes’ knees collapsed on the downhill sections. They’ve been ordered back. My calves hurt pushing uphill, my knees ache coming down. How lucky are we that we’re not carrying full packs. Native porters went ahead of us to set up our supply depots. Some didn’t look too happy with the loads they were ordered to carry. Now I know why. They knew what they (and we) were in for. Walking here’s a slog at best.
